Dragon Age Questions
I was tagged by @curiousartemis. Gonna throw this under a cut because I don’t know when to shut up (and there are a lot of questions in fairness).
01) favorite game of the series?
Probably Origins, although I will freely admit that may be partly nostalgia goggles talking. Also, the ending can die in a fire.
02) how did you discover Dragon Age?
I don’t actually remember. Probably my husband told me about it? I’d already played a bunch of Bioware games by then (Baldur’s Gate 2, Neverwinter Nights, Jade Empire) and played a lot of that kind of single-player RPG genre back then so I was part of the target audience I imagine, despite not being a fan of ‘gritty’ stuff generally or A Song of Ice and Fire in particular (which I had not heard of at that point.)
03) how many times you’ve played the games?
Origins twice (well, 1.9 times...I got to Landsmeet the second time with my Brosca and then threw my hands up in hopelessness because I don’t know what my second Warden would do...or to some extent I do but I don’t like it.) DA2 and Inquisition I’ve only played once. I started up what I thought was an intriguingly handsome elf mage in Inquisition to romance Dorian and when he got out of the character creator he looked like JD from Scrubs and I kind of lost my momentum at that point.
04) favorite race to play as?
Oddly, human. I gravitate towards elves, half-elves, or elf-adjacent races in a lot of games so I made my first Warden a Cousland to break the pattern (and ended up glad I did.) I do also like the dwarves a lot though.
05) favorite class?
Dagger rogue. Stabby stabby.
06) do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time.
Differently, to an extent (with the caveat that I haven’t replayed them much). For example I deliberately chose Bhelen over Harrowmont with my Brosca because it was the opposite of my choice with Cousland and because it fit quite well with her background, given the bit with her sister. She is generally more pragmatic and less idealistic than my Cousland so adheres less to the absolute straight and narrow paragon mould. That said, like Arty I don’t enjoy playing evil so I don’t imagine I’d ever defile the Urn and kill Leliana, or things like that.
07) go-to adventuring group?
DAO: Alistair, Wynne, Shale (I did use Leliana sometimes but she had a tendency to ignore the bow I wanted her to use and go into melee instead. Also I love Shale.)
DA2: Aveline <3, Varric, Fenris/Bethany/Anders depending on if I needed healing and who was going to go bananas about my decisions. -_-
DA:I: Cassandra, Varric, Dorian
08) which of your characters did you put the most thought into?
Uh...probably my Inquisitor Iris Trevelyan I guess, since I wrote that whole long cheesy fic about her? I did feel like the origin stories in Origins helped me build a good sense of who and what I wanted my Wardens to be though, so I have put a lot of thought into Laurel Cousland as well.
09) favorite romance?
Have enjoyed them all, but Alistair. *gross crying forever*
10) have you read any of the comics/books?
11) if you read them, which was your favorite book?
12) favorite DLCs?
Awakenings and Jaws of Hakkon, because Storvacker <3 <3 <3. I still need to finish Descent and Trespasser. Oh oh, and Shale ofc!
13) things that annoy you?
THE ORIGINS ENDING IS BULLHONKY, DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED
The reused maps with random block-offs in DA2. The fact you can’t investigate Leandra’s murder or get anyone else to help.
The meddling with PCs in later installments where you can’t control any of it (eg ‘the Warden leaves all their friends/family to go on some cockamamie quest to cure the Calling’, or ‘Hawke turns up at Skyhold without their friends/family and possibly dies’).
The Arishok ‘fight’ (aka pillar-kiting forever).
The way every Inquisitor looks when the Fade mark first activates. (And the lighting/textures in the character creator generally).
14) Orlais or Ferelden?
I mean...Ferelden I guess, because the Warden and Hawke are both Fereldan, and Orlais is portrayed as kinda...catty/snooty/rife with social inequality? Also I’ve been living in Britain for 18 years and that rubs off on you after awhile. (And yet I was a French major, once upon a time.)
15) Templars or Mages?
I’ve always sided with the mages as far as I can recall because the Templars as an organisation and usually as individuals have been pretty horrible. They abuse their own people with lyrium and are pretty prepared to leave them to rot (hi Samson), and waaaay too many of them are deliberately abusive to mages. I get why magic can pose a serious danger to mages and muggles alike but the Circles are an abusive system that had their day. I vote we try something like the Avvar do.
16) if you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?
Weirdly I was just thinking about this last night. Initially I thought they were all in the same universe for the most part, barring my Brosca (unless they’re somehow both wardens), but now I’m not so sure. It may work out better to separate them.
17) what did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)
My warden’s doggo is called Howl and Hawke’s is called Biscuit. I headcanon that after DA2 they hang out together (and possibly even have puppies). I don’t think I named any of the mounts, that I can remember, although I ought to have since Trevelyan was (in my story) the animal-loving daughter of a horse breeder.
18) have you installed any mods?
I don’t think I have? I did eventually install one or two to Origins for tweaks, like being able to change or reset the companions’ traits (since Brosca wanted to group with Zevran more and by the time you get him he’s made terrible life choices as far as traits go.) I might have used a couple ‘here’s some extra civilian clothes’ mods too, I can’t remember now.
19) did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?
Generally yes. Cousland was a warrior at heart and held great respect, even reverence, for the Wardens, and definitely couldn’t imagine just ending up as someone’s wife and a lady of the manor somewhere. The actual circumstances of her recruitment were nothing like she would have pictured and she was just too much in shock and grief at that point to really challenge it.
Brosca on the other hand would never really have considered it, or even thought about it, but was more than happy to take it as a way out of Dust Town (or worse) and the dead end she was facing in Orzammar.
I played through all the Origins and the only one who absolutely rejected the idea was Tabris (although Mahariel wasn’t overly keen either.)
20) Hawke’s personality?
Blue. Kinda wish I’d gone more purple as that seems to be the favorite.
21) did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?
22) if your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?
Cousland would try to save her family, at least some of them, no question. Hawke...probably similar - Leandra at least, she’d hunt down that serial killer as soon as she set foot in Kirkwall. Trevelyan would be tempted to skip out of Conclave and avoid being the Inquisitor at all, honestly, although I’m not sure she’d ever go through with it. Brosca wouldn’t really have time for that kind of ‘what if’ scenario, I think; what is, is, and you work with that.
23) do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?
Hahahaha yes. Strap in, kids.
Cousland exists in a weird existential limbo because according to how I played her she would not have done the Dark Ritual and would have taken Alistair along to tank the Archdemon and then he would have sacrificed himself and NO, STOP IT, ARE YOU KIDDING ME, NO, and then she becomes this cold, more ruthless leader who styles herself as Queen Bitch of Ferelden (because ‘dog lords’, and her heart is frozen now). But I hate that, so then I think, she leaves Alistair behind because she suspects he might make a grand gesture, and then she dies, and then NO, STOP IT, ARE YOU KIDDING ME, that precious, suffering child who was genuinely good and pure and kind and tried her damnedest to make the world a better place deserves so much better than that, and I cried for like a month. So, now we’re back to the Dark Ritual, and NO, STOP IT, ETC. but...yeah.
Given that Oghren becomes a Warden in Awakenings I often come back to the idea that he gets conscripted (or is so drunk he volunteers) before Denerim and then he has to do the Dark Ritual with Morrigan. Someone does, anyway. Conscript a whole bunch of people, it’s the end of the world, someone else can do it who isn’t fussed.
The whole Dark Ritual is aaargfhlaaargh (technical term) and it feels a million times worse for the choice to not be ‘do something sketchy or die’ but ‘make someone else do something sketchy or die’. I hate it a lot. And maybe it’s not even that sketchy (Cousland was Andrastean but not super-devout, and the Old Gods and elven magic are still such unknowns at this point) but it’s utterly against all of Alistair’s principles so (insert sound of me throwing a bunch of tables all over the place).
ANYWAY, regardless of how Schrodinger’s Warden Cousland and Alistair both survive, she does not make Alistair king on assurances she’ll be there to support him and then immediately piss off to parts unknown on a Quixotic quest, for Andraste’s sake.(!!!) (She stays and helps him like she said she would!! Otherwise they’d have just stayed Wardens! Honestly! But that would have led to another Horrible Decision so let’s not get into it!) Cousland and Alistair can’t and don’t have kids, but Fergus remarries and has some kids, and one of his kids (Bryce) marries a daughter of Delilah Howe and they take the throne after Alistair and Laurel, because what is line of succession, and anyway they’re my characters and I Do What I Want, try and stop me, copper.
Hawke warns Leandra about a friggin’ serial killer loose in town who preys on women like her, idk. Hawke does not ditch Fenris and little Lina to help the Inquisition - or rather, Fenris does not say ‘oh sure hon, go alone to some random dangerous place, I’ll just chill here for you.’ Hawke and Fenris (and maybe even Aveline and Donnic) take up Alistair’s offer and leave the festering hellmouth known as Kirkwall to help rebuild Lothering and hopefully get some bloody peace and quiet.
The Inquisitor either never goes to meet with the Qunari or, you know, walks the 20 feet over to the Chargers to not be put in that ridiculous Hobson’s choice.
And Cassandra ended up Divine in my game and I don’t hate that, but I would have preferred Leliana be Divine (she was un-hardened) because a) yay, peace and love and b) I low-key ship Cass and Varric so then she can do her ‘rebuild the Seekers into a non-evil, non-garbage force for good’ thing and still canoodle the dwarf on the side.
24) are any of your character(s) based on someone?
Not really? To some degree I suppose they’re all very, very idealised versions of me (Cousland more so than the others) but I’m in no way an action hero so, yeah.
25) who did you leave in the Fade?
Stroud. Thank any and all gods I had imported the save with Alistair as king. If I had to choose between him and Hawke I’d have thrown my computer out the window.
26) favorite mount?
I didn’t tend to use them much, because I’d stop for quests or to pick up yet another bit of elfroot or whatever. The only zone I used them more was Hissing Wastes since there were so many long empty distances in it, and in my mind Trevelyan was still trying to come to terms with what happened in the Fade at that time, and was dealing with her trauma by withdrawing from her friends a little bit. Pretty sure I generally just used the first horse you get from Dennet as it was a bay and I like the coloring (although the nuggalopes were kind of hilarious.)
Ok stop talking now Bear. Anyone who got all the way to the end of this, have a virtual cookie.
Tagging anyone and everyone, go nuts.
TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS + BREAKUPS
Includes: Miya Atsumu, Suna Rintarou
Tw: very heavy angst, cheating accusations, cheating mention, underaged drinking, mentions of violence, manic behavior, slight yandere themes, mention of car accident, slight mention of blood, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, slight nsfw mention
MIYA ATSUMU |
— The music was too loud, it was almost deafening but somehow, you still heard every word that fell from his lips as he screamed in your face, his wild eyes bloodshot and filled with rage as he slammed his hand against the wall behind you.
— You could feel his breath hot against your cheekbones, the strong scent of cheap liquor on his lips as he screamed at you, the veins in his neck bulging as you sobbed out his name in a desperate plea
— He was enraged, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arms as he shook you violently. Your ears were ringing as you stared at him with fearful eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks as you screamed at him, begged him to let you go
— He looked like a rabid dog, seething and practically foaming at the mouth as he bared his fangs and barked out words that could’ve torn you to shreds if he so pleased. They were vile, filled with so much hatred, so much loathing and disgust.
— “Yer such a fuckin’ lyin’ bitch, god I leave ya alone for five fuckin’ minutes and yer already all over some other guy?!”
— “Atsumu, please! It wasn’t like that I promise, just please stop! I didn’t do anything, I promise, I’m sorry!”
— How was is that just moments ago, you were sitting between his thighs on someone else’s couch, fingers tugging at his bleached hair as he left you breathless from an all too desperate kiss
— He had mumbled against your lips as he spoke, told you how he was going to go get his keys, that he needed to take you home so he could fuck you anywhere except for this fucking party
— But when he left your side, he didn’t expect to see you with someone else. Someone else who touched you in ways only he was allowed to.
— “Didn’t do nothin’?! The fuck you mean ya didn’t do anything?! Yer the one who let that fucker touch you! You understand that you belong to me, don’t you?! No one else!”
— This is why he never drank at parties, especially when you were there by his side. You always seemed to clear his hazy mind whenever he was drunk out of his mind, eyes half lidded as he would slump against your shoulder on the drive back home
— He always seemed to find himself losing control of himself whenever he decided to drink, his judgment was always clouded and hazy whenever he downed shot after shot
— You were always there though, always the one to keep his mind at ease when you stayed by his side, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned against your shoulder in a drunken stupor
— This time it was different. He should’ve listened to you when you told him to stop drinking, that he’d taken too many shots. But he didn’t.
— Now here you were standing in front of him, tears streaming down your face and mascara smeared underneath your eyes.
— “He literally just came up to me, I don’t even know him!”
— “Nah don’t gimme that shit, (Y/n)! You were all over him, you let him touch you, I fuckin’ saw everythin’!
— “What the hell are you talking about, Atsumu?! I pushed him off of me and I told him I had a boyfriend! I-I told him to stop, I told him to—please just calm down!”
— The moment Atsumu had left you alone, you felt someone’s lips against your neck and an arm sliding around your waist. You had gasped in shock and confusion and tried to slip away from the strangers grasp to no avail
— You shoved him off of you, yelling profanities at him as he drunkenly laughed and tugged at the strap of your dress only for Atsumu to walk back in, keys looped around his finger and a look of distraught on his face
— In his blind rage, he had grabbed you by the arm and slammed you against the wall before he lunged for the guy who’s hands were on you just moment ago, and he tackled him to the ground, fist already bruised from landing hit after hit
— This wasn��t the first time he’d laid a hand on you in drunken fit of rage.
— Had you been a fool to believe him when he’d say he would never let it happen again, never let himself get into another fight with another man over the simplest of gestures?
— He promised to never hurt you or yell at you ever again. That it would’ve been the last time he ever made you cry, ever made you scared of him
— He also promised to stop drinking
— “Calm down?!” He laughed “Ya want me to calm down after that shit you just pulled?!”
— You felt his hand on your shoulder as he pushed you back against the wall, his nostrils flared as his lips curled into a snarl
— You looked into his wild eyes, your hand pushing against his chest as he took a step forward and pressed himself against you, his forehead resting against yours as he returned your stare.
— “Am I not good enough for ya? Really? Is that it... You needed another guy to do what I couldn’t? You couldn’t just wait for me?!”
— You’re brows creased as you shook your head, cowering in fear upon hearing the softness in his voice . He had tears in his eyes despite the way he seethed, his breathing erratic and his brows still furrowed together
— “TELL ME (Y/N)!”
— His sudden outburst caused you to bring your hand up in defense, when he slammed his fist against the wall behind you, a pained sob leaving his lips as the drywall crumbled at his feet
— “AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH?! I TRIED SO HARD FOR YA (Y/N)! WAS I JUST NEVER ENOUGH? PLEASE, PLEASE JUST—“
— His behavior was sporadic and￼ violent, his delusions and insecurities opening the floodgates in his mind as his hands drew towards his blonde hair, tugging at the roots as he sobbed wide eyed and manic
— “(y/n), please, I try so hard for ya and I can’t— can’t let you go, I can’t!”
— Maybe it was the terrified look on your face that made him snap. Or maybe it was the way you cowered every time he raised his voice higher higher than sent him over the edge, but he knew he couldn’t let you just slip away from him.
— “Ya love me, right? Tell me ya love me, p-please...”
- His throat burned as tears streamed down his face, his hand clutching the fabric of his shirt where his heart would be. He felt like he was being suffocated.
— All of his insecurities came out like a riptide crashing against the shoreline in violent bursts. His hands were trembling as he reached for yours only for you to pull away from him.
— “Don’t touch me, get away from me!”
— The anger he possessed was no longer there, the only thing that remained was the pain his felt in his chest, the pain he’d felt the moment he saw another man touching you.
— He felt your hands pushing against his chest and he stumbled back, his eyes wide as he saw the look of panic in your eyes as you pushed past him.
— “Stop, no no no ya can’t go please— (y/n) don’t!”
— You ignored the way his voice cracked, his screams were panicked and distressed as he shoved someone out of his way so he could reach out for you.
— You opened the front door only to have Atsumu slam it shut, tears streaming down his face as he grabbed your shoulders, pleading with everything he had for you to stay
— “No no no, baby I can’t let ya leave, not like this! Please, (y/n), I’m so sorry please don’t go, don’t leave me please!”
— “I can fix this! I can fix— please angel, please don’t do this to me I can’t do this, I can’t lose you! I can’t!”
— He should’ve listened to you when you gently pulled the bottle away from his lips, a soft smile on your lips as you kissed him and told him he’d drank too much.
— He wanted to go back to when your hands were running through his hair, your soft lips against his as he held you against him. God, he’d do anything to have that back.
— “Please angel, just stay with me, please. I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry babygirl I never meant to hurt you. I’d never hurt you like that, I’m so sorry—“
— He should’ve listened to you when you begged him to stop, that he was scaring you. He didn’t mean it, he really didn’t mean to scare you.
— He never did, he never meant to scare you but he did every single time...
— “Just leave me alone, I can’t do this anymore.”
— He felt bile beginning to rise in his throat as he watched you begin to sob again, your eyes tired and body weak from fighting with him
— “Wait! Baby no no no, whaddya mean you can’t do this anymore?!”
— “We’re done. This is over, I can’t do this. Not right now at least. I just can’t be near you.”
— He snatches your wrist as you stepped outside, his footsteps heavy behind you as he tugged you back into his chest; sobbing your name like a mantra
— “No! No, listen to me baby, I’m so sorry. I won’t hurt you anymore, I promise baby girl. Please, you gotta trust me, please (y/n).”
— Panic began to set in and you began thrashing in his grip, his arms circling around your shoulders as he pulled you closer towards him in fear that you would take off
— “Atsumu, let go of me! Let go! Let go! Let go!”
— “Shhh, it’s okay, everythin’ is fine pretty girl. We’re gonna be fine. Yeah?”
— A trembling hand came to brush over your hair, your chest heaving in a frightened panic as his stared out into the barren street with bloodshot eyes blown wide
— You could feel his lips against your neck as he spoke mumbled words, manic and laced with delusion as he pulled you towards his car
— “Let’s just go home, yeah? Take you...home so we can...fix this fuckin’ mess I made. ‘M sorry Angel. ‘M so so sorry.”
— You flailed and kicked as he struggled to drag you towards the passenger side door in his drunken state, his footsteps faltered as he held you against him, attempting to pin your arms behind your back
— “Stop, you’re drunk, Atsumu let me go! Let me go, please! I don’t wanna go home!”
— He choked out a laugh, his cheek pressed against yours as he pushes you up against the passenger side door
— “‘M not drunk, just get in the car...’M gonna fix this shit like I always do...”
— “Atsumu, please! I’m begging you! You can’t do this right now, you’re drunk please just gimme the keys!”
— He opened the door, his hand clumsily coming up to grip the doorframe as he shoved you inside
— You pushed yourself up and kicked him, his hand snatching your ankle as he yanked you forwards, his left hand gripping your chin in the palm of his hand
— “Stop! You fuckin’ listen to me! ‘M takin ya home...we’re gonna fix this shit like we always do and you’re not goin’ anywhere. Ya understand me?”
— “‘Tsumu, baby,” you cried “gimme the keys, please. Please my love, give me the keys...”
— “N-No. Gonna leave me if I give ya the keys...” his voice was slurred as he spoke.
— Your hand came up to his cheek as he leaned into your touch, his cheek scalding against your palm as he looked at you with tired eyes
— “‘M not gonna leave, ‘m not...”
— You knew you needed to. You smiled as tears clouded your vision, your heart breaking the moment he slid against the doorframe
— “I’m yours, I always have been. Swear..”
— You knew you needed to leave him, but you just couldn’t. You loved him more than anyone. He has been your best friend, the person to mend you when you were falling apart and bursting at the seams
— You would ask yourself if all of that was worth the fear that he instilled in you from the moment he told you that you belonged to him.
— Truthfully, you feared what he’d do if you left
— “Promise me...promise me, (y/n).”
— “I’m not gonna leave you, I’m not...Please gimme the keys baby, I don’t want you to drive right now, okay? Gimme the keys.”
— He nodded his head incoherently before running a hand over his face before collapsing onto the asphalt, his eyes rolling back into their sockets as he blacked out.
— You let out a sigh and pushed yourself up from where you lay in the passenger seat, your face burying itself into the palms of your hands as you let out a heart wrenching sob. The pain you felt was excruciating, your loved him more than anything but you just knew that you couldn’t do this anymore
— Not with the way he held onto empty promises. It would never work, he’d never change
— you knew you had to leave him. But you couldn’t. Not when you’d been by his side like he’d been by yours. How humiliating. You’d always been there for him when he needed you and he did all the same.
— None of that mattered though, not when he’d scream at you, claim that you never once cared for him they way that he did for you
— To him, this is what love looked like. fighting with one another until the sun came up only to make ends meet once the sun set. ￼￼Screaming at each other until your throat began to bleed.
— Maybe that is what love was supposed to look like, fighting for one another, fighting just to be heard, to be seen. It’s a twisted logic, and it’s one that he convinced you was true.
SUNA RINTAROU |
— Suna took a sharp inhale through his nose, his grip tightening around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he let out a heavy sigh.
— The silence that surrounded you was unbearable. Being in each other’s presence was unbearable.
— He looked at you through the corner of his eye, your arms were crossed firmly over your chest and your knees were pressed together as you stared out of the window with glassy eyes.
— Your eyes shifted towards Suna, his eyes glancing up towards the rear view mirror as he switched lanes and drove through the underpass. His jaw was tense as he cleared his throat, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he tossed a glance in your direction.
— “You’re staring.” He muttered
— You looked away and chewed the inside of your lip; a nervous habit he would be sure to make you break. He hated when you did that, really, he fucking hated it.
— The two of you were invited to join the team for a night out. As Inarizaki’s manager, you were forced to go. It was supposed to be a night spent full of laughter as you enjoyed each others company before tournaments the following weekend.
— It was anything but enjoyable.
— You had been so hesitant in accepting the invitation from Atsumu when he approached you after practice. You told him you didn’t know if you could go, but the truth was, you couldn’t even bear to spend a second in Suna’s presence.
— Suna had become aloof, and the two of you had grown so distant from eachother that you began seeking comfort elsewhere, anywhere except for him.
— Your relationship was practically falling apart at the seams and neither of you dared to make an attempt to fix it in the time you’d spent apart
— he was controlling, a compulsive liar, a narcissistic bastard who chose to ignore his own faults; instead he’d pick you apart, leave you afraid as he uncovered secrets that you didn’t know that you were keeping.
— He seemed to know everything about you and it was almost as if you had laid yourself out for him, completely bare and vulnerable as he picked at your brain and made you rot from the inside out.
— Sometimes, it felt like you didn’t even recognize the person who stared back at you in the mirror.
— He would accuse you of trying to leave him, scream about how you never cared for him, and project his insecurities onto you and make you feel as if you were inferior to him. He was patronizing.
— Somehow, even after the vile things he would accuse you of, the horrendous things he would tell you, he would convince you to stay with him. He told you that he would change, that he wouldn’t do this again.
— You knew it was a lie, everything he’d told you was all a lie. Maybe it was the way that he begged you to stay, or maybe it was the way his lips pressed against yours in a desperate kiss that made you forget everything.
— It was like fucking clockwork. He would have his way with you, make you cry out his name as he fucked you until the sun came up. He did it as a reminder of who you belonged to, and as you slept beside him, completely bare and pressed against his chest, he would take your phone.
— He would hold you against his chest, an arm wrapped around your shoulders as he mindlessly scrolled through your phone with bloodshot, wide eyes.
— He read through every single text message you’d sent to Atsumu in the dead of night, begging for him to just pick up the goddamn phone.
— He scrolled through the many FaceTime calls you’d made to Atsumu when you’d locked yourself in the bathroom after a fight, too scared to face the person on the other side of the door
— It made Suna’s blood fucking boil. He hated the way Atsumu would text you, comforting you and encouraging you to leave, saying that you deserved so much better and that you needed to prioritize yourself.
— Atsumu didn’t know what you needed, how could he? He wasn’t your boyfriend.
— He would always toss your phone onto his nightstand, his hands shaking with rage before he pushed himself up from the bed and locked himself inside of the bathroom for hours upon hours contemplating what he could do to fix this goddamn mess he’d created.
— He’d stare at his reflection in the mirror and criticize himself for the way he’d been treating you, but he knew he wouldn’t change. He couldn’t, not when Atsumu had threatened to take you away from him.
— Suna knew of Atsumu’s feelings towards you. He understood the way Atsumu felt towards you, he too felt that same feeling. Love, complete and utter adoration. Maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with the idea of keeping you by his side.
— It was only a matter of time before Suna snapped. And when he saw Atsumu holding you close to his side tonight, his arm draped around your shoulders protectively with a bright smile on his lips, he fucking lost it.
— The entire team noticed how thick the tension was from the moment Atsumu laid eyes on Suna, his arm tightening around your shoulders as he pulled you closer to him.
— Suna’s skin was taught over his knuckles, tendons flexing in his wrist as he clenched his fist upon seeing the way you were pressed against Atsumu, eyes blown wide as you gawked at him.
— You hadn’t spoken to Suna in weeks after you told him the two of you were over. You didn’t even think he was going to come tonight—and he wasn’t—but he knew you’d be there
— It all felt like some sick twisted dream. It was fucking nauseating the way Suna had sat in complete silence, his eyes never leaving your side for even a split second.
— It was unbearable the way the night had dragged on for hours upon hours, that was until Kita stood up, keys in hand as he and Aran said they’d be heading out for the night.
— You didn’t know what compelled you to go home with Suna. You didn’t know what made you climb into the passenger seat of his car despite Atsumu’s words ringing in your ear. Please don’t go with him, I’ll take you home. Don’t go with him.
— The last thing you told Atsumu was that you’d call him when you got home. If you got home.
— Suna hasn’t spoken more than two words to you from the moment you got in his car. Instead, he opted to stare blankly out into the open road as the cities bright lights beamed against his cheekbones in a flurry of vibrant colors
— So when your phone began to ring, you felt like you were going to be sick. The bright light of your phone cutting through the darkness as Suna’s eyes flickered towards the screen
— “You gonna answer him?”
— When you didn’t say anything, Suna jerked the wheel violently, the cars passing him on the interstate blaring their sirens at him
— “Answer the phone, (y/n).”
— You reached for your phone with a trembling hand before pressing the answer button, shakily bringing the phone to your ear
— “Put him on speaker.”
— When your eyes met Suna’s, you felt your heart drop upon seeing the dark look in his eyes. Don’t make him ask twice
— “Hey, everythin’ okay Angel?” Are ya home yet?”
— Don’t fucking call her that.
— “(y/n), what’s wrong?”
— “Nothing, swear...He’s just taking me home ‘Tsum.”
— “Where are you.” His voice was different, there was a hint of distress laced in his words
— “Uhh— we’re on t-the interstate.”
— “Whaddya mean yer on the interstate? (Y/n), where are you, where the hell is he taking you?”
— You started to tear up, your hands trembling as Suna looked at you with frantic eyes as if he were warning you
— “‘Tsumu I-I don’t know, he said he wanted to talk to me about everything so when I get home I’ll call you ba—“
— “(y/n), ya said you were done with him, don’t let him—“
— Suna snatched your phone out of your hand when he heard your voice crack, the fear beginning to rise in your throat as Atsumu spoke
— Suna held your phone in front of his face as he spoke, his tone bored and unamused
— “Fuck off, Miya.”
— “Rin, stop it! Gimme my phone—
— “You want me to fucking stop? You haven’t spoken to me in weeks, (y/n)! You’ve ignored my calls, you’ve ignored my texts, you won’t even look me during class! You haven’t spoken to me at all yet anytime he calls you, you pick up?!”
— “Rin, I told you we’re done! I haven’t spoken to you because I’m done, Rin! Why don’t you understand that? I don’t want to be with you anymore!”
— “Don’t tell me you don’t wanna be with me anymore, you know that’s a fucking lie! You’ve been with me for two years and now you wanna just quit on me?! For what?!”
— “I don’t want to be with you anymore, Suna! I can’t do this anymore! You’re so controlling, its literally nauseating! You promise me you’ll change, every time we fight you promise me the same thing but you never do! You never change!”
— “And then you gaslight me and make me feel like everything is my fault when I’ve done no—
— “You have any idea how painful it is hearing this shit from you? You’re my girlfriend and you just left me like nothing between us ever mattered!”
— “Oh my god, Suna are you even listening to me—“
— “You won’t even hear me out, you just run to him for everything.” He seethed, hands gripping the steering wheel. “You run to Atsumu for fucking everything, and yet here I am trying to fix this shit because I love you! Why don’t you see that?!”
— “Oh my god, how can you sit here and tell me that you love me when all you do is yell at me? All you’ve ever done is yell at me, why do you think I kept trying to leave you?!”
— “(Y/n), I don’t want you to leave me, I love you, I want to fix everything I’ve ever done to you, but you just won’t let me! You just fucking left me!”
— “I left because I don’t want to fix this, I told you we were done! I can’t do this shit anymore, why can’t you understand that Rintarou?”
— “(Y/n), you can’t leave me, you belong to me and I’m not letting him take you away from me! You’re the only person I’ve ever loved, you’re the only person who’s stayed this long. Don’t leave me.”
— “I don’t belong to you, I don’t belong to anyone! I’m not yours to keep just because I was the only one who cared enough to stay by your side, that’s not how this shit works! I was there for you when you needed me and you took advantage of that!”
— “How did I take advantage of you?! Are you fucking delusional—“
— “And you wonder why I don’t want to be with you anymore! You don’t listen to me when I come to you, you don’t care about me like I care about you, Rin!” You sobbed, hands coming up to wipe your tears “Why do you think I go to ‘Tsumu, he listens to me, he cares about me!”
— “Don’t give me that shit, (y/n)! I’ve always been here for you but every time you need someone, you go to him! You don’t think I don’t know what’s going on? I know you’re cheating on me, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you were fucking him behind my back whenever you stay at his house!”
— Suna knew of Atsumu’s feelings for you, and you the same. He had confessed to you when you had stayed a night at his place after a fight with Suna. You didn’t want to go home, you didn’t want to be alone and Atsumu was the only one who cared enough to let you stay with him for a night.
— You remembered it as if it happened yesterday. You were sitting in Atsumu’s lap, sobbing into his shoulder as your body shook with each breath you took. His arms were wrapped around you as he held you close, his heartbeat pulsing violently in his chest when your hands gripped the base of his neck.
— He just held you as you cried, he never expected you to explain what had happened, that’s not what he cared about. He wished he could take your pain away, wished that he could fix you and put you back together again.
— But he couldn’t, not if you kept going back to Suna.
— He leaned back against the wall with you still in his arms, his hands coming to cup your cheeks as he kissed you softly. His lips were so soft as they moved against yours. His brow was creased as your hand came up to cup his jaw, a tear sliding down your cheek as you knew this would be the last time you shared a kiss with him.
— “I needed to do that. At least once. Don’t really care that yer with Suna, doesn’t matter. You deserve better. I’m not sayin’ that’s me, but you deserve someone who cares about ya just as much as I do.”
— The words he spoke to you would forever be engraved in your mind, a reminder of who loved you the most. He loved you, but he knew it would be selfish to take you away from the one person you claimed to love.
— You knew where you belonged, and it was with Atsumu but you couldn’t being yourself to leave Suna, no matter how hard you tried.
— You couldn’t have prepared yourself for the pain that you in felt in your heart when Suna said he knew where you’d been. He knew you’d been with Atsumu late into the early hours of morning, wrapped in his bedsheets as you slept beside him...but how did he know that...
— “Excuse me...?” You spoke shakily
— “You heard me.”
— Suna never knew you were spending nights with Atsumu, sobbing in his arms as he held you close. You would go to Atsumu because he would listen to everything you had to say, he never made you feel like a fool for staying with him. He knew how much pain you held in your heart from holding on to what little you had left of your relationship, it broke his heart through, seeing you cry for someone else.
— “Rin...how do you know that? H-how do you know that...?”
— “How do you fucking think, (y/n)? Maybe you should turn your location off.”
— You cocked your head to the side, a crease between your brows as you stared at him in disbelief. Your jaw went slack, the realization that he had been tracking your every move finally registering.
— “Rin, Pull over.” Your voice was panicked as you spoke, your chest tight as you tugged at the door handle
— “I’m not pulling over.”
— “Rin, let me out! Please just let me out!” You yelled at him, reaching over him to grab the steering wheel, steering it towards the far left lane.
— “(Y/n), stop! I’m not letting you go!”
— He didn’t see the headlights once he looked back towards the open road. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d drifted off the road.
— Maybe it was as if he’d meant to run off the road and drive into the barrier, maybe that’s what he wanted.
— You could feel the way your body slammed back against the passenger seat. You could feel the way your lungs burned upon impact, all the oxygen leaving them as you struggled to breathe.
— Suna held his arms up to shield himself as the windshield shattered, broken shards of glass cutting deep into his forearms.
— Fiberglass had imbedded itself into your skin, leaving small jagged cuts it its wake as you failed to shield yourself from the damage
— Suna felt like his head was spinning, his vision was blurred as he tried to regain his bearings, trying to understand what he’d just done.
— He reached up to touch his forehead, a wet, sticky substance coating his lithe fingers before his eyes snapped towards you with tears in his eyes.
— You could see him in the drivers seat, jaw slack as he screamed your name, tears pooling beneath his eyes as he reached for your hand with trembling fingers, his blood hot against your skin and he shook you with a desperate plea.
— Your eyes were almost lifeless, they were exhausted and filled with tears as he cupped your cheeks with the bloodied palms of his hands, begging you to just hold on, that everything would be okay.
— How is it that you found leave within the silence that rang in your ears. You could see his lips loving, but all you heard was silence.
— You stared at him, blinking once, then twice as you watched tears slip down his cheeks and onto your thighs. He cupped your cheek, his other hand brushing your hair away from you face so he could wipe the blood that trickled down your cheek
— Your vision was blurred as you looked over his shoulder and mindlessly watched as cars rushed past the scene, their headlights blinding as your vision became even more hazy.
— You’d never know if he meant to crash the car intentionally, you’d never ask, but it’s not that you cared anyway. It didn’t seem that it really mattered. At least not when you were trying to comprehend what had just happened.
— You reached for your seatbelt and released yourself from it’s confinement before reaching for your phone, pushing against the passenger side door and stumbling onto the pavement.
— Your knees hit the ground first, then your cheek was met with the cold concrete as you collapsed.
— Suna panicked when you didn’t move. He could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. Had he killed you...is this the way you’d finally be able to leave him...
— He violently pulled at his seatbelt, struggling against its confines as it remained jammed. He was seething, his eyes were blown wide and feral as he screamed your name, his voice cracking.
— “Why is this happening to me...” you mumbled
— You hadn’t even notice the tears that pooled beneath your eyes and stained the concrete beneath you. All you could do was roll onto your side, a hiss leaving your lips upon feeling a stabbing pain in your ribs.
— “Why is this happening to me...” you repeated once more
— Your phone had been shattered in the crash, yet the screen glitches to life as your ringtone sounded out. You turned your head, eyes flickering towards the screen, your lip splitting as a smile broke out onto your face and laughed was ripped from your throat.
— The shock had completely taken over your mind, rendering you helpless and leaving your conscience in a state of complete and utter chaos
— You reached for your phone, fingers straining as you barely managed to grab hold of it. You sighed and closed your eyes before mustering the strength to accept the call.
— “Tsumu...” you cried
— “(y/n)...” his voice wavered.
— “‘Tsumu...he crashed the fucking car. H-he ran off the road and he hit the barrier. Can you believe that? He...‘Tsumu I don’t know if he’s even— he hasn’t even moved.”
— Atsumu was dead silent on the line as he took in the sound of your voice; you sounded distant and tired, like you’d been woken up from a deep sleep. He started to panic, his mind racing as he wondered where you were
— “(Y/n), I’m gonna need ya to listen to me okay?”
— “Mhmm...” your eyes started to close, your mind starting to slip away from your conscience
— “Hey, hey, listen to me yeah?” You nodded “Can you tell me what you see? Tell me anything that you see, mkay?”
— Your eyes fluttered open once more as you pulled yourself up from the asphalt, letting out a hiss at the pain you felt in your back.
— “I-I think I’m near the exit towards his neighborhood...exit six...it’s the one by the gas station we always went to after school...”
— You started to cry, a pained sob leaving your lips as you almost doubled over in pain.
— “‘Tsumu, please come get me...”
— “(Y/n), angel, it’s gonna be okay. Promise, everythin’ is gonna be just fine. Just stay where ya are and don’t move, I’m on my way. I’m gonna get ya out of this, swear on it.”
— You could hear him shuffle, probably grabbing his jacket before you heard his keys jingle and his front door slam shut
— “I’ll be there soon so just hang tight, alright?”
— You sniffled and nodded, your silence making his heart ache.
— “Thank you for loving me when he couldn’t...”
If you are experiencing anything like this with a partner or family member, please reach out to someone who can offer you help or contact a hotline.
domestic violence hotline: 1 (800)799-7233
Kutte to Black
Part 1 | Part 2
A/N: So here’s Part 2 of the angsty fluffy smutty fic about you being the love of Jax Teller’s life (reimagined in the place of Tara) – you two were high school sweethearts and reunite years later... time will tell whether or not you two can be together...
Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader
Warnings: smut, swearing, angggggsty angst, mention of attempted suicide (*not* by Jax or Y/N)
Word Count: ~2.5k
... Continued from Part 1 [Read Here]
Every night I go back. Everything after that just cut to black.
Back to that rosy Redwood summer. Back to living, breathing... giving, needing... nothing but each other.
In his dreams for these eleven years he’d played out every scene. Lost in the empty in between. Drowning in sin, to fill the void. But as he did the hollow deepened, left a shell of what he’d been. The golden boy your loss destroyed. Jax gave up long ago on ever being happy as he was when you were here. Forgot what that word even means. He just defines it by its absence through the years. Each year of his existence measured by the distance from eighteen.
Through every failed distraction, no one else mattered to Jackson. Count the whores, hundred and more, but he was only ever yours. Your face is still the only one he’d ever seen.
And now you’re here behind him on his ride, after your heart and body took him home inside. The whole damn world hits different now, somehow—hits pure and good and clean. The sky is wide. For once he smiles, for the first time in a while, as the sun-scorched stretch of earth that flanks the California highway flashes by in shades of sepia and green.
Ride till the road reaches the damn middle of nowhere. Drive right past it—to the edge of nowhere—hit the gas and blast it—hurtle straight into the sun itself and make your fucking home there.
That’s what this is. Sweet secluded patch of summer grass, where years ago he had so often thrown you on your teenaged ass, to shower you with promises and kisses. Here again he takes back everything he misses. Everything is bright and right and the sun rages on in spite, as if it’s slighted that your heat outdoes its light. That’s what this is.
So wet. So tight. For once forget, eleven years ago the both of you had died. Back from the dead. Love one another back to life. Fucking impale yourself on him knowing you’ll bleed to death when he pulls out the knife.
This love is worth the spill of blood. The thrill of serving as his slut. The reason that he lives. The only shit he gives. Reminded by the reaper inked in black, upon the bare skin of his back, patched on the leather of his kutte.
Reminded that love reaps, for every promise that it keeps, and that the gates of hell burst open all the worse when heaven seeks to seal them shut.
For now heaven is his beloved face buried in deep between your legs. Fucking devouring your sex. Crashing the floodgates of your pleasure, tearing you apart as he holds you together. Your swollen pussy lips suck in his thirsting tongue now as it plunges in and wrecks.
Jax spent the first part of the day making you cum undone around his cock more times than you can count. Now that he’s claimed your cunt as his to please, and his to pound, he’s bound to savor every drop of your release, until he drowns.
Until his rockstar dick is hard as fuck again and raging for another round.
Reminded how it feels to be his girl—to be his world—eleven years of empty fade from memory as everything inside of you unfurls.
Each slide of his sensuous tongue along your slick folds makes your toes curl. Lips latch tight around your tender bud of nerves and treasure it like he just swam the whole damn sea to find this precious little pearl.
“Christ, Jax—right there...” you whimper as you twine your fingers in his sex-swept head of hair. You love him even more than you remember and it’s just not fucking fair. Feeling him feasting on your cunt for all it’s worth, after he’d split you open with his massive girth, you’re ruined now for any other man on earth. And you don’t even fucking care.
“Fucking love you,” he professes into your quivering wetness as he savors every inch of you. Groans out your name like it’s a prayer. No other man could ever dare try to compare.
“J-Jax…” you arch your spine and feel your bare skin grind against the textured leather of the kutte that he had spread beneath your back. Ever your bed upon this sacred stretch of grass.
It’s rough and ragged, weighted with the world of woe through which he’s dragged it, and the softness and the smoothness of his mouth strike you in such staggering contrast.
He takes your shuddering hips tighter in his grasp. He growls to match your every gasp. The deep vibration of the muffled sound against your soaking mound sends waves of pleasure pulsing through you and your slipping grip on sanity won’t last.
Jax always fucks you to the brink of it and pushes you right past.
The day you have with him is fading fucking fast. Hours ago when you were out upon the road the sky had never looked so vast. Yet now the sun has run its course across the blue, painting it in a thousand other haunted hues, as it condemns you to the shadow that it casts.
The question that he hasn’t asked. What brought you back. Shut the world out and let the answer cut to black.
The day is gone. The starlight through the leaves above cuts silver streaks across the lawn. Catches the shimmer of your juices on the gold bristles that frame his luscious lips, the moon and stars matching the metal of his rings, signet of prince soon to be king, as you raise his hand toward your mouth to press a soft series of kisses on his fingertips. Gaze all the while locked with his, promise of love in every kiss. Want nothing more than fucking this.
The heat of summer settles heavy on your hearts now that the sun is down. Ride the dark night back into town.
He takes you to his room back at the club. Ignore the Sons and take the stairs silently up. Men keep their heads bowed, spooked against making a sound. It’s clear the two of you are all fucked out. Bound to fuck more without a doubt. All of them wonder but won’t dare to say aloud, whether the prince of Charming may decide to ditch his crown, this time around.
He wants to take you fucking home but that won’t do. Gemma is with his son, and this is no time for the queen mother to know what’s going on, between you two.
Jax guides you to his room and locks the door and looks at you. Just... fuck the way he looks at you. The mark it leaves more lasting than your crow tattoo. Each time as if the years-old love you share is still shiny and new.
“It’s good to have you back, babe.”
Breaks your heart that he’s determined for the moment to continue this charade that everything is summer roses and that you came back to stay. Roll back the tape. You have to say—this has to end after today. But then he takes you in the cage of his embrace and you have no chance of escape.
You wrap your arms around his broad leather-clad back. The kutte that owns you so completely. Own voice cuts you like an axe, bleeds as it cracks. “The day is gone, Jax. We should really…”
Sweeps his thumb across your cheek, making you weak, the way he cradles you so sweetly. “Mmm, you got somewhere to be? Other than here looking so pretty right in front of me?”
Of course you do—but then that sinful edge of danger flashes in his baby blues—before you have a clue, he’s won a whispered no from you. No, you have nowhere else to be...
Sweet shifts to savage suddenly. “Then get down on your fucking knees.”
Sweet Jesus Christ. Familiar flood between your thighs. One you’ve not felt in these eleven years since you’d last looked into these dark dominant eyes. “God, Jax—don’t do this to me... please...”
Carries on with his playful tease. “Don’t what. Remind you that you’re my cocksucking slut?”
You’re fucking drowning in the flood.
He notices now right away, as bitter tears prick at your gaze. Instantly shifts straight back to sweet as worry falls across his face, steeped in self-hate for what the beast in him had dared to say. He knows you love it when the beast comes out to play. But shit is serious today. “Oh, God. You’re crying.”
No, you’re not. You’re fucking dying.
“Y/N…” Jax’s soft lips press to your forehead as he vows to kiss eleven years of tears away or else die trying. It’s not a vow that he takes lightly. “Babe, you’re right, we—we should talk.”
But it’s too fucking late to talk. Your inner whore wins over and you let her, though you know better, because you’re too fucking afraid to talk. Ablaze with lust. “No, I just... I just need your cock.”
Before he can protest you’re on your knees and spurred on further at his low murmur of fuck.
Jax Teller’s dick was put on earth for you to suck. It’s always been your fucking drug.
He’s tasted you a thousand times today but you’ve not yet returned the favor. Knowing it would seal your doom ‘cause you’re a sucker for that sweet and sinful flavor. Made to be treasured and savored.
Blue eyes darken as he watches you make quick work of his jeans from where you’re kneeling on the floor. “Babe, are you sure?”
Of course. Sucking his dick has always been for both your pleasure. Often far more so for yours. “Yes, sir.”
The words he fucking lives for. Cards his fingers through your hair as he towers so tall and beautiful and powerful above you. “God, I love you.”
“Love you more.”
It’s not a war. But still you want to fucking win now by reminding him that he exists for you to worship and adore. To serve as his cocksucking whore.
The night is late, and you’re both totaled by the hundred thousand rounds of love you’ve made. You wish the break of day would fucking wait. Afraid of how your love is star-crossed even as the stars all fade.
Jax pulls you into his embrace, blinding you with the ageless beauty of his life-ruining face. Tells you and shows you how he loves you in a million different ways.
Spend the next few hours just snuggling. Your strength to do anything other than just be in love is buckling. Grip his heart. Before you shatter it apart. Fucking white-knuckling.
The talk is small at first. Because big hurts.
As if you could catch up on all eleven years in so few words.
Jax wants to tell you every fucking thing he’s done. Been forced to do. So full of secrets he could burst. But wants to hide them from you, too. Every last one. He has no clue which would be worse.
You ask him questions that are innocent and pure, the way that you both were, when love was first igniting. “You still writing?”
He remembers who he was when you were here. The dreams and passions he’d abandoned through the years. The battle for a better life wasn’t worth fighting. Shrugs it off to spite the tears. “Less writing, more riding.”
Whenever he looks all torn up about the shit that he had missed... you seal those perfectly pink lips with a deep kiss. So much is lost but you just wish you could keep this.
There’s so much bitter to the sweetness, as you linger in his bed and reminisce.
“My mom really liked you, you know,” Jax sorrowfully recalls. He thought he wouldn’t mention her at all. But it’s inevitable that the talk should turn to why you had to go, those years ago. And why he couldn’t follow. Voice is heavy yet so hollow. “I think that was what made it so much worse for her. The day I packed my bags and told her that my Charming days were over. That I’d found someone I loved more than SAMCRO.”
Someone he loved more than his mother. Gemma knew it though her son hadn’t been so cold and straightforward. Saw straight through what he had told her.
It’s a day you won’t forget. The day Jax Teller had decided to leave everything behind and stay beside you as your future forged ahead.
Blue eyes blur wet, jaw firmly set. “Typical Gemma would have just threatened to murder you or something but instead…”
The shaken weight of his voice breaks across the bed. The image seared into his head—his mother on the bathroom floor—pill bottle emptied to the core—one minute later if he’d stopped by, just to say his last goodbye... she’d have been dead.
Some twisted part of you had always doubted whether Gemma truly meant what she had done, or if she’d calculated just the perfect dosage to make sure she’d stay alive and also get to keep her son. It’s a dark part of you and not something you ever would’ve said. If you had even dared suggest it Jax would surely have seen red.
Although his love for you outgrew his love for his own mom... the queen mother’s apparent suicide attempt had dug his Redwood roots deeper into this godforsaken stretch of earth from which he’d come. Condemned him to his birthright to this California kingdom. There was never any hope for him of getting past the guilt that had him so deeply undone and overcome.
The morning after he had found his mother, both of you sat by her bed as she recovered—you had never seen such fucking tears from Jax. He’d packed his bags. He needed you more than the skin off his own back. He couldn’t picture life without you but in just one flash, his vision for the future fucking crashed, and fell to pieces off the tracks.
Everything after that just cut to black.
“She’s different now. Stronger somehow.” Jax tells you as the crease of anguish deepens in his brow. “Fiercer, after that close brush with the reaper. But in so many ways she’s weaker—worse. I’m pretty sure this time around she’d sooner take your life than hers.”
The words are choked; he means it as a morbid joke, but on some level... it feels serious as hell. A fucking curse.
Last time you spoke, eleven years ago, that morning as the son’s beating heart broke—a time so far-removed the image blurs—you doubt you’d even recognize your voice... you’d made a choice. To stay or go. A choice that ought to have been yours.
This time around it will be yours because you’ll make damn fucking sure.
The break of dawn has come; you know it’s time to drop the fucking bomb.
To tell him what brought you back home.
... Continued in Part 3! ✨
Tag List – Join Here!*
*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!
@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @happyhenners @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11 @edonaspanca @ughdontbeboring @neverland14353 @starbooty @coffeequeenxx @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @justme2042 @awesomenatalia @auroraariza @rochyu @coffeebooksandfandom @inlovewithcharliehunnam @turner-cris @thesuicidalflower @chrmdnbeautiful @xladymacbethx @holl2712 @snow-white-74 @moonlight-fern @stitchesbystults @lilacyennefer @magic-room @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial @smoochesfroggos @o0idk0o @beth-winchester21 @flaireandsynch @littlebennettwitchsblog @got-to-love-a-badboy @noneofyourbusinessssblog @notquitecannon @wayward-avenging @travistheaussie @helloheyhihowdyheya @filliandkili @christycarnell6 @dinopin @leathercladmenfics @magictehnique @amberembers @addcrastinator3 @gemini0410 @waywardodysseys @foreve-free @midnvght-lies @wiccanash @batmanb @xbreezymeadowsx @louisianalady @perhapstan @beethebuzzbuzz72 @boredintheglade @fullwattpadmusictree @dove-brothers @itsmycorneroftheinternet @somebodydoingboth @sinfulfirefly @zozebo [hit the 50-tag limit – list to be continued in a reblog of this fic]
Yesssss. You’re back!!! I wanted to let you know how happy I am to see you back and now I have someone to share my frustrations and rage about this stupid show and how horrible they’ve been to Simone and other POCs.
Related to this post and similar ask answered here
YOU GUYSSS STOP I'M BLUSHING!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK! You're all so sweet I might cry but also I forgot how much I love and hate getting asks because yall are so eloquent and always take such care and time to write these long asks and I always wanna give back the same energy.
But now I'm stressed (affectionate/in the good way that motivates you) cos I feel like I opened the floodgates again - a lot of asks coming in tonight. Yall went one month without screaming to the void and now we're back in business babey - it feels like a month's worth of asks its kinda funny and I missed yall tooo
So if yall are okay let's take a pause sending essays in til I've cleared my current backlog (you can still send if its like pressing and you need to get it out but please be patient as I go through every one thoroughly so I can give back the care and effort yall give me!)
That being said, I'm happy to be back!! I'm here to listen to all your frustrations and scream about this show because somehow it got us hooked and we can't let go. Mainly its the books and the interesting and good characters and actors who understand them that's still keeping us here honestly.
Aights back to going through all your asks, buckle up guys it's going to be a long night and lots of opinions are bursting from my ask box let's go!
Heartbeats Under the Floorboards
After the events of Westview, Agatha Harkness is forced to reflect on herself in order to have a chance to save another.
Chapter 1: Reflections
It had taken weeks to break free of the mind control, but in the aftermath of the lowering of the Hex, her mind has started to register what had occurred. As the oppression dwindled, Agatha became herself once more, albeit a little exhausted from the strain. The girl had been powerful, just as the myths foretold, although as she had mentioned to young Wanda, the chaos magic cast within the Hex were doomed to be broken eventually. After a few short days of regaining her strength, she caught herself curious of the after effects of all the chaos magic. What had it done to those around her, to the very fabric of reality that surrounded the town?
She was gone in the blink of an eye. All of her belongings, every shred of evidence she could've left behind, even her rabbit familiar. It was as if Agatha... Agnes, had never existed within the small town of Westview. Even though she was well aware that someone would come looking. The Sorcerer Supreme would've most definitely felt the aftershocks of power and chaos colliding over Westview. Perhaps the echoes were felt through the Multiverse as well. It was best that she lay low. Even though this place had felt like a home, it definitely wasn't one in the slightest, even if she did enjoy her stay for the most part.
Agatha sat back in an old leather chair in her residence safely tucked away in her own little pocket dimension she had conjured in Salem. As painful as this place was, it was her first and only real home. Her blue eyes gazed over at one of her many bookshelves. Not looking at anything particular as she pondered what that young witch was looking for in the Darkhold. That book was too powerful for someone with such little practice. You needed to protect yourself with that old tome. It irradiated dark energy, corrupting energy. Something that Agatha was far too intimate with even for her own liking. She let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over her eyes as she conjured a cup of tea with the other. Bringing it up to her lips as she opened her eyes to just focus on something, anything, that wasn't Wanda Maximoff. But the nagging notion of that young witch playing with dark forces she didn't understand pulled at her thoughts. That book would kill her if she wasn't careful. Agatha knew that she wouldn't even feel it's dark presence seep into her mind until it was too late. That poor girl wouldn't know what hit her.
Why did her thoughts always travel back to her? Was it that she had been disabled by the younger woman, or was it something more? She thought back on their interactions, all the small smiles and winks. The bump of one's hip against the other's. The way Wanda had squeezed her waist while ushering her out of a room. How she had gladly accepted Agatha's arm when offered. Even how the younger woman allowed herself to be guided away from Monica, easing into Agatha's arms. The older woman would've been lying to herself if she said she hadn't felt Wanda's pull of conformity in her mind the moment she had set foot in that town. Even when the young witch had locked her into her own mind, Agatha had remembered the slightly forlorn look in Wanda's eyes, and the small smiles at Agnes' playful flirtations. Funny enough, she had kind of enjoyed that name. Had she really been playing a role in Westview? Or had the older woman felt... something? Maybe hidden below just under the surface. Feelings she hadn't thought about in so very long. Not since her original time in Salem when the world was simpler, yet the prejudice was the same. The tea was cooling in her cup as she replayed the events and dwelled on her memories.
She finally looked back down at her cup, draining it quickly before rising out of her chair. Already missing the warm leather, she lit her ornate iron fireplace with a flick of her fingers as she moved over to the closest bookshelf. She perused it as her thoughts poked at her composure. Agatha selected a tome, flipping through it, and not finding anything that interested her, placed it back on the shelf smoothly. Wanda was still in her mind, rooted in her.
Agatha's eyes went wide for a moment as the idea entered the forefront of her thoughts. The chaos magic. The older woman lifted her hand in front of her, focusing her attention on creating just a standard purple orb in her hand, letting the wisps play around her fingers. If it was still there, if Wanda hadn't somehow reclaimed all of the chaos magic she had siphoned in their duel, how would she know? From what bit of field research she had on the girl, it had to do with her emotions and the lack of their control. In a way, it went against everything Agatha had known for centuries. Even her magic was precisely controlled, and in some ways, so were her true emotions. She had to know. She had to discover the truth. She had to help the young witch that had reminded her so much of herself when Agatha was her age.
She took a moment to reflect on base emotions, finding the ones that had always haunted her. Agatha has been hunted, persecuted, suffered abuse in her own right. Her breaths became shallow as the memories slid into her mind's eye. The sideways looks over the years from those she had thought of as friends. Feeling like an alien in her own skin. Feeling like there was a monster inside that she didn't know how to control or sate.
Agatha remember the events that lead to her trial. How she sought answers to her questions and was met with betrayal by her own coven. How her own mother had betrayed her. How the old crone had created something she considered a monster, an abomination, an abuser of power.
How the only person to ever look at her with true affection, true love, was taken from her by an angry mob from the town church. And how, in her grief and rage, she had burned down their house of God in the same way those fearful puritans had burned the woman she had loved all those years ago with a pure heart so full of love. Agatha was sure she saw God every time they touched.
It was the feeling of isolation, of vilification, of loss. So much loss.
Agatha stared down at her hands through angry tears, a floodgate of grief and sadness at all of the lost moments in her life, feelings of love and kindness that had been taken from her when she was so very young and full of hope. She struck the polished hardwood floor with a fist, rings of purple rippling across the surface like a detwave with each strike. The witch choked back sobs as the pain in her hand grew intense. But it didn't compare to the centuries worth of pain that had been smeared across her mind.
Her heart felt like it would burst and her head felt like it tilted of it's own accord for a moment as the fire now roared against the mantle. The gas lit lamps began dimming and burning bright without any real pattern. Chaotically. Her familiar purple energy lighting in both hands, nearly raging against her skin. Feeling like her own power would burn her flesh if she let it. But she had to let go, needed to feel it. Falling to her hands and knees against the floor, a white hot heat felt like it was rolling up her throat, her brunette locks whipping around her shoulders.
Wanda had pulled her emotions from their safe little box, whether the younger woman knew what she had done or not.
There was a snap in her mind and withdrew against herself, rocking herself back to sit on her feet as she cried openly for that young woman she had loved so much all those years ago. The girl Agatha hadn't been able to save or even protect.
Even if the feeling Agatha suspected she had for the younger witch were real, even if they weren't reciprocated or acted upon, she wouldn't let another young woman fall to the darkness and prejudice of this world. And perhaps she could undo what had been done, for both of them.
"Never again!" She broke the floorboard with the amount of force she had struck the floor, pushing all of those once locked away emotions into the energy she cast out, only then realizing... that it was a red glow.
She inspected her glowing hands through blurry eyes and watched as the red hue lingered for a moment more before shifting back to it's natural purple tone. It was there, a piece of it was still there. Even if it was a miniscule amount, it was enough for what she needed it for. With this, she could find her, find Wanda.
Agatha let the purple energy fade away, slowly standing and cradling her most-likely-broken hand, as she smiled to herself. She could help Wanda be prepared for what was to come, maybe even save her from herself should she need it.
"Now, I know how to find you."
Love the Way You Lie (Part 1) | Kim Doyoung
Pairing: Kim Doyoung x Reader
Summary: One night, you confront Doyoung about your failing relationship and beg to work things out. But in an unexpected fit of rage, Doyoung does something unforgivable.
Warning: Mentions of domestic violence, Swearing
Word count: 1.1k
Part 1 ⭐️ | Part 2
It just turned 1AM. You’re pacing back and forth in your living room, waiting up for your boyfriend Doyoung.
Tonight is the night you finally confront him.
You’re fed up with the distance that’s developed between you, as well as the non-stop fighting. If you don’t work out how to save your relationship, soon there won’t be any relationship left to save.
Doyoung trudges into the living room, his dishevelled black hair hanging over deep eyebags.
You walk up to him and lightly touch his arm. “Doyoung… can we talk?”
Shrugging your hand off, Doyoung walks into the bedroom. “Not now Y/n, I’m tired.”
“You always say that though… Please, baby, we haven’t talked in ages.”
Doyoung shoots you a stern look as he sits down on the bed.
Your body aches with tiredness, and you consider just dropping it. But you can’t keep being this weak shadow of your former self. So, you muster up your firmest voice.
“No, we’re talking about this now.”
You take a deep breath. “Let me start by saying, I love you. But lately, I’ve been so alone. You stay out all night with your friends when you say you’re working. Why don’t you have time for me anymore?”
Now the floodgates of your heart are open, the words won’t stop pouring out. “I must be the biggest moron on the planet because I thought we were happy!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/n. I’m not the only one at fault here,” Doyoung growls, his jaw tightening.
“Oh yeah? Enlighten me! I’m the one who never forgets our anniversary. I’m the one who rubs your back when you come home exhausted from practice. I’m the one who stays up with you when you’re writing lyrics.”
Your voice gets louder, your frustration running away from you. “Doyoung, when was the last time you asked me how I am? Or even touched me? You don’t give a damn about me anymore!”
Doyoung jumps to his feet, nostrils flaring. “You need to watch your mouth, Y/n. I’m so goddamn tired of your constant nagging!” he snarls.
“You have a pretty good deal, don’t you? You get to go out and be an idol, whilst I sit here and kill myself looking after your house and your needs.”
“Y/n, stop this. Now.” Doyoung’s face is turning a nasty shade of red.
“No! What about my needs, huh? Don’t they matter?” You’re shouting now - you can’t help it.
Doyoung moves closer, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Why are you being such a bitch?”
“I’m not going to just sit here and take it. Doyoung, I love you. But I am not a doormat. I am your girlfriend!”
Doyoung clenches his fists and takes another thundering step towards you. “I’m warning you…”
“Are you fucking someone else, Doyoung? Is that what this is about? I am sick and t-”
You hear Doyoung’s hand hitting your cheek before you feel it. Then the pain comes. You stagger backwards, clutching your face in shock.
Tears spring to your eyes. Doyoung just hit you.
You look up at Doyoung. He is staring at you, frozen, as if he can’t believe what happened either. His mouth hangs open and his eyes glisten with tears.
“Y/n, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me!” The words rush out of Doyoung’s mouth in one jumbled string.
He places his hand on your shoulder, but you flinch.
“Don’t touch me!” You scream, the tears streaming freely down your face.
“Please forgive me, Y/n,” Doyoung reaches for you again, but you shove his arm away. You duck past him and sprint towards the bathroom.
Doyoung is hot on your heels, but you slam the bathroom door shut before he can get in. You turn the lock with trembling fingers.
Doyoung’s fist bangs on the door, and your heart leaps into your mouth. “Let me in, please! We can work this out.” His voice is desperate.
You don’t say a word.
“Open the fucking door, Y/n!” Glass smashes against the wood, making you jump out of your skin.
You stand frozen in shock. “Leave me alone, Doyoung.” Your voice is hoarse from shouting.
“I’m sorry baby. I love you too,” Doyoung’s voice cracks, and all of a sudden he bursts into tears.
You lean back against the door, feeling his sobs echo through it.
After a while, Doyoung’s sobs fade into silence. You both sit there, on either side of the locked door. How did you end up like this?
The morning sunlight hits your face as you awaken. You stand up slowly and take in your surroundings. You must have fallen asleep on the bathroom floor.
When you catch a glimpse of your reflection, you flinch. A violent purple bruise blooms on your cheek, and your smudged eyeliner frames your eyes with dark circles. You wash your face gently, wincing as the cold water hits the bruise.
You press your ear against the bathroom door. The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. Has Doyoung left for work already?
You need to get out of here. As much as you love Doyoung, you can’t stay with a man who hit you.
Taking a deep breath, you crack the door open and peer out.
You gasp at what’s beneath you.
Doyoung is curled up in front of the door, fast asleep. Tear tracks streak his blotchy face. The hand he hit you with is splayed on the floor like a warning. It makes the bruise on your face tingle. The mug you got Doyoung for his birthday lies shattered on the floor.
As you step over Doyoung, your breath catches in your throat. You’re not a religious person, but you pray to anyone who will listen that he doesn’t wake up.
Doyoung is thankfully still. You pick up your handbag and tiptoe to the bedside table. You stuff your phone into your bag, then pick up your keys.
Before you can get them in the bag, they keys slip out of your fingers and smack onto the floor. Ice floods down your spine.
You snap your head in Doyoung’s direction, but by some miracle, he’s still asleep. You let out a shaky breath.
Before you leave, you take one last look at your boyfriend.
Then, you open the door, and walk out of his life.
Three months have passed since the day that Doyoung hit you. You changed the locks to your apartment and have cut him out completely.
One morning, you walk into a small café. You stand in the queue, eyes glued to your phone.
The person in front of you coughs, and you freeze. You know that sound. You lift your eyes slowly from your phone, heart racing.
And then you see him…
Read Part 2 here.
@eternaltm | cont. from where sunny slapped my ass into orbit
THIS SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED.
this time that they have spent together has been, yes, like a DREAM — but the DEVIL knows better than most that all dreams must eventually come to an end. lucifer had been under no illusion that the museum is necessarily SAFE; after all, he found it with ease from the other side of the country, drawn to its energy — to colin’s energy, in truth — like a magnet. it would be too much to hope that danger would not come knocking, eventually.
and despite having yet only glimpsed the god’s power, he knows colin can protect himself. he KNOWS mere mortals cannot hope to strike him down — but that knowledge does nothing to stop the FLOODGATES from opening when the inevitable occurs, when one of those PATHETIC WRETCHES that call themselves HUNTERS decides to take a BLADE to lucifer’s 𝐆𝐎𝐃.
the sin most often attributed to the devil is PRIDE.
but his WRATH burns like the fires of hell itself.
lucifer knows malice and this man is saturated in it. oh, he thinks he is doing the world a favor by trying to purge it of anything inhuman, but little does he know that in trying to rid the earth of evil, he has only INVITED it to his doorstep. the rage bubbles, festers, eats at him like any rotten thing will — grabs hold of him and turns him into something MONSTROUS, into something OTHERWORLDLY, into a NIGHTMARE of unholy vengeance. the door splinters into pieces when he bursts through, and he relishes in the abject horror in the human’s eyes when met with the face of the DEVIL HIMSELF.
❛ 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌. 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄? ❜
a discovery made — the man will not repent, has no intention to let things simply rest. wrath only rises and lucifer welcomes it, lets it overtake and CONTROL. that all-consuming DEVOTION that would have had him place stars in the sky now roars like an inferno in his chest; hands that have cradled a god’s so tenderly within their own now used once more to hurt. it is all lucifer knows, now — how to tear things down, how to destroy — he had thought himself better, had thought himself changed, but a single threat to the one he cherishes and he slips back into the role of the PUNISHER like a second skin.
the hunter puts up a fight. not many have the fortitude to do so, when confronted with HELL’S TORMENTOR. but in the end, he begs for his life, as countless others have done before him.
but then — , the blade — , the silver blade that had torn divine flesh and spilled divine blood — , the blade is in the hunter’s hands — and lucifer does not even THINK before he wrests it away and lets it FIND ANOTHER HOME.
the blood on his hands of mere weeks ago has not yet dried, and yet lucifer finds another life taken by his hands. a rule broken twice, a rule he once had no trouble following, and now the death of two humans are on his shoulders.
what has HE done?
he is a 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑.
but william lucas will never hurt colin again.
heedless of the sting of his own wounds, heedless of the red that stains his clothes and marks him as a KILLER, lucifer returns to colin. the devil falls to his knees and CONFESSES with the bitter taste of DESPERATION on his tongue, mingled with the metallic tang of blood; speaks of a protection offered without even being asked for — and as he kneels before the god he cannot help but think of rejection, of being met with hatred when he had only loved. he sees the shake in colin’s hands and thinks it anger, hears THUNDER in his memory and recalls the way the HEAVENS SPLIT beneath his feet. drenched in crimson with open hands, lucifer awaits damnation —
and is shaken when he is met with LOVE instead.
shuddering breath catches at the words, a strangled SOB wrenched from his throat the moment colin’s hands touch his face. he has not stopped TREMBLING since steel met flesh and it worsens now, a shaking that comes from deep within his bones. every nerve feels exposed and RAW, overwhelmed by the sheer adoration the god lavishes him with. haunted eyes flutter closed as lips brush his forehead, swallowing another broken noise; he grips colin’s hands like a lifeline when they are offered, lets him pull him to his feet.
he leans into the GOD, into his LOVE, legs unsteady as foreheads press together and his offering smears between joined palms. forgiveness — he chokes at the word, feels tears prick at his eyes, hot and stinging. he sinks into it, DROWNS in it, brows furrowed, taller frame curled into the other’s. he intertwines their fingers and lets his aching soul be soothed by tenderness.
this thing he has done — for you, for you, for you.
❛ please. ❜ he gasps, encompassing multitudes in a single syllable, raw vulnerability in his eyes as he lets himself be led. his heart POUNDS in his chest, stumbling feet following without second thought. a name is spoken, whispered into the night like a prayer. ❛ COLIN. ❜
Of All the Places
Pairing: Loki x reader
Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you.
Chapter Summary: Still in the custody of SHIELD, Loki hears some troubling news from his brother. He can only hope that there relationship is repaired enough to be allowed to help set things right.
Chapter Warnings: pretty dialogue heavy
A/N: Not too much happens in this one, but it’s setting up for the grand finale! The last chapter and epilogue will both be posted next week, so keep your eyes peeled. Updates every Friday. Enjoy :)
Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @marvelousdaydreams @parkastoria @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @sourpatchspinster @gaitwae
✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →
Disclaimer: Gif not mine
“And why in the Nine not?” Loki demanded of his brother, desperate to know why he wouldn’t be set free. “You said you believed me. Even after all this, was it still not true?”
“Of course it is true, but father will not allow it,” Thor explained, unable to mask the hurt in his voice. “He still demands you be brought back to Asgard.”
Loki frowned at that. If Odin had plans for him, he doubted he could weasel out of them. He wondered if you would ever find out what happened to him if he died. Probably not. Put up against the possibility of being made to live out his many years without ever hearing from you again, death seemed like the merciful option. He couldn’t handle any more torture and being kept from you would be the worst he’d gone through yet. Though the thought of you with anyone else, especially Denzel, made Loki’s stomach roil, he would rather that than you be lonely. Hopefully, you could be happy without him, even if he could not without you.
“Loki, I will speak with him. It will be alright, brother,” Thor assured him.
“So when do we leave?” Loki asked, trying to make himself numb to the pain he was feeling. He dared not hope that his brother could set everything right.
“As soon as you are cleared to leave Midgard.”
“May I make a request?”
“With all due respect, Reindeer Games,” Stark added, though the question was most obviously not addressed to him, “I don’t think you’re in the position for that.”
“I will hear you out, Loki,” Thor said, making no comment on Tony’s remark. “I cannot promise anything more than that.”
“I understand,” Loki anxiously agreed. “The family I was staying with, I do not need to see them again, but may I have some news on them before we go? Just to know they are alright?”
“I have already given you my word that no harm will come to them.”
“I am aware, but-”
Loki was cut off by the door swinging open. The young agent made a beeline for Fury, who was standing there observing the scene with his one good eye, making no remarks of his own. The God of Mischief arched an eyebrow as the agent whispered something in the director’s ear before the two walked outside.
“I’m still wondering why you care so much about a random family from Oklahoma,” Tony said. “What were you even doing there in the first place?”
“I must confess, it was not originally my choice. When I used the Tesseract to escape, I told it to take me somewhere safe,” Loki recounted. “I have not the slightest clue as to why it chose there.”
“Well, that explains how you got there, but why’d you stay?”
“I was,” Loki responded, clearing his throat, “persuaded.”
“In what way?” Thor puzzled.
“They did not know who I truly was, so they welcomed me with open arms,” Loki sighed. “I suppose I... I bonded with a few of them.”
“Yeah, they did all give glowing reviews of you,” Tony said.
“Wait. So you have heard from them? How are they? You must tell me. How is... everyone?”
Loki would not yet risk showing he had any particularly special connection with you, lest it put you in any more danger than you were already in. Thor and Tony exchanged a look, though, that said they could tell he wanted to know about a specific member. He hoped you hadn’t had to tell the agents too many details about your relationship. Somehow, it seemed like a mortifying prospect for them to know such a personal thing. Especially his brother. He was not yet ready for another heart to heart.
“They are all fine,” Thor hesitantly said. “Brother, I don’t suppose you bonded with one of them more than the others. Say, as something more than a friend. You can tell me, you know.”
Yup, Loki was right. Absolutely mortifying. Back on Asgard, he and his brother never really talked about relationships. Their own was already too far gone by the time they reached an age where they thought much about it. The trickster god still remembered his first kiss. It was with one of the palace stable boys. He’d even started riding more just to have an excuse to go and see him. Of course, Odin found out and deemed it improper. Loki never did find out exactly what had happened to him, but he remembered wanting to go and talk to Thor about it. Needless to say, he didn’t. But maybe, just maybe, this was an opportunity to make up for that. So, against his better judgement, Loki told Thor of his special connection with you, though not to the full extent out of the desire to still guard his emotions. Unfortunately, that meant Stark heard, too.
“Not a word out of you,” Loki menaced as Tony opened his mouth. Thankfully, he backed off, putting his hands up in surrender. “Thor, please tell me that they are alright. If they were hurt because of me... Well, just tell me how they are.”
“They are a little shaken up, I will admit, but they are ok. Safe. As I have already said, you have my word that they will remain that way.”
Loki choked out his thanks before Fury burst back into the room. That man was so unreadable that Loki couldn’t make out a single damn expression on his face. How he wished he could have that talent to be so guarded again, but once the floodgates were opened the first time, he never could quite get them closed again. Regardless, the raven haired man knew something was up—something bad. It was the same feeling he’d gotten the day prior, and look where he ended up. But he couldn’t be apprehended by SHIELD again, so now it was back to the question of what. But deep down, he knew. He whispered your voice so low that only Thor heard, and the thunder god shot his brother a concerned glance. Before he could say anything, though, Fury spoke.
“I need your asses out here now,” he said, addressing the two Avengers. “It’s urgent.”
“Wait, brother,” Loki called before he could exit. “I feel in my gut that there is something very bad happening to my beloved. You will tell me if that is the case, correct?”
“I do not know if that is wise.” Thor looked like he was thinking very hard, brows furrowed in concentration. The desperate, pleading look written plainly on Loki’s face must have convinced him because he finally relented. “But yes, I will. As soon as I can.”
Loki gave a quick nod of gratitude before Thor left again. Now that he was left alone in the room, there was very little stopping him from descending into a full on panic. If you were in any sort of trouble, it was undoubtedly his fault. He never should have done that to you. Then again, if he hadn’t stayed around you for so long, he would still be being crushed by the weight of loneliness. His heart would still be fractured. Perhaps it would have been better than having you violently ripped away from him, though. He feared this cycle of guilt and hypotheticals would never end.
He wasn’t sure if it was minutes, hours, or only mere seconds that passed before Thor was coming back in, but he was relieved to see him. After all, his thoughts were a very scary thing to be trapped with. Even scarier was the deeply worried expression upon Thor’s face.
“Brother?” Loki asked, though he was more nervous for the answer than he ever imagined possible.
“The Chitauri. They are back.”
“In New York? But you closed the portal, did you not?” A sickeningly horrifying idea occurred to Loki, and he swallowed thickly. “Is it Thanos? Has he returned? If he is here to make good on is threats to me, then I beg you, brother, just turn me over. It will be easiest, safest, for everyone.”
“If you think for one moment that I will allow that, you are further out of your mind than I suspected,” Thor raged. Loki was shocked into silence. Never before had Thor yelled at him like that. Sure, he’d shouted at him, but it was always because he was angry at him, or because he was pinning the blame for something on Loki. Not because he cared about him. Thor calmed himself down a bit before he continued explaining the situation. “The portal is still closed. We just did not actually round up all the ones that had already come through, apparently. And, they are not in New York, either.”
Thor looked nervously around the room. “It hardly matters, brother. You will not be able to come.”
“Thor, where?” Loki growled.
Loki sucked in a sharp breath and went pale as a ghost. There was only one logical explanation as to why they would be there of all places. Him. They must have tracked him somehow and were there to get revenge. But he wasn’t there anymore, thanks to SHIELD. And if they truly were tracking him, they wouldn’t stop at the city. They would keep going until they reached your farm. Until they reached you.
“Let me go. I can stop this.”
“Were you not listening to what I just said? You cannot come.”
“Brother, please,” Loki whispered, “I beg of you, just let me take care of this. What if it was your mortal who was in danger? You would stop at nothing to save her, I know. That is how I feel, except it is not only the one I care so dearly about. Yes, there is my beloved, and I would die a thousand deaths for them, but it is their whole family, too. I would give my life to keep them out of danger.”
“Thor,” Captain Rogers said, appearing in the door. “We have to hurry.”
“I am sorry, brother,” Thor told Loki before turning away. There was some look in his eye that Loki did not get a good enough look at to place, but he was certain he was trying to tell him something with it. Regardless, he turned and left. “I am coming, Captain.”
Helplessly tugging at the chains holding him to the table, Loki began to hyperventilate. He started cursing himself. If only he were a stronger sorcerer, then maybe these chains couldn’t restrain his magic. If only he hadn’t become so bitter and hopeless, then maybe he never would have let go on the Bifröst. If only his will wasn’t so weak, then maybe Thanos never would have gotten him to attack Midgard in the first place.
He gave up the futile struggle as the blinding anxiety slowly faded. Letting his head drop into his hands, Loki allowed himself a few quiet sobs before trying to clear his head. He needed a plan. For so long, he was ten steps ahead of everyone, but now? Now he was about a hundred miles behind, locked in a room, unable to protect you. But, no. He wouldn’t give up. He was going to get out. He only needed to think. Surely there were still some cards to play, right?
He looked up to see Thor sneaking back into the room. Maybe this was a hallucination. It was quite possible that he’d finally cracked under the never-ending pressure. Because, really, when had the God of Thunder ever done anything like this before? Though, the fact that he was unlocking the cuffs did seem to be in favor of the idea that this was a jail break.
“What are you doing?” Loki hissed, rubbing his now freed wrists, still not entirely trusting this wasn’t a trap.
“Is it not obvious? I’m freeing you.”
“Well, how daring of you, brother. I admit, I did not think you had it in you.”
“Yes, well, I can see how much you truly love your little Midgardian.”
“Nonsense. It is like I said, I am concerned for all of them. They did, after all, take care of me.”
“Oh, yes. I am sure that is it.”
Loki just rolled his eyes and made his way over to the exit. Almost every instinct in him was screaming to just teleport away from the scene, get to you as fast he could. The thing stopping him was that for once in a very long time, Thor wasn’t dismissing him. In fact, he was trusting him. He couldn’t just turn his back and betray that now, not if he had any hope of getting their brotherly bond back.
Banner was standing right outside the door as Loki opened it, making him jump a little. Before he could whip out a weapon, though, Thor was reassuring Loki that he was just standing guard during the break out. It was quite the strategic move, Loki thought, to have the one Avenger who could really do damage to him be right outside the door. Perhaps he wasn’t giving his brother enough credit. Or perhaps there were just others involved in this scheme.
Sure enough, after dodging a number of agents, the rest of Thor’s friends were waiting in the Quinjet. The tension in the air was palpable as they stood there in silence, sizing each other up. It was obvious Thor wanted to say something to get them all amicably chatting, but knew whatever he was going to say would probably just make things worse. Though the very idea made him gag, Loki knew what he must do if he wanted to reach you in time.
“I apologize,” he said, trying to make it sound completely sincere. “I know that I have hurt some of you—all of you—in some way. I cannot erase the past, but I am trying to do the right thing now. I was not in my right mind the first time we met. Let me prove that now.”
The Avengers all made eye contact with each other, communicating without words. It was agony waiting for their approval, both because he was anxious just to get to you, and it was sickening to have to be judged by them in such a way. Knowing that it was his only opportunity of helping you without complications, however, he waited with bated breath for their reply.
“Ok,” Romanoff finally spoke up. “We forgive you. For now, anyway. Right now, we have to get to Oklahoma.”
“Yes. Please, let us be on our way now,” Loki urged.
And that’s how the God of Mischief ended up flying around with the Avengers. At least he wasn’t chained up like the last time. It was, though, perhaps the most tense situation he’d ever been in. But it didn’t matter, not now. No, now he was on his way, and there was only one thing in his mind, repeating over and over like that one song lyric you can’t get of your head.
He was going to save you.
A Darkrai Transformation story (based on my OC).
Warning: Severe angst ahead.
The glass cup nearly cracked under Armon’s tightening grip. Any more pressure and it might break, but the man paid no heed. Why…?!
He slammed the cup onto the desk and Rowan, the Growlithe sitting by his side, whimpered. Rowan’s master had been so angry and devastated since he returned home from a visit to Icebreak Town, and yet he still didn’t understand why. The first thing Armon did upon coming home was downing multiple huge glasses of water, then stomping up to his room (more of an office than a proper bedroom, really), and weeping, first out of grief and then pure agony. It was a miracle he didn’t wake Sara up with all of the noise he’d made. Only now, twenty minutes later, did Armon open the door and allow his only Pokemon partner in to see what was wrong.
Armon rubbed his temples and squeezed his red-veined eyes shut before peering down at Rowan. The Growlithe rested his head against his master’s leg, his expression and whining asking the same question over and over: “What’s wrong, what’s wrong?”
Armon made a weak, tormented smile and gently stroked the Puppy Pokemon across his fur-tufted head with a free hand, while the other hand held onto the blue gemstone resting on top of his desk. “I-I’m sorry, Rowan. It’s just…” He fell silent again, the hand petting his partner falling back to the side. “…Maple is…still out there…”
Rowan tilted his head, his expression becoming one of confusion. “The human-male called Maple?” The expression inquired, “but he’s gone isn’t he?”
“I thought he was,” said Armon as though he understood the silent question. “We were wrong. The police-the officers-” His words faltered, and he slammed another fist against his desk with bared teeth. They didn’t catch him, his mind growled the rest of his sentence. They failed to catch the man who killed Martha!
His fists started trembling again, and his tired gaze drifted onto the gemstone. Martha’s gemstone, his wife’sgemstone, her family’s most precious treasure that she gifted to him shortly before Maple viciously took her life, leaving her husband and their only child alone in the world…
The tears returned, long buried sorrow and disbelief mingling with long-forgotten rage. Damn it…ARCEUS DAMN IT!! Armon choked on a sob and cracked his fists against the desk again. He thought he had moved on from Martha’s sudden passing a long time ago, but the floodgates had opened right back up the moment the police informed him the culprit was still at large. If the police can’t catch the bastard, then who can??
The broken, bitter man raised his head then, his eyes glazing over. If only I were a Trainer or at the very least a Ranger. I could find him myself…
Rowan whimpered again and nudged his master’s side. He didn’t like where Armon’s emotions were taking him. “Rowlth!” The Growlithe barked, ‘Stop it, Master!’
Armon flinched and turned away. “I-I’m sorry, Rowan.” He muttered before turning over his thoughts again. I could find, Maple…I could find him myself, and show him what he did to me…what he did to Sara…
The man flexed his fingers before tightening them into a fist. Rowan’s eyes widened and he went to bite at his master’s arm before his imagination took him too far when he saw it. The Growlithe halted in his assault to stare at it, and eventually, Armon pulled out of his dark thoughts to stare at it as well.
Martha’s gemstone was hovering above his desk, the center of it shining an eerie, blue-green glow.
“WHAT THE-?!“ Armon shot up from his chair. The gemstone moved along with him, the glow within swirling. “Rowan.” Armon reached out to his partner, never taking his eyes off the gem. The Growlithe kept to his master’s side, transfixed by the light.
Pressure intensified within the room, the very atmosphere blurring and growing heavier. Armon fell to his knees, choking, and Rowan fell alongside him. It was getting harder to breathe, much less stand, yet neither human nor Pokemon ran. Neither of them felt they could, much less should. Trembling, and unsure wither to start barking, Rowan glanced towards Armon. The light held him within a trance, as though showing him something the Growlithe could neither see nor sense, before suddenly bursting out of the stone with a brilliant flash. The man recoiled once he was free from the light, only to look right back at it as it broke into separate arrays before churning into separate luminescent tendrils above his head. Armon gasped and fell onto his back as he tried to escape, but it was no use. Even if he managed to flee, there was no running from fate. The tendrils took aim, and Armon cried out as the light drove through his chest.
The man’s eyes rolled back as the light spread across his body like thousands of little Spinarak webs, flooding his senses, consuming him both inside and out to the point where he hovered above the floor. Before Rowan could start panicking and barking, the light faded, and Armon collapsed back onto the floor.
His mind reeled as he slowly came back into focus, and he coughed a few times before standing up on shaky legs. What in the world just happened? Where did that light come from? What did it do to him??
Sharp, rigid pain suddenly stabbed through his torso, and Armon cried out. Rowan leapt to his side, whining in alarm. ‘Are you alright, master??’
Armon turned to his friend, panting. “I-I don’t know Rowan…” He clutched his chest, digging his fingers into his sweater as the pain slowly dwindled away, replacing itself with…something else. A void lingering within his torso, heavy, harrowing, and it wasn’t there before the gemstone glowed. What-what is this…? Armon tried to focus, his mind racing. Is it a heart attack? No, the symptoms are all wrong, aren’t they? That light- He staggered. What did it do to me…?
The man slowly turned back towards the now dormant gemstone on his desk. However, before either he or Rowan could make any sense of the insanity that just occurred…
The man stiffened, his mind easing at the sound of his daughter’s voice. “S-sara?” Armon adjusted himself, trying to mask the pain and unease as much as possible. “Wh-what is it? Is something wrong?”
The bedroom door slowly opened, revealing a tiny brown-haired girl of six years on the other side. “I-I had a bad dream, Dad...” Sara rubbed her eyes with a spare hand while the other held a large Piplup plush. “I…I don’t wanna go back to sleep…”
Armon’s expression softened, his predicament forgotten. “Oh, Sara…” The man approached his daughter and kneeled in front of her. “Everyone has bad dreams at some point. They usually don’t mean anything in the end, it’s alright.”
He gently ruffled Sara’s hair, making her giggle, before carefully lifting her up into his arms. “Come on, I know a way to help you sleep.” He glanced at Rowan back in his room, and gestured for him to follow. Rowan frowned, still unsure what exactly just occurred, before following in suit. “What was your dream about?” Armon asked, trying not to grip his chest again.
“Uhm…” Sara itched her head, and then shuddered. “A big scary Pokemon was coming….”
“A big, scary Pokemon…” Armon narrowed his eyes and glanced outside. “Well, there is a New Moon tonight, so it makes sense…”
A New Moon tonight? The man suddenly thought. How did I know that? Why is that suddenly important…?
“…Though it was true Masato and Jirachi would never see each other again-” Armon read, “-they would always be together, no matter how far apart they were. As Jirachi told Masato before he left Faunz, he will always watch over him, even through his thousand-year sleep. So they say...”
Armon closed the storybook, and glanced over at Sara. She was fast asleep, curled up on her bed, surrounded by a number of her plushes with a content smile on her face. Armon smiled in turn. Sara’s favorite bedtime story always managed to put her to sleep, no matter how troubled she seemed. The girl’s father placed the storybook on the table nearby, and slowly sat up from the bed. “Goodnight, my little Rowlet…” He gently kissed her on the forehead and tucked her in. Once he was sure she was comfortable, he made his way towards the door.
Armon almost fell over, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. Rowan, who had been lying down eyeing his master carefully, leapt to his feet. “Rowlth??” ‘Is it back??’
“I-I think so…” Sweat soaked into Armon’s hair as he gripped his chest again. The void had morphed back into the sharp, agonizing pain from before, and it was escalating. The man pressed his hand against the wall to stay steady, panting as he forced his way towards the door. He glanced back at Sara. She was still asleep, thank Arceus! Please stay asleep…He stumbled out of his daughter’s room, nearly gasping now. Pl-please…
He glanced down. Rowan was right behind him; ready to follow his master wherever he went. “R-rowan please.” Armon tightened his grip, the pain intensifying with each heartbeat. “St-stay with Sara. Make sure she-she stays asleep.”
Rowan blinked and whimpered. ‘But why? You’re in trouble!’
“I can’t…She can’t…” Armon struggled to find the right words. “I don’t want her to see me like this…” He reached out for his partner, only to falter. “Rowan, please…N-no matter what happens…Stay with her.”
The Growlithe whined, and when he refused to move, Armon gestured with an outstretched arm. “St-stay with Sara…I’m begging you, Rowan…”
Rowan could have started crying right then and there. His master was clearly in pain, and yet he didn’t want his partner near to help when he needed it the most? The Growlithe glanced over at Sara, then back. Armon wanted him to stay with his child for a plausible reason, though. What should he do??
Armon’s arm started trembling. “St-stay, please.”
The Growlithe groaned and reluctantly backed away into Sara’s room, watching his master with great concerned eyes as Armon closed the door on him. When he was sure Rowan won’t try to follow or break the door down, the miserable man slowly walked away, trying not to stumble or collapse as he did.
Hospital…c-call the hospital…Armon tried to think through the nausea mixing with the pain. He needed help right now, but an obscure instinct told him not to seek it. Something was coming, something beyond the pain, another reason why he wanted neither Sara nor Rowan to see him like this. But what??
“Argh-!” The man collapsed. The pain it-it came from his back instead of his torso this time! Armon gagged, threatening to vomit all over himself. There was a great black moon in the night sky, something he never noticed until now. The New Moon?? He guessed. But-but how??
Armon bared his teeth against the pain as he forced himself back on his feet. It came from his ribcage; the pain was spreading all over now. M-my room! He suddenly thought. Have to-get to my room…!
He dragged himself to the stairs leading to his room, using every amount of willpower not to scream or vomit. Once there, Armon gripped the railing and struggled his way up, his legs growing heavier with each step he took. When he finally made it to his room and locked the door behind him, the peak of his spine cracked.
The man howled, unable to hold it in anymore, and fell to his knees for the last time. His back had just cracked, out of nowhere, right at the cervical! His neck should be broken; he should paralyzed or dead, why wasn’t he either of them?? Armon bared his teeth and writhed as the bones of his spinal cord reformed and moved upwards, the seams of his sweater tearing as his back became hunched. It didn’t stop there. Armon gripped the floor and nearly vomited as the pain spiraled away from his back, and crawled down to his arms.
Moaning, gasping, the man slowly raised his trembling head, and looked down at his right hand. His eyes bulged, his breathing accelerating. There was a dark spot on his palm that was not there before, and it was growing. Armon scratched weakly at the darkness in vain, part of him noting its soft, silk-like texture, as it spread across his entire hand, turning it dark gray, almost black. Horrified, Armon could only watch as the wrist shrank, and the hand expanded in size as his index and pinky fingers disappeared, while the other three fingers bulged and sharpened into thick menacing claws.
WHAT THE HELL-!? Armon grabbed his transformed wrist with his left hand; sheer terror and instinct leading him to believe that holding onto his hand would somehow prevent the change from continuing. The effort proved futile, and the man released his grip as his left hand trembled and morphed the same as his right.
Armon sat up the best he could and stared down at his new hands with tear-filled eyes. Before he could even try to theorize what was happening to him, his ribcage cracked again. He cried out and clung to his chest, groaning as his stomach, intestines, and waist shrank in and his chest expanded outward into a narrow diamond shape. Don’t Sara or Rowan come in, He silently begged, don’t-don’t let them see me like this!
The shadows of Armon’s new arms began to spread throughout the rest of his body, working through and changing him like venom through a vulnerable blood stream. He groaned in an ominous, in-human voice as it moved towards his skull, the groans rising into deep, echoing snarls and growls as the bones within started to break and re-form, slowly but surely re-shaping his head. S-stop, Armon silently pleaded as his eyes started to change shape, and each thread of his hair began to fuse into thicker, larger strands, Arceus please make it stop! The end of his spine extended and burst out through his pants, forming into a ragged, spectral-like tail. The skin of his shoulders grew and stretched before ripping through his sweater, forming into dark, smoke-like wisps that drifted aimlessly as though wind were blowing onto them. The hair followed shortly after. Once every strand had fused, the hair started growing longer in length, paling from dark brown to snow-white, as though Armon had suddenly aged multiple decades, before rising and hovering alongside the shoulder tendrils.
St-stop…please! The man-if he was considered one at this point-continued to beg beyond hope as he lost feeling all feeling in his legs, as though they suddenly ceased to exist. It-it hurts…IT HURTS!
As if to respond to his pleas, the bones within his now narrow chest hardened and reformed, and Armon howled and ripped at his shirt as the bones pushed upward, through the skin, forming into a spiked, blood-red collar shielding a portion of his head.
He clawed at his face, clutching it as his nose and ears dissolved, and his teeth sharpened before his mouth apparently disintegrated. Tears seeping down his reformed face as his pupils slit and the eye color lightened, Armon peered through his claws, his gaze landing on the gemstone that started it all. His wife’s gemstone, Martha’sgemstone. Memories of her flashed before his eyes, memories of happier times, the time she told him the history of her family’s treasure. Did she know?? Did she know this would happen to me?!
Armon’s now deep-blue eyes widened, and as his transformation completed he reared his head back and roared the name of his lost loved one.
The new Pokemon collapsed to the floor, and all fell silent.
He lay there for a good amount of time, exhausted and weak from losing his body, before raising a trembling arm. It landed on the floor, claws digging into the wooden texture before pulling its occupant forward.
The other arm followed in suit, their occupant groaning as he crawled closer to the walls, specifically the one with the hanging mirror.
The dark talons grabbed hold of the wall and clawed their way up, heaving their owner upright until he was able to hover aboveground.
When he was sure the mirror was in front of him, the man-turned-Pokemon slowly opened his new eyes.
“R-RAI?!” WH-WHAT?! Armon recoiled as though stung. No, no, that reflection couldn’t be real! It couldn’t be true!
Gasping, the transformed human took a risk and slowly looked down at his arms. It can’t be-! NO!
He tore at his new, dire form, trying to find something, anything that resembled his true human self, only to find none. No no NO! Please!
Tears stung his eyes as he frantically examined himself, grabbing at the red collar, the wisp-like shoulder tendrils, the hair, and his tail. His tail! Why did he have a tail?! Where were his legs!? How could he move without legs?!
NO! This is wrong! All wrong!!
He blinked his tear-filled eyes as he realized his vision changed. The night was pitch as black, outside and in, and yet he could see perfectly as though it were a sunlit day. He could see the New Moon glittering down on him. The New Moon…
The answer hit him then. He knew what he was now, he knew what he’d become and he nearly fainted again just by thinking about it. Darkrai. The vicious embodiment of nightmares, the New Moon incarnate. A monster.
This-this isn’t me!
Armon trembled violently as he tried to deny what he was seeing, what he was feeling.
This isn’t me! This isn’t who I am!
Unable to escape the truth and unable to cope, the new Darkrai drifted down, buried his head into his hands, and started to cry.
I’m not-I’m not a monster…
His new tail wrapped around his waist as if to comfort him, but he ignored it. It couldn’t be true it was impossible! None of this should be theoretically possible, so why…?
The memories of this night razed through Armon. The police informing him of Maple at large, Martha’s gemstone glowing and pouring its light into him, no doubt resulting in this horrid transformation, and Sara-
The Darkrai slowly lifted his head, a sense of calm overcoming him as he remembered comforting her from her nightmare, and tucking her in after reading her favorite story. My-my daughter…my-my child…
Armon slowly turned towards the door. Was she hurt? Was she alright? She didn’t hear him, did she? If she did…
He rose above the floor, faltering as he did, and hovered for the door. He had to see her, he thought as he reached for the doorknob. He had to see if she was doing okay…
Wait, what is he doing?!
Armon’s outstretched hand trembled, and he backed away. What was he doing?! The way he was now he-she would be scared-no-terrified of him! On top of that: What if I hurt her?
His eyes widened. The big scary Pokemon that was coming in Sara’s dream….was it him? Was he the monster that was coming for her? Am I the one who gave her that dream?
No he couldn’t take this, it was too much. The Darkrai continued backing away from the door, his vision foggy with more tears. He could hurt her. As long as he was a monster he could hurt her even if he wasn’t near her! N-No…
Armon pressed himself against the farthest corner of his room and sank down. He wanted to go to Sara to see if she was alright, but he’d hurt her if he did!
Wh-why…Armon shook his head and buried it into his hands again. He couldn’t handle this, he couldn’t handle any of it! Why did this happened? What did he do to deserve this?? Where did he go wrong…?
Zukka Soulmate AU part 7
"Get away from. Him Azula" Zuko said while standing between his sistet and Aang
"Aw, do you really think you can capture him first Zuzu" she mocked
"No" he narrowed his eyes at her but turned his head to the right just a bit to see that Aang looked exhausted, of course he was. He was tracking his sister while her Mai and Ty Lee terrorized the group. He sent Jee and Iroh after the others to make sure they were safe while he want after Azula
She gave a huffed laugh "come on Zuko, why turn against fathers orders now? You could still get his love back yo-"
"Has it ever occurred to you that I've realized he never loved me in the first place?" He growled out "do you honestly think that two and a half years at sea wouldn't open my mind to the reality that a family isn't supposed to burn half your face off?"
"Come on Zuko, you know you deserved it, he had to teach you a lesson-"
"Shut up!" He fired a blast that she easily lept over and the chase was on once again, Azula chasing Aang and Zuko trying to stop her.
When she almost had a grip on Aang, Zuko picked up a large rock and chucked it at her managing to hit her in the wrist and send her spinning to an alley. She turned to glare at him while clutching her wrist while Aang managed to hide behind Zuko like he was Aang'solder brother or something "so your aim has gotten better I see, mommy's little assassin"
He held tight to a wooden plank he managed to grab as well and glared daggers back at her "no, youre just an actual target now"
"Is that so" she took a stance and went to fire a blast but was launched away by a block of earth under her feet revealing Toph, Katara, Sokka, Iroh and Jee.
"Toph!" Aang shouted and Zuko managed to relax just a bit
"Hey twinkle toes, we figured you guys could use some help with crazy over here" Toph jabbed her thumb in the general direction of Azula
"She's not crazy, she's just stuck and stubborn" Zuko pointed out
"Two very bad traits that lead to crazy Zuko" Aang said while elbowing the older teen in the side.
[Not a scene shift but a pov shift from Zuko to Sokka]
The group circled around Azula with their weapons at the ready and Sokka glared at this girl they had cornered, the way she looked mockingly at Zuko and the look Aang was giving him told him everything he needed to know. This girl had hurt Zuko in some way or maybe many ways.
Perhaps she's part of the reason they share so many scars. Regardless he knew she was a threat. "Alright, you got me" Sokka narrowed bis eyes, she was lying. "I know when I'm beat" she turned her back to them and started to kneel but shot a blast, at Zuko's Uncle. The expression that twisted Zuko's face was heartbreaking, it was as if Iroh was the only thing he had to hold onto and it was just ripped from him in an instant.
Filled with an almost unimaginable amount of rage Sokka threw his boomerang at Azula mere seconds before the rest laid on the bending and Azula disappeared
[And now we shift back to Zuko because I said so]
As soon as Azula was out of sight Zuko was at Iroh's side, he leaned his head down and pressed his ear to Iroh's chest listening for a heartbeat. After hearing one but noticing it was weak he let out a breath he didnt notice he was holding. Though the moment of slight relief didn't last long. He should have protected his Uncle, he's younger and faster, besides its him and Aang that Azula has quarrel with not Iroh.
Iroh was the only family he had left and now he might lose him too. All because he couldnt protect him. He felt his palms growing hot, like they were about to burst into flames so he clenched them in an attempt to suppress the fire. Jee sat beside him with a look of both fear and sympathy on his face.
"Zuko" he heard Katara softly call out behind him
"Leave us!" Zuko cried out over his shoulder
"Zuko I can help!"
"I said Leave!" He went to swing his arm back and release the flames begging to escape but Jee caught his hand halfway there and gave him a hard glare. Zuko stared at him with confusion but then his gaze shifted over to see Sokka staring at him with tear filled eyes and his heart sank.
He gave a sigh and Jee let go of his hand. "Oh... okay" he said in a soft voice before moving to let Katara take a spot beside Iroh so she could heal him. "Just... dont hurt him please" he whispered
"I would never" Katara reassured as Zuko watched her closely. He watched mesmerized by the glow in the water around her hands, he didnt even realize Sokka had moved beside him until he heard the dirt beside him scatter from the slump Sokka did.
Turning to Sokka he found himself pulled into a half hug and stiffened, he wanted to cry but didn't want to let himself until Sokka reached up and played with his hair as a comfort touch. It was like the floodgates opened, he held onto Sokka holding back sound but letting his tears flow with a few small whimpers.
It wasnt until three hours later when they were all huddled up in a small earth town inn that Zuko managed to bring himself to check on Iroh. He walked into the room and found Iroh sipping a cup of tea with Katara and Jee who all turned to him with smiles. "Zuko, how are you feeling?" Iroh asked with a grin
Zuko gave a snort and a stifled laugh that quickly devolved into a full belly laugh "me? How am I feeling?" He leaned against the wall with his hand and tried to catch his breath "you ask that like I was the one shot with a blast of blue fire!" He gave his uncle a grin "stop doting Uncle, its my turn for a while, okay?"
Iroh gave a hearty laugh and sigh "alright Prince Zuko, but I have one more question" he raised his brows with an unspoken question
"Oh no" Zuko slapped his face in a face palm motion, hearing a loud 'ouch!' From the other room
"Oh yes, that is the exact question" Iroh, Katara and Jee all snickered
"Not right now, they haven't even accepted us into the group, she's healing you and they might just up and leave us after that so Im not giving my hopes up"
"First of all mister gloomy!" Katara said while standing up and jabbing her finder into his chest "we have accepted you guys, and Second! You already have" she flicked his now very much out in the open blue ribbon tied around his forearm given his change of clothes into short sleeve earth kingdom clothes
Zuko flushed and turned away "thats.. uh... I have an explanation about that"
"I'd love to hear it" she put her hands on her hips and gave an expecting look.
"Uuuuhhhh... well you see... uhm..." he paused for a while and then just sighed while sagging his shoulders "okay fine I got it because Sokka's eyes are blue.... and really pretty...."
Katara clasped her hands together and inhaled with a big grin plastered across her face "Oh my gods thats so cute!"
"Shhh! Just... dont tell him okay? I know he doesn't like me so I'm just gonna wait for him to ask me to attempt to tell him okay?"
"Thank you" and with thst he snuck out of the room and back into the shared bedroom where Sokka and Aang were pressed against the wall. Shooting them a glare he made a 'tch' sound and walked out and sat outside the Inn on the small steps in front of the building.
Agni this day was a rollercoaster.
At What Cost?
A/N: I have a bunch of requests to work on-which I am-but I saw a video a while back about a theory saying Bakugou is the second user of AFO and well, this happened! And if you don’t know by now, I’m in LOOOOVE with Ratsuki so I had to make this. Enjoy!
Genre: Angst, sorry not sorry
Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader
Prompt: I kinda used the 57.”I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” Even though it wasn’t planned.
“I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.”
Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest, air leaving your body as you heard the words you so desperately wished you didn’t.
The words you knew needed to be spoken despite the pain you felt.
You could only stare at the man you love as he gazed out on the small crowd of your friends, heroes. This life was a dangerous one, that you have always known. You were ready to risk it all for the lives of the innocent and the heroes alike. You didn’t expect to fall in love with one, especially someone who you were now being told you would never see again.
“Hang on, how can we be so sure? How can we know that this is the right answer!? It doesn’t make sense!” Kirishima tried to reason, a few others agreeing with him.
“Why would Shigaraki be looking for Bakugou if it wasn’t true?”
“Because he’s got his information mixed up? It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“There’s not any evidence that suggests this can be remotely true-”
“I’ve seen him,” Deku spoke up, his face crestfallen at the notion of it all,”I’ve seen Kaachan in line with every other successor. I couldn’t picture him clearly before, but after all of this, I can. There’s no doubt about it, Katsuki Bakugou is the second holder of One for All.”
A silence fell over the group, causing the ringing in your ears to grow louder.
“There’s got to be another way-”
“No, there’s not.”
Kirishima began to tug on his hair, cursing as he walked back and forth in front of the table everyone was sitting at. Midoriya’s frown deepened as he glared at his clenched hands as he listened to Kirishima’s scene. Eri sat next to Deku, looking worriedly up at the hero was to be the main piece to win this war, the one who’d save you all.
Too bad it would cost him his life as he knew it.
“I guess.. If everyone is in agreement, we need to get a hold of that quirk enhancement drug, immediately.” Shoto sighed bitterly, leaving the room once no one made any objections to stop him.
A few others followed him out, till the crowd dimmed out to five.
“Are you sure this is the only way?” Kirishima’s voice held despair, and you had to shut your eyes to not cry.
You were a hero, heroes made sacrifices.
You could not cry.
Eijirou stormed out in a rage, slamming the door behind him. Your eyes opened at the sound, just in time to see Eri flinch. You place a hand atop of hers, trying your best to stay strong, but you gave a wistful smile instead. Even though she had grown into a wonderful young lady who could use her quirk, you knew she still worried about the repercussions of it. She gave you a sad twitch of her lips back before excusing herself, pushing away from the table and leaving the room.
You three were left in a tense silence, and you weren’t going to be the one to break it. You needed to compose yourself before speaking, otherwise there was a high chance the floodgates behind your eyes would burst and all hell would break loose from there. Looking up, your eyes caught green and the anger slowly started to bubble up and come forth.
You knew this wasn’t Deku’s fault, but you couldn’t help the feeling. Was it wrong to hope that this hero, one you have trusted for many years, was mistaken? How was he so sure that it was Katsuki he saw?
How would traveling back to the past, letting him leave behind all of his family and friends, be the answer they were looking for.
You raised a hand to silence him, having heard enough. You stood form your own seated position, hands limp at your side as you just stared blankly ahead. You didn’t want his apology, and he must’ve been hurting just as much as you were. This was his childhood friend after all, growing a stronger bond than you could ever hope to share with the man of your dreams.
You gazed longingly, hoping he would look up and meet your eyes so could commit their color and passion to memory. There was no one who could hold a candle to the greatness of Bakugou, and the fine hero he has become.
The hero you would have to say goodbye to forever.
Your anger melted as the pain took root, growing as tormenting vines which were squeezing your heart till it was to burst in your chest. It was agonizingly painful, and you raised a hand to clutch at your chess in hopes to lessen the pain.
A futile attempt overall.
“I can’t watch you do this Katsuki.. I can’t watch you give your life away.” Your voice cracked, and while you were hurting before, it was nothing compared to now.
Talking about it meant it was real, and you didn’t want it to be.
Bakugou finally glanced at you, his emotions unreadable while did so. The staring contest had the air surrounding it growing thick, the intensity almost too much to handle. Yet you weren’t going to back down, not when his life was on the line.
You were a hero, you were meant to save lives.
You needed to save his.
“Then don’t. Don’t watch me. But I have to do this, you know I do.”
His voice was small but nowhere near frail. He held resolve, one you were hoping to shake.
“(y/n). I have to do this, if not, we’ll all die. Don’t you understand?”
“Of course I understand,” You held your face in your hand and let out a wavering sigh, “I understand, but your life is just as important as anyone else’s-”
“This is my choice. Whether I can come back or not, it doesn’t matter. What matters is-”
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter!?” You yelled, the dam breaking as it trailed down your cheeks.
You volume rose as you knocked your chair back, startling both men.
“You fucking matter, Katsuki! This is a suicide mission and you know it, you act like there may be a chance to bring you back, and everyone knows Goddamn well that there isn’t-”
“You fucking think I don’t know that!” He shouted back, silencing you as you shake in your spot from the ever growing anger.
“Obviously not if you’re still willing to throw your life away! We can find another way, we’ve always been able to find another way, we’ve always been able to come out on top!” You were sobbing and screaming at this point, not caring enough to hide it.
“What if we don’t, huh. You say this like you have an idea yourself. There’s no way we stand a chance against this fucker now that he has One for All. He will be fucking indestructible-”
“No one is indestructible-”
“Oh my God, well that fucker is! that would be a suicide mission either way. And if I can save more lives in turn of my own, I’ll do it. Over and over again.”
You wailed out in frustration, your quirk activating as you smashed the table into millions of broken pieces. Izuku had his own tears streaming down his face as he watched you storm across the remains and grab Katsuki by the front of his costume.
“Deku still has it too!,” You smacked said man’s hands away as he tried to ease you away from the grip you had on Katsuki, “No! There’s no reason to do this, we have to try-”
“I WON’T WATCH YOU DIE. I’D GIVE MY OWN LIFE FOR YOURS, OKAY!? I’LL FUCKING LEAVE EVERYONE BEHIND, EVEN THE ONE I LOVE, AS LONG AS THAT MEANS YOUR SAFE.” He screamed in your face, grabbing your upper arms in a tight and painful hold.
Your sobs and his heavy breathing echoed in the room, his eyes being the only thing you could focus on.
You were a hero.
But if you were a hero, why were you being so selfish?
“I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” Your broken voice whispered out as you buried your face into his chest. His broken sigh filled your ears as he pulled your closer, letting his arms drape around you.
Katsuki looked up, having a brief conversation through the eyes with the other member of the room before he held one arm up.
You felt a weight to your left and glanced to see Deku had joined in, wrapping his arms around the both of you as he cried the hardest. A kiss to your head had you suck in a breath, meeting red once more as love and regret filled them.
You were a hero,
But at what cost?
Always With You, Always With Me
This new Clone Wars trailer got me so fucked up, I had to write something for my precious baby Ahsoka!! So here we go for my first piece for her!
This is 100% of the fluffiest fluff, I am making my own heart melt with this.
Gif not mine
Word Count : 2069
It was the same and yet it was completely different.
Same pain. Same violence. Same blood spilled.
You remembered the Clone Wars well enough, you were a teenager then. Some had called what had followed as a "new peace", but it wasn't. It was the war changing its shape to better linger on.
There was a lot that you had lost since the beginning of the Clone Wars. Actually, there was little you had left at all. But if there was one thing in this messed up galaxy that you wanted to protect and keep, it was the woman lying by your side.
When you met and discovered who Ahsoka was, your first thought was that a former jedi was the last thing you needed. Stars, how you had changed your mind in just a couple of years…
Ever since you had lost your family, you had promised yourself that you wouldn't get attached to anyone again. Love was too much risk to take during a war. And then, Ahsoka had stumbled into your life: an exhausted, out of breath, wounded woman all wrapped in a long blooded cloak. Helping her back to health was the best terrible decision you had ever taken in your life.
Outside, the rising sun painted the tired ruins of Yavin IV with gold. Most in the base were already wide awake. You had signed up long ago as a pilot for the rebellion, and Ahsoka had always been tracking down Sith Lords and fighting for the light, although, most of the time she came to Yavin, it was to see you. She was visiting you here now and then, while she wasn't travelling through the galaxy herself for some obscure reason she always kept hidden from you. Stealing a few moments together whenever you both could was all you could ask for. And as you looked at her sleeping under the golden sun, you were grateful for this moment you shared.
Deep down, you knew it would be a lot to ask to the Force to get another morning like this one. Still, you made the prayer.
Sounds of voices reached you, coming from the corridor. You checked the time: two hours left before your meeting to brief you on your next mission. Two hours left, you wished there could be an infinity instead. Ahsoka seemed to finally wake up by your side. She stretched, very much like a grumpy Loth-cat would have, and the thought brought a tender smile to your lips.
She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but her hand travelled across the bed nonetheless, looking for you through the sheets. Your smile widened at the sight, and you took her hand.
She smiled, turning on her side to face you, her eyelids still closed. You snuggled across the bed closer, until you could kiss her sleepy eyes.
"Morning, beautiful," you whispered, your voice a little raspy with fatigue.
"Hmm… mornin'," she mumbled back, playing with your fingers and moving her body to press against yours, skin against skin.
"Don't recall there was that much rest involved."
It was your time to laugh, but you couldn't deny it, she spoke the truth.
There was still noise coming from the corridor, but you blocked it away from your mind. You had two hours left with her, you didn't intend to waste a single thought on the outside world.
You raised your hand to caress the white forms drawn across her features, and she wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you even closer. She smiled as your fingertips travelled across her forehead and then her cheek. The sunlight made the white areas of her skin golden, like the sky, her eyelashes catching yellow droplets too. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful like this, bathed with dawn.
"So… are you gonna keep your eyes closed all morning then?" you teased, and were not disappointed by her cheeky grin.
"Maybe," she teased.
"That's very cruel of you. What if I want to see your eyes?"
"I guess you'll have to convince me to open them."
"I could carry out a very violent tickle attack. That could do the trick."
She chuckled, her fingertips tracing circular patterns on the small of your back, delicate caresses that made you forget all your scars and all your pain and healed every inch of your broken soul.
"You wouldn't dare. You know how terrible my counter-attack would be."
"I'm reckless, haven't you established that by watching me fly yet?"
"Oh, I know you're reckless, flygirl."
"And you're unable to follow orders."
"Hey! Only unfair ones!"
You both burst out laughing.
"But I think that a kiss would be convincing enough, no need to threaten me with your terrifying tickles," she said mockingly, and if you hadn't loved her that much, you would have been annoyed by that smug tone. But then, you did love her that much, so instead, you complied and kissed her lips.
Which… turned out to be a little more than only one kiss, and more to be a lot of kisses. But then, it was to be expected with the two of you.
Over the kisses, you shifted position and as you finally pulled apart, Ahsoka rested her head against your heart, and listened to its steady rhythm.
Life. Beating. Pulsing. Strength, energy, existence bursting through your veins thanks to this tiny piece of muscle that she was listening to and was all hers. She could feel the force flooding through you, she had always felt it steady and peaceful around your frame. Some used to say, when she was a padawan, a lifetime ago, that the force surrounding a person could show the deepest part of their soul. She was not surprised to find out that yours was full of light.
You remained like this, cuddling, for a while, merely enjoying being together as minutes flew by. But eventually, you had to break the soothing silence that had settled in.
"When are you leaving?" you asked in a whisper.
"Probably when you leave for your own mission."
That was always her response. The stars. In the end, you knew it would be to do something against the Empire, more or less. You didn't know what, you didn't where. It didn't matter. She just couldn't tell you.
She couldn't tell you how fast she was running. She couldn’t tell you what her former Master, this man she trusted, and loved, and admired, had become. She couldn't tell you that she felt like it was partly her fault, that for countless nights she had stared into the shadows of her room and wondered what would have happened to Anakin if she had remained in the Order as his padawan. She couldn't tell you she was running from her past just as much as she tried to repair whatever she could because she felt like it was her who had destroyed it all. She had always felt like it was her fault, maybe because she was one of the few jedi still alive, at first at least. But then she learned about Anakin, and the guilt gnawed at her soul with renewed strength. You knew the truth though, you knew who Vader really was, under that mask and buried beyond all that hatred. You were the one to pick up Ahsoka's pieces and put them back together when she had learnt the truth during that duel. Nevertheless, she had never mentioned it again, and didn't intend to. You were the bright side of her life, she longed to let her demons behind thanks to you. Just like you hoped that by loving her, you would escape these ghosts that followed your every thoughts.
But then, you were there. Bright as a sun, tough as kyber. A strange combination of love and rage. You longed for peace, and wanted revenge. You were not afraid to admit the two sides of your soul. Maybe it was what had attracted her to you so much at first. How fiercely you wanted to destroy the Empire, to avenge all those you had lost, but also to save the ones who remained. You were fierce, just like her. A bright woman too selfless for her own good. Throughout these past couple of years though, you had been more than that to her: you were her home.
She couldn't stay for long. She was too afraid Vader would find a way to trace her back to you, and she would never forgive herself if anything happened to you because of her. She couldn't imagine how to live without you now… But still, she loved you too much to stay away forever, she needed you like she needed air, you were a part of her flooding through her veins, a constant presence more soothing than the Force itself.
She had been trained to avoid these feelings. She had heard what it was supposed to feel like to love someone so much that one's own self wasn't important anymore, only the other. To love someone so completely that your life depended on this love. She hadn't thought it was true.
And then, she met you. And now, despite the risks, she couldn't live without you.
"I'll come back soon, don't worry," she reassured you. "Just… be careful during your mission, alright?"
"Alright. But you ought to be careful too, yes? Investigating Sith Lords business can't always be easy. And I know you won't tell me anything, but I'm also not an idiot, and I know perfectly that's what you're truly up to."
Your voice was a little shaky. She chuckled.
"Worried are we, Ms. Y/L/N?"
But your expression grew more serious, and she knew you weren't trying to joke when you answered.
She gave you a tender smile, moving up to rest her forehead against yours.
"We made a promise to each other a long time ago, I intend to honour it."
"I'll always come back to you."
"And I'll always come back to you."
Before you could add anything else, she was kissing you, deep and slow and loving, making sure to pour all her feelings for you into that kiss. It was like opening floodgates for love to run free. It was opening the door to let out the deepest secret of one's soul, and it was all love and light and care, and you wanted to cry before so much beauty offered to someone like you.
For years you had been certain that all you were was an orphan, one of billions that the wars had created, a fighter in a larger army, only one expendable pawn set on a game of chess the size of a galaxy. You had never thought your life important, not since you had lost everything. You thought you would end up dying alone, forgotten among the count of victims, and you were fine with it. But then Ahsoka had come, and she looked at you with so much love, and so much pride, and so much care, it was painful the way she made you feel so loved. It was too much for your untrained heart to take, this beating organ in your chest that had known nothing but pain for years wasn't ready to be adored. It still felt like all this love was too much, that it made your heart swell and almost burst, almost break your ribcage with all these feelings, to a point that your lungs didn't have enough room in your chest to let you breathe anymore. Like your life mattered all of a sudden. Because she loved you, and if someone like her could love you, then it had to mean that you were someone special too, after all.
You had thought for years that you weren't meant to be loved. But then, Ahsoka had proven you wrong. You reckoned that the best you could do to thank her, was to love her back just as fully and unconditionally as she loved you. And it was the easiest thing you had ever done.
"We'll always be together, right?" you asked her in a breath.
She ran a hand through your hair, offering you the softest of smiles.
"Yes, Y/N. We will. Even when we're apart, I'm always with you, and you're always with me."
Taglist : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @[email protected]
@emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @wangmangagavroche
the small intestines squirm like eels
TW: Period talk
Joan wasn’t feeling good in the first place.
She groaned before her eyes were even open that morning. She cringed when she rolled over, feeling hot slickness between her thighs, and didn’t even want to look at the crime scene that she already knew was lying beneath her blankets. Remaining in the mess, however, was plain gross. It was going to be painful to stand, but if she lays in bed for too long then the fabric will stain, so she has no other choice but to haul herself up and save the bedding.
As if it were that easy.
Joan liked to describe the feeling she just went through as “the floodgates opening” because that’s exactly what it was. She was forced to kneel when the pain flares up, which only seemed to strengthen the flow when her knees parted and her vagina seemed to feel the need to open like a window during a hurricane. She prayed for her ruined undergarments and pajama shorts, which are sticky and wet around her legs, clinging tightly to her skin like they had been glued there.
Eventually, she gets herself to stand and, with trembling hands, carefully and quietly strips the sheets of the bed, relieved to find that the blood hasn’t soaked through to the mattress. She stumbles out of her bedroom, trying to keep the bloodstained part of the sheets angled forward and away from the rest of her body, but her groin was already sopping wet with what was probably twenty-five percent of her body’s blood, so hygiene didn’t really matter in the long run. On the short walk to the washing machine, she feels a slow drizzle of blood ooze its way down her leg and she had to suddenly urge to cut off her entire bottom half just so she wouldn’t have to feel her liquidated shredded uterus tickling against her skin.
Walking is uncomfortable, carrying fish-smelling sheets covered in her own blood isn’t any better, and the wet fabric of her shorts chafe horribly. It only gets worse when she has to stand up on her toes to grab the bottle of detergent on the shelf and she feels her stomach cramp, just to add it to it all.
Joan braces herself up against the washing machine once she starts it, trying to breathe through a particularly bad bouts of cramps. When she finally steps backwards, she cringes at the gross squelching from between her legs- her thighs are so wet she’s sure they’re going to be permanently stained red.
She awkwardly hobbled to the bathroom with fresh clothes and cleans herself up. She considers burning her shorts and undergarments, but she just throws them in the hamper for now (was it good to put them with the other dirty clothes? She didn’t know).
The hot shower she takes helps some, but only when she laid back on her back and let the scalding water patter against her pale, aching abdomen. However, the moment she moved, the cramps seized her lower stomach in a vice grip once again.
All she really wanted to do is curl up in a ball and cry.
But alas. She had a show to run, so she eventually hauled herself up, got ready, and walked to the theater.
In just a few minutes of her trek, the sharp cramps in her stomach had become violent spasms and the dull aching in her back turned into an intense, radiating burn. She was both sick with hunger and too nauseous to eat the granola bar she put in her bag two days ago. Her bladder and bowels ached. She was sweating from the pain of it all, but also shivering and weak from anemia. And, to top it all off was the gross, hot feeling of her uterus being filled to the absolute brim with blood and pressing uncomfortably up against her lower stomach with so much pressure she thought she would burst if the fluids weren’t deposited.
Needless to say, Joan felt like death warmed over with an extra pinch of suffering.
Somehow, she still found herself at the theater thanks to pure muscle memory alone, despite how sick and horrible and disgusting she felt. As much as she wanted to spend the whole day curled up in bed while cuddling her pillow close to her stomach, she knew she couldn’t skip out on rehearsals just because it was her time to suffer the teeth of shark week. The queens and other three ladies in waiting, as well as the female crew members, all suffered through their own every month- hell, they could be bleeding right now as well- and they were able to function just fine, although Bessie does have a tendency to not talk or move around too much, or simply not go out at all. Joan didn’t want to be that girl, especially since the director didn’t like it when someone chickens out just because of a little leaky vagina and stomach pain.
Though, that sounded like an impossible feat with the way that her frame shook from the exertion of standing alone. Joan’s whole body was as heavy as lead, everything in her entire being hurt, and it was all swirling in a kaleidoscope of pain until all she could focus on was how bad she felt. She was sure she could faint- could already feel the faintest numbness slowly creeping in on the edges of her consciousness, but she held strong until she just couldn’t anymore.
One of the worst cramps she’s ever felt in her entire young life hit her when she was in the middle of playing Don’t Lose Ur Head. She had been doing good at giving her usual commands during rehearsals and playing the first two songs, however, her concentration was rudely interrupted when the ovaries at the end of her Fallopian tubes seemed to morph into claws and viciously stab her from the inside, causing her to slam her hands down on the keys of the keyboard and completely ruin the song.
Joan didn’t feel the hot embarrassment that filtered through her- the pain in her stomach overpowered every other sensation in her body. She could, however, miraculously still see through the raging storm of black spots across her vision and saw Anne on the other side of her keyboard, looking absolutely annoyed and confused, like she could see the invisible ovary-claws goring their way out of Joan’s abdomen. The way the queen’s mouth opened and closed as she searched for something to say to the clearly-distressed MD might have made Joan laugh if it weren’t for the fact that laughing pulled the muscles in her stomach even tighter until it felt like they would snap.
“What happened?” Anne finally said.
“Nothing,” Joan grits. She hopes they can’t see the way she’s clutching at her stomach with one hand. “I’m fine-” Nobody has asked if she was okay. “Just- Just give me a moment.”
Anne frowned, probably from annoyance, but nodded and started to converse with Jane.
Joan swallowed thickly and only then realized how thirsty she was. Her water bottle was in her dressing room (she never brought liquids anywhere near her keyboard). She would have to stand up and go get it herself because there was no way she would ask one of the others for help. Not like they would say yes, anyway.
She took several deep breaths and then stood up- too fast. She stood up too fast and now the room is spinning and she needs to regain her balance but there’s nothing to brace herself on.
Joan ends up tottering awkwardly to the side, not seeing all the amused looks she gets because of the stars that flit across her vision. After a moment of awkward floundering, how to walk properly comes back to her and she exits the room, not saying where she was going or why she was walking out on rehearsals.
The theater hallways felt like they were closing in on her. They seemed to be shifting and swaying and crushing her until she couldn’t breathe. Upon stumbling into her dressing room, however, they release her trembling body.
Joan staggers over to her desk (which she careens into on accident) and picked up her water bottle. For once, she wasn’t drinking coffee. In fact, the thought of caffeine repulsed her. All she wanted was the coolness of the water, so she raised the bottle to her lips and-
She was hot. She was so hot, so she tips back a bit further and pours the water over her face. She instinctively sucks at the moisture spilling out over her skin, desperate to quench her thirst, but her brain was now more set on cooling her body before it got cooked inside of her skull.
When most of the water is gone, only then does Joan realize what she’s doing. She jerks up, agitating her stomach and sending a wave of queasiness over her. A hand slaps over her mouth and she holds perfectly still until the nausea recedes, only to be replaced with a horrible cramp. She whimpers and hunches over her desk, feeling simultaneously burning hot and freezing cold. Shivers start to wrack through her body- or had she been shivering this entire time?
There was no time to dwell on this, however, because footsteps were approaching. Joan tried to push herself up and act like she was about to walk out, but she couldn’t move. Not that it would have mattered, anyway. She didn’t have a good excuse for why her face and hairline and shirt were all wet.
The slightly Welsh-tinged accent lets Joan knew that it was Aragon she would have to face. She liked to think that she and the queen had a good relationship, but she didn’t know how she would manage against the frightening lady while like this.
Her name was said louder this time. Not as a question. It was a call- a demand.
“I-” Her voice breaks off. If she tried to speak again it would come out as a whimper. And Aragon hearing that was really not something she wanted to have happen.
Footsteps approach her desk- Aragon is walking towards her. She held her ragged breath, hoping the queen would just go away. But then there’s a hand on her tense back and a tutting noise above her and she knows she’s in for it now.
“My, are your muscles tight.” Aragon crooned from above. She began to massage the area between Joan’s shoulder blades with the heel of her palm, eliciting a sharp gasp from the music director. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’m sorry.” Joan instinctively blurted.
“That’s not what I asked, Juana.”
That was her name in Spanish, wasn’t it? Oh dear. She was in for it now.
Joan shyly looked up at Aragon, who had a surprisingly patient look on her face. Usually the queen would blow her top if someone didn’t reply to her within seconds. Why wasn’t she snapping?
“Well?” Aragon raised an eyebrow.
“I-I...” Joan swallowed thickly. Her cheeks are growing hot by the moment- she wouldn’t be surprised if any water left on her face turned to steam with how hard she was blushing. “I just- I need a moment, that’s all.”
Suddenly, the back of a hand is pressed to her cheeks and she squeaked in alarm. Her blush darkens from hot pink to deep red.
“You’re very warm.” Aragon murmured, concern leaving her voice. Her hand slide up to feel the girl’s forehead. That’s exactly when she notices one of Joan’s hands gripping at her stomach.
A smirk spreads across her lips.
“Oh.” She tittered. “I see.”
Joan froze. Red really didn’t go well with her platinum blonde hair.
“I’m sorry.” She stuttered out. Shame overpowers the cramps. She doesn’t know which one she hates more.
Aragon chuckled and started to walk for the door without another word. The fear of her telling the others sends Joan scrambling after her and latching tightly to her sleeve.
“W-wait!” Joan cried, her voice raising up a few octaves. “P-please don’t tell them! Please, Aragon, I’ll do anything!”
Aragon blinked before she realized what Joan meant. She gently cups either sides of her the girl’s heated face.
“Hush, darling.” Aragon told her. “I’m going to get you some medicine, alright? Just lay down on the couch and wait for me.”
Joan opened and closed her mouth before relenting and nodding. She slumped over on the couch after Aragon left, and that’s when the cramps decide to make themselves known again.
Aragon is only gone for a minute and a half and Joan’s delirium-riddled mind has already began to hiss horrible words of abandonment. Things like: Aragon had lied to her and was telling everyone else or she was just acting like she cared and won’t come back for her. Tears start to brim in Joan’s eyes as the degrading thoughts grew louder and louder. She couldn’t even hear the door to her dressing room open back up again due to how much they screech.
“Juana, Juana, sweetheart,” A hand is gently pressing on her shoulders. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”
Joan’s glossy eyes widen. She saw that Aragon kneeling there, expression twisted with worry. She tries to get to her, but the queen pushes her back down.
“Don’t move.” Aragon scolded lightly.
“Shh, shh,” Aragon hushed her, stroking the girl’s messy, wet hair. “I’m right here, darling. You’re alright.”
“No, no-” One hand moves to grip back at her stomach as Joan shook her head. “It hurts too much, Aragon. I think I’m dying...”
“Don’t be daft,” Aragon said. She notices the embarrassed flush that flames on Joan’s face and she gently caresses her cheek to quell her shame. “Eve’s curse is a terrible one. But I have some medicine here for you.”
She has two pills of Ibuprofen in her hands. She looks back at Joan pitifully.
“I assume you didn’t take anything.”
Joan shook her head slowly.
“Oh, you poor thing...”
“I-I forgot to buy some.” Joan stuttered out weakly. She couldn’t remember if that was true or not. Maybe she just didn’t care enough about her body to by medicine for herself?
“We’ll have to change that whenever you feel better. We can get you proper groceries.” Aragon decided. “For now, take these.”
With minimal difficulty, Joan manages to swallow the pills with the water bottle Aragon she also provided (and this time she didn’t pour it all over herself). She slumped back down on the couch, panting. Heat flashes are becoming more common by the minute. She wants to peel her clothes off, and then her skin, but even then she probably won’t be cool.
“I don’t think- I don’t think I can go back to work.” Joan whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry, Aragon. It- it hurts too much. And I’m so hot... I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Shh...” Aragon murmured. “I understand, pumpkin. I’ll let the others know, alright? You just stay here and rest up.”
“Y-you’re leaving me?” Joan squeaked.
Aragon frowned and she gently strokes Joan’s hair to calm her.
“I have to get back to rehearsals. But I’ll come check on you soon, alright? Then I’ll take you home.”
Joan nodded begrudgingly. She couldn’t hold Aragon back. Besides, a nap sounded nice, anyway...
Joan doesn’t really remember drifting off. Nor does she remember being woken up and escorted out to a taxi by a golden angel, but, somehow, she’s in her flat when she wakes up and the wonderful smell of something is wafting through the air.
When she tries to sit up, a cramp stabs at her and she collapses back down with a hiss. Dizziness washes over her and she waits for the world to stop spinning. There’s a face peering down at her when she opens her eyes again.
“There’s my sweet girl.” Aragon purred, smiling lovingly. She chuckles at the way Joan blinked up at her adorably. She helps her sit up. “Have a good nap?”
“Mhm...” Joan replied sleepily. She looked around. “How...?”
“You don’t remember coming home?” Aragon tilted her head. “You really were tired, huh?”
“I guess so...” Joan said, then winced. She squeezed her aching stomach tightly. “Ow ow ow...”
Aragon quickly retrieves some more painkillers and a glass of water, which Joan gratefully takes. She also notices that the queen is offering her a tampon and she blushed shyly.
“Oh, I- I don’t use tampons.”
Aragon furrowed her eyebrows.
“They scare me.”
Aragon blinked. Joan quickly jumped up and hurried to the bathroom. She heard laughter from behind her and she couldn’t help but smile giddily at the fact that her flat with filled with such a sound. She wasn’t alone.
So, when she came out of the bathroom, the first thing she did was hug Aragon from behind as she was preparing lunch and whisper her thanks. Aragon replied by setting her hands over Joan’s own and squeezing lightly and, from her soothing touch, the dull pain in Joan’s stomach ebbs completely.
FFXIV Write 2020
Prompt #9 - Hurt to Heal
Lush - ‘luxuriant, succulent’
- Warnings of Heavensward Spoilers -
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
The darkened chirurgeon’s room did little to help Katsum’s mind rest. The events of the day weighed heavily on her mind and kept her from sleeping, and it kept her mind reeling at even the slightest of sounds. She heard the cold, snowy winds pushing against the windows, the whistling sounding like a howl of agony to her. Somewhere down the long halls of Congregation, she could hear the distant sound of footsteps that seemed to get louder and closer before suddenly stopping, sending her mind in a panic. She knew not how long she laid there, tossing and turning, until she could stand it no longer. With a desperate sigh, she sat up and reached over to the bedside table to light the lamp sitting on it. As its faint glow illuminated the room around, the blonde Miqo’te leaned back against the headboard, looking down at her hands in silence.
She noticed her fingers were trembling like she was still in battle, the memories of fighting with the Heavensward flashing before her eyes. She winced as she remembered the struggle against the knights, the booming of Thordan’s distorted voice ringing in her ears. She did not mourn the Archbishop, only the men he dragged down with him. And then there was Estinien, the thing she truly could not get off of her mind. Everytime she closed her eyes, she saw Nidhogg’s wrath wrapping around him and engulfing him, manipulating his form and twisting it into the shade of the Dreadwyrm himself. She should have known better to give him the second eye; something had told her not to but by then he had already taken it into his hand. Now, he was at the mercy of the dragons rage, powerless to fight against its thrall. Yet another soul she had failed to save, this one just more inches from her.
Katsum’s hands began to tremble violently, her body quivering as her walls began to crumble. There was no one here to see her mask break, and in knowing so, her heart could stand it no longer. She felt a tear slip down her cheek and she bit her tongue to keep from sobbing. She needed to stay quiet so no one could hear her.
Then suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door, the sound making her jump in place and her fur stand on end.
“Lady Katsum? Are you still awake?”
Her breath shook as she frantically wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to steady her voice before answering, “Ser Aymeric, I did not expect you to still be here this late.”
She heard him shuffle at the door, yet it did not open, “I'm afraid I could not sleep so I thought I would return and see how you were faring.” Again, he shuffled, almost nervously, “May I come in, my friend?”
Her heart dropped along with her ears, panic rising. No one was supposed to see her like this, on the brink of the flood overflowing the walls. She stumbled slightly in her words as she replied, “I-I’m not really feeling up to having any visitors right now.”
“Please. Just a few moments of your time,” He was always so suave in the way he spoke, pleading so gently that she could not refuse him.
Indeed, she certainly couldn’t, “Alright.”
The door creaked open slowly and Ser Aymeric de Borel slipped quietly into the room, closing the door behind him. As he turned towards her, she could see his warm smile lighting up the shadows, his eyes sparkling with kindness as he looked at her. As he crossed the room, she noticed a mug in his hand, a small plume of steam rising from it. He moved around to the side of her bed nearest the bedside table, “After all that has happened today, I have no doubt that the only thing you crave right now is rest. However,” She followed his hand with her eyes as he held out the cup to her, “In light of the most recent events, I thought you might enjoy a mug of tea. It has always comforted me in times of hardship, and I hope it might do the same for you.”
It took her a few moments before she reached out with her trembling hands. She knew he had seen by the way he watched her, but he said nothing as she gingerly took the mug from him, “Thank you, Ser Aymeric.”
He stood there watching her, and so she guessed he was waiting for her reaction, so she looked down at the steaming, caramel colored drink and lifted it to her nose. She breathed in the scent and it was the most lovely tea she’d ever smelled. The aroma of the boiled Coerthan tea leaves that she knew well mixed with hints of vanilla and something like a syrup had her mouth watering. She shakeningly lifted the mug up and took a small sip, careful not to burn her tongue. The moment the taste of the tea hit her tongue, her ears twitched upward, and her eyes widened. She took another long sip of the ambrosia-like drink before pulling it away to look back up at the raven-haired Elezen.
He seemed to be chuckling inside by the look of the sparkle in his eyes, “Do you like it?”
“I..I love it. Thank you so much...”
He nodded, then as if suddenly remembering something, he turned and scanned the room. He moved over to a shelf of potions and medicines, searching among them until he found an empty one, stepping back over beside her to the pitcher of water left on the windowsill and filling the empty bottle with water. Katsum watched him curiously, taking long sips of the tea every few moments as she did.
“Master Thancred also gave me this, saying that I should bring it to you, that it would make you feel better,” As he turned back towards her holding the bottle in hand, her eyes widened and her fur stood on end at the flower that now stood in it. A bright red Azyema’s Rose stared back at her, its lush petals and leaves nearly shining through the dark with its own brilliance. He brought it over to her and placed it on the table beside the bed, “I hope it brings you joy and helps you rest.”
She did not answer, only stared at the flower. Memories flooded her mind again, of her childhood and the roses like this one that decorated her childhood home. She thought of her parents and how much she missed them, and how much she missed all that she once knew. She thought of the day she and Thancred investigated the Amalj’aa camps in Eastern Thanalan and she had found the rose on the cliffside overlooking the shrine built for Azyema, how she’d plucked it and keep it with her ever since. Now, another rose shone before her, given to her by a man she had failed entirely by not bringing his best friend home...she did not deserve this…
“I am taken enough of your time. Rest well, my friend. I shall check on you in the morning,” She blinked as he said this, seeing him turn away and she quickly reached out a hand and grabbed his arm, causing him to stop and look back at her in surprise. Yet she could not bring herself to look him in the eye as she tried to hide the coming tears, her heart fit to burst right then and there.
“How...how do you remain so warm and hopeful towards me...when all i did this day was fail you…?” The first tear rolled down her cheek and she clutched the mug of tea tightly as her ears flattened and she bowed her head lower, “I stopped Thordan and his enthralled followers, yes, but I lost Estinien. Lost him to an enemy that we were supposed to have vanquished...How can you still be so kind to me when I did not bring your dearest friend back home with me…?”
She saw him shuffled out of the corner of her eye, then felt his warm hand enclose around hers, the other appearing in her field of vision as he took the tea from her and set it on the table. He then knelt in front of her and held both of her hands in his, “Do not for a moment believe that I blame you for what happened. Estinien knew the risks when he volunteered to go, and he had to follow his heart to do his duty. But I know with all of mine that you did everything in your power to save him.” His grip on her hands tightened and he moved his face down to try and meet her eyes, “You have not failed anyone, Katsum. Not a single person.”
With these words, he broke the floodgates of her heart and set free her emotions, tears streaming freely down her face as she cried out in sorrow. She tugs away her hands to cover her face, yet Aymeric follows her and moves to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly. The warmth of his body felt so safe and inviting, and so she buried her face in his chest and wept. The Elezen leaned his head against hers and whispered in her cat-like ear, “It’s alright. I’ve got you, Katsum. You are safe here.”
She is not sure how long she sobbed into him, not sure how long. They remained in this embrace. She only knew that she never wanted to leave it, hoping time would freeze and she could just stay right here with him, forever. When finally her cries quieted, she drew away from him, moving back to where she had been sitting as she wiped her eyes, feeling exposed and vulnerable, “I’m sorry that you had to see that...”
Aymeric smiles warmly, “I am not. Rather, I am honored that you allowed me the privilege to see,” He took her hands again, reaching up with one to wipe her tears away with his thumb, “You are the strongest person I know of to carry all that you do and not bend or break. To be truthful, I feel more relieved to know that you do let your mask fall every once in a while, letting your heart be free to hurt and to heal afterwards.”
Katsum closed her eyes as fresh tears fell, moving to hold his hand against her hand and lacing her fingers with his. She felt him lean forward for a moment and then stop to ask, “May I kiss your forehead?”
Her eyes flashed open as she registered what he said, looking back at him as a soft blush broke out on her face, for which she was thankful for the dim lighting, “You may...”
Aymeric smiled and leaned in and kissed the crown of her head gently, his warm lips making the blush on her face darken as he sat back again.
Katsum’s eyes flicker around him, looking everywhere but his own as she held fast to his hands, “Could I bother you a bit longer for your company, Ser Aymeric…? Just until...I feel I can fall asleep…?”
The Lord Commander’s smile brightened, “It would be an honor...though I must also ask because I worry...you do like the rose, yes?”
It was her turn to smile - genuinely smile - as she nodded, “I love it.”
29 “Slowly, the words dripping from your tongue like honey” for Marisol x MC (ways I say I love you thing x)
Thank you for the ask again, I had a lot of fun with just writing scenery and I hope you enjoy! <3
~1.5k this time
The bass thumps through speakers, a thundering pulse that soaks into everyone’s skin, shaking them to their core as they bob and sway to the nearly overwhelming rhythm. It attacks their senses, their nerve endings, their heartbeat, collapsing and rebuilding them from the inside out, a parasite abusing its power and leaving them as nothing but hollow bodies moving through the familiar motions.
Violet feels empty as she stands on the edge of the makeshift dance floor, the finale’s afterparty in full swing before her. Ex-Islanders flood the lawn, drinking and chatting, dancing and grinding, networking and arse-kissing, but Violet isn’t with them. She’s sipping gin, a drink that was shoved in her hand by an overexcited Chelsea, numbly observing the mass of bodies before her.
Her world is crumbling as the other attendees' lives take sharp turns for the better, but she’s not upset, or bitter, or resentful of those smiles and forced laughs as they mingle with influencers and producers. She doesn’t care about any of that, not anymore. Not since Rocco stole Marisol for the night, not since Marisol beamed at him as if he was the only reprieve in a torrential downpour.
They’ve laughed and chatted for an eternity to Violet, the world beyond the Villa could have fallen into disrepair and chaos for all they know, yet the pair are carrying on as if Violet hasn’t been zombified, immune to anything but her brain melting inside her head, muscle and tissue collapsing until she’s hollow, nothing but witness to the most heart-breaking and tear-jerking sight she could ever imagine.
Marisol’s head falls back with laughter, her entire body shaking with the force as Rocco beams, pride overflowing from every pore of his body as she attempts to reign in her chuckles. It’s only then, in the next instant, the next still frame, that finally Violet feels something, as awful and horrific as it is.
She downs the last of the gin, turning on her heel and scanning for any escape or distraction, anything to wipe the sight of Rocco’s hand on her arm from Violet’s mind, anything to make this less real, anything to take her back to just a few hours ago, when the future seemed so bright and promising, an ember that could not be extinguished.
Now it’s been ripped from Violet’s hands, the rug pulled out from under her by Marisol herself, the brightest star in the sky to Violet. A star that’s impossible to diminish, that provided light in the darkest of corners, the most isolated of alcoves. Only Violet doesn’t want the starlight to follow her for once, she doesn’t want Marisol to haunt her, she wants to be able to run and hide in the dark, to leave the world of the waking and settle for the world of the numb and hollow.
And she tries, she tries to find somewhere free from Marisol’s overbearing, breath-catching presence, but she can’t, and she knows she can’t, maybe she never will be able to. So she elects to pursue her second option: distraction. She finds Chelsea’s bright hair and dress, Henrik and Elijah with her. Her head bops as she chatters away, the boys smiling kindly at her as she spews sentence after sentence.
Violet comes to a halt beside her, forcing her legs to freeze in place even as she wants to run, forcing her nerves to settle even as they want to explode inside of her, forcing her face to relax and her lips to smile, even as she wants to scream or burst into tears - maybe both.
“Babes!” Chelsea chirps, smiling wide at Violet now beside her and pulling her into an oddly positioned but well meaning side-hug. She doesn’t notice the tension in Violet’s body or the cracks in her face, the strain in her voice. The lads don’t either, not that Violet expected them to. She only hoped, in the darkest, roped off recesses of her mind that Chelsea would pull her aside, that maybe she’d berate Marisol and tell Rocco he’s disgusting, or maybe she’d just get Violet another drink to numb the heartache.
But Chelsea just starts back in on her chatter, the words lost on Violet as she stares into her empty drink, her weight shifting from foot to foot every minute or so. Her brow furrows as she stares at the glass in her hand, a picture of strength and capability, but fragile and frail, easy enough to break into shards that cut and sting with one wrong move, one slip up or sweaty palm. It takes one collision, one obstacle to leave it useless and the image of weakness.
An arm snakes around Violet’s waist, kickstarting her heart and sending her careening back to Earth. Marisol smiles softly at her, nails trailing up and down Violet’s hip as she meets her gaze with affection swimming inside her coffee eyes. It dissolves in an instant, however, coffee boiling with concern as her brows pinch together. She glances around the group, finding Chelsea, Henrik, and Elijah enthralled in their conversation.
Her hand retracts from Violet’s body, slipping in Violet’s hand and entangling their fingers, gently tugging her along to the poolside, the emptiest place on the lawn, light barely angled to the water and reflecting off the gentle waves. Marisol carefully sits along the edge, her hand trapped in Violet’s, though she doesn’t urge or pull her, her thumb running along Violet’s knuckles as she stares into the dark, obscured water.
Violet stands frozen for a moment, her lungs tight as she tries to pull as much breath into them as she can. Her airways feel small and blocked, like a crowded highway stuffed with cars, not enough gaps between them for oxygen to slip through the cracks. Her eyes flicker closed, stars sparkling behind them, stars that still don’t shine as bright as the one gripping her hand gently.
She slowly lowers herself to the poolside, eyes glued shut as she pulls her heels off, sliding her legs into the cool water of the pool to give her body a sensation to focus on other than Marisol beside her. Other than Marisol’s hand in hers, a hand that could be just as tainted as her bicep was only a short while ago.
The hand pulls away, leaving a hollow, cold gap where it had been, the absence of warmth yanking away any peace the water on Violet’s skin may brought. After a single heartbeat, her face is delicately guided towards the star, a thumb brushing on her jaw and a knee pressing into her thigh. “Vida, are you okay?” Her voice is low, worry leaking from each syllable.
Violet’s eyes flick open, finding dark eyes staring back at her, and any dismissal of the ache in her chest collapsing without resistance into empty air on her tongue. She swallows harshly, throat suddenly raw as the words she wants to say choke her with no remorse, clinging to the walls of her throat to avoid release. “Vida?” Marisol whispers the name, breaking the floodgates inside of Violet with a single word.
“Are we over? Do you… Was it fake? Are you leaving me for Rocco? Was I stupid to think it was more than just a show? Do you not actually... love me?” Her voice starts rough and desperate, ending with a splintering crack that leaves her cringing into herself, wanting to run and hide from her own mind, from her own voice and words.
Her eyes snap shut once again, the world a distant memory as she attempts to ignore it, to ignore the hand cupping her jaw, the body close enough to reach for, the dark, shadowed eyes staring at her every feature, inspecting them for cracks. “Vida…” Marisol carefully urges, thumb still grazing along Violet’s skin.
She doesn’t oblige, shaking her head the slightest fraction, afraid to hear the words she knows are coming, the words that confirm her suspicions, the words that paralyse her, freeze her with her legs still in the pool’s cool water.
Marisol’s hands land on Violet’s cheeks, warmth soaking through Violet’s skin as her breath speeds up, not quite ragged and panicked, but uneven and nervous. “Vida…” Tears prickle behind Violet’s eyes, threatening to spill over and stream through Marisol’s fingers.
Marisol leans close, her breath ghosting along Violet’s lips, her breath hitching at the whisper on her skin, “I love you…” every letter is slow and accented as they escape her throat, “and only you.” The words sound as heavy and saccharine as honey and amber, candied and precious. And Violet believes them, she believes them in a heartbeat as they seep into her bloodstream, thick and intoxicating as they fill her veins, her throat, her lungs.
She goes weak in the knees, muscles quivering under her skin at the glint and spark she finds in Marisol’s eyes when she finally opens hers, the warmth of her palms on Violet’s cheeks, the fading of the world around them until the only sensation in the universe is Marisol’s fingers brushing her skin delicately, like the person within her grasp is the most precious treasure in all of history.
Violet darts forward, capturing Marisol’s red-stained lips with her own, forcing every drop of her heart to spill into Marisol’s mouth, her own syrup-coated tongue sending a shiver through Marisol’s entire being. And Violet relishes it, slipping her arms around the body against her, pulling her even closer.
Sickly sweet and impossibly delectable, a perfect, cherished flavor on Violet’s taste buds as the party rages on, the couple by the water forgotten in the chill, dark night as they themselves forget the ex-Islanders and everyone with them, hypnotised by dripping, trickling honey.
Can’t Leave Her Side
Pairing: Jared Cameron x fem!reader
Summary: She could die and it would be all his fault.
Word Count: 2.8k
Warnings: lots of angst, kinda sad
A/N: Listen, I don’t think I’m a good writer so bear with me this could be terrible! Let me know what you guys think of it!
Beep. Beep. The rhythmic sound of the heart monitor lulled me into a fitful sleep. The slightest noise from the hallway had me jumping to my feet to look at her. Each time I closed my eyes the scenes replaying behind my lids made me shudder. I had done this to her, she was lying in a hospital bed because I couldn’t control my anger. Bile rose in the back of my throat and I choked it back down, hating every single aspect of myself as I did so. If anyone's life should be hanging in the balance it should be mine.
The gashes my claws had made started at her chin and ran down the side of her body, over her ribcage and stopped just below her hip bone. They went so deep she had almost bled out in front of me. The deep red liquid gushed from her body as I stood helplessly, my body frozen to the spot watching in horror. I had felt someone pulling me in different ways to slip clothes onto my body before anyone got there. Now I sat in a hospital room in the same clothes they had put me in a week earlier not being able to stand leaving her side.
She hadn’t woken up since I had hurt her. The doctors say she lost so much blood that it was a miracle she even made it to the hospital alive and now every minute she lived was an act of something more than a miracle. I winced as another memory flashed in my mind from the day I did this to her.
“This all came at me so fast, Jared! What did you expect me to do?” she screamed at me as she ran walked quickly down the wide tree lined path we were taking. A month ago I had told her I had imprinted on her and explained everything about the Quileute legends. We had known each other since childhood, growing up as neighbors on the reservation and hung out here and there. There had always been something about her that I liked before I became a wolf but when I saw her for the first time after it had all heightened.
I knew she had a boyfriend but after I told her about imprinting and explained the legends to her I thought she had gotten rid of him. We had agreed to just be friends for a while so she could get used to everything and figure things out in her own time. In my mind it only made sense that she would break up with him so that she could have a clear head to think everything over.
“You know everything, I told you everything and you still haven’t broken up with him?” I asked trying to even out my breathing. She was so close to me and I couldn’t risk getting so angry that I phased and hurt her. She whipped around quickly and I stopped dead in my tracks watching her. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes held rage.
“I don’t even know if this ‘imprinting’ thing is real, Jared. I’m supposed to just trust some tribe legend? Yes, I’ve seen you turn into a wolf but that doesn’t mean that ‘imprinting’ shit is real. For all I know it could be something some creepy ass dude in your tribes history created to be with a girl who didn’t actually want him so he made something up to force her to be with him,” she huffed out, clenching her jaw when she was done. I stepped back and thought for a moment before I spoke.
“Do you not feel anything when you’re around me? Because I feel so much, I have so many emotions when I’m around you. I feel overjoyed, the happiness can be so much that I can literally feel my heart is about to burst in my chest.” she didn’t move as I spoke, her expression softening with each word that came out of my mouth. I moved closer to her and grabbed her face gently with my hands. She looked up at me with big eyes, tears about to spill over.
“I’m just scared, Jared.” she confessed. She put her hands over mine, her touch made me have to suppress a shudder. “Being with him is something I know, it’s easy because it’s always been like that. Everything with you is new and some of it is terrifying. You turn into a freaking wolf for Christs sakes!”
“I’ll be there for you every step of the way, we do what you want to do when you want to do it. You call the shots here.” I told her leaning down to rest my forehead against hers. This is the closest we’ve ever gotten. Her lips were merely inches from mine and my brain screamed at me to press my own against them. It was over when she closed her eyes and sighed, moving to stand on her tiptoes and press her body closer to mine.
Just as our lips were about to touch her phone started to go off. She laughed lightly and pulled away from me but I didn’t find it funny at all. Every time I came close to having her be all mine something interrupted and it was usually her boyfriend. She was biting her lip as she read over whatever was on the screen, her eyes darting up to me then back down to her phone. My body started to shake.
“Who is it?” I asked as I started to shake harder. She looked up at me like a deer caught in the headlights, confirming with just her look who it was. I backed away from her and held my arms up to keep her from getting closer to me.
“Jared, it’s not-” she started taking a few steps toward me. I wanted to shout at her to stop and get away but it was too late. I was bursting out of my clothes before I could do anything, my two front flailing out in front of me and coming into contact with something soft. I smelled the blood immediately and heard a small thump on the ground. I gathered my bearing and looked down to see her, clothes torn and blood gushing out of her body.
“Jared?” I jumped when my name was called, pulling me out of my memory. Sam was standing in the doorway of her room, he looked like a wreck. He had bags under his eyes and five o’clock shadow on his face. The whole incident had probably brought up bad memories for him. He tried to have a reassuring smile on his face as he took a couple steps into the room.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him, though I already knew. Every member of the pack had shown up here to try and get me to leave for a while. They wanted me to shower, change my clothes and eat something but I couldn’t even begin to think of leaving her side.
“You know why I’m here, you look god damn awful, Jared,” He took a seat next to me and rested his elbows on his knew, clasping his hands in front of his mouth. “You need to go clean yourself up and get some rest.”
“I can’t leave her side,” I choked out as I began to sob. My body shook violently as the tears flowed down my face. “The doctors said it’s not looking good and if she-if she-”
“I know,” Sam replied back knowing I wouldn’t be able to choke out the words. She hadn’t woken up in a week and there was a real possibility she wouldn’t ever and the thought of me having been the one to kill her was killing me.
Sam’s hand patted my back before rubbing it for a minute to try and reassure me. The tears flowing out of my eyes burned, the lack of sleep and how dry the hospital was, had done a number on them. This wasn’t the first time I had cried, the first time was when her parents showed up and I told them an animal had attacked her. They had no idea that it was me who had done it and the guilt overtook me and I was on my knees sobbing with my fists pounding the floor.
“You’re still here?” A voice asked from the doorway. The woman looked like she had been punched in both eyes, the bags under them were so prominent. Her mother hadn’t slept much, maybe even less than me but she had forced herself to leave the hospital to change clothes and eat. Though I could tell that she hadn’t been eating much, the evident bagginess of her clothes giving it away. “She would want you to at least go home and shower. I’ll call you if anything happens, you know that.”
“No, I’m staying.” I mumbled trying to sound polite but serious. I wasn’t going anywhere and I needed everyone to know that. Her mom looked at her with her lips forming a tight line, her eyes begging me to leave. I was going to have to relent, it was selfish of me to not let her have time alone with her daughter. She didn’t know anything about me having imprinted on her daughter and therefore didn’t understand my need to stay.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up,” Sam said grabbing me by my shirt and pulling me to stand next to him. My legs felt like jello beneath me as we made our way out the door. I turned back one time before leaving, her mother had begun to comb through her hair and apply dry shampoo.
Sam drove me back to my house in silence. He didn’t know what to say and I didn’t want him to say anything. Nothing could be said to me right now that would do me or anyone else any good. We turned down the street to my house and as it came closer into view my chest tightened. My whole body started to realize I had actually left her behind and tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I blinked a few times to get them to go away and said a gruff ‘thanks’ and ‘goodbye’ to Same before quickly getting out his car.
I ended up taking a longer shower than I intended. Waiting for the water to heat up felt like forever but once I got in the floodgates opened and I couldn’t stop crying. No one was home or they would’ve been all over me trying to get me to calm down. It was until I ripped the showerhead from the wall that I knew what was happening. With the flimsy metal clutched in my hand I evened out my breathing and stopped crying. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to picture something good.
“Can you show me again?” she asked, her eyes sparkled with excitement. She had her hands clasped together in her lap, her shoulders shaking with excitement. A week ago I had imprinted on her and wasted no time telling her everything. The first time I phased in front of her she had been scared but now a few days later, she wanted me to do it again.
“Sure!” Phasing was second nature to me, I could do it on the fly. I let my clothes fall from my body so I didn’t ruin more of them and phased. She squealed with excitement as my wolf form burst forward in front of her. She jumped up from her seat on a giant rock and walked toward me. Her eyes looked over every inch of me and then her head shot up like she had gotten an idea.
“Can I climb on your back?” She asked quietly, her eyes darting to my back then back to me. I nodded my head and laid down so she could climb on easily. Once she was sitting with her hands securely gripping my fur I took off into the forest.
The whole time her squeals of excitement never stopped. Every few minutes she yelled out about how awesome this all was and how much she loved it. Each word and giggle sent shocks straight to my heart. Nothing could ever feel better than this.
When Sam imprinted I had thought it was so weird, his thoughts always going back to Emily. Every time she flashed across his mind everyone in the pack could sense how much her loved her with every fiber of his being. I hoped and prayed that that didn’t happen to me, I never wanted to lose myself to a girl but this was indescribable.
None of it was weird, at least on my end. The thought of her very existence kept me breathing, the sight of her made my heart beat. Seeing her smile and hearing her laugh made the sun break through all the rainy days. I didn’t care how gushy I sounded to the rest of the pack, this was the best feeling in the world and I hoped and prayed they all got to feel like this one day.
Sam drove me back to the hospital an hour later. He didn’t come in with me but told me everything was going to be okay before he drove off. It didn’t look like it was going to be okay and my gut told me not to get my hopes up.
My hands were stuffed into the pockets of my jeans as I trudged through the hospital. I kept my head down, not wanting to talk to anyone and just wanting to get to her room as quickly as I could. When I turned the corner to the hall her room was on I could hear a couple voices. One was her moms and the other was her dads, who must have shown up while I was gone. There was a third voice, so quiet I couldn’t make it out till I got closer. When I was close enough, my heart skipped a beat.
“Jared,” she whispered as I plowed through the door in her room. She was awake, looking at me with a small smile on her face and her tired eyes shining. Her parents stood next to her bed, her mother was holding her hand and her dad had his arm around her mom.
“You’re awake,” I said back sounding out of breath. My heart rate was picking up and I could feel the relief rushing through my body so quickly it was almost making me collapse. She nodded slightly at me and looked up at her parents, silently begging them to leave. Her mother brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead before ushering her father out of the room. We stared at each other for a minute once we were alone.
“Jared,” she started but I shushed her and walked to kneel by her bed. She took my hand in hers and gripped it. I kissed the back of her hand as I began to cry for what felt like the millionth time that day.
“I’m sorry, there is nothing I can say to make this better. You could’ve died and it would’ve been all my fault because I couldn’t let you figure things out for yourself, I-” She cut me off my gripping my hand tighter and pulling me to her.
“Jared, you didn’t mean for any of this to happen. If I blamed you in any way I would have you kicked out of here in a heartbeat,” she told me. She let go of my hand to wipe the tears from my face. “I should’ve figured things out faster, I knew I wanted to be with you I can just be stubborn sometimes.”
“This is not your fault, I-” she cut me off again, a little giggle leaving her. She shook her head at me and gripped my hand again. She pulled lightly signalling me to move closer to her. She puckered her lips at me and I hesitated. She made an impatient kissing sound and pulled me again. This time I leaned in carefully and pressed my lips against her.
It felt like fireworks were going off all around us. Her soft lips moved against mine so naturally, little sighs leaving her mouth every time she parted her lips for me. The kiss was over way too soon but the sight of her smiling up at me made it feel better.
“Once I’m all healed we are going to do that a lot more,” she informed me smiling mischievously up at me. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of kissing her more. The last week of thinking she was going to die was gone and the future ahead of us was bright and I couldn’t be more ready for it.