#and that's why i think that his first instinct was to shoot the lightning at the end... it was blank faced and emotionless and intentional

[dykeofmisfortune]

thinking thoughts about claus mother 3

[ladypiscesmoon]

Part 2 Q&A:

Timothée Chalamet & Armie Hammer

Since I forgot to put the answer to the following question in part 1, here we go:

Q: Armie told the story about their first rehearsal from cmbyn when Tim and him kissed and then Luca told them to stop and do it again with more passion. Luca left. What were their feelings in the first and in the second kiss.

A: Armie

First kiss: love, I just wish things were different (hermit tarot) love oracle cards, island time wellness: the golden mirror, the chaser

Second kiss: you matter, I don’t want to lose you, cassette, I like you

From the start he liked kissing Timmy. There was lust, but nothing serious from his side, but attraction. But he very much liked to be liked by Tim, as in a friendship way if they couldn’t have anything else. The podcast popped up in my mind, when he said that he sought validation of himself in everything he did. It started like: I like you, do you like me too? His marriage wasn’t in the best place already at that point.

Tim:

First kiss: I can’t even look at you right now, wait

Hand of cards, healing heart

He’s so intuitive, as if he knew from the start this was a wounded man and he had to be careful. There was some hesitation because he felt a bit embarrassed by how much he liked kissing Armie

Second kiss: the cards were flying everywhere, as so often when I read for Timmy. He can be quite “chatty”.

I’m coming, trust me, I could be your hero, baby. If I asked you to stay, would you leave? I still don’t know all the answers, let me hold you

Talking, love call, thinking of you and letting you know, not today.

Timmy instantly knew this was someone he was attracted to, had been dreaming about, manifesting someone like Armie. He liked kissing Armie but knew for the sake of the movie and him being married, he had to keep boundaries. He didn’t overstep, but the second kiss was like he was struck by lightning. He immediately decided to be his friend, if it could never be more, at least they would have that, he thought.

Q: How is Armie and Luca’s relationship now?

A: wheel of fortune, temperance. they will try to mend their relationship

Q: Armie said in an interview while promoting cmbyn that Luca and he have a very beautiful complicated relationship. Why he said that?

A:9 of wands reversed, ace of swords

Armie thought Luca had a pretty good read on him. He instinctively understood that Armie kept up a facade by being smug and confident. In reality Armie was already feeling lost and unhappy. The relationship with Luca and Timmy and making the movie “woke” Armie up. His life nerves the same after the shooting.

Q: what those think Luca of Armie and Timmy dating/being together?

A: Temperance reversed, 7 of cups reversed, 2 of swords, the fool

last summer, when they were doing well, he was happy for them. He knows they have a special bond. Lately he thinks they should talk to each other. He doesn’t understand their choices, it creates chaos between them. They have to make difficult decisions, but he hopes they can start over.He loves them both and want them to be happy.

Q: what did Timmy think of Armie’s and Luca’s relationship?

A: Prism oracle Protection, rest, isolation, fear

Timmy felt protected by the both of them. In the beginning he was afraid that he would feel isolated, but they proved him wrong.

Q: there was a bar in Crema that was about to close of some money issues and a lot of people donated. One of them was Douglas Hal, Timmy’s and Armie’s middle names. Did either of them donate?

A: 9 of swords, 8 of cups reversed

I don’t think either of them donated.

Q: That girl on TikTok that posted the pic of her and Timothée did she want more or tell him that?

A: King of cups reversed, temperance, 5 of pentacles

Looks like she thought she got the short end of the stick, it doesn’t feel like it was serious for Tim, but maybe she thought it could have been more. She felt left in the cold.

Q: why did she post it?

A: prism oracle rest, hunger, energy, abundance

She posted it because she wanted it to mean something. If not to Timmy at least she wanted to have support on line.

Q: How did Armie feel about it?

A: frustration, strength, faith

He wished it could have been him with Timmy. He tried not to let it disturb his peace of mind, he tries to have faith in the future.

Q: How dit Tim feel about it?

A: peace, magic, creativity

Timmy tried not to think about it, he distracted himself with filming like he always does when he is in trouble of there’s something on his mind. He tries to forgive himself for past mistakes, but he has a hard time with that.

Q: Do Timmy and Armie have an open relationship like can they hook up with other people while still being together?

A: I don’t know we can speak of a relationship at the moment, because they have so many things to sort out.

But no, they would like to be exclusive if they can work it out. Especially Armie. “No more bullshit” I heard. photo 1

Q: will Armie and Timmy have children in future?

Tower, 4 of wands

They might. Not in the near future I think. Too many issues to resolve and they have to talk first about a lot of things.

Q: what are Timmy’s thoughts about Armie’s tattoos?

A: I think he likes them, actually. He likes to trace them and he thinks Armie is hot with or without him. Sorry I couldn’t find the picture of the cards anymore. I remember taking one, though. Probably forgot to save it.

Q: will Timmy and Armie gonna live in Italy in future?

A: the world, 6 of swords, the star

They both love Italy. I think there’s a chance they may live there,

In future, or somewhere else in Europe like France or Great Britain

Q: does Armie occasionally mention Timmy to his kids?

A: the hermit, 4 of wands, ace of wands reversed.

No, I don’t think he does at the moment.

Q: Did Armie brought the kids to see Wonka?

A: 5 of wands reversed, 9 pf cups, the hermit

No, he didn’t, but wished circumstances would have been different and he could.

Q: when do we get good news from them?

A: I pulled a time card, but take it with a grain of salt as ever. Timing in tarot is, I’ve said this many times before, HARD

Photo 2

Q: do you see Timmy posting about Armie, his pictures and everything after they will start dating publicly?

The tower reversed, 3 of wands reversed, pace of wands reversed, 6 of wands.

I would be surprised. Timmy never posts anything personal anymore. I wouldn’t if I had so may followers and everybody tries to explain and analyses your every move or picture. He’s a very private man. Will he say something I about Armie in future? He would if it is work related but I doubt it would be really personal.

Q: the photo of Timmy in a white tank top with Luca in Italy, was Armie there with them.

A: ace of wands, 3 of swords reversed, queen of wands, the hierophant, 10 of cups.

I think Armie took that picture

Q: also that photo of Timmy in a cave swimming, was Armie with him?

Knight of wands, the magician, page of cups.

Yes, I’m convinced they had a vacation together in Italy last summer.

Q: how is the relationship between Timmy and Elle Fanning?

A: prism oracle: success, surrender, balance

Good, they like working together. They were friendly and concentrated on what they had to do.

Q: Timmy’s upcoming future projects will they as successful or his star power will be weakened?

A: some will be successful, others less, and he will feel disappointed about those that do average or worse.

Q: Timmy’s deal with Warner Brother do you see it be successful? Will he be able to get out of it?

5 of wands reversed, 10 of pentacles, death

I see him being successful but he has to stand up for himself. He probably doesn’t always want this deal. Again he has to say what he wants and not back off. He will feel a lot better if he does.

Q: Will Timmy have changes in his team or publicist?

A: 9 pf wands reversed, king of swords reversed, 8 of swords reversed.

Eventually he will. He’s struggling at the moment. He knows he’s unhappy, but he is so very loyal it backfires all the time.

Q: how is Tim’s relationship with his bodyguard?

Knight of swords, ace of pentacles, 9 of pentacles, prism oracle: comfort

A: is his name Jack? They seem to have a good relationship. But I’m not sure maybe he will be replaced in the end, because I think he lives in London and he probably can't be with Tim all the time.

Q: will Tim's wine business see the light? Will it be successful?

A: The moon, ace of swords reversed, 6 of pentacles reversed, king of wands reversed, page of pentacles

It doesn't feel good, but I can't put my finger on it. Im strongly feeling that the person he's is doing this with, could be an investor or a partner is manipulative and greedy.

Q: did Timothée grew closer to his dade more than his mom now?

A: prism oracle: love, rest, strength

He loves both of them very much, they love him also. His mother has a hard time with the Kylie situation, so their relationship was more strained last year. He is trying to mend that. Once she is out of the picture, he will succeed. But that's why we saw him with his father more.

Q: Did Timothée regret those pictures with Eiza?

A: Prism oracle: Ideation, mystery, cleanse, balance.

He seems to be embarrassed about them, he had to do it for work though. He tries to forgive himself for things he's not proud of. Sometimes his anxiety is really strong, I feel. It's okay to not have all the answers all the time, but again, he has to stand up for himself and stop doing things he's uncomfortable with.

Q: Does Tim sense any jealousy from Leo, or distance himself from Leo?

A: prism oracle: hunger, abundance, peace. The moon, 2 of wands reversed.

I dient feel any jealousy, but I don't think Leo is giving Timmy good advice. he listened to Leo a few times, now he's an a-liter himself, I think he should distance himself from Leo. But as said before, Time is loyal to a fault and he has a difficult time saying no to people.

Q: Did Timmy ever feel jealous of the relationship of Armie and Effie?

A: yes he was. He wished it was him and tried to put up a brave face by saying he didn't care. Photo 3

Q: Does Armie ever think of Effie or want to contact her again?

A:6 of cups, king of swords reversed, 7 of swords reversed

He rather not dwells on the past, but of course she is one of the reasons he lost his career. In a way it reminds him to do better. He would have liked to talk about why she blamed him and accused him, because he thought they talked about boundaries and things enough. He knows she is manipulative and that he has to stay away.

Q: What are Timmy's thoughts about Armie's tattoos?

A: I do think he likes them, actually. He like to trace them and he thinks Armie is hot with or without them. Photo 4

Who is more romantic, more flirty and more needy between Tim and Armie?

A: Photo 5 and 6

Both are romantic in a different way: Armie likes to give gifts, Timmy is giving his time and attention to Armie. Like calling, texting, sending pictures or a meme.

Bear in mind, not now!!!! I think they are still not a 100 percent. Tim is a big, big flirt. Armie is now more cautious and less open. He needs someone he can trust to open him up again. Tim knew from the beginning Armie was his person, but complications made him insecure and vulnerable. He also has a temper!! They both have and both say hurtful things to each other if they are not on the same page.

Q: There's a blind item that Tim's hooking up with a make-up artist can you check please?

A: pace of wands reversed, 8 of wands reversed, ace of pentacles, wheel of fortune.

It seems not. I wouldn't believe blind items anyway, it's usually bullshit.

One of the make-up artists may have thought they had a chance, but Timmy was uninterested.

Q: Can you see how Lisa Perejma feels about Armie and if they could get back in future

A: Lisa still seems to like Armie and wants to be with him. Photo 7 and the moon, the devil reversed, queen of wands reversed 10 of wands

As for there future, I think Armie doesn't feel it. Their relationship has run its course for him.

Q: were Lily and Timmy ever a real couple?

A: queen of pentacles reversed, judgment reversed, 4 of wands reversed

I think they were friendly, possible friends. Not a real couple no. And one of both were not satisfied with the arrangement. I think that Lily felt Timmy a tat uninterested.

Q: Is Armie broke (struggling financially)?

A: strenght, 3 of pentacles reversed, 6 of wands reversed, the hierophant reversed

He obviously lost a lot of income in the last years. I think he is not completely without means. He may have inherited something from his father

Q: how did Luca feel when he heard about Armie's attempt of suiside?

A: prism oracle rejection, flow, trust, conciousness.

He felt sorry and sad. He didn't think Armie deserved the total rejection, he only had to become aware of the things that held him back in life. He trusted and hoped that Armie would find a way to be happier in life.

Q: Will Armie ever go back to acting?

A: 10 of cups reversed, 2 of swords, 8 of wands reversed

At the moment it doesn't look like it. He still feels very alone and im not even sure he wants to go back to the Hollywood carnival. I can check in future of it changes.

Q: Will Armie do a movie this year?

A: Doesn't seem likely. See my previous answer

Q: what doe Timmy and Armie think of Charmies?

A: ace of wands reversed

They are not thinking about Charmies, certainly not with how things are at the moment between them

Q: Did Timmy use Armie in the promo of cmbyn for selling the movie and bromance in any kind of his own favor or was he just being himself and really liked Armie to this length?

A: the hermit, the tower

Its his job to promote and sell his movie. But no, Armie really turned his world upside down. He never had such strong feelings for anyone else.

Also he was really young at the time and not famous, so he was a lot more open.

Q: Please a quick update for how Timmy feels currently. Since he wrapped filming . Is he trying to end the PR with Kylie more aggressively or just staying passive.

A: Well, we all know how that went with Kylie. 3 of cups reversed, 3 of pentacles reversed, 5 of swords reversed, 10 of wands, the star

prism oracle:space, passion, reflection, hunger, protection

he feels awful. He thought he protected himself by being passive and having the excuse of filming, but they don't buy it. He feels really dumb and alone. He's stuck. he knows he has to reflect on it and stand up for himself, but he feels stuck and unprotected, has a lack of passion, would like to flee.

Q: Is this PR ruining Armie and Timmy? I feel there is no coming back now

A: Prism oracle: magic, comfort, peace, success

If Timmy will finally stand up to the Karjenners, Armie and he are going to find their way back to each other. But at the moment Armie is just waiting until Timmy stops with this charade. He tries to stay calm and peaceful and comfortable.

Q: Did Timmy renew some aspect of a deal? Or is it necessary to follow a timeline towards a break-up announcement? I'm a little confused.

A: the hermit, king of cups reversed, 5 of wands, 3 of wands

I don’t know, but when I saw these pictures something didn’t sit right with me. There’s something strange, but I don’t know what.

They probably renewed or negotiated part of the deal, because Timmy didn't commit earlier and hides all the time. He used the filming of acu as an excuse and I think he thought that was it. So, yes, because he didn't stand up for himself, the energy changed and here we are again waiting for all this to end officially. He feels so sad, so stuck, so lonely. But he can and has to do something about it, or he will be stuck longer.

Q: What are Armie's thoughts about this new sighting with Kylie? Will this make things worse for them? Is there still a chance for Tim and Armie to go on a vacation after this?

A: I think I partly answered this in the previous ask. But no, at the moment it doesn't look like they gonna meet up soon. In part 1 I already stated that they wanted to talk and meet up but that there were obstacles and people against it. I think we have our answer now. Armie is not gonna budge as long as Kylie is in the picture.

Q: How does Pauline think about this Kylie stuff?

A: pace of wands reversed, 10 of wands

She thinks Timmy has to do take responsibility for what he did. She thinks that family is bad news. He has to get rid of them.

Q: What does Elizabeth think about the Kylie situation?

A: judgement reversed, 3 of cups reversed

she likes to gossip about it, hopes that Armie and Timmy will never be together again. Judges but not in a nice way.

*alleged/for entertainment purposes

[signalterminated]

puella madoka magica au

Reality is coming down around them.

II can feel the fabric of it warp and bend, tears carved at a molecular level spilling antimatter across the sky. A kaleidoscope of color shimmers high above them like a bursting star. Scattered infrared trickles down as particulate, psychedelic nuclear fallout. The taste is akin to pop rocks candy mixed with battery acid. It fizzles on the tongue. Nauseating like a free fall, that split second suspension before a roller coaster drop.

II hasn’t been on a roller coaster since he was a teenager. He breathes out slowly, trying to orient himself in the non euclidean geometry reshaping the ruins around them, spreading like an infection. 

To say they’ve fucked up is an understatement.

They were fools for thinking they could bring Sleep through to the other side. As if they could contain the endless possibility of a thing not meant to be contained, not meant to walk or float or do anything other than be. Oh, He had wanted, yes, and wanted so badly, but He’d been unable to conceive of what that wanting truly meant. How do you picture a color that doesn’t exist, the inversion of everything you are?

It turns out neither had they. They’d simply listened to the want that throbbed in their bones like an ache, trusting blindly that a god would have figured it all out already, gifting them glory and ascension with His emerging as promised. 

But collapsing the barrier between domains hadn’t brought anything other than the collapsing, and now III and IV are gone. 

The First Vessel writhes at his side, and this concerns him more than anything else. 

II musters what energy he has to lean over, chewing his lip to pieces, hands hovering over his beloved friend but unsure of where to place them. This wasn’t supposed to happen. III and IV’s demise, the agony The First displays as he claws at the ground, it's all a composite of every nightmare he’s ever had — only pinching himself won’t make it stop.

“What’s wrong?” II’s voice is tight with worry bubbling over into panic. How quickly helplessness can chew away at his resolve and leave him scrambling. “Please, tell me how I can help.”

Vessel’s throat strains but the only thing he can manage is a whimper. He’s jerking side to side as if he’s trying to hold on, or…no, like he’s trying to keep something in. Fighting back an invisible force raging within.

II’s blood goes cold. His hand darts out to cup a masked cheek, calling out his name yet again, pleading with him to hold on, to focus on his voice, please, he’s right here — 

Vessel’s body snaps upward like a stop motion marionette. II barely has time to register the crack of snapping bones before Vessel’s jaw drops open to let out a scream unlike anything he’s ever heard. It lances directly through II’s skull, pure anguish amplified into a sonic tidal wave that has him drawing his arms up on instinct. 

Thinking past that noise is impossible. It echoes off of shattered glass and rubble until II’s certain the whole world will be swallowed by it. It’s like his soul is being dissolved while he’s still breathing, a violent disintegration of being. A blur of opalescent darkness arcs up from him and shoots into the sky like a bolt of cosmic lightning.

The First Vessel is dying. Sleep is dying, too. 

What’s reborn from their desiccated husks is neither man nor god. Misshapen, malnourished, desperate to exist yet unable to bend to the laws of the universe it’s been thrust into. It cries and the air around it emits superheated vapor, blowing out then turning in on itself to form localized vacuums. The dreams of countless minds spill out from a shifting sea of mouths all caught muttering and giggling and sighing and sobbing, vomiting blurs of sound and light that II can’t bear to look at. They morph and tremble, uncertain now that they’re free, painting the landscape in shadows wherever they crawl.

The ground around them is starting to grow teeth.

“Why?” II can barely hear himself over the cacophony rising from the apocalypse in motion. Tears spill down his cheeks and crystallize. “I don’t understand.”

The thing that is not god or a man is laughing. 

“Why did this have to happen?”

The thing that is not a god or a man is weeping.

Black tar is gurgling underneath him, rising like a tide. Hands sprout from the muck to latch onto his limbs and drag him down with exponential speed. He doesn’t fight it. His head is still craned to the sky, to what remains of the man he loves, and he closes his eyes to pray for one last wish. 

This can’t be how it ends. If he could just turn back the clock he’d stop this from ever happening, do things right, save all of them, he could he could he could —

He opens his eyes to a white ceiling and an alarm blaring in his ears. It figures the afterlife would be noisy and...familiar? That's the word. There's an uncomfortable warmth radiating from the soft sheets beneath him and the duvet above, body heat trapped between both after hours of rest. A mundane discomfort.

Wait a second.

He violently kicks off the sheets tangled around his sweaty legs and slams his palm on the snooze button, heart at a gallop. Dull blue light leaks through the cheap venetian blinds at his window.

His window. This is his room, in his flat, in…

He scrambles for the smartphone left precariously at his bedside table, tapping it on. The date on the lockscreen is January of 2016.

Oh, shit.

Either his brain has just taken him on the longest, most wickedly lucid nightmare of his entire life, or he’s been granted a miracle. 

[seekslight-arch]

Perhaps she senses that she's being watched, or perhaps she doesn't, too mystified by the way the shadows cast from the trees shift and change on the ground below. Either way, Kayn watches her progress with interest. Though he has travelled all throughout Ionia in the decade since he first fell into Zed's order, he rarely travels outside — only occasionally to Piltover or, even more occasionally, to Noxus, always kept on a tight leash like Zed's afraid he'll wander off.

The way she styles herself is unfamiliar, and that alone is cause for interest. She seems uneasy, but Kayn can't pinpoint a cause. He should return to Zed, relay what he learned in his mission, but he finished ahead of time and he's bored.

"Your hand is glowing." The shadows seem to say, and a moment later Kayn appears at her shoulder, his voice coalescing near her ear. "Why?"

@umbane ✨

𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, somewhere in the lower demacia, there's an almost forgotten city once destroyed by an earthquake.

terbisia is in ruins, but there's something lively to it — between buildings once crumbled under demacian people now wander tens of refugee mages setting tents and starting fires, now dead tired, but before they can fully settle for a long awaited break from being on the run these past weeks, they have to prepare their temporary shelters, even if just for the moody weather, dark clouds gathering above their heads.

luxanna is two days away from the camp she ordered to set up, deep into the nearby forests, looking for any signs of the mageseekers or the creature she was told to once hunt and kill all the soldiers around. she's clearly uneasy, running on fumes and pure determination, the light from her hand now dim and flickering, rainbow edges illuminating the path she chose. she's making a huge circle around, ready to fight anyone even potentially endangering the people she swore to protect.

her eyelids are heavy, curtains of long lashes blurring the vision. perhaps it is time for a break, she thinks, the heavy bag drapped over her shoulder with a bedroll and blanket making it hard to resist, and yet she tries, just few more steps, an hour of strolling or so, before she reaches her final point and will be able to close her eyes for at least few hours. compass in her hand led the way.

but then suddenly, there's a rush of adrenaline, like a lightning striking through her brain to the rest of her body; instincts above everything make her turn and shoot a seemingly small laser beam that burns a hole in a nearby tree. she missed.

but whatever spoke to her didn't look lika a mageseeker and like a monster she was told could haunt these forests, and so even though she remains alert, she narrows her eyes deciding it's best to answer the question.

“i do not posess the talent to see in the dark,” she explains, her voice raspy and stern; inimical. “so i use this light to banish the shadows.”

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

❧ 37. Intermission 

❧ Masterlist - Previous - Next

❧ A/N: get ready for some corn! 

Weddings were usually your favourite. From the enchanting aura encompassing the venue, to the noises of unadulterated joy bouncing off the walls - you loved it all. Since you were a little girl, you would always feel as though you were floating amongst the clouds above whenever you attended a wedding. The feeling only enhanced once you began planning the weddings yourself. It was always your goal to bring your employers peace and happiness on their special day. And as always, you were succeeding today based on smiles that never left the special couple’s faces. 

Yet today, you could not share the gaiety with those around you. For the entire night, a storm cloud had loomed over your head, threatening to pour its contents at any given moment. At first, you associated the sensation with the exhaustion of finally finishing a rather large project. Yet your hypothesis became more and more susceptible to doubt as the night went on. 

The actual reason for your dismay was revealed only when the couple were completing their vows. As those around you cheered in unison, the liquid finally disbursed from above, staining your cheeks in the process. Strangely enough, Akito’s closing had orchestrated the storm clouds hovering over you. 

“You know... My only regret was not saying yes to you sooner. To be fair, I was pretty stupid before I met you. I’d give my heart to every piece of shit - sorry, mind my language - but yeah, I’d give it to them without a second thought. And then here comes this perfect person... Someone who treats me right, and I fucking freeze.” 

A chorus of laughter echoed throughout the ballroom, bringing the dark-haired woman to shoot the crowd a cheesy grin. But the words only clogged up your throat. 

“I’m just saying, I’m thankful you waited for me. And well... thank you for loving me. I promise I won’t make you wait any longer.” 

After her conclusion, the groom leaned forward and issued a teasing remark towards his bride, but the humour was lost on you. The thunder and lightning occurring above your head had your stomach forming knots. 

Was Kenma right? Were you simply sabotaging your own happiness the way Akito did? 

Because you were happy with Iwaizumi. Beyond happy, if anything. And when he was emotionally unavailable, you were prepared to deliver your heart to him on a silver platter. But now that he has shown progress and growth, you’re hesitating? You were always so quick to accept those who needed to be fixed but not those who were okay. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t change. You could take a lesson from Akito right now and disrupt the path usually taken. And Iwaizumi’s last snap to you provided you with the perfect method of correcting your mistakes. 

Without a second thought, you approached the venue coordinator while fetching your phone from your purse. 

“Thea, I need to leave for a bit. I’ll be back in 30-ish minutes. Do you think you could cover for me? Please?” After purposefully expanding your eyes to signify the urgency of the situation, the older woman signed and motioned for you to go on ahead. 

“Thank you!” A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips to express your gratitude. And as you continued out of the venue in a rushed pace, you pressed on the contact of the one person refusing to leave your thoughts. 

“Y/n?” It took Iwaizumi a few seconds to answer, but he did not hesitate before issuing you a greeting. He didn’t expect to hear from you until much later, but your call was a happy surprise. 

“Hi. Are you still at the bridge? If so, do not move.” You exhaled the request once slipping into the taxi’s backseat. Thankfully, you could recognize where Iwaizumi was based on the photograph he took. You were also lucky that the bridge he was at was only a five minutes drive from the venue. 

“What? Yeah, I am. Why?” The athletic trainer instinctively shifted his gaze to the area behind him, part of him foolishly hoping he would see you there. His moment of disappointment, of course, would be short-lived, but he was unaware of that at the time.  

“Can you ask that question later? Just don’t move, okay? Thank you, bye!” A strained smile plastered across your mouth once you ended the call. The taxi driver raised an eyebrow at you in amusement, to which you responded with an awkward laugh. 

You knew that you most likely appeared slightly insane based on your behaviour, and it didn’t help that you forgot your jacket when it was snowing outside. Your driver probably thought you were drunk, and at that moment, you did feel slightly inebriated from the rush of emotions. 

You wouldn’t have left the wedding if you thought there was a realistic possibility that something would go wrong. They were about to have dessert, meaning it was the perfect time to slip away. What honestly had your heart hammering away in your chest was the question of what would occur next. 

What would you say to him? What would you do? What was the appropriate way to approach the subject? Should you be direct? Or should you try to make conversation first? 

A piece of you knew that if you didn’t act immediately, you would lose your confidence, which meant time was of the essence. Yet your minefield of thoughts silenced when the driver stopped at the bridge and the familiar male melted into view. 

After ushering the driver a bill, you didn’t waste a second before climbing out of the vehicle. Once you were fully stood outside and subjected to the icy pelts floating down gracefully from the sky above, there was only one thing you wanted to do. 

This time Iwaizumi noticed you instantly, his eyes blinking wide in surprise. Before his mind could catch up, his feet were already carrying him towards you. Similarly, your body reacted quicker than your brain. 

“What are you doing here? Where’s your jacket? Did something happen?” He was already in the process of securing his own coat around your shoulders once you were close enough to touch. 

But rather than answer his questions adequately, you elected to say what you wanted to say for a while now. 

“I want to be with you.” Swallowing once, your y/e/c irises drifted down to his lips. You were acting purely on impulse, but it was liberating to state your truth finally. “I want you, Hajime.” 

Ahead of you, the athletic trainer could not conceal his reaction. He tried to vocalize something - anything, but nothing tangible came out. And before you could lose your edge, you lifted up on your toes and pressed your lips against his. It took him less time to react to the kiss, as his palms were on your cheeks straight away, and his mouth moved against yours with fervour that further warmed your chest. When you pulled away to catch your breath, you saw Iwaizumi continued to struggle to find the correct words, which was oddly adorable. 

“I’ll take that as you want me too.” 

A smile took form over your lips as they collided against his once more. With your arms taking their rightful place around his neck; you wished that the ending credits of a Disney film would start playing. You internally begged the heavens above to confirm the future of your relationship with the words, “and they lived happily ever after.” Yet, the confirmation you were desperately seeking could not be given to you. While you did not know it at the time, if there were something to be displayed for your imaginary viewers, it would be only one word. 

Intermission. 

Because you were in the middle of your story. Not the end.

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[blackkatmagic]

:3 :3 :3 💖💖💖💖 :3 :3 >3

(As context for everyone else: OK, but the hilarious image of a group of medic clones becoming Sith, trying to get Shank to join them while Shank refuses with all the adamance of a toddler who refuses to eat their broccoli)

“Well,” Payback says, eyeing the expanse of the battlefield that is suddenly much emptier and much, much quieter. “That worked better than I expected.”

“You were expecting to be able to shoot lightning from the sky?” Shank demands, and it’s against every instinct to drop his pack and stop moving before the battle is well and truly over, with all the wounded back in medical and the beds gone quiet, but—

He eyes Kix, still breathing hard, where he’s kneeling next to Ahsoka, and—well. Kix took care of it, apparently. Kix really took care of it. there's no one Shank can see who still needs medical treatment, even if took an alarming amount of screaming to get them there.

“No,” Payback says, and that smile is a little too charming when his eyes are yellow. “Which is why I said it worked better.” He pauses, looking down at his hands, and when he raises his head again, there's something very grim and very tired and very determined settling into the lines of his face. “She was telling the truth, apparently.”

Shank grimaces. “I told you old women loitering near springs in the middle of the forest is shady,” he says pointedly, and because he’s really trying not to think about anything the woman told them being the truth, he grabs Kix's arm, helps haul him to his feet. “Okay, what pieces are missing that weren’t missing before?”

“I'm fine,” Kix says, even though he’s still winded, and he doesn’t even try to protest when Payback takes his other arm, helps half-carry him over to a tangle of mossy rocks. He sinks down on them with a groan, and Payback manages to get his scanner out before Shank can, checking Kix over and then tilting the screen so Shank can see. Actually fine, even if his heartrate is a little elevated, Shank thinks, frowning. That’s—

“We’re Sith,” Kix says, raising his head. He swallows, looks from Payback to Shank, and then says, “We can stop it. All the fighting.”

Oh no, Shank thinks, and that’s a definite resigned sort of sinking feeling in his stomach.

“We managed it here,” Payback agrees mildly, and he tips his head, looks at Shank with one brow raised. It’s that look he wears when he’s trying to pretend that challenge accepted isn't his life’s motto. “Wolfpack’s about to be deployed to Dantooine.”

“We can save them,” Kix says, and swallows. Pushes up—

Almost sits back down hard, because he’s still hanging onto Shank, and Shank has his shebs firmly planted on the karking mossy rock.

“Shank?” Payback asks, other brow rising to meet the first.

“What?” Kix wants to know, frowning. “Come on, if we go now we can get to Dantooine in six hours—”

Shank folds his arms over his chest and doesn’t budge. “No,” he says. “I'm not going to be a Sith. I wouldn’t be a Jedi, and I refuseto be a Sith.”

There's a pause, and Shank gives both Payback and Kix a dirty look for the look they're exchanging over his head. Then, with a sigh, Payback folds his arms as well, tips his head.

“I'm tired of patching up troopers,” he says. “I just want them to be fixed permanently and not come into my operating room like there's a revolving door. And the three of us together are probably strong enough and smart enough to beat a real Sith Lord.”

“Have fun,” Shank tells him, and means it. if Payback thinks he can stop the war, Shank hopes it’s true. “I'm not leaving. I'm not turning into a Sith.”

“Shank,” Kix says, and Shank pulls a face at the very serious, very even tone, because that’s Kix's business voice and no one comes out on the other side unscathed. No one except Shank, at least.

“Nope,” he says, and drops his pack on the rock next to him, just to make a point.

“Shank,” Payback says, pointed. “We can—”

“You can. I'm not a Sith. It doesn’t matter what creepy old women in big hooded robes say.”

“We have Force abilities and you want to ignore them—”

“I'm not going to ignore them. I'm going to find a cave in the middle of swamp somewhere and meditate until I'm absolutely surethat the guy with anger issues isn't accidentally going to torch a city—”

[make-me-imagine]

Unspoken

Prompts: 'Hands brush as you stand next to each other, you think it's on accident until their hands gentle wrap around yours.' + 'Silent fields surrounded by fog' and 'First realization of love.' Requested By: @youngcroissantturkeyworribler (these were two separate requests, that I have combined)

Pairing: Red Harvest x GN!Reader

Warnings: Bit angsty, mentions of violence, guns, blood, nothing graphic.

Word Count: ~2.4k

-

Every noise seemed ten times louder as you strained your ears, expecting the sound of horses any second. If you knew any better you would think anything within a hundred feet could hear your heart beating. Your eyes strained to catch any movement across the empty foggy fields.

Your nerves might have gotten the best of you had Red Harvest not been right beside you. His eyes scanned the area as well, as you forced to keep yours forward. Though every time you heard him exhale, you were tempted to look over at him.

You had no idea why you were here. Chisolm told you to go with Red Harvest to wait for the arrival of the gang, but didn't tell you why. Red Harvest was faster, quieter on his own. You would only slow him down.

But he did not complain, or say anything to Chisolm when you rode out on your horse with him. You wanted to ask Red Harvest if he knew why you were here, but you needed to wait, to make sure there was no one around. You couldn't see well enough across the field to make a proper assumption.

If you hadn't been waiting for a deadly gang to come through, you would think the field peaceful. The grass swayed lightly back and forth, as the fog rolled peacefully across the ground. You could hear a trickling stream nearby, as birds sang in the trees above you. The morning sun was just rising, so a dull orange glow was slowly spreading out across the ground, lightning up the fog like fire.

As Red Harvest adjusted himself, looking behind the two of you, scanning the area one more time, he settled back down beside you. You felt a jolt of surprise shoot through you as his arm rested against yours. His hand sitting on the ground merely an inch away from your own. He had moved closer to you. Should you move your arm? Should you scoot away? Would he be offended?

You didn't want to move, you liked when he was close by. You felt safe with him. You finally spared a glance at him, his eyes were set on the horizon, his jaw clenched. You forced yourself to look away from him as you watched a bird fly over the field.

As you felt Red Harvest's arm slide against yours briefly as he settled closer to the ground, he still did not move away. He would never be this close to any of the others without being uncomfortable. Maybe you could attribute it to your friendship, to your bond.

Red Harvest seemed to trust you, to like you. He talked to you more than he did the others. Maybe it was because you could speak his language better than the others.

But that didn't necessarily attribute to the fact he told you about his past, his family, what had happened when he left. You told him about your past in return, and he listened carefully. You knew things about each other none of the others did. And you always trusted the other to have your back.

Chisolm said it was because he found a likeness in you, an unspoken bond that brought you together. Faraday said it was because he had a crush on you. "If only." You caught yourself thinking.

But sometimes you thought maybe that was it. When you would catch Red Harvest watching you from afar, or checking in on you. If you didn't eat much, he would slide his plate to you, or put a piece of his bread on your plate. He cared for you in ways you did not expect. Maybe it was more than just trust he held for you. You could hope, at least.

Your thoughts suddenly vanished as a flock of birds nearby shot into the sky. Your body flinched as you reached for your gun instinctively. Red Harvest stiffened beside you as you both seemed to hold your breath.

On the other side of the fog, you saw something creeping closer. You squinted your eyes, trying to see if it was someone on horseback, or maybe someone walking up through the field.

The anxiety in your chest rose, getting tighter and tighter, until, you and Red Harvest let out a breath at the same time, as a tall deer waded through the fog. Behind the large buck, a few more deer, following close behind.

You hung your head, letting your forehead rest on the ground for a moment. You knew Red Harvest looked over at you as you did so. You shook your head and almost laughed. Looking back up, you admired the deer as they walked towards the stream.

"I think it's safe to say they are not here yet." Red Harvest finally spoke.

You looked over at him and met his eyes, you nodded before relaxing your hands, and letting go of your gun. "Part of me hopes they never come." You admitted softly.

Red Harvest watched you for a moment before nodding silently.

This new gang you were up against were cruel. They burned down a shop full of people just because the shop owner wouldn't sell them guns they didn't have. They would come through the town almost every year, tearing half of it down as they did. And now you were going to do something it.

But these men would do anything to protect themselves, they would kill anyone who stood in there way. It would he a heavy fight, dangerous, and all of you knew that someone might not make it out.

Your thoughts were once again diminished. But this time, not by a sudden flock of birds or movement in the distance. Your eyes lingered on Red Harvest's hand. His hand was partially on your own. Did he realize? You looked over at him out of the corner of your eye. He was looking straight ahead. Did he see something? You looked forward, into the fog. You saw nothing, heard nothing.

You looked back down at your hands, his hands were softer than you were expecting. You shook the thought away. Was it an accident?

Suddenly his hand moved over yours completely, before his fingers flexed, grabbing your own lightly. Your heart seemed to freeze as your breath hitched.

Finally, you looked over at him. You were going to ask if something was wrong, if he heard something. But when he looked at you, your words died on your tongue. His eyes held something you didn't recognize. His hand squeezed yours ever-so-lightly before he spoke, softly, almost a whisper.

"It's going to be okay." You remained silent, your eyes locked with his. He continued. "No matter how many of them come, we can beat them. Together."

You were lost for words for a moment, before you nodded slightly. "Together." You repeated, and for some reason, it felt like a promise, like the sealing of fate no one could change.

His eyes stayed locked with yours, neither of you blinked or looked away, you both seemed stuck in each others gaze. Something unspoken was happening between you as his hands tightened around yours, as though he was afraid to let go.

Suddenly, like a shock of electricity, you realized what it was you were feeling. And at the same moment, he felt it too. It came to both of you quickly, taking over in a rush of confusion and fear. You didn't just trust each other. It was more. More than trust, or a bond you felt the moment you met. It was love. Or at least the beginnings of it.

Before either of you could voice your realizations, the distant sound of hoof-beats sounded over the silent field. Your eyes widened a bit as you both looked out. The fog was beginning to thin as the sun rose in the sky, bringing with it warmth of the day.

You didn't need to wait around to know who was coming. It wasn't just a single horse, it was a dozen.

Red Harvest did not let go of your hand, but instead yanked you up. You both ran, crouched down, into the trees to get to your horses. You had a short cut to get back to town before the gang.

For now, what happened with Red Harvest would have to wait. But you were more willing to fight your way out of this than you had been before. You had more to fight for now. A question unanswered, a confession unspoken, that you did not want to die waiting for.

- - - - -

You let out a deep breath as you watched some of the locals pass by, carrying tools and wood towards the damaged school house. Across the street, the kids and their mothers carried around bandages for the wounded, and water to put out any remaining fires.

Your body ached and your head pounded if you looked around too fast. The adrenaline from the fight had finally faded, and you were left feeling like you had sprinted across miles of land.

The plan went surprisingly smooth, the gang ended up being just as surprisingly dumb. They made too many mistakes, got too angry, let their guards down too many times. And now it was over.

Vasquez got shot in the leg, Faraday got a black eye and a busted lip. Goody and Billy got grazed here and there. Jack, Chisolm and Red Harvest were unscathed as per usual.

And you, having had a run in with a rather unnaturally large gang member, ended up throwing yourself, and the man, out of a window. It, having been your plan, allowed you the opportunity to grab onto the edge of the window before climbing back in safely. However, glass had dug into your hands and left you with some bloody palms. Not ideal for a gunfight, but you managed well enough. Especially when anyone who tried to sneak up on you fell to the ground with an arrow in their back before they got to you.

You cursed to yourself as you dropped the bandage roll for the third time as you tried to wrap with your wounded and non-dominant hand. As you moved to grab the bandage, another hand swooped in and grabbed it first.

Looking up, you met with Red Harvest's familiar dark brown eyes. He moved to sit on the steps beside you as he dusted off the bandage. Suddenly your heart was beating again, as a new kind of adrenaline rushed through you.

Red Harvest gently grabbed your hand before he began to fix the poor wrapping job you did.

"Thank you." You said softly with a smile.

You caught the ghost of a smile pass his lips as he nodded. "Did you clean them?" He asked.

"Yes." You said, trying not to smile. He always asked that, even though you always did.

"I saw what you did." He continued. "It was risky. If you had not grabbed the window, you would have been badly hurt."

You shrugged, "I would have been either way. So it was either go out the window, or go up against that Goliath on my own. I know how to pick my fights."

Another ghost of a smile played on his lips. Catching yourself staring, you looked down at your hands, watching as he carefully handled them, not wanting to hurt you.

"Why were you watching the hotel?" You asked, realizing that he must have been to see what happened. Though you both knew he was supposed to be watching the church.

You saw his hands hesitate for a moment. "I saw the man go in. I knew you were inside."

"You were watching out for me. To make sure I came back out." You said softly. Not an accusation, or question.

He was silent for a moment before he nodded a bit. "I'm always watching out for you."

"Yeah, you are." You said softly, counting the many times he was always there when you needed him. As if he always knew. "Why?" You asked softly.

He tucked the end of the bandage so it would not unravel, he did not let go of your hand. He stared at your hands as he spoke.

"Chisolm says that maybe there is an unspoken bond between us. A connection that existed before we ever met, that maybe its the reason we were brought together like this. Why our paths are so different than what they were once. And why, we seem to know each other so well."

Your heart pounded so heavily in your chest you could hear it. "Do you believe him?"

"I don't know. I do not wish to guess at what my path is, but I wish to follow wherever it may lead. And whether or not it led to you, or you are simply a moment on the way, I am glad we met, I am glad you are here."

You smiled at him. "I am too."

"But there is something else."

"What's that?"

"I do not wish what I feel to remain unspoken, but-" he hesitated, and you saw a flash of frustration cross his face as he looked at his feet. "I am unsure of how- how to."

You squeezed his hand a little bit and he looked back into your eyes. "It's not unspoken. Not really. You've said it a dozen times in a dozen different ways. When you ask if I am okay. When you ask if I ate, or cleaned my wounds. When you chastise me for making a bad decision."

He smiled, not the ghost of a smile, but an actual one. "When I asked Chisolm to let you come with me to watch for the gang." He said softly, your eyes widened with realization. Before you could speak he continued. "Or...when you tell me not to disappear randomly without saying goodbye. Or ask if I need help collecting my arrows." He added on, and you smiled, nodding.

Your eyes locked steadily again, and just as it felt in the field before, that jolt of electricity passed between you again. What both of you felt didn't need to be said in any specific way. Not completely. Because you both felt it. That bond that seemed to push you together. Spoken, or unspoken, you knew.

xx End xx

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging! This is a fairly small fandom, so any reblog helps tremendously with getting it spread around.

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfireMagnificent Seven Taglist: @spuffyfan394 - let me know if you want to be added.

[kyberphilosopher]

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead. 

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired. 

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits. 

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you  liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights. 

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest. 

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.  

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face. 

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry. 

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair. 

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic? 

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly. 

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why. 

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber. 

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God. 

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for. 

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?” 

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place. 

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening. 

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you. 

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look. 

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around. 

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too. 

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing. 

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls. 

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

[jamie-leah]

Traitor

Bucky x Reader

Oneshot

Summary: Everyone thinks you're a traitor but Bucky isn't convinced.

Word: 2592

Warnings: Swearing, action stuff, hints at abuse and violence at the end.

A/N: I had a half formed daydream that turned into this. Starts strong, ends weak, enjoy!

Oneshot Masterlist Series Masterlist

Steve throws your file on the desk in front of Bucky. Bucky just stares at your face on the front of the folder, pinned by a silver paper clip.

Silver was your favourite type of jewellery. Bucky remembered storing the information away for when he bought you a silver necklace for your birthday not long ago.

“I’m sorry, Buck, but we had an operative confirm everything I just told you. Y/N is a contract killer, an assassin and she was sent here to infiltrate and kill. Namely, all of us.”

Bucky hears the words coming from Steve’s mouth, but he can’t understand them. Images of you flash in his mind. You laughing at one of his lame jokes, you crying in his arms from a nightmare, you underneath him moaning his name as he kisses a trail down your neck.

Bucky shakes his head, “I don’t believe that Steve, I can’t. Who’s the source? How do you know they’re legit?”

Steve picks up a remote and points it at a screen in the room. It blinks to life on a still image of you in a restaurant, kissing the cheek of one of the most prominent mob bosses in the city and known Hydra agent.

Bucky stands so fast his chair cracks on the floor as he tears out of the office at full speed. He skips passed the elevator and takes the stairs, missing steps in his rush.

He keeps going and going until he hits the lowest level underneath the tower and storms passed all the guards. None of them challenge him, too afraid of the former Winter Soldier to get in his way.

As Bucky gets to the cells, he grabs an agent by the scruff and grinds out, “which cell?”

They all knew who he was talking about. Everyone would be talking about this for a while to come. The agent points into the open space of cells and stutters, “its, c-cell 203”.

Bucky drops the agent and stalks through the cells until he finally comes to 203. He steps into view with clenched fists and doesn’t pause before he asks, “why?”

You sit on the edge of the cot, elbows on knees, staring at the grey wall opposite. It takes you a moment to build up the courage to look at him. You never intended for this to happen. You never wanted to get feelings involved, but as you look at Bucky, you know it’s far too late for that now. Now you have a mess on your hands.

You debate how to play this. Do you keep up the contract killer façade or do you confess, tell him everything you’ve ever wanted to tell another human being before?

“Barnes, I should have known you would pay me a visit sooner rather than later.”

Bucky felt like you had struck him in the face with the way you addressed him, but he holds firm, “why?”

“Why what? I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific”, you reply coolly as you stand to face him.

Bucky changes his question, “is it true? Are you a contract killer?”

It takes you a few moments to keep the mask in place, “yes”.

You watch the pain flash across his features for the briefest of moments before he locks it away to be felt in private. It breaks your heart, but you’re so used to the feeling it never shows on your face.

Bucky goes to turn from you, wanting to get away, the sight of you too much to bear. You throw a question out into the void between you before he can retreat, “are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

Bucky never turns back to look at you, but he whispers, “was any of it ever real?”

Despite knowing this was the question, despite hearing it from a few people across your lifetime, it was the first time it ever hit you in the gut with such force you had to take a silent gulp of air before choking out, “no”.

He leaves without another word.

You wait a few days. Working out the routine of the place before you wait for your next move.

You wait with your back to a small portion of the concrete wall next to the cell door. A blind spot. And when the guard brings your food and slides it under the metal bars, he looks up to find you missing.

Just as he steps closer to look, you strike. You shoot your arms between the bars and pull so hard his head bangs into the metal and he crumples, out cold.

You drag is body parallel to the door and you sweep his body for keys. You start to lose hope when your hand flits over cool metal and a little jingle rings out.

You wait fifteen minutes until lights out and the use the keys. You drag the guard into the cell, swapping your uniforms before closing the door and locking him in. You check all your hair is tucked until the cap before heading for the locked door between freedom and your prison.

You rap on the metal with your heart beating furiously against your ribcage. But the door opens without a problem and you have to stop yourself from sprinting down the hall and up the stairwell.

Once you make it up one flight of stairs with no alarms raised you start to sprint. Before you leave, you have to make it back to your room for your go bag. You can’t leave it when it has all the information you need for what started this all off.

You run and run and run. You run until your lungs burn with a fire that’s been flowing in your veins since you were born. You run until your legs scream at you to stop and just when you don’t think you can take any more flights of stairs, you make it to the top.

You stop. Your hand on the handle, taking a moment to get your breathing under control. You push the handle down slowly and open the door a crack to find the hallway in darkness.

You slip through and creep on the tiles without a sound as you make it to the first spare room in the hall.

You get into the room no problem and let out a breath when you realise no one knows you used this room to stash your information.

You waste no time in grabbing your go back from the closet, checking everything you need is in there before heading for the door again. Three steps from the exit and alarms scream out, waking everyone from their slumber. The alarm is followed by a female robotic voice, “alert, alert, prisoner escape. Alert, alert, prisoner escape.”

You swear under your breath as you rush out the door to see Bucky, Natasha and Sam at the end of the hall, near the stairway. Your only exit.

They spot you seconds after you spot them, and you take off running in the opposite direction. You can’t afford a hand to hand with all three of them. As confident as you are in your abilities they have just as much, and you don’t want to hurt them.

They shout in your direction, but you ignore them as you unzip your bag and rummage around for a miracle. You get to the living space when you finally feel it and a flimsy plan comes to mind.

You turn, gun in both hands as you drop the go bag. Bucky, Natasha and Sam all creep into the room, guns pointed in your direction as yours is in theirs.

“There’s nowhere else to go now, Y/N,” Sam says in his calm way.

You hold firm, the sofas keeping the four of you apart. You look in Bucky’s direction as you talk, “things are more complicated than they seem. And I’m sorry you were caught up in it. I’m not a good person and I’ll get what I deserve, but I have something I need to do first.”

“And what’s that? Kills us?”, Nat asks.

You shake your head, still looking at Bucky, “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it three times over. You’re not my mission.”

“Then give yourself up and explain.” Sam tries to reason.

You lower your gun slowly, “it would take too long, and you may never believe me. I can’t afford that, and I’ll never get a chance like this again.”

Bucky remains silent throughout the whole exchange, but you study each other the entire time. You try to convey that you lied earlier before reaching up your arm with lightning speed.

Two shots and the chandelier that Stark insisted on installing for the living room crashes in front of the three as you turn and shoot the glass window. As the glass spiderwebs, you drop the gun and run at full speed. You have a moment to acknowledge that throwing yourself from the top of the tower is the dumbest move you’ve ever made as the air rushes to greet you.

You twist with a hand in your pocket and throw upwards, watching and praying for your miracle to work as the rope and hook catches and you plummet.

You fall down the building on the rope watching the ground and unclip at the last second, rolling with the momentum as the impact jars through your bones.

Bucky couldn’t believe you threw yourself out the window. He was the first to recover, leaping over the lights and the sofa to dive head first after you. He digs his metal hand into the concrete and slides down after you.

He sees you roll and run immediately like the pro that you are and wastes no time pursuing you.

You dart between traffic and glance behind to see him behind you. You growl in frustration at the stubborn solider, having to change your plans once again as you head for the roads.

You instinctively feel Bucky gaining on you with the serum pumping through his veins so when you spot a cargo truck coming on the road below. You don’t hesitate to jump off the road you’re on and slam into the truck underneath.

Your lungs scream for the third time that night as all the air leaves them, but you pay no attention as you look up to find Bucky staring after you.

You walk in the quiet of the night, looking down at the folded piece of paper. You check you have the right address when the empty warehouse finally comes into view. You slip in without any problems and head over to the machine where you stashed more stuff.

Just as you go to reach for the bag you hear the click of a gun. You freeze. You turn slowly, with your hands visible and find yourself staring into the face of Bucky and the barrel of his gun.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and sigh, “how did you find me?”

“Please, do you really think I don’t know you after all this time? After our talk in the cells, I checked all the spare rooms. Found your go bag and the addresses. This was the closest one to the tower”, Bucky replies with an easy shrug.

You nod your head, “but if you found them, why did you leave them there? Why didn’t you tell anyone else?”.

“Tell me what’s going on, Y/N”, Bucky dodges the question.

You knew there was no other way out of this now. You had to tell him if you ever had a hope of getting this done tonight.

“Look, can you put the gun down-“

“Not until you tell me what’s going on. I can’t trust you.”

You pretend like his words don’t hurt, though they’re warranted, “okay, okay. Look, most of it is true. I am a contract killer. Long story short, I was born into a mob family. Mum died giving birth to me and left me and my older sister with my piece of shit father, the “use you as an ashtray type father”. At least he did with my sister. She took the brunt of his shit…anyway, when I turned 13 and had my first period, he sold me to a man. That man? Was the mob boss I know you saw me with, Joe Selene. I’ll skip passed all the torture and right to the part where he trained me as a contract killer for him and bided my time. My father had gone underground and with my limited access to resources I couldn’t find him.”

Bucky lowers the gun as you go through your story, his features softening at your tale of tragedy.

“I swore to my sister that I would come for her but I needed to gain the trust of Selene so I could get the resources to find my father. That was when he got involved with Hydra and they asked him to take you out. I agreed, knowing that you would have all the resources I needed to find my father and my sister.”

Bucky shakes his head, “why didn’t you tell me, us, any of this? We could have helped you.”

You look away from him, “because about a week after I got to the tower, I read my sisters name in the obituary. All the people I had killed to get to my sister was for nothing. She died alone, waiting for a rescue that never came and I knew…I knew that I was going to kill that bastard for everything that happened. I also knew that none of you would let me. You would reason about justice and doing things the right way. But I know what’s right and that’s that bastard six feet under and in hell.”

You look back up at Bucky to find him already watching you. You square your shoulders and jut your chin as you say, “so, you’re either with me or against me and so help me God, if you try to stop me from leaving this building and killing that piece of shit, I will not hesitate to put you down. I told you that you’re not my mission, but I will damn make sure nothing gets in the way.”

Bucky nods, “I’m in.”

You turn back to your bag and pull out the knives to strap around your body. You hand a few to Bucky and he takes them without a word.

As he turns to head back out of the warehouse you throw the question out again, “are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

Bucky turns to look at you this time. He captures your eyes with his as he stares into your soul and whispers, “was any of it real?”

You reply without hesitation, “yes. Every single word.”

Bucky takes a few long strides before grabbing your face with his hands and crashing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. You return with the same ferocity, gripping his shirt in your fists to try and bring his body closer to yours.

When you can no longer breathe, you break the kiss. You both pant as Bucky brings his forehead down to meet yours. He whispers, “after we go drop a few bodies, what do you say we go take a trip. Just you and me?”

[miss-smutty]

A/N- I've been dubious about writing Thor but I just had to do this, it's been running around my mind for weeks 🙈 I'll be adding this to my Valentine's One-Shot series

Summary- You've been stood up, on valentine's Day or all days. At least you won't be spending the night alone, now Thor finally has you to himself.

Word count- 1, 806

Pairing- Thor x you

Warnings- Swearing, smut, unprotected sex

18+ Only!

Posted: 10th February 2021

⚡ Bolts of Pleasure ⚡

You leant your head on the cold, marble worktop - the coolness easing the pressure of the already lingering tension head ache. How could he stand you up? Today of all day's. 

Somewhere in the distance, over the sound of your own thoughts, you barely hear the sound of the main door sliding open. Nonchalantly wondering who it could be, you knew it wasn't Tony because he was out at dinner with Pepper and you knew this because you were supposed to be there too - a double date. 

Something Pepper had organised because she was the one who set you up with that prick in the first place - you can't even bring yourself to say his name. You should've known dating anyone who wasn't involved in anything within the headquarters would end in trouble anyway.

You assumed the other couples would be out doing other romantic bullshit while you were sure all the other guys were on a mission. So who the hell could it be? 

The kitchen doors opened behind you and by the sounds of the unmistakably heavy foot fall, it was definitely Thor. Neither of you said anything for a noticeably long pause, you didn't even bother to move your head off of the kitchen worktop.

"You do know it's the day of the valentine's, don't you?" Comes Thors booming voice from behind you, trust him to state the obvious.

"Valentine's Day and yes of course I do, why do you think I'm here? Alone. Banging my head against the counter." 

"Please don't do that, I don't want you to hurt yourself" he says with a sincerity in his voice.

"Sarcasm just goes straight over your head doesn't it?" You say, finally standing up to face Thor just so he could see you rolling your eyes at him. You know the statement would be lost to him if he couldn't see your facial expressions.

"Not much can go over my head without me seeing it first, but yes if you say so" ok so even seeing your facial expression didn't work this time. You laugh out loud at his lack of understanding.

"Oh Thor, you do know how to cheer me up" 

"Good. Now you may proceed with your head banging if you so wish" 

Have you always found his ditziness to be so cute or is this a new occurance?

"I'm going to put my head back down but only because I have a banging headache, these pills should kick in soon. Besides now you're here you might as well keep me company" This made Thor smile from ear to ear as you resumed your earlier position.

Unbeknownst to you Thor had walked in to the room to find you bent over, your delicious ass accentuated by those tight leather trousers you were wearing. He'd been hoping to find you here alone, once he'd heard about you being stood up, but wasn't quite sure how to handle how he found you. If he had his way he would have just walked over and made his move straight away but he'd been taught how things work differently here and he's been working so hard on his restraint.

Now you're bent over again and it's making his mind go blank, all he can think about is how he wants to shove his dick into you while he grabs on to those voluptuous cheeks. 

"Thor?" You ask wondering why he's still stood by the doors.

Fuck, the way you say his name makes his fingertips tingle with bolts of electrical current. He wants to hear you scream his name while he's pulling your hair back and slamming his dick between those cheeks until he's balls deep. 

"Your trousers are very tight" You hear Thor's footsteps stop behind you and before you can mutter something about him stating the obvious a moan escapes your lips as a slight bolt of electric soars through your core. Where did that come from? 

Thor still hadn't quite got to grips with controlling his power while he was in the moment - maybe something to do with all the testosterone. His eyes widened, shocked by your reaction but the way he elicited that moan spurred him to continue.

Thor's hands were still gripping your ass as you got your bearings, realising where the shock came from and not hating the idea. You wanted more.

Moving his hands to your hips as you pushed yourself on to his straining cock, gripping on tightly while he pushed himself against you - his head hanging back as he bit his bottom lip and felt the lightning electrify his body.

Fuck me. If you knew sex with Thor would be this amazing you would've made sure it happened a lot sooner. You could feel his body tingling, like a vibration as the currents circulated through his veins,

flowing with the blood into his rather large appendige.

Thor slapped your ass again, accidentally catching your slit with his fingertips. Your pussy clenched as another bolt of pleasure went through you.

"Shit, Thor" you moaned deeply making him groan with desperation.

He's wanted to hear you saying his name, like that, for a while now and isn't disappointed with the way it sounds falling from your lips. Now he won't stop until your screaming his name, begging for him to fuck you into oblivion.

You pushed yourself against his now rock hard cock craving the feel of him inside of you. The vibration hits your clit and sends you over the edge, making you tremble and your knees go weak as you come, hard. Feeling dizzy as you come down.

Thor catches you as you buckle, turning you around and pushing you up against the counter. Your eyes are hooded with need as he handles your body, gripping at your curves with his electric fingers.

Your body jerks everytime he touches you, little does he know that with every touch your pussy clenches building up that deep orgasm once again. Thor's powers leave other men at a major disadvantage, how can anyone ever live up to this. Even worse, how can you now be around Thor without thinking about what he can do to you every time you see him.

His hand travels hungrily up your top, straight to your nipples while his lips attach to yours. You can feel his facial hair tickling your upper lip, a whole new sensation to your already tingling body.

Thor takes your tender, erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Squeezing gently as he emits tiny shocks and watches as you convulse around him, small, soft whimpers leaving your mouth involuntarily.

"Mmm, Thor. Fuck" you can't stand the tension much longer.

He's in awe with how much he can pleasure you with just the touch of his fingers. If he'd known it would be this easy to make your usual fiesty self, submit so easily, he wouldn't have been quite so intimidated by you. Look at you now, quivering under his touch, he's pretty sure your seconds away from fully giving yourself to him. He stops touching you, waiting to see how you'll react, testing his theory.

"Don't stop" you moan, pushing your heat against him as his hands grab your ass.

"Tell me what you want, my love" he whispers seductively against your ear, almost making you come.

"Oh god, do that again" you whine into his neck, wrapping your arms around his neck and savouring the other worldly scent of the god of thunder.

"Do what? My sweet - " his breath tickles your ear as he whispers again, he knows exactly what you want. Nibbling gently on your earlobe as you struggle to hold up the weight of your head, crumbling beneath him. " - Now, tell me what you want" 

"I want you. Fuck me Thor, fuck me hard" leaning back on your hands with your lips parted.

"I thought you'd never ask" he growls, his voice becoming impossibily deeper.

Trying to pull down those tight trousers is going to take way too long and he doesn't have the patience for that. Instead he reaches out and effortlessly slits the gusset in half. Unable to contain himself when he sees how wet you are.

You reach down to unbuckle his belt, he's watching you intently, his cock straining against his trousers. You pull them down, just enough to watch his cock spring up, with a weapon like that he has no need for the Mjolnir. You instinctively want to take it in your mouth but there's no time for that now. You lean backwards, watching as he lines his cock up with your entrance. He stops, pausing for an agonisingly long time, watching your face screw with need.

Thor can see how much you want him and he's savouring the moment, relishing in it. Not forgetting how he wants to hear you beg for him, waiting patiently. 

You look at him expectantly, grinding yourself forward until you can feel the tip of his cock. 

"Thor, please!" You plead embarrassingly, desperately.

That's all he needed to hear before he painfully, slowly eased himself into your tight pussy. Inhaling deeply as your walls clamped around him. Finally feeling the warmth of your insides, a feeling he's been craving since the first time he met you.

You laid back on to the counter while he gripped your thighs, holding them up as he slammed his cock deep into you, the pressure building as he relentlessly pounds you. Those bolts of pleasure sending shocks shooting through your veins, with every thrust.

Thor held onto your thighs tightly, gripping his thumbs into your flesh while he ravages you. Months and months of pent up frustration finally being released. Grunting as he thrusted the brutal strength of his passion into you with force, loving the way your face contorts with every hit of your spot.

"Thor!" You scream his name as you gush all over his cock when he hits your spot, hard, repeatedly.

Your finally screaming his name, hopefully not for the last time. He watches the way your third orgasm builds, clenching around him as your legs shake in his hands.

How could it be the only time, when this is what he does to you? You're a dripping mess by the time he's ready. The gripping sensation rising as your climaxes peak again, releasing sparks of lightning all around you. Pushing his cock deep inside you as he shoots his warm, powerful load into you.

Your hair clings to your face as you fall back onto the counter, your body feels like jelly and you can't move just yet. Your eyes are closed but you can feel Thor still holding your legs while he waits for you to recover, gently tickling your thighs with his thumb.

"I've wanted to do that for such a long time, would you be willing to make love with me again?" He says smiling widely, hardly breathelss at all - the stamina of a god! 

"You can do that again?" You say breathlessly, impressed with his enthusiasm.

"I can go all night, my love. I am the god of thunder" he says proudly, puffing out his chest. 

"You certainly are" 

[lazywonderlvnd]

Hi, if you are still taking prompts; A magically powerful Harry not noticing that his magic does things to make Draco happy. This can be pre-relationship or established relationship. Like it starts of with his tea being exactly as he likes and always the right temperature. Then evolves to rooms changing colour or weather changing or people being unable to invade Draco’s personal space due to an invisible barrier or something ridiculous. Btw Draco doesn’t notice as well.

anon.....you really killed me w this one. i’ve been so emo over this wyugeahrwiw might end up writing smth longer tbh bc this concept is literally the only thing that matters to me!!!!!!! i hope u enjoy i had so much fun with it ❤️❤️❤️

“Harry, you do it. Please.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“We’re fucking watching something, Draco!”

“So just pause it!”

Harry grabs the pillow on his lap and slams it onto the sofa next to him. Hermione can see dust rise in its wake. He pauses the telly. 

“Are you doing it?” Draco asks hopefully. Harry scowls at him. 

“Well you won’t shut up until I do, will you?”

“Definitely not.”

Harry disappears into the kitchen and Draco sits there looking smug.

“It’s kind of sick how you get off on bossing him around,” says Ron, his tone one of simple observation. His fingers are idly playing with Hermione’s hair, but she doesn’t think he notices he’s doing it. 

“If I’m not mean to him a few times a week I break out in a rash, Weasley,” Draco says blithely. “Besides, he makes it perfectly. I don’t know how he does it, it’s always exactly the right temperature and sweetness and all that. I s’pose his years as a house-elf for those Muggles gave him plenty of time to perfect the art.”

“You’re a twat,” says Ron. “And my mum makes tea better than him.”

“Well you’re just a pitiful little mummy’s boy, aren’t you, Weasley? We can hardly trust your opinion.”

“Hark who the hell’s talking,” Ron scoffs. “Least I’m not twenty-three and still calling my mum ‘mummy’ like the world’s biggest bloody ponce.”

Draco splutters but before he can retort Harry’s coming back into the room hovering four cups of tea that float placidly to each of them. Draco looks exactly like a satisfied cat as he takes his and Harry drops back down onto the sofa next to him. Not too close, but certainly not too far, either.

“Literally exquisite,” Draco declares after he’s taken a sip. Ron rolls his eyes.

“It’s just tea, Draco,” says Harry, and he grabs for the remote to turn the film back on. “You’re such a demanding little brat. Merlin’s fucking tits.”

But Draco looks happy and Harry looks suspiciously content as well. Ron turns to her and makes a silent gagging face. Hermione snorts and puts a finger to her lips. They’ve decided not to say anything yet.

*

“Wasn’t this place a lot … uglier last time?”

“What?” Harry says absently. He’s not listening — he’s got all his attention zeroed in on a stack of parchment he’s holding. They’d only barely dragged him along to lunch; earlier the captain of the English National Team had apparently owled him a great number of brand-new Quidditch plays and required Harry’s extensive thoughts and notes before their next practise, which was tomorrow morning. 

“Uglier,” Draco says emphatically, and Ron mutters something she doesn’t catch. “Remember? The walls were that tragic egg-yolk colour.” He shivers. Hermione thinks it might have been an honest-to-god shiver of revulsion. She also thinks she knows what’s happened, even though the extent of it surprises her.

“Maybe someone heard you whingeing and changed it,” Ron apparently can’t stop himself from saying with a snigger. Hermione elbows him hard and he shoots her a glare, mouthing, he doesn’t know!

Harry would usually be the one to take the lead and get them a table when all four of them go out to eat together but today he’s too wrapped up in his Quidditch plays, so Ron steps forward and does it, which makes Hermione’s chest flutter pleasantly. He’d blush down to his bones if she ever said it aloud but he’s quite capable of being a leader in Harry’s absences. 

“Whatever happened,” says Draco pointedly as they’re led to their table, “it’s a great bloody blessing, I was genuinely unsure I’d have the mental fortitude to survive another assault like that on my delicate senses. And, I mean, this —” he gestures to the walls, which are now an admittedly pleasing dark teal above a white trim “— is stunning. It’s my favourite colour.”

“Is it? So weird they picked your favourite colour completely by coincidence,” Ron says, and Hermione elbows him again. Draco notices nothing and neither does Harry, although he does finally set the plays aside once they’re seated at the table.

“Are you complaining about the wall colour again?” he asks drily. They would both be extremely displeased to know they sound like an old married couple. Draco snatches haughtily at the paper napkin on the table and unfolds it to place over his lap. The first time he’d ever done this at a regular, decidedly not upscale restaurant Ron had taken it upon himself to spend the entire meal adopting a posh accent to match Draco’s and saying things to the waiter like “Don’t you have crystal?” while holding up a glass cup full of Pepsi and then commenting “These aren’t real silver, you know” after making a show of inspecting the titanium utensils. 

“I can complain about hideous design choices if I want to,” Draco tells Harry with his nose in the air. “Thankfully they’ve rectified it this time.”

On the other side of the restaurant, Hermione sees two employees talking, one of them gesturing at the wall with utter bewilderment. She doesn’t point it out.

*

“Twelve o’clock,” says Ron, nodding past Draco’s shoulder. “Some bloke staring you down hard, Malfoy.”

Draco looks excitedly behind him, but what Hermione takes more notice of is the way Harry’s face falls a little. She can’t help but wonder if he even realises it’s happened. She’s almost certain he’s aware of his feelings for Draco even though he still hasn’t said anything to her (and she’s been waiting months now, the effort of holding her tongue growing only more difficult by the day, and she knows Ron’s always seconds away from shouting at him) but she doesn’t think he knows how obvious he is. Draco doesn’t seem to know either, but she thinks that’s because Draco feels exactly the same way. She’d have called them morons, but she remembers too well how long it had taken her and Ron.

“What the fuck, Weasley,” Draco hisses, turning back around with a scowl that makes Ron laugh and Harry perk up again a little bit. “He looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in weeks.”

“Now, now,” says Ron, “mustn’t judge books by their greasy covers.”

“Then you go shag him if you think he’s so fit.”

“Maybe I will,” Ron says airily, as if he really is considering it, and Hermione can’t help chuckling and kissing his cheek. Then his expression changes to one of wicked amusement, which makes all of them look round to see the bloke coming their way. Hermione glances at Harry to find that — oh yes, he looks flustered and vaguely upset.

“Hullo,” says the greasy bloke to Draco as he comes up beside him at their table. He’s really not terrible-looking, but if she’s learned anything about Draco in the last couple years it’s that his standards amount to models and Harry Potter, so this man has almost no chance.

“Hello,” Draco drawls, reminding her fiercely of his younger self at Hogwarts. “I’m not interested.”

“Right little narcissistic bugger, aren’t you?” the man says. And now, finally, he’s begun to look as revolting to Hermione as he’d done initially to Draco — a repellent personality can do that. “Maybe I just wanted to come and have a chat.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at any of the rest of us?” Ron asks, sounding halfway between amused still and a little put off.

“Can you leave, please?” Draco interjects, cringing away from the man encroaching slowly on his personal space. And suddenly, as he looks on the verge of antagonising Draco further, he shifts his feet and slips, landing right on his bum with a yell of surprise. All four of them get to their feet to see, but there doesn’t seem to be any liquid or even slimy food for him to have tripped on.

“The fuck ...?” the man says, getting back to his feet. But when he moved towards Draco, he only slips again, on absolutely nothing at all. Something clicks and Hermione looks at Harry: he seems as confused as anyone else (if obviously pleased).

She looks at Ron then, who catches her eye and lifts his brows like he’s thinking the same thing.

Draco’s suitor gets up once more and steadies himself, looking a bit dazed. Some deep animal instinct seems to tell him to stop trying, and with a wary glance at Draco he finally leaves.

“Well that was a bit of a fucking scene,” says Harry. Draco, coming out of his own startled daze, laughs.

“Yeah,” Ron says sarcastically, “wonder what could’ve possibly happened.”

*

“I really thought it was going to rain,” Draco mopes where he’s standing at the window. It’s grey outside but it definitely doesn’t look like rain and Draco appears so upset about it that Hermione actually feels badly, even though she’s quite glad for the clear weather. 

“Just shut the curtains,” Ron suggests from his place on the floor. He’s sorting through Harry’s collection of VHS tapes, trying to decide on a good Halloween movie. Not that he’s ever seen any of them, and Hermione suspects he’ll end up choosing whichever cover he likes best.

“It’s not the same!” Draco wails. “The thunder and lightning is all part of it, you uncultured pillock! The atmosphere is all wrong.”

“It’ll be just as good when we shut off all the lights and draw the curtains,” she assures him, but it doesn’t remove the look of disappointment from his face. It’s a pouty sort of thing that echoes the brattiness of his youth; she imagines a five-or-six-year-old Draco giving his parents similar looks when he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

 At that moment the front door opens and Harry walks in carrying two grocery bags, one of which contains alcohol, which Hermione can tell by the way the plastic is bulging around the cans.

“The fuck are you all doing here?” he says by way of greeting.

“You said eight o’clock, fuckhead,” Ron tells him without looking up. “But it’s fine, I’ve had time to pick a film and Malfoy’s had time to moan about the weather.”

“What’s wrong with the weather?”

“I wanted a storm!”

At that exact moment, a flash of lightning lights up the sky behind Harry where he hasn’t even closed the door yet. Seconds later a downpour begins, and then there’s a rolling crash of thunder.

Hermione’s eyes widen and once more she finds Ron’s gaze, who looks about as shocked as she feels. Draco, meanwhile, has his hands over his mouth and looks like a child on Christmas morning.

For the first time since his magic had begun picking up on Draco’s wishes and granting them of seemingly its own accord, Hermione sees Harry look suspicious. He peers behind him at the storm suddenly raging outside his house before slowly closing the door. When he turns back he looks directly at Hermione, who looks away quickly.

They set up the food Harry had gotten — all kinds of Halloween-themed sweets — and once everyone has their drinks (“Make mine,” Draco tells Harry, “you do it best”) and is comfortable on the two sofas in the room (Harry and Draco are, as usual, as close to each other as they can get without actually touching) they start the movie: The Thing, which Harry swears is one of the greatest horror films of all time.

Funny thing is, an hour and a half into it she looks over and, with a jolt, realises the two of them are kissing half-covered beneath a blanket. She elbows Ron, who positively beams when he notices.

“Fucking finally, dear sweet Merlin,” he whispers, the sound muffled by the continued rain and thunder. “I nearly hit him upside the head when he made it rain, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shh!” Hermione hisses, though she’s smiling. “They’ll hear you. We’ll rag him about it tomorrow.”

A soft sound of laughter comes from the other sofa that Hermione identifies as Draco’s, and when she risks another peek after a moment she sees that Harry has a hand on Draco’s jaw, and that he’s smiling.

[lovelyghostlyharmony]

how to train your dragon: how you met your dragon

Skrill-

Why did you do this? Are you insane? Just because you really want to train a dragon doesn't mean you let yourself be captured by Berserkers! You idiot! Well, to be fair, you did fly on one - for about a few minutes - then you fell and the Gronckle left you on the spooky island. And why you may ask? Because you didn't create a bond with it! And it was scared! It was a Gronckle! As you were pacing in your cell and waiting for Daggur to show up, a man suddenly broke into the hall. "We need you two outside! Some Whispering Deaths escaped!" And just like that, your guards disappeared.  Well, now you can escape - you only need to figure out how. You looked at the bars, trying to find a weak spot or something, but you didn't find anything. Ugh, if only you had a key!  You defeatedly sat down next to the bars, resting your back against the cold rocky wall. Are you going to die? Are you about to be slaughtered? Pf, you went to find a dragon and now you are going to be its food! This is surely your lucky day. You were just about to rest your head against the bars when you realized, that uncomfortable rocky wall wasn't upright. A little bit of the lower part was missing, making a distance between the wall and one of the metal bars big enough for you to crawl through. That's it! You can escape! You took your chance and began to run. You didn't remember where was the exit, so you just carefully followed your instincts. The very first thirty seconds went great, but then one guard spotted you. Oh no! You ran in a different direction and hide in a room. It was a really weird room, really. There were keys everywhere! Fortunately, the guard didn't think about checking the room, so you were safe... for now.

You looked around, admiring the key room. Well, it saved your life, after all. And apparently, it really liked you, because you spotted another door! You opened it and found dragon cages! There were no guards - they were probably still fighting Whispering Deaths - but there were lots of other dragons. Few Monstrous Nightmares, Deadly Nadders, Gronckles, and at the very back of the room a Skrill. Yes. A Skrill! And not just any Skrill. It was the one that met Hiccup and Toothless. You were in shock at seeing it. Didn't Hiccup set it free? Why is it here? The Skrill is intelligent enough not to be caught! You curiously went to its cage and found out the Skrill was kept in a little pool of water, so it couldn't shoot the lightning. "You poor thing," you said, but the Skrill growled. He looked frightened and hide in the corner, so the only thing you could see were spikes on his head and dark purple color. You badly wanted to touch it, but you knew that it would hurt you. "I will get you out of there!" You run back to the key room and checked all the keys. All of them were marked - and one of them had Skrill word written all over it. "Yes!" you said to yourself. But that was when the guard finally found you. "There you are!" he hissed and went after you. You reacted quickly and run towards the Skrill. He wasn't happy to see you, but when you tried to open his cage, he came out of the darkness and exposed his teeth.  "It's okay. I want to help you," you whispered, but that was the time when the guard caught you. "No!" you yelled and tried to fight back but it was no use. The guard was stronger. You looked back at Skrill, finding him looking back. He wasn't exposing his sharp teeth anymore. He looked as if he was thinking. 'Well, hopefully, he is intelligent enough to see, that I am not his enemy,' you thought. 'Or else, I'll be dead.'  Just as the guard finally realized you're not fighting anymore, he loosed his grip. But that was a bad move for him because you easily slipped out. "Hey!" he roared surprised. But it was too late. You opened the Skrill's cage. You didn't know if you should have been scared or happy, but either way, it was your only chance. He was your only chance.

And he knew that!

That's why he quickly flew out of his pen, taking you by his strong legs, and passed the frightened guard. You just hang there, shielding your eyes from the wind and waiting for the Skrill to find the exit.

Now and there he shot the lightning, but it didn't scare you. You somehow started to trust him. Well, you saved him and now he is saving you - and that's enough to begin to bond with a dragon, right?

After he found his way out of the Berserkers' island, he landed on some rock. "Thank you," you said. He just purred, placing his body right in front of you, watching your every move.

You looked away. "It may sound crazy, but even though people are more afraid of you than of the Night Fury, I don't. I trust you." You reached out your hand towards him, focusing your eyes on the ground. "Do you?"

The Skrill placed his nose against your palm and you smiled.

"Now, what should we call you?" The Skrill looked at you with his big eyes, understanding your every word. Just as you were thinking, he shot his lightning towards the clouds. "Hm, Bolt?"

He didn't complain, so you smiled and scratched his scaly skin. "Bolt it is then. How about I introduced you to my family and feed you some fish?"

As much as Bolt enjoyed the scratching, he licked his mouth and lowered his body, so you could hop on. This was the start of your relationship.

Hideous zippleback-

It was late in the morning and you were just leaving your house. You had a great dream and you were well fed. 'Well, this is going to be a really good day,' you thought. You headed towards the woods and soon found a little cave. It was small as your bedroom and it had this really big opening that kind of looked like a large window.  "Hello," you greeted your two friends, Odias and Hanka. "Here is our sleeper!" said Odias amused, while he was drawing something on the paper. "Why do you always sleep so long? It's almost lunch!" "Gotta get my beauty sleep." You sat down next to Hanka and asked: "What have you guys been doing?" "Playing with Bea," she simply answered and took the little Terrible Terror from the ground. "She is so lovable, isn't she?" You looked at Hanka's bright red dragon and scratch it under the chin. "Yeah, yeah," you agreed, but you haven't sound as enthusiastically as she.  "Why don't you get your own little dragon?" She asked you and smiled at the thought.  "Err, but it's just a Terrible Terror. What's the point of having a dragon, if you can't ride it?" Suddenly, Hanka became angry. She couldn't believe what you just said! She felt insulted. "What's the point of having a dragon, if you're not brave enough to get one!" "What did you just said?!" You two stood up and faced each other. "I am brave!" It was normal for you to have a fight with Hanka. I mean, she has been your close friend since kindergarten and arguing with her was quite normal. "Then prove it!" "Fine!" And without another word, you left the cave. You needed to chill out. The forest was warm at this time of the year so you decided to take a short walk. "Not brave enough," you mumbled under your breath. "I'll show her." After like ten minutes, you found two Terrible Terrors playing with each other. You sat down next to them and they curiously came closer. You scratched one Terror's head and it purred. "You dragons are soo easy to get." You picked one up. "Come on. Let's get you to Hanka." Terrors still thought you are playing so they didn't mind going with you. They looked really happy, but you were so annoyed, you almost didn't see a movement from behind the bush. "Who is there?" you asked out loud while placing the Terror back on the ground. "Hanka?" Is she stalking you? Or is just someone pranking you? "Show yourself!"  The creature came from behind the bush and your eyes opened wide. It was a goldish green Hideous Zippleback with red spikes. Its heads were calmly looking from you to Terrible Terrors. The Hideous Zippleback probably sensed you were a friend to dragons and that's why it came from its hiding place. "Well, you will help me with my 'Hanka problem' just fine," you smiled, forgetting all about two Terrible Terrors. You reached your hand and touched one head. "But maybe I should name you first." You touched another head and scratched it. The Hideous Zippleback liked it and fought for your attention. It was amazing how one dragon can have two personalities.  "How about Vengeance and Revenge? I think it'll suit your next task."  *** "Where are you?!" yelled Hanka. "Look, I am sorry. I shouldn't have said you're not brave!" "Yes!" agreed Odias, yelling as well. "She is an idiot! Now don't be angry! Show up!" They have been searching for you in the forest for the last ten minutes and your amusement just grew. You have been looking at them from the sky (of course, you have been riding Vengeance and Revenge as low as possible for your friends not to see). "Show yourself! Please!" While Hanka yelled, Vengeance quickly showed Odias from the ground and put him onto his neck. He looked shocked but after he saw you, he grew mischievous as well. "Odias! Where are you?!" Vengeance and Revenge hid themselves in the bush and when Hanka turned around they roared.  "W-who is it?" She held her Terrible Terror so tight you had to cover your mouth not to laugh. "Now," you whispered to your new dragon and it jumped from behind the bush. Hanka fell on the ground looking pale as the moon and breathing heavily. You and

Odias burst in laughter, jumping from the dragon. "Got you!" "What?" asked Hanka. "That's my new dragon. Vengeance and Revenge," you said casually. "Still think I am not brave enough?" Hanka stood up - but she didn't look angry nor pale. She just looked sorry. "Ok. I am sorry. You got me." You two smiled. "But seriously, you've got yourself a dragon and named him Vengeance and Revenge just to show me up?!" "Yep." "Well, I should've known." "Wanna ride?"

(had to put that gif there lol)

Razorwhip-

It was that time of the year when Gothi gave you a list of ingredients you needed to find on the Healer's island. You really liked doing it. You had a free day for yourself just collecting flowers and stuff. Who wouldn't want that, really? Every time, you pick some random Gronckle to give you a ride, so you don't have to get to that island on the boat. You really liked Gronckles, but they weren't your type of a dragon. You wanted a strong and fast one. But there wasn't enough time to find you your own dragon, so you just used Gronckles when they were needed.  It was a really great day. Sun was shining, birds were singing and your basket was slowly being filled. At the time you were heading towards the rare yellow flower, you heard a loud sound - as if someone was smashing a piece of metal against another piece of metal. It was weird. As you were wondering what could be possibly making that sound you saw it. A female Razorwhip. From what you could see, it accidentally got its long neck in the rope that was hanging from the tree and when it was trying to broke free, it sliced the tree in half and as the tree fell on top of the dragon, it knocked off one big stone from the rock wall and that stone fell on the dragon's wing, trapping it completely. "Oh my gods!" you exclaimed looking at this mess. You immediately dropped the basket for Gothi and made your way towards the poor Razorwhip. Your steps were slow, but that didn't stop the dragon from being scared. It raised its tail and shot the spines but because of the fallen tree, it was unsuccessful. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you!" You made your way back towards your basket and found a dragon nip you store there for Gronckles. You picked it up and made your way back to the Razorwhip. You didn't get too close, of course, just enough for the dragon to smell the dragon nip. When you saw that the dragon relaxed, you decided to come even closer. And fortunately, the Razorwhip let you. You let her smell the green plant some more, but then you let it fell to the ground so you'd get the dragon's full attention. It was a girl - cause it had really long eyelashes - and her eyes were, unlike Windshears, red. But not bloody red, more like strawberry kind of red.  "Now let me help you," you said while reaching your hand. Razorwhip had to be really intelligent because it pressed its scaly head against your palm, letting you touch it. She probably knew you were her only chance now. After you caressed her smooth metallic grey scales on the head you took insight into her full appearance. Well, you definitely needed some help with that stone on her wing and also with that entire tree, but the loop on her neck could be removed easily straight away. "Now I will take my knife and cut that rope off your neck, okay?" you informed her. "Please don't freak out, I won't hurt you with that knife."

Razorwhip purred, so you carefully took out the knife from your pocket and did as you said. The dragon didn't even flinch. "You're a brave girl, you know?" you said happily because it went so easy. "How about I call you Fearless?" She looked happy since her neck wasn't in the loop anymore so you could tell, she was content. "Now how do I take care of this?" You made your way towards the stone and then the idea hit you. "Wait here I'll get some help!" Fearless roared for you, but you ran away. Soon, you came back - but on a happy green Gronckle. "We'll get that stone away, okay Fearless?" you asked and fly towards it. "Don't worry, it will be over soon!"Gronckle's strong legs lifted that rock up and placed it on the grass. Then you made Gronckle do the same with the tree. It was tough at first, but with Fearless's help, you actually managed to break her free. "That's it!" you yelled happily and quickly made Gronckle land on the ground, so you could hug Fearless. "I told you I'd help you. Is your wing alright?" She raised both of her wings straight up to the air, showing you her strength. You laughed and waved at the leaving Gronckle. "Now, do you want to help me found a yellow flower? After that, we'll get you some sea slugs and you could come home with me back to Berk!" You were really excited about creating a bond with her! But so was she.

[general-yasur]

oh wait we're doing oc rants? oooOO i'm gonna bring up my nextgen kids because i'm too impatient to wait on having the refsheet done aaaaAah! anyway i saw your pixane children sometime back and was like 'i need some of those too o-o'

so i got C.Y.R.I.S, master of wind (pix gets it from morro after she defeats the preeminent in ns11), and Loid, future master of ice. he's not allowed to have his dad's power yet because his parents and granddad messed up his programming. he's basically cryptor 2.0 cause they were building him at borg tower where cry's old backup code accidentally got crossed with his, so that's his character arc lol. anyway him and cyris are red oni, blue oni to each other and fight constantly but they learn to have each other's backs no matter what. also, through plot shenanigans, morro is revived, elemental-less, and part of their team with him often giving cy unsolicited mentorship on wind and butting heads with her brother, usually over their discrepancy in intelligence (loid is unfortunately not very smart, meanwhile morro IS smart and he knows it lmao)

my other sibling group is nyrei, infant daughter of the sea, and her big brothers the lightning twins. don't have names for them yet rip. when nya first returns from the ocean, she's still half water and believes she will be forever. she and jay agree to adopt when they're ready for kids (i'm pretty sure she canonically wants children and jay would totally go for adoption), but soon after they're surprised with nyrei who inherits her mom's power and becomes part ocean herself when she's born (well like nya finds out she's pregnant when she starts losing her powers and turning fully human). a couple years later, jay meets the twins and knows instinctively they're the ones, adopting them immediately, and he passes his power onto them early so he can be equal with nya. they're too young to go on ninja adventures but they take good care of their baby sister~ since jay learns to control wojira's purple lightning during my seabound rewrite, he uses both colors while one twin uses blue and the other purple. when the three sibs get older and combine their powers, chaos ensues lol, like they'll be able to create a giant water avatar that shoots lightning, it'll be great

anyway, i understand this is SUPER het and i apologize if that's not welcome lol >.< the rest of the ninja still hold their powers, most haven't met their life partners yet, and aren't thinking about the whole children thing which are the only OCs i've turned over in my brain at this time. pixane and jaya are just the obligatory straights who either had circumstances or characterization reasons for it, like pix didn't want to be an EM to begin with/zane's had too many close calls/post-seabound jaya having a 'barbossa, marry us!' moment, so it all just kinda works out like this. thank you for enabling everyone, hope it wasn't too long :D

Aye! This is awesome! You definitely have your own canon going on which I can relate! I also LOVE that one of your pixane kids is named Cryis (spelling it differently is a nice touch) in my canon, Pixane’s son goes by “CJ” for Cyrus Julien. Wild how this kid has taken on the names of BOTH the founders of Nindroids. I digress because I could go on and on about their story.

I’m very curious about why you chose the name Loid. And I love the kids dynamic. CJ and Shae have something similar going on where they don’t get along very well (it takes hundreds of years for them to learn 😬).

Also lightning twins?? So cool. I can totally see that happening in canon if Ninjago ever makes it to the next gens.

What’s this I’m hearing about a Seabound rewrite? Inch resting. The concept of Jay learning to control purple lightning is SO COOL. I wonder what the differences are between them. Nya being half water and passing that down to her child is just aaaa. That is such a cool idea and has a lot of angst potential.

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: Embarrassing and Undignified

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

Essek's time in the hot tub goes a little awry.

Wordcount: 3.3k

A/N: Fill for this anon prompt! (i’m so sorry for taking 2+ months to write this... i love Essek so much and he needs more tk content)

---

Essek is no stranger to being - unusual. He often welcomes it, really. Achieving a status such as his for the better part of a century comes with its fair share of eccentricities, his floating among them, and at this point hovering just above the rest of the Dynasty has become something of a favored routine.

And yet, it seems, the Nein have him beaten at every turn.

He had meant to take his leave directly after dinner, unsure of his place among Yasha’s solemn questions of loneliness and Beauregard’s transparent attempts to pry information from him and Jester’s threat to invoke a Zone of Truth for idle gossip -

(and the slight jealousy, he admits, if only to himself, of seeing Caleb, ambitious and focused and loved, among them - )

But. Lonely and friendless he is, as has been quite thoroughly pointed out to him through the evening, and he’s intrigued enough by the rarity of this hot tub to clamber up awkwardly onto the enclosing stone wall and dangle his feet into the water while his hosts bustle around and shuck off various pieces of clothing.

Caleb sits next to him, rolling his own pant legs crisply to the knee and lowering his feet in. “What do you think?”

He looks over - thank the Light, Caleb’s still wearing his shirt. “It’s - nice,” he says. He drags his toe through a slow stream of bubbles rising from what he assumes must be the hottest parts of the depths. “Unfamiliar, but quite impressive that you’ve constructed it on your own.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “The hot tub, or -” He traces a small circle with his index finger, encompassing himself and his companions. “- all of this?”

Decades of court experience well up unbidden on his tongue. “The compliment extends to you either way,” he offers smoothly.

Caleb squints at him, but before he can say anything more the rest of the Nein are joining them with pleased exclamations and a thoroughly distracting amount of splashing. Essek watches, bemused, as Jester flops in belly-first before even unbuckling the last clasp of her outergarments - she wrestles them off, finally, crumpling the dripping green cloak into a ball and flinging it away, and he winces on behalf of the fine Kryn fabric.

She looks around, eyes lighting on him, and her hands fly to her round cheeks with an excited gasp. “Essek! Your legs!”

Startled, he looks down - they seem quite normal, with his boots off and his neatly pressed trousers folded at the knee, if a little more purple than anyone else’s present. “I would prefer to keep my clothes dry, yes.”

She leans in, eyes wide. “Are they re-al?”

Light be with him - she’s hardly said anything, but he struggles not to flush under the scrutiny. “Ah, yes? Why should they not be?”

Just then, something brushes lightly over the sole of his foot - he startles, and -

His seat is well made, certainly, but not enough to stand up to the Nein’s shenanigans; as he recoils, his center of gravity shifts right off the narrow ledge and he’s tumbling backwards before he can do more than blink.

Light, if this is how he dies -

He flails for a solution - it’s been years, at least, since he’s done something so pedestrian as fall, and there are spells for this, certainly, but what he’s prepared for today is more showy fare, in case the Nein asked for a demonstration, why can’t he think -

A hand closes roughly around his bicep, then another around the opposite shoulder, and then he’s dangling from Caleb’s grip with his back nearly parallel to the floor - he reaches out too, panicked, and crumples the front of Caleb’s shirt in a death grip.

“Good reflexes,” he says, breathless. Blood pounds in his ears. Caleb stares down at him, blue eyes wide and jaw tight -

“Ooh, now kiss!” Jester hoots.

The rest of the Nein burst into laughter behind them. Caleb goes bright red and hurriedly turns away, looking over his shoulder. “One of you jokers come here and help me, please,” he chides, strained, “I am not the muscle of this group.”

The tension in Caleb’s face becomes infinitely more explicable - finally capable of rational thought, Essek flicks his fingers and casts a weight-lightening cantrip just as another strong hand latches onto his knee and bodily tows him upright. Yasha nods at him, chest completely bare, and wades back to her corner as Veth pops up from nowhere with her long ears twitching maniacally. “I’m SO sorry,” she screeches, insistent far beyond the point of sincerity. “I brushed against your feet COMPLETELY ON ACCIDENT.”

“VERY ACCIDENTAL,” Jester agrees loudly. Next to her, Fjord winces.

Veth’s voice softens, then, as she pats him gingerly on the leg. “I didn’t think you would do that - are you okay?”

“It’s all right,” he says weakly. Her ears droop in what seems to be genuine relief - it is pointless to care, perhaps, but he feels better for having reassured her.

He sucks in a solid breath for what feels like the first time in minutes and turns to Caleb to thank him. There’s still a guarding hand resting warmly against his back - and worse still, he realizes belatedly that his own hand is still fisted in the buttons of Caleb’s shirt.

He snatches it hastily away, ears burning. “Ah, my apologies. I shall pay closer attention to gravity, for the rest of the night.”

Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

A friendly -

Surprised, he glances over at Jester and finds her wearing a smug expression that might not be out of place on Da’leth himself, if significantly sweeter. “E-ssek,” she wheedles, wide-eyed with delight, drawing every syllable to its maximum extent. “Are your feet like, super ticklish?”

Essek blinks - ticklish? But he hasn’t - really, he can’t remember the last time he might have known. As a child, perhaps, when Verin used to tempt him into playing by tackling him straight off his feet and -

Oh. Oh, dear.

At least that particular piece of evidence is decades out of date - a poor excuse to discard it, but he’s willing to compromise in the face of Jester’s ever-sharpening grin and the traitorously pleased squirm in the pit of his own stomach. “What? No, of course not, I was merely surprised-”

“You can be surprised and ticklish,” Jester corrects, skipping forward with a splash. Essek shirks back into Caleb’s hand, millimeters from tumbling off the ledge again, and she giggles. “And I’m pret-ty sure that you’re both.”

The hot tub, for all of its excellent qualities, is unfortunately not large enough to keep her at bay for longer than that. She reaches out as he’s still deciding which direction would be the best to flee in and scoops his ankle up in a grip like steel. “Ah-” he sputters. “I - Jester, wait-”

She drags a fingernail up the arch of his foot.

It feels like one of the few times while developing a lightning-based spell that he’d electrocuted himself - but the feeling doesn’t stop, shooting up his leg and tickling at his lungs too to make them shiver, and it’s silly, and he just -

He panics, jerks back against Caleb’s hand again, and in a moment of brash stupidity the animal instinct of his brain decides that the only safe place to hide is Caleb himself. He buries his face in Caleb’s side and grabs him around the waist just in time to shriek as Jester repeats the same lazy route up and down the sole of his foot, pausing only to scratch tingling patterns into his heel. “Tickle, tickle! Aw, guys, he’s so ticklish, look at how much he’s laughing!”

The fabric of Caleb’s shirt isn’t much of a barrier to Jester’s teasing - or to his own ticklish laughter, embarrassingly high-pitched and loud in a way that makes his whole face heat with shame - but at least they can’t see him blush.

Caleb jumps a little as Essek latches onto him, but his hand stays put, stabilizing, and starts to rub gentle circles on his back as Essek dissolves into cackling at another spidering assault on his arch. “Jester, please be gentle,” he says, amused. “I am not sure that is a good idea.”

Essek’s not sure how he feels either. It’s terribly embarrassing, and undignified, and if this was happening in front of any other being in the Dynasty he would have to learn some sort of memory erasure spell, but - the Nein have never cared for his layers upon layers of decorum anyway, have they, always prying for indignation and confusion and warmth that he’s not certain he even possesses.

Caught between Jester and Caleb and a vat of hot water, with the rest of the Nein making relatively amused noises behind him, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt warmer.

Jester just laughs. “I’m barely doing anything!” she teases, shaking Essek’s leg lightly. “He’s just so sensitive - oh, Essek, is it ‘cause you never walk anywhere? Is that why your feet are so soft and tickly?”

He’s giddy, even with the sudden reprieve, giggling too hard to speak. “I - ha - I dohon’t - ehe-”

“Of course it is,” Beauregard says smugly from a distance that seems far too close, “waving all those secrets and magic over our heads and he’s hoisted on his own fuckin’ petard-”

“What’s that?” Caduceus asks. Essek vaguely remembers the term to describe some sort of bomb, but Jester chooses that moment to send her mischievous fingers exploring under his fucking toes and it tickles like absolute hell. He shrieks even louder than before, if such a thing were possible, and makes a solid attempt to burrow his way straight into Caleb’s ribcage as his entire leg jolts in involuntary protest. No amount of desperate attempts to flex or curl his foot make the sensation any more bearable - it’s like the sucking feeling of a Teleport spell, like everything inside him is unmoored and floating in a sea of mirth and the only way he can get any of it out is to scream.

His cheeks hurt and he realizes, suddenly, that he’s beaming.

Jester cackles. “Come get his other foot, Beau,” she urges, easing off to just pinch his big toe between two fingers and wiggle it. “He totally loves it, he’s not even kicking-”

“Uh-huh,” Beauregard says, and there’s another splash. “Maybe I will.”

Caleb’s still rubbing his back - he stops, briefly, and from his huddled position Essek feels that Beauregard has jostled his other side on her way past. “His feet might be worse than yours,” she murmurs. He can hear the grin in her voice. “Better hope Jes doesn’t remember and go after you next.”

“Don’t remind her,” Caleb says, strangled. It’s remarkably friendly for Beauregard, though, and Essek is once again caught up in the paradox of this little group - merciless but fiercely protective, reluctant but trusting. It’s hard to be regretful - or wistful, maybe, one of those feelings that twinges in his chest every time he thinks of the Nein nowadays - with Jester tickling her way up the back of his bare calf and cooing over the way it makes him wriggle. But his heart, a traitor to the last, manages. There are so many secrets between them still.

Beauregard seizes his other ankle, hauling it up from the water, and he realizes for one terrible moment that if they were to, say, force him out of hiding and keep tickling, he might be inclined to spill some of them. “Scoot over, Jes,” Beauregard says, and there’s a squeak that, for once in the evening, doesn’t come from him. She chuckles. “Good thing he’s not trying to tickle you back, huh?”

He expects Jester to sputter and redirect her, as he would, but she sounds entirely unconcerned at the prospect. “Oh, Beau, do you want to have a tickle fight? We totally could, after this-”

“No,” she says, not entirely drowning out the little panicked noise that Caleb makes. “Not the kind of wrestling I want to do when half of us aren’t wearing shirts, if you know what I mean-”

“Beau!” Jester shrieks, giggling. Fjord groans loudly from the other side of the hot tub, and Essek, still squirming, is very sure that he’s blushing enough for it to show on the back of his neck, under his high collar. “Who do you want to wrestle with? Is it Yasha-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, moving on.” Beauregard interrupts hastily. There’s a popping noise that takes a second for Essek to place as her cracking her knuckles. “Hey, Essek - you think you’d trade another favor to get us to stop?”

Essek flails for something resembling a complete sentence as Jester’s fingers curl teasingly behind one of his knees. “Nngh - heh-”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She squeezes the back of his other knee, barks out a laugh as he jumps. “Jes, stop messing around, let’s get his feet.”

That makes him kick, but at this point his entire lower half is restrained - all he can do is take one last breath before fingertips are scribbling over both his soles and he’s cackling so forcefully that his laughter peaks into agonized wheezing with each fresh gulp of air. “Hhh - ha - ahahaaaa, hA -”

Caleb shifts a little, bending until one of the strands that always hang stubbornly loose from where he ties his hair back brushes the tip of Essek’s burning ear. Essek shivers. “You can tell them to stop, you know,” he murmurs.

Essek’s almost entirely sure that he’s crying into Caleb’s shirt, tears leaking from squeezed-shut eyes as Beauregard and Jester torment his feet, but Caleb seems - fond, oddly - as he starts to rub his back again. “They’re not trying to be cruel - I believe they’re just excited that you’ve. Ah. Lowered yourself to our level, perhaps.”

And what level is that, Essek wants to ask, suddenly conjuring a mental image of Caleb in the same throes of helpless laughter. But he’s barely capable of that, as he’s currently dying, so he just tightens his grip on Caleb and shakes his head. He can barely even register Jester and Beauregard’s teasing anymore - he doesn’t think he can speak right now without embarrassing himself even more if he tried.

“Fuck, alright,” Fjord says abruptly from somewhere miles away, “I think he’s actually crying now, the Dynasty is going to have our heads if we break him.”

“He wouldn’t let them, he’s our friend,” Jester trills, but she does stop tickling, ghosting a hand up over his heaving shoulders to pat him gently on the head. “His ears are really purple though, like magenta purple, I think he’s blushing.”

For some reason - perhaps because he can finally think - it strikes him, fighting through the warm and pleasantly tingling haze of being touched and gentled back into himself, that as much as the casual label of friend pleases him he cannot afford this kind of vulnerability.

“Or suffocating,” Beauregard says a moment later, dropping his foot unceremoniously back into the water. “Thelyss? You alive in there?”

And, a beat later, when he doesn’t reply - “Are you just, like, smelling Caleb now?”

“Gross,” Veth squawks. “Get him off, get him off!”

Caleb smells quite pleasant, actually, but that’s not the point - his self-awareness is slowly trickling back in as he remembers who and where he is, and what he’s done to the Nein, and now they’ve broken him and he would rather die than look any of them in the eye for the next year.

Caleb pats his back. “Come on, friend, chin up.”

And he’s right, Essek can’t afford to cling to this veneer of comfort any longer - but to his immediate and eternal shame, he whines and nuzzles further into Caleb’s ribs. Just a moment to gather his wits, maybe, and he’ll be able to Misty Step to the front door and don his mantle-

“No? Alright, then - I’ll go to work too, if I have to.”

The hand on his back lifts away and walks itself on two prodding fingers neatly up under Essek’s arm, gently wriggling into the hollow until he can’t bear to keep his arms up any longer. “Nnn, hnn! - eheh, thahat’s - enough, please-”

It’s. It’s not, is the problem - he tries to stir up anger, distaste, but there’s only fear. He would deal with this indignity again, suffer it gladly, even, just to have them speak to him kindly. It’s new, and terrifying, and he needs to think it over alone with a generous glass of wine in his tower.

He shrinks back in on himself, still snickering at the tickling under his arms, and Caleb takes the opportunity to grab him neatly by the shoulders and sit him back up - Essek catches a glimpse of his blue eyes shining with rare merriment and promptly swivels to look away from all of them. No one stops him as he rolls his pant legs down and shoves his feet into his boots, heedless of the damp. He can feel their curious gazes prickle on the back of his neck - shifting into an unconscious competence that’s carried him through many anxieties before, he’s already floating off the ground before he can remind himself otherwise. “I’m going to go now,” he says, rushed, still too terrified to turn his head. “Thank you, I -”

“Essek, wait!” Jester says, confused, and Beau scoffs, and he’s not going to think about how he can recognize their voices without even seeing them, he’s not -

Yasha’s voice, at last, breaks through the hubbub, and it’s only in deference to their conversation before dinner that he pauses to listen.

“Hey,” she says, quiet and certain enough to shake him. “You said that you’re lonely, right?”

The noise fades away. He inches down to the ground with it. “Recently, yes,” he replies, just above a whisper, fighting to keep his voice steady with the enormity of this, this feeling -

“I didn’t say so before,” she continues, perfectly calm, “but it’s a little scary, right? To not be so lonely, anymore.”

Essek says nothing - he knows, without the mantle, that they can all see the slight tremble of his shoulders.

“Go away, then,” she says confidently, and then, hastily, “oh, no, that’s not right -”

“Yasha,” Jester squeaks, horrified, and Essek, to his own surprise, laughs. More of a chuckle, really, but. That’s a relief, after all this.

He can place her roughly in the rightmost corner of the hot tub, turns just enough to catch her heterochromatic gaze in his periphery. Her mouth drops slightly open before she gathers herself. “I just, I meant -” She inhales nervously. “I used to leave all the time, to go do - things - and come back when I was ready. You can do that too, if you want, we won’t mind, as long as you come back. And the tickling - we’re all ticklish, you don’t have to feel bad about it - ah, maybe someone else should say something.”

Caduceus pats her shoulder. “Nah, that was pretty good.”

Essek agrees, despite his better judgment. He rolls his shoulders, forcing them loose. “No, no, that’s - helpful,” he assures, and then, taking a deep breath and praying that his cheeks have cooled, he turns to look at them all. “I am to show you my abode tomorrow, yes?”

Caleb looks extraordinarily stressed. “Ah, you don’t have to, if you would rather-”

Beau punches him in the shoulder harshly enough to make him wince. “Yes.”

“Yes, and breakfast pastries!” Jester cheers, clapping her hands together - he’ll have to talk to his staff tonight.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he says, and spares only a brief smile before casting Misty Step to take him to the door and then again to the street.

He’s not quite ready to lose all his dignity, yet.

[today-only-happens-once]

in dusting cobwebs

word count: 2577

Summary: Grover reunites with Percy and Annabeth following the battle against Gaia. They talk about some things. They don't talk about others. || Percy jolts, realization hitting him sharper than Jason’s lightning. His eyes snap to focus on Grover, his stomach twisting with sudden nausea. “The empathy link.” || Percabeth with a focus on Grover being a good friend. 

Warnings: spoilers for the Heroes of Olympus series; trauma/ptsd; discussion of Tartarus; emotional reunions; running away from problems; some tears/crying; one curse word courtesy Percy Jackson himself.

A/N:  I had this idea rattling around in my brain since finishing Blood of Olympus a few months ago. Just couldn't get the right words in the right order until now. First time writing these characters, so some grace is appreciated. I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

--

Home. He was home.

Percy Jackson takes a deep breath of pine and distant sea air and tries to ignore the way the air is tinged slightly with the scent of copper. He closes his eyes for a moment tries to focus on the things that are familiar. The chatter of campers in the distance. The birds chirping overhead. The rustle of leaves from the light breeze that plays in the branches.

Standing on top of Half-Blood Hill, Percy feels something relax in his shoulders. The tightness in his chest stays, but he’s home and that’s not for nothing, right?

He feels Annabeth’s arm brush his own as a quiet reminder that she’s there beside him, and Percy opens his eyes. He reaches for her hand. Lots of things—lots of people—had been lost. He’s grateful beyond words that despite the odds, he is still standing here at Camp Half-Blood with her. He laces their fingers together, and out of the corner of his eye he swears he sees Annabeth release a breath of something like relief. She grips his hand a little harder.

Percy opens his mouth to say something about how he should go see his mom soon when he’s cut off by a familiar voice tearing through camp.

“PERCY!”

Percy’s head snaps instinctively towards the sound. He sees a blur of orange t-shirt and a flop of curly brown hair before the wind is knocked out of him. Percy staggers back a step before he returns Grover’s hug. The satyr is babbling something too fast for Percy to keep up with or follow.

“Whoa,” Percy says, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, man.”

Grover pulls back a little, but he doesn’t fully let go. His fingers slide down Percy’s short sleeve before digging into Percy’s arms as if he half-expects that the son of the sea god is some kind of illusion. His best friend’s dark eyes flit over Percy several times over, like he’s looking for injuries or something. Grover had always been a worrier, Percy thinks.

The satyr looks older than Percy remembers, and he’s not sure if that’s because it’s been a year since he’s seen him or because of the weary look that lingers in his dark eyes. There’s a crease appearing between Grover’s brows.

“Long time no see, huh?” Percy offers by way of greeting.

Grover’s eyes snap back up to meet Percy’s but there’s something like doubt that lingers in his gaze that brings Percy up short. The satyr looks like he’s about to say something, but then his jaw clicks shut. He glances over at Annabeth, giving her the same several glances over that he’d given Percy.

“You’re back,” Grover says, but his voice sounds strangely high and tight. “I…”

“Grover?” Percy asks, feeling concern knot in his stomach. All the times he and Annabeth had gone off on dangerous quests and come back, Grover had never had this strong of a reaction to their return.

“I thought…” Grover trails off again, then suddenly yanks Percy and Annabeth both into a hug again.

Percy’s mouth twitches with a hint of a smile, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. When Grover releases them, Percy shoots a lightning-fast glance to Annabeth. She hides it well, but there’s the small crease between her brows that betrays that she is just as puzzled and worried as Percy feels.

“Miss us?” Percy says at a flimsy attempt at levity. Grover’s eyes look misty when they meet Percy’s, but he gives him a grin in response.

“You could say that.” He brushes the back of his hand across his eyes. He looks between Percy and Annabeth like he half-expects them to dissolve into smoke. “I didn’t… I mean I…”

Percy’s frown deepens as he cocks an eyebrow at his friend, but Grover averts his gaze and shakes his head quickly. Percy glances at Annabeth, but her eyes grow slightly wide as she looks at Grover, then pained.

“It was my fault,” she says suddenly. “I’m sorry.” Strands of her blonde hair stick to her face from sweat and smears of blood. There’s something earnest in her expression that Percy can’t explain.

Grover’s brow furrows. “Your…? Annabeth, I have a hard time believing that.”

Annabeth shakes her head, adamant. “It was. Arachne’s web got twisted around my ankle and… and it pulled me in, and Percy grabbed me, but—”

Tartarus. There’s a sudden sense of vertigo, and he reaches instinctively for Annabeth’s hand. He grips it, and the contact with her is enough to keep him from feeling like he’s falling into Tartarus again.

“Annabeth,” Grover is saying, but he sounds far away. “Annabeth, that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. I mean, gods, after what you two went through…”

Percy jolts, realization hitting him sharper than Jason’s lightning. His eyes snap to focus on Grover, his stomach twisting with sudden nausea. “The empathy link.”

Grover him a wan smile, and Percy is grateful for the way Annabeth gives his hand a small squeeze.

A faun had mentioned it when he was at Camp Jupiter, but he hadn’t known at the time what he’d been talking about. And once he got is memories back, it’d set off a chain reaction of events that had kept him from thinking too long about it since. But the empathy link… in Tartarus…

Percy swallows. “Shit, Grover. I—” His voice cuts out and he coughs to clear it, shaking his head quickly. “I didn’t even… are you okay?”

Grover stares at him, his eyes starting to get misty again. “You went to Tartarus and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“Yes.”

Grover opens his mouth, then shuts it. He blinks hard and tries again. “I’m just glad to see both of you in one piece.”

It’s not an answer. Percy knows that. It’s avoidance, and gods forgive him but he can’t bring himself to press Grover on the issue. Maybe it’s selfish of him. But he’s finally home—home, gods, it’s been so long—and the last thing he wants to do right now is talk about Tartarus. In the back of his mind, he wonders just how much of Tartarus Grover knows about. If he knows the things Percy’s done…

He doesn’t want to think about it. In fact, the last thing he wants is to deal with the memories of Tartarus that seem to cling to him like they’re in lockstep with his shadow.

“I’d ask you guys if you’re okay but… I think I know that answer,” Grover says when neither Percy nor Annabeth says anything.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. “Hey, we’re here, aren’t we?” Percy offers, and if his hand is shaking just a little, well. He hopes Annabeth doesn’t notice. “Nice to be breathing that fresh camp air.”

Doubt flickers across Grover’s eyes. “Percy—”

“Is Chiron around?”

Grover’s mouth presses into a thin line. Then he sighs, and nods towards the Big House. “Yeah. I think he’s helping Will round up the injured.”

Percy leans over and quickly kisses Annabeth’s cheek. “I’ll go find him. I’ll be back, okay? Promise.”

--

Annabeth watches Percy run towards the Big House, only to be intercepted by Connor Stoll. A part of her wants to follow him, and her fingers twitch with his abrupt absence. She folds her arms across her chest instead.

“You both seem… different,” Grover says quietly. Annabeth glances at him, but he’s also watching Percy at the bottom of the slope. His eyes flicker briefly to Annabeth before returning to Percy. “Not in a bad way,” he adds. “Just… different.”

Annabeth sighs. “Yeah,” she says. “I feel… different.”

She couldn’t explain exactly why or how. Rome clung to her like cobwebs cling to corners. The things she’d seen and done to get to and through the Doors had sharpened her edges in ways that were hard for her to explain, which was extra frustrating as a daughter of Athena. She didn’t feel like the same person who’d left camp on the Argo II, and she wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

They’d made it through the Doors, defeated the giants, defeated Gaia… but it didn’t feel, exactly, like the victory she’d imagined. Annabeth was beginning to think that victory was a hard weight to bear.

“Getting that message to Connor was genius, by the way,” Grover offers. “It saved camp, you know. Both camps, really.”

The corner of Annabeth’s mouth twitches at the compliment. It hadn’t felt like a genius move; it’d felt like a shot in the dark.

Annabeth can feel the stale adrenaline from the battle bleeding out of her, replaced instead by an ache in her bones that makes even standing upright exhausting. She can’t remember the last time she got a decent night’s rest, and it felt like she’d fought her way through a marathon sprint of monsters and giants. She takes a deep breath and sits down on the patch of grass where they’re standing, pulling her knees up.

Grover sits beside her without another word. For a while, neither of them says anything. Annabeth drums her fingers on her elbows as she folds her arms on top of her knees. For the first time in what feels like months, Annabeth pauses.

Campers intermingle with one another while they clean up from the battle. Birds chirp overhead and wind rustles through the leaves in the nearby trees. The Athena Parthenos casts a long shadow that Annabeth must admit, she finds comforting. She watches Percy wave a farewell to Connor, and offers her boyfriend a faint smile when he looks back at her before he disappears around a corner.

Distantly, she can hear the voice of Will Solace bickering with Nico di Angelo and a second later finds both them helping a pair of injured campers limp back to their cabins. She watches the breeze create ripples in the grass around her. For a moment, her eyes flicker skyward as if she might see Leo streaking like a comet through the sky back to camp.

Wishful thinking. Her chest twinges.

Annabeth was tired of missing people. A lifetime ago, she would have given nearly anything to be given a prophecy. Now, she hoped to never hear another prophecy in her life, and especially not one that involved anyone she knew. Annabeth was no stranger to loss, but she was tired of it. She’s… tired in a way that a nap won’t fix. Maybe she should feel grateful that she didn’t lose anyone else, but it seems like an awfully shitty consolation prize.

At least she didn’t lose Percy in Tartarus. Her chest clenches and she shoves the thought into the back corner of her mind.

“I know you guys don’t want to talk about it,” Grover says quietly and Annabeth startles. She’d almost forgotten he was there, and she wonders briefly if he somehow read her mind. “And that’s okay. I can’t say I blame either one of you for that.”

Annabeth averts her gaze when Grover’s own rises to meet hers.

Grover continues anyway. “But Annabeth… you should know that nobody expects you to just be okay after something like that. I only got a vague sense of it secondhand, and it…” His voice wavers, then trails off. He tries again. “Anyway. If you do decide you want to talk about it… either one of you? I’m around.”

“I think Percy is mad at me,” Annabeth blurts out suddenly. It’s stupid, she tells herself. Of all the things they faced… the lingering sense that Percy still hadn’t fully forgiven her for making them leave Bob behind presses at her mind. Maybe Percy’s anger is easier to deal with than everything else that happened there. Maybe it’s harder. Annabeth doesn’t know.

Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth sees Grover’s brows shoot up towards his hairline. “You… why?”

Annabeth tells him. Not about everything—there’s far too much she’s still trying not to think about—but she tells him about Bob, and his sacrifice, and Annabeth’s forcing of Percy’s hand. About abandoning him down there, about how her chest feels tight every time she looks at the stars for too long.

“Percy doesn’t hold that against you,” Grover says, with so much conviction and certainty that it catches Annabeth off guard.

She blinks. “What?”

Grover shakes his head a little. “I… Look, I’m not trying to use the empathy link to like, tell you how Percy feels. I kind of feel like that’s an invasion of Percy’s privacy? But… he’s not angry with you.” Grover sighs, then adds more quietly, “If anything, I think he’s angry with himself.”

Annabeth is quiet. She wants to tell Grover that Percy shouldn’t be angry with himself, but she’d be speaking to the choir. Besides, there’d be a certain hypocrisy in that, wouldn’t there?

She glances at Grover, who watches a group of Greek campers load a Roman camper onto a makeshift stretcher. Grover seems different too, now that Annabeth is looking at him. He seems… older. A little bigger, sure, but… there’s something aged and weary in his eyes that goes past his years. It’s a look that Annabeth knows all too well, when kids too young are forced to shoulder too much.

She understands. Most of the people at camp hadn’t even graduated high school yet and fought in two wars now. Annabeth had only narrowly escaped with her life both times, and she knew she wasn’t alone in that. She’d long ago lost count of how many times she came close to death, of how many times she thought Percy or other friends were dead. She’d lost count of how often her hands shook when she was alone, of how many nightmares had jolted her from sleep.

The regular life of a still-living demigod. She thought of all the people who didn’t make it through. Those who weren’t as lucky as she was.

“I’m glad you’re here, Grover,” she says suddenly.

Grover looks at her in surprise, but offers her a tired smile. “Back at ya, Annabeth.”

“Everything feels different now.”

“Yeah,” Grover agrees with a nod. “But not everything is. You’ll be okay. So will Percy.” Annabeth looks at him, but he just gives her a knowing look.

Annabeth swallows thickly. “How can you be so sure?”

Grover is quiet for a moment, his gaze trailing back out to the hustle and bustle around camp. “Well… Look around, Annabeth. What do you see?”

She looks. She sees Jason with his arm slung around Piper’s shoulder. Connor Stoll wrapping a young camper’s ankle with a bandage. Reyna, Hazel, and Nico cleaning up debris and broken weaponry left behind by the injured and fallen. Jake Mason showing a Roman camper how to use crutches.

“I see my friends and allies,” she says, surprised by the sudden lump in her throat.

Grover nods with a small smile. “Helping each other. Because that’s what we do, and that’s how I know. You and Percy will be okay because you have another, and you’ve got us.” He knocks his shoulder into Annabeth’s. “You’re not alone.”

Annabeth’s voice fails her, her eyes stinging slightly. She blinks quickly and nods.

Grover smiles more and pushes himself to his feet. He dusts his hands off on just shirt and then offers a hand to Annabeth. “Let’s get to helping, yeah?”

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

MC comforting Vinca while she is crying

Pairing with: Can we write mc getting terribly injured and almost dying for vinca? and then emotional vinca❤️

Warning: Mentions of blood.

...

Part 1

Written by @cute-ogre

A warm hand squeezes hers and let it go.

Nico breathes in heavily, inhaling the cold air, the familiar smell of antiseptic, bleach and pine telling her immediately exactly where she was.

The bleary vision soon became more focused and she was able to see the nurse standing by her bedside, checking her vitals and taking fast notes. He smiled when he noticed his patient was awake, making a nervous one-sided chat while waiting for the doctor responsible for her, a cautious looking woman that calmly explained her general state and left her alone after a long check up, noticing her tired state.

She closes her eyes, sighing, exhausted. Her body was weirdly numb and she couldn't quite move yet. Her thoughts  were difficult to grasp, like they were floating in a tick fog, bouncing slowly back into her mind one by one.

Her house was broken in, she was alone. There were shouts, hers, and growls from the way-smarter-than-it- should-be demon.

(Because, yeah, those exist.)

Cold hands trying to get the locket out of hers. The small locket with, apparently, Vinca's soul in it. Vinca couldn't read her mind and apparently that means creepy, stabby demon time.

Light catching in the metal as a pocket knife was pulled, made a shallow, bloody cut in the left side of her head and then sunk into her abdomen.

A piercing scream as she killed it, a mysterious light shooting from her wound like lightning, disintegrating the demon on the spot. The demon needed her blood for something, she thinks, but couldn't remember why or what.

Bloodied hands trying to make a call with no success.

Bandaging the wound with shaky hands, trying to keep the knife firmly in place.

A seven-minutes-long, careful, anxious walk until Vinca's house. Her hands pressing the wound, trying to keep the knife there without damaging her body even more.

Constantly analyzing her own state while looking for new attackers in the dark streets.

(The injury... below the belly button, lateral, probably non-lethal if treated soon by the looks of it. Elevated breath and heart rate with dizziness, so moderate blood loss, maybe?)

Knocking on the taller woman's door frantically, a door opening, wide blue eyes staring at her in shock.

And then everything was blurry.

The sound of the door opening brought Nico's attention back to the present.

"I can't believe she was stabbed! She will have such a cool scar!"

Trudy's voice rings loud and excited, and Vinca's answer is barely a hiss.

"If you don't shut up and back off, I will make sure you'll get one too."

"Really? That would be so badass!"

There's some commotion, a yelp accompanied by hushed whispered yell and then silence.

Someone clears their throat.

"We will go get some clean clothes for her, Laz is already there taking care of her mom. We'll be back soon." Yvette's voice sounds gentle and low, and was received with a low grunt of agreement and a closed door.

Nico's eyes open again, vision bleary for a second before being filled with the familiar big, crazed,blue eyes and messy blonde hair. The Pride assassin's face close enough that she was able to see the small freckles that adorned her -weirdly- make-up free face.

"H-Hi?"

Vinca just stares intensely at her in silence for a awkwardly long time before smirking, poking the small women's cheek.

"Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to wake up! Feeling better, Julius Caesar?"

The dark haired girl blinks, nodding distractedly, her eyes scanning the white hospital room. When she speaks, her voice sounds hoarse and weak.

"Thank you for bringing me here, and I'm sorry, I probably spilled blood all over your nice car."

Vinca's smile appears to waver for a second before she let out a snort, straightening up. "Yeah, your stabbed ass made quite a mess, had to drag you out of the car like a dead corpse. Hope you know that you will be the one cleaning it."

"Hey! It's not my fault I was stabbed!"

"Yes it is, you are the easiest target I have ever seen, you look like the type of person that tries to hold on to the water when you slip on the shower." The blonde shots her a teasing look, seeing the small woman roll her eyes in annoyance, a weak smile on her lips.

"Oh, you can kiss my ass!"

"What ass? You have none, you are flat like the surface of the earth."

She is using humor to cope, like she always does when she feels strong emotions.

Brown eyes stare at Vinca, seeing the model stands up with a tense posture and walk to a table with a jar of water nearby.

"Please tell me you are joking and don't, in fact, believe that the earth is flat."

Like the unbearable brat she is, the blonde woman just shrugs, smirking a little bit before resuming her task, and Nico notices the slight shake of her hands as she pours the water in a plastic cup.

"It may be."

"The- the earth isn't flat."

Nodding slowly, she sits on the bed again, blue eyes twinkling and a soft smile on her lips.

"I know, and neither are you, hotshot." She winks, offering the cup of water, earning a laugh from the bike mechanic. "You should drink it, you lost a disgusting amount of blood."

Nico sighs, before slowly trying to seat up with the taller woman's help.

"Did I pass out? I don't remember anything after knocking on your door."

Smile gone, the tallest Wren sister shakes her head seriously.

"You didn't, but you were definitely confused."

"Oh."

There is a heavy pause with Vinca opening and closing her mouth before clenching her jaw and letting out a  annoyed huff.

"I was really... " She waves her hand in the air and grimaces, like the next words are causing her physical pain "...worried about you, I think."

"Aww, you think?"

It takes all of her strength of will, but Nico manages to hold back a smug smirk, looking up to see the blonde scratch uncomfortably one of  her slightly reddened cheeks.

"I thought you hated me when we first met. Look at us now, progress!"

She bites her lip, holding back a smile, gives the Chinese woman a side-eyed look and sniffs.

"I did. But eh, you grew on me, like a fungus."

I care a lot about you too

Humming, the bike mechanic takes a sip of water, furrowing her brow when she notice the way the mind-reader keeps looking fixedly at her own hands, opening and closing them repeatedly.

"...Vinca? Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine."

The huge bags under her eyes doesn't exactly scream "fine" to Nico, but she decides to finish her water before asking again.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm peachy, why wouldn't I be?" She snatches the empty cup of water, throwing it into the garbage can without even looking at it.

"It's... It's about the locket? Something happened to it?"

"The locket it's fine." The answer is suddenly tense and Nico looks at her dubiously.

"Are you sure? It seemed impor-"

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't care about the fucking locket."

She grits, crossing her arms in annoyance, voice sounding snappy, but she doesn't meet her eyes when she keeps talking.

"And you are a moron. I can't believe you got yourself stabbed for that stupid thing."

The Chinese woman lets out a incredulous laugh, ignoring the way her head hurt a little when she did.

"A locked with you soul in it,detail you forgot to mention by the way! And you told me to take care of it!"

"I said 'Take care of it', not 'get killed protecting it' you dumbass!"

"Yeah, but I didn't die."

"You almost did!" There's a second of silence after the explosion, and when Vinca lifts her eyes they are shining with unshed tears and more vulnerable than Nico has ever seen them.

"It- it was so much blood and I thought that- I thought that you... and for a stupid locket!" Her breath is uneven, her hands moving in the air, wildly, and her eyes start darting to everything in the room besides the injured woman. "I don't care about my fucking soul! I could kick some old demon ass until they turned ash and get the locket back if it was stolen, but what would I do if I lost you?"

"Vinca..."

The dark haired woman stares at her in stunned silence, her body moving forward instinctively to touch her arm when she is hit by a sharp stab of pain, wincing.

The blonde rushes forward grabbing her shoulders and looking at her with wild eyes. A gentle pressure forcing the small woman to sit back.

"Don't worry, I'm fine."

"No. You are hurt."

It's a statement, a statement said with so much anguish that Nico doesn't even know what to do with it.

Long fingers touch delicately the bandage in her head and the sad blue eyes meet hers before learning in to press a soft kiss to her covered forehead earning a perplexed wide eyed stare.

"I'm sorry, you got hurt and I wasn't there to protect your nerd ass."

"Hey..."

The smaller woman mutters, hands cupping Vinca's face, wiping a tear and starting a gentle caress, drawing a shiver out of the woman.

"I'm fine, you are here right now to deck any demon for me, aren't you?"

Vinca smiles weakly and sniffs. "Bitch, you can bet I'm."

"Good. Now come here."

She moves carefully to the side, making a bigger space in the bed. To her surprise the taller woman immediately moves to sit by her side, hiding her face in her neck, inhaling the smell of strawberry shampoo coming from the soft  dark hair and muttering:

"....about the locket."

"What?"

Nico feels a warm tear hit her skin.

"I said I'm-"

She huffs annoyed, grabbing a fistful of the brunette hospital gown.

"I'm sorry about the locket. I gave it to you because I thought that you deserved some part of me that wasn't tainted."

Nico forces herself to be silent, unsure of how to answer and her hands lift to caress soft wild hair earning a sigh from the blonde.

I will talk to her about it later

"I shouldn't have- I put you in danger and I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I'm fine. Let's just... forget about it for a while hm?  But be aware that you will explain how did your soul ended up in a locked in details after I'm out of this hospital."

Nico jabs a accusatory finger, poking at the pride assassin's ribs.

"Whatever you say, girl boss."

Vinca chuckles, nodding and slowly raising her head and looking at the smaller woman with something in her eyes that the bike mechanic couldn't quite place.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

She hesitates for a moment, calculating, before speaking quietly.

"I... I'm just so glad that you are okay."

And something about the way blue eyes never leave brown tells Nico that that's not really what she was going to say at all.

"Me too."

Nico nods, smiling softly at her and seeing the Pride assassin blush and narrow her eyes.

"But if you tell anyone that I cried I'm gonna kick your tiny ass so hard that  you're gonna fly off the planet earth and become a satellite, are we clear?"

"Would you really hurt an injured woman?"

The brown haired girl clutches her chest dramatically, earning a cheeky grin from the blond.

"Have you met me?"

"... Fair point."