#like by guy is secretly in turmoil but hes healing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neteyamb · 11 months

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ashes to ashes: chapter seven

pairing: loak x f!omatikaya reader

summary: as a healer, y/n had taken an oath to treat every patient with their best interests in mind. this hadn’t been a problem, until loak’s petty injuries become a routine. she has to swallow her pride and feign concern, feign kindness, and face the ugly hate that has been brewing between them for years.

tags: enemies to lovers, pining, best friend kiri, language, emotionally constipated loak, awkward loak, smut, they're literally obsessed with eachother, mentions of jealous loak if you read between the lines, mdni

word count: 3k

notes: since chapter one both characters have been written to be 19+ years of age. also this cold has me acting like a victorian child on my deathbed in the throes of a mild ailment. Also idk how to write smut so make of this what u will xoxo gossip girl

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

billie bossa nova

love when it makes you lose your bearings / it might be more of an obsession / you better lock your phone / and look at me when you're alone / won't take a lot to get you goin' / i'm sorry if it's torture though / that heavy breathin' on the floor / i’m yours, i'm yours

nova – a star that suddenly increases its light output tremendously and then fades away to its former obscurity

you force your heart to steady, trying in vain to remain level-headed as loak’s breath fans your face. your eyes follow his lips as he speaks and stay trained on them well after they still. he smells faintly of pine and ember, and in that moment you were able to place why such a specific scent had always been your favourite. he had wedged his way into your life uncompromisingly, but you found yourself relying on him being there; right there, infront of you.

the adrenaline that had shot up his spine earlier was taken in stride, and he was drinking you in like you were the only person who could provide it. suddenly, he ripped his eyes off of you. this was becoming too friendly, too familiar, and it reminded him of the consequences. loak smiles halfheartedly and offers you a hand up, albeit a little more jumpy than he wished to present himself.

the spar was repeated several times before kiri’s muted swears were heard through dense bush. “what the fuck, you guys? you missed lunch,” her voice stuttered when her eyes fell on your face. you were smiling and at ease. in loak’s presence. she was taken aback for a second before putting her hands on her hips, satisfied as if the good-natured environment was her doing. “and why are you in the middle of buttfuck nowhere? let’s go.” she made a mental note to prod you with questions later.

✶✶✶✶

over the next few days, loak and you fell into a pattern of early morning training sessions. the dawn crept into the sky just as the two of you crept into the forest, eyes still bleary and unfocused. maiya had caught onto the new trend, and secretly approved. she thought loak to be a good and upstanding boy; he was preparing you to heal navi warriors directly on the battlefield, which she couldn’t deny was a sorely missed position over the years.

she smiled quietly to herself as you worked alongside her in the healing hut. you were covered in small scratches, but your shoulders were calm and you hummed a miscellaneous tune quietly to yourself. no more teeth grinding, no more shaky hands. still, she couldn't see the turmoil brewing in your chest all the same.

you were hunched over a small plate of teylu when loak shuffled into the hut, tinted rouge with spattered blood on his torso. he grunts a hello, making himself known to you and maiya. you frowned at his battered cheekbone, moving him towards the counter. he wasn’t speaking much, only leaning down to let you pat a wet cloth gently on his cheek. you often found yourself communicating wordlessly with him as of recent; it had proven itself handy when approaching a delicate pray.

as you wipe the wound, you realize that the blood isn’t his own; there is no gash, no tear nor scratch in the flesh. loak’s eyes remain locked on the crowded counter. when his mouth is shut, he appears more reserved, unsure of himself. he felt almost ashamed to have found his way back to this place after so many nights spent with sweat slicking his back and heated pants leaving his mouth as a shaky hand found its way under his sheets, you in mind, but a few odd hours every morning just wasn’t cutting it anymore. he had always been greedy when it came to you. you don’t say anything about his undamaged skin, aware of maiya’s heavy eyes on the interaction.

her thin lips parted, despite the united prayers that they would remain shut. “you have become quite good friends. never thought i’d live to see the day,” she announced. you fight to keep your hands steady against his cheek as you reply, knowing she’d retaliate with examples if you didn’t. “i guess you could say that.” at this point it would be weird not to consider loak a friend, but the label rang sour in your ears, and when you agreed with her claim you could feel him bite his cheek. “i’m glad. you two were always so similar.” loak had never actually spoken all that much to maiya, but he got the sense that she knew more of him than he had willingly revealed. he was almost sure she was teasing him like one would a rabbit with a carrot.

after a few minutes of wiping away at unscathed skin, maiya exited the hut in search of her own lunch. loak knew you weren’t a fool, the blood obviously wasn’t his. he could see that you had noticed it the second you began treating him. he braced himself for you to snatch your cupped hands away from his face and confront him with sharp words, but even after she had left you made no move; instead clenching your jaw and quietly dipping the cloth in water as you continued to work.

maybe he had gotten into a fight with someone who was left in worse condition, maybe he had been hunting, you didn’t know to whom the blood belonged. for now, you devoted your energy to ignoring the sticky warmth that was pooling in your abdomen at his proximity. progress had been made between loak and yourself over the week, and his steady breaths become more familiar than his unlevel, angry ones. as you wrung the cloth and brought it this time to loak’s chest, his ears fluttered and his breathing pattern became arbitrary.

you straighten your back, realizing he was probably uncomfortable with how you had been hunched towards him. even after allowing him space, his face was a bit more flushed than usual. was he sick? you frowned, beginning to think that the bloody appearance was a red herring.

loak was not doing good. he made a mistake by coming here. really, he could have just washed himself off in half the time, but he wasn’t thinking with his head when he approached you. to be fair, he knew it was a slow day and it’s not like there were half-dead warriors lined up outside the hut, but he was in way over his head. it wasn’t necessarily intentional to get in a fight with that guy. he didn’t even know his name, only recognizing him as the injured navi from his last visit here. it was in poor taste, but he had hoped his natural recklessness would provide an excuse to visit you; it could’ve been read as an accident borne of poor depth perception.

loak winced at the thought, it didn’t even sound convincing to him. at this, you backed up. “what, does it sting? because i know you’re not hurt.” point taken. “you caught me. it was a test,” he laughs dryly. you rest your weight back on the balls of your feet, huffing a small laugh. “wow, you’ve got the time for that? i haven’t been working you hard enough.” loak’s shoulders relax, now settling into the lazy conversation that he had gotten accustomed to having with you. he leans back on his hands, muscles shifting under his stomach. “hmm. you’ve gotta try harder than that, sevin.” the word slipped past his lips quicker than he could catch it, and his abs tensed in apprehension of your reaction.

you squint a little at him before abruptly throwing your head back and barking a laugh. his throat bobs as he watches the gentle movements in your own, repressing the urge to touch it with either his mouth or hands. he can’t do it. he’s simply not brave enough. or stupid enough. loak neglects the want clenching in his chest, instead continuing the conversation until maiya returns with her own plate of teylu.

✶✶✶✶

you were a little embarrassed how much loak’s nickname had an effect on you. it had caught you by surprise and played itself on repeat in your head of its own volition, heating your cheeks. as you walked alongside him under the sunrise, you were vigilant about maintaining a casual tone. still, you couldn’t help but stare at his back when he walked slightly ahead of you towards what had become your usual spot.

his braid swayed lightly with his steps, and his shoulders held a light sheen from the humidity of the woods. yes, he had kissed you before, but it was your understanding that it was to be mean. over the years you had found anger to be a natural pretense to excitement. it was as if the two of you had been egging eachother on until somebody broke, leaving the other to admit to defeat when giving in. the ultimate upper hand.

both of you had agreed it was a good morning for a spar. you found it to be a more natural way to work things out with eachother. neither of you acknowledged the fact that he was supposed to be teaching you how to hunt; you felt as if you were almost hunting eachother to a point that the lines had become blurred. and loak couldn’t deny your progress. after only a few attempts, you had him virtually smashed into the soft forest floor.

your knee was pressed into his chest and your hands were enclosed around each of his arms, comically petite against his biceps. he silently cursed himself for having taught you how to properly keep someone pinned down. his chin raised defiantly, eyes meeting your own vivid ones. your eyes looked completely predatorial, as they often did when you were sparring seriously with him. loak arched his back, commanding his head upwards as if he hadn’t just been completely demolished by you both in the lesson and in his scattered mind.

you give yourself a minute for your breath to even out, keeping your eyes trained on him all the while. you felt particularly proud of yourself for finally being able to keep him flush against the dirt, and it left your bones jittery. your mind felt melted and far away from your body; you watched a seemingly different person slowly loosen their hold and trail their fingers on his cool skin only the few inches that an accidental brush could provide. your eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated on him. slowly, loak sat up, cautiously touching your hips with light hands and bringing you to rest on his lap. it took a monstrous amount of restraint to do so gently.

his fingertips itched towards your body, stuttering and unsure. he was holding his breath, expecting you to chastise him at any given moment while silently begging for your approval. you were beginning to understand his expression, blatantly wearing the same heated proclamation of yearning on your own face. your earlier confidence had quickly left you sober and vulnerable under his hungry eyes. you desperately grasp for a last-minute escape, heart twisting as he began rubbing circles into your hips. "loak. you're being mean," you whisper, almost so quietly that you weren't sure he had heard it. it wasn't fair, how he held your heart in his hands. he pressed his lips into a thin line, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and following it with his eyes. "i'm not." so much time had been wasted fighting when it really just boiled down to a plea for the briefest touch.

he keeps his lips pursed, occupying himself with the hair he had just brushed out of your face. his eyes were locked on yours expectantly while his fingers fiddled with the ends. you tightly nod, once, and his restraint was gone. he sighs, shaky hands twisting into the hair at the base of your neck as he brings his lips up towards yours. his solid chest melted into your soft one, and he wasted no time before rolling his tongue into your mouth. you found yourself eager for his touch, bringing your hips down to move against his frantically while he bucked up with mirrored urgency. as his hands tugged at your hair and chestpiece, yours relentlessly clawed at his loincloth. this time, there were no conflicting thoughts in your mind, only a carnivorous want. hadn't you waited long enough?

loak let out a broken gasp in your ear as you removed him from his loincloth, gripping his base firmly before drifting upwards at an agonizingly slow pace, spreading precum over the tip of his cock. it was experimental, but you could gather that he appreciated it when his slender fingers began to stumble drunkenly against your breasts. loak's mind was in a frenzy, manically devouring your every action with a newfound alertness and obsessing over the feeling of your body against his. he didn't know it was possible to want something so bad.

this was sufficiently ruining every wet dream he had ever had of you. now that he had you here, very bluntly handling his cock between your thighs, he wasn't ever going to let you leave. it was overwhelming, and loak suddenly felt overheated under your warm body. he earnestly pushed you against the ground, now towering over your figure. his mind was on autopilot at the sight of your blownout lips and bare chest. "sevin, sevin, sevin," he growled against your neck, arms wrapped around your waist. "you're not getting away this time. please." he almost sounded like he was in pain, too lazy to remove his lips from your neck as he slurred the words. you caged his torso with your thighs, trying fruitlessly to meet his midsection again. you went to great lengths to pant out, "i wasn't–wasn't planning on it."

loak moaned lowly against your collarbone, the sound vibrating throughout your whole body. he licked a stripe from there to your right breast before sucking the budded nipple into his mouth, shamelessly rutting into the ground at your string of moans. he wasn't a gentleman about it; leaving spit and bite marks there before dragging his lips to your left. loak's heavy fingertips travelled down your stomach and pushed your loincloth forcefully to the side, pressing the pad of his thumb into your clit in taunting, slow circles. he couldn't deny himself the opportunity to watch your face. his eyes were dazed, but he swore he wouldn't forget the way your brows knitted and your lips parted as he brushed a finger against your entrance. loak let out a light breath, lips lilting into a cheeky smile before finding yours.

"keep your eyes open, sevin. or i'll stop." an obvious bluff, but you weren't willing to risk it. your lashes fluttered against his cheek as your slick tongue greeted his once more. you were both so drunk on eachother that the kiss was mostly just you moaning into eachother's mouths. despite his present euphoria, loak was not a patient man. he decided he had waited enough. he plunged two fingers inside of you, pumping slowly, dark eyes trained on your reaction. he knew you better than you had given him credit for; words were scarcely necessary, and piecing together a sentence right now seemed insurmountable.

his fingers were much longer and thicker than your own, and as he waited for you to adjust he pressed up against your walls with maddening pressure, tongue lazily licking into your mouth. you were essentially at your breaking point, and give always implied take. your hands blindly groped at his chest, indiscreetly tumbling downwards to his hips. given the awkward angle, you had to put all your strength into pulling him towards you. the swollen tip of his cock bumped against your inner thigh, and he detached his lips from yours with a string of saliva following along. "fuck!" he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut. he rested his forehead on your chest, groaning quietly and burying his fingers deeper in you. loak curled them upwards and began massaging the spot before adding a third one. in response, you dug your nails into his shoulders and came with his name on your lips like a prayer.

suddenly, loak ripped his fingers out of you, sliding them down to sloppily grip at your thigh for a moment to stabilize himself. he may have been seeing double at this point. you gasped at the emptiness, and your eyes began to swell with frustration. his shaky arms shielded your face from the forest, selfishly keeping you for his eyes only. loaks eyes were dark and devouring, and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to restrain himself from coming right in that moment. "i want all of you, y/n. let me have you." a wet laugh tumbled past your lips, hands moving upwards to rest on the nape of his neck. "rock my world." it wasn't perfect; your voice cracked from its seldom usage, and the joke was dry, but you were smiling all toothy at him and your honeyed eyes were filled with trust.

with little warning, loak pressed his entire cock into you, not stopping when he bottomed out. his hips were clumsy and stuttered, and the pace he had set was brutal, but it seemed to be right up your alley. your breasts jumped with each thrust, and he had a hard grip on your waist, pulling you down. it was unforgivable, how little you were able to control. half-conscious, you claw at his back and whined into his neck.

loak pressed into you four or five times before you were spent, and there were two more before he was in the same position. he frequented gorey battlefields, often stood between flying bullets and his own village, but to him the biggest challenge was ripping himself out of your heat before coming on your abdomen.

your glazed eyes cleared first, mind quickly catching up to what had happened in the past several minutes. when you gently brushed your fingertips against loak's ribs, he obediently turned to face you. you could see his brain shortcircuiting. and it was then that you decided you weren't that gracious of a woman. you were selfish, greedy, and uncharitable when it came to him.

"same time next week?"

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

notes: nobody read my diary this is private 📸📸📸📸

taglist: @weasleytwinwheezes @mrslandryy @amortencjja @tallulah477 @optimisticblazetrash

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chalky · 3 years

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Consider The Following: Badlands Recovery Arc

Let me explain.

::this is all roleplay, no hate to ccs. TW! for mentioned abuse and trauma. also sorry, it’s a bit long ::

Tommy, Tubbo, and Quackity are all they have left of their old home, leaving them with nowhere to go, right? You cannot convince me that Sam will see these two homeless, heartbroken child soldiers and their traumatized friend and won’t just hand them pumpkin pie and offer them a room in his base. He’s (probably) not going to let these exhausted, emotionally drained outcasts go hungry in the cold. And, if anyone is best suited to help these guys through their immense amounts of inner turmoil, it’s definitely Awesamdude (and Badboyhalo tbh).

Give me Sam and Tubbo building more farms and red stone machines and modernizing the land around Sam’s base, creating their own personal paradise free from politics and conflict. Just the two having fun while Tubbo recovers from the stress of leadership and the horrors he experienced. Tubbo’s been so beaten down by people in recent streams, he could use someone he truly cares about encouraging and supporting him.

Give me Sam guiding Tommy through his feelings and doing his best to aid his healing from the trauma done by Dream. Sam engaging in harmless pranks with him but showing Tommy where to draw boundaries while still being able to have fun. Show Tommy the value of relationships with people and the world instead of material objects. Tommy seems to have issues on keeping himself in line and keeping an eye on what’s truly important, and Sam is so chill and gives such good advice, I think he’d make an excellent mentor.

Give me Sam and Quackity just staying up late at night, talking about all that’s happened and all of the weird feelings Quackity has had as of late (I am still convinced he’s possessed), and Sam shows him genuine concern and also helps him work through it all. Quackity tagging along with Sam to any Badlands endeavors, annoying Bad and Ant while amusing Sam and Skeppy at the same time. Quackity seems to feel a great deal of rage and is dealing with some confusing, violent tendencies and I feel like he needs someone calm and compassionate to check in on him and help him work through his anger.

And then after weeks of bonding and healing, give me Dreams ultimatum of “throw them in the prison or I’ll take away their last lives” and Sam having to imprison these boys who have gone through so much and he cares about them so much. Bad, Skeppy, and Ant being devastated seeing how wrecked Sam is to throw his boys in jail, while also being sad as they had slowly but surely found those three chaotic gremlins more and more endearing over time. Then give me Sam, Skeppy, Bad, and Ant secretly helping the three L’manburg boys escape through hints and key cards and whatever else they can give without raising suspicion from Dream.

In the end, all I’m asking for is Badlands supremacy, a slightly more escapable prison, a Sam character arc, and therapy for the L’manburg boys.

:: This is just a fun thought, will probably never happen, and this is probably OOC but oh well. ::

#dream smp #dsmp #badlands #tommyinnit #tubbo #quackity #awesamdude #badboyhalo #antfrost #skeppy #for the love of god give these dudes some therapy and time to heal #give these kids a mentor that won’t sell their soul to satan for a corn chip

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potionboy3 · 2 years

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► basics:

Full Name: Declan Rian Narciso Rovere

Birthday: December 5th, 1996

Pronouns: He/him

Sexual Orientation: Bi

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Blood Status: Pureblood

Nationality: English

Personality type: ENTP

► personality: Declan is charismatic and has a witty sense of humour. People usually divide between thinking he’s a self-absorbed snob or thinking that he’s a generous and helpful guy. He’s mostly polite to everyone but picky of his company and inner circle. People tend to question his relationship with Cassandra because of the way she presents herself, thinking Declan is too good for her which really isn’t the case. He has a different, colder side, clearer to people closer to him. He can be neglecting and careless with other people’s feelings. Declan has a hard time letting people in, as he’s scared of showing weakness. He doesn’t share much of his personal life or thoughts to anyone. He mostly lives life on the edge and often makes decisions on a whim, not considering how they affect others in his life. He sees testing his own limits as a fun game. Declan seems to be always searching for something more and is not easily satisfied. You might consider him a bit narcissistic. Being wealthy for the most of his life he has also grown to be very vain and obsessed with his looks and clothes and surroundings.

► magical info:

Wand: Hawthorn wood with unicorn hair Hawthorn makes a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death. Hawthorn wands may be particularly suited to healing magic, but they are also adept at curses, and it has been generally observed that the hawthorn wand seems most at home with a conflicted nature, or with a witch or wizard passing through a period of turmoil"

Patronus: Fox

Patronus Memory: His mother telling him that they’re leaving for an adventure (just the two of them) while tugging him in bed. She was arrested the next day.

Boggart: Person being tortured.

Specialized/Favourite Spells: Likes to trap his opponent before attacking so they won’t be able to strike first. While dulling, his weakness is being cornered as he likes spells that can be used from distance. He doesn’t have any specific favorite spells but he’s surprisingly skilled with Crucio considering his fear of torture.

► background:

Place of Birth: St Mungo’s, London

Home: His father has a big flat in London for the two of them.

Pre-Hogwarts:

Declan was born to his parents Vita Rovere and Cieran O'Connor after their quick marriage during the Second Wizarding War. Vita’s family was wealthy while Cieran was short on money. Cieran was power hungry and worked in the politics dreaming of changing the world. The Rovere's didn't approve the relationship and Vita didn’t stay in touch with them during Declan’s childhood. She didn’t even tell them about having a child.

After the war Vita was arrested for the crimes of her family during the war. Cieran was horrified finding out about the crimes of the Roveres. He made sure Declan knew that her mother was wrongly accused. After the arrest Cieran became obsessed with saving his wife. Vita’s parents died while in the captivity. Cieran secretly arranged things so that all of their wealth was given to Declan. Vita died shortly after her family in unknown circumstances before Cieran had the chance to help her out. Cieran’s dream of changing the wizarding community was briefly tainted by the actions of his wife’s family. To achieve his dream he wanted to hide the truth about the Rovere’s faults from the rest of the world to protect his own reputation. He made it seem like Vita’s whole family were all victims and wrongly accused. After mother was gone Declan felt lonely growing up because his father was always busy with work. Declan took into enjoying the luxurious side of life, being wasteful with money. Cieran gained more followers in the politics and Declan loved the popularity his father’s reputation gave him as well. It made him a desirable friend and the gained popularity made him feel less lonely.

► physical;

Faceclaim: Louis Partridge

Eye Color: dark brown, almost black.

Hair Color: brown

Height: average

Younger: Julian Hilliard

Older: Xavier Samuel

► relatives:

Mother: Vita Valeria Rovere (1975-2005)

Vita's father family came from Italy and her mother was English. They were from the famous della Rovere line. Vita was a Slytherin while in Hogwarts but lied to Cieran about being a Gryffindor like him. During the second wizarding war the Roveres were given an opportunity to side with Voldemort. They took the chance, being afraid of losing their wealth and place in the world. Vita ran away with Cieran and married him and had Declan. She knew Cieran's views of the war and didn't let him know about the connections her family had. It took a few years for the Roveres to get caught with their involvement in the war but when that happened Vita was arrested with the rest of her family. She died in Azkaban when Declan was 5 from unknown causes. Declan has distant memories of her wanting to run away from the whole situation. Not just her side of the family but from her marriage to Cieran as well. Declan's third name is the name of Vita's father.

Faceclaim: Felicity Jones

Father: Cieran Ríoghán O'Connor (1965)

Cieran was born in Ireland and sorted into Gryffindor. He didn't come from a wealthy family but was always interested in politics. During the war he took part on fighting against Voldemort. He despised everything the Death Eaters stood for. He met Vita during the war and the two quickly eloped. He didn't ever plan on getting children but agreed to it because of Vita's wishes. He never expected to be left alone with raising his son.

During the years after the war Cieran made a name for himself with his political ideas and newfound wealth. His political agenda was strong and effective. During Declan’s seventh year (2014) he arranged a coup which led him becoming the minister of magic. His views were approved by a big part of the wizarding society, and he made big chance during his term.

Though a good politician, he is not the best father. After his gained fame, he wanted to protect Declan by going as far as teaching him to fight brutally if needed. He is often strict and cold towards Declan but overall does really love his son.

Cieran uses Declan mostly as a pawn for his own plans. Before his coup Cieran told the truth about the Rovere family to the public. Cieran claimed that he was fooled into the marriage with Declan's mother. People started to see Declan differently since before the Roveres were seen as martyrs. Declan’s reputation was changed. People began treating him like Daniel Pag. Cieran knew the consequences the truth would have on Declan but went on with it anyway for his on goal’s sake.

Faceclaim: Colin Farrell

► relationships;

Allegiances: Slytherin house, Rovere family,

Love Interests:

Cassandra Vole

Declan met Cassandra before school but only after arriving to Hogwarts the two became more associated with each other. At first, he wasn't fond of her choice of friends (the Frey twins) and didn't like the way she treated certain people (mc’s gang). Eventually the two bonded and became close friends. Cassandra was the first-person Declan felt connected with. She was interested in him besides his wealth and father. They started dating somewhere down the line but tended to break up and argue a lot. They love each other but often disagree. Even when they agree on something it usually turns into a competition between the two. Despite their problems, Declan adores Cassandra and can't stand it when someone dislikes her.

Faceclaim: Sophie Turner

Rowan “Roe” Malinda by @gaygryffindorgal

In a nutshell (will be updated at some point): Roe and Declan have shared a dorm since their first year but they hardly know each other. Things take a turn during their sixth year when they start a relationship which leads to Declan and Cassandra’s break up. Roe and Declan break up before their seventh year after Declan’s life gets complicated + Roe’s curse. During this time Declan bonds with Roe’s friend Daniel Page and the two become and item. After graduating they reconnect and get back together.

Faceclaim: Eren M. Güvercin

Profile

Daniel Page Daniel and Declan started to have romantic feelings for each other during their last year after Declan’s father announced the truth about the Rovere family and Declan was distanced from everyone. He and Daniel started to see eye to eye and it developed into a short relationship. Faceclaim: Nick Robinson

Friends Canon friends: Colby Frey

Colby and Declan are in a same friend group and get along. He and Cassandra get together after they graduate and Declan is happy for them. Faceclaim: Drew Starkey Fischer Frey

Fishcer and Declan have a very complicated relationship due to his feelings for Declan’s girlfriend Cassandra. They don’t much like each other but are still part of the same friend group. Declan doesn’t approve his later “thing” with Roe either. They became better friends in later life. (in my canon Fisher and Daniel also end up together so the two basically share all the love interests.) Faceclaim: Drew Starkey MC friends: Jupiter Durand by @cursed-herbalist Jupiter is Declans second cousin but the two didn’t know each other before they met in school. They became good friends were prefects at the same time.

Faceclaim: Benedetta Porcaroli

Nova Hartley by @gaygryffindorgal Nate MacKade , Finn MacKade, Thea Whitten, Jack Whitten all by @unfortunate-arrow Up for more!

Pets:

An owl called Cosimo Rivals: Fischer Frey

Enemies:

- He sees the Ministry of magic as a sort of enemy that should be corrected and rebuilt.

- Later on his father.

► misc;

Hobbies: Duelling, Dancing, Chess

Extracurriculars: Duelling club, Prefect

Favourite Subject: Charms

#hpma #hpma mc #harry potter magic awakened #hp oc #mine #declan rovere #character profile mine

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liron-ao3 · 2 years

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Suspicions

Castiel shakes out his umbrella in front of their door. Their. His tired face morphs into a smile. He's so happy that Dean decided to move in with him. They had worked together for so long, known each other like the back of their hands. What was there to think about when they finally got together?

He slips out of his wet shoes and shrugs out of his coat while listening to the noises coming from their living room. Dean must be watching a movie, the volume being very loud.

He walks into the room and furrows his brow. There is his boyfriend, sitting on the sofa playing a video game with another man while leaning heavily into the other's side. Castiel watches the scene in front of him for a long moment before he says, "Hello, Dean." Both men flinch in surprise.

Dean drives his car off a cliff before the stranger stops the game and gets off the sofa.

"Oh, hey, Cass. You're early," Dean welcomes him.

"I finished the Milton case. I didn't know we were expecting any guests. Who is this fine gentleman?" Castiel asks brusquely. He's about 99,9 per cent convinced that Dean wouldn't repeat what his ex did to him. It had been Dean, after all, who had swept up his broken pieces and glued them back together. But Castiel can't shake the fear, the scars on his soul still rigid.

Dean jumps off the sofa, oblivious to Castiel's inner turmoil. "Handsome young fella, isn't he?" He swats the guy on his butt as he rises. The man doesn't look amused.

Dean cups the back of Castiel's head and kisses him. He pulls back after a moment, missing his boyfriend's usual tenderness. "Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"Why is there a stranger in my living room?" Castiel asks, not letting the tall man out of his sight.

Dean's mouth falls open in surprise. "It's not what you think it is."

Castiel steps out of his embrace and folds his arms over his chest. "I've heard that sentence before."

Dean nods. "I know. But I'm sure it wasn't followed by 'Cass, meet my brother Sam'."

Castiel looks back to Dean, his cheeks turning crimson red. He screws up his face. "I'm sorry." He steps closer to Sam and stretches out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Sam. Dean has told me so many things about you."

Sam chuckles. "He's been moping for years over not having a snowball's chance in hell of making you fall in love with him. No complaints lately, though," he smirks.

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny," Dean says, but secretly, he’s loving having the two most important men in his life finally together in one room.

Castiel and Sam chuckle. "What brings you to this part of the world?" Castiel asks.

"Had a case in Kansas. Went quicker than I had anticipated, so I thought I'd surprise my brother."

"That's lovely," Castiel says.

"We made lasagna," Dean explains and swaggers to their kitchen.

***

Dean embraces Castiel from behind, looking at the two of them in the reflection of the mirror. "Are you okay, babe?" he asks and presses a kiss to Castiel's cheek.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry for not realising… I would never cheat on you. I'm not that kinda guy."

Castiel nods. "I know. This is my problem."

"You've been hurt. And you're healing. It's okay."

Castiel turns in his arms and slings his own around Dean's neck. He shakes his head. "I should've trusted you. And I do."

"I'm sure that time will help. I'll prove myself to you." Dean nudges Castiel's nose, eliciting a snicker. "There's no one I'd rather be with than you. Sammy didn't lie. I've loved you for such a long time. And I will love you for the rest of my life."

"I'll take your word for it," Castiel says and kisses Dean slowly, indulging in their bodies pressing against each other and their lips moving perfectly together.

"You've got way too many clothes on," Dean decides after a while.

"You, too," Castiel chuckles against his lips. "If we just knew a remedy for this unfortunate situation."

He yelps when Dean swipes him off his feet and carries him to their bed.

"You're lucky that I'm not only sexy but also very smart," Dean quips.

Castiel laughs out loud. "Prove it," he orders, and Dean is only too happy to oblige.

#human au #established relationship #misunderstandings #fluff #angst #happy ending #Destiel #Deancas #Destiel fandom #Deancas fandom #Destiel fic #Deancas fic #Destiel fanfic #Deancas fanfic #Destiel fanfiction #Deancas fanfiction #Destiel oneshot #Deancas oneshot

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dose-of-jellybean · 4 years

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XOXO Droplets Avatar!AU headcanons?

it has some spoilers.

Jb: You’d think that just because she’s the mc I’d make her the avatar, right? Hah! wrong. She’d be a firebender. Jb’s confidence and high spirit would be perfect to enlighten her inner flame.

She’d be one of the people that learned her bending at an early age, often training to improve those abilities. And showing off wink wink. During Aang's era she wouldn’t be involved for a long period, minding her own business in her village as to not attract firebenders to find out about her different views. At best she wouldn’t mind training the avatar to firebend if Zuko wasn’t available. Or help in battle if the situation ever occurred.

In the period of Korra she’d be raised in the fire nation and move out to republic city once she’s convinced her parents to live on her own. She’d discover the pro bending sports which quickly infatuated her making Jb strut her pretty legs to insist on the poor team that happens to lack a firebender teamplayer.

And if you think this gal won’t flirt with sappy fire puns then it’s a shame that we’d have to disagree while respectfully viewing each others opinion, reader.

Everett: This poor guy’s the only one who ends up bender-less in all timelines. He’d hope for something cool like firebending or earthbending since they have cool sub-skills like lighting generation and lava bending. Someone would want to tell him that the alterations in waterbending has double the alterations compared to either of them.

And you know what? He doesn’t care. He’s not interested in bending with body movements that “matches the motion of the waves”. Plus.. in his mind blood bending is kinda freaky. So fire or earth would be perfect fits in his mind! An element doesn’t need a lot of sub-skills to be cool after all.

Sucks that he didn’t end up with either in the end though. His mom as well as Lynn would reassure him that it could take some time for him to discover his powers since people are different. Nate would also be supportive but more in a “just because you have no bending powers doesn’t mean you get to slack off. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and get yourself together.” way. But in the end of the day through all of his frustration,struggle and insecurity I believe that he’ll be able to show off what his charmingly lame self is made of without any of that.

Nate: He’s a firebender. No one is really surprised but people tend to be wary of his bending and rage coming through at the same time. In a way the use of fire would be the way for Nate to release his inner turmoils. Problem is that down the line rage isn’t the most progressive method to fuel your strength.

Nate will eventually have to learn to redirect his energy once he’s older since eventually his power is going to be weakened due to stronger emotional control. Sadly, as much as I don’t want to leave it like this I can’t imagine the outcome of that scenario. Though, I bet he’s more content with himself in the end.

Shiloh: Who knows?

No but for real, Shiloh would probably be that one person that you wouldn’t be able to directly tell which nation he belongs to based on clothing and such. It’ll be a tougher time for any poor fellow who’d want to guess if he lived in Republic city too. Shya will always be known as that guy who people think have this power until something contradicts their theory. No one will know the answer. A true shame.

Bae: It’ll take a long while before Bae takes initiative to become a bender. In some cases he might not be one at all. That scenario would depend on leap of fate. Let’s say for example that Bae was traveling to the Northern Water Tribe. In that moment he’d be fascinated by the water benders ability to redirect energy from a body to heal a wound at an accelerating rate. He’d ask to be taught this technique much to the surprise of the female benders. Waterbending would be the most preferable one in his eyes. It’s kind of nice if you don’t fight with it and take your time mastering the soothing tai chi based moves after all.

Jeremy: Much to his dismay Jeremy is an earthbender. He discovered it that one time when he got fussy during an argument with someone. He kicked the ground in frustration and the earth rose up, traveling in a sporadic line as response. Jeremy didn’t expect this revelation. Both of his parents where non benders so he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint where he got it from.

Anyway, he’d rather forget all of it. There’s no point in learning earthbending in his mind, it’s better not to bother. Or at least that’s what he thought his plan was. Unfortunately someone discovered Jeremy’s newfound bending powers. They’d insist on making the push over train to enchanted his abilities.

Unfortunately for them Jeremy was much more of an effortless wimp than they initially thought. Jeremy would give an expected mopey line at the persons defeat. Until it hits them; the Kings runs a hobby shop, Jeremy is the handy one, he can metal bend! He’d then be insisted to find a mentor to teach him metal bending.

Of course He’d appear indifferent, but secretly Jeremy would be intrigued. However, he wouldn’t use his abilities in greater use. Instead his mental bending would be a tool for his crafting.

Pran: At first he wouldn’t bother to figure out which type of bending he could do. He’d sit somewhere alone from the others until someone pestered him about showing off what he can do since Pran seems like a tough guy based on his physical form. If he lived during the era that Aang lived he’d remain a non-bender being content in solely using his bare body strength to fight during the war.

But if was at the time when Korra’s the avatar he’d discover that he was one of the people that gained the ability of airbending. There would be jokes that someone like Pran isn’t suited for the “twinkle toe” type.

But despite the comments and his own stubbornness to detach himself from his new ability he’ll come to find that the air helps to channel his own energy. Pran’s fighting style is quick and aggressive, much like a fire bender.

But what airbending does that fire bending can’t is the ability to let his core strength out. He’d be pleasantly pleased with how far he’s reached. I doubt he’d be willing to be within the temples to become an air nomad because of the Kings. But when that conflict is resolved he ultimately decides to stay there for a couple of months until he’s decided where to go from here.

#XOXO Droplets #XOD #Headcanon #HC #Gb patch #JB #Everett Gray #Nate Lawson #Shiloh Fields #Bae pyoun #Jeremy King #Pran Taylor

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nervydamned · 4 years

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i don’t usually cry anymore. the medication and the crushing numbness that comes with 31 years of hard living and dead ends has created in me a cold grey stone, typically invulnerable to all but tragic movies and commercials that were obviously designed with surgical precision to ensure that at least a small portion of viewers will immediately log onto the website and purchase, like, boat insurance while crying so hard they can’t do the capcha on the first try. i used to be a dramatic cryer, responding to almost any intense emotion with deep and gusty sobs. then 2016 happened. i lost my father. my spiral into alcoholism intensified my incredible appetite for self destruction. the shame that ensued formed that grey stone like a grit of sand forms in an oyster-- slowly, slowly-- until the day i told my sister that i wasn’t sure i would ever laugh again.

so i sought treatment. fresh from admitting to my husband that i had 1) secretly relapsed and 2) repeatedly been unfaithful with some of the worst people, i put my phone number into a “need rehab?” webform. i received a call about three minutes later. scared out of my mind, i would have agreed to do basically anything to clear the dark menacing cloud of divorce. they said they had a pool! i wanted to go swimming! i wanted to be instantly forgiven for my transgressions, and rehab seemed the best way to me to demonstrate that by god, i was SERIOUS about this recovery thing! he said the only rehab i qualified for was in south bend, indiana. they would buy the ticket. could i leave tomorrow? i guess i could.

i showed up to a building that looked like a 90s middle school with a smoking porch. terrified out of my mind and drunk on the four pints of heineken i’d slammed at chili’s with a sympathetic bartender at 7am across from my boarding gate, and disoriented from the klonopin that i took almost subconsciously at any sign of emotional turmoil, i was a rag doll with button eyes. i entered, stripped, spread, and coughed. i vomited in the toilet while a girl with perfect cat-eye liner did her best to discreetly look away. i was there-- it was happening-- but WHAT was happening? all i knew was that rehab was like a shiny gold star on my behavior chart. if i did it, nobody could say i hadn’t.

rehab is the best place in the world for a vulnerable drunk. i mean it! you’ve never had more shoulders to cry on. i remember hysterically sobbing until my heaving shoulders locked up and the only sound i could make was tiny clicks from my frozen throat. i’ve never had my shoulders patted so authentically. it never occurred to me at the time that this display of raw, scream-it-to-the-heavens emotion was such a part of their daily lives as intake detox counselors that they probably could have done it in their sleep. but somehow they remained authentic.

the funniest part about the rehab was that it turned out to be run and staffed by die-hard scientologists! i guess we can get into that later.

rehab also brought out my “daddy please be proud of me” personality in full force. i joined the “peer counsel” which was essentially just in charge of taking nightly attendance and clapping for sobriety milestones. i befriended everybody, impressing them with my uniquely pretentious affectation of sarcastic intellectualism that only fools people less smart than i am. i was the queen of rehab! life was good! everyone there had forgiven me. the next step was me forgiving myself. the final step was my husband forgiving me. at the time, i still thought that was a completely realistic goal. all i can say to that, ineloquently enough, is: HAHAHAHAHAHA.

my husband came to visit me, once, on the sunday after easter. having practiced healthy communication and effective use of boundaries six hours a day for the last three weeks, i promised him that we could talk about anything he wanted in the two hours he spent with me on the grounds. he got there and shrugged his shoulders over and over again. determined to make his long drive worth the time, i enthusiastically dragged him around to meet all of my rehab friends, proudly introducing him as my husband to anyone who would listen. that day, i believed we had a chance. that night, i found out he spent half the drive home texting my phone, which was locked in a drawer in the rehab office, accusing me of ignoring him in favor of my friends and strongly implying that i was sleeping with at least one of them. this delusion continued for months after and may still fester in his brain. i just wanted him to meet the people who were helping shape my recovery. he could never see the point of that. he didn’t understand that to me, connection is such a fundamental part of who i am that i HAD to make friends there. all he saw was the potential for pain.

i nakedly vied for the approval of everyone around me to the point that my rehab friends petitioned for me to win “patient of the week” at my graduation. when i realized what they had done i was simultaneously flattered to my core and mortified. how obvious it must have been that i set this artificial award ceremony in motion?

my husband was late. he missed the whole thing. in the car ride home, i chain smoked cigarettes and listened to his music. i talked about finding my rehab friend jacob on facebook so that we could attend meetings together since he was the only one who lived close by, and he accused me of having an extramarital relationship with him. his evidence was that “i brought him up all the time!” jacob came out as gay six months after we graduated from the program. we never got a chance to be friends.

my whole family was waiting at my sister’s house to welcome me home; they were babysitting my son while my husband drove to pick me up. they were so proud! again, i felt raw and abashed. just more confirmation that everyone knew--everyone knew--everyone knew everything. my husband had made my infidelity no secret with his family, and of course i had told my mother and my sister.

being the family fuckup is like being naked under a microscope. like living your life in the invasive, creepy bodyscanner at the airport. well-wishes come with a tinge of pity; there is a frantic and all-too-apparent urge to avoid any conversation that might bring up my past transgressions. i’m used to it because i’ve been a drug addict since 2008. but coming back from rehab was the worst. there’s nothing like seeing what the future could be like-- bright, beautiful, beatific. the feeling of stepping out of a confessional booth and feeling the light on your face, reflected through the stained-glass window of the Virgin Mary and her son. but the comedown happens when you realize that the forgiveness you’ve given yourself stops with you. the crushing realization that your husband is either incapable of or unwilling to extend you the trust and forgiveness and freedom from shame that you’ve finally decided to give yourself makes you question everything.

i just don’t understand why he can’t admit that he doesn’t love me anymore. i’m glad i went to rehab. but now i know it wasn’t for him. i could give him anything in the world and i’d still be the adultress, the sly sociopath, the woman that enjoys torturing him with emotion and conflict. our relationship can’t ever work again and he won’t admit it because he’s scared to be alone. honestly, i’m starting to feel sorry for him. i know i could find some normie guy, one with an unkempt beard who makes that face-- you know that face! the nintendo switch face!-- in his twitter avi. he can quote every line from the office and he loves bar trivia, but makes sure to go to the bar and grab me a sparkling water before the beers arrive. he’s a bit boring, maybe not as smart as i am (or pretend to be), but he’s authentic, and he laughs at my jokes, and he always wants to know how my day went. he makes sure to find something thoughtful for christmas, and he sometimes goes out and gets my car detailed on the weekend because he knows how messy i am and how frantic it makes me when i have to face those messes. he has a group of friends who all like the same things he does and they hang out after work most tuesdays, but not when we have something to do at home.

but i know who i am and i know i am not fundamentally healed and i know i’d get bored and break his heart. and my husband would still be alone.

who even knows anymore? the status quo definitely has something going for it. i don’t have to apply for WIC or share a one bedroom apartment with my son or drive for Grubhub on the weekend to make sure i can afford peanut butter because that shit is expensive. we can sit, and sit, and then drift off to sleep and wake up in the same place that we were the day before. maybe i’m adapting to my husband’s sense that it’s better to just endure and stay quiet. i know that pattern because it’s how my family handled every bit of turmoil since i was a child. it’s never worked, but i guess it might someday!

this is my first blog post in 15 years. hopefully it won’t be my last.

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 7 years

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Break My Heart: Chapter 1 (A Solangelo Fanfiction)

Imagine you take your average “Three Days in the Infirmary” fic, and then add a twist. This would be your fic! And the twist is a prophetic dream that throws Will Solace into turmoil.

I hope you all enjoy!

Read on AO3

Preview:

“Okay, but in all seriousness. What are you going to do?” Cecil asked him, resting his chin on his hands. “Not all of us get dreams to give us forewarnings about the treacherous nature of the dating waters, so how will you use your newly acquired powers?”

“Well, since starting anything with Nico di Angelo obviously isn’t going to go anywhere, and I had no idea why, I…I guess I’m just not going to go for it. If I tried it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Will said as he waved off Cecil. “I mean, how hard could not falling for one boy be?”

It was a dream.

A caveat being that it wasn’t just a dream. Demigods, as Will Solace had learned early on, don’t just have casual viewing experiences. Especially if the demigod in question was a child of Apollo, who was indeed the god in charge of prophecy despite all of Apollo’s notoriously bad decision making. That didn’t mean that Will couldn’t have your run-of-the-mill weird trippy nonsensical dreams, or other dreams that tended to be inappropriate for young impressionable demigods. But that did mean that Will had to be able to tell the difference between the two, and the difference was always this: in regular dreams the scenery would be foggy, whereas the prophetic dreams were sharp, colorful, and loud.

And that was what this dream was; it was vivid, it was real, it was prophetic…it was about Nico di Angelo?

They were sitting together at the end of the dock, the autumn breeze crisp and clean as it flitted from the lake carrying with it the scent mist and strawberry. The sky was almost blindingly bright and blue, while the trees were just tinged with just a blush of color. Will turned to the boy next to him, noting his leather jacket and feeling a thrill that nearly set his heart on fire. The Will who was a part of this dream welcomed it, while he succumbed to his confusion.

“Will…I…” Nico was saying to him, looking up at him with eyes wide and…was that a blush staining his cheeks? And he looked healthier than any time that Will could ever remember Nico di Angelo being, his cheeks filled out, the dark bruises under his eyes only shading them, his hair pulled back in a little ponytail, and his skin had color to it versus the warmed-over-corpse white shade he had been on Half Blood Hill during the battle.

And Will was holding his hand (how had he not noticed that was beyond him, but somehow it felt natural, so natural), and Nico’s fingers were curled with his own instead judo-flipping him and killing him with a well-placed strike. On that note, why were his own nails painted?

“Am I…is this…alright?” Will’s mouth moved and asked, and Will could feel his own cheeks heat up in return. He was just wearing a flannel and jeans but he felt entirely too warm, as if he would explode from nerves. Nico didn’t move, something guarded in his expression, before he met Will’s gaze evenly. It was intense and dark, and Will could feel his stomach twist up in a hundred knots.

“Hey Will?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

Will woke up with a start, his heart racing in his chest. He felt like the rug had been pulled out from underneath him, he felt the sickening feeling in his stomach as if he had just missed a step on the stairs and his foot had fallen through the air, he felt the recoiling blow of rejection like a slap to the face. The dream was there, and he replayed it in his mind again and again as his heart rate fell, trying to parcel out some sense from it but finding nothing.

“What in the name of the Gods?” Will asked himself, before looking around his mostly empty cabin. Thankfully the younger kids were still asleep, not disturbed by his sudden outburst. Kayla and Austin were probably still in the infirmary with Roman children of Apollo who had accompanied the legion to Camp Half Blood. And it was still before dawn, probably too early for him to be getting up. But if Will was good at one thing, it was avoiding his own problems by helping to solve other people’s. And this dream was something he definitely wanted to avoid before being more awake to deal with it (or possibly never).

And so Will crossed the camp in the dark after throwing on some fresh clothes and a sweatshirt, and walked into the infirmary. Phoebe looked up from the desk at him in confusion. She was the leader of the Roman medics, and had been nice enough once they had gotten past the initial awkwardness. That awkwardness being attributed to an unfortunate relative of both of them named Octavian, and though Phoebe had definitely not been a fan of the guy, there was also the principle of the matter. Will supposed they both had inherited Apollo’s protective nature in the end, and death wasn’t easy for either of them. So they had mostly agreed to focus on their work, and leave everything else to fall as it would.

“You are here early,” Phoebe observed stately, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Anyone I can help?” Will asked, sitting himself up on the desk and looking through a chart. With his general level of sleep deprivation and dyslexia, he barely made any progress before the words began shifting on the page.

“You know that you should be sleeping, you need the rest,” Phoebe pointed out to him, running a hand through her hair.

“I had a weird dream is all, I’m not going to be falling back asleep anytime soon,” Will dismissed her, shoving the dream as far back as he could in his head for the moment.

“Well, if you must, check out Alicia’s leg, you know, the child of Mercury. She was awake and groaning about it earlier, but I also have a feeling she was trying to pickpocket Kayla and she isn’t awake enough to ward off attacks,” Phoebe told him with a huff, standing up to go to the coffee pot and pour him a cup with a splash of cream and sugar. She handed it to him, and Will smiled back gratefully before going to do just that.

Alicia’s leg was in good condition and healing well, and Will managed to avoid any wandering fingers. Ellis Wakefield’s broken ribs were on the mend, and Will knew that because Ellis could hiss out insults after being poked and prodded with minimal gasping. Lacey from Aphrodite was sleeping soundly and the cut on her forehead was looking fine, while Nyssa from Hephaestus’ fingers were looking much less swollen. And Suzuka Yamato, a Mars legacy, reported her head was feeling better by communicating with both him and Ellis Wakefield in a series of expletives in Japanese, Latin, and English.

He continued to do the rounds, scooting his tired siblings who had done the nightshift out of the infirmary to get some rest, and tugged at his sweatshirt’s sleeve absently. The sensation reminded him of what he was working so hard to avoid, and eventually he had to say something to someone.

“Hey, Phoebe, has Nico di Angelo come in at all?” Will asked Phoebe, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, as he returned to the desk with the excuse of making a fresh cup of coffee.

“You mean the son of Hades?” Phoebe asked, her eyebrows drawn. “I haven’t seen him. Why? Should I have?”

“Well…I told him to report to the infirmary for three days,” Will excused quickly. “I guess this means I have to go get him.”

“Well, I would rather you not die. I will talk to Chiron about it,” Phoebe said with a sniff. “I’m sure he’ll corral him and have a conversation about the importance of healing wounds.”

“Nico wouldn’t—“

Phoebe’s look was enough to get Will to do the smart thing and shut up. And maybe she had a point. After all, Nico had apparently been the one who would break up with him, so maybe the guy secretly hated him and would try to fight him if he approached. But that still didn’t mean that he should let Nico be injured, the more rational part of Will’s brain pointed out, and if they had at least had a thing or would have a thing then maybe Nico also liked him somewhat. (And Will had to admit, after the birthing and just running into the field of battle, he had been hopped up on adrenalin and had probably been more forceful then he had needed to be, and he had been previously hoping the days in the infirmary would give him a chance to apologize.) But the whole thing didn’t make any sense to begin with, Will tried to reason back. Everyone knew that Nico had had a crush on Annabeth Chase. Maybe Nico was bi? Maybe Will would have just been the unfortunate rebound. Or maybe Will had been making the moves on him and was about to be rejected—

Will’s head hurt, and he desperately needed council. So Will went to sit next to Cecil who was nursing a pulled tendon and a sprained ankle. He poked his very good friend awake, and like a true friend Cecil blinked awake, groaned, and then immediately turned over.

“Bro…no…just no…” Cecil groaned dramatically, trying to dig himself back under the covers like a bear attempting to return to hibernation. Will wasn’t having it.

“Cecil, please, I need to talk to someone I think I’m going crazy,” Will told him as he pulled off the covers, Cecil sat up to snatch them back and Will let them go.

“Yeah you have to be pretty freaking mental to be up so early, and making me be up so early!” Cecil snapped back, before seemingly giving in and laying back down. “Alright, alright, I’m awake. What do you need?”

“I had a dream, but it wasn’t just a dream it was a prophetic dream,” Will tried to explain before realizing that had not been an explanation and groaning.

“Okay? And? You get those sometimes right?”

“Well yeah…but this one was different…it…” Will trailed off before shifting uncomfortably. Cecil did not look amused by Will’s fidgeting and rolled his eyes as he reached over to swipe Will’s coffee.

“Alright Will, seriously spit it out—“

“Nico di Angelo was breaking up with me,” Will blurted out.

Cecil immediately choked and coughed out the liquid, and after getting through the worst of his coughing fit, Cecil stared at Will with something akin to disbelief as he set Will’s coffee back on the side table.

“You’re joking, that’s supposed to be funny right,” Cecil said as he wiped his face with his arm, and when seeing the suffering look on Will’s face he broke out into a grin, “wait you aren’t joking? Seriously? Damn Solace you’ve got so much game you see it ending before it even starts.”

“Okay seriously I’m having a moment so I would appreciate some concern,” Will groaned as he let his head fall into his hands. “You can at least pretend to be my actual friend.”

“Why would I do that when this is so much more fun,” Cecil noted before humming as he laid back against the pillows, “that’s crazy though, seriously.”

“I know, you’re telling me!” Will said as spun on his chair absently.

“And you are sure it was a prophecy, and not just some weird lucid dream?” Cecil asked seriously, a brow quirking in his favor. Will dismissed it with a glum shake of his head.

“Yeah, I can tell the difference. It was prophetic, very prophetic, with the sense of impending doom and everything,” Will explained nervously as he continued to spin, until he got dizzy and settled with nervously tapping his foot to the frantic rhythm of his panic instead.

“Well tell me what happened,” Cecil said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

And so he did, recounting the plot of dream, every little detail he remembered, and the state that he woke up in. Cecil hummed and nodded along, only interjecting once or twice for clarification. At the end, they both sat quietly for a moment, the infirmary coming to life as Roman demigods did their rounds. Cecil finally broke the silence,

“We’re pretty sure that Nico was breaking up with you. Or at least rejecting you. And the way you describe the dream…well…it sounds like it took place a few months from now. It had to at least be September or October-ish.”

“So what should I do?”

“Well, I don’t know. Do you like Nico di Angelo?” Cecil asked curiously without judgment.

“I…he’s cool, and heroic, and he’s pretty attractive. You saw him in the battle, and I do want to help him. But I don’t know, it’s hard to like like a person I don’t know. And I don’t really know him,” Will said in return with a noncommittal shrug.

“Apparently, you are going to get to know him pretty well,” Cecil pointed out and he flipped to laying on his stomach. “Well enough that you are going to start dating, or at least making moves on him.”

“Don’t be a douche,” Will told him with a sigh.

“Infamous last words,” Cecil noted as he lay back down completely. “Don’t worry there are way more fish in the sea.”

“What am I? Percy Jackson? I—at least get your leg elevated,” Will muttered as he pulled pillows from the side and helped Cecil get readjusted with a small piece of ambrosia, not bothering to address the implications of Cecil’s previous comment.

Will left Cecil’s bedside soon after that and Phoebe immediately looked towards him.

“Chiron’s going to bring Nico di Angelo in later,” Phoebe reported without any preface. “He said he was going to have words with him, so, let’s hope for the best.

“Alright,” Will said before putting on his best smile, which felt oddly placed. “Better get to work then.”

#Solangelo #Solangelo fanfiction #Will Solace #Nico di Angelo

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