#why is it lightning? are my notices charging?
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@staff Change it back.
WHERE IS SHE?


WHERE DID THEY TOOK HER?
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hyper & chill | psh
act 10: stuck for the night



It started with a simple rainstorm.
And then, within an hour, it escalated into a full-blown typhoon.
You and Sunghoon stood by the window of your dorm, watching the heavy rain lash against the glass. The howling wind made the streetlights flicker, and occasional flashes of lightning lit up the dark sky.
Sunghoon sighed, checking his phone. âGuess Iâm not going back to my dorm tonight.â
You turned to him, blinking. âWait, really?â
He nodded, showing you the emergency notice from his dorm security. âTheyâre not letting people in or out until the weather clears up. Roads are flooded too.â
Your eyes widened. So that meantâŠ
âYouâre stuck here?â
Sunghoon exhaled through his nose. âLooks like it.â
Oh.
Oh.
Your heart skipped.
This was fine. Totally fine. Just your boyfriend staying the night for the first time. Nothing weird. Nothing awkward. Just a normal couple thing.
Except⊠it wasnât normal.
Because you and Sunghoon had never spent the night together before.
Sure, youâd had late-night study sessions and hung out until ungodly hours, but youâd never actually slept in the same bed. And now, thanks to Mother Nature, you were about to experience your first night alone together.
You suddenly became very aware of how small your dorm was.
And the fact that you only had one bed.
Sunghoon, being the unbothered person that he was, didnât seem fazed at all. He just tossed his bag onto your chair and plopped down on your bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. You, on the other hand, were internally freaking out.
âUhâshould I get you some clothes to change into?â you asked, your voice higher than usual.
Sunghoon glanced at you, amused. âYeah, thatâd be nice.â
You scrambled to your closet, pulling out an old oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. âHere. They might be a little big.â
Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. âYou think this will be too big for me?â You blinked. Looked at the clothes. Looked at Sunghoon.
Yeah. That was dumb.
Sunghoon smirked. âCute.â
You huffed, shoving the clothes at him. âJust change.â
And thenâwithout warningâhe started pulling off his hoodie.
Your brain short-circuited.
You spun around so fast you nearly tripped. âW-WARN ME NEXT TIME!â
Sunghoon laughed, deep and teasing. âYou act like youâve never seen me shirtless before.â
You had, but not like this. Not in the intimate setting of your dorm room, where it was just the two of you, and the air was charged with something dangerously unfamiliar.
You stayed facing the wall, hyper-aware of the rustling of fabric behind you.
âOkay, done,â Sunghoon said.
You turned cautiouslyâonly to immediately regret it.
Because there he was, standing in your oversized clothes, his hair slightly tousled from changing. The shirt draped over his lean frame, exposing just enough collarbone to make your stomach flip.
Oh, you were so in trouble.
You swallowed. âRight. So. Uh. Where do you wanna sleep?âl
Sunghoon gave you a look. Then glanced at your tiny dorm.
âWhere else?â he said, gesturing at your bed.
Your face heated. âW-We canât both fit on that.â
Sunghoon tilted his head. âYou think Iâm gonna sleep on the floor?â
You opened your mouth. Closed it.
ââŠFine,â you mumbled. âBut stay on your side.â
He smirked. âNo promises.â
You threw a pillow at him.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââ
The tension was unbearable.
You lay stiffly on one side of the bed, while Sunghoon occupied the other, both of you facing opposite directions.
It was silent. Too silent.
Sunghoon sighed. âWhy are you so tense?â
âIâm not tense,â you lied.
He huffed a quiet laugh. âYouâre lying.â
You swallowed. âItâs just⊠new, okay? Us staying together like this.â
Sunghoon shifted slightlyâso slightly that your backs brushed.
Oh god.
Your breath hitched, body going rigid.
Sunghoon mustâve noticed because he turned onto his side. âYouâre seriously this nervous?â
You didnât answer.
A beat of silence passed.
And then, suddenly, you felt itâ
A hand, warm and gentle, slipping around your waist.
Your stomach flipped.
ââŠHoon?â
His voice was softer now, teasing but with a hint of sincerity.
âRelax, babe,â he murmured, his breath tickling your ear. âIâm not gonna do anything.â
Your heart pounded.
You swallowed. âYouâre evil.â
Sunghoon chuckled. âI know.â
His fingers brushed against your stomach, feather-light. Just enough to make your skin tingle.
And thenâ
You turned.
Too fast.
Too close.
Your noses nearly touched.
Sunghoonâs smirk faltered, his eyes darkening slightly as they flickered to your lips.
You sucked in a breath.
ââŠYouâre staring,â you whispered.
Sunghoonâs voice was lower now, huskier. âSo are you.â
Your pulse skyrocketed.
Neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed.
And thenâ
He kissed you.
Soft at first. Careful. Just testing.
But the moment you kissed him back, something shifted.
Sunghoonâs grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him. His lips moved against yours, slow and intoxicating, making your skin burn in the best way possible.
You gasped when his fingers skimmed under the hem of your shirt, his palm resting on the bare skin of your hips.
Sunghoon smirked against your lips. âStill nervous?â
You glared at him, cheeks burning.
And then, to his absolute shock, you flipped him onto his back, straddling his waist.
Sunghoonâs eyes widened slightly. âOh?â
You smirked, leaning down until your lips barely brushed his. âNot anymore.â
Sunghoonâs breath hitched.
For the first time tonight, he was the one caught off guard.
ââŠYouâre dangerous,â he muttered.
You grinned. âI know.â
And with that, you kissed him againâdeeper this time, sending both of you into a dizzying spiral neither of you were prepared for.
taglist: @iboughtnjz @rikidaze @pocketzlocket @jaerisdiction @ijustwannareadstuff20 @doririsstuff @whateveridontcaresheesh
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#hyper&chill#enhypen scenarios#sunghoon scenarios#enhypenwriters#sunghoon x reader#sunghoonfluff#sunghoononeshot#sunghoonxreader#enhypenxreader#park sunghoon fluff#sunghoon fic#enha x reader#sunghoon enhypen#enha scenarios#enha imagines#enha fluff#enha smau#sunghoon fanfic#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon imagines#park sunghoon x reader
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the storm.



a/n: happy (early) birthday to my shining star xian @forlix i love you so much i ache with it. i love this universe you've created and i love your characters and your beautiful, beautiful mc that i'm so happy you've let me play with.
warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, pretty tame for me tbh! many big emotions. wc 2.7k. hurt/comfort sex between two people who love each other.
pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader, she/her!reader, based off of xian's lovely crying lightning (you can read this as a stand alone but why would you? xian's fic is phenomenal. please read it.)

as beautiful and wonderful and kind and patient hyunjin is, itâs hard to forget sometimes that his general presence is still exceptionally infuriating sometimes. the days of your loneliness, before the two of you had finally come together into one woven cord instead of two strings dancing alongside one another, were all but a distant memory. overriding that was the smell of his skin in the morning, the glint in his eye when he catches yours across the cameras and fans, the warm weight of his hand steady on the small of your back, protective and possessive. all you knew now was the cracking of lightning across a stormy sky, raindrops hitting your face in a welcome intrusion to your mundane day to day.Â
the all expanse of the storm did its job well of making you forget that sometimes the raindrops were irritating, too.Â
they came in the form of him opening one eye slowly as you tried to swipe shadow across his lid, upsetting your plan and making you double back once youâve scolded him; the air moving around you as he walks away from you after teasing you one too many times; the sound of his laugh when heâs behind the camera of someone, making eyes at the lens that should have been reserved for you only. each one was a piercing cold drop of water to your face, piercing as they fall and sliding down to form a puddle at your feet.Â
it didnât escape your notice that you werenât upset at him, really; it wasnât his fault that you were spiteful. even thinking the word makes you shiver in disgust - this isnât you. you had never been one to let your feelings affect your actions, you selfishly prided yourself in your ability to compartmentalize, but he had this hold on you that made you experience things you never thought were possible.Â
he, of course, finds the entire show encompassingly amusing. you could see the mirth in his eyes from across the room when he meets yours, recognize your own expression in them like a mirror and it made your scowl deepen in itâs permanence. you almost wish for the time when he didnât know of your affection for him; the surety in his step when he makes you frown is maddening, overshadowed by the smugness he holds in knowing he could make you smile with greater ease. let it be known that you didnât lack in confidence - your spine is stood high, head held with authority and feet planted firmly on the floor. envy wasnât something that ever crawled up your legs like ivy over an ancient grecian statue. jealousy, even, seemed too harsh a sentence for your current charge. to put it simply, you were annoyed.Â
he knows this, of course. he knows you, inside and out, and on your best days itâs a rare gift that you treasure, hidden away in the deepest corners of the closet that is your heart. on your worst days itâs utterly terrifying, the feeling of being laid out to shrivel in the sun with no chance of respite. and wasnât it ironic that the one thing that made you feel this way was the one that cured you too?
itâs with an embarrassing amount of pleasure that you remind yourself that you are the one he goes home with, at the end of the day. youâre cleaning up your station and you hear his laugh in the background, not directed at you but ringing like sweet bells nonetheless. every brush that returns home into your kit, every lip product that gets swiped into a bag, every charcoal pencil is the ticking of time that needs to pass before he is yours again. simply yours, not belonging to the cameras or the managers or the staff whose stare linger on him for longer than they should be allowed to.Â
you knew where your talents were - in your art, your ability to read people, your creativity and your drive for perfection. these uncharted waters were not in your skillset, but as hyunjin stalks across the room to reunite with you after what seemed like hours, you took a moment to be grateful that it seemed to be in his. putting yourself in someone elseâs hands, feeling the level of trust that you had for him, sent a tingle up your spine, but if anyone was going to take care of you it was him; the thought soothes you like a balm, not enough to be permanent but enough to get you by for now.
âmissed me that much?â he crowds into your space to press a light kiss to your hairline, expertly moving his body so that no one could see. âiâve only been shooting for an hour.â
âkeep talking and youâll get shot,â you mutter, ignoring the heat that rises up to your cheeks as you turn from him to gather your things, aching to be home and in his arms and away from prying stares. his heat is still pressed up against your back, standing as close as he could while still letting you move freely. as much as you want to drag him into some secluded hallway and refamiliarise yourself with the taste of his skin, you had to pull out your endless supply of restraint. getting caught with your hand down his pants in a building that you frequented often was not an outcome that you wished to experience, at least not today.Â
his hand is warm on the small of your back as he walks you out a series of doors and stairs to the parking garage, the sound of your shoes bouncing off of the walls a bit jarring.Â
âyou looked nice today,â you tell him, honest, as he slides into the passenger seat of your car. the worn seats smell like his cologne and his old bracelet hangs from the rearview mirror - god, even your car was reminding you of how much of your life he encompassed - not that you were complaining about that.Â
âthat was all you,â pride drips from his voice and you catch his soft gaze when you turn to look behind you so you could back out of your parking spot.Â
âi may have helped, but itâs still your face,â you counter, hand busy on the gear shift, as eager as your heart was to finally get home.Â
âif i didnât know you, i would have thought you were obsessed with me,â he says, the biting tease dripping off his tongue like citrus. âwith the way you were staring at me, back there.â
âiâll make you walk home,â you tighten your grip on the steering wheel despite the threat being empty. he knows which threads to tug on without unraveling you, playing you with his words like it was muscle memory.Â
âyouâd make me walk?â he gasps theatrically, pressing his palm to his chest and fluttering his eyes at you. âwhat if i get kidnapped, or mugged? how would you live with yourself?â
âyouâre an idiot,â you deadpan, cursing the betraying fondness that rises up in you.Â
âyour idiot,â he grins stupidly, settling his hand on your thigh as he watches the streetlights shine across your face as you drive. his touch is scalding, long fingers pressing into your very nerves and leaving them flayed out.Â
âyeah, remember that,â you retort, and you hope he thinks you mean the idiot part.Â
the remainder of the short drive home was spent in comfortable silence, hyunjin tapping away on his phone with his free hand as you speeded down the freeway. when you park you let out a sigh and your keys jangle in melancholy along with you when you take them out of the ignition. hyunjin presses his fingers into your thigh in a final squeeze before he exits the car, long legs carrying him over to your door before you could blink to open it for you.Â
walking up the stairs to your third story apartment never felt more relaxing, the breath they stole from you a necessary tax to pay to enter the comfort of your own walls.Â
you pull him to the bedroom as soon as you walk through the front door, dropping your things in the foyer with as much care as you could muster.Â
it takes you a couple of seconds to push him to sit up against the headboard, a couple more for him to complain about it, and less than that for you to climb into his lap and press a searing kiss to his lips.Â
he opens himself to you, open mouth curved into a smile as you lick into it. you taste the coffee you had made for him this morning, the croissant he had eaten during a break, the gloss that you had carefully dabbed across his plush lips.Â
you want him, no one else could have him. how could you feel this much possessiveness over someone you already hold as yours?
his hands circle your waist and his thumbs press into your skin, holding you against him even as you pull away from him. his lips are left glistening red and he looks up at you with a kind of reverence that you donât think youâll ever get used to.Â
âslow, angel,â he moves his thumbs in slow circles. âiâm not going anywhere.âÂ
âhyune,â you gasp, going lax against him. youâre far too drained to pretend that your entire body didnât ache for him. âneed you.â
âi know,â he shushes you, trailing his fingers up and down your spine. he loves to tease but heâd never do so at your expense; he must sense that your emotional turmoil is bubbling into the direction of a vortex. âyou have me. take what you need, baby.â
the reminder that he was yours, though wholly unneeded, sounds so sweet to your ears. your fingers slide up his chest, twisting into the button at his collar and popping it open with practiced ease. you peel the panels of material off of him to expose his sun-kissed skin, abdominal muscles tensing with how heâs holding back from jerking up into your lap.Â
âwhat does my baby want, hmm?â he says, voice catching when your hands slide over his chest and brush over his nipples. he groans when you roll one between your fingers and the sound of it makes your heart soar.
âi want you to shut up and take your pants off,â you back off of him to rid yourself of your own clothes, folding them into a neat little pile at the foot of the bed. he shows no such care for his own, kicking off his pants and boxers throwing them along with his shirt across the room. his hungry eyes stay on you the whole time, shining with excitement as if it was the first time he was witnessing you undress.
you climb back over him as fast as humanly possible, the feeling of his bare skin against yours like an eternal gift. you grind down against him, his rapidly hardening cock sliding between your folds and his head catching against your clit. youâre wet, of course you are; you have been since his hand was on your thigh on the car ride home you moan and duck your head, a little embarrassed by how affected you are by such a simple motion.
he braces himself on his elbow as other hand moves to your hairline, brushing a few strands back behind your ear on itâs path towards cupping the back of your neck. he moves closer, lips so close to yours that you can almost taste them again, but before they meet youâre feeling the earthâs weight shift and your own balance break.Â
âi want to take care of you,â he explains when you look up at him in a daze, dizzy from how quickly he had flipped you underneath him. âlet me?â
âi thought i told you to shut up,â you were breathless but the permission still rang true under your words. youâd let him do whatever he wanted, how could you deny such a sweet request?
he grins something wicked as one of his hands slides down your chest towards your lower belly. his fingers part your folds easily and you feel so exposed even though he wasnât looking. he decidedly keeps his mouth shut even as whines begin to spill from your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as a familiar burning sensation starts to take over your body.Â
he alternates between rubbing gentle circles into your clit and teasing his fingers at your entrance, so close to dipping inside but not quite. he ducks his head to mouth at your neck, sucking a constellation of marks into your skin until youâre panting into his hair and shaking apart in your orgasm.Â
he gives you a moment to recover, waiting patiently until you open your eyes to see his fond smile aimed at you.Â
âwhatâs that look for?â the snark is completely absent in your voice post-orgasm, and it almost comes out dreamy.Â
âi canât even look at you now?â he breaks his unspoken vow of silence to ask. âi canât help myself. i have the most gorgeous person walking this earth underneath me, looking at you is the tamest thing i can do to you.â
the blood returns to your cheeks as you take in his words. you donât respond because you didnât know how; what could you even say to that? he doesnât seem to mind as he moves impossibly closer to you, leaning a bit of his weight against you. itâs not too much, just enough that you could feel his chest moving with his breaths. he lines his cock up to your entrance, his hips flush against yours as he slowly pushes in.Â
you let out a breath you didnât realize you had been holding when he enters you fully, every inch settling your frustration as it flows out of you along with the air in your lungs. this feeling was worth all of it, the early mornings and the onlookers and the sharing of him when all you wanted to do was lock him away for you and you alone.
he loves you. he was so in love with you that it poured out of his very being, in his gentle touch and the slide of his lips against yours and the slide of his cock against your walls. each drag of his hips sends burning pleasure up your spine, licking flames against your vertebrae until you canât move.Â
youâre so drunk on him that you lose track of time, all of your senses falling away until hyunjin is the only thing you can feel, see, touch. you lose your words, unintelligible syllables trying to shape his name falling from your lips, pressed against the skin of his neck and floating to his ears in a sweet symphony.Â
it isnât long before youâre falling apart underneath him, electricity crackling between you as fucks you through your orgasm. he gathers you in his arms as he tumbles over the edge after you, folding himself over you so he can kiss you, and you donât realize that you were crying until his cheeks come back glistening with salty water.Â
âgod, i love you,â and to this day it still feels like a heavy declaration, the words never diminishing their weight despite the number of times theyâve fallen off of his tongue. âyou are everything to me.â
âhyunjin,â is all you can say, but you know he reads between the curved letters of his name. i love you too, you mean the world to me, what would i be without you.Â
he cares for you like the cracked piece of porcelain that you are, light fingertips tracing along the tear tracks on your cheeks that move to turn you on your side so you could smush yourself into his chest. your hand rests right above his heart, and if you looked close enough you could see the static sparks of electricity that connect the two of you together.Â
#stray kids smut#skz smut#hyunjin smut#hyunjin imagines#straykidsland#stray kids imagines#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin x you
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Hii! I was wondering if you could do Clarisse la rue x reader. Like readers the daughter of Zeus and he gifted her the power that her emotions control the weather?
sorry if this doesnât make any sense lol. Changing it up however youâd like
Stormâs embrace
masterlist pjo masterlist my rules
YN -> your name YLN -> your last name
6,9k words! hope that youâll like it!
Camp Half-Blood buzzed with tension after the news broke: Zeusâs master bolt had been stolen. The gods were furious, and the campers whispered of war brewing on Olympus. Y/N YLN, daughter of Zeus, felt every pair of eyes on her. The unspoken suspicion was heavy, lingering in every corner of camp. As the only child of Zeus currently at Camp Half-Blood, she was an obvious suspect.
Clarisse LaRue made no effort to hide her opinion. âYou know, itâd be convenient if the thief were the one who can summon lightning at will,â she said, crossing her arms during a heated conversation in the training arena.
Y/N glared at her, thunder rumbling faintly in the distance. âYou think Iâd steal my own fatherâs bolt? Get a grip, Clarisse. I donât need his powers to deal with you.â
The campers around them murmured, sensing a confrontation brewing. Clarisse stepped closer, her tone sharp. âMaybe youâre just tired of living in his shadow. Or maybe you donât have as much control as you pretend to.â
The sky darkened, and Y/Nâs hands clenched into fists. âSay that again, LaRue. I dare you.â
Before the situation could escalate further, Chironâs voice boomed from across the field. âEnough!â The centaur strode toward them, his expression stern. âBoth of you, my office. Now.â
In Chironâs office, the atmosphere was tense. Y/N stood by the window, arms crossed, while Clarisse leaned against the wall, still fuming.
âYou two are among the strongest demigods at camp,â Chiron began, his voice calm but firm. âWhich is why Iâm assigning you to the quest to retrieve Zeusâs bolt. The Oracle has spoken, and itâs clear youâll need to work together.â
âWhat?!â both girls exclaimed in unison.
âThis isnât negotiable,â Chiron said, his gaze steady. âThe fate of Olympus depends on this quest. Youâll leave tomorrow morning.â
Y/N groaned, rubbing her temples. âGreat. Babysitting Aresâs favorite brute while trying to save the world. Canât wait.â
Clarisse shot her a glare. âAs if I want to be stuck with a walking thunderstorm. Try not to fry me when you lose your temper, princess.â
Chiron sighed, clearly unamused. âIf you two donât learn to work together, this quest will fail. And if that happens, war between the gods is inevitable.â
That sobered them both. Y/N glanced at Clarisse, her jaw tightening. âFine. Iâll do itâfor Olympus. Not for her.â
Clarisse smirked. âLikewise.â
The next morning, the quest began. Alongside Grover and Annabeth, Y/N and Clarisse set off into the mortal world, tensions high and patience low. Their first stop was a seemingly harmless roadside diner, where their bickering resumed almost immediately.
âYou canât just charge into every situation swinging your spear,â Y/N said, her tone exasperated.
âAnd you canât just summon a storm every time you get moody,â Clarisse shot back, leaning over the table.
Annabeth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. âCan you two save this for later? Weâre supposed to be tracking down leads, not arguing over breakfast.â
Grover nodded, nervously glancing at the sky. âYeah, uh, maybe keep the thunderclouds to a minimum? People are starting to notice.â
Y/N glared at Clarisse but relented, taking a deep breath to calm herself. The sky lightened slightly, and the air felt less charged.
For the rest of the day, they managed to keep their bickering to a minimum, but the tension between them remained. Every glance, every word, felt like a challenge waiting to be met.
That night, as they set up camp by the side of a quiet road, Y/N found herself staring at the stars, lost in thought. She hadnât asked for this quest, or for the pressure of being Zeusâs daughter. She just wanted to prove she was more than the god she came from.
âPenny for your thoughts?â Clarisseâs voice broke through her reverie.
Y/N glanced at her, surprised. âDidnât think you cared.â
Clarisse shrugged, sitting down beside her. âI donât. But if weâre going to survive this, we canât spend the whole time at each otherâs throats.â
Y/N hesitated before nodding. âFair enough.â She glanced at Clarisse. âYouâre not as terrible as I thought.â
Clarisse smirked. âDonât get used to it, princess.â
For the first time, they shared a small, tentative smile. It wasnât peace, but it was a start.
______________________________________________________________________
The morning after their reluctant truce, the group prepared to leave their makeshift campsite. Percy Jackson, who had joined their team at Chironâs insistence, was already up and pacing. The son of Poseidon had his own reasons for being on this quest: proving himself, protecting his friends, and figuring out his connection to the stolen bolt.
âReady to save the world, or are you two gonna keep bickering the whole way?â Percy teased as he adjusted Riptide at his side, glancing between Y/N and Clarisse.
âSave it, Seaweed Brain,â Y/N shot back, rolling her eyes. âUnlike you, some of us actually know how to work under pressure.â
âRight,â Percy quipped with a grin. âBecause yelling at each other is totally productive.â
Clarisse snorted, shouldering her spear. âAt least I donât need a magical pen to fight.â
Annabeth groaned, pulling her Yankees cap lower over her eyes. âCan we all focus? Weâve got a long way to go and not a lot of time.â
The groupâs next stop was an abandoned warehouse where, according to Groverâs tracking, a minor god associated with Hermes might have information on the bolt. The warehouse was quietâtoo quiet.
Inside, the air was thick with tension as they searched for clues. Y/Nâs nerves hummed, her emotions sparking faint static electricity in the air.
âI donât like this,â she muttered, her hand hovering near the dagger she carried at her hip.
âRelax, Princess,â Clarisse said, scanning the room. âNot every empty building is a death trap.â
âI wouldnât speak so soon,â Percy muttered, drawing Riptide as shadows moved in the corners.
The attack was sudden. A group of empousaiâvampire-like creaturesâemerged from the darkness, their glowing eyes fixed on the demigods.
âGreat,â Y/N grumbled, summoning a small bolt of lightning into her hand. âJust what we needed.â
The group fought hard, their teamwork shaky but effective. Y/N and Clarisse found themselves back-to-back at one point, their weapons slicing through the air in perfect sync.
âNot bad,â Clarisse admitted begrudgingly as she slammed the butt of her spear into an empousaâs chest, sending it flying.
âRight back at you,â Y/N replied, the faintest smile on her lips as she hurled a bolt of lightning into another creature.
Percy, not far away, raised an eyebrow at the exchange. âAre you two⊠getting along? Should I be concerned?â
âShut up, Jackson,â they said in unison, making Grover laugh despite the chaos.
Once the fight ended, the group regrouped outside the warehouse. Everyone was exhausted, but the tension between Y/N and Clarisse seemed to have easedâif only slightly.
âYouâre a decent fighter,â Y/N said to Clarisse as they walked side by side toward the road.
Clarisse smirked, twirling her spear. âDonât sound so surprised. Maybe youâre finally realizing Iâm not as bad as you thought.â
âDonât push it,â Y/N shot back, though her tone lacked its usual bite.
Percy watched the exchange with a knowing look, leaning toward Annabeth. âIs it just me, or are those two actually flirting now?â
Annabeth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. âPercy, not everything is about romance. Focus.â
As night fell, the group set up camp again, this time in a quiet forest clearing. The stars were bright, and the crackling of the campfire filled the silence.
Y/N sat slightly apart from the group, staring up at the sky. Her emotions had been running high all day, and she needed a moment to clear her mind.
Clarisse, after some hesitation, walked over and plopped down beside her. âYou good?â
Y/N blinked, surprised by the question. âYeah. Why?â
Clarisse shrugged, poking the fire with a stick. âYouâve been quiet. Itâs weird. Usually, youâre all lightning and sass.â
Y/N smirked. âLightning and sass? Thatâs a new one.â
Clarisse rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. âWhatever. Just⊠donât lose your head, okay? We need you to keep it together.â
There was an unexpected softness in her voice that caught Y/N off guard. For a moment, she saw past the tough exterior to the person underneath.
âIâll try,â Y/N said quietly. âThanks, Clarisse.â
Clarisse glanced at her, her smirk returning. âDonât mention it. Seriously, donât. Iâve got a reputation to uphold.â
Y/N laughed, and the sound was warm and genuine, making Clarisseâs chest tighten just a little.
From across the fire, Percy and Annabeth exchanged looks. Percy leaned closer to Grover, whispering, âIâm calling it now. Those two are totally into each other.â
Grover nodded sagely. âOh, 100%. The tension is electric.â
Annabeth groaned again. âFocus, boys. Weâve got bigger problems.â
______________________________________________________________________
The groupâs journey led them into the heart of the desert, chasing the latest lead on Zeusâs stolen bolt. The Oracleâs prophecy was vague, but Annabethâs sharp mind and Groverâs tracking skills had pointed them toward a small, seemingly abandoned roadside gas station.
The heat was unbearable, the sun blazing overhead, and tensions ran high as the group bickered over their next move.
âIâm telling you, this place screams trap,â Percy said, squinting at the gas station.
Annabeth rolled her eyes. âEverything screams trap to you.â
âThatâs because it usually is!â Percy shot back.
While the two argued, Y/N stood to the side, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The oppressive heat made her emotions sluggish, but she could feel a storm brewing in the back of her mind. Something about this place felt off.
Clarisse walked over, breaking the silence. âYou zoning out again, Thunder Girl? We donât have time for you to daydream.â
Y/N sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. âIâm not zoning out. Iâm trying to figure out why this place feels so⊠wrong.â
Clarisse raised an eyebrow, her grip tightening on her spear. âYour gut telling you something?â
âSomething like that,â Y/N admitted, glancing at her. âYou trust me on this?â
Clarisse hesitated, then gave a small nod. âYeah. Youâve been right so far.â
The unexpected admission caught Y/N off guard, and for a moment, she forgot the heat, the quest, and the danger.
âThanks,â she said softly.
Clarisse shrugged, looking away. âDonât get used to it.â
The group cautiously entered the gas station, weapons at the ready. Inside, the air was stale, and the fluorescent lights flickered ominously. It didnât take long for the trap to springâtwo monstrous automatons emerged from hidden panels, their glowing eyes locking onto the demigods.
âOf course,â Percy muttered, drawing Riptide.
The battle was chaotic. Annabeth and Grover worked to disable the machinesâ weak points while Percy engaged one head-on. Y/N and Clarisse, naturally, ended up back-to-back again, their movements almost instinctively in sync.
âLeft!â Clarisse shouted as one of the automatons lunged. Y/N reacted instantly, sending a bolt of lightning crackling through its metal body.
âNice call,â Y/N said, a grin tugging at her lips as the machine collapsed in a smoking heap.
âKeep your head in the game, YLN,â Clarisse replied, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness.
The second automaton charged at them, forcing Clarisse to parry with her spear while Y/N summoned a gust of wind to throw it off balance. Together, they overwhelmed it, Clarisse delivering the final blow with a triumphant yell.
When the dust settled, Percy clapped his hands together. âWell, that was fun. Can we not do that again?â
Annabeth ignored him, crouching to examine the remains of the automatons. âThese were definitely sent by someone. They werenât random.â
âGreat,â Clarisse muttered, wiping sweat from her brow. âMore people trying to kill us. Just what we needed.â
âWelcome to the club,â Y/N said with a smirk.
Clarisse glanced at her, and for a moment, the tension between them softened.
Later that evening, the group set up camp in a nearby canyon. The desert sky was breathtaking, stars scattered like diamonds across a velvet backdrop. Y/N sat by the campfire, absently tracing patterns in the dirt while the others talked quietly nearby.
Clarisse approached, dropping down beside her without a word.
âYou keep sneaking up on me,â Y/N said, glancing at her with a small smile.
Clarisse smirked, leaning her spear against her shoulder. âNot my fault youâre easy to sneak up on.â
Y/N rolled her eyes but didnât argue. For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the crackling fire filling the space between them.
âYou were good back there,â Clarisse said suddenly, her tone uncharacteristically soft.
Y/N blinked, surprised. âWhat?â
Clarisse looked away, fidgeting with the edge of her armor. âI said you were good. Donât make me repeat it.â
Y/Nâs lips curved into a grin. âIs this your way of being nice?â
âDonât push it,â Clarisse muttered, though her cheeks reddened faintly.
Y/N chuckled, her heart lighter than it had been in days. âThanks, Clarisse. You werenât too bad yourself.â
Clarisse smirked, her confidence returning. âOf course not. Iâm always amazing.â
Their laughter drew curious glances from the others, but neither of them seemed to care. For the first time, the storm between them felt less like a battle and more like the calm before something new.
______________________________________________________________________
The group continued their journey, now following a lead from Annabeth that pointed them toward a forest on the outskirts of a small town. The air was thick with tension as they trudged through the dense underbrush. Despite their shared victories, the groupâs patience was wearing thin after days of close quarters and constant danger.
For Y/N and Clarisse, the fragile truce they had formed was starting to feel less like a reluctant necessity and more like a natural rhythm. But neither of them dared to voice itâespecially not with Percyâs constant teasing.
âLet me guess,â Percy quipped as they stopped for a break. âY/N and Clarisse were totally in sync during the last fight again? Should we just start calling you the Storm and Spear Duo?â
Y/N groaned, tossing a small pebble at him. âDonât you have better things to do, Percy?â
Clarisse snorted, crossing her arms. âIgnore him. Heâs just jealous weâre better fighters.â
âIâm right here, you know,â Percy replied, feigning offense.
Annabeth stepped between them, exasperated. âCan we focus? Thereâs something weird about this forest.â
As if on cue, a deep growl echoed through the trees, sending a chill down Y/Nâs spine. The group immediately drew their weapons, forming a defensive circle.
âWhat now?â Grover whimpered, clutching his reed pipes.
Out of the shadows emerged a massive drakon, its scales shimmering ominously in the dappled light. The creature roared, its golden eyes locking onto the demigods.
âOkay, this oneâs mine,â Clarisse said, stepping forward with her spear raised.
âNot alone, itâs not,â Y/N replied, summoning a crackling orb of lightning in her hand.
âGreat,â Percy muttered. âMore teamwork.â
The battle was intense, the drakonâs sheer size and strength making it a formidable opponent. Clarisse fought fearlessly, her spear striking true, while Y/Nâs lightning crackled through the air, disorienting the creature.
At one point, the drakon lunged toward Clarisse, its jaws snapping dangerously close. Without thinking, Y/N threw herself in front of her, summoning a massive bolt of lightning that sent the creature reeling.
Clarisse stared at her, wide-eyed. âWhat the Hades was that?â
âSaving your life, obviouslyâ Y/N shot back, though her voice was breathless from exertion.
Clarisse smirked, regaining her composure. âDonât get used to being my hero, Thunder Girl.â
âNoted,â Y/N replied with a grin, their gazes locking for a split second longer than necessary.
With Percy and Annabethâs help, they managed to bring the drakon down. As it dissolved into golden dust, the group slumped against nearby trees, exhausted but triumphant.
That evening, as the group rested in a small clearing, the atmosphere was lighter than it had been in days. Percy and Grover played a clumsy game of hacky sack with a pinecone, while Annabeth sketched battle strategies in the dirt.
Y/N sat apart from the others, her back against a tree, gazing up at the stars. The adrenaline from the fight still buzzed faintly in her veins, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Clarisse.
âDeep in thought again?â Clarisseâs voice broke through the quiet.
Y/N turned to see her approaching, spear resting casually against her shoulder.
âStarting to think youâre stalking me,â Y/N teased, earning a smirk from the daughter of Ares.
âNot my style,â Clarisse replied, sitting down beside her. âBut youâve got a habit of wandering off into your own head.â
âJust thinking,â Y/N said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. âAbout the fight. About⊠everything.â
Clarisse tilted her head, studying her. âYouâre not bad in a fight. For a daughter of Zeus, I mean.â
Y/N snorted. âThanks, I think.â
There was a beat of silence before Clarisse added, almost hesitantly, âAnd⊠thanks for earlier. For stepping in like that.â
Y/N smiled softly. âYouâd do the same for me.â
Clarisse hesitated, then nodded. âYeah. I would.â
For a moment, the air between them felt charged, not with tension but with something deeper. Before either of them could say anything more, Percyâs voice cut through the quiet.
âHey, lovebirds!â he called, grinning. âAre you gonna help with dinner, or should we assume youâre too busy having a moment?â
Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. âIâm going to kill him.â
Clarisse laughed, standing up and offering her hand. âCome on, Thunder Girl. Letâs get back before he decides to make it worse.â
Y/N took her hand, and as their fingers briefly touched, a small spark passed between themâwhether from her powers or something else, neither of them could say.
______________________________________________________________________
The journey grew more perilous as the group approached their next destinationâan ancient temple hidden deep in a swamp. According to Annabeth, it housed an artifact that could point them closer to the lightning boltâs location. The air was thick with humidity, and the murky waters seemed to ripple with unseen dangers.
âGreat,â Percy muttered, poking at the swampy ground with his sword. âAnother creepy location. Why canât quests ever take us to, like, a beach or something?â
âStop whining, Jackson,â Clarisse snapped, adjusting her armor. âYouâre not the one carrying a spear through a swamp.â
âYeah, because carrying a magical pen is so much harder,â Y/N quipped, earning a chuckle from Clarisse.
âNice one, Thunder Girl,â Clarisse said with a smirk, making Percy roll his eyes.
Groverâs ears twitched as he scanned the area nervously. âUh, guys? Can we not taunt the swamp? Iâm pretty sure somethingâs watching us.â
The group immediately tensed, weapons ready, as ripples spread across the water. A massive swamp serpent emerged, its scales glistening like oil and its fangs bared.
âBecause, of course, thereâs a monster,â Annabeth muttered, readying her knife.
The fight was brutal. The serpent was fast, its body coiling and striking with terrifying precision. Percyâs water abilities gave him an edge, but the creature was relentless.
Y/N and Clarisse once again found themselves working as a team. Y/N summoned gusts of wind and bolts of lightning, forcing the serpent to rear back, while Clarisse struck at its exposed underbelly with her spear.
âKeep it distracted!â Clarisse shouted, narrowly dodging a strike from the serpentâs tail.
âIâm trying!â Y/N replied, hurling another bolt of lightning. The creature roared, the electricity momentarily stunning it.
Clarisse took the opportunity to lunge forward, driving her spear into the serpentâs throat. It let out a final, ear-splitting screech before collapsing into the swamp, its body dissolving into mist.
Panting, Y/N and Clarisse stood side by side, their weapons lowered.
âNot bad,â Clarisse said, giving Y/N a once-over. âYouâre getting better at this.â
âThanks,â Y/N replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. âYou werenât too shabby yourself.â
Percy, pulling himself out of the water, groaned. âCan we all agree that swamps are the worst?â
âAgreedâ Annabeth said, wringing out her damp clothes.
That evening, the group set up camp on drier ground. The swamp was eerily quiet now, and the only sounds were the crackling fire and the distant chirping of insects.
Y/N sat near the fire, tending to a few scratches sheâd gotten during the fight. Clarisse approached, carrying a small pouch of ambrosia.
âHere,â she said, tossing it to Y/N. âYou look like you need it.â
âThanks,â Y/N said, catching it and unwrapping a small piece of the godly food. âIâm surprised youâre being so nice.â
âDonât get used to itâ Clarisse replied with a smirk, sitting down beside her.
Y/N chuckled, the tension of the day easing slightly. âYou know, we make a pretty good team.â
Clarisse raised an eyebrow. âYeah? Does that mean youâre finally admitting Iâm not the worst?â
âDonât push itâ Y/N said, grinning.
Clarisse laughed, her usual tough exterior softening for a moment. âYouâre not so bad yourself, Thunder Girl.â
Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the rest of the world faded away. The crackling fire reflected in Clarisseâs dark eyes, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.
Before either of them could say anything, Percyâs voice broke the silence.
âYou two getting all cozy again?â he called, his tone teasing.
Clarisse groaned, throwing a small rock in his direction. âShut up, Jackson!â
Annabeth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. âCan we focus for five minutes without someone starting something?â
As the night deepened, the group took turns keeping watch. During her shift, Y/N found herself staring up at the stars, her mind racing with everything that had happened.
She didnât hear Clarisse approach until the other girl sat down beside her, her presence grounding Y/Nâs scattered thoughts.
âCanât sleep?â Clarisse asked, her voice unusually soft.
âSomething like that,â Y/N replied, glancing at her. âWhat about you?â
âCouldnât either,â Clarisse admitted, her gaze fixed on the horizon. âToo much going on in my head.â
Y/N hesitated before speaking. âYou ever feel like⊠this whole quest is testing us more than itâs supposed to?â
Clarisse snorted. âEvery damn day. But thatâs what we do, right? Prove weâre tougher than whatever the gods throw at us.â
Y/N nodded, a faint smile on her lips. âI guess so.â
They sat in silence for a while, the night air cool against their skin. Y/N felt a strange sense of peace, even amidst the chaos of their journey.
âThanks for having my back todayâ Clarisse said suddenly, her tone serious.
Y/N looked at her, surprised. âYou donât have to thank me for that. Weâre a team.â
Clarisseâs lips quirked into a small smile. âYeah. We are.â
For a moment, it felt like Clarisse might say more, but the words hung unspoken between them. Instead, she reached out and gave Y/Nâs shoulder a quick squeeze before standing up.
âGet some rest,â she said, her usual edge creeping back into her voice. âWeâve got a long day tomorrow.â
Y/N watched her walk away, her heart a mix of emotions she wasnât ready to untangle.
______________________________________________________________________
The final leg of their journey was in sight. After days of battling monsters, navigating treacherous lands, and dealing with their own personal struggles, the group had finally arrived at the Underworldâs entrance.
But something was off. Y/N could feel itâthe tension in the air, the sense of impending doom that seemed to press against her chest like an invisible weight. Clarisse, too, had grown more quiet over the past few days, her sharp eyes constantly scanning their surroundings, as if waiting for somethingâor someoneâto strike.
As the group made their way deeper into the dark, ominous caves, Annabethâs voice cut through the silence. âIt doesnât make sense,â she muttered, glancing at Y/N. âIf Hades didnât take the bolt, who would? And why would they want it?â
Y/Nâs heart skipped a beat. She knew the answer to that question, though she didnât want to believe it.
âI donât know,â Y/N replied, voice tight. âBut weâre getting closer.â
Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the shadows. Y/Nâs breath caught as she recognized him immediatelyâLuke.
âYou,â Percy said, his voice low, laced with fury. âYouâre the one who took it.â
Luke smirked, his eyes cold. âI didnât take anything. Iâm just⊠helping the gods fulfill their prophecy. Donât you see? Youâre all just pawns in their game. Iâm doing what they couldnât.â
The tension was palpable, a storm of anger and betrayal swirling in the air. Clarisse stepped forward, her expression dark with suspicion. âWhy are you really here, Luke? You were supposed to be one of us. You promised to fight for the gods, not against them.â
Lukeâs eyes flickered with something almost like regret, but it was quickly masked by a cynical grin. âI realized the truth a long time ago. The gods donât care about us. They use us until weâre no longer useful.â
Y/Nâs heart sank, but she stood tall, her emotions churning. âSo youâre willing to risk everythingâeveryoneâjust to make a point?â
Lukeâs eyes met hers, and in that moment, the storm that raged inside of Y/N erupted. She summoned the power of the skies, a crackling bolt of lightning striking from her fingertips.
But Luke was faster. With a quick, almost mocking motion, he deflected the bolt with a wave of his hand, sending it spiraling off into the cavern.
âYou think you can beat me?â Luke sneered. âYouâre nothing but a weak little demigod.â
Before Y/N could react, Luke lunged at her, his hands crackling with dark energy. He struck out, slamming her into the cave wall with a force that sent a shockwave through her body. She gasped as pain shot through her chest, her ribs screaming in protest.
Clarisseâs voice rang out, sharp and furious. âGet away from her!â
But Luke wasnât done. He sent a blast of energy toward Clarisse, knocking her back. Y/Nâs vision blurred as she struggled to stand, but the pain in her ribs and arm was unbearable. Her arm hung limply at her side, and she could feel the bone grinding against itself.
Luke turned back to Y/N, a cruel smirk on his face. âWhatâs the matter, Thunder Girl? Canât handle the heat?â
With a force that surprised even her, Y/N summoned the last of her strength, calling on a surge of lightning that cracked the air around her. The bolt shot toward Luke, but before it could hit him, he deflected it with a dark shield of energy.
âIs that the best you can do?â Luke mocked. âYouâre pathetic.â
But before he could make another move, a sudden, enraged shout cut through the chaos.
âNo!â Clarisse cried, charging at Luke with all the fury of a storm. Her spear gleamed in the dim light as she swung it at Luke, narrowly missing his chest. But Luke dodged, and with a swift motion, he sent a blast of dark energy straight at Clarisse.
Y/Nâs heart dropped. She wasnât about to let that happen.
With every ounce of strength she had left, Y/N reached out, using the power of the storm to summon a massive bolt of lightning that struck Luke square in the chest. The force of it sent him flying back, his body crashing against the cavern walls with a sickening thud.
Y/N collapsed to the ground, the world spinning around her. Her arm was broken, and she could feel the sharp, agonizing pain of her ribs. Blood dripped down her face from a deep gash on her forehead. She was barely conscious, her vision fading in and out.
Clarisse rushed to her side, her face pale with panic. âY/N? Y/N, stay with me. Come on, talk to me!â
Y/Nâs voice was barely above a whisper. âIâm⊠fine.â
Clarisseâs hands shook as she examined her wounds, her expression torn with fear and helplessness. âYouâre not fine. Youâre hurt⊠so badly.â
Y/N managed a weak smile, her breath ragged. âItâs just a scratch.â
Clarisseâs eyes filled with emotion. âDonât joke, Y/N. You couldâve⊠couldâve died!â
âIâm⊠still here,â Y/N whispered, reaching out with her good arm to grip Clarisseâs hand. âIâm not going anywhere.â
But Clarisse wasnât listening. Her jaw clenched, her hands shaking with barely controlled rage. âIâm going to make him pay. I swear to the gods, Luke will regret this.â
Y/N barely had the energy to protest, her body shutting down as the pain began to overwhelm her. âClarisse⊠I just⊠need to rest⊠pleaseâŠâ
Clarisseâs expression softened for a moment, her hand gently brushing Y/Nâs hair away from her face. âDonât you dare give up on me, Y/N. Weâre in this together.â
Despite her best efforts, Y/N couldnât hold on any longer. As the darkness crept in, she could feel Clarisseâs hand still tightly gripping hers, a lifeline that kept her tethered to the world.
When Y/N awoke, the first thing she saw was Clarisse, sitting by her side, her face a mix of exhaustion and relief.
âHey,â Clarisse whispered, her voice hoarse. âYou scared the hell out of me.â
Y/N smiled weakly. âIâm⊠sorry.â
Clarisse shook her head, brushing a stray lock of hair from Y/Nâs face. âNo. Donât apologize. Iâm just glad youâre still here.â
The group had managed to escape the Underworld with the lightning bolt, and Luke was goneâvanished for now. But the cost had been high, and Y/Nâs wounds were far from healed.
Clarisse stayed by her side as the group made their way back, and the storm that had once raged inside them both seemed to have calmed, replaced by a quiet understandingâa bond that had been forged in the fires of battle.
They werenât just surviving anymore. They were stronger, together.
______________________________________________________________________
The journey back to Camp Half-Blood had been tense. Y/N was still recovering from her injuriesâher broken arm in a sling, ribs wrapped tightly, and a few stitches from the gash across her forehead. Yet, the mission wasnât over. She had one final task to complete: to return the stolen lightning bolt to her father, Zeus.
The moment they arrived at the camp, Clarisse was by her side, her fierce protectiveness evident in her every movement. Even though the rest of the group was exhausted and covered in dirt and blood from their encounter with Luke, Clarisseâs gaze never wavered from Y/N.
âY/N, youâre not going to the gods like this,â Clarisse said, her voice low but firm. She was standing beside Y/N as they prepared for the trip to Olympus. âYouâre still hurt.â
Y/N, who had been sitting quietly by the campfire, glanced up at her with a tired but determined expression. âClarisse, I have to do this. I can handle it.â
âYouâre injured!â Clarisseâs voice rose slightly, her frustration clear. âWhat if something happens to you? You can barely stand up without wincing, and you want to go face your fatherâalone?â
Y/N stood up, wincing from the pain in her ribs but not letting it show. âIâm not some fragile little thing that needs constant babysitting, Clarisse.â Her voice was sharp, though there was no malice behind it. âIâm a big girl, okay? Iâll be fine.â
Clarisseâs eyes flashed with hurt, and for a moment, she said nothing. Y/N turned away, her heart pounding in her chest. She understood why Clarisse was so worried. After all, Clarisse had been by her side through every battle, every near-death experience. But this? This was something she had to do on her own.
âI donât care how strong you are, Y/N,â Clarisse finally said, her voice quieter but no less intense. âI canât just sit here and let you go alone. I⊠I care about you. More than you probably even realize.â
Y/Nâs breath caught in her throat at the admission. She turned back to face Clarisse, her eyes searching her face for any sign of insincerity, but there was none.
âClarisseâŠâ
Before she could say anything else, Clarisse closed the distance between them, her movements swift and sure. In one fluid motion, she cupped Y/Nâs face in her hands and kissed herâsoft, urgent, and all-consuming.
Y/Nâs world tilted as the kiss deepened, her body pressing instinctively closer to Clarisseâs. It was everything Y/N hadnât realized she wantedâa surge of heat and tenderness all at once. It was more than just a kiss. It was a promise.
When they pulled away, both of them were breathing heavily, their faces flushed. Clarisse rested her forehead against Y/Nâs, their noses almost touching.
âYou think you can do this alone?â Clarisse whispered, her voice hushed, but full of an emotion Y/N couldnât ignore. âYou think I can just stand by and watch you risk your life?â
Y/N smiled softly, her heart fluttering. âClarisse, I donât need saving. Iâm strong. But I donât mind if you want to be by my side.â
Clarisse chuckled, the tension easing between them. âIâll be by your side,â she said quietly. âBut youâre not doing this alone, Y/N. I care about you too much.â
Y/N reached up, brushing a strand of hair from Clarisseâs face, her heart swelling with affection. âI care about you, too. But Iâm going. Whether you like it or not.â
Clarisse sighed, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. âFine. But Iâm going with you. Youâre not getting rid of me that easily.â
Y/N shook her head in mock exasperation, though the warmth in her chest was undeniable. âYouâre impossible.â
âOnly when Iâm fighting for whatâs mine,â Clarisse retorted, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
As they made their way to the entrance of Camp Half-Blood, preparing to head to Olympus, Y/N couldnât help but feel a surge of gratitude. Despite everything that had happenedâdespite the dangers, the pain, and the uncertaintyâshe wasnât facing it alone. Clarisse was with her, and in that moment, it felt like nothing could tear them apart.
The journey to Olympus was a blur, the sounds of the mortal world fading as they ascended to the realm of the gods. Y/N stood before the throne of Zeus, Clarisse at her side, and she could feel the weight of her fatherâs gaze upon her.
âDaughter,â Zeus said, his voice booming, âyou have done well to retrieve my bolt.â
Y/N stood tall, despite her injuries, and offered her father the stolen bolt. âIt was a team effort,â she said, glancing at Clarisse with a small, knowing smile.
Zeus nodded, though his gaze flickered briefly to Clarisse. âIt seems you have gained not just the power of the storm, but the strength of loyalty and trust.â He paused, a faint smirk crossing his face. âAnd perhaps a little more.â
Y/Nâs cheeks flushed, but she didnât look away from her fatherâs piercing eyes. âIâll always stand by my friends and my family. No matter what.â
Clarisse stepped forward, her posture proud. âAnd Iâll always be here, no matter what happens next.â
Zeusâs expression softened, though he didnât offer much more than a knowing nod. âVery well. Youâve proven yourself worthy. You may go.â
As they turned to leave, Y/N glanced at Clarisse, her heart swelling with affection. She didnât need Zeusâs approval to know what she had found in Clarisse was real.
They walked side by side as they descended from Olympus, Y/Nâs arm around Clarisseâs shoulders as they made their way back to the mortal world. There was still much to do, many dangers yet to face. But for now, with the storm of their emotions finally settled, they walked togetherâstrong, and ready for whatever came next.
______________________________________________________________________
The days that followed their return from Olympus were filled with a quiet sense of relief and rest. Y/N was still healing from her injuries, her broken arm in a cast and her ribs slowly mending with the help of the campâs healer, but there was something more significant happening as wellâher relationship with Clarisse was growing, shifting from quiet moments of tension to an open, loving bond.
Clarisse, ever the fierce warrior, had softened in ways that Y/N had never expected. She stayed by Y/Nâs side constantly, her presence a comforting constant. Whether they were in the infirmary or walking around the camp, Clarisse was always there, her hand always finding its way to Y/Nâsâprotective, possessive, and gentle all at once.
One afternoon, after another long session with the healer, Y/N was sitting by the fire, the warmth of the flames kissing her skin as she leaned against the stone wall. Clarisse sat beside her, watching over her like a hawk, always making sure Y/N was comfortable, always offering a hand to help when needed.
âYou know,â Y/N said softly, her gaze fixed on the fire, âI never thought Iâd end up like thisâinjured, resting, relying on others to help me.â
Clarisse nudged her gently with her shoulder, her lips curving into a teasing smile. âYouâve always been a bit too independent for your own good. Maybe this is a lesson in letting others take care of you for once.â
Y/N grinned, glancing at her. âI suppose I can get used to it, as long as youâre the one taking care of me.â
Clarisseâs eyes softened, and she leaned in, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Y/Nâs ear. âOf course. Iâll always be here, Y/N. Always.â
The words were simple, but they carried a depth that made Y/Nâs heart swell. She reached up, gently pulling Clarisse into a kiss, slow and tender, savoring the closeness between them. It wasnât a kiss filled with urgency or desireâit was the kind of kiss that spoke volumes without needing words. It was about the trust they had built, the understanding that they were in this together, no matter what came next.
As they pulled away, Y/N rested her forehead against Clarisseâs, both of them breathing softly in the quiet of the night. âYou really donât have to stay with me all the time, you know.â
Clarisse chuckled, her thumb brushing across Y/Nâs knuckles. âIâm not going anywhere. If anything, youâll have to chase me away.â
Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering in her chest. âI think Iâm okay with that.â
Clarisseâs grin grew wider, a playful glint in her eyes. âYou better be. Because Iâm not leaving your side.â
Days turned into weeks, and Y/Nâs healing progressed. She was no longer confined to bedrest, though she still moved cautiously, her body not quite back to its usual strength. But each step she took, Clarisse was thereâoffering her a hand when needed, walking beside her through the camp as they shared quiet moments, stolen kisses, and laughter.
One afternoon, after Y/N had finished a light training session with Percy and Annabeth, she found herself sitting in a secluded part of the camp, watching the sunset. Clarisse joined her soon after, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her waist.
âI canât believe we made it through all of that,â Y/N said, her voice soft but full of gratitude. âWe actually survived.â
Clarisse kissed the top of her head, her lips lingering there. âWe did more than survive, Y/N. We made it through together. Thatâs what matters.â
Y/N leaned into her, resting her head on Clarisseâs shoulder as they watched the sky turn shades of orange and pink. It was peaceful hereâfar away from the chaos of the quest, the battles, and the dangers they had faced.
âI donât know what I wouldâve done without you,â Y/N murmured, her fingers tracing the outline of Clarisseâs hand.
Clarisse chuckled softly. âYouâd have probably gotten yourself into even more trouble.â
Y/N looked up at her, meeting her eyes. âYouâre probably right. But I think Iâd always want you by my side, no matter what.â
Clarisseâs expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss Y/N againâthis time a little more passionately. As they pulled apart, Clarisseâs eyes held a quiet intensity. âYouâve always had me, Y/N. No matter what happens next, Iâm here. For good.â
Y/N smiled, her heart swelling in her chest. âThen letâs face everything together, Clarisse.â
They sat there for a long time, watching the sunset, wrapped in each otherâs arms. The journey had been difficultâthere had been pain, loss, and betrayal. But now, with Clarisse by her side, Y/N knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together.
Their love, like the storm within Y/N, had been testedâbut now it was calm, steady, and unwavering. And for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt truly at peace.
#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson#disney+#percy jackson and the Olympians x reader#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue
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You roll like thunder when you come crashing in | Luke Castellan



Pairing: Luke Castellan x female zeus!reader.
Summary: Luke gets injured during capture the flag and you go crazy, it forces you to confront your feelings (Angst+fluff).
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: injury, loss of blood, use of y/n, female pronouns used to describe reader, ig this is ooc Luke, pre-tlt. Not beta'd we die like men, english isn't my first language, etc.
A/N: This is my first ever time publishing anything I've written so pease tell me what you think!
Luke feels like heâs been struck by lightning the first time he sees you. He is sitting down beside Thaliaâs tree, talking to her absentmindedly, when he hears the most gut-wrenching scream he has ever heard. He sees you stumbling up the hill, covered in blood and dirt. You are holding up the body of your satyr protector, who struggles to walk. Catching up to you alarmingly quickly is one of the most terrifying monsters Luke has seen in a long time. You seem determined to keep running, even as your protector attempts desperately to get you to leave her behind. Luke knows he shouldnât, but as he watches you give up trying to run away and prepare to fight, he wants to step outside of camp limits and help you. It seems like you donât need his help, though, as you pull out a dagger from the back of your cargo pants and charge against the monster. Luke unfreezes then, calling out for the campers who can hear him to go âfind Chiron!â When he looks back at you, youâre finishing the monster off. He forgets every protocol and safety rule when he sees you stumbling, sprinting towards you and catching you just in time before you pass out on his arms.
The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you are not in your room, or anywhere you recognize. Youâre also not outside, the view of the sky that had become usual to you covered by a wooden ceiling. You sit up and look around, no one seems to be there, and when you look out the window you realize that it is probably because it is already dark outside. This must be the camp your protector was talking about, you realize. They are not very good at welcoming newcomers, it seems. Once you find a mirror to check that you donât look crazy you decide to go outside to try to find someone who can confirm where you are, and hopefully help you settle in. When the wind hits your skin for the first time, you feel a chill run down your spine, you wonder how long you were unconscious for. You follow the voices you can hear singing to a plain terrain. A huge campfire lights up the place, teenagers and kids of all ages congregate around it singing, talking, laughing and eating sâmores. They are all wearing matching orange t-shirts. They look like a cult, you think, and the thought makes you giggle. That seems to pull somebodyâs attention, and before you can realize whatâs happening, there is a quiet murmur going around and everyone is looking at you. You freeze, suddenly feeling like you are crashing a party you were not invited to. Youâre about to turn around and run when a boy with dark brown curly hair and a mischievous smile runs up to you. He couldnât be older than sixteen, but something about him makes him look as if he is in charge.
âYouâre finally awakeâ He whispers with a sigh.
âSorry, I really donât mean to be rude but do I know you? Also, where am I? And Why is everyone staring at me? Itâs a little creepyâ
He laughs openly, turning around to stare the rest of the kids down.
âEveryone, go back to your own conversations, there is nothing to see hereâ Itâs a little crazy that he thinks itâs gonna work, but itâs even more crazy that it works, and everyone turns around within seconds. He extends his right hand towards you âIâm Luke Castellan, welcome to Camp Half-Blood.â
ây/nâ you say, still shocked by his obvious power and shaking his hand. âSo, this is the place Leela was talking about.â
You look around, Lukeâs eyes fixated on you. Leela was your satyr protector, you met her only a couple weeks before arriving at camp. He is still looking at you when your eyes finally find him again.
âIt is. The safe haven for demigods. How much do you know about Greek mythology?â
âA fair bit, the same about Camp Half-Blood, is that how you called it? Iâm curious and thereâs a lot of awkward silences when youâre traveling across the countryâ she jokes. âI know about the idea of camp, and about the cabins, the godly parent⊠When will I get claimed? Leela never told me that.â
The smile immediately drops off his face, an awkward grimace taking its place. He looks around, as if trying to find an excuse to run away. He comes back to the conversation empty handed.
It has been a year since you had arrived at Camp Half-Blood. You had found your place, in more ways than one. You were surprisingly good at sword-fighting, archery and Greek, and you had made many wonderful friends. But still, something was missing. You hadnât been claimed. And because you had never met either of your parents, you couldnât even rule out half of the options. You had tried everything, from becoming the best at every activity, to giving the most generous offers, but nothing seemed to work. Luke, who had become your best friend, was pulling his hair out in frustration. In your behalf, because how dare the gods ignore someone as wonderful and kind as you, but also in his because no matter how much he knew he loved you and wanted to be with you, he could not make a move without the fear that Hermes might claim you someday. His dad was not the most reliable of fathers. So he went about his life pretending he wasnât dying inside to be able to kiss the sadness away from your face. The same sadness that was overwhelmingly present as you got yourselves and your team ready for capture the flag.
âOkayâ he said as he clapped his hands to get the attention of the rest of the kids, knowing expanding your winning streak would be the easiest way to make you feel at least a little bit better. âEveryone knows what theyâre doing? Good, if you donât, go see Annabeth right now. Blue team, this victory is ours!â
The kids scatter as he walks back up to you. Youâre fiddling with your armor, visibly frustrated. He lets you continue to try on your own until you groan in desperation. He takes the strap from you and buckles it himself.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asks next, his voice soft.
âTodayâs the anniversary of when I first got to campâ you whisper. âAnd I know, I know that people wait for longer, that some never get to know who it is but I canât help feeling this way. Iâve tried everything, itâs not fair.â
Lukeâs heart breaks hearing you talk about your godly parent, the one person who is supposed to take care of you. But that is how the Gods work, they only care about themselves. He promises then, that heâll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. For now, he pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around your body and placing his chin on your head. You pull apart as the bell that signals the start of the game rings through the forest.Â
âIâll see you after our win?â
âDefinitely.â The smile on his face stays as he picks up his shield, running away from you.
He turns around right before you lose sight of him, giving you a military salute with his sword, pulling a giggle out of your mouth. You have been tasked with watch-out duty. You are a decoy, pretending to guard the flag so the kids in the other team come after you. Youâre a good enough sword fighter to keep them entertained for a while on your own. You are bored for a while, until a group of three young Ares kids surrounds you. They are inexperienced and eager to prove themselves which makes them reckless. You could fight them off easily, and get them on their way, but you know that part of your mission is to stall them so you do your best to not give them your best moves. Youâve been sparring for a little bit when something throws you off. Someone is screaming your name. Through the forest you can see a little girl running towards you. Annabeth looks like sheâs crying, which is enough to worry you, Annabeth never cries. The Ares kids try to use the distraction to attack, but you dodge their hits, quickly disarming them before running towards the girl screaming your name.
âY/n! Come quickly! Itâs Luke!â
He is the first thing your eyes lay on when you get to the clear Annabeth has led you to. He is on the floor, unconscious, his face covered in blood. You fall to your knees next to his body. Your hands are shaking, aching to do something, anything. There is not much you can do. You havenât prayed in a while, having given up, but now, as you tear apart your t-shirt to cover the wound and stop the bleeding, and yell at the younger kids to âgo find Chiron!â you beg any God that will listen to not let you lose your best friend. Someone touches your shoulder, whispering that you should move away. Youâve never felt this much rage. How dare someone tell you to walk away, to leave Lukeâs side in this moment.
âGet off me!â You don't recognize your own voice as the scream leaves your mouth.
You realize slightly too late that the voice telling you to move was Chiron, but as you turn to apologize you are left speechless. The floor where Chiron had been standing just seconds before was completely burnt. When you look up, you realize why. There, shining above your head, was a lightning bolt.
âZeusâ Chiron said, his voice solemn, as the campers who had gathered to see what had happened, kneeled. âEnergymaker, King of Gods, Father of Men. Hail, Y/n Y/l/n, Daughter of the Sky God.
You sit outside the back door of the infirmary for three days, unwilling to talk to anyone. For almost all campers, youâve disappeared. They wonât let you see Luke, the Apollo kids take turns trying to convince you to go to your Cabin and get some sleep. You refuse. That's a new development, you have a Cabin now. A place where you belong, forever, not a temporary solution, or a rest stop, a place of your own. But the thought of walking into an empty, eerily silent mock of a home has you wanting to crawl out of your skin. Youâve become so used to sleeping through the noise of the Hermes Cabinâs campers you doubt youâll be able to sleep on your own. And what are you going to do without being able to walk two steps and lay in Lukeâs bed? Luke, who is currently unconscious inside the infirmary. Luke, who for some stupid reason you are not allowed to see. Luke, who is the reason why you havenât even processed that you have been claimed. You have been claimed by Zeus no less. The king of the Gods, one of the Big Three. You canât think of the implications, not when your best friend is battling between life and death so close to you, yet out of reach. You play with the food Annabeth had brought you, trying to forget the worry in her face as she tried to get you to say something. You know that Luke would have wanted you to move, take care of her and all the other campers, but you can't. He canât be disappointed when he is unconscious. Still, you try your best, nodding at her words so she knows youâre listening. The door opens as you give up eating for the night. Mark, the Head Counselor of the Apollo Cabin looks down at you. He motions you to follow him with his head and you do so wordlessly. You donât know what to think, and then you see him. He is sitting down, his back propped up with a pillow. He has bandages covering his reopened scar, and he gives you a sad smile when he finally spots you. You freeze for a second, unable to believe your eyes, before running and launching yourself towards him.
âIâm going to kill youâ you say through the tears streaming down your face, hiding in the crook of his neck. âIâm not hurting you, am I?â
You try to pull away but his arms stop you. You feel him shake his head.
âDonât you dare, Iâm fine.â
âI thought you were dead. I thoughtâŠâ
âIâm ok⊠Iâm ok now.â
âI got claimed.â You spit out suddenly, which makes Luke pull back, looking at you with wide eyes, a silent question in his face. âZeusâ
You can see his expression turn mournful as he remembers his old best friend. Youâve heard about Thalia, the quiet resentment you held for the girl who had undoubtedly held Lukeâs heart had once made you feel terribly guilty. Now, you feel a sort of kin with her you had never felt before. You wish she was still here. You can see in Lukeâs eyes he feels the same way.
âDaughter of the king of the Godsâ he says finally, trying to be upbeat. âWhat a power trip. Hope it doesnât get to your head. Howâs the empty cabin? Much easier to sleep I hope?â
âI donât know. I havenât been there yetâ you breathe in and out. âI couldnât leave you. The thought of anything happening to youâŠâ
âY/nâŠâ
âNo, let me finish. I need to get this off my chest.âÂ
Alone with yourself for the past three days, you had had a lot of time to think. That is all you had done. Think about yourself, and your dad and your friends and the danger all of you were under just for being born. But mostly, you thought about Luke. And how he was the only person you felt truly comfortable with. And how you had this weird, guilt-inducing dislike of Thalia, not because she wasnât good, you had never met her, but because she had Luke before you ever did, and you couldnât stand it.
âIâve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days,â you finally breathe out. âAnd I have come to a couple realizations. Luke, I'm in love with you.â
It comes out of your mouth like a shot, unplanned and unbridled. You donât know how you had planned to say it, but it was not like this.
âYouâre what?â too embarrassed to look him in the eye, you shift your gaze to your lap.
âIâm in love with you. I donât know how it happened, and I honestly don't know why Iâm telling you. I guess watching you almost die made me realize lifeâs too short to keep secrets. You donât have to say anything at all, but I love you.â
Heâs already looking at you when you finally look up, his eyes wide, his mouth open. Nobody says anything for a couple of seconds. You search your brain for a joke, something to say to dispel the tension. You shouldnât have said anything. You shouldâve just kept it to yourself. Before you can continue further down your spiral he finally breaks his trance, pulling you towards him from the front of your ripped t-shirt and kissing you. Your lips move against his almost instinctively, and you canât think of anything thatâs not the taste of his tongue when it finally makes its way to your mouth, or the weight of his hands that have now shifted to your waist. You pull away when both of you need to breathe, but he doesnât let you get very far.
âI love you too. Iâve loved you from the first day I met you. Iâve always known, you are it for me. I love you.â
At a loss for what to say, you kiss him again. Your hands cradle his face before moving to his curls. You kiss each other as if trying to convey the magnitude, the finality, of your feelings for each other. Luke is right. This is it, for both of you, You have finally found your person. Everything else is background noise from that point forward. You donât care that the Gods are unfair and neglectful, or that you were born to a world destined to kill you. As long as you have Luke, you know itâll be alright.
#Annie writes#Annie writes Luke#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#percy jackson#luke pjo#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x y/n#percy jackson fanfiction#pjo series#pjo fanfic#luke x reader#luke castellan fanfic
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Still thinking about last night

âNo, no, but seriously,â you start, adjusting on your seat, âit wasnât that bad. At least not by the end. I felt like we had-â a connection, that you managed to see him as he was for at least the brittlest of moments. But the sentence dies at the tip of your tongue. You prefer to keep that to yourself. pairing: tim drake x reader tags: stalking, average tim behavior, college student reader word count: 1.7k part 2 of Unraveling the World read part 1 here
âDo you look up all your girlfriends?â
Tim doesnât like the insinuation, but he shoulders on because Barbaraâs network is far more extensive than his, far more even than the Batcaveâs, and this is a favour, after all.
Your face is on full display, a shot from your ID, taking up the main screen on Oracleâs setup. You donât look very happy.
Your hair is longer than when he met you the other night, and he sees the fading of some sort of dye on the tips of your hair. 20 years old, born and raised in Gotham, there is nothing outstanding about you.
âSheâs not my girlfriend,â he replies as an afterthought, his eyes on the screens. You enrolled in GU last year, took up journalism as a major. Why would a college student live in a warehouse?Â
Because it has to be a warehouse, why else would it have been called like that in the files?
The incident that led him to your apartment is still something that embarrasses him. A mistake on his part, something that shouldnât have happened.
He keeps going over the details, trying to understand; it was just the criminal of the week, a robbery gone wrong at a jewelry shop, hostages that shouldnât have been there. He had been sneaky, gotten inside before anyone noticed, and released the hostages in record time (which was good, because when they started shooting, Tim was the only one inside). But one of the rogues got on the defensive when they saw he was one of the bats, had gotten a hit on Timâs ear, and broken his comms. Then a shot in the darkness and a sharp pain took over his senses.
Which one was the lesser evil, running away to seek shelter while he was still lucid? Or detaining the rogues but risking further injury?
The final matter came down to âwhat would Bruce do?â
So Tim had pushed through, managed to knock them out, cuffed them somewhere the police would find them, and left before anyone else could see him.
The sky was raging, as expected of Gotham, when he stepped foot on the rooftops outside. His breathing was ragged, the pain was excruciating and he had left the Red Bird at the cave.
It only crashed down on Tim as the thunder and lightning erupted around him, shivering and in pain. Once the adrenaline left, it hit all at once-
He was alone.
It only took a second for the gears to kick in. He couldnât access the Batcomputer, or call anyone who could help. He could take care of it without them, but where would he go? Leslieâs clinic was on the other side of the city, and after retiring it had fallen under new management, would whoever was i charge still treat vigilantes? There were no warehouses around the area either, not ones he remembered anyway, and the longer he thought, the more he started to fear bleeding out in the streets.
What other things did he have access to offline? His suit had prior saves of data, backup files from years prior. Tim accessed them with shaky hands.Â
As he thought, not many places to go to in the area, but there was somewhere marked as a safe place. Somewhere that wasnât Bruceâs but that was listed as Bat equipped. He headed there with desperation clawing at his throat, pain drilling at the back of his eyelids.
But he didnât find what he was expecting. Instead, there was you and a mundane house. Somewhere that looked lived in, rather than a closet stuffed with expensive tech and medical equipment.
He realized too late, that the information was outdated, that he was going to die from a mistake.
Except he didnât. Except you were there.
And he wants to figure it out, what kind of sane person could possibly do what you had done? He wants to figure you out.
âShe isnât shady,â Barbara supplies unhelpfully. She starts looking over your school records, your extracurriculars, you studied at the same school he did, nothing out of the ordinary; A book club, perfectly good grades, no problems with teachers or classmates. Thereâs an internship registered under your name at one of Gothamâs local newspapers, and there, a few articles on topics like battok trends or the latest celebrity scandal. The few lines he skims read uninspired.
The only thing Tim finds unusual is paperwork from the year before, for a cat you had adopted.
âI didnât see any pets.â At least not when he was there. His allergies would have started making him sneeze like a madman otherwise. But what could he possibly get from that?
Youâre perfectly ordinary, so ordinary Tim canât possibly figure out why youâd be living full-time in a Batman safehouse.
And itâs driving him crazy.
Barbara hums, saying your name, and then, she says your second surname, your motherâs maiden name, âThompkins?â
âThought it was common,â Tim shrugs because he hadnât taken notice of the detail during his first research. Barbara sends him a pointed look.
âWho was the safehouse registered under?â Itâs a simple question, Tim realizes his slip-up on the next beat.
âIs she related to Leslie Thompkins?âÂ
âGrandniece looks more like,â Barbara supplies, pulling up your motherâs birth certificate. She digs up an old picture, a younger Leslie posing next to a smiling blonde woman, who holding up a med school diploma. Seems like your mother followed in her footsteps.
âThe warehouse is registered under her name,â Barbara supplies, pulling up a scan of the apartmentâs deed. Leslie Thompkins is clearly written as the owner. It must have been a safehouse for her, and subsequently for Batman, a long time ago. All before you took over. âYou satisfied now?â
Tim says nothing at that, gnawing at his lip.
From the screen, your picture stares back.
âŠ
âIt was freaking scary.â You complain over your instant noodles. But theyâre too hot and they scald, making you hiss. Your friend stares at you from across the table.
âRight.â
None of your high school peers stuck with you after graduation, so your list of friends remains painfully empty. And it would be a name shorter, had Claudia not appeared into your life.
You met during your internship, where she was interning too, at the literature department of the magazine. Youâre both close in age and enjoy reading classics, so you spend lunch breaks together and bond over trash-talking your coworkers. Sheâs one of the few people you talk to in an otherwise silent existence. And sheâs quite funny, too.
âIt feels like one of those trashy romance novels, right?â She gestures openly, a sandwich in her hand. Youâve been telling her about your encounter with Red Robin for a lack of anything else. Itâs the only interesting thing thatâs happened to you in a while. ââThe superhero crashed at my place! And oh no, heâs naked!â.â
You snort, slapping her arm, âhe was not naked! And it wasnât romantic at all! I was so scared Iâd throw up all over him from the stress!â
She chokes on a piece of ham, then starts to laugh. You start laughing too.Â
Itâs a relief having Claudia to make it all sound less scary.
Her laughing stops when her phone beeps and she pulls it out. Meanwhile, you choose to entertain yourself with your food.
âIs it that twitter account?â You ask half curiously. She hums in response, not looking up from the screen.
âSeems like bird boy hasnât been seen in a while,â Claudia scrolls down her feed as she talks, quickly liking posts or replying to comments. She runs a popular fan account in her spare time that revolves around Gotham vigilantes, which is not a niche topic. Â Most of the accounts themed around the bats, much like Claudia herself, are not native to Gotham. Rather, theyâre from Metropolis or San Francisco, where the public regularly sees Superman or the Titans. Gothamites donât have that kind of relationship with their heroes. âRed Robinâs been out of the streets since last Friday.â
âI guess that means youâre not lying,â she says teasing, which makes you blow a raspberry, âhow did you do it, though? I would have messed up so bad.â
âEh,â you start halfheartedly, âI took pre-med classes all through high school. Iâve forgotten most of it, though, but what little I knew came in handy,â you shrug, leaning back against your chair, âhe had some pretty useful stuff, too. Super fancy equipment. That definitely helped.â
âAnyone else would have tried seeing under his mask, and youâre telling me what stuck out to you was his equipment?â Claudia laughs. âMaybe your next article will be about the batsâ tools. Does Batman carry around bat-bandaids? What about bat-snacks?â
You choke on your food, pushing down a laugh. It would be better than the stuff youâve been writing about for these past few months, anyway. There are only so many influencers you can interview without going crazy.
âNo, no, but seriously,â you start, Â adjusting on your seat, âit wasnât that bad. At least not by the end. I felt like we had-â a connection, that you managed to see him as he was for at least the brittlest of moments. But the sentence dies at the tip of your tongue. You prefer to keep that to yourself.
âHe was your favorite, you said, no?â Claudia catches on and continues, âIâd be just like you if Nightwing crashed into my apartment too.â
Youâre about to retaliate, because-
Because what happened was not without meaning. You had realized he was more than an ephemeral figure or a distant idol, something as tangible as you, and that had made you stop fearing, for better or for worse.
But your boss peeks his head around the corner and takes sight of you both. âYour break is over,â he says and stands in the doorway as he watches you tidy up and throw empty containers and coffee cups into the bin.
Just as youâre leaving you catch something by the corner of your eye. On the TV is a fuzzy image of something humanoid, vaguely red and black.Â
Wherever you go, the shadow of Red Robin follows.
#tim drake x reader#tim drake#batman#red robin x reader#tim drake imagine#red robin imagine#dc comics imagine#batfam x reader#batfam imagine#batfam x you#tim drake x you#red robin x you#tim drake x y/n#red robin x y/n#dc comics x reader#dc comics x you#batfam x y/n#tim drake one shot
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Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version



summary: After a long battle and especially hard research, the Avengers finally found the Winter Soldier. To keep everyone safe, they keep him locked in their HQ. In semi-freedom but especially in a trance, Bucky Barnes attracts the attention of the young boy in charge of taking care of him during his stay here.
notes: I prefer to specify it, the temporality is not exactly respected. Let's say that all this takes place just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
â ïž warnings: mentions of heavy trauma related to the war and the Hydra projects, a form of depressed!Bucky, violence, weapons, incomprehension of transidentity without transphobia, mentions of suicidal thoughts.
English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3
- 2nd person description
- 5 371 words
french version here
You were the little protégé of the group, he had quickly noticed. Even if Natasha didn't have superpowers or a robotic suit either, she was part of the team. She and Clint were kind of the superhumans of the group, with superhuman abilities but nothing that surpassed Thor's lightning or Hulk's muscles. Then, there was you, a fairly normal little human with no particular specificities. High intelligence, extreme kindness and an adorable smile. But no mastery of martial arts. You knew the basics of fighting, Nat had taught you the main thing. You had ended up understanding Bruce's extravagant chemical formulas, and you understood the most important things Tony said in his intense nerd phases. But once again, you were nothing special, and that made Bucky wonder. Why was a basic human here? What were you doing in the middle of the Avengers? Even though he had missed a few decisive years from a social point of view, he didn't understand.
As he stared from his cell, he saw scenes he didn't know how to interpret. You assisting Tony Stark and Jarvis, you laughing with Bruce Banner, you helping Natasha Romanoff train, you carrying Steve Rogers' shield to him, you sorting Clint Barton's arrows, you redoing Thor's braids.
What were you doing there?
You had cheerfully introduced yourself to him. With a friendly smile on your lips, you had stated your name, first name and pronouns â he hadn't really understood this last point â. You had surely been informed of his situation. Don't be offended, he'll need a little time, someone must have whispered to you. He hadn't answered you, and you hadn't seemed offended. You had then left, and he had remained perplexed. If you already knew everything about him, why come and introduce yourself? You must have read his files, you must have all read his files. Steve had to slip away to get some air, Natasha inspected everything in detail, Bruce muttered "itâs awful". You had to read his files. See his life laid out on a large table, foreign hands going over the medical reports. You had to read with anguish the endless list of victims he had killed during his missions, observe the modifications that had been made to him, the treatments inflicted, the pains endured. You had seen all that. Then, why come see him?
"Let's just say I don't really like you hanging around this guy," Tony's voice had been saying for several minutes, "Jarvis copy this plan for me and make a 3D reconstruction with train stations, airports and all the stuff."
The holograms moved before your eyes, but you hadn't paid attention to them. Back then, the first time you saw this virtual world being modeled in Tony's office, you were like a kid. Stars in your eyes, you asked a thousand questions per second, making the creator of this program smile. But now you knew yourself how most of the "Jarvis" system worked, and you weren't so impressed anymore, or at least you weren't with every move Stark made.
"I don't see what's bothering you," you replied, innocently swinging your legs in the air.
Tony turned around with his ever-so-dramatic gestures, making a vague movement with his hand he tried to make you understand things without having to speak. Unfortunately for him telekinesis was not part of your abilities.
"Okay," he admitted to himself, defeated, "to start with his sophisticated robotic arm that could crush you before you could scream," he mimed disinterestedly, âdid you look at him? Unstable and completely high."
A non-hidden smile drew a curve across your lips.
"We're still talking about Bucky Barnes?â you had fun, âbecause I rather have the impression that you're looking at yourself in a mirror"
You glanced at Jarvis, who was finishing your friend's request. Then, your attention went back to the billionaire who was visibly desperate to have this discussion with you â you were getting used to it, a demonstration of love coming from Tony â.
"I prefer to cut you off right now," your voice continued, "I forbid you to give me the traditional excuses like he's dangerous or armed or he's a murdererâ. You got down from the table where you were sitting and gestured around the room, âlook around Tony, only weapons or future weapons,â you got closer to him and pointed at his forehead, âyou have the greatest weapon that humanity has ever known in this skull. Natasha and Clint are professional killers, Steve is a traumatized soldier who makes a denial, Thor is an alien with supernatural powers and Bruce is a scientist haunted by a destructive alter-egoâ. You pause to admire the still indecipherable facial expression of the man in front of you, âyou are all murderers and dangers to Mankind, the only difference between you and Barnes is that you chose to devote your talents to a cause, and he had no choice".
Tony remained motionless for a few long seconds, a whirlwind surely vibrating his neurons. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly bowed his head in defeat.
"You're right," he declared, "Iâve no more arguments and yours are solidâ, he turned and went back to Jarvis, âwell done kid"
A year ago you would have been perplexed by this reaction, but time had taught you that you had to take Tony Stark with a grain of salt and observe him as you would with a foreign mushroom. All you could remember from this interaction was that you were tired, that you had won against the great megalomaniac Iron Man and above all that you had to talk to Barnes again.
No one had really agreed with Steve on the idea of ââbringing a Hydra mercenary back to Avengers HQ. It's the equivalent of serving him our secrets on a silver platter, Clint had rightly said. You had been surprised to see Nat defend Barnes, alongside you and Steve â of course â. There was Bruce who couldn't deliver a distinct judgment, then Tony and Clint who were against. Thor having left, you didn't know where in space, the votes had therefore been closed with a majority of for.
You had helped Captain set up a room that was at least habitable in a protective cell, a bit like the one that had sheltered Loki. While the tall blond carried the fold-out bed, you had taken care of a bag of clothes â approximately Barnes' size â and another with water and sweets, this idea had come from you. You found it unfair to call this man a simple murderer, he had been manipulated and controlled. As you put the cereal bars on a small iron table, you tried not to think about the chaos that must be going on in the Winter Soldier's head at the same time. He must have been just as traumatized as his victims, maybe even more so. And finding himself in such a particular environment overnight must have been disturbing. So a chocolate bar and a soda couldn't hurt him.
Thank you, Steve had murmured, for understanding. You had given him a touching smile, holding back the urge to ask him how he felt. He had just found his best friend, who was supposed to have disappeared for several decades, and on top of that, this friend had suffered inhumane treatment for most of his life now. It was obvious that he didn't feel well, that he was helpless in the face of this situation. Bruce had advised you to give him time, and that if he needed it, he would end up talking to one of you. You had listened to his advice, and focused more on Barnes instead.
You had introduced yourself first, starting with a simple acquaintance. You had then made sure to take care of his needs, slipping in a new bottle of fresh water when the previous one was empty, opening his prison only when night fell so that he could go shower without running into a contemptuous Tony or a depressed Steve.
On this subject, rules had been established to guarantee everyone's safety. If Bucky left his cell it was always in the company of one of you â you were the only ones with the passes â, if he asked for something â which he never did â the object had to pass through several control portals before being given to him, and finally no matter where he went, toilets or showers, someone had to watch over him within the limits of privacy. Bruce had offered to take turns, but judging by the faces of the others you had volunteered to ensure most of his outings. Natasha was supposed to replace you when you weren't available, then Tony if neither of you were present. This way you had avoided conflicts but also and above all Steve wouldn't have to go there.
You didn't know him, Bucky, having only seen the videos in his file, and yet every time you went to visit him your stomach knotted. There was no question of fear, since his robotic arm had been censored to the maximum thanks to a Stark gadget, leaving him only the freedom to use it as a normal limb, without super-strength or integrated weapons. He remains a super soldier, Bruce had warned, his physical faculties are superior to Nat's and he has a serum similar to Steve's in his veins. But you weren't afraid. Unfortunately a goat would have made you shiver more than Barnes when you went to see him. He was always on pause. Never spoke, barely moving his gaze from the ground. You had been reassured to see that he ate the bare minimum, and he had even tasted a chocolate bar one day. But aside from these details, it was as if you were seeing the same robot in the same position, day after day. Your stomach knotted for these reasons, because when you brought him clean sheets he had nothing of the man you had seen on video. The rage that haunted his eyes had disappeared, there was only a nameless emptiness left, and you had never seen anything so sad. You didn't feel like you had a hundred-year-old Hydra soldier in front of you, but a broken orphan.
You spent a lot of time rereading his file, his reports, his exams. You tried to understand him through these papers. Steve was lost, he no longer saw Buck in those eyes, and you were trying to understand what he had become, Buck. According to his personal file, he had been found at the age of twenty-six before undergoing Hydraâs experiments. A photo of him, in 1943, was stuck to the paper. A shy smile on his lips, his infantry hat slightly tilted on his head and his uniform without a crease sitting proudly on his chest. A tear had seriously rolled down your cheek, ending its path in a Russian handwriting: ĐĐžĐŒĐœĐžĐč ĐĄĐŸĐ»ĐŽĐ°Ń, in other words Winter Soldier. Bruce had carried out a complete tradition of all the documents, later corrected by Natasha. Maybe rereading these texts was not good for you, but you needed it. You were the only one here who was interested in Barnes. Steve felt so guilty that he was in a kind of denial, Nat was only coldly studying the soldierâs file and letâs not even talk about the others. Bucky needed time, understanding and gentleness to at least not make his after-effects worse. You most certainly had to make mistakes, not being a psychologist by profession, but you were already doing better than your comrades and than Hydra.
"Nice evening, huh?" Your voice echoed in a leaden silence.
The sun had set for over three hours, most of the Avengers were in their rooms or gone outside, which meant that it was the perfect time for Barnes to take a shower. You had gathered your strength and went to the soldier's cell. When you had passed by, about two hours ago, he had not wanted to eat his meal so you had taken it back and heated it up again for later. With the hot dish in one hand, you carefully closed the armored glass door behind you. As you expected, Barnes had hardly moved since your last visit. Still sitting cross-legged in his bed, he seemed vaguely to notice your presence.
"I know you didn't want to eat earlier," you began, putting the meal down next to him, "but I thought that maybe your appetite had returned in the meantime."
Sometimes you were entitled to a small, hoarse "hum" from the back of his throat as a response, but you wondered if it was intentional since his gestures didn't match this slight sign of life. Unfortunately, tonight wasn't part of that "sometimes." No noise, barely a breath. But you didn't get discouraged.
The first few times you came to talk to him, his complete lack of reaction had made you wonder about his possible understanding of your language. Yet you had read that he read and spoke at least two languages, including yours. You might not understand what I'm telling you, you had mumbled while picking up his used clothes. Your biggest interaction with him had been when he had looked you straight in the eye and said in a pleasantly deep voice: I understand.
âOther than that you can-â
You were surprised to see him stand up on his own, studiously heading towards the exit door while waiting for you to open it. You were usually the one who went first to the exit, waiting two or three seconds for him to get up and join you. But this was a nice surprise, maybe it meant that his condition was improving.
Your electromagnetic pass stuck to the dashboard, a small beep sounded before you pushed the heavy door and let Barnes go first. These security questions were mandatory for you to approach the Winter Soldier. Always making him walk in front of you, making your pass inaccessible â hidden in your sleeve most of the time as Bruce had advised you â, a bladed weapon concealed against your ankle in case of trouble, and you weren't supposed to talk to him about yourself or the team. Clint had wanted to add an additional rule: not to speak to him unless necessary, to prevent any risk of manipulation. Did you look at him carefully? Had you imposed yourself in the discussion, he didn't utter any opposition during the whole process to bring him back here, and then remember his mission reports, he wasn't a spy but a mass murderer, he was programmed to speak as little as possible to his victims. Tony had agreed with you on the subject, recalling the case of Loki â once again â who was very different from Barnes.
Stupid rules, you thought as you watched the silhouette of the man in front of you advance in the long corridor. If the others saw him for more than five minutes, they would realize that he was nothing more than a victim in this cell. They all found you a little naive and they appreciated you for that, a ray of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet you were by far the one with the best perception of the others. Each villain had arguments, good or bad, you listened to them all. You reasoned with the team, making them come out of their superhero bubble to show them the possibility of a little levity.
You did not doubt the abilities of Barnes, you wanted to find yourself face to face with him even less than with Nat â and that was already a lot â. You sometimes looked again at the surveillance videos taken the day Natasha and Steve fought him for the first time. He was hypnotizing, in the way all his movements seemed to come together with such fluidity and speed, the way his body thought for him and acted accordingly. You were dizzy from a roll in comparison, so seeing it all was astounding. Of course, there were horrible explanations behind these gifts, just like most people who could reproduce all this, but you still couldn't help but analyze these videos. And then, there in that hallway, you looked at Barnes' back, his arm gleaming, the red star enthroned there, and you wondered what was going on in his mind. What he could do was inhuman, and seeing it in image reinforced that feeling.Then you had to realize that he was a human being, who had once been like you. His way of functioning had to have been completely disrupted, distorted and destroyed. We had to reduce to crumbs what had been to build what was now, that was how it worked. To adapt to a new environment we were always advised to forget everything we thought we knew, all the movies said it. In the same way that flat-earthers were convinced that the Earth was flat, Barnes no longer saw the world the way you did.
As the rules said, you discreetly put your pass in a pants pocket as you reached the bathroom. Simple locks served as security, and it was more than enough. No one except you had ever mentioned the possibility that Bucky was trying to end his life. If he did, the bathroom was the best place, which is why a simple lock would do the trick so that you or someone else could break down the door if necessary. But you avoided thinking too much about this exit, because through the few interactions you had had with him and the thoughts you had about him, you had become truly attached to him.
You opened the shower curtain, under Barnes' intrigued gaze. Each Avengers had a bathroom with the bare minimum in their room, but there were also three larger bathrooms on the second floor. These were the rooms to clean yourself in an emergency when you came back covered in blood, or Bruce went there in the event of a green alert for example. They were more accessible than the bedrooms, which explained this function. But what made Bucky curious was not that. You always gave him room number two, with a basic shower, a sink and a toilet. But there you were in number one, with a bathtub. He quickly detailed the room, slightly larger and apart from the bathtub there was nothing that differentiated it from number 2. As always, you had previously removed all objects that could be used as weapons. The pile of two clean towels overhung by harsh soap and shampoo â to avoid the risk of swallowing or too aggressive eye attacks â and the washcloth, were still carefully placed on the edge of the sink. So why a bathtub?
As if you were reading his mind, you turned around in a fluid movement. You took the time to appreciate Barnes' expressive gaze â it was so rare â before answering his questions.
"I assumed it must have been years since you had a real bath, you tried to avoid the Hydra subject, so I thought it could be a good idea?â
A good number of emotions passed through the blue of his eyes, only accentuating your apprehension about his reaction. No one had been even friendly to him for a long time, which meant that he was going to take a while before properly reacting. But as you had imagined, his gaze scanned the bathtub behind you at breakneck speed in search of a trap. I'm not like them, you thought with a pang of heart.
"I know what you must be telling yourself, but there is no trap Bucky,â his name resonated more than you would have imagined, âit's going to be long but believe me I'm not trying to kill you or hurt you"
A heavy doubt seemed to weigh, and you could only understand. This kind of sentence, he must have heard far too many before ending up electrocuted or worse. To help his process, you moved away and let him fully observe the place. His eyes locked on the shower head longer than expected, and once again, you felt nauseous as you imagined the traumas that must be replaying in his head. In that moment, you thought back to the first time you had led him into a bathroom. He had refused to get into the shower, his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth must have hurt, he had stared at you with a cocktail of indecipherable emotions in his eyes. You had ended up remembering the treatment reserved for Jews in the showers during the Second World War, and you had immediately apologized. Sorry, I should have thought of that, you had said guiltily, if you want you can just wash yourself with the washcloth and the faucet water, no need for the shower head today if you don't trust it. And the situation seemed to be happening again tonight, he was afraid that you would want to get rid of him during his shower, or bath in this case. Unfortunately, techniques have evolved since 39-45, especially since he was in the HQ of the greatest engineer in the United States, which meant that you could have found many methods to kill him while he was washing.
But you had to find a way to reassure him, because you had no intention of executing him quietly, and you wanted to be sincerely nice.
"Maybe if it reassures you I can-,â you hesitated before telling yourself that it was for a good cause, âI can stay with you? There's a curtain anyway"
Faced with his expression that swayed from surprise to doubt, you felt obliged to justify.
"If there's gas or an explosion, I'll die with you, which wouldn't be very appreciated by the teamâ, you paused slightly to gauge his reaction, âand if there's anything else threatening you can kill me yourself since I'll be right next to youâ. You then brandish the doorâs key between your two fingers, âon top of that I lock us in and leave the key on the edge of the bathtub, so I don't run away and lock you behind me"
You had the strong impression that in another time, Barnes would have smiled, maybe even laughed. Then, to your surprise, you saw a semblance of amusement in his eyes. An almost invisible veil that lasted only a second, just long enough for a distant version of him to take over the Winter Soldier. You couldn't help your smile, waiting despite everything for a more concrete reaction before reacting in return.
Bucky tried to get a dominant emotion out of the hubbub that was playing in his mind. You were definitely different, and he was beginning to understand why you had your place in the middle of a band of superhumans. And even if someone who spoke like you had the perfect profile to manipulate people at a high level, he risked taking his chance.
"Can I have twenty seconds alone to undress"
The shiver that electrocuted your entire body surely did not go unnoticed. His voice, his tone, gave a more directive than questioning turn to his question, and you only nodded slightly. In turn, you became as silent as him, too disturbed by the outburst of reactions on his part in such a short time. You left the bathroom, pushed the door behind you without closing it, because despite your shock, your unconscious valued your safety.
While you waited for some signal authorizing you to enter the room, you wandered on new thoughts. Barnes had not spoken to anyone from what you had been told. The cameras had recorded that during the fight to neutralize him he had spoken, a few Hydra men were with him so you had assumed that he was giving them orders in Russian. Natasha had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to what he had said, but in hindsight, you wanted to know what had come out of his mouth that day. Tony liked to say that Russian was one of the least welcoming languages ââin the world, but strangely hearing it from Bucky made you want to. Maybe it was his growling voice, maybe because Russian had been his ânativeâ language for years. Besides Russian, he spoke other languages ââaccording to reports, but then again he hadnât shown off his skills to anyone but you. Besides, Iâm pretty much the only one heâs seen since he arrived, you thought. But he had still had the opportunity when Bruce had come with you to visit him to check a wiring on the dashboard. He could have done it from his cell too, since it was completely transparent and he could see the hallway where many people passed, he could have talked. But he hadnât, and without knowing why you had the feeling that he only wanted to talk to you.
The sound of water almost made you jump. You muttered a curse â hoping Bucky hadnât heard â before slowly turning towards the door.
âCan I?â You rather ask to avoid a drama.
By the time he answered, you let your mind wander again. What if he was just naked in the middle of the room? Hydra had conditioned him to lose all sense of ownership, to make even his body no longer belong to him, which he meant was that nudity was no longer taboo and that on the contrary â given to the horrors these people had done â they could very well have forced him to stay naked to humiliate him further.
"Yes," his voice echoed vaguely.
Preparing yourself for the worst, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes high to avoid any eye contact in the wrong place. But as you opened the door you were relieved to see the curtain halfway drawn and Bucky already in the water. A feeling, which at the time you compared to a parent proud of their child, warmed your heart. It may not have been much in the eyes of the world, but you imagined the man's feelings when he plunged a body that had become almost unknown into warm water prepared for him, and him alone. Comfort, surprise, relief. A lot must have been going on in the Winter Soldier's head.
You closed the door behind you, locking the exit as planned. But as you moved closer to place the key next to him, a second wave of heat passed through your body as you realized something. He had only drawn the curtain halfway, thus hiding the lower part of his body but leaving you all the pleasure of seeing from his torso. Once again, in other measures you would not have found the situation moving, but rather comical. Except that this is the Winter Soldier, and all his communication was done without voice. He had left his arms and face visible so that you too could see that he wasn't a threat. In the same way that you had found a solution to his anxiety, he was taking a step towards you, showing you that you had no reason to fear him at the moment.
"Thank you," you murmured.
As if you were afraid of breaking the moment, you settled down without a sound. There was no chair here, but the floor suited you. You crossed your legs while resting your back against the small extension of the wall attached to the bathtub. This way, you stayed close enough to him while respecting a necessary distance to avoid seeing the rest of his naked body.
You forgot to check the time, no longer counting the minutes of observation that the man in front of you gave you before asking questions.
Bucky stayed in the water for a whole hour before it started to cool down. You spent all your time detailing his relaxed face, his eyes closed as if he was going to fall asleep from one second to the next. Then when he opened his eyelids again, he looked at you in turn for a few seconds, before asking you if he could get out of the bath. In his sentence, reality hit you again.
You had a mad desire to tell him that he was free, that he no longer had to take orders. You wanted to show him the world, to make him taste vanilla ice cream, to make him smell incense in churches, the greasy of triple burgers. You had the need to see him buy with his own money, help him get up from his first falls. When he looked at you with his big blue eyes, waiting for your permission to get out of a bath, you wanted to ask him for forgiveness, in the name of humanity. To promise him that no one would come and hit him, to promise this little boy that nothing would happen to him, that he could live a peaceful and happy life with his friends and family. But looking at the raw skin on his left shoulder, looking at the weapon that was implanted in his body, you felt your stomach turn. No one had been there to protect this child from Brooklyn, none of the people who had done this to him had even felt sorry for this man. And today he was sleeping in a cell capable of resisting the strength of the Hulk.
"You can get out of the bath," your voice broke.
He obeyed, rolling the superhuman muscles of his body to straighten up. You barely moved, being too far away in your thoughts to even think of looking away from him. A new blow was dealt to your heart as you realized that yes, he no longer had any notion of possession over his body. Two drops of water fell against your calf as he grabbed the largest towel and wiped his skin without emotion. The rough sound of the fabric made you shiver, and then you slowly stood up. He was taller than you, but neither that nor his robotic arm stopped you from grabbing his wet towel. His body failed to react when you passed the white fabric against his arm, his face was frozen in an expression of total incomprehension, faced with the softness with which the towel came into contact with his skin.
You finished your task, as if he were just a tiny puppy to wipe. Then, you took three steps back and fixed your eyes on his. You handed him some clean clothes, before taking the key back and heading towards the door.
âI really need some hot chocolate,â your voice still broken with tears declared, âand Iâd love to share it with you, Bucky.â
Your slightly trembling hand wiped the moisture from your cheeks, then gradually turned back to the soldier after unlocking the exit. He had already dressed, the black jogging bottoms falling low on his hips. Bucky examined your face, and his eyebrows met in a half-confused, half-sad expression. He got close enough to you for you to feel the warmth he gave off.
âNo cinnamon,â he said, âI donât think I like it.â
You let out a nervous chuckle, telling yourself that only you could find yourself in these situations.
âNo cinnamon.â
There was a first time for everything, and when you saw â later that night â whipped cream on the Winter Soldierâs lips, you thought that after all, the child could not be saved but that you could bring the man back to life.
pictures : Pinterest
dividers : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto
#ew!writings#bucky barnes!ew#ftm!ew#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x ftm#bucky barnes x trans reader#ftm!reader#transgender ftm#ftm reader#transgender reader#trans reader#queer reader#queer fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#winter soldier#winter soldier x reader#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#sebastian stan x ftm reader#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#bucky barnes x ftm reader#afab transmasc reader#transmasc reader#afab transmasc
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Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt10
Tree Hugger
(Summary): After narrowly escaping detection from the Natlan army it seems that the one from before has caught up with you and company
Part 1 Last Part Next Part
⧠Masterlist â§
(Characters): Traveler!Lumine, Paimon, Abyss Prince!Aether, Childe, and ???
(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, potentially bad fight scene, potentially ooc, potential inaccurate descriptions of Natlan, (lmk if I missed anything)
(Word Count): 2.1k

You ran until the layer of snow became thinner and the crunch beneath your shoes resonated less and less. of a heatwave. You ran until the sun that was once rising now sets and paints the sky with a beautiful mixture of red, orange, and purple. You ran despite your feet hurting beyond belief, but the adrenaline kept you pushing forward. You ran despite your lungs burning hotter and a summer day in the midst
Your feet become heavy and your movements became almost sluggish, it seems that Lumine has noticed this
Lumine looks over her shoulder towards you but you see her looking over you and her eyes widen in horror. You look in the same direction and your heart dropped. Just far into the distance you spotted the same jaguar like mask you saw back in Snezhnaya coming at you full speed
âGuys, someoneâs found us!â Lumine yelled as she quickly pushed you behind her and summoned her sword
Your assailant summons their weapon, a long wooden claymore lined with pieces of sharp obsidian blades. They swung it at the traveler who expertly dodged the attacks. When Lumine swings her sword the masked individual blocks it with a shield decorated with colorful feathers. They lift up their club to strike Lumine but Aether comes in and stops the attack
The two fall into a familiar rhythm of fighting the attacker and covering the other, Lumine making swings with her right hand whilst Aether does the same with his left hand
The assailant takes out a cord with 3 balls tied to the ends of it and they swing it above their head before throwing it. The string entangles itself around Lumineâs ankles making her fall to the ground. Aether looks at Lumine to ensure sheâs okay
âAether watch out!â Lumine warns
The prince turns around to see their attacker about to deal a blow, but they put up their shield to block the hydro infused arrows, however some water splashes onto them
Seeing the opportunity Aether throws a few lightning strikes towards the assailant to stun them
Childe uses his hydro vision to make a pair of blades and charges at them. Still in a daze the attacker couldnât react in time to block the slices dealt by the ginger
Lumine finally was able to untangle herself from the bolas
âChilde get down!â Lumine warned and she blasted a large cryo attack at the assailant, freezing them in place
Finally getting their bearings the masked individual puts their hands up in defeat. âI admit defeat, I expected nothing less from the three of you.â They finally spoke
âWho are you?â Aether said while pointing his sword at their neck
Their hands slowly make their way behind their head to remove the mask from their face. You spot two rounded ears covered in a rosette pattern, yellow eyes with slits in the pupils, and short reddish hair
âOh my god!â You shouted out in surprise. âWait, who are you?â
âIâm the high priestess in Natlan, Chimalma, I aid the mighty warriors in various thing, but thatâs a topic for some other time.â Chimalma introduced herself
âWhy should we trust you, for all we know you could have alerted your forces about us.â Aether asked still untrusting of the supposed high priestess
âI know what happened between you and the Raiden Shogun, her seeing your golden blood.â They stated matter of factly. âI also know that the Fatui has been searching for these âprimogemsâ, but you havenât had any luck finding more.â
âHow do you know that?!â Lumine asked as she and Childe got in front of you ready to protect you in a momentâs notice
âI donât mean to bring harm to their Grace, we only wish to help you on your journey.â
âWait, âwe?â Who else is with you?â You asked
âChimalma wouldnât have known about your situation if a little birdie hadnât told her.â A voice replied, you turned your head to see the iconic long pink hair with pink ears drooping because of heavy gold earrings with purple gems, one earring holding an electro vision
âYae?!â You, Lumine, and Paimon shouted in unison
âWhy hello your Grace.â The Guji greeted
âWh-why are you here?! And how did you know that Iâm not the imposter?!â
âWell the Shogun puppet came to the shrine one day and told me about the incident, she even told me about despite Ei seeing your blood but she was forced to raise her blade against you.â You saw Yaeâs usual playful expression uncharacteristically turn into one of pain. âI apologize for our little priestessâ brash behavior earlier, I will deal with them later.â
âWait, I understand where she learned the incident with Ei but how did she learn about the Fatui?!â
âItâs simple,â Chimalma said as she raised her hand out and a blue hummingbird flew over and perched itself her hand. âI had spies watching.â
âBirds talk here?!â You gasped in shock
âThey do but only a chosen few can understand them. Soon youâll understand them.â
âWe need to head out soon, itâs getting late and do something about your clothes.â Yae looks over her shoulder and made a little gesture with her hand, a decent sided wooden carriage pulled by animals you donât recognize and two men dressed in what you assumed to be Natlan clothing come out of the carriage. The twin instantly get in front of you at the sight of the men, sensing your nervousness they give Yae the box and kneel down before you
âJust as Lady Chimalma said, we donât mean to bring you any harm.â One stated
âWe would rather see that our end is met by your hands if you see us as untrustworthy .â The other continued
âNo, youâre good. Iâm not killing anyone except my doppelganger.â You reassured them
âNatlan warriors are an intense bunch.â Yae said as she walks towards you with the wooden box. âI know itâs not much but itâs all that we could find in such a short period.â Yae opens the box to reveal 7 Primogems
You take the gems and they disappear into a glittery blue dust very reminiscent of a nebula in space. You felt a tiny bit of power course through your arm and up to your chest causing an involuntary shiver racks through your body
âWhoa, I actually felt something this time.â You chuckled
âThatâs good to hear, but I know a more effective method to getting your old powers back.â
âReally? What is it?â Paimon asked
âWe need to go to Natlan for that.â Chimalma said as she melted the ice trapping her feet in place
âDonât worry, little one. I will ensure your safety.â Yae said putting her hand on your shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. âHowever, before we enter Natlanâs boarderâs you all need to change into something less eye catching.â Yae said gesturing to your clothes
The Guji snapped her fingers and the two men go back into the carriage and bring out various clothing items, they present them to you and company
âYou have to change out of your clothes to avoid suspicion.â Yae advised
You and the others quickly put on the disguises which consisted of a thick cloth shirt, leggings with a rosette pattern similar to the one that Chimalma has on her ears, and a wooden helmet carved in the shape of a bird, but you were told that could be put on later when in Natlan. Now you resembled the two men clothing wise, you all were ushered into the carriage and settled in. There was only enough room for you and Miko to sit on one side while the others sat right in front of you. The carriage began to make the long journey from Snezhnaya to Natlan, maybe the fact that you were finally stationary in hours because you found yourself dozing off and you almost rested your head on Yaeâs shoulder
âYou look tired, my dear. Why donât you rest a little for now.â Yae smiled as she patted her thighs inviting you to lay your head on them
âOh! A-are you sure, donât want to imposeâŠâ You stuttered out as heat rushes to your face
âNonsense, you need all the rest you can get, remember you have a long journey ahead of you.â
âIf you say so.â You said and laid your head down in her lap. Yaeâs lap felt like heaven, you donât know if itâs due to the fact that youâve slept in a cave and spent the whole day running but her thighs were spiritually healing. You were so preoccupied with the comfort you were experiencing you completely missed the death glares thrown at Yae, who in turn smirked triumphantly
The next thing you feel is Yae gently shaking you awake, you sat up and in your groggy state you looked around and remembered where you are.
âWeâre here.â Chimalma said as you all got out of the carriage and looked at the beautiful landscape. âWelcome to the nation of pyro, Natlan.â
âHow did we get here that fast?â You asked in amazement
âItâs a secret~â Yae said holding her finger in front of her smirking lips
You look around to see reddish orange mountains with various paintings on them. A tap on your shoulder brings your attention towards Yae
âIt isnât safe to be out there for too long without your mask.â
You put on the wooden helmet and followed Yae and Chimalma who lead you and company to a tree with parts of its bark a glowing shade of blue
You see the two hybrids looking at you and the tree expectantly
âOhh! Uhh, how do I âresonateâ with the tree?â You asked
âThe same way our dear traveler resonates with the statues of the seven, by touching them.â Yae answered
You hesitantly extends your hands and rest your finger tips on the tree. After a while your tense shoulders slowly relax and you press your palms on the bark. The moment you spot the blue parts of the tree start glowing brighter than before you instantly withdrew your hands. The soft giggles from Yae drew your attention towards the Guji, she takes your hands and leads them back to the tree
âRelax, just concentrate on connecting with the tree.â
You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, focusing on the tree you feel power and warmth course through you. You take your hands off the tree and open your eyes to see the blue parts glowing brightly
âSo how do you feel?â Lumine asked
âThat was intense, but other than that I feel the same.â You replied
âSummon some fire!â Chimalma urged
You hesitantly held out your dominant hand and imagined a flame coming out from your hand and once the image comes into your mind a decently sized fire envelopes your hand. Surprisingly the flame doesnât hurt you and after a while the flame dies down into nothing
âWhoa, so the way for their Grace to regain their powers is to touch these trees, kinda like Lumine with the statues of the seven?â Paimon asked as she rubbed her chin
âVery intuitive little one, as to why it works for the Ley Lines instead of the statues I do not know.â Yae explains
You spot Aether wanting to say something but stopping himself from doing so, you stopped yourself from prying so to not make the situation awkward
âNow that weâre done here, letâs go time is of the essence.â Yae begins to walk away from the tree
âWait before you go,â Chimalma said as she knelt down before you. âtake this sword with you.â You took the sword and take it out of its sheath to examine it, a brown hilt leading to a blade with similar blue stripes as the tree you just resonated with
âWhy are you giving their Grace a sword?! They have us to protect them!â Aether stated also offended at the implication that he and Lumine arenât enough to protect you
âYou never know and besides itâll help jog up some memories.â
âI think youâre mistaken, Iâve never held a sword like this before.â You said
âMaybe in this life, but in your old life definitely. Everything that the old pyro archon knew, you taught it to them.â
You held the sword and felt something stir inside you and put it back in its sheath
âIâll hold you to that statement.â You said
âI promise itâll come in handy.â
You waved Chimalma goodbye and walk back to the carriage. Mentally preparing yourself for your next destination
The land of electro, Inazuma

Taglist:
@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @ventixthexanemoxarchon @bore2808 @lizzhearthz @ bidisasterforevermore @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch @esthelily @yurivision @angelamelamela @d4y-dr3am3r @blackcoffex @not-the-shroom @raffaelo4ka @rebeccawinters @lhaol @artwitchh @imyme20 @nymphsdomain @sun7flowxr @itz-luna @flowerypesky @ghost-mint @mmmhyperfixation @legendaryexperthideout @lapinaenmicoche @sinsdumbdrabble @land-of-eternity @deathcvltcivilofficial
#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin impact x reader#genshin x female reader#genshin x gn reader#genshin x male reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#genshin sagau#sagau#genshin imposter au#genshin cult au#self aware genshin impact#self aware au#self aware genshin#cult au#sagau Lumine#sagau aether#sagau yae miko#sagau childe
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Can we hear about the day Lazard snapped from the firsts shenanigans?
The Day Lazard Finally Snapped
âą It all starts when Angeal and Sephiroth are passing through the Skyview Hall when they spot Reeve with a baby in a holder strapped to his chest.
Angeal: Hey Reeve! I didn't know you had a child.
Reeve: I don't. This is my assistant's baby. I allow her to bring him in on occasion since childcare is hard to find. She asked me to watch him while she's in a meeting, butâ€
Sephiroth: What kind of mother abandons her child?
Reeve: â€but I have to meet with the editor of Architecture Weekly in ten minutes.
Sephiroth: What kind of mother abandons her child with a strange man who works for Shinra?
Angeal: I'm sorry to hear that, director.
Reeve: Wait, could you two watch him? It'll only be for an hour.
Angeal: I don't thinkâ€
*Reeve hands the child to Angeal, who is now sweating bullets*
Reeve: Great, thanks! By the way, I'm supposed to be locating some materia that went missing from the inventory this morning. Do you mind finding them for me? Here's the list.
*Reeve hands Angeal the list, Angeal hands the baby to Sephiroth, who holds it like a bomb with his arms outstretched*
Angeal: Reeve, I really don't think weâ€
Reeve: Great! See 'ya!
âą Reeve literally sprints away. Angeal looks back at Sephiroth, who has now strapped the baby to the carrier on his chest. Angeal looks down at the list.
Angeal: Three Ifrit summons, sixteen fire materia, nine ice materia, thirty chocobo lures, four petrify materia, and seventeen lightning materia.
Sephiroth: The baby is crying because it wants its mother. I feel a strange kinship with this child.
Angeal: Why would someone need thirty chocobo lures??
Sephiroth: There, there. Don't cry because your mother abandoned you, rejoice because your father isn't Professor Hojo.
*Angeal grows exasperated and turns to Sephiroth*
Angeal: Seph, it's hungry. We need to feed it.
Sephiroth: Where will we find someone with functioning mammary glands on such short notice?
Angeal: FORMULA. GET THE FORMULA IN THE BABY BAG.
*The baby cries more, Sephiroth holds it closer to him*
Sephiroth: You're upsetting our child.
Angeal: IT'S NOT OURâ€*Angeal takes a deep breath*â€It's not our child, give it the baby formula, and let's go. We still need to find the culprit behind the stolen materia.
Sephiroth: Do you mind if we stop by Professor Hojo's lab first? I want to show him what competent fathership looks like.
Angeal: No. And you're acting insane. Here, give me the baby.
Sephiroth: I have only had this child for three minutes, but if anyone tries to hurt it or take it away I will kill everyone here.
Angeal: When this is all over, I'm signing you up for art therapy and getting you a cat.

âą Lazard is away on a business trip and has left Genesis in charge. He's supposed to be getting work done, but instead he's sitting in Lazard's office with his feet up, reading a romance novel.
Genesis: I don't understand why Lazard complains all the time. This is the easiest position in this company.
âąThere's a violent crash right outside the office, followed by Zack's voice going "Wow! I didn't know the ceiling was that easy to break."
*Genesis gets up at the speed of light. He runs out and sees Zack and Cloud with tennis rackets*
Genesis: What are you doing? I thought I sent you far away on a mission to Cosmo Canyon.
Zack: We got back early! And since Angeal's busy there's no point in training. Plus, my mission report can wait until Lazard's back.
Genesis: And what's Strife doing here? Last I recall this is the SOLDIER floor, not the Infantrymen Who Look Like Baby Chocobos floor.
Cloud: Could've fooled me. I saw you and thought this was the Sephiroth Is Better Than Me So I Take It Out On Bad Poetry floor.
Genesis: Listen hereâ€
*Zack jumps between them*
Zack: We were just playing some tennis! Where's the harm in that?
Genesis:
Genesis: Zack where's the ceiling
*They look up and six ceiling panels are missing*
Zack: We're playing pro tennis.
Genesis: Goddess.
Cloud: But we lost all of our balls and now we can't play anymore.
Genesis: Hm. Have you tried substituting them with something else?
Cloud: Like what?
Genesis: Materia are round and large enough to work.
Zack: Good idea, but we don't have any to spare.
Genesis: I have some.
*Genesis pulls a key out of his pocket, walks across the hall, and unlocks a supply closet where he pulls out a crate full of materia*
Zack: Woah! How many do you have in there?
Genesis: Three Ifrit summons, sixteen fire materia, nine ice materia, thirty chocobo lures, four petrify materia, and seventeen lightning materia.
Cloud: Why does the box say Property Of Shinra Electric Power Company? Wait, did you steal this??
Genesis: There is no such thing as stealing if your victim stole it from the planet.
Zack: Why thirty chocobo lures??
Genesis: Do not presume to question my actions.

âą Sephiroth and Angeal have no leads on the missing materia, so they decide to go ask the turks for any information they have. They walk into a conference room where Tseng and Rufus are talking.
Tseng: WHY do you have a baby??
Sephiroth: Two men cannot raise a child without being criticized.
Angeal: We're babysitting.
Rufus: How may we help you?
Angeal: A crate of materia went missing from the inventory. Reeve asked us to locate it. Any chance you have an idea where it went?
Rufus: We were just going over the security footage, actually. A stunning, beautiful woman was seen entering and leaving with the stolen materia.
Tseng: Come take a look.
*They walk over and watch the security footage*
Sephiroth:
Angeal:
Angeal: That's GENESIS.
Tseng: Impossible. I had no idea Rhapsodos was a master of disguise.
Sephiroth: He's not even in disguise. He wore that dress to a Loveless performance yesterday. *said while he rocks the baby to sleep*
Rufus: Sephiroth, would you mind accompanying me to meet my father? I'd like to show him what adequate fathership looks like.
Sephiroth: Gladly.
Angeal: *exasperated* We'll get the materia back from Genesis, don't worry. There's no need to get involved, and we'll make him promise not to do it again.
Tseng: Actually, the issue is much more annoying. You see, the crate he stole contained faulty materia. We're not sure they even work, but if they do there might be some...explosive consequences.
Angeal: Don't worry, knowing Genesis, he's hording the materia somewhere until the search dies down and hasn't actually used it yet.
*The baby hasn't fallen asleep and is wide awake*
Sephiroth: Of course, how could I be so foolish? The baby needs to be tired out through playtime and proper enrichment first.
*Rufus takes a box of ammunition from his coat pocket and uses it as a rattle. The baby laughs*
Tseng: Sir, I don't think that's an appropriate toy for a baby.
Sephiroth: Nonsense. I had that toy when I was younger and I turned out fine.
Angeal: No the fuck you did not.

âą Zack and Cloud's tennis match with materia is going smoothly. Genesis has made himself the umpire and is officiating the match. They're in Lazard's office so no one catches them slacking off.
*Cloud hurles a fire materia toward Zack at top speed. Zack shrieks and ducks*
Genesis: Five love.
Zack: No fair! He's just aiming it right at me!
Cloud: Because you're my opponent. That's how tennis works.
*Cloud sends another chocobo lure Zack's way that hits him right in the face*
Genesis: Six love.
Zack: WE GET IT, YOU'RE OBSESSED WITH LOVELESS. SHUT UP.
Genesis: ......
Cloud: I really need to get back and start getting ready for patrol tonight.
Zack: Nooo, come on! Just one more try! I'll beat you, you just watch.
âą Cloud sighs and readies himself. Zack grabs a lightning materia and serves. Cloud hits the materia when it reaches him. Except this time it fuses with the tennis racket and starts hissing and billowing smoke. Cloud panics and lets the tennis racket drop. It starts glowing and vibrating.
âą All of the littered materia on the office floor start emitting the same low whistle and vibrating, all at once.
âą Genesis senses the incoming explosion. He grabs Zack and Cloud and dives under the desk.

âą Lazard comes back from his business trip early. He's in the elevator thinking about the decision to leave Genesis in charge. He had initially meant to bequeath Sephiroth the responsibility, but felt for Genesis. They're always placing him second next to Sephiroth, constantly berating and expecting the worst from him.
âą He thinks it's unfair. Genesis is one of the most competent SOLDIERs in the program. He's hardworking, responsible and authoritive. There's no doubt in Lazard's mind that everything is running smoothly in his absence.
*Lazard opens his office door*
âą The three Ifrit summons went off and are raging, smashing the walls and ceilin. The fire materia also went off and now everything is on fire. It's shooting fire balls and one of them burned the office door clean off, shattering the glass. The ice materia has caused a raging blizzard inside the office and everything that isn't on fire is freezing over. The lightning materia is causing firework-like explosions to go off.
âą Lazard stands there for a good five minutes, petrified (literally) (the petrify materia hit him)
âą Once the last blast of lightning goes off and things seem to have quieted down, Genesis, Zack and Cloud poke their heads up from under the desk.
Zack: Hey, director! We didn't expect you back so early!
Cloud: How was the business trip? Have fun?
Genesis: My, my, director, that suit makes you look dashing. Have you done something to your hair?
âą It's a poor choice of words because half of Lazard's hair is on fire.
*Angeal runs in*
Angeal: Genesis, you crook. Did you use Lazard's access card to steal all that materia?? Do you know how mad he's going to be when he finds out? He's already in trouble with upper management because he left you in charge.
*Zack points to Lazard in the corner, Angeal turns around*
Angeal: Oh. Oh no.
âą And then the chocobo lures go off. Thirty grown chocobos come speeding into the office, two of them knocking Lazard to the ground.
âą And then, as if things couldn't possibly get any worse, Sephiroth runs in with the baby.
Sephiroth: Angeal, how dare you abandon me and our child??
Angeal: Oh my god.

âą The Firsts and Zack are sitting in the briefing room when Tseng walks in.
Tseng: Good morning. As you all know, Lazard has taken a medical leave. I'll be taking his place while he's away.
Genesis: How is he? I tried to visit him in the hospital yesterday, but apparently the mere mention of my name sent him into another cardiac arrest.
Tseng: He's sedated and fine. Don't feel discouraged. Two Seconds went in to visit him this morning, but all it took was one look at a SOLDIER uniform and he started screaming.
Angeal: If he quits, it's on Zack, Gen and Strife. Sephiroth and I were busy hunting materia and babysitting.
Sephiroth: No. You were looking for the materia. I was taking adequate care of the baby and giving it the attention its mother denied it.
Tseng:
Tseng: Sephiroth
Tseng: Sephiroth why do you still have the baby?
*They look over and sure enough, Sephiroth has the baby in a carrier strapped to his chest*
Sephiroth:
Sephiroth: I'm the most competent adult in its life.
#ff7#ffvii#final fantasy 7#sephiroth#ffvii crisis core#final fantasy vii#genesis rhapsodos#ff7 crisis core#angeal hewley#crisis core#zack fair#cloud strife#tseng ff7#rufus shinra#storytime
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top five scenes/lines/moments from drarry fic
rookie moves by peu_a_peu - not gonna lie, every single scene. but you put a gun to my head and make me pick just one, i'll pick two -
âYou shouldâve died, Draco,â Nott snarled. âIf you had a shred of honor youâd have died.â âWell guess what, Theodore?â Malfoy said, with a horrible, mocking smile. âI donât, and I lived.â Nott stared daggers into Malfoy. His hands went behind the armchair. Harry knew instantly: he was about to do something stupid. There was no time to do anything but give Malfoy a hard shove just as Nott cried, âAvada Kedavra!â A jet of green lightning cracked through the spot where Malfoy had just been standing, charging the air, hitting the wall with a terrible explosion. âWhat are you doing, Theodore?!â Malfoy wailed as he ducked for cover behind the couch. âWeâre throwing AKs at ten in the morning?!â
jesus i've read it 800 times and i am as we speak gasping for air
McGonagall turned, and absorbed the other half of we. âMr. Malfoy,â she said, quelling unsuccessfully what sounded like considerable shock. âAuror Malfoy,â Malfoy corrected her. âProfessor.â âWell.â She blinked a number of times before speaking diplomatically. âI canât say itâs the career Iâd have predicted for you. But oneâs former students do turn up in surprising fields.â Malfoy smiled the shit-eating smile of someone who couldnât be given detention. Who was, in fact, medically calm. âItâs a calling.â
running on air by eleventy7 - you already know
Do you remember when we were eleven? Let's go back to that. I'll throw Remembralls into the sky and you can try to catch them. Sometimes I think you can just keep my wand. I think of all the Dark spells I performed, all the Unforgiveables I tried to cast with it.  But then I remember when I was eleven years old, learning Lumos and casting mending charms, and it's hard to let go of that. So give me my wand, or give me a timeturner.
trouble, my old friend by tepre - the one with the fucking buttons
He says, âTell me,â and Harry â running low on sleep, confused and aroused and altogether unfamiliar to this new world of desire â canât quite keep himself in check. He wants, for a moment, simply wants, knows not what to do with it, where to direct it, and the feeling bubbles like wild magic. He realises a fraction too late that no, not like, but magic â staring at the spot where Malfoyâs scar disappears below the high collar of his shirt. The stiff hem of the doublet, buttoned shut over his Adamâs apple. With a small sound, the top button of the doublet pops open. Then the second, the third. Malfoy sucks in a breath.
ain't no friend of mine by lettered - when harry's being a little bitch and dog!draco simply will not stand for it
Potter slammed open the door. For a moment he just stared down at Draco with that annoying face of his, with the insane hair, and the disfigured scar. Then he yanked the slobbery scarf out of Draco's mouth, and said, low and tight, "Leave me the fuck alone, why don't you; don't you see I don't bloody care; I don't want anyone near me; I DON'T WANT YOU; I NEVER WANTED YOU; GO AWAY!" And Draco all the sudden remembered why he'd joined the Inquisition Squad. Potter in fifth year had been exactly like this and it was really annoying.
draco malfoy's substitute murder service by oknowkiss - the one where draco hands harry his business card
Harry reads the card again. Flips it over. Looks at Draco, watches him sip his tea. Notices one of his bra straps is showing. Reads the card a third time. Fails to make sense of anything at all. âHave you lost your goddamn fucking mind?â Harry snaps, throwing the card back at Draco. âWhat in the absolute shit is this?â âDid you read the card?â Draco asks. He tucks it back into his bra. âI feel like youâre asking questions that have all been answered by the card.â
bonus 1: if an injury is to be inflicted by shealwaysreads - when draco meets ron and hermione The Morning After
Dracoâs smile threatened to bloom into genuine delight at the look on her face. He had dressed deliberately casually, forgoing his usual high-collared robes for a pair of charcoal grey trousers and a pale grey shirt; open at the collar to expose the mess Potter made of his neck and collarbones. She opened and shut her mouth twice, before Weasley broke the silence and stepped towards Draco, towing Granger along with him.
bonus 2: owl was well by fencer_x - when draco flies to the burrow bc he's "bored" and gets beat up by crookshanks
âEr,â Potter said, giving Draco a comfortable berth of several steps. âThat was Crookshanks. Hermioneâs cat. Weâre gonna watch him while she and her folks are in Germany for the holiday to visit family in Dusseldorf.â He frowned to himself, brows knitting in confusion. âI thought he could see through Animagus transformations, though. Iâm not sure why heâd attackâoh. Guess he recognised you.â Oh, indeed. Draco ran his fingers through his hairâhe probably looked a fright now. âI suppose itâs going to hold a grudge against me for all nine of its lives, then.â
ask me top 5/10 anything
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Swampbound V

The rest of the day passed like a slow, heavy fog. Adla kept herself busy with chores, but her thoughts were spinning, caught up in the newly-discovered truths that had turned her world upside down overnight.Â
Terry had shifted from a wolf to a man right before her eyes, and despite his wildness, he hadnât struck her as a monster until he squared off against Jesse. Jesse, who she wasnât sure she could trust anymore. She didnât know how long heâd been hiding the truth or how many secrets he held, but the sharp edge of his lies cut deep. And then there was that dark mask that had slipped over his faceâtwice.
It all made sense now: his fussing about her walking the woods alone. Theyâd grown up tearing through the thick brush and vines in her backyard, never fearing what lurked out there. The worst they encountered was the occasional snake, and that was enough to send them flying back to her daddyâs arms. Gators and wild hogs were around, but they kept their distance unless you gave âem reason.
"Live and let live," she'd always believed inâuntil now. Now, she was being pulled into a world sheâd only heard about in old storiesâshapeshifters and whatever Jesse truly was.Â
What else was hiding just beyond her sight? Had she been blind to the world around her all this time? She thought about the folks in townâfaces sheâd known all her life. Could any of them turn into monsters under the right moon? The idea that the world she knew was just a shadow of something far darker and deeper gnawed at her insides.
Adla ran a bath, sprinkling sea salt and lavender into the water, hoping it might settle her nerves. But no matter how long she soaked, the unease wouldnât let go. Every few minutes, her eyes drifted toward the window, scanning the shadows outside. She didnât even know whyâwhether it was instinct finally waking up, making her notice things she used to miss, or if, deep down, she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Terry.
Her mind churned with questions, pieces of old legends surfacing from the depths of her mind. Was he born like that or had it come upon him somehow? What brought him and his cousin to her little corner of the world? And Chief Burneâhow had they gotten tangled up with him? But the question that weighed most heavily on her heart was personalâdid Terry feel that same pull she did? Did he sense the charge in the air whenever they were close?
Was he out there right now, stalking Burne in the dark?Â
She couldnât know for sure.
As the bathwater cooled around her, the image of Jesseâs limp body flashed through her mind like lightning. She could still see herself standing over Jesse, Terryâs lips brushing against her neck, grounding her in the chaos.
âFor what itâs worth, Iâm sorry for bringinâ all this trouble to your door.â
She looked up at him then, really looked at him, memorizing every sharp feature, the way the sunlight filtered through the window and highlighted his face. She knew heâd find his cousin, finish whatever it was that needed finishing, and then heâd be goneâlike a phantom fading back into the night.Â
The thought twisted something deep inside her.
âI need you to do something for me before you head out,â Her voice was soft, but there was a weight to it, something that carried more than simple words. Whatever she was about to ask would tether him here, one way or another, and he wasnât sure if heâd ever find the will to leave.
She didnât know what was driving her, what compelled her to say the words, but she stared up into his eyes, searching for assurance. Her earlier ire had dissipated just like that, and all she could focus on was Terry. "Promise me you'll be careful. Get your cousin, but keep yourself outta harm's way."
"Iâll watch my back. You just take care of yourself." Terry said, his tone firm yet reassuring as he placed a comforting hand on the small of her back.
Just then, Jesseâs finger twitchedâonce, then againâan involuntary movement that sent a jolt of panic through her. Adlaâs heart raced, and she could almost hear the ticking clock in the back of her mind, each second tightening the noose of dread.
Adla knew she should be angry with Terry, using all her energy to push him out the front door and out of her life. But in that moment, her judgment blurred. All that mattered was keeping Terry and Jesse apart.
"We need to move him outside. Make it look like he fell and hit his head! Just hurryâhe canât wake up in here, not like this!â Her voice trembled with urgency, a tight knot of anxiety coiling in her stomach. The fear of Jesse waking up to see Terry loomed over her like a dark cloud, thick and suffocating.Â
Something whispered in her mind that crafting a story was the only way to hold back the coming storm.
Pulled by something she couldnât explain, Adla snatched a mop and broom from the closet and dashed outside. Terryâs voice trailed after her, but she couldnât make sense of his words; all she could think about was getting the place cleaned up. That one wordâhurry!âechoed in her mind, pushing her hands to move faster, scrubbing away at whatever traces she could, as if she could sweep the whole mess out of memory.
As she scrubbed the porch with frantic strokes, her mind spiraled through the chaos of the morningâTerry, Burne, Jesse. The blood had dried, resisting her efforts, and she knew no amount of cleaning could erase what had happened. Still, it was the only thing she could control. Jesse would wake up and rememberâhe had to. Her hands moved in a desperate rhythm as dread gnawed at her.Â
What would she say when he came to? And what would Jesse do?
âAdla, what are youâ?â Terryâs voice cut through her frantic thoughts, but she couldnât focus on him right now. She heard him moving Jesseâs unconscious body, his strong hands lifting the other man with ease, as if he were a child. A strange mix of gratitude and anxiety washed over her. If they could just get Jesse outside, away from the traces of his fight with Terry, maybe she could finally breathe again.
Her gaze darted to the small gash at the back of Jesseâs head as Terry set his body down, and something in her stirredâa fierce need to erase what had happened. As she dabbed at the blood seeping from the wound, she whispered, âPlease donât remember... please donât remember...â The words slipped from her lips like a prayer, soft yet insistent.Â
With every touch, she felt a strange sensation spark between them, her intentions weaving through the air like mist, settling in the fragile space between her and Jesse.
Now, as she reflected on that moment, doubt crept in. Jesseâs confusion struck her as odd. Sheâd staged a clumsy scene, but his memory shouldâve helped him see through it.
Heâd gotten riled up, insisting something was off, yet he hadnât called her out on it. Was he pretending not to remember?
A chill ran down her spine. Had her whispered words done something? Maybe it had something to do with Terryâs supernatural abilities?
A flicker of realization tugged at herâa hint of something strange brewing beneath the surface. She didnât understand it yet, but the fact that Jesse really seemed to have forgotten left her feeling unsettled.
With a heavy sigh, she slipped out of the bathtub, telling herself to stop chasing answers that werenât coming. She prayed sleep would ease the steady stream of thoughts swirling in her head, but it didnât come easily. Her eyes grew heavy as the drone of cicadas seeped through the window, growing louder until it overpowered her thoughts.
Moonlight crept in through the cracks in the curtains, casting soft, silver-blue ribbons across the room. The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, stirring cool air over her skin. Adla turned onto her side, drifting somewhere between sleep and wakingâuntil something sent a jolt through her senses.
"Iâm gonâ need your help again."
Adlaâs eyes flew open.Â
Terry sat on the edge of her bed, his presence too large, and too close for comfort.Â
Her face mirrored silent disbeliefâmouth agape, hands pressed against her cheeks, as if she were trapped in a nightmare. It had been one thing to offer her help earlier. This? This was something else entirely.Â
What had she done by letting him in?
Instinct kicked in, and a rush of adrenaline surged through her veins. She moved fast, reaching for the nightstand, but then froze, her heart pounding as moonlight caught the glint of metal. Her pistol lay casually in his lap, as if it belonged there, held looselyâsuggesting no immediate threat unless he decided differently.
Donât freeze up now!
Her fingers twitched, searching under the pillow for her knife, only to find nothing but cool, empty sheets. Terryâs eyes followed her movements, a sly smile creeping across his face. âWhat you lookinâ for now, baby?â he murmured, his voice a smooth drawl that made her breath hitch, a mix of fear and something unnameable stirring in her gut.
He has some nerve callinâ me baby. ââI ainât helpless, and I sure as hell ainât no baby!
That thought sparked something deep in her chest. She moved fast, aiming to shove him off balance, but he was quicker. In an instant, his weight was on her, wrists pinned to the bed, his breath hot on her skin.
The ceiling fan hummed lazily above them, oblivious to the heavy tension that now filled the room. She could barely breathe beneath him. His scent wrapped around herâearthy, masculine, and something a little wild beneath it all. Anger surged through her. She was furious at him for barging in like he owned the place, but even more at herself for letting him get this close.
How had he slipped in without her hearing a thing?
âWhat do you want?â she snapped, struggling against his hold.
âYou,â he answered, his voice soft and steady like restraining her was nothing, âand that sharp mind of yours.âÂ
Adlaâs brow furrowed.
Does he meanâŠin the literal sense? But before her thoughts could spin too far, he shifted, one hand gathering both of her wrists above her head, while the other reached over to flick on the bedside lamp. The soft glow cast shadows against their faces in the dark, making the moment feel far too intimate.
âNot literally,â he murmured, voice smooth as molasses. He lingered, closer than he should have, inhaling that sweet lavender on her skin. âOur deal still stands. Just curious about what you know 'bout the police chief and his boys.â
Heâd promised not to bite unless she asked, but a small part of her wished he would. Let him sink his teeth in, drain her dry, and end it all. At least she'd see her father again and free from the troubles that had surfaced. The thought flickered in her mind, and she cursed herself for even considering it.
"Enough," she rasped, struggling to regain controlâof her mind, her body, her will. âTheyâve been shaking folks down for years. Make âem pay to live âround here. Starts smallâmaybe a busted window or slashed tire if you donât pay up. But then it gets worse. Fires. People go missing. You pay, youâre safe. But not everybodyâs got the money.â
"But you donât pay, do you? Whyâs that?"
Her pulse quickened.Â
So he had been snooping, listening with those sharp ears of his. Cold sweat gathered at the back of her neck. What else could he pick up on without her knowing? Could he sense her quickened pulse was more than fear? Could he smell the heat pooling between her thighs?Â
It was a bizarre sensation to feel while caught in her predicament, but there was no denying it was real.
âHow do you know that?â she shot back, the tremor in her voice betraying her.
Terryâs eyes gleamed, a predatorâs lookâcalm, controlled, but intense. His gaze swept over her like he could read every flicker of emotion, every tiny movement, as though she were a mystery he intended to unravel piece by piece. He echoed her words from earlier, voice smooth but firm, "I asked you a question.âÂ
Anger flared hotter in her chest.
Adla swallowed hard, her jaw tightening. âMy daddy and Burne had an understanding. He honors it with me. I stay outta his way, he stays outta mine. Thatâs how itâs always been.â
Terryâs expression shifted, contemplating her words.Â
âWhat do you know about that understanding?âÂ
âNot much,â she replied, frustration tightening her throat. âI was just a kid back then. Burne came around a few times, and every time, Daddy sent me out back like he didnât want me to see whatever ugly business they were discussing. Burne never lingered, though.â
Terryâs jaw clenched tightly, his voice low and intense. âThink harder. Thereâs got to be something more.â
Her nostrils flared as she wriggled in his grip, her body tense against his, struggling to break free. "Iâd remember better if I wasnât being held hostage by a man who broke into my house." His grip remained firm, but she caught a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, frustration crossing his face.
âWhat are you mixed up in, Terry Richmond?â she demanded, searching for a crack in his armor.Â
Finally, he released her.
She rubbed her wrists, sitting up with her eyes fixed on him, challenging him to explain himself.
âDid I hurt you?â Terry asked, his tone almost tender. He took her hands, fingers brushing over them slow and gentle, then pressed a quick kiss to each one, whispering sincere apologies against her perfumed skin.
She didnât pull her wrists back, didnât jerk away. Just held still, watching, waiting to see what heâd do next. One minute, he was charm personified; the next, red hot and demanding.Â
âIâm fine,â she lied, but the heat between her thighs refused to fade, steady and pulsing, intensifying with every passing moment. She couldnât shake it off for anything and couldnât help but wonder what kind of root he was working on her.
âDonât you worry âbout my troubles,â he said, the weight of pulling her into his mess heavy on his shoulders. The fate of his cousin loomed over him, driving him to the brink. His shoulders sagged, but he held her gaze. âIâm sorry for barging in on you like this. It wonât happen again. I promise you that.â
He stood to leave, moonlight casting faint shadows across his caramel skin. She had a wild notion to ask him to stayâthe house felt too lonely some nightsâbut thatâs when her gaze caught the ink on his arm once more.
A jolt of memory struck her.
âHold up a minute! That necklace! Chief Burne took a necklace with some kinda strange mark on itâthe same one youâve got inked on your arm!â
Terry froze in the doorway, his whole body going rigid. âYou sure 'bout that?â
âYeah! I remember it clear as day. It was real strange.â Memories of the past rolled out before her like an old film, every moment flickering back to life. âI found it onceâDaddy had it tucked away in that old dresser.â She nodded toward the corner of the room.
âWhen I found it, he fussed at me somethinâ fierce, told me to stay outta his things. Daddy never got mad like that, not with me. The next day, it was gone. Didnât see it again âtil Chief Burne came by and Daddy handed it over. I canât believe I forgot!â She could still picture itâthe way sheâd perched on a rickety milk crate, peeking through the window to catch a glimpse of their exchange. It hadnât held her long, but she saw enough to remember that moment.
Adla had thought her daddyâs businessâand everything tied to itâhad been buried with him. But now, it felt like a ghost from his past was rising to the surface.Â
âWhatâs up with that necklace?â
Terryâs gaze shifted, a whirlwind of emotions churning just beneath the surfaceâhard to read but impossible to ignore. âLetâs just say itâs a piece of my family history.â
âWhat kinda history we talkinâ âbout?â Adla crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as the shadows seemed to thicken around them. Having a man in her bedroom felt surreal. Jesse always avoided this room during his visits, claiminâ it was too strange to be her daddy's old space. It felt like she and Terry were sharing something sacred and intimate, bound together in a way she couldnât quite grasp yet.
âYou think you can handle the truth? Knowinâ ainât always what you think it is.â Terry asked, his voice roughening as he took long, deliberate strides back toward her bed.Â
âI figure Iâve earned the right, considerinâ you keep breakinâ into my house.â
âYou invited me in,â he said with a sly glint in his eyes. âI wouldnât be here if you hadnât.â There it was againâ that same strange fixation on the idea of being invited, like it mattered more than it should. âItâs gonna change everything you think you know. You ready for that?â
She hadnât anticipated any of the turmoil since heâd shown up, but there was no turning back now. âJust tell me,â she urged, her fingers tracing the patterns on the comforter. When he settled onto her bed this time, it felt like an invitation rather than an intrusion.
âYou know Iâm a shifterâŠâ She remembered their earlier conversation and the massive black wolf that had shown up on her porch. â...but you donât know how it all started. You believe in magic?â
She swallowed hard, nodding. "How could I not, especially with everything that happened today?"
âIt all started with a pact that changed everything for us.â
Terryâs expression shifted, turning grave. âMy grandfather was a maroonâone of them âunrulyâ slaves who had the guts to run off from his plantation and into these swamps. He was one of the first to break free. Word got around, and more folks joined him; their strength grew by the night. Theyâd sneak back in the dark, helpinâ anyone brave enough to follow âem to freedom.â His voice dropped to a steady murmur, thick with resolve. âAmong those he led were healers, rootworkers, and conjurersâmen and women who were deep-rooted in their traditions, carryinâ the power to shape reality, but always payinâ a hefty price for it.â
An image of Jesse's grandmother flickered through her mind.
âI donât know everything about the witchesâhow they do what they do,â he continued, locking eyes with her. âBut they can work wondersâthings thatâll stop you dead in your tracks.â
She recalled the bright light shooting from Jesseâs hands earlier, and the hairs on her arms stood on end.
âThe maroons carved out their own path, livinâ side by side with the native folks in these swamps. But as the number of enslaved people started to drop in this area, the enslavers took notice. They couldnât afford to lose any more âproperty,ââ he growled, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. âSo they began sendinâ out hunting parties.â
âAt first, they didnât know the lay of the land, so the maroons slipped right through their fingers. But when that didnât work, they turned to our own people. They dangled promises of freedom, tryinâ to lure âem outta the swamp with visions of homes with walls and their own land. It was a lie, but it had a way of workin' on folks. People had families to think about, I reckon.â
It was easy to judge when you didnât know the daily struggles they facedâsneakinâ into town for scraps, navigatinâ a world rigged against âem, riskinâ everything just to make it through the day. Freedom came with a heavy price.
âThey twisted the law, huntinâ us down like we was nothinâ but animals. Meanwhile, white folks kept gettinâ rich off our backs.â
A thick silence hung between them, both lost in thoughts of their ancestors and the unspeakable horrors theyâd endured.
Terry shook his head, tryinâ to shake off the weight of the past. âNeedless to say, their tactics worked. By the end, nearly everyone was dead. A few ordinary but tough souls, like my grandfather and just a couple of the witches, managed to survive. Out in these very woods, they came up with a plan for payback. Those witches could give âem the power to rise against their oppressors, but it came at a steep costâtradinâ their humanity for the ability to transform.â
She could piece together the unspoken parts: The maroons were worn thin, workinâ twice as hard just to get by, while white men wielded their privilegeâarmed with better weapons, sheltered in comfort, and backed by all who supported the chains of slavery. They had no choice.
She reached out, her fingers skimming over his forearm, a soft touch she knew she probably shouldnât be makinâ. As if pulled by some unseen force, Terryâs hand glided down to rest on her leg, his warmth grounding them both in that delicate moment of connection.
âSo they made a pact. Each full moon, the men would be trapped in the shape of a big olâ wolf, their humanity swallowed by the beast inside. But for the rest of the month, they could shift at willâkeepinâ themselves safe and protectinâ whatever was left of their kin.â
âThat mustâve been downright terrifying, beinâ trapped outside their own skin,â Adla said, her mind wanderinâ to what sheâd do if she had to make a choice like that.
âThey werenât about to go back to no chains or meet death without swinginâ back. Thatâs how Iâhow we came to be,â Terry said, layinâ bare the truth of his origin.
âAnd what about that necklace?â Adla asked, sensing the intricate puzzle was missing some key pieces. Terryâs touch and those piercing eyes were pulling her in, but her instincts remained razor-sharp. Everything he shared had begun to connect in her mind, but there was still more to uncover.
A look crossed his face, like he was digging up a memory of his own.
âThatâs a whole other story. But if your daddy had it, he probably stashed away a book with a ledger too. You know where that might be?â
Chapter 6.
@nayaesworld
@nahimjustfeelingit-writes
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#AARON PIERRE#REBEL RIDGE#TERRY RICHMOND#TERRY RICHMOND X OC#TERRY RICHMOND X BLACK OC#TERRY RICHMOND X BLACK!OC
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THE 25TH HOUR | O1
âđđ:đđ đđâ

"Time doesn't just stop at 1:59 AM. It fractures, it bleeds, and it brings a stranger who feels achingly familiar. And maybe the biggest mystery isn't the frozen cityâit's why he looks at you like he's already lost you a thousand times."

next | index
â chapter details
word count: 2,4k
content: waking up in the 25th hour for the first time, time stopping, meeting the enigmatic min yoongi, and the creeping suspicion that this has all happened before

â authorâs note
Well. Welcome to the Yoongi fanfic that will absolutely boggle your brain. Or at least, itâs boggling mine, but maybe thatâs because I, unlike 25H!Y/N, am not built for analytical thought. Like, this girl is out here calculating temporal density shifts while Iâm struggling to calculate how much sleep I need to survive (spoiler: more than Iâm getting).
Honestly, this? I really said fuck the Matrix, letâs make it worse. You think you know where this is going? You donât. Youâre not ready, I promise you that much. This is angsty. Heavily. And not in the Fuck Me Up way, noâthereâs no knife to the gut here. This is the slow, creeping existential dread of realizing time is a lie and also, you might be in love with someone whoâs doomed. Or, worse, someone whoâs doomed you. :) fun!
Thereâs a star-crossed lovers tag for a reason, okay??? But Iâm also a horny hoe, so you will get smut. And not just smut. SMUT. The kind that makes you need to take a walk and question your life choices. I canât say more or Iâll spoil it, so someone please sew my mouth shut before I start screaming about whatâs coming. But just. Trust me. Itâs worth it.
I know this might be a lot at firstâtemporal mechanics, erased timelines, ominous government agencies, Yoongi in a black turtleneck (the most dangerous thing of all)âbut I promise itâll make sense eventually. If not, Iâll make docs and diagrams for you like the absolute nerd that I am. Literally bombard my inbox with questions, Iâm ready.
This is my love letter to The Matrix, The Umbrella Academy, and specifically Five Hargreeves (no, I donât acknowledge Season 4, it doesnât exist, donât talk to me). And, of course, itâs also a love letter to Yoongi as the time-traveling, exhausted, morally gray bastard of your dreams.
So, yeah. Strap in. Itâs gonna be one hell of a ride.

â read on
AO3
WATTPAD

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 01:59:00 AM when time stops.
The initial indicator isn't the digital displayâit's the complete absence of the watch's usual microscopic vibrations against your wrist. Standard-issue Chrono-Sync Watches pulse at precisely 60 beats per minute, synchronized with the Master Clock. You've worn one since receiving your Temporal Monitoring certification three months ago. The constant rhythm becomes white noise, unnoticeable until it stops.
Now, at 01:59:00 AM, there is no pulse.
Temperature reading: 22°C. Three degrees below normal.
Your first thought is device malfunction. Protocol dictates immediate reporting of any Chrono-Sync irregularities. You reach for your phone to log the incident, but your hand freezes mid-motion.
The numbers on your digital clock aren't changing.
01:59:00 AM stays fixed, each pixel unnaturally sharp in the darkness of your bedroom. The air feels wrongâcharged, like the moment before lightning strikes. The usual ambient sounds of your apartment building have ceased: no hum of electricity, no distant footsteps, no whisper of the heating system.
That's when you notice him.
He stands at the foot of your bed, a figure cut from darker shadows. Male, approximately 175cm, black clothing, pale skin. His posture suggests military trainingâweight evenly distributed, hands relaxed at his sides but ready to move. He's watching you with an expression you can't quite process: recognition layered with something that looks disturbingly like resignation.
Your body's reaction makes no logical sense.
Instead of fear or shock, you feel an inexplicable pull of familiarity. Your muscles relax rather than tense. Your right hand twitches, as if reaching for somethingâor someoneâit expects to find.
"You weren't supposed to wake up." His voice carries no surprise, only weary confirmation. The words resonate at a frequency that makes your temples throb.
You know this voice.
You've never heard it before.
"Temporal anomaly detected at 01:59:00 AM," you find yourself saying, the words automatic yet foreign on your tongue. "Subject appears to beâ"
"Agent Min Yoongi, Temporal Investigations." He cuts you off, his tone clipped. Professional. Wrong. "And you're about to have a very long hour, Monitor A-735."
The employee ID strikes something in your mindâa discordant note in an otherwise perfect sequence. You've never told him your designation. You haven't even started your new position at the Monitoring Center yet; orientation begins tomorrow.
"That's impossible," you say, falling back on data analysis. "The Chrono-Sync Network ensures perfect temporal alignment across all sectors. Temporal stasis of this magnitude would requireâ"
"Energy equivalent to powering the entire Eastern Seaboard for a year?" His lips twist into something that's not quite a smile. "The calculations are in your desk drawer. Third one down, behind the spare calibration tools you haven't bought yet."
You don't own a desk. You don't own calibration tools.
You know exactly which drawer he means.
The air crackles with increased static charge. Your skin prickles with electricity, and colors seem to sharpen beyond normal parameters. The taste of ozone grows stronger, mixing with something metallicâlike memory, if memory had a flavor.
"What is this?" You check your watch again: 01:59:00 AM. No change. "How are youâ"
"Get dressed," he interrupts, turning his back to you with practiced efficiency. "You have questions. I have approximately 58 minutes to answer some of them before they notice you're awake."
"They?"
"The Erasure Bureau." He says it like he's reading from a script he's memorized too many times. "They'll be here soon. Standard response for newly awakened Outliers in your sector."
Your hands are already moving to your dresser, selecting clothes with mechanical precision. The motion feels rehearsed, like muscle memory you shouldn't have. "I don'tâ"
"You're right-handed but you'll reach for the left drawer first," he says, still facing away. "You'll pick the black shirt because it's practical for temporal work. You'll grab the jacket even though it's warm because the temperature drops three degrees during the 25th hour. You'll put your hair up because you hate how it staticizes when time stops."
You freeze, left hand extended toward the drawer he indicated, right hand already moving to gather your hair.
"How do youâ"
"We have 56 minutes left." His voice catches on the number. "And you'll need at least 10 of those to process the existence of the 25th hour without trying to rationalize it as a quantum irregularity or temporal feedback loop."
You're already forming hypotheses about quantum irregularities and temporal feedback loops.
"Stop thinking like an analyst," he says, and for a moment, his professional tone cracks. "Just... get dressed, Noma."
The nickname hits you like temporal whiplash. Your heart stutters, a arrhythmia that has nothing to do with the stopped time.
"What did you call me?"
"54 minutes." He checks a watch he isn't wearing. "And they're already tracking the temporal disturbance. We need to move."
You get dressed because it's logical, because it's protocol, because your body seems to know what to do even if your mind is still calculating impossibilities. The fabric raises static electricity when you pull it on, tiny sparks in the frozen air.
"Where are we going?" You check your watch again: 01:59:00 AM. The endless minute stretches out before you, an hour that shouldn't exist.
"To show you what happens when you wake up in the 25th hour." He finally turns back, and something flickers in his eyesâa flash of gold in the frozen time.
The word 'again' echoes in your mind like feedback from a temporal loop. You follow him because it's illogical, because it breaks protocol, because your body seems to remember steps it's never taken.
You have 53 minutes until time resumes.
You donât have many more until the Erasure Bureau arrives.
You have no idea how many times you've done this before.

The frozen streets of Boston stretch out before you like a temporal photograph.
Your analytical mind automatically begins cataloging the anomalies: a taxi suspended mid-turn, its wheels hovering millimeters above the asphalt. Steam from a manhole caught in crystalline suspension. A woman frozen mid-stride, her scarf defying gravity in an arc that shouldn't maintain its shape.
"47 minutes," Agent Min announces without checking any visible timepiece. The hair hair on your arms rise despite the winter cold. His movements are too precise as he leads you through the frozen cityâsteps calculated, like he's walked this exact path countless times before.
You follow, mentally mapping your route. Third Street. Left on Harrison. Your usual path toâ
"The coffee shop?" You stop at the familiar storefront. The neon sign flickers oddly in the frozen time, casting strange shadows that shouldn't exist when time isn't moving. "Why are weâ"
"Look inside." His voice is carefully neutral, but there's something beneath it. Something like resignation. "Tell me what you see."
The window should be dark at 1:59 AM. Instead, warm light spills onto the frozen street. Through the glass, you can see the interior exactly as it always is during business hoursâexcept completely still, caught between moments.
Except...
"That's my laptop." The words come out wrong, too quiet. "But I didn'tâI was at home when time stopped. I haven't been here sinceâ"
You press closer to the window. The laptop sits open at your usual table, surrounded by papers covered in equations you don't remember writing. A half-finished iced americano sits beside it, condensation frozen mid-drip.
"You ordered that drink six hours ago," Agent Min says. "In a timeline that no longer exists."
Your nose starts bleeding.
He hands you a black handkerchief before you even register the metallic taste. The fabric is worn soft, like it's been used for this exact purpose many times before. Your fingers fold it automatically into a familiar shape you shouldn't know.
"Look at the napkin under your coffee," he continues, his voice steady despite the way his hands clench at his sides. Like he's stopping himself from reaching toward you. "Read what you wrote."
You squint through the window.
There, in your handwriting:
1:59 am â Temporal overlap detected in sector 7
Time displacement: 3.7 seconds
Cause: unknown
Note to self: Ask Min about the golden traces
"I didn't write that," you say, even as your head pounds with the ghost of a memory. "I've never even been here at night. The shop closes atâ"
"Ten PM. Except during the 25th hour." Agent Min's reflection in the window looks tired. Ancient. "You've written that same note seventeen times. In seventeen different timelines."
The static in the air intensifies. Your Chrono-Sync Watch remains frozen at 01:59:00, but you swear you can feel time trying to move around you, like waves breaking against a stone.
"What golden traces?" Your voice sounds distant to your own ears.
Instead of answering, Agent Min reaches toward the window. Where his fingers touch the glass, faint golden lines appearâlike time itself is bending around his touch.
"44 minutes," he says softly. "That's how long we have before time resumes and they come looking for you. Again."
"Who?"
"I told you." He pulls his hand back, but the golden traces linger. "They detected your temporal signature the moment you woke up. The Erasure Bureau will be at your apartment by 2:03 AM."
You should argue. Should point out that temporal signatures are theoretical, that the Erasure Bureau is just an urban legend whispered about in the break room.
Instead, you find yourself asking:
"How many times have they found me?"
His not-quite-smile holds centuries of grief.
âToo many to count. But this timeâ" He stops himself, jaw clenching. "This time we're going to do things differently."
"Different how?"
He checks the time you can't see. "41 minutes. Long enough to show you how to hide from them, if you're willing to trust me."
You look back at the windowâat the evidence of a life you don't remember living, at equations that make your head spin with almost-recognition. At the golden traces slowly fading from the glass.
"Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice." He sounds like he's quoting someone. Maybe you. "That's why they keep trying to erase you."
Through the window, you can see other details now. A jacket you lost months ago hanging on your chair. A phone charging that you could swear is in your pocket. A notebook open to a page where you've written a single sentence over and over:
Don't trust CHRONOS. Trust Min. He remembers.
He remembers.
He remembers.
He remembers.
Your head pounds at the words. Your watch stays frozen. And somehow, you know with absolute certainty that you've lived this moment before.
"40 minutes," Agent Min says quietly. "What's it going to be?"
You nod, the motion sending another drop of blood onto the handkerchief. The equation written there blursâor maybe that's just your vision swimming.
Agent Min exhales sharply, the sound carrying years of frustration. His hand rakes through his hairâa gesture that seems both foreign and achingly familiar.
âAlways with theâ" He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. "39 minutes. We're behind schedule. Again."
His fingers wrap around your wrist with almost clinical precision, careful to grip over your sleeve rather than skin. The minimal contact sends a jolt through your systemânot just static electricity, but something deeper.
Your pulse jumps 7 beats per minute. His skin runs exactly 2.3 degrees warmer than human standard.
"Agent Min, the physical contact protocol clearly statesâ"
"Your temporal signature is spiking," he interrupts, voice a tad strained, already pulling you away from the coffee shop window. "The contact stabilizes the frequency. Unless you want them detecting you from three sectors away?"
You want to argue, to cite regulation 47.3 about unauthorized temporal stabilization.
Instead, you find yourself analyzing the precise way his fingers align with your radius and ulnaâperfect placement for optimal temporal resonance.
Like he's done this exact thing countless times before.
"38 minutes," he says, pace increasing. "Your cognitive processing is about to spike. Try not to fight it this time."
"This tiâ" The word fragments as another wave of vertigo hits. The frozen street blurs, overlapping with other versions of itself. You see phantom footprints in the snow that hasn't fallen yet, traces of paths you haven't walked.
Your analytical mind tries to catalogue the impossibilities:
Temperature dropping 3.1 degrees.
Static charge increasing exponentially.
Colors shifting 0.7 nanometers toward ultraviolet.
Agent Min's grip adjusting exactly 0.4 seconds before you stumble.
"The temporal density isâ" You start, clinging to mathematics as reality fractures around you.
"âincreasing exponentially with proximity to the source," he finishes, that not-quite-smile returning. "You always say that. Right before youâ"
Your knees buckle. His free hand is already there, still avoiding skin contact but steadying you nevertheless. The contact doubles the intensity of the memory bleed:
«A different night. The same grip on your wrist. Numbers burning behind your eyes as you realize what CHRONOS really is. His voice, urgent: "A-735, we need to move. They're coming.»
"Stop fighting the cognitive loop," Agent Min says, his current voice overlapping with the echo. "Your temporal resistance is too high. It's going toâ"
Your nose starts bleeding again. Figures.
He mutters something that sounds like "stubborn" in a tone that carries too much history. His thumb shifts against your wrist over the fabric, pressing into a point that makes the vertigo recede slightly.
"36 minutes," he says, voice clipped. "We need to get you underground before the next memory hits. Your calculations were right, by the way."
"What calculations?"
"The ones you're about to remember." He changes direction, leading you down a narrow alley you've never seen before. Yet your feet know exactly where to step. "The ones that got you erased last time."
The static in the air thickens. Your Chrono-Sync Watch remains frozen at 01:59:00, but you swear you can feel time trying to writhe around you, like a living thing in pain.
"Agent Min," you say, focusing on protocol to keep your mind from fracturing further. "Where exactly are weâ"
"Noma, please."
The words slip out, too soft, too familiar.
Imperceptibly, he stiffens.
Then he corrects himself. "A-735. We're going to the one place CHRONOS can't monitor properly. Try not to pass out this time."
This time. Always this time.
Your head pounds with equations you haven't written yet, theories you haven't proven, memories you can't possibly have.
The only constant is his grip on your wrist, warm and certain, like an anchor in a temporal storm.
35 minutes left.
The numbers feel like a countdown.
You're not sure to what.ââââââââââââââââ

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© jungkoode 2025
no reposts, translations, or adaptations
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HELLOOO I'M BACK ok ok remember how I said in Jax's analysis that the zapping scene could actually have a lot of information into it?? Let me elaborate:
There are two things that mainly caught my attention in that scene:
1 - How the lightning bolts that come out of the collar are yellow
2- How the shock is really quick (literally just a snap)
"Oh that must be just a stylistic choice right? don't look too deep into it-" WRONG!!!
In the Jax's Doodles, when Caine bites down Jax's head, we can see that he started bleeding in black. Why can I affirm that his blood really is black and it's not just because the comic is in grayscale?
For this reason:
During the Teatre Shenanigans, though it was all an act, it's implied that Ragatha does bleed in red, since, you know, the color is there, and because if it was any other color Pomni might have not believed it.
Also, let's be real, Gangle would not mess up something as simple as someone's blood color - her plays need to be >perfect< I love her so much omg
Still using the Theatre Shenanigans doodles as information, but with the addition of the new comic of Pomni taking the shortest stick, we can see through Gangle's ribbons that if there are colors that are portrayed, even when the comics are in black and white, those colors are red and yellow, so if his blood was actually red, it would've been painted as such.
So with that in mind we can pretty much say that his blood is, in fact, black.
As we can see in the part 2 of the neck pieces, his speaking bubbles are also in black and white, and, through an ask made some time ago, it was confirmed that he can only see in grayscale, and that's the reason why Gangle is the one in charge of coloring his animations.
EVERYTHING, literally EVERYTHING about Jax is monochromatic, grayscale, black and white, 50 shades of gr- you got it. He is NOT supposed to be associated with any color AT ALL
And that really highlights how out of place are the yellow bolts that come out of his collar. Jax is not supposed to have any type of color. The shock emitted from his neckpiece does not match with the way his level is supposed to be, doesn't match with his room, his character, his code, but why would that be??
Is there the chance that the chain wasn't his original collar? It does make sense if you look at some of the theories, especially regarding Kinger's role in the bigger picture. In the Imgur image, Kinger does mention to Queenie that he found a code that could free everyone from their collars, but, the main catch here, is that he could NOT disable it after it was done.
Well, we know that he did disabled it, and as a consequence, Queenie abstracted soon after
After it happened, Kinger probably was really desperate to put the collars back on the other AIs, he didn't want his friends to have the same fate his wife had,
But he couldn't disable the code that took them off, so what could he do now??
Simple answer:
He created a new code, so there could be new collars
That ties up with the ask answered with "it's hard to put a chain on someone if they have a scarf on", Jax's chain was probably not part of his design originally, it was not made for him, it was not part of his code in the first place,
Pure speculation, but this might be why Jax's supposedly new collar doesn't follow in every aspect the whole monochromatic idea that his design was meant to have. The yellow lightnings stand out because Kinger probably didn't put a lot of effort into the new collars, he didn't make sure that they matched with the quirks and characteristics already coded into the characters, as he was too desperate to put them back on and just made the code as quickly as he could.
At most he just made the neckpieces blend in with the AIs designs, so they wouldn't stand out. They just match at a superficial level.
(funny part is that Jax probably didn't even notice the yellow coming out of his collar, he can't see colors đ).
This is why I imagine that his original design never had a chain to begin with, both because of this information, AND, because in Jax's room, we can see him wearing the scarf in the ripped out poster.
Was the scarf supposed to be his original neckpiece? But why would he still wear it after everyone had taken theirs off (as seen in the restarting scene, in the same comic)? To be honest I think he just liked how it looked, he did seem to have a fashion sense back then.
But, by that theory, of the chains not being his actual design, he has also chains on his feet, was his whole design altered?? Why would it be?? I still don't have any clue on why, gotta wait a little for more information.
I like to think that his current design reflects on his character, being a prisoner of both the game and his mind, and quite literally stuck in the past, being unable to move forward.
OK Now for the second part of the analysis
Remember my comment, saying that the shock he received was really quick? That stood out to me because during Ragatha's reset, when she also received the shock to avoid her abstraction, her shock was actually longer than his, being a "ZPPPPPP" instead of a "SNAP". Something I've also noticed is that both times when Jax got shocked, it seemed to be at a less intensity then when Raghata was, because there was a difference in line thickness and size of the lightning bolts shown.
After Jax's restart, in his room, we can see three centipedes, that's the most bugs we've ever seen in the same room until now, since we had only seen a single ladybug in Ragatha's garden, right after her reset.
Ok, so, I did talk a little about how Kinger might be the one responsible for the collars, and I also made an ask this one time to know if he was using the bugs as a way to keep an eye on the others (that was me!!! Hi!!)
If you pay attention to the relationships between the cast, we can see that Ragatha and Kinger are actually pretty close. They trust each other, while Jax seems to have a rocky relationship with everyone.
That might be the reason why there were more bugs than usual in Jax's room, because Kinger doesn't trust him and is aware of his rebellious nature, so he must feel the need to supervise him to a higher extent when compared to others.
Besides that, while Ragatha is really unstable, she doesn't seem to need to restart that frequently, therefore it's possible that only a small shock is able to make her restart. Jax, on the other hand, has already been shown being shocked twice, both with a bigger intensity than seen with Rags.
I believe that if Kinger truly was the one responsible for the collars, he also must have set the potency of the shocks in a way that it was only used the intensity necessary to reset them, so they didn't need to suffer more than needed.
Since Jax does behave in a more erratic manner when compared to the other AIs, the potency of the collar must have been set in a way that it would be able to restart him as quickly as possible, which means it must be in a higher setting,
On the other hand, Raghata probably needs less power for her to reset, because, while unstable, she's not as rebellious as him, so her settings are lower. In the comic used as a reference, however, she is shown to be extremely stressed, so for her to restart it might have been needed for the shock to be at a higher intensity.
Since her collar is not programmed to give such strong shocks, the solution found was for it to last longer, at least in that moment. That can also be the reason why Kinger appeared in the loading screen, because he got worried with the possibility of the collar not being able to stop her from abstraction, so he went to check on her.
That's everything for now!!! It did take lot of work to transcribe the stuff from the theory board to here (it's pretty disorganized ashuhuash) ,but I think I managed to express most of my analysis/theory!!
-carol
CAROL WHEN I CATCH YOU CAROL- DHLJKHKSJGH
I ADORED THIS SO MUCH- HDKJH i want you to know that I was reading it all in Matpat's voice which made it so much cooler "omg guys a Gametheorist made a theory about me hhehehe"
saving this.. SAVING THIS.. CAROL YOU ARE A GIFT= HXCKJSKA definitely gonna read this again.............
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I'm gonna rank all the enemies of Ultrakill cuz I'm bored.
Btw I am a noob and played only on harmless
Filth - 10/10
Nice goobers, basically walking french fries. I can never get mad at them, because how could I be mad at my best healers in this game? They are really cute and are pretty nice. I give them big hug after they take a bite of me! :3 (One punch them for fuel because damn that mouth might've as well ate me as a whole)
Stray -8/10
A bit annoying, considering they get to stand and shoot fireballs at me and move their asses from time to time. Luckily, they're too slow and suck at aiming unless I stand in one place. Great fuel and quite noticeable throughout the game (Until 7 layer, these babies are so similar looking to these fuck ass mannequins)
Schism - 6/10
Strays but upgrade I guess. Too much attitude backed up with unnecessary annyoing ability to live after charged blue shot. Hard to swallow pill. Although they have a noticeable for some reason butt. Idk why but okay?
Soldier - 5/10
That fucking bird that I hate. Would be a nice food, if it wouldn't kick me across the country. Ew.
Stalker - 7/10
Literally don't care about this.
Sisyphean Inssurectionist - 8/10
A tad bit irritating creature, always pushing me on the hot burning sand but it is fun to jump around. Reminded me of an old game on my playground where you stand on edges of sandbox and in the middle of it there is a "Shark" (kid that lost in rock, paper, scissors). This creature is a shark and well, no wonder it lost. I would too if I would only pick rock! Lol loser
Ferryman - 7/10
He was lightning, before the thunder. Confusing bone martial art master that goes up on some building, trying to strike me down with lightning. The dissaperance trick was fun, until I jumped out in the water, thinking he was hiding from me there. I died. Not cool killing me like that, dude. Be fair. Play nice.
Malicious Face - 8/10
Again, this flying fuck pisses me off, but it's a great healing thingy that needs only 100 nails (usually) to fall dead. Although, it is a shame it has to spit in me with fire. Nasty. I'm not into that kind of thing.
Cerberus - 5/10
I'm pretty sure Cerberus is a dog with three heads from Greek myhtology, so no idea why this overgrown football player has that name. This NFL fanatic throws his stupid ball at me and takis his big boy steps to get me, but I'm faster, this is when he stomps angrily instead of communicating his issues with me. Smartest man-looking creature that enjoys any games with ball. Fun to disrespect, not fun when he throws me away like he'd throw a deodorant if someone would offer him that.
Hideous Mass - 8/10
Perhaps hideous, but gives great piggy rides. Nice lobster, but I don't like seafood. Nothing more.
Idol - 5/10
Doesn't even hurt me, but god did you really have to put my food in zipper plastic bags so I couldn't eat them? (Puts some protection spell on other enemies, most often Virtue) Low blow.
Mannequin - 0/10
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!! FUCK AHHGHGHHGHGGH I HOPE YOU AND ALL YOUR SPECIES DIE OUT LIKE A PATHETIC COCKROACH IMMITATORS YOU ARE!!!!! Scary, creepy, hard, fast? That is supposed to me. I am the war machine that sends horror in souls and their non-existent hearts. You fucking fucks, stayed out till 7th layer to make my life difficult. I better not see your asses anymore!!!! You all will be executed on the spot. I hope you know that you are an unwanted creatures, a poor imitation of anything and you deserve nothing but to rot behind closed doors, posed in worst yoga posses you can imagine. DIE!!!!
Swordsmachine - 10/10
It may be hard to beat, but idc. I love it. So pretty, so beautiful, so fashionate. Oh wow. I missedyou, sweetheart, missed this robot from the 1st layer, been thinking about their glorious attacks and cute rushing to hit me with their arm. Had to pause a game because they were just so... so... mwah.
Drone - 7/10
One eyed poor Shockwave parody. Go boom and kill all your brothers around you, loser. Doesn't even heal and explodes.
Streetcleaner - 9/10
Just one point away because they set me on fire and that's not really nice. But overall great bots, really sweet and they sound soooo cuteee. WAHHHHHH I WANNA KISS AND HUG THEM SO BAD!!! They deserve a big hug you people!!! (Swordsmachine got some competition)
Mindflayer - 7,5/10
Pesky cyan plastic-metal woman. Okay, you teleport, okay, you shoot blue faces that haunt me until they hit the wall (why would you inspirate mannequins like that), we got it. But dying with exploding yourself after I hit you twice with taser? A bit dramatic. Somehow slay, and somehow go fuck yourself, no need to be such a hard target, just stay still, will you?
Sentry - 5/10
I don't like them, but I don't hate them.
Gutterman - 2/10
Fat ass metal discord mod harassing my innocent poor soul. Kicks me across the galaxy, doesn't heal, have a stupid shield (okay cap america enjoyer) but it won't protect you from me. I will still fry these assholes with my taser. Womp womp, die faster.
Guttertank 0/10
Annoying stupid fucking huge discord mod's brother that got mad. CRY ME A RIVER (full of blood so I could use it as a fuel) AND DIE!!!
Virtue - 9/10
Nice healing thingy that explodes, thanks man, but stop trying to destroy me with holy light. It's not difficult to dodge, I'm just lazy and would prefer if I didn't have to do much with beating common enemies.
V2 - 10/10
I love this guy. So silly. So goofy. Hard to fight because that's a literal copycat of me, but hey!!! They're fun and that is all that matters (get coin in the face goofball). Got me a good arm to deal with Discord mods and another good arm to swing around like Spiderman.. But I miss the guy, they died because of me and it's so sad that I won't see them again đ
The Corpse of King Minos - 10/10
Dapped up this guy so hard he died and healed my scoliosis. Hope he heals his brainworms wizards with fireballs that popped out of his eyes. I don't want that much eye contact buddy.
Gabriel - 10/10
Aside of his obvious attractiveness, a really fun guy!! I beat his ass, he got fired by upper angels and was supposed to die in 24hr unless he kills me (deadline is for real DEADline here), we fight again, I win, he has a moment of realisation, goes and kills his epmloyers, all upper angels, that stupid Council and then shows the beheaded to the public. Awesome. THE GOAT (greatest of them all) fr fr. We love you Gabriel
Leviathan - 5/10
I don't like sea food, I don't like baby faces. But fight wasn't that hard.
Minotaur - 3/10
Why the hell is he chasing me on my train?! Go touch some grass or smth idk
1000-THR Defense System - 7/10
Fun, easy, but confusing. Yet not exciting.
1000-THR Earthmover - 1/10
It was sickening and depressing to fight this Evangelion boss. So many parkour, stupid pests, scary heights I had to go through, no, jump through. But the last cry of this metal creature? Healed me better than anything.
Flesh Prison ?-10
has goofy ahh loking mouth (im not feeding you) no pic doesnt deserve it
Minos Prime - 3/10
Not gonna fight this guy cuz I no no wanna. Besides, this isn't transformers, you are not a prime, you look like a long lost father of The Spot from spiderverse, unserious and unneeded use of "thy" (ok medieval grandpa), bet you are no fun.
Flesh Panopticon - 0/10
what are you. why are you.
SIsyphus Prime - 4/10
Agai, this is not transphormers, but he has a fun voiceline so I'll allow his existence I guess
#ultrakill#lina blogs#v1#v2#archangel gabriel#minos prime#swordsmachine#mindflayer#sisyphus prime#earthmover#ferryman#malicious face ultrakill#schism ultrakill#filth ultrakill#streetcleaner ultrakill#leviathan ultrakill
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No Good Choices (WIP) - Rook/Lucanis
I posted a bit of this earlier in a reblog, but I actually have a lot more of it written. Will it eventually be a long-fic? Idk. But I'm still gonna write it!
Btw this is My Rook.
(Spoilers for The Decision in act 1)
Lucanis practically sprinted back to Treviso the moment Harding told him about the dragon. Of course heâd pleaded for Rookâs help, but he never actually expected her to show up. Minrathous was her home. The Shadow Dragons were her family, much like the Crows were his. He expected to face the dragon with the remaining assassins and either defeat it, or die trying.
So, when Rook brought Davrin and his pet griffon, armed to the teeth to help lead the charge, he couldnât help feeling shocked. Happy, and eternally grateful sheâd listened to his reasoning, but still shocked to his core when he realized they might actually have a chance.
After they drove off the ice-breathing monstrosity, Rook barely stopped to take stock of the battle before rushing back to the eluvian, determined to help Minrathous as well.
Lucanis only stayed to make sure the Crows had everything under control, before he took off to follow her. Contract or not, the least he could do was help her protect her home.
After what sheâd done for himâ for Trevisoâ he was fairly certain he would follow Rook directly into the Black City if she asked.
âŠ
The second dragon attack left blight tendrils pierced through entire buildings. Countless innocent bystanders lied sick, or dying, in the streets. Even the Viper himself had been Blightedâ an unfortunate consequence of taking on one of Ghilan'nain's monsters.
It wasn't lost on Lucanis that Treviso would have suffered the same fate if Rook hadnât shown up to help. As he wandered through the streets in search of her, he silently vowed to do anything he could to pay her back.
Lucanis eventually found her with Neve and the other Shadows. Or at least, whoever was left of them.
âThis is your city too,â Neve snarled. âI thought you⊠never mind.â she added, with a defeated sigh.
âIâm sorry. I thought I could be faster.â Rook answered. âI always planned to help Minrathous, but I couldnât be in two places at once. If Treviso had-â
âTreviso?â Neve interrupted. âDonât you mean Lucanis?â
Lucanis stopped in his tracks before either of them could notice.
âWhat?â Rook asked, verbalizing his own thoughts. âWhat are you talking about?â
âRook, Iâm not blind. Can you honestly say he wasnât a part of your decision?â
âHey, I made the call because someone had to.â Rook argued. âDonât make it sound like this was easy.â
Neve wasn't convinced. âYou knew the Venatori would take advantage of an opportunity like this. You made the Crow a priority because youâre sweet on him, and look what happened.â she added, gesturing to the devastation surrounding them.
Stunned by the mere suggestion, Lucanis waited for Rook to correct her. It couldnât be true. Why would Rook sacrifice a chance to help her own city, just for him?
âNeve⊠I-â Rook began, but when she opened her mouth to respond, nothing came out. Her hesitation was enough to cement any of Neveâs doubts.
âIâm going to be here a while.â She turned away, preparing to aid some of the other injured Shadows. âYou should go.â
The pain in Rook's expression as Neve walked away was enough to shatter his heart. Neither of them deserved this.
Before Lucanis could make his way towards Rook, Tarquin wasted no time in taking Neveâs place.
âYouâve been nothing but trouble since you came back.â He spat. âHalf of us are dead, and the Venatori are coming for the rest.â
Lucanis had seen Rook slice through three Venatori with a single lightning bolt, stare down a blighted dragon, and taunt a risen elven god without even breaking a sweat. But under the scrutiny of a single Templar, all she could do was stare at the ground.
He witnessed the slow shift in her expression as shame and guilt gave way to rage.
âIf it were up to the Shadows, I never would have come back at all! You were the ones who sent me into hiding, remember?â
âBecause youâre more trouble than youâre worth.â Tarquin stepped closer, looking poised to strike at any moment.
âIf I'm so much trouble, then why did you need me here so badly?â
âYou know damn well we needed the help. I thought you were trying to make up for Nessus, not make everything worse. So much for putting the cause first.â
Lucanis felt the demon itching to weigh in. Spite fought for control to step between her and Tarquin.
âHe. Will not. Hurt Rook.â
On this, they were in agreement.
Rook did a double-take when she noticed Lucanis appear at her side, staring daggers into the Templar. Her surprise quickly morphed back into the stern expression she wore when giving orders to the team.
Tarquin simply rolled his eyes at his intrusion, no longer interested in anything Rook had to say.
âRook?â Lucanis asked, looking for her advice on how to proceed.
âGo find the others.â She said, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. âIâll meet you back at the Lighthouse.â
#dragon age the veilguard#dragon age veilguard#datv spoilers#dragon age lucanis#lucanis dellamorte#dragon age rook#lucanis x rook#my rook is enby but uses any pronouns#this fic uses she/her
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I'm just really fixated on Halbrand and Galadriel at the moment. Like, specifically on what first draws these two together. Disregarding their larger motivations and political positions in the story, what keeps the energy between them going? I kind of talked about this in a previous post where I dumped my thoughts on what Halbrand meant to Galadriel, but now I'm thinking it goes deeper than psychology.
In terms of surface-level feelings that could have strengthened their connection, I think you could classify their situation as 'she fell first, he fell harder'. We know that Galadriel consistently fixates on Halbrand in the first season initially for her cause. All the moments they have afterwards become blocks on that foundation of her faith in him. Halbrand's interest in Galadriel is much more subtle and ambiguous on why he stays attached to her but we can assume that rather than building off the image he already had of her, Galadriel gradually becomes someone new to him. Someone he could surprisingly relate to and understand as much as still use. We do have confirmation by their charged talk in the woods in S1E7(i think?) that at some point he'd come to value her enough to surprise himself. In some sense, I think there wasn't one single moment that these two experienced which created their attachment but rather multiple, especially for Halbrand. BUT!!! Their brief period of Something (whatever you want to call it) in the first season doesn't really answer what keeps these two hooked in a 'cosmic connection' nor what first established it.
Say what you will, I think we can establish the first instance of their cosmic connection in use to be during the raft scene.

[image depicts Halbrand looking at Galadriel, clearly overwhelmed.]

[image depicts Halbrand reaching out to take Galadriel's hand just before lightning would strike their raft midstorm]

[Both on the raft lit by upcoming lightning strike]
There was no connection between them before this point. To summarize their interactions in S1E2 before this, Galadriel plays an unintentional bitchy counterpart to Halbrand's sobstory/manipulations. There was nothing tying these two together outside of circumstance, and Halbrand's interest in being able to use a high elf. There's no emotional ties here!! So the complete 180° turn this scene takes immediately stands out. In the middle of pure chaos that threatens the both of them, Halbrand turns and listens to Galadriel. As she calls for his hand and to bind himself to her, he stops tying the raft together and just looks at her. Then in a super distant shot meant to frame a bolt of lightning coming down upon them on the raft, we see the blurry figure of Halbrand reaching for Galadriel. It's at this moment that their connection is either concieved or made apparent I think, the two of them together in the lightning's strike before Galadriel is dragged down with the mast. Do you think Sauron noticed or was he just as lost in the moment? Too bad Galadriel's unconscious lol.
The pure magnetization between these two-- it isn't inherently based on the emotional connection between Sauron and Galadriel. No way, I mean lightning???? Call it coincidence but this is Tolkien country were playing in!! Their connection doesn't linger in season 2 out of memory for 'what could have been'. Instead, their dynamic remains just as brazen and intense, if more unstable. These two were forged together with arguably the most volatile element in nature and if that doesn't summarize the both of them I don't know what does lmfao.
I know I started this to ask what keeps these two cosmically connected but I haven't really found an answer I liked. What does lightning symbolize? Is it nature itself that pushes them together, their own natures causing them to recognize eachother is aberrations? If anyone has an idea, pls let me know.
#galadriel#halbrand#the rings of power#sauron#amazon rings of power#not meet-cute but meet-primal#what's that one artform#where nature is suposed to be sublime and terrifying?
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