AN- This fic is the product of boredom, desire to reach 100 stories before 2011, and my always Percy Jackson obsession. Hope you enjoy! I threw in a little bit of all couples I ship. And Nico Percy friendship because they're awesome like that.
1. to press or squeeze with a force that destroys or deforms.
Even though Luke never touches her heart, he still crushes it.
It's not like he does it on purpose, and sometimes Thalia is pretty sure he doesn't even know. It's just…when he looks at her with those striking blue eyes, her heart clenches and it's suddenly hard to breathe.
And when he kisses her, it's like a vice grip and she's suddenly worried she won't be able to breathe at all but, honestly, it's not like the rush she feels when a monster has laid her out flat; it's a good rush. One she wants more often.
And slowly but surely her heart is looking less 'Thalia' and more 'Luke-and-Thalia' as he continues to press and mold it into his own with every fleeting touch and look.
Then, boom, a needle into the bark surrounding her and that's it. He's finally squeezed a little too hard and her heart is no longer 'Thalia' or 'Luke-and-Thalia' or, hell, even 'Luke'
It's broken. Beyond all repair.
Absolutely crushed.
2. to squeeze or pound into small fragments or particles, as ore, stone, etc.
"Grover, what are you doing?" Juniper wonders, a hand on her hips and an inquisitive look in her eyes.
Grover bleats and tries to hide his project behind his body. "N-nothing."
He can never hide anything from her and she knows this as she sways closer, her arms roping around his neck and her lips pressing against his. He loses himself in her, in the love and desire and the forever and before he knows it, she's reaching behind him and grabbing ahold of his hidden project.
"A stone?" she wonders out loud, then peers around him and notices over stones, and a hammer.
She turns back to Grover, a red-faced mess and back to the stones, her brow furrowed.
"What-"
"I'm trying to make you an engagement ring. But every time I try and mold the stone, it's not working. So I figured I'd try to use a bunch of pieces and-"
Juniper jumps into his arms and rains kisses over his face.
3. to force out by pressing or squeezing; extract
So Clarisse has him pined to the ground and any other boy would find his embarrassing as all get but Chris is just used to it.
"You gonna get off me anytime soon, La Rue?" he wonders teasingly and grunts as she presses his arm further into his back.
"Maybe," she drawls, "or maybe not."
"Oof. Really, Clarisse, this kind of hurts."
"Did you ask Stephanie to the fireworks?"
Chris barely has time to register her question before a spasm of pain shoots up and down his arm.
"What?"
"Stephanie, the daughter of Apollo. Did you ask her to the fireworks?"
She presses his arm even further into his back and he groans. "No!"
"So you don't have a date?"
"Pretty soon, I won't have an arm," Chris snarks, then hisses with pain again, "Shit, no."
"Wanna go with me?"
Honestly, this is how she asks? But Chris doesn't care because he's known the answer since the moment she aimed her sword in his face on his first night here.
"Sure."
The feeling in his arm comes back just in time for him to wrap it around her as they enjoy the colorful shower of sparks all around them.
4. to rumple; wrinkle; crease
It's time like this, Rachel reflects, that she's honestly surprised they haven't been caught.
Her hair, once perfectly coiffed, was an array of stray strands and tangles. Her neck has red blotches just about everywhere. And her dress was a rumpled and wrinkled disaster.
"I look like a tramp."
"A classy tramp," Nico interjects as he buttons up his dress shirt.
"Everyone will be able to tell!" she moans.
"Wear a scarf," he suggests with a shrug as he comes up behind her.
"You're such a-" but the words die on her lips as his arms encircle her waist and he kind of holds her.
He kisses her bare shoulder and fingers the material of her dress.
"You could always iron it."
She snorts. "Yeah. And set the mansion on fire."
"I could do it, "he offers, his voice turning low and suggestive, "But you'd have to take it off."
"You'd love that," she murmurs and closes her eyes as his lips land back on her neck.
"You have no idea." His breath is hot against her ear.
"I hate you," she gasps as she turns around in his arms and kisses him fiercely.
She arrives to the party an hour later, her hair fixed and neck spotless.
But dress still a wrinkled mess.
5. to smooth or flatten by pressure
"She's gonna be here any second and my hair is a mess!"
"Percy, did you know you sound like a girl?"
Percy glares at the Son of Hades, stretched out in a nearby chair, who pulls on his best innocent face.
"I've been waiting forever for this date with Annabeth. Chances are, she's going to arrive looking absolutely flawless and I can't even get my hair to lay flat."
"Ever hear of a comb?"
"Ever hear of a shut-the-fuck-up?"
"Language," Sally says walking into the living room, "and be nice to your friend."
Percy glowers as Nico basks in the glow of the favoritism. Sally appraises his hair.
"Sweetie, maybe a wet comb will help?"
"Tried it. The water dried up, like, instantly. The one downside of being a Son of Poseidon."
"How about a hat?" Nico offers up. "Maybe even a certain Yankees cap…"
"Someone sounds a little too smug, considering he's the only one in the city without a date tonight."
Nico snorted. "At least I'm not acting like a fucking sissy over my hair."
"If you're not going to help, stop making comments!"
Nico sighs, then struts over to his pal. "Okay. Just remember you asked for it."
"What-"
Nico suddenly grabs Percy in a headlock, pressing down on his head with the palm of his hand.
"Nico! Let go of me!"
"Give it a minute," Nico says casually as Percy fails in his grasp.
"I'm invincible, how are you holding me!"
"Huh. I don't know. Forty seconds."
"I hate you."
"Thirty. No you don't. You love me."
"I beg to differ."
"Twenty. You don't know what you'd do without me."
"Be happy?"
"Be a mess right now. Ten."
Percy fumes quietly for those ten seconds until Nico lets go and he's able to straighten himself out with as much dignity as possible. He glances at himself in the mirror and does a double-take; his hair is completely flat.
"What do you say?" Nico asks.
Percy grumbles under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Thank you."
Nico smirks smugly. "No sweat."
6. to hug or embrace forcibly or strongly
It's the end of the war and everyone is celebrating because they're alive. Because they survived. Because they beat the baddies and have the marks and the bruises and the scrapes to show for it.
Travis is relieved to see his brother strutting around and making the others laugh but his eyes are trained for the flash of dirty blonde hair or the scent of roses or even those dirty jeans with the patched holes that she can't bear to part with.
Katie is relieved to see her siblings are okay and breathing but her eyes are too busy scanning for a mop of curly brown hair to really look and her ears are too busy straining to catch his rambunctious laugh to really hear anything that they're saying.
And then it's like all those classy (cheesy) romance novels where their eyes meet and time stops. And suddenly he's pushing people away and she's weaving in and out of groups and they meet right in the middle.
He doesn't kiss her. He's wanted to for far too long but he doesn't want it to be tarnished by the memory of all those they've lost. So he just takes her in his arms and hugs her.
His arms are strong around her and she buries her head into his chest as he crushes her against him. Relieved that he's here and she's here and they're alive.
They both just savor the moment and each other.
7. to destroy, subdue, or suppress utterly
Apollo tells himself over and over he cannot feel this way for the Oracle. He's the one who made that God-awful rule where she has to remain a virgin and just because this is the first Oracle to not worship him, that doesn't mean he can go breaking the rules just to chase after her.
Honestly, he thinks as he watches her paint, she probably has this all planned. She knows this whole ignoring thing gets to him and she wants him lusting after her like a high school horn dog. And he wants her to realize that her plan is failing because he's not lusting after her.
At least, that's what he tells himself while entertaining his needs with busty brunettes and sultry blondes.
But then the nameless women look at him, wanting more and all he can see is red hair and green eyes in the sea of browns and blues and he walks away and never looks back.
"Stop being a creeper," Rachel calls and he grins as he moves forward.
"Nice painting."
She shrugs, accepting the compliment because she's good at art and she knows it. And this should annoy him but, honestly, he finds her self-confidence refreshingly different than all the other mortal teenagers he chases after and-
Damn it. She's done it again.
"What do you want, Apollo?"
"Just stopped in to see how things were going. My annual check-up."
"No shots required, I hope," she quips, not even looking at him.
He steps even closer. "None at all."
She jumps because she hadn't realized how close he was and she turns around, fully intending to tell him to back off, but he's just there and he's oh-so-close.
And he arms, they kind of wrap around her on their own accord and her heart is sort of pounding and he's right there and-
And he shakes himself and pulls away because she's the Oracle and he can't.
As much as he wants to.
"Keep up the good work."
She forces a smile. "Will do."
8. to overwhelm with confusion, chagrin, or humiliation, as by argumentation or a slighting action or remark; squelch.
"You're such a-"
"Go ahead, finish that sentence."
Thalia and Nico glare at each other, his sword lazily in his hand and her arms folded across her chest.
"Can you two ever get along?" Annabeth asks warily from her spot at the head of the table.
"I'm totally fine," Nico says, leaning his chair back and propping his feet onto some map of New York, "Unlike some people."
"Screw you," Thalia mutters under her breath.
"Like I would."
Thalia's glare goes from deadly to pure and unadulterated death and she hates the stupid little smirk on Nico's face.
"Trust me. The feeling is mutual. You're certainly no prince charming."
"Like Luke?"
Nico realizes, in an instant, that he's gone too far. Thalia pales and instead of fighting back, kicks out her chair and stomps through the door. He swears under his breath and chases after her.
"Thalia, slow the fuck down!" he calls after her and of course she merely speeds up.
"I'm sorry, okay? Thalia!"
He stops, Shadow-travels, and appears suddenly in front of her, his hands wrapping around her arms and effectively stopping her.
"I went too far. I'm sorry."
She doesn't look at him and he takes this as a bad sign and he honestly feels lower than dirt because he doesn't want to hurt her. He's never wanted to hurt her. Especially not after last year, when she left the Hunters and suddenly went from sparring partner to obtainable girl.
"You know that it stings," she whispers and he doesn't know what hurts worse: the truth behind the words or the fact that he does. Know, that is.
"So why did you have to humiliate me?"
"It's not like I did it on fucking purpose, Thal. You are the last person I want to…"
He trails off when she looks at him, her eyes hard and he lets go of her arms.
"Why?"
"Because," and he doesn't pretend to not know what she means because it's Thalia and she deserves better, "It's you."
"And that's supposed to mean something?"
"To me it does."
They both blush at this because neither one of them is big on feelings and Nico's confession is pretty huge.
"We should go back in," Thalia replies after a moment. "Get more battle strategy."
"Right."
They walk back in silence and Nico wonders if she's forgiven him.
It's a good sign when her hand slips into his.
AN- Hope you liked!