#not their fault they only know how to process emotions through strangling each other | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bakugosbratx · 3 years ago

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Warning: NSFW 18+ Content. Sexual intercourse, angst, pregnancy, cursing, fluff, degrading, etc.

Words: 1.6k

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A/N: I just realized there isn’t much talking at all. I’ll make up for it in part four. This shit is sad. I am sad so it’s fitting. I’m sorry in advance. I hope you enjoyed.

Part Two | Finale

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @lanarist @peachsenpie @milkthistletea @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @lil-miminini @tremendouswolfsaladranch @ssplague @vinny-likes-to-play21

Not every story has a happy ending. Y/N is learning this the hard way.

“CEO of Bakugo Industires, Katsuki Bakugo, shows off his new girlfriend at the Industry Ceremony tonight—“

You turn your phone off. Your red, swollen tear filled eyes could not look at the words and pictures anymore. The press sure did know how to capture the model’s perfect angles. A courtesy they would never give you if you were ever lucky to fill her shoes.

The way Katsuki’s muscular arm snaked around her tiny little waist made you fall ill. The flash of his glamorous smile filled your broken one with rage.

Your ears are filled with the salty liquid that flowed from your orbs. You are not even sure how you are still breathing. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t feel like this. You are just fuck buddies.

Were just fuck buddies.

The words will not stop replaying in your head. It’s been over a month. It’s spinning on a broken record player. All the emotions you felt in that moment intensify with each passing day. You should hate him for abandoning you, but your heart cannot do so. All you wanted was him.

You knew better than to fall for Katsuki. He told you to keep your feelings out of your sexual relations with him yet here you are, sobbing into your bedroom pillow, a growing fetus inside of you.

The room felt restricting of your oxygen supply. The ceiling fan sent chills down your warm spine. Your body aches and your throat feels dry. Katsuki’s cruel words along with his actions strangle you. You have not been able to see straight since.

The next couple of months of work are pure hell. You did your best to avoid Katsuki and he did the same. You noticed that Katsuki did not look at you as you were the only one in the room anymore. He seemed to look past you. If you dared meet those beautiful crimson eyes for even a slight moment, you were left feeling disgusted with yourself. Katsuki has a way of speaking without actually doing so. You adored and hated that about him.

Whenever he addressed you for business matters, you had trouble formulating sentences. Your eyes always seemed to be puffy from the endless nights of hysterical tears. Katsuki’s voice held more aggression than you are used to. Maybe you wanted him to at least have some sympathy, but that was nowhere to be found. He soon stopped inviting you to meetings.

You two did a wonderful job of finding the long way around the office building. Any precaution there was to take, you both did, but no plan is bulletproof and you are going to see each other at some point.

You two have not seen each other in over a month — almost two — and you have been feeling stronger than before. Less weeping nights, you are back to eating a normal diet, and you are more well rested. The bags under your eyes became less noticeable, but they still lingered longer than one would prefer.

You dried off your hands in the restroom — the one furthest from you and Katsuki’s office — and headed out to get back to work. The hallway is quite vacant around this time of day. Everyone is either on lunch or too focused on their work before packing up for the day. Your heels echoed amongst the marble floor. Looking up, your breath hitched.

Your eyes met the ones you desperately wanted to despise. Yours held sadness and desperation while he held anger and disgust. The way Katsuki viewed you, you started to view yourself. Even if it isn’t your fault.

The glance was only a maximum of five seconds, but those five seconds felt like a decade for you two. A period of time you would come to mentally plead for overtime.

You have not seen him for another three weeks after that. The cycle repeated: you sobbed, and sobbed some more, and then you started to cry less.

Then it happened.

You are coming into work late due to a doctor's appointment. The baby is healthy as are you so that is lovely news. Something you would love to share with Katsuki if he even remembered your name.

The elevator was taking its sweet time getting up to the floor where your office is located. You felt strong. How could you not? Your baby is going to be okay from the looks of it. A little human is excited to meet you and you are becoming excited to meet them.

Maybe things are starting to fall into place.

Elevator doors open. You begin to walk forward but come to a halt with the man standing in front of you; Katsuki Bakugo.

Your heart races with your bottom lip begging to quiver. You do your best to hide it though as you brush past one another. A jolt of electricity shot through you. The slightest graze of his calloused fingertips felt so rigid yet so soft. Your instincts force you to look up to see the stranger peer down at you. The stranger you used to know.

“See me, Katsuki. See me as the woman you used to know.” You mentally beg. You just wanted him to see you as somebody. Somebody he used to want.

Katsuki paused there, speaking to you through his eyes. This time, they did not hold as much disgust as before. Maybe it’s the hormones, but you could have sworn you witnessed longing within the roots of his irises. If Katsuki was capable of processing his emotions and allowing them to show, he would write them on his features. He remains stone cold, preventing his fingertips from latching onto yours. So, awkwardly they lay, both of your breaths caught in your windpipes until Katsuki decides to break free of the shackles.

You attempted to be in Katsuki’s space more. You knew him like a book just like he did for you. You both learned each other’s frequent routines.

Awkward encounters became more frequent and you both secretly looked forward to them. Long stares that withheld unspoken phrases. Katsuki’s gazes turned from disgust to softness. Especially with your stomach starting to show as the months rolled on. Still, not a word was spoken

The corporate office began to talk. Chatter amongst Katsuki’s employees disturbed his peace of mind. He knows he has to address you at some point, but what is there to say? What could Katsuki even begin to formulate for you to understand where he is coming from? You are due sooner than he is comfortable with. There is no hiding your stomach.

You never asked a penny from him. Hell, you have not even tried to speak to him since that night. You only spoke when formally addressed. Even that was rare.

Katsuki replays that night a lot while laying in bed. He claims what you two had was just two coworkers having sexual intercourse, but nothing can hide the way he moans your name when he masturbates or has sex with someone else. The way he sees you in every female he comes into contact with. Nothing can hide the way his natural rapid heartbeat stops by the mention of your beautiful name. Don’t even get him started on the way you purposely would get on his nerves. They are all part of the list of delicate little things he missed.

You have every right to hate him. Katsuki would not blame you if you did. His hatred for himself reflected in his actions which ultimately was passed onto you. You carried that burden. He would search for the reflection of his anger in your orbs, but they held none. They held nothing but sadness and love. Love he refuses to accept.

Katsuki laid in bed, alone, allowing his mind to wander. He cursed you for keeping him awake. He is a busy man with things to do yet your features haunt him. The thought of someone else touching you the way he does killed him. He knows he would have heard muttering by now if you went to his rival yet there is silence.

You are silent.

You are falling deep into your peaceful slumber. Something you have been doing more lately. You no longer need the lullabies of your heartache and unwanted whimpers for comfort. You are more at ease.

A heavy knocking at the door startled you. Groaning and gazing at your cell phone, the time read the time.

1:03AM

The knocking picked up again. You are not expecting company at this hour so you take precautions. Grabbing the metal baseball bat you keep under your bed, you stroll to the door. The knocking echoed through your apartment complex much to your sleeping neighbors dismay. Your adrenaline rises with each step you take towards the door. Gazing out the peephole of your front door, you see Katsuki standing at the door.

Throwing the baseball bat to the side, you open the door.

“Katsuki, what the—“

Katsuki ushers himself in, not even giving you an opportunity to scold him or ask anymore questions. Instead, his lips are entangled with yours. Magnets desperately pulling towards each other. You attempt to push him away as you smell the alcohol lingering in his breath, but Katsuki is much stronger than you are.

Your mind is telling you to hate this, but your heart speaks otherwise as Katsuki pushes you against the beige wall, caging you in with his arms. You did not even try to stop him as he began removing any article clothing on your body. Your lips only disconnected for short seconds before meeting again. Now you are laid on the kitchen table, Katsuki’s thick erected cock deep in your pussy, begging moans escaping your parted lips.

Here we go again.

©bakugosbratx

#tw pregnancy #tw angst #bakugosbratx #no strings attached #mini series #part 3 #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugō #bakugo smut #ceo bakugo #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x you

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years ago

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it’s just what you do.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: “my problem is that if you bring anymore whores around and it’ll start to feel like a brothel in here. and i am far too young to be a madam.”

word count: 6.0k

a/n: if you’ve read some of my st stories, you know i have a little bit of a love for bratty, bitchy readers lol so here ya go! a bratty bitchy reader in the hg universe! (though the reader is pretty tame for what i usually write for a bitchy!reader) i hope you enjoy, and if you do let me know in some feedback (:

You padded down cold stairs in bare feet, yawning as you did. You could already hear Roman and Peter talking quietly at the breakfast bar over cold cereal and sleep graveled voices as you reached the bottom landing. You stretched your arms above your head with a resounding squeak that announced your entrance.

As you push away unruly strands of hair from your face, you rub your cheek, still sheet streaked and warm to the touch.

“G’morin’ (Y/N).” Peter greeted through a mouth full of milk soaked Sugar Crisp.

“Morning, love.” You replied, placing your hands on his bare shoulders and pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

You let your hands linger on his skin a moment longer before you stepped around him and to the pantry.

“Good morning,” Roman called after you as he watched appreciatively as the hem of your short negligee dusted the tops of your thighs.

You acknowledged him with a hum, but gave him no further greeting. No good morning, no kiss, no smile. Just a hum as you rummaged around searching for your box of oatmeal.

Roman hadn’t come to bed until just before dawn the previous night, only furthering the animosity you felt for him. The new, deep and unrelenting displeasure you held for him now that he had let another woman into your home.

“What? Peter gets a fucking endearment and I don’t get anything?” Roman griped. His voice grated on your ear drums and his angry breathing only served to churn your disdain for him.

You kept mute, clenching your teeth as you gathered a bowl and some milk to make your morning oats.

You pictured turning around to spit in his face, and how it would feel to watch his reaction as your saliva splattered his skin. You’d then tell him to go fuck himself, maybe break a glass while you were at it, anything to get his attention. Or maybe you’d go hop on Peter’s lap, place his hands on your bare thighs and stick your tongue down his throat. That was probably better than any tantrum you could throw. Your boyfriend was nothing if not possessive of what he deemed as his. You fell under that laundry list of Roman’s possessions, though you were unsure if you were soon to be erased and replaced with five new letters.

Because it had been a little over a week since Annie had taken residence in the second guest bedroom. A fucking week of seeing her and Roman eye fuck each other and share whispered conversations. A week of her connecting with Roman on a level you couldn’t understand, of being a part of schemes, of helping him and Peter (something you were never allowed to do) and talking about Nadia. You’re fucking daughter. You swore the next time her mouth began to form the syllables to the child’s name, you were going to strangle her to death. Upir or not, you were sure your pure maternal rage would be no match for her.

And, it had been a goddamn week of you sulking and pouting and seething without Roman taking even the slightest notice, or if he did, not caring a bit. That, more than anything else, is what was truly making you irate.

“(Y/N)? What the hell?” Roman cursed again as you slammed dishes around in cabinets.

Before he could say anything else, another pair of footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Good morning!” Came her happy french lit as she bounded toward the three of you.

You didn’t acknowledge her presence, simply continued on with your oatmeal.

“I still haven’t gotten over the water pressure here. It’s so wonderful,” Annie says, and you’re sure Roman is half hard at her stupid compliment.

You still haven’t looked at her, but you’re picturing her with damp hair and ruddy cheeks from the hot water. Her face smooth and freckled with youth. Her damp hair turning her already light sleepwear see through and sticky.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Roman chimes and your neck prickles with anger.

The ice he was treading on with you was growing thinner and thinner by the moment. Melting under your fiery ire for his behavior. When he finally fell through, you hoped he’d drown.

“What are you planning on doing today? Do you have work?” Annie asks.

“I do, but do you need me for something?”

You scoff much louder than you had anticipated and you can feel three pairs of eyes on your back. You square your shoulders and turn toward the group, but don’t look at any of them. The stupid Hardy Boys with their brand new Nancy Drew, resigning you to be the villain, you supposed.

You walk around the breakfast bar with purpose, turning your body obnoxiously to avoid touching Annie as you pass. You weren’t close to her as she leaned against the counter, but you wanted her to know just how much you loathed her. So much so, that the idea of touching you made you recoil.

“Uhm, no. I was just making conversation.” She replied, her voice wavering after your subtle outburst.

You held back a pleased expression as you went to the couch, sitting at the farthest corner from the kitchen and taking the throw blanket from the back and wrapping yourself in it. You took your first bite of oatmeal and clinked the spoon loudly back in the bowl in protest.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” You hated how your name sounded so melodic coming off her tongue, “Are you feeling alright?”

You don’t reply, just continued to eat your breakfast, looking straight ahead. The tension was palpable in the room as Annie shifted her feet and waited for your response. You wish she would pick up on your clear animosity toward her and quit trying to engage with you. Her efforts were admirable, you’d admit, but with the way she looked at Roman, and the way she spoke to him, there was absolutely no way she could possibly expect you to indulge her.

You could feel Roman’s glare on you, his green eyes burning holes through the knit throw to sear your skin with displeasure. Peter was still turned toward the island, shoulders tense with discomfort at the scene you were creating. You almost felt sorry for him, it wasn’t his fault Roman was being an oblivious asshole (and that you were retaliating the way you were). He didn’t deserve to be caught in the awkward crossfire. Maybe you would sneak him into a corner and feel him up for a bit? He did deserve some pleasure for living with Roman’s pain (and hey, if it made Roman jealous in the process, that would just be a bonas of your good deed).

Soon, Annie recovered from your echoing silence and moved back to talking with Roman and Peter. You could see her out of the corner of your eye, sleep shorts hanging low on her hips and flimsy white t-shirt you had imagined, dipping down from her relaxed stance, giving both men a perfect view down her top. You didn’t have to be looking at Roman to know he was stealing glances.

You stayed on the couch, trying to eat your breakfast, but the oats were soggy and not as good as when Roman made them with cinnamon and maple sugar. You toyed with the beige mush until Roman announced he was off to The Tower. He gathered his jacket and briefcase before saying goodbye to Peter and Annie.

“I’m leaving,” Roman called over to you.

You kept your vow of silence and pretended to be interested in the curdling food before you.

“Jesus fucking-- fine! Goodbye.” He spat, irritated.

You continued to fold your oatmeal around your bowl until the front door slammed shut and Annie spoke after a moment's pause.

“I think I’ll be off, too. I have some errands to run.” Biding you both a quick adui before she exited the kitchen for the stairs.

You huffed to yourself. She could only stand to be around you and Peter when Roman was in attendance.

“I feel like I’m in a high school cafeteria and Annie just took your seat next to Roman.” Peter joked, having heard your annoyed sound.

“Well, she should know I always have an assigned seat next to him,” You said, setting your bowl on the coffee table and crossing your arms.

“Oh my God, (Y/N)! Do you hear yourself?”

“I do, and I know I sound childish but I’ve lost the will to care.”

You hear Peter sigh, then the sound of him getting up from his stool to come sit next to you.

“What’s next? Are you going to spread a rumor about her to make Roman think she’s icky?”

“Like anything I said could make him stop mooning over her,” You reply with disdain.

“He loves you, you know that. He’ll ask you to prom, buy you the most valentines and all that shit.”

“He has a funny way of showing it.” You pout with a furrow of your brows.

“Have you considered just telling him how you feel about Annie staying here?” Peter asked.

“If he can’t figure out on his own why I’m so angry, it’s not my problem.”

“Do you really think that’s fair?”

“No,” You tighten your arms across your chest, “But it’s not my fault that your gender has no emotional intelligence or inference skills.”

Peter chuckles, “All the more reason to just come out and tell Roman how you’re feeling.”

You roll your eyes and give him a half hearted glare, “Don’t you have a job to be getting too?”

“Yes, but I want to make sure you at least mull over my option first.” He nudges you gently with his knee

You give a small pause before a small smirk breaks out over your lips, “I was actually thinking about making out with you to make him jealous. Would you be willing?”

Peter claps his hands down on his thighs and pushes up from the couch, “And with that, suddenly I’m late.”

“Oh c’mon!” You giggle and get up to follow him, “Not even a little peck? Just put your hand on my ass!”

“I would rather keep all my limbs attached, thank you very much.” Peter says as he trouts up the stairs.

“You’ll like it!” You call up after him with a laugh.

“That was never in question, sweetheart! I just like my head on my shoulder and not on Roman’s mantle.”

“It’s my mantle, too.” You mutter, going up the stairs after him and heading to the master bedroom in hopes of avoiding Annie before she left for the day.

You had taken an angry nap until noon and then went downstairs to your office to get some work done. It was during this time that Jane, Roman’s new housekeeper after Anna, informed you there were some nice cuts of meat that would be going bad soon, and if you’d like it for dinner that evening.

“That sounds wonderful, Jane. Thank you.” You replied, peering at her over your computer screen.

“Would you like to ask Mr. Godfrey if he would like steak for this evening? Or if another night would be better?” Roman was known to work late, so this question wasn’t unreasonable to ask.

“I’d call him and ask, but unfortunately I am about to hop on a conference call and don’t have a spare minute. Would you mind calling to ask?” You asked in your sweetest voice.

“Of course, Ms. (Y/L/N).” Anna gave you a smile before she parted from the room.

You sighed, and went back to your riveting game of solitaire.

That night with burgundy stained lips, you sat at the head of your long dining table waiting for Roman to return for work. The beautiful reclaimed wood table that you had excitedly picked out at an estate sale that you had seen Annie sitting on just two days before. Swinging her legs like a child and eating a peach while letting Roman ogle her as the juice dripped down her flawless skin. You had slammed the front door so hard that the frame shook.

As you guzzled down your third glass of Merlot, Peter kicked your foot. A silent plea to slow down, so this evening didn’t explode with your loose lipped temper. But, you paid him no mind. You mostly just thought about how much you hated Annie for making you hate her. Hate her, and Roman. Because, really, you weren’t one of those women who stewed in jealousy or was in a constant fear of their partner cheating. Maybe that was because Roman had always been clear in his devotions to you. Sure, his eyes would wander when an attractive woman passed, but you knew he never acted on it. You had a trust in him that had never wavered until now.

You didn’t want to be one of those women who hated other women or demonized them for having your boyfriend’s attention. You didn’t want to be the girlfriend that men could point at and make stereotypical remarks about your possessiveness and label you “crazy” because of your actions in this scenario behind the three of you… but you were near the end of your rope and the woman had barely been staying with you two weeks. You were starting to question that unmoving trust you placed in Roman and it made you sick. All you could hope was that you were wrong… or at least that Peter would have told you if something happened between Annie and Roman by now.

Half way through your fourth glass, the front door sounded open and in sauntered Roman, with Annie in tow.

“Nice of you both to join us,” Peter teased, though you saw a split second of panic cross his features. You knew he didn’t want to play into your paranoia and had just done so unwillingly.

“Oh yes, we just happened to run into each other in the driveway,” Annie said, throwing a beaming grin over her shoulder at Roman who offered her a smile.

“How coincidental,” You offered over the rim of your glass.

Everyone in the room darted their gaze to you, clearly surprised that you had decided to end your silent streak.

“Yes, I suppose it was.” Annie replies, her smile still intact, “Now what’s all this then?”

“Jane noticed some food that was going to go bad in the fridge and offered to make a nice meal for us.” You said evenly.

You remembered when us just meant you and Roman.

“How thoughtful,” Annie said, looking to Jane who thanked her quietly.

“Ms. (Y/L/N) was a great help with it as well,” Jane said, opening another bottle of wine as you had almost polished off the one she had originally opened for the evening.

Ms. (Y/L/N). Not Mrs. Godfrey. You were easy to be rid of, exiled at a moments notice.

Jane was been modest. You had sat with her while she cooked and idly chatted, handing her utensils and chopping up garlic, but nothing else. You were sure she was trying to get Roman to take notice of your efforts, which you thought was sweet. You hadn’t come out and explicitly talked about your problems with Roman to Jane, you were sure she had figured it out on her own.

See that Roman? Your housekeeper knows more about what’s wrong than you do!

“Well, thank you, (Y/N). It looks wonderful.” Annie said.

You might have even thanked her through gritted teeth, had Roman not just pulled out a seat for her and gently pushed it back in. Instead, you settled back into your discontented humming and poured what was left of the original bottle of wine into your glass.

Peter could sense your inebriation level bordering on dangerous, so he quickly raised a glass in distraction.

“Let’s make a toast! We don’t get to have such a fancy dinner this often, y’know?” He smiled through his unease, and if you weren’t almost five glasses deep you might have even caught the desperate looks he was throwing you.

The please-for-the-love-of-god-don’t-start-a-fight-with-me-here looks.

“Well, how about to (Y/N) and Jane? For making this feast?” Annie offered, raising her glass to match Peter’s.

“Yes,” Roman said, his voice tight, “To (Y/N). And Jane of course.”

His eyes bore into you, both of you on opposing heads of the table. He raised his wine in the air like he was challenging you to a game you weren’t sure the rules of. You had never felt so uncomfortable in his presence ever before, and suddenly the idea that something was really wrong between the two of you seemed more plausible.

You raise your glass to your honor, but don't cheer’s anyone, just simply place the glass back to your lips.

Everyone then went around dishing out food on their plates and passing bowls to each other. Annie was always sure to pass to Roman first and he was always the first to offer her what he was holding. You felt like you and Peter were intruders on the romantic dinner that you had cooked for them (well, helped cook).

“Oh, I have some of Pryce’s plasma left in the fridge, do you want any?” Roman offered to Annie as she took a dish of mashed potatoes from him.

“If you wouldn’t mind. Thank you,” She accepted his offer so meek and polite you almost gagged.

Maybe this was meant to be? She was the perfect little wife for Roman after all. Sweet, attentive, was just subversive enough to seem interesting, an upir. The latter was likely the best contender for why Roman would be kicking you to the curb soon. It made sense, they were the same and she was new. And don’t all men want some new pussy after a while? You were no stranger to Roman’s reputation, and you had been reminded by many a peer of his serial adultery in the past… you had just hoped he’d outgrown it when he fell in love with you.

Roman came back with the plasma and leaned over Annie’s shoulder to fill her glass. You heard her take a sharp intake of breath at his closeness and watched as she glanced up at his face, which was mere inches from her own.

You ground your knife hard into the porcelain of your plate, and the sound broke her from her Godfrey trance. You pretend nothing happened and put a green bean in your mouth.

You tuned out the table’s conversations about their days and recent events, feeling isolated and somber. The wine was no doubt contributing to your sadness, but the residual feelings of neglect and rejection were getting to you. Because if Roman really cared, wouldn’t he have pulled you aside by now and just asked you if you were alright? Why you had been avoiding him, why you wouldn’t kiss him goodnight or good morning? Or did he just truly not care at all? Had you been replaced so easily?

You continued to sulk and play over a fictional break up in your head when a topic caught your attention.

“Any news on Nadia?” Annie asked as she swallowed a piece of bread.

Not the baby. Not your baby. Not the child. But Nadia. This woman who was trying to usurp your place in Roman’s life while you were still very present, had just again spoken your daughter's name. Like she had the fucking right.

Before Roman could answer, you pushed up from your seat, again causing all eyes to attach to you. You walked over to the fridge and obtained an old bottle of steak sauce (that you didn’t even want, you were just angry) and returned back to the table with a scowl.

And it seemed this most recent outburst was Roman’s tipping point.

“What the fuck is up with you?” He bellowed, throwing his hand in the air with similar fervor.

“Nothing.” You replied with a snap.

“Sure as shit fooled me! Because you’ve been acting like a fucking brat for the past week. So, why don’t you share with the class what’s on your mind, hmm?” Roman leaned back in his seat and dramatically gestured for you to speak.

“You wanna know my problem, Roman?” You bit out.

Peter was likely already planning his escape.

“That’s what I said.”

“My problem is that if you bring one more whore into this house, it’s gonna start to feel like a brothel. And I am far too young to be a madam.”

And there it was. Grievances were now aired, and unfortunately in front of your two house guests.

Roman’s jaw tensed and flexed as he stared you down, “Peter. Annie. Would you excuse us?”

Both stood without any more prompting and scurried to the stairwell as you and Roman continued to glare at each other in silence. When you heard the twin sounds of doors shutting, Roman finally spoke.

“So you’ve been a fucking nightmare because Annie is staying here? Are you kidding?” He scoffed.

“Don’t belittle me,” You ran a hand through your hair and looked away from his piercing gaze.

“What? Like you just did to Annie?” He motioned to where she had sat.

“Oh,” You mock, “Roman, her knight in shining armour. I’m sure it’s hard to save her when you’re up on your high horse.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“I’m talking about this fucking obsession you have with this woman! This obsession your culviating right under my nose and in my home.”

“Are you fucking serious?” He spits.

“Yes, I am. And don’t play so god damn naive. If the roles were reversed, you would have thrown a fit by now! Fuck, a fit! Fuck any amount of tantrums I could even begin to think of throwing! You would have murdered someone by now.” You seethed.

Roman looked at you with a bewildered expression, his eyes bugging and his mouth agape, stuttering for words, “So, you’ve really just been jealous? Fucking Christ!”

“Like you wouldn’t be if the tables were turned.”

“Fuck off about if the tables were turned. We’re talking about you, not me.”

“No! We are talking about you, Roman. This is just as much about you as it is me.” You shout, “And it has everything to do with the tables being turned. Because if I invited a man to stay in this house -- our house -- and all he ever did was fawn over me and I batted my eyelashes at him and giggled at everything he said while in nothing but a towel you would give yourself an aneurysm.”

“Stop changing the subject,” Roman snarled.

“Can you tell me with absolute and utter certainty that if I offered some guy a room, then spent all my time with him, had little inside jokes with him and touched him, you wouldn’t be angry?”

Roman doesn’t respond, just resets his jaw.

“So, if this man told me how beautiful I was, flirted with me and would never shut up about how similar we were, you wouldn’t be mad?” Roman just clenched.

“What if you started to suspect that I was fucking him, huh? What if you started to think about him inside me? Kissing me? Making me cum? Making me--”

Roman’s fist connecting with the tabletop cut you off.

“Enough! You win, OK? I would hate it, alright? I’d fucking kill him.”

“Thank you! That’s all I wanted. I just wanted you to see my side of this fucking story. Why I have been so mad.” You deflate against your chair, though you know this fight is far from over.

“And you didn’t just tell me, why?” Roman inquires.

“Because you should have known! I know that sounds ridiculous and I can see you rolling your eyes, but you should have known that I was upset and asked me what was wrong.” You said, tears bubbling up, causing your throat to constrict.

“I did ask you! I asked you this morning.”

“Yeah, in front of fucking Peter. Like I was going to tell you then… and you didn’t even mean it when you asked. If I would have told you, you would’ve just yelled at me and made me seem like I was crazy. I wasn’t going to open up to you when I already thought you thought I was being stupid.”

“You thought that I thought? Jesus… I have no idea what you want from me…” Roman sighs, reaching around the back of his chair to retrieve his cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

“I want you to hear me when I say that having Annie here, a woman who so clearly wants to fuck you, bothers me. A woman who you are clearly attracted to, a woman who is clearly attracted to you. It hurts me that you’re letting her stay here, especially when you didn’t even ask me if she could.” You were barely holding off the overflow of tears from your eyes at this point and you knew the second you started to cry this would all be over. Because you would start to blubber and Roman would get irritated that you couldn’t get a word out.

“Let me get this straight: I’m attracted to Annie, she’s attracted to me? So I’m going to have sex with her? And what? Leave you? Is that right?” Roman puffs around his cigarette, the condescension in his tone unbearable.

And your dam broke, the tears threatening to breach your lash line were flowing freely now. Why Roman wasn’t able to just see that something was hurting you and help change, was beyond you. You decided right then and there that you refused to let him have the satisfaction of watching you cry. You were done, for an unforeseeable amount of time.

“You’re so fucking mean.”

You sucked your teeth loudly before pushing up from your seat and heading for the front door.

“C’mon, what are you doing now?” Roman groaned, turning to watch you leave over his shoulder.

“I’m done. I’m going to Destiny’s.” You said curtly, taking your purse and keys from the hook in the entryway.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am. I’m done, Roman.” You slung your purse of your shoulder and clutched your keys tight.

“What for tonight or forever?” He asked like he was calling your bluff.

“If you can’t understand why I am so hurt, then I don’t know. Maybe forever.”

“Hey, woah, what?” Roman’s voice was startled as he got up from his seat and rushed to the door, “No, you aren’t leaving. This conversation isn’t over.”

He planted a large hand on the door handle, preventing you from opening it. You could feel his hulking figure behind you and you wanted to shrink under his size, but stayed strong.

“Roman, move your hand.”

“You’re not fucking leaving. Let’s just talk this out, OK?” He bargained.

You tried to pry Roman’s long fingers from the handle, but even with all your might working to untangle their hold, he was just too strong.

“I’ll listen, OK? I’m sorry, just let’s talk. Let’s talk about this.” His knuckles were turning white below you. You could see his bones threatening to break the surface of his reddening skin.

“Are you going to listen to me, or just dismiss and make fun of me? Because if you do Roman, I’ll just go out the back door.”

“I will. Promise.” He sounded sincere. Maybe now that he knew you were serious, he was more receptive to what you had to say.

You turned to press your back to the door and look up at him. The fear on his face was surprising to you. You hadn’t expected him to be so scared at the prospect of your leaving, he sure hadn’t cared that you were around since Annie arrived.

“I’m mad at you.” You stated frankly.

“Yeah, I caught that.” He sighs.

“I don’t like how you act around Annie. It’s disrespectful to me. I’m not a woman who cares when you look, but when you start to flirt and threaten to touch? I’m done, Roman. I’m not kidding.” You raised your eyebrows as Roman listened intently.

“I never touched.” He swore.

“Yes, but you’ve flirted and “innocently” touched. Flirted, touched and now you are starting to look at her like you looked at me.”

“I have never looked at her the way I look at you.”

You scoffed, then pantomimed his love lorn expression for him, clasping your hands over your heart theatrically.

He just rolled his eyes, “I’ve never looked at Annie like that.”

“Trust me, you have.” You say, ducking under his outstretched arm to walk back to the kitchen.

“Baby…”

“Don’t baby me, I’m still pissed.” You started to gather the abandoned plates to put in the sink for Jane.

“Then what can I do, huh? How do we work this out?” He asks, running a hand through his hair.

“Let me just ask you something,” You abruptly turn from the sink to face him, “Do you want to fuck her?”

Roman sucks in a deep intake of breath and opens his mouth, but closes it just as quickly.

Your tears threaten once more. You already knew his answer was yes, though all but hearing him say it was worse.

“Ok, let me ask you something else. Have you slept with her?”

“No! Absolutely not, baby. Never.” Roman said, taking a step toward you.

“And why should I believe you when I know that you want to have sex with her? Hm?” You crossed your arms.

“Because you know I love you. Because you know that I can’t even stomach the idea of my life without you,” Roman says, his tone frighteningly serious.

You look at him for a long moment, his eyes pleading for you to speak while you collected what you wanted to say next.

“Do you want to leave me for her?” You finally said, trying your best to sound collected.

“Baby, hey--”

“No, just listen Roman,” You took a breath, “Because, you know, if you wanna be with her, be with her. Just do it. Don’t string me along because you’re scared of losing more people. Because I get it, I mean I do. She’s an upir, you’re an upir... You have shared experience and she can teach you about what you are and just… Roman if you leave me just don’t be a pussy and cheat on me. Just break up with me.”

Roman looked at you bewildered and once again stammered for his words. For a moment, you were planning on looking at the price of U-Hauls; on how long you could stay with Destiny before you were intruding; if you would stay in Hemlock Grove because it was less expensive or just go straight to shopping for places in Philly?

But Roman doesn’t sigh and tell you it’s over. He doesn’t let you down easy or even scream and stomp his feet.

He just says:

“I love you more than I have loved anyone in my entire life. Family, friends, whatever. It doesn’t matter because you win. You always win. I’m not breaking up with you, alright? Jesus fucking Christ, nothing sounds worse to me than that.” Roman takes a long stride toward you to look soulfully into your eyes.

“Yeah, I think Annie’s hot and yes, she’s an upir. So fucking what? I’m not going to leave you because of that! I could give a shit about either of those things when you’re right under my nose.”

Your pick at your nail polish as you listen to him, feeling embarrassed. But Roman doesn’t let you wallow as he tilts you by the chin to look at him.

“I should’ve asked you if she could stay, I’ll admit that. I shouldn’t have been so chummy with her, either. And yeah, I probably should’ve just asked you why you were being so fucking moody. But you should have told me what was wrong without pouting.”

“I just wanted you to come to me and ask… for some reason I convinced myself if you asked me what was wrong, it was a sign that you still loved me.” Saying it out loud made your face heat uncomfortably.

“I love you, but that has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Roman chuckles.

“Don’t be rude,” You huff, pushing him gently by the shoulder, “Letting another random woman stay here was the real stupid thing.”

“How about we call it a draw?”

“I think I can handle that…”

“Ok, then it’s a deal. I’m sorry, you’re sorry, it’s all good.” Roman pinches your chin lightly to hold your face in place to place a soft kiss to your lips.

You hadn’t kissed him in days, and the feeling made you whimper.

“Is there anything else you need to get off your chest crazy lady?” Roman asks, his breath dusting your mouth with a smirk on his face.

You push him again, with more strength this time.

“I don’t like when Annie mentions Nadia. She is our daughter and hearing that woman say her name makes me go into like, hyper lioness mode and all I think about is punching her.”

Roman’s eyes widened.

“I do not need another woman sticking her nose in our business with our daughter. May I remind you that’s how we got into this whole mess in the first place?”

Roman sucks in a deep breath through his nose, “That’s fair.”

“I already miss her, I don’t need some woman who’s trying to hop on my boyfriend’s cock talking about her.” You were starting to get angry again.

And fucking Roman, he just smiles.

“Hearing you call her our daughter, calling me your boyfriend, all while being on a little jealous rampage? I gotta admit baby, it’s got me hard as a rock.”

“It always comes back to your weird primal possession,” You roll your eyes.

“Eh, you knew that from the beginning.” He shrugs.

“You’re still not totally forgiven, y’know?”

“Yeah? And what do I have to do to get out of the dog house, baby?” His smile turns devious.

“I want Annie out of this house,” You began.

“Done.” Roman cups your face as he started to walk you back toward the counter.

“I don’t want you seeing her without someone else present, or without telling me first. Not because I don’t trust you, but because--”

“--You don’t trust her. Got it,” Roman says, firmly pressing your lower back to the marble slab now.

“You know I have an intuition about these things,” You purse your lips in a pout as Roman begins to trail kisses across your jaw, “You should really be thanking me. I just know Annie’s going to turn out to be bad news. I have a feeling.”

He laughs, “Is there anything else, baby?”

“Yes…” You pause, “I want an inground pool. You promised me one when we moved in and the plans keep getting pushed back. I want to go swimming.”

“I’ll get the plans drawn up tomorrow,” He sucks on your pulse point.

“And you have to buy me as many bikinis as I want, designer ones, and I don’t want to hear one peep out of you about the price.” You crane your neck to give him more access to continue his sweet assault on your skin.

“I’ll leave you with my credit card so you can order as many as you want.”

Roman moves from your neck to look down at you, his cocky persona flickering for a moment so you can see the sweet eyes of a lovesick boy hoping for forgiveness.

“Like I don’t already know the number,” You smile, letting him know that it had been granted.

He groaned, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I love you, too.” And you reached up to kiss him fiercely.

i hope you enjoyed! this was fun to write, i love writing a moody!reader lol. if you did enjoy, let me know with a comment or reblog (: ‘til next time, ily! *lets hope third times the charm and this ends up in the tags lol

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kxrapika-zxldyck · 3 years ago

Text

Crying x and x Comfort- A KilluGon hurt/comfort fic

"Kite is... already dead." Those four words echoed through Gon's head, warping and distorting themselves until they were virtually unintelligible.

After a few seconds of trying to process the magnitude of Pitou's words, their meaning finally sunk in. Kite was gone. Gon couldn't save him. He had failed. The minuscule spark of hope left inside him disappeared instantly.

Pitou let Kite fall over, boneless, in front of the distressed boy. Gon gasped, taking a shaky breath as he tried to take in the scene in front of him. He felt his stomach lurch. He tried to speak, but only a strangled gasp came out. His throat was closing up, and his mouth felt dry.

Pitou observed the agonized boy carefully. If he made any sudden movements, it would be likely that he'd die.

Gon's eyes, usually beaming from excitement and charisma, had become grim. An ominous veil of grief and anguish had fallen over them.

"His soul is no longer there... He cannot be healed."

Tears started welling up in the young boy's eyes and he collapsed, his legs no longer able to support the weight of the anguish coursing through his battered body.

At the moment, Gon's mind could easily be compared to a whirling windstorm. Feelings of sadness, despair, and grief all took their place inside of him.

Slowly looking up, Gon could make out Pitou, intensely focused on healing the rest of his arm. The Royal Guard needed to be at full power if he was to defeat the emotionally conflicted threat that lay before him.

Suddenly, the emotions coursing through him dissipated and were replaced with a strong feeling of disbelief and confusion.

"Why are you healing your arm?" Gon heard himself say.

"Turn Kite back to normal!" He pleaded desperately.

A sinister expression appeared on Pitou's face. Gon had obviously not understood the severity of the situation. He was too entangled in his own grief.

"Please, after you finish what you're doing, bring Kite back..." he whispered, his voice raspy and filled with melancholy.

Gon clutched his chest, his heartbreak too severe to handle.

"Kite is... dead and it's my fault..." he murmured, still in disbelief.

"Kite is dead and it's my fault..."

"KITE IS DEAD AND IT'S MY FAULT!"

_____

"GON!"

The distressed boy shot up, gasping for air.

His eyes frantically darted around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

He suddenly felt a warm hand on his trembling arm.

"Gon! What's wrong? Are you okay?!" Gon hastily jerked his head in the direction of the familiar voice.

Killua.

His eyebrows were furrowed, and he had a concerned expression plastered on his face. Gon's breathing gradually started to slow down.

"Hey Killua... Did I have another nightmare?"

"Yeah, and I think it was a bad one too; you were hyperventilating and whimpering in your sleep."

"Oh... Sorry." Gon muttered, feeling bad because of the disturbance.

He felt Killua's slender fingers gently graze his cheeks.

"You were crying."

The pale boy carefully wiped the trail of tears off of Gon's face.

"Wanna talk about it?"

_____

"It's the same nightmares as usual, about the fight with Pitou two years ago."

Killua sighed softly. He wished that there was a way to forget. He wished that Gon didn't have to feel this way.

Gon continued, anxiously entwining his fingers around the thin sheets on his bed.

"I could've saved Kite. It was my fault. Maybe if I would've been more strategic..."

Killua couldn't stand listening to Gon tear himself apart any longer.

"Gon, stop. You sound insane. This was Pitou's fault. We tried to save Kite; we really did. His fate was in no way your doing." Killua said, slightly twisting the truth, but if it could make Gon feel better, he was willing to do it.

Despite his cold and rough exterior, Killua really did know how to comfort Gon in times like this.

Unfortunately, this did not prevent Gon's tears, as they once again quickly trickled down his rosy cheeks.

"I wish he was still alive." Gon whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

His tone of voice made Killua's heart feel like it was being shattered into a million pieces. He slowly placed his hands onto Gon's shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace.

_____

Killua's body, held closely against his own, was a pleasant feeling, Gon decided. He carefully wrapped his arms around the other boy's neck, entwining his fingers in Killua's dishevelled hair.

"I know, me too." Killua answered softly, resting his chin on the crook of Gon's neck.

The two boys sat there, listening to each other's rapid heartbeats, absorbing body heat. Gon's tremulous breaths became slower, and eventually started to return back to normal. He could feel Killua's fluffy hair tickling his skin, making him crack a faint smile.

"Hey Gon, wanna go on a walk to clear your mind?"

Gon sighed, taking a deep breath.

"Sure."

Nights on Whale Island were especially mild and pleasant this time of year. Gon felt the gentle ocean breeze caress his face as he stepped outside. He inhaled deeply and glanced over to where Killua was standing.

Killua Zoldyck.

The boy that he had spent the last three years of his life with. His accomplice. His travel partner.

His best friend.

"What are you looking at, dummy?"

Gon was seized from his daydreams, looking up to Killua's face, which appeared to be twisted in confusion.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just... really glad you're here with me, Killua."

Gon saw a faint blush appear on Killua's cheeks. The flustered boy quickly looked away.

"You can't just say things like that!"

Gon smiled softly, slowly tearing his eyes off of Killua's reddened face.

"Let's go."

_____

"Where are you taking me, Gon?"

Killua was being led through the forest, trying to keep up with Gon, who was swiftly darting past trees with a determined look on his face.

"Wait and see."

After a few minutes of desperately trying to match Gon's superhuman speed and agility, the two boys finally made it to a clearing in the forest. There was a small beach on the other side, hidden from the main area of the island.

Gon gestured to Killua, urging him to sit down.

_____

The two boys were laying with their backs to the sand, heads tilted towards the star-speckled sky.

"Aunt Mito used to take me here whenever I got upset. She said the ocean waves were like a lullaby, and listening to the gentle sway of the waves would coax me back to sleep."

"Hey Gon..." Killua said, dismissing the other boy's previous statement "... I get them too."

Gon shifted slightly, facing Killua, a curious look on his face.

"... The nightmares, I mean."

Gon silently urged the other boy to continue.

"Mine are usually about my assassin training. I have this recurring dream about being forced to kill innocent bystanders for the approval of my parents. My big brother Illumi is always behind me, manipulating me, no- controlling me with his needles."

"Those nightmares are the worst. They're the ones that leave me gasping for air, panicked and unaware that I've woken up. Yeah, they can be traumatizing, but you need to remember that the nightmares aren't real. They're just bits of memories from the past that have come back to haunt you."

"The thing is, we've already experienced different versions our nightmares. We were brave enough to surpass them in real life. The unpleasant memories stored in our subconcious don't mean anything anymore. What's in the past is in the past."

Killua paused, not bothering to examine the expression on Gon's face.

"Obviously, it sucks. Sometimes I wish we could've just had a normal life together, without the pain and wounds. But because of it, we are strong. We've trained, fought, gained, and lost way more than anyone of our age, hell, more than most adults. That's what makes us who we are today."

Gon's vision started getting blurry from the amount of tears welling up in his eyes.

"So you shouldn't be worried about the nightmares anymore, Gon. I'll always be there to protect you."

Gon inhaled shakily, processing the last part of Killua's speech.

"Killua..."

The pale-faced teen finally looked over to where Gon was laying. His eyes widened at the intensity of emotions written on the other boy's face.

"Thank you, Killua."

_____

And so, the two boys watched the sunrise from the ocean, together. Gon knew he would cherish this moment forever. The view was picturesque.

The morning sun was reflected off of Killua's pasty white skin, his eyes glowing with astonishment at the mix of colours and hues painted across the ombre sky.

Gon could stare into his vivid blue eyes forever.

Killua rolled onto his side, facing his friend. Soft smiles crept onto both of their faces.

In that moment, they both realized how lucky they were to have each other.

~♡~

#killua zoldyck #gon freecss #killua #gon #hurt/comfort #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #gonkillu #killugon #freedyck #hxh #hunter x hunter #gay #angst #hxh angst #anime

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thebigqueer · 4 years ago

Text

Solangelo - "Drowning in Sorrow" - One-Shot

Summary: Apollo confirms Nico of Jason's death, and Nico has to deal with the grief.

Word Count: 2406

SPOILERS: The Burning Maze Spoilers, Tower of Nero Spoilers

Read on AO3

Only one thought races in Nico’s mind, over and over: He’s dead.

Nico feels the grass under his feet, feels the wind brush against his face, feels the warmth of the air around him. But he never acknowledges any of that. He flies over the ground, only wishing to get away from the truth that lies behind him.

Demigods wave a hand to him in greeting, but he just pushes past all of them. He can’t do this right now. He can’t deal with anyone, not when another person he loves is gone. Nothing matters anymore.

His feet rise and fall with the shift in terrain, and soon the grass gives way to smooth marble floors as he steps up into his cabin. He longs for the darkness, for the solitude, for the emptiness.

Nico rushes in, his chest already heaving with heartache, and he slams the door shut. A large bang resonates in the room, drills into his bones and mind and skin, and finally he is alone. The curtains and blinds are all drawn shut, shrouding him in darkness, and he is safe from all eyes.

Nico slams his back against the door, unable to move any further from the entrance. He can’t find the motivation or the strength to go to his bed. His nails cling onto the wooden door and he slides down, the ache of tears pressing against his throat and demanding to break loose.

Nico sits there for hours, his head in his hands, his breathing heavy. He allows himself to drown in sorrow.

He’s dead.

Will stands outside the door of the Hades cabin, his fist balanced readily just above the wood. It’s been a few hours since Apollo broke the news to Nico, and a few hours since Apollo passed out.

Will feels like everything is happening too fast, too much, too… everything. The day has only been one thing after another. First his father returned to him, looking exhausted as hell but overall alive, and Will’s heart overflowed with joy. He spent months worrying about him - the amount of dreams he’d had of his father dying kept him awake at night. In fact, in the past few days, even he hadn’t been sleeping well - his dark circles are ready to rival Nico’s.

As excited as Will was to find out about Lester’s return, dread injected itself into his bloodstream at the sight of him. Apollo’s return could only mean that the real fight was about to come, and Will wasn’t ready. If Nico’s dreams were any indication, then things were about to get much, much worse.

Then Will’s own worries dissipated as soon as Apollo confirmed Nico’s fears of Jason: he was dead, period. Nico’s death alarm wasn’t false; he had died months ago, giving his last breath to Caligula.

Will can’t stop thinking about the way Nico’s face fell, the way he swayed on his feet as if the weight of Jason’s death was about to push him over. He thought about rushing after his boyfriend, but between Apollo’s own passing-out, Nico’s well-known desire to be alone when things like this happen, and Will’s own confusion and chaos, he decided it was better not to crowd him. Too much had happened all at once and they both needed the space to process everything.

After Will helped Lester to bed, Kayla turned to him and asked if he wanted to take a break, too. “You literally look like you’re about to pass out,” she muttered.

Will passed her up and told her he’d go check on Nico. She looked skeptical about it, as if she didn’t agree with his decision. “I don’t know, Will,” she said. “If Nico’s upset and you’re still dealing with all this all at once, maybe it’s better to wait a bit. Maybe it’s better that both of you let things settle before doing anything. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

Will wanted to protest, but he knew she was right. His stomach was knotted up with anxiety and his exhaustion was continuously pressing on him, drilling pain into his bones. So he waited a few hours until going to Nico.

Now, a little more rested, Will stares at the door. He presses his ear to it to check for any concerning noises. For the most part, all seems silent - except for the faint sniffles that hum through. Will’s heart twists over itself at the sound.

“Nico?” he calls softly. No answer, but the door creaks a bit as if someone is pressing against it. He takes this as a sign that Nico’s listening.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Are you okay?”

There’s still no answer.

Will sighs. He doubts Nico will let him in just yet. Instead, he opts to sit on the ground and lean against the door, his body aching with the excitement of the afternoon.

He lets silence linger in the air for a moment, considering how to start talking. Tapping his finger against the ground, he begins, “I guess this was a pretty intense day, huh?”

A soft thud echoes against the door in response.

“You know, my dad actually passed out after you left. Completely zonked out. The lemonade spilled all over him. Kayla had to hose him off.” A small smile quirks at Will’s lips at the memory. “Meg and I had to hold him up. It was kind of funny.”

No response again.

Will sighs. “I’m sorry about Jason, Nico. I thought… For your sake, I thought maybe it was just a false alarm. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. He was a really good hero.” As he says the words, though, a pang resonates in his chest. Were you ever a good hero? he wonders to himself. Jealousy and grief both pull at his heart - he shouldn’t be thinking like that, not when Nico’s hurting.

You never were as good as he ever was, his brain insists.

Will grips the sides of his jeans. He won’t fall into this rabbit hole of insecurities right now. Nico needs him.

Does he, though?

Tears prick at Will’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. He can’t break right now.

Nico still doesn’t respond, but another sniffle floats through the door. Then a choking sound echoes through, and the crack in Will’s heart expands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Will whispers.

The son of Apollo doesn’t expect any response. For a moment, time is frozen; nothing happens. Then Nico’s fingers peep through the space between the door and the ground, and with a jolt Will realizes he’s asking for his hand. Will touches the olive skin gently, then Nico reigns his fingers in, stealing them back into the darkness of his room. After a moment, something clicks and the door swings wide open, a soft breeze swishing through. Will almost falls over if it weren’t for his hands behind him.

Nico’s on his knees, his arm raised to the doorknob as he holds the door open. Tear tracks create cracks against his face, glimmering in the setting sun. His red nose stands out against his olive skin.

He looks broken, deflated. Void of all hope.

“Nico,” whispers Will. The sight of him looking so lost, so shattered makes Will’s own breath hitch with emotion. The ache of tears presses against his own throat, and all of a sudden he wants nothing more than to hold Nico in his arms. He’s exhausted and emotionally drained; he just wants to be in the comforting embrace of his lover.

Nico holds his hands out, lips trembling, tears rolling down his face, and Will falls into them. He pulls Nico’s waist against his body and Nico wraps his arms around Will’s neck and they spill over each other, holding one another in their sorrow, in their devastation, in their misery.

They sit like that for some time, breathing each other in, absorbing each other’s pain, holding one another through the sobs that rack both their bodies. They are one being in this moment, finding a connection through their grief.

Then Will lifts his head and brushes some tears from his own face. He stares at Nico, at his puffy eyes and his red nose and thick tears, and holds his face in his hands. Nico leans into the touch, melting into Will’s skin.

“I didn’t want him to die,” Nico whispers, leaning his head to Will’s. His voice is choked with pain, strangled with agony. Nico’s body vibrates against Will’s arms. “I thought… I thought the worst was over. I thought after the Argo II, we’d all be safe. But he wasn’t… He wasn’t.”

Will brushes a lock of dark hair away from his cheek, and his fingertips whisper against Nico’s soft skin. It’s feverishly hot, saturated with salty tears. “He died a hero,” Will promises.

Nico nods against his shoulder. “But it’s not fair,” he says. “Jason… He deserved more. He was one of the first people I trusted. I thought… It’s like… Everyone I care about somehow always leaves.” Nico looks up at Will, and behind his eyes, the blond sees it: the hesitance, the fear, the perception of his truth. He thinks Will’s going to leave, too.

Will shakes his head. “His death wasn’t your fault, though.”

Nico nods slowly. “I know. He… He took the fall for Apollo.” Will doesn’t miss the kick in his voice as he speaks of his father, the simmer of resentment. The blond caves into himself a little as second-hand guilt slips into his skin. “He went down doing something noble.”

Will nods and offers an encouraging smile, but his mind groans with anxieties and worries. If Jason was someone Nico trusted, what does that say about Nico’s next actions? Will he start going after Jason’s life the way he did for Bianca?

Would Will have to help him?

As if reading his thoughts, Nico wipes his eyes and says, “But he made his choice. He doesn’t deserve death so early, but that is not up to me. It’s up to the Fates.” A small, knowing smile wavers over his mouth. “I won’t be going after him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

And Will can’t help it - he sighs externally, a tsunami of relief washing over him. If Nico decided to go feral again with Jason’s death, then he would have no idea how to stop him. He’s seen how powerful Nico can be, how easily his emotions motivate his actions. A shiver slithers down Will’s spine as he thinks of that night a few months ago, when Nico first found out about Jason’s death. He’d gotten so angry and upset he almost sent skeletons after Will.

And even as Nico holds Will in his arms, the blond can’t help the knife of anxiety that scrapes against his skin. If Nico is so unstable right now, there’s no telling what he could do. Will just hopes he doesn’t make his boyfriend so upset that he sets more skeletons after him.

The son of Hades takes a deep breath and wipes his tears with the back of his hand. He removes his arms from Will’s neck and suddenly Will is left in the cold, freezing in the lack of his touch. He wants to tell Nico to hold him again, to keep him in his warmth, but he refrains. Nico scrubs his face then takes Will’s hand in his own.

A small smile flashes against his lips. “Thank you, Will, for being here. I appreciate it.”

Will offers a wavering smile back, though he doesn’t quite fill it with genuinity. “I’m always here for you.” Unlike Jason, he thinks, green envy flowing into his muscles. He hates himself for thinking that in the first place.

Nico brushes his fingers against Will’s face, over the splash of freckles and down his jaw. Warmth blooms in Will’s chest at the touch and he tilts his head closer, but cold, hard guilt settles in his stomach. How can he be thinking so jealously of Jason while his boyfriend is grieving so much?

“I’m sorry,” Nico murmurs. “I know this has probably been a long day for you, too, considering that Apollo is back. How are you, my love? I can’t imagine it’s been easy for you either.”

A new volcano of emotion erupts in Will’s chest and hot tears press against his eyes. He folds his arms over Nico again, crashing into him. His tears soak into Nico’s shirt. “I’m just happy he’s alive,” Will admits. “I was scared.”

“I know,” Nico agrees. “You said he passed out. Is he alright?”

“I think so. He doesn’t seem to be in any imminent danger; I think he just worked himself up too much getting here.” Will offers a shaky, relieved sigh. “At least he’s not dead.”

Nico nods against him, his dark hair gently brushing against Will’s cheek. “Did he say anything about important prophecies or any business to do with the camp?”

Will jerks up and stares at Nico’s face intently. His dark, tear-filled eyes gleam under the sunset, flashing with sorrow and exhaustion. Nico looks so weary, so done with the world. Will understands that feeling - he’s tired, so tired. He just wants to sit here with Nico, to bask in the calmness just for a few more minutes before everything turns to shit.

Without meaning to, Will lets loose a small sob. New tears roll down his face and he bends his face to Nico’s neck. Nico glides his hand over Will’s back, through his curls, but Will barely acknowledges his touch.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Will whispers. “Not now. Later, but not right now.”

Nico flinches with surprise, but he nods against Will’s cheek and slips his hand into the blond’s. “We can talk about it later, at dinner.”

“Dinner is in ten minutes.”

“Then at the campfire.”

Will sighs. “Let’s skip out on dinner.”

“And do what?”

“I just want to sit here with you. I want to be sad. Let’s be sad. We’ve been forcing happiness too long.”

Nico’s fingers jerk against Will’s neck, a twitch of surprise tugging at his body. Then, with a shaky sigh, he nods his head in agreement. His body goes limp against Will’s, melts into a puddle of sorrow, and Will pulls himself into Nico.

They sit there for a long while, drowning in their sorrow together.

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i-cant-type-help · 5 years ago

Text

Last Resort

(Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Summary: When Y/N is left without a date to the Yule Ball, she turns to Draco to help with her problem. Unbeknownst to her, Draco has been waiting for this moment all along.

Warnings:angst, FLUFF and language

Word Count:3250

A/N: one word: finally.

You clenched your fists tightly around the knife and fork, bending the metal slightly. Pansy was hammering your head with flaunts about how Draco had asked her to the Yule Ball yesterday and how he had promised to wear a yellow tie tonight, just to match her yellow dress.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Blaise asked, throwing you a cautious look as he watched your face grow redder by the second, “You look like you’re about to break that fork”. He slowly took the knife and fork out of your hands, careful not to hurt you. You ignored him completely and instead tightened your fists, digging your nails into your hands.

“Okay, well now you look like you’re going to break your hand” He chuckled lowly. You released your hands and rolled your eyes, before throwing him a fake smile.

“Someone’s on their period” Blaise muttered.

“Wow, that’s so fucking funny.” You snapped, throwing your head onto the table and groaning. You felt fingers roughly brush through your hair, tugging at it.

“She’s just upset that no one has asked her to the Yule Ball” Pansy gibed, causing you to groan louder.

“You know, Pansy, your fingers aren’t very soft and you stroking my hair is not very soothing” You snarked, sitting back up.

“No need to snap at me just because you’re gonna be alone tonight and I’m not” she bragged, “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you”.

“And, besides, Draco says I’ve got a very soothing touch” Pansy jested, curiously stroking her own fingers. You snorted sarcastically and turned your head in the opposite direction.

“Wait, you’re actually upset?” she giggled, causing everyone else to giggle around her. Except Blaise, who shot you a sympathetic look.

“Y/N” Pansy said softly, “You didn’t actually think anyone was going to ask you, did you? I mean come on, Y/N, you’re a nice girl but you’re hardly girlfriend material. People just don’t see you in that way, you’re just not an attractive person. It’s not really your fault or anything”

You shot up immediately and quickly made your way to the exit of the Great Hall, trying your best to keep your composure and hold your head high. You didn’t want Pansy to see how much she had upset you, you could still hear her faint giggles as you left the Hall.

Once you were outside you let the tears fall down your face as you let out little strangled sobs. You began to pick up your pace down the halls, making your way to your room. You just wanted to see your best friend, and you needed to see him now.

He had mentioned how he was going to be late to breakfast today, and so you hoped that if you were quick enough you would be able to catch up with him now before he left. Your eyes met the entrance of the common room at the end of the dungeons, so you picked up your pace even more, knowing you were close to being able to let your emotions out without having to deal with the judgement of others.

Your heart seemed to clench with anticipation with each step you took, until you finally reached the common room and slipped inside. There you saw Draco, fixing his collar in one of the mirrors, and the pressure in your chest released. You let out a strangled sort of sob and instantly ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying yourself in his chest.

“Y/N?” Draco said softly, his hands in the air in a shocked stance. He began to process that your shoulders were slightly shaking against his chest and cautiously placed his arms around your head, pressing you tighter into his chest. He began to trace his fingers along your neck, and whispered small shushes into your ear, hoping to calm you down.

Draco had known you for years now, and you had come to him crying a few times before. Draco had memorised exactly how you liked to be held and the best ways to help you feel at ease. It was important to him that he got those moments right, seeing you upset always made him feel an uncomfortable pinch in his heart and Draco hated that. Of course Draco would never tell his mates something like that, heck they already teased him for actually hugging her, Draco dreaded to think about what they would say if they knew he actually memorised the way to keep you calm.

You had been silent for a few moments now and your cries began to die down, so he finally spoke again, “Y/N, is everything okay?”. You looked up at him with hazy eyes and unhooked your arms from his neck, instead deciding to grip onto his shirt.

“Draco, take me to the yule ball” You pleaded, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“What-”

“Please, Draco!” You cried out, gripping his shirt harder as you threw you head onto his chest and began to sob again.

“Y/N, please calm down” Draco whispered. He softly gripped onto your elbows and began to lead you to a near couch. As soon as you sat, you dropped your head down again and covered your face with your hands. Draco noticed this and took your hands away from your face, instead replacing them with his own as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?” Draco questioned in a reassuring tone, continuing to stroke your cheekbones.

“No one asked me to the Yule Ball” You muttered, still not looking Draco in the eye, “I’m a fucking troll”. You noticed Draco’s hands had froze. You finally looked to see his eyes wide in shock and there was an unfamiliar glint in them which made you slightly uneasy.

Draco hadn’t even noticed that you were looking at him, instead he was thinking back to the day the Yule Ball was announced.

“None of you are asking Y/N to the ball, got it” Draco commanded to a group of slytherin boys, only to be met by scoffs.

“Why? Finally getting the balls to ask her out yourself?” Blaise asked smugly. Draco hesitated for a few moments, opening and closing his mouth quickly.

“No” He finally said.

“That’s ridiculous” A fifth year spat, “If you’re not having her, then why can’t we have her?”

“Because I don’t want your greasy hands touching her” Draco sneered, causing the other boy to pounce slightly before being held back by one of his friends.

“He has a point, Draco” Theo stated, barley looking up from his book.

“I can’t ask her out in case she says no” Draco argued back, becoming more frustrated by the second.

“Scared someone will actually say no to the slytherin prince?” The fifth year bickered again.

Draco chose to ignore this, instead saying “But I don’t want anyone else taking her, so don’t even think about it. Any of you.”. Draco felt himself tense up at the thought of someone else touching you, holding you the way he wanted to.

“And tell all your friends the same thing” Draco firmly added, ending the debate there.

Draco gulped and focused himself onto the present once again, watching your eyes as they scanned his face.

“You’re not a troll, Y/N. Don’t ever say that” Draco said plainly, a tightness behind his voice.

“So you’ll go with me then?” You beamed, your voice significantly becoming higher with hope.

“Well I- I already asked Pansy” Draco stuttered, moving his eyes to the floor.

“Of course, Pansy” You breathed harshly with a bitter tone. You moved away from him as you said it, taking his hands off your face and distancing yourself.

“Did something happen with Pansy?” Draco said delicately, scanning your face for tells.

You took in a sharp breath and bit your lip, considering whether or not to tell Draco what had happened. You turned yourself to face him and he flashed you a small, unsure smile. That was enough reassurance for you and you soon told him exactly what had happened, feeling the words fall out of your mouth like word vomit.

You noticed how his face slowly twisted with each word you spoke and his eyes flickered with anger every few moments. When you looked down to avoid his intense gaze, you saw his hands were tightly gripping his knees, so much so that his knuckles were turning pale. You hadn’t even had the chance to tell him how you fled the room before he interrupted you.

“I’ll go with you” he said firmly, taking your hand in his and lacing his fingers through yours.

“Wh- Really?” You whispered,meeting Draco’s eyes once again.

“Of course, Y/N” Draco soothed, stroking the side of your hand with his thumb.

“What about Pansy?” You questioned.

“Forget about Pansy” He said, throwing you a lopsided and cocky grin.

“Oh, Draco!” You cried out gleefully and wrapped your arms around him once again, resting your head into the crook of his neck. Draco lightly ran his fingertips down your spine and breathed in the scent of your hair, basking in the moment of you holding him close to you.

“Only if you say ‘thank you, Draco’” Draco whispered teasingly into your ear after a few moments, causing you to let out out a small giggle.

“Thank you, Draco” You laughed.

“This is very serious, Y/N. Now say ‘Draco is the best-est friend ever and insanely hot’” Draco commanded mockingly, causing you to let out an even louder laugh.

“Draco is the best-est friend ever” You repeated in a baby voice, pressing your face further into his neck.

“AND insanely hot” Draco insisted.

“And insanely hot” You replied, looking up at him finally and throwing him an eager smile. He smirked at you slightly and pressed a light kiss to the top of your head.

Later

You finished dotting powder across your face, adding the final touches to your look. You swirled slightly in the mirror, marvelling at you ruby red ballgown and the way it moved. Grinning to yourself, you ran your fingers down your sides in admiration of how it hugged your figure.You actually felt quite pretty in your dress, despite the earlier events making your confidence falter significantly.

“What are you smiling at?” Pansy asked bitterly, her eyes scanning you up and down with jealous intent. When you didn’t entertain her with an answer she turned herself towards Daphne and continued to sob into her shoulder. Daphne threw you a sympathetic look and mouthed a quick sorry before turning her attention completely to Pansy, running her hands down her back in a comforting manner.

You slipped out of the room quickly, avoiding confrontation. You made your way to the common room, making sure you didn’t stumble or trip in your heels which you were unused to wearing.

You noticed Draco before he saw you,his head turned away from you in conversation with Theodore Nott. Theo saw you almost immediately, sending you a big grin before tapping Draco’s shoulder and pointing towards you. Draco turned to you and the look of confusion on his face instantly dissolved into a look of shock, his lips slightly parted at the sight of you in your dress, sending him a shy smile.

“Close your mouth, Draco” Theo muttered humorously to Draco as he made his way to you and lightly grabbed your forearms.

“You look gorgeous, Y/N” Theo complimented whilst pulling you into a hug, “Go easy on Draco tonight, he’s very socially inept with pretty girls, as you well know”

“Theo!” You giggled, lightly smacking him on the back. You stayed like this for a few moments before Draco coughed behind you, causing you to pull away.

“I would like to spend some time with my date now, Theo” Draco said in a false harsh tone, before softening his voice when directing it towards you, “If that’s okay with her, of course”. You rolled your eyes teasingly and looped your arm around his before lowering your head onto his shoulder.

“Of course, Draco” Theo smirked,walking away from the both of you but not before adding,“use protection,kiddos!”. You felt heat drastically rise to your cheeks as you burrowed yourself into Draco’s shoulder in embarrassment. Draco tensed up beside you in response before laughing lightly.

“You look beautiful, Y/N” Draco breathed, pressing a kiss onto your head causing your cheeks to heat up even more.

“Thanks, Draco” You said, lifting your head to him, “You look quite handsome yourself”. You weren’t lying when you said it either, you really thought Draco looked striking in his dress robes(which thankfully weren’t yellow). But in all honesty, you thought Draco looked attractive all the time so tonight wasn’t any different.

Draco scanned your face for a few more moments, taking in the way your cheeks creased slightly whilst you smiled and how your eyes glistened in the lighting.

After a few beats, he spoke, “Come with me”. He gripped your arm tighter and began to walk out of the common room. You nodded and buried your head into his shoulder once again, following his footsteps in a comfortable silence.

Draco didn’t speak again until you were both outside in the courtyard, standing next to each other and watching the sun set. You focused on the different colours the sky made, watching them with admiration. But all Draco could focus on was you, and the way you looked so picturesque with the sun falling behind you. Draco finally broke the silence when he saw you shiver slightly.

“Are you cold?” He asked, as he trailed his fingertips down your arm which caused you to shiver more.

“A little” You replied quietly. Draco responded by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in, so your bodies were pressed tightly together and sharing heat.

“Is this okay?” He whispered against your neck, and you quickly nodded back, very aware of how close he was to you right now. You stayed like this for a few more moments whilst Draco slowly rested his chin onto your head.

After a little while you grew more comfortable with the position and nuzzled your head further back into his chest. Draco felt your movement and smirked to himself, a confidence growing in him.

“You know, Y/N” Draco breathed, “I would of gone with you even if this wasn’t to prove Pansy wrong”. You froze from beneath him and unravelled yourself away from him in shock, turning to face him. When you saw that his face dropped slightly, you grabbed his hands in an attempt to show you weren’t angry or disgusted.

“What do you mean?” You asked hastily. Draco’s breath hitched a few times with nerves, considering whether or not to tell you the truth. When you began to stroke his thumbs slightly, he spoke.

“I- Well I was waiting for you to ask me. But when you didn’t I asked Pansy. And I kinda-” Draco explained, nervously. He pulled away from you at the last moment to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck.

“Yes?” You questioned.

“I kinda told all the boys not to ask you to the dance because I wanted to take you myself” He grunted, clearly ashamed. Draco had excepted you to shout, or just leave. But instead you started to laugh to yourself before turning to him and wrapping your arms around him in a hug, laughing into his ear.

“Draco, you absolute dunce. I was waiting for you to ask me!” You giggled, pulling away from him slightly to gaze up at his face and watch as he started to laugh himself. To outsiders you probably looked crazy, but in that moment you didn’t much care.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long, Y/N” Draco professed, smiling down at you.

“Me too” You breathed back, returning the smile. You noticed Draco’s eyes began to flutter slightly and he slowly started to lean in. You quickly tutted and gripped Draco’s face, squishing it slightly as you held him back. Draco’s eyes fluttered open straight away and he pursed his already pouted lips.

“Nu-uh-uh” You taunted, “You have to be reminded that I’m not your possession, Draco”. You squished his face one more time before realising it, allowing him to speak.

“No, no. Of course you’re not. That was wrong of me, Y/N. I’m so-” You interrupted him by pressing a finger to his lips.

“It’s fine, Draco” You cooed, bringing your hands around him once again and tracing lines on the back of his neck, “I know your intentions were good”.

Before Draco could say another word, you pressed a small and haste kiss onto his lips. Draco’s mouth instantly formed into a smirk as he carried on where you had left, pressing his lips to yours and wrapping his arms firmly around your waist. You had never done this before, but kissing Draco felt natural, like your lips were perfectly moulded to fit the other. Your stomach rolled with excitement when Draco twisted his face slightly, deepening the kiss further.

Draco’s kiss was a lot longer than yours, as you had expected, as your lips continued to move against each other, moving rhythmically to the beat of each others quick pulses. You continued to deepen the kiss, trying to pull Draco closer to you with your hands, which was basically impossible at this point.

Your lips felt cold when he eventually pulled away to say, “Sorry, Princess, but we do have a Yule Ball to get to” before placing another quick peck onto your lips.

Meanwhile at the Yule Ball, all of your friends were huddled together in a small circle passing light conversation.

“I still can’t believe Draco bailed on me” Pansy complained for the fifth time that night, causing the rest of the group to erupt in groans.

“I’m sorry guys but I just don’t get it. Draco never misses parties” She paused before continuing, “But I guess it’s not a personal thing considering he didn’t come at all, right?”. Daphne sent Pansy a quick nod whilst Theo and Blaise sent each other a quick, knowing glance.

“And hey, at least I actually turned up after being rejected unlike Y/N” Pansy remarked.

“Hey Pansy.” Theo grinned, “You might wanna reevaluate that last statement”. Pansy's head snapped up to the top of the stairs, where you and Draco stood, hand in hand, grinning at each other with loving glances.

“I can’t believe it” Pansy sneered, “I’m the only person in the year who came to the Yule Ball alone”. She could feel a rage raise in her slowly, but it came to a grinding halt when she felt a hand slip into her own. She turned to see Daphne smiling shyly at her.

“Not completely alone.I’m here” Daphne said shyly, a faint blush covering her cheeks. Pansy paused for a while before a smile started to grow.

“Yes, yes you are” Pansy grinned, leading Daphne into the dance floor where you and Draco also began to dance.

“Does this mean we are dating now?” You questioned coyly, running your fingers through Draco’s hair.

“Not if you keep touching my hair” He laughed, pressing another peck onto your lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes” You purred, resting your head onto his chest as he spun the both of you around and wrapped his arms even further around you, pressing you further into his chest until you were nuzzled into him completely.

“Yes” Draco whispered, pressing his chin onto the top of your head and closing his eyes, silently thanking Merlin for Pansy and her temperamental personality.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco Malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Draco Malfoy x OC #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagine

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just-jordie-things · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I loveeeee your writing, so is there any way to do 10 for Sokka and it’s could be a death scene for y/n? Just make it as sad as possible, I’m in that mood rn.

prompt 10: goodbye kiss yessss angsttttt ___

Everyone always says ‘it happened so fast’.

‘I didn’t have time to react, it just happened so fast’

‘I never saw it coming, it happened so fast’.

But for Sokka, it happened all too slowly.

Because he saw where the direction of the Fire Nation soldier’s weapon was aimed, and he’d thought that she could defend herself.

She was so good with a sword, he’d thought. She could deflect any attack, even if she was fighting off another soldier, she could handle it.

He’d stupidly thought these things because time and time again she’d told him those things. She’d always told him that she could handle herself, that she was a well trained warrior who could take on a thousand men if she had to.

And on top of that, she’d proven herself. It seemed every fight they were in she was more than capable of holding her own. She particularly enjoyed showing off to the men who underestimated her, almost as much as she loved knocking them on their asses.

But it was Sokka’s own naivety that lead things down this path, and now things were very, very wrong.

So no, things didn’t happen too fast. In fact, he thought that the world stopped spinning just for him to have to watch it happen.

A strangled scream of warning flew past his lips moments too late, and (y/n) hadn’t noticed the sword aimed for her until it had already pierced clear through her.

If Sokka’s heart wasn’t shattering in that very moment, he might have thrown up, because it didn’t even look real.

(y/n) was standing there, frozen in shock, and there was a sword through her abdomen.

“(y/n)!”

Had it not been for Sokka’s cry of anguish, Aang may have never noticed what had happened. And if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gone into the Avatar state and scared off the remaining soldiers.

Sokka barely processed this, even with the earth flying through the air and the gusts of wind knocking people off their feet, all he could see was (y/n).

Her own sword fell from her hand, clattering on the ground.

And then the soldier abruptly yanked his weapon from her, inspecting the blood left on the polished steel, before running off with his comrades.

Sokka was moving before he could tell himself to, racing over to her so he could catch her before she fell to the ground.

Her body was limp in his arms, she’d lost so much blood already, and they both knew she had less than minutes.

“No, no no no no no,” Sokka repeated, over and over. His hands shook as they hovered over the wound, unsure of the right thing to do. “No no no no no”

While she was growing too weary to keep her eyes open, (y/n) somehow managed to rest her hand over his, and she shook her head at him.

As his eyes wildly met hers, he knew what she was telling him.

It was no use, there would be no stopping the blood, she was already a goner.

“(y/n), please, just- hold on” Sokka cried, his hands cupping her face, before going back to the wound, bloodying them as he pressed them into her.

“Sokka,” She rasped, trying to hold back her own tears. She didn’t want to worry him, but she knew that was useless. “I don’t even feel it”

A sob escaped him then, tears streaming down his face as his shoulders shook, and he lifted his hands from the sticky mess.

Her fingers lifted into the air in the slightest, and he took her hand in his right away, not caring that they were still wet with her blood.

“I’m sorry,” Sokka cried, his other hand reaching up to her cheek. “I’m so sorry, (y/n/n), I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Not your fault,” The girl mumbled, trying her best to keep her eyes open. “Please tell me y-you know it’s n-not your fault”

There may not have been enough time to say all the things she wanted to say, but she needed him to know that she meant it. She needed to know that he wouldn’t blame himself once she was gone.

He closed his eyes, but nodded his head a little bit. She wasn’t sure if he was being honest with her, but it would have to do for now.

“I- I love you,” She breathed out, and suddenly she felt embarrassed for having never admitted her feelings before.

And why not? Because she was scared? Or because she was worried it would make their friendship awkward? That all felt so silly now, and the thought made her smile in the slightest.

“So much,” She added, and faintly squeezed onto his hand. “Okay?”

Sokka’s eyes opened, and one of his tears fell onto her face. He was quick to wipe it off, his free hand cupping her cheek.

“I love you too,” He shuddered, his heart dropping to his stomach. “I’ve always loved you”

That little smile of hers grew for a moment, before her lips parted and she inhaled sharply.

Her vision was growing splotchy even when she could keep her eyes open, and Sokka’s figure above her was growing dark.

“Take care of them,” She whimpered, not from the pain, but from the despair.

The regret she felt now was more agonizing the the gaping wound.

“Promise you will-”

“I promise,” Sokka answered immediately, lifting her hand and pressing his lips to the back of it. “Always”

She gives him a small nod, and lets her eyes close. She was just so tired, it was hard to want to keep them open.

Sokka began to heave, and she wished that she had the energy to hold him, to tell him it would all be okay.

“We’ll see each other again” She murmured.

Her hand grew weak in his, and he thought that if he held on tight enough that it would be fine, that he could tether her to him.

But it didn’t work.

Her head rolled ever so slightly against his arm, and just like that, she was gone.

Sokka had felt loss before. With his mother, with Yue. He’d felt denial then too, because the shock of losing someone close to you always put the perspective of mortality at the forefront of his mind.

How could she have just been with him last night, giggling while she put little braids in his hair, and now he held her lifeless body? That wasn’t right, he’d just had her.

He’d almost had her.

And now she was gone, and he couldn’t spill every last thought and emotion she made him feel to her. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

His friends stop around him, all reeling from the sight, just as shocked and sorrowful as him. No one said anything. No one knew what to say.

“We- we were supposed to be happy together,” Sokka mumbled.

His friends couldn’t tell if he was talking to them, or to (y/n).

“We were going to be together, after all of this,” He cried, and the hand that he’d rested on her cheek he raised so he could push a few loose hairs away from her face. “We were going to fall in love- and- and get married, and I was going to teach you how to spear fish”

Katara wanted to make a face at the odd wish, but instead she felt her heart break for her brother.

So she was the first to come forward, kneeling before him and wrapping her arm around him, while he cradled (y/n’s) body close to his chest.

Aang was next, quick to sit at his other side, hugging the both of them.

And then Suki and Toph, both girls sitting behind him and joining the group hug.

Everyone held each other so tight, maybe for comfort, maybe just to remind themselves that they were all still here, even with a fallen friend amongst them.

“She’s right,” Aang speaks first, softly. “You will see each other again”

Sokka nods in understanding, and he squeezes his eyes shut tight.

“But I want her now”

Katara reaches out to brush the tears off of his face, even if they’re only going to replaced seconds later.

Her words ring in his head like a mantra.

I love you so much. Take care of them. We’ll see each other again.

He hopes he never forgets the sound of her voice, and to make sure he doesn’t, he decides that he’ll remind himself of the things she’d said to him every day.

Everything plays in his head, memories striking him over and over, and he’s desperate to hold on to each and every one of them.

Hi! I’m (y/n), I can’t bend but I can decapitate a man with one swing!

You idiot, that’s poisonous, you can’t eat that.

Are you always this irresistibly annoying?

Just reminding you, again, that Toph is blind. Since you seem to forget all the time.

Can you hold my hand? I can’t sleep.

I’ve got your back, always have, always will.

Just because I’m a badass doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be freaked out by a roach.

It’s a festival! Just dance with me, just for a little bit.

When this is over, I want you to teach me everything there is to know about hunting. I want to know everything that you love.

Can I braid your hair?

Would you mind staying in my tent tonight?

I love you, so much.

We’ll see each other again.

#atla #sokka #sokka x reader #sokka imagine #sokka scenario

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angelguk · 5 years ago

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the one where jeongguk’s obsessed with your scent because he’s your mate but he doesn’t know that until you accidentally forget to take your suppressants one day. alpha!jk and omega!oc. werewolf!au + mates :) this whole thing is about scenting so there’s that. a little bit possessive!jk. 1.5k words. listen to apple by julia micheals. oh mates are rare in this universe.

You have an incredibly nice neck. It’s a bizarre observation to make, Jeongguk knows that. But something in his brain made everything fall away the moment you plopped down next to him, eyes zeroing in on the steady pulse beating beneath your skin. It had made his own prickle, chest tight with a foreign tension. He hadn’t been able to concentrate during that particular Biology lesson. Hadn’t even wanted to if he’s being honest with himself. He’d spent the duration of those fifty minutes attempting to decipher your complex scent, which he failed at miserably. Too many silages melting into each other. Usually, he has a massive aversion to people who smell like that - like confusion. But with you, something in him itched to pinpoint exactly what your scent consisted of. It would be a lot more convenient for him if he could just stick his nose into your neck, learn what made you you in mere moments. And that thought had led to his mild infatuation with said neck.

Which is why during this Biology lesson, instead of focusing on the handout on the process of meiosis that had been dumped in front of him, Jeongguk is staring at your neck.

This is not the first time this has happened. He’s not sure if you're fully aware of it, because you make a point to ignore Jeongguk. Blatantly so too. Jeongguk’s not sure why you don’t like him - maybe it’s the constant staring (which he’s immensely apologetic for but he truly can’t help himself). Or maybe it’s because Jeongguk is a big fat Alpha with an attention span of a fish. Focusing in class with never his forte in his defence. Movement always seemed more reasonable to him. And it’s not his fault that he fits perfectly on the field in his quarterback position while you preferred to attend violin practise and obsessively colour code your biology notes.

(You had never told Jeongguk you played the violin. He’d stumbled on you in the music room one afternoon on his way out of school, feet drawn by the euphonious melodies floating down the hallway. And if he stayed and watched you play, mesmerised by your poised stance and deft fingers skipping over the strings - that’s his secret).

Normally, he would force his eyes away, glue his gaze to the floor or the blackboard in hopes of distracting himself. But today he can’t - at all. You smell so different. And it’s doing his head in.

Perhaps you can feel the intensity of his gaze because he sees you swiftly scribble on a scrap of paper. In a pink pen - one of the many pink pens in that oversized pencil case of yours. Jeongguk will ever understand that all you need in class is a pen and maybe a highlighter, not ten different shades of the same form of stationary.

Stop staring.

It’s written in neat cursive, even though the side look you’re giving him is heated. He has no idea why his heart does a strange little flip.

“We can talk, you know.” His voice sounds strangled to his ears. Jeongguk prays you didn’t pick up on that as he clears his throat. “We’re not forbidden from talking.”

You huff, turning over your handout. Perhaps he likes how your lips pout in annoyance. “Okay then. Let’s talk. We can start with why are you looking at me like that?” You twist to glare at him and Jeongguk feels his heart stop.

“I don’t know.” Jeongguk's mouth isn’t connected to his brain right now. That’s why he admits to it so easily. There are no thoughts inside of his head apart from how prominent your jugular vein is, and how much he wants to bite. It hits him hard, the full force of your scent. One massive sweep that violently drowns him, coaxing him deeper into an ocean he’d be happy to die in.

The quirk of confusion in your eyebrow makes his skin hot. “Sorry - I just - I just - You smell different.”

He reads it in the quick flash of your eye. Embarrassment, dampening the brightness of your gaze. And then he’s floundering over himself, chest tight with the thought that he's unintentionally hurt you. “Not like that! Like - you just smell different! Not a bad different, just different.”

The forceful short smile on your lips makes his heart clench.

“I know I smell strange. I forgot my suppressants today.” The despondency colouring your tone irks him. So much so that he can’t help but blurt it out.

“You don’t.” He says it firmly, hoping to wipe away the gloom falling on your face. “You smell nice. Just different from most people.” And it’s true, you do smell nice. Really nice now that your scent isn’t obstructed by suppressants and blockers. Maybe that’s why you smelled so odd to Jeongguk at first. Because that wasn’t your true scent, that was a crap ton of chemicals masking it.

“Well, I smell strange for an omega.”

That changes a lot inside of Jeongguk’s head. Instantly. He blinks, abhorring the way his body reacts, posture suddenly straight and his chest puffed uselessly. You wouldn’t even be able to see his frame since he’d donned a baggy sweatshirt this morning, the grey in the sky a warning. But he does it anyway, instincts overriding any ounce of rationality despite his best efforts. Jeongguk wasn’t one to overreact around omegas, however, that new titbit of information coupled with the fact that your scent is straight smacking him in the face, has system can't help but go a bit haywire.

The heat that spreads over your face at his not so subtle presentation makes him preen. Like a stupid excited little puppy. He wants to strangle himself. But he doesn’t, words falling out his mouth like a torrent instead

“You don’t. I just can’t make out what you smell like? If that makes sense. It would be easier if I could just scent you.”

“You can if you want to.” There’s a faint smile tugging at your lips and your gaze doesn’t falter when you say that, direct in a manner that makes Jeongguk literally vibrate. He leans in without thinking it over, the tiny nod of permission the only he needed to see before he buries his nose right into the hollow of your neck. And then its fast, a rush of emotion that sweeps through his system. He doesn’t even realise it’s happening, until the sting of his fangs nipping at his lips elicits a zing of pain that he barely registers, because his brain is melting from the overload of heat that consumes him. His body is tingling from head to toe, knees weak even though he’s perched neatly on a lab stool. There’s a rumbling in the distance. It takes him a moment to register that that sound is coming from him - from his chest.

There’s a strong arm tugging him away a second later and Jeongguk can’t help the frustrated whine that slips from his throat, claws already extended to rip apart the person who thinks they have the right to separate him away from what rightfully belongs to him.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell is up with you?” The alarm in Taehyung’s tone is what drowns that voice in his head. Taehyung looks terrified, glancing between the two of you hard. There’s a silence filling the room, loud enough to erase the roaring in his head. The heat of his classmates’ gaze slams into him a second later, and suddenly Jeongguk is acutely aware of the fangs biting into his lip and the extended claws digging hard into the denim of his jeans. When he notes the small gasp that drifts from your mouth a second later, his instincts flare again. Vehemently this time, because you sound scared and the only thing that he can think about is protecting you from whatever threat is in the room.

Yet, he fails to discern the only threat in the room is him.

It’s Taehyung that holds him back, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, grip taut despite the struggle Jeongguk puts up. Mr Kim steps in a beat later, intervening fast because the class is frazzled, the violent onset of alpha pheromones sweeping over the room affecting everyone. Jeongguk doesn’t care though. He can’t. He genuinely can’t, brain devoid of anything but the thought of you and your sickeningly perfect scent and how he finds it despicable that his nose isn’t tucked into the hollow of your neck and you’re not perched on his lap, secure in his arms and the fact that you’re so fucking far away from him despite sitting right across from him.

It’s only when Taehyung, Jimin and a few other classmates that he can’t recall names off because his focus was solely on you that he apprehends it. There’s no other explanation for his behaviour and the school maven pointedly states it when he’s folded into himself in the principal's office, head hung in shame and his heartbeat bruising his ribs.

Mates. You’re his mate.

#jungkook x reader #you're a champ if u can find the derek + paige reference #they deserved more :(#bts x reader #okay paige played the cello but that's besides the point #they deserved better!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#werewolf!jk

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julemmaes · 4 years ago

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Another thomastair with "hate you? I could never hate you! I love you!" 💜

Hate You - October 9th

Alastair Carstairs x Thomas Lightwood

A/N: This is angsty, like really angsty. It’s also very short cause I felt like I wasn’t getting Thomas character at all with this one, hence, I’m a sad bitch right now and I really want to cry. I hope you like it tho so, enjoy!:)

Word count: 1,765

Thomas had just finished patrolling with Christopher when he arrived at the Institute to declare that there had been no suspicious sightings. Only a couple of demons that they had managed to put down easily and without too much trouble. They were talking about this and that and Thomas couldn't wait to finally take off his uniform and eat whatever the ladies in the kitchen had cooked.

He could already feel the water rushing over him, the icore peeling off his skin and the sponge scratching away every bit of dust. His dreams were immediately shattered when they heard someone screaming in the training room as they walked through the front door.

Christopher gave him a worried look before he started running down the hall. Thomas prayed with every fiber of his being that no one was hurt and that the screams were just cries of effort. He doubted very much that it was just grunts and cries when they heard what was clearly Cordelia's voice screaming her brother's name.

Thomas snapped, speeding up even more and slamming into one of the doors when he stood in the gym.

There were three bodies on the ground and Thomas could make out each one perfectly.

Matthew was sitting astride Alastair's lying body, hands tight around his neck. James was trying to pull up his parabatai, but it didn't seem to be doing anything. Cordelia moved before him, grabbing Matthew by the arm and pulling back.

The blond looked her in the face. His features twisted with anger and his bloodshot eyes told Thomas enough about his friend's condition.

Alastair seemed motionless under Matthew, hands around the other's wrists and eyes as wide open as his mouth in a silent scream. James was shouting that he had done enough, that it was enough, but the other one seemed numb.

Thomas moved quickly. He ran towards the group of his friends and jumped forward with his whole body, ousting Matthew from above Alastair, making him leave the grip on the Carstairs' neck.

In the action, Cordelia had been thrown backwards and now she was lying on the ground next to them, leaning on both elbows as she watched the scene, distraught.

Thomas looked down, he laying down over Matthew's body as he held both of his wrists with his hands as he struggled. Matthew's witty gaze frightened him more than it should have. What on earth had he been drinking?

He cast a quick glance at James, who had already got up and thought Thomas was more than capable of holding Matthew down. The friend approached Alastair, who was coughing bent forward, one hand on his throat and his cheeks ridged with tears.

Lucie was helping Cordelia standing.

"What happened?" whispered Thomas, unable to find the voice to speak.

Matthew snarled at him like a fierce beast, writhing and screaming to let him go. The grip on his wrists only became firmer.

Lucie spoke for the others, realizing that James was too shocked to answer, "We don't know. We were training, we had to start the next patrol as soon as you guys got back-" she froze when Alastair pushed James away.

"Don't touch me," he growled through his teeth. A grimace appeared on his face, probably because of the pain talking caused.

"Alastair..." called Thomas.

"Be quiet."

They heard quick steps and then Will and Gabriel appeared at the door. Both their faces contorted in an expression of pure horror.

Gabriel was the first to move, shooting towards James and Alastair still on the floor. Will took a second longer to react as he clutched the door between his fingers, looking for support. Lucie approached her father, clenching her fists.

"Dad-"

"What happened?" Will asked with the tone he took when he had to speak to the Council.

"It wasn't Matthew's fault," James said, getting up and walking towards him.

Matthew underneath Thomas wouldn't stop writhing, "Let go of me, damn it!"

Thomas was forced to let go of the grip on his wrists and stand up. James immediately took his place as he held Matthew to his chest and told him to calm down.

"Fairchild tried to kill me," Alastair said in a scratchy voice.

Gabriel gasped, helping the boy to stand. He turned to his son, looking for confirmation. Christopher would never lie. He raised his hands, shaking his head, looking as sorry and frightened as every other person in the room by his friend's ambiguous behavior, "We just got back, but Matthew was actually strangling Alastair."

James nodded, with dark eyes, "He was drinking, someone must have put something in his drink. I've never seen him so worked up," he confessed, holding his parabatai.

Will nodded, looking like an exact copy of his son, addressing Gabriel, "Go get Charlotte and Henry and," he cursed under his breath as he rubbed his hand over his face, "The Carstairs and all the others, too. Magnus Bane as well, please. Send Tessa to my office."

Gabriel nodded for confirmation and then took one last look at his nephews and his son as he left the room. Will stepped forward and put one hand on Matthew's shoulder, the other behind his neck, to hold his head still. He cast a quick glance at James over the boy's shoulder, and immediately returned to stare at Matthew.

Thomas looked to his left, where Cordelia was drawing a iratze on her brother's neck.

Alastair did not seem as upset as you would expect from someone who had just been suffocated.

"Matthew, it's Will. William Herondale." he said to him with a serious look, "Do you recognize me?" he asked.

The blond didn't even seem to hear him. "Behind you, holding you, is Jamie, James. My son. Your parabatai." to that, Matthew seemed to stop for a moment. His frantic movements and facial tics resumed shortly after.

Will pulled himself up, taking a deep breath through his nose and turned to his daughter, "Lucie, could I borrow your stele please?"

James stepped back, carrying his friend's back too, "What do you want to do?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"I just want to put him to sleep," Will replied, looking conflicted.

James shook his head, "I can do that."

His father looked him in the eye, really looked him in the eye, seeing all kinds of emotions. Emotions that he himself had experienced many times in his short life alongside their Uncle Jem. "I won't ask you to do it, Jamie."

There were no other words, just the head of the Institute silencing those inhuman sounds produced by their friend and his parabatai supporting him as he fell to the ground, helpless.

Afterwards, everything was very slow. The parents arrived immediately, Sona and Charlotte equally worried, and the children and friends who had been present during the attack were questioned by Will and Tessa.

Thomas and Christopher went to take a shower and were not let through the Institute wing where they were making things clear when they finished. Anna had arrived half an hour later and apparently had been assigned to distract them because she wouldn't stop asking them what they wanted to do to kill the time.

Thomas had kindly asked her if he could stay alone and she had granted his wishes, leaving him alone and taking Christopher with her.

Now he was standing on the steps of the entrance to the Institute and was torturing his hands, trying to understand what had just happened.

He heard the door open and close gently and then someone ran down the stairs.

He didn't have time to turn around to see who it was, Alastair was already down the stairs and was marching towards the exit, his hands hidden in his pockets and his head clutched between his shoulders.

He did not think twice before getting up and running after him.

There was no need to call him because he turned around as soon as he heard the sound of Thomas' boots on the gravel.

Alastair wrinkled his forehead, "What do you want?"

Thomas did not notice the irritated tone of voice, but he had to refrain from jerking when he saw the other one's wet cheeks, "How are you?"

"What do you think? Your friend tried to kill me," he said.

"What happened?" he asked sincerely curious to know his side of the story.

Alastair's eyes darkened and his expression grew grim, "What do you want, Lightwood?"

"I just want to know if you need anything." Thomas murmured, closing in.

He laughed sarcastically, "Why don't you stop pretending to care about me?" he asked as he walked away, "Why don't you go back to your perfect little house with your sisters and your cousins and your divine companionship and leave me alone?"

Thomas really didn't understand where all that anger towards him came from, but he thought he would be angry too if someone had just tried to choke him to death.

"I don't want to leave you alone right now. I think you need to be distracted and-"

"You really don't get it when someone wants to be alone, do you?" Alastair raved, raising his hands to the sky. Thomas did not answer.

The boy was looking at him with vaguely shiny eyes. He looked away, groaning, "Go back to the others. I know you hate me as much as any other person in this Institute," Alastair muttered.

Thomas' expression didn't change one bit and in the most serious tone he had ever used he said, "Hate you? I could never hate you... I love you."

Alastair did not even take the time to process what he had just been told, "You don't know what you are talking about."

"I love you, Alastair." repeated Thomas, closing in enough so that his face was just a few inches from his own.

Alastair looked him straight in the eye and Thomas saw not an ounce of emotion in those dark pools, "It doesn't work this way," he whispered, clenching his fists.

He turned around and started walking towards the exit, never looking back. Thomas didn't have the strength to follow him, to stop him. The rejection a pain strong enough to block his breath in his throat.

He didn't move from where he stood until James shouted his name from the Institute. Only then did he turn to his friend, and as if nothing had happened he walked to the infirmary, pretending that the conversation he had just had with Alastair had not utterly shattered him.

tsc tag list (if you want to be added/removed just send an ask or dm me)

@queenofthemoon22 @clara-sm @can-god-strike-me-down @tessaherongraystairs-blog @idontgetit-whydoihavetosaymyname @jamescordelias @grxceblqckthxrn @thecerridwen @stitch-kiss @alastairlightwxod @ahiretsinging @allofmywonders @tremendousheadachecollector @tlh-tea @taco-taco-belle @city-of-fae @ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes @thomascarstairsx @alastaircarstairsx @fair-y-child @matthew-herondale @thomaslightwoodx @abigneignenn @imherongraystairstrash @rednailpolishqueen @herondamnn @parababitch-herondale @silent-nerd @heronblackstairs @starryherondales @ireallyshouldsleeprn

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bjy-on-ao3 · 4 years ago

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Fic Friday: Helping Hand

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

This story feels like fan content-ception to me, as it spawned from some NSFW art I made featuring Izaya, which was made from doodles to start with. Still scheming, but a lot more simple than my other fics with Izaya. Leaving this one a little open-ended in case I came back to it for Izaya returning the favor as he suggested. Not currently decided for sure though. I recently got my first request for Izaya and am brewing that, though it could be some time before I can get something down. It should be pretty fun though and spicier than this. (Note: Apologies for no cut - I am not sure how I add a cut with the new editor :/) Summary Invited over to Izaya’s apartment, Reader arrives too early and interrupts the informant’s alone time. And unfortunately (or fortunately), Izaya has no qualms about asking for a little help. Tags/Warnings Blowjobs, Come Swallowing, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut

Helping Hand (F! Reader/Izaya Orihara)

Arriving at the non-descript door in the hall of the impressive-looking apartment building, you hesitated. A few quick glances confirmed the numbers by the door matched up with the information listed in your phone’s address book. A few times before you had been to the apartment, but you hadn’t memorized everything about the address. All things considered, it was surprising you weren’t late this time, as you had been each time in the past. Maybe you were improving a little.

You raised a fist and drummed it against the door, starting light and polite. Nothing. You rapped harder. Surely that was loud enough to be heard? Your assumption was disproved when all that met you was silence, leaving you alone still in the hallway. You frowned in frustration and impatience. You knocked a third time, waiting a minute, wondering if he was preoccupied or just enjoying making you wait. When all remained quiet again, your frown deepened.

You looked back down at your phone, silently navigating to the texting feature and typing you a message irritably.

(X:XX PM): I’m here. I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear it.

You didn’t need to wait more than fifteen seconds before your phone buzzed in reply. Two words met your gaze, followed after a moment by a second slightly longer message.

Izaya (X:XX PM): You’re early.

Izaya (X:XX PM): I’m a little busy right now.

You paused, your scowl becoming confusion, and you scrolled back up through the conversation. The log confirmed the time you had been told and the one in the corner of your phone matched. ‘ Early? Right. Don’t tell me Izaya of all people forgot.’

(X:XX PM): I checked and either I’m on time or you screwed up and sent me the wrong time.

Arguing with him wouldn’t do you any good one way or another; Izaya wasn’t one to genuinely apologize for any inconveniences he caused others. But correcting him made you feel a little better and somewhat less cross at least.

Izaya (X:XX PM): Oh, did I?

Izaya (X:XX PM): Well, if you don’t like waiting, you can just come in. Door’s unlocked.

Your face twisted again, now into a skeptical surprise. Izaya just left his door unlocked? Izaya Orihara, the man who had probably as many enemies as he had clients, decided it was smart to let whoever wanted to waltz right in. Yeah, that made sense. You wondered if he enjoyed the excitement of the potential danger.

(X:XX PM): Hardly seems like a good idea for YOU to leave your door unlocked, but whatever.

With a dismissive shrug, you tucked your phone into your pocket and reached for the knob. Pushing it open, you stepped inside quickly and closed it gently behind you. You took a step away before pausing, turning back and locking the door as an afterthought. Izaya could endanger himself all he wanted, but you would rather there be at least some kind of barrier between whatever messy trouble came looking for him.

Walking past the foyer, you expected to see him perched on his chair, clacking noisily away at his keyboard, fixed on the screens of his computers and cellphones or something of the sort. The chair was empty though, turned away from the screens. You scanned the area for the ever-frustrating information broker. Quickly, you noticed him tucked away in the corner of the dark-colored leather section, his back facing you. His head rested against the couch, one long arm lying curled over its back. For someone supposedly busy, Izaya looked pretty relaxed from where you were standing.

“You don’t look real busy to me,” you accused once you spotted him.

Izaya shifted, tilting his head further back to glance over his outstretched arm at you. “Oh, I am, I assure you.” He looked and sounded as collected as ever, as if nothing could or should trouble him. Except… was it just you, or did his face seem a bit red? “But I’ll be just a few minutes. Feel free to wait for me there,” Izaya suggested. There was something off as well about the quality of his voice you couldn’t place.

“Uh huh,” you said, unsure if you felt unsettled or just irritated still. Maybe a little of both.

He had told you to wait, yet your curiosity nagged at you viciously, demanding to see what exactly preoccupied him. Or maybe it was indignation needing to see what was so pressing he couldn’t remember the time he had told you. You took a few steps, intending to round the recessed floor area and the sectional to see what he was doing.

“You really should wait over there,” he warned you casually, the strange tone of his voice sounding stronger, but still indecipherable.

You scoffed, ignoring the warning and carrying on. When you swept around the corner of the area though, what you saw stopped you dead in your tracks, poised on the lip of the steps down. At first the strangled squeak that burst from your mouth didn’t quite register, nor did the immediate hot flush that fell across your face.

Izaya looked very comfortable where he sat, leaning back into the plush cushions. From the top-down, at first he looked perfectly normal, if a little flushed, one of his usual ‘v’-neck shirts tantalizing displaying a bit of his delicate-looking collarbones. Though the picture grew more suspect the further you went. The hem of his shirt was lifted, askew and higher on one side than the other, exposing his lean torso. That wasn’t nearly so scandalous though, as even further down.

He sat nude from the waist down, his pants and belt pooled around his ankles. His cock stood prominently between his splayed legs, a flushed tone to match the rosy tint in cheeks and leaking pre-cum. As if walking on Izaya with his pants literally down wasn’t mortifying enough, one hand was wrapped leisurely around his cock. Obviously he had been in the process of jerking off, and still was, having not bothered to stop even once you had caught him in the act.

What you were looking at hit you all at once, and a stream of half-finished sentences exploded out. “I’I’m sorry, I-- But what are you--? Why would let me come in if that’s what you’re busy doing?! You began in an apologetic voice, though your apology quickly turned to indignation at the fact Izaya’d had plenty of time to put himself away before you came in. Before he invited you, for example, and then before he greeted you.

“Well, I did warn you.” Izaya’s speech held no hint of apology. The shameless, steady stroke of his hand up and down confirmed he was not bothered whatsoever. “Besides, you’re the one who wanted to show up early and be nosy, darling.”

At last you recognized the tone in his voice you hadn’t been able to place before. Something husky and thick, a silky accent to his already smooth voice. You felt stupid not being able to put two-and-two together from his voice and face.

“I’m not early! I-it’s not my fault you told me the wrong time,” you tried to hide the shakiness in your voice with anger, though you knew Izaya was a master at seeing through masks.

You wanted to turn, to look away, but you found yours glued to the sight of him, stunned like a deer in headlights. Maybe it was his audacity that was truly so stunning. I’m just gonna go and come back later,” you ground out through teeth after you tore your eyes away from the enticingly lewd scene.

“Oh? But like I said, I’ll only be a little bit.” You nearly choked again from Izaya’s boldness. He really expected you to just wait around while he jacked off like it was nothing? For someone who claimed to love humans and all their emotions and behaviors so much, you really wondered how much he really understood them sometimes. “You know, if you wanted to lend a hand, it might be even sooner.”

You made another embarrassing noise, your eyes snapping back around and fixing on his own. The expression in his sharp brown eyes told you he wasn’t just you or making some inappropriate joke, not completely. Izaya was dead serious suggesting you ‘lend him a hand’ with his current ‘business’. You should have been mad. You should have been uncomfortable. You should have walked away then. But something else was creeping up and up, suppressing what you should have done, leaving behind the sense that you didn’t quite hate the idea.

You weren’t ready to give in completely, though, not yet. “Was that your plan when you invited me over?” You tried to deflect once more, but your angry speech was half-hearted.

He gave a small shrug, still languorously pumping his hand up and down, smearing a new bead of pre-cum along the head of his dick. You licked your lips, and you weren’t sure whether it was from nerves or hunger. “Who knows? Maybe, maybe not.” Of course Izaya would give you a nonsense answered that told you nothing.

“Can you just put your pants on, please?” You tried weakly, a last ditch effort to squish down the hot feeling suffusing you and to call his bluff. But Izaya wouldn’t be moved.

“Weren’t you leaving though?” He questioned calmly. “So why should I? Then I can’t take care of this.” You groaned mentally at his ‘logic’ that amounted to his typical games. “So, what’s stopping you?”

You didn’t speak, listening only to the slick sound of Izaya stroking himself, as if trying to come up with an appropriate excuse. But there was none. You were still there because you wanted to be. You sputtered some nonsense at first, before sighing in defeat.

“I...I just… fine,” you mumbled, unable to meet his cutting gaze when you agreed.

He didn’t seem bothered or surprised by your admission, and when you looked back up, he was smirking widely, as if he had expected you to crumble and play right into his hands. “Well, what are you waiting for then?”

You nearly scowled at the impatience of the question, but shook your head. You approached quickly, stopping once you stood in front of him. You licked your lips again and swallowed thickly, kneeling between his legs. Up close and personal with his cock, it you for real the favor you had submitted yourself to. It made your stomach twist in a way that was pleasantly hot, but with a nervous flutter. But even if he would probably let you, there was no back down now. You had dug your hole and you intended to stay in it.

Feeling Izaya’s eyes burning down onto you, you lifted a hand tentatively, more intimidated than you would have admitted. You nearly jumped when the hand he had been pleasuring himself with seized yours. Your face was on fire as he guided your hand over his shaft, helping you wrap it around the heated skin. He made a small sound in the back of his throat at the contact, his palm lingering over your hand. Gingerly, you shifted your hand up and down, mimicking him, the skin hot and velvety under your fingers.

“There, just like that,” Izaya cooed, his hips rocking up into your touch. His hand left yours to bury itself in the cushion beside him.

You chanced a subtle glance up, past his exposed torso and up his chest. His head lolled back against the sofa back, and his chest rose and fell deeply in more noticeable, pleasured breaths as you stroked. He seemed more than willing to sit back and fully indulge in your touch, apparently a far more exhilarating experience than his own.

“What a good girl,” he praised as your grip tightened you pumped his cock more surely, enjoying the noises that vibrated up his chest. They were low and smooth, containing all the richness of his speaking voice, yet none of the frustrating teasing or condescension. “Mmph, a little hard, don’t be shy,” he coaxed, giving a particularly eager buck of his hips, a new drop of pre-cum beading on the head of his dick.

You did as instructed, and the sound of his breathing deepened more, the small, pleasant sounds morphing into longer, bawdy groans. “How’s that?” you prompted, the confidence from watching him come slowly undone steadying your voice, the sheer arousal in it surprising you.

“Mm, good, keep going.”

You stuck to the steady rhythm you had set, your tongue wetting suddenly dry lips again as you alternated between watching Izaya’s blissful form above you and his throbbing cock in front of you. You moved your idle hand up, cradling his balls in your palm and rubbing gently, rewarded with even more erotic noises. You weren’t sure whether you were more turned on by the eroticism of the sounds themselves, or the fact you were hardly ever heard Izaya sound so unrestrained.

Your gaze stopped, lingering on his cock, and you decided if you were going to help out, you may as well have a little more fun, as well as satisfy the hunger building in you. You bent forward, your breath fanning over the head hotly, and you barely caught a shiver roll through Izaya. You leaned closer, opening your mouth and licking coyly at the flushed head, the bitter taste of pre-cum flooding your senses.

“ Oh .” The word was surprised, excited almost, made even more so by the breathiness that carried it. “I didn’t even have to ask you to do that.” Your faced burned with embarrassment you fought to ignore, letting your lips wrap around the head, swirling your tongue along the underside. “More eager than you let on, I see. But I’m not complaining.”

Izaya relaxed more limply against the cushions, save for the rhythmic roll of his hips meeting the hot, wet touch of your mouth. You sank down on his cock more, slowly, trying to account for the motion of his hips to not choke yourself on his length. Fortunately, though it was steady, his pace was languid, letting you adjust easily. You took as much as you could without inciting your gag reflex, shifting between dancing your tongue along his skin or pressing flat against the underside or teasing the head where it connected to his shaft.

Above you, Izaya’s dulcet chorus of groans and mumbled words escalated and his fingers met the top of your head. They curled loosely, massaging methodically, neither forcing you down or adjust to a new pace.

“Hmm, and they say I’ve got a talented tongue,” Izaya hummed huskily and you couldn’t stifle a low moan in answer, the sound shooting through Izaya and making his hips stutter. “Sure seems like you know to use yours though,” he praised again, and you could make out the teasing tone you were so used to among his lusty, strained voice.

Izaya fell silent for a time, or at least he fell wordless, panting and groaning his pleasure, the sounds accentuated by the wet noises you made while you sucked him off. But Izaya’s was a mouth that couldn’t stand staying silent for long. “You can take a little more, can’t you?” He asked insistently, his fingers tightening their loose hold. He thrust his hips more roughly into your mouth as you sank down again, as if punctuating his question.

Tears stung at your eyes for an instant as the tip of his dick touched your throat and you inhaled deeply to relax it. You took in even more of his cock, noticing the roll of his hips slow, as if accommodating you to take his length more easily. When you pulled back, his hand only let you go so far, effectively keeping you from pulling away. You indulged him, satisfied with the even more ragged breaths replacing his words and more of the salty fluid leaking from him.

Your jaw was beginning to ache, but you ached elsewhere as well, and it urged you to continue. With your mouth wrapped around him so intimately, you could tell Izaya was getting very close to cumming, from the increasing cant of his hips to the harsh pitch of his breath to the way his cock twitched, even more hard.

“Mm, that’s it. Almost there.” Izaya confirmed your suspicions, the lustiness of his tone adding to the urgency. “If you don’t want a mouthful, you might want to stop,” he warned you, surprisingly considerate in the moment.

Your eyes flickered up, but you didn’t stop, trying to hum your acknowledgement around a mouthful of his dick, working him even more eagerly.

“Oh, shit, you’re more obscene than I thought. If that’s how you want it,” His excitement pierced his arousal again, as if he hadn’t expected you to be so wrapped up in servicing him.

Thrusting into your mouth more desperately, his hips finally stuttered as he finished, filling your mouth with hot ropes of thick that you swallowed as soon as the bitter taste swept over your tongue. Several especially long, feral moans drifted from Izaya’s lips as you drank him down, until at last he was spent and there was nothing left for you to swallow. You drew away, wiping a smear of drool and some stray cum from your mouth with the back of your hand and resting back on your knees.

“There, that’s taken care of,” you said, your attempt to sound level and collected ruined by your own arousal making your voice overly breathy. “Now did you actually have a reason for inviting me over?”

Izaya laughed breathlessly, as if amused by your change of pace, lying boneless against the sectional. “Of course, my dear,” he answered when his laughter died, tipping his head forward to look at you. “I wouldn’t lie to your like that. Though, if you’d like, I can return the favor. It sounds like you need it.”

#izaya orihara #durarara!!#writing #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #reader-insert #fic friday #nsft #n/s/f/w/#drrr!!

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kiarcheo · 4 years ago

Text

It’s All Coming Back to Me Now 6/?

To read on Ao3 click here (if lately you had the same problem with links on Tumblr as me, try removing the https://href.li/? part from the URL)

You can read the previous parts on Tumblr click here

DISCLAIMER: In Plato’s words. I know that I know nothing. It doesn't stop me from writing. As always this is fiction and what I write is what suits the narrative I want.

Also I feel like there are a lot of expectations about this one…not sure I met them, but this is what I got.

--------------------------------------------

For all the scenarios Katherine had thought of, her song putting a halt to the musical writing process had not been one of them. She doesn’t notice at first. Cathy’s song is the next one and she just assumes she is taking her time with it. She knows how careful the writer is when choosing her words (picky, Anne had teased her while telling them how long it took Cathy to decide on what to write on Kat’s birthday card). So it takes Kat a while to realise that Cathy never brings up the musical anymore. None of them do.

Their reactions to the song had been...strong. They have all come to care deeply about the youngest queen (and each other in general) and hearing what she went through...Rage does not do justice to what they felt...among many other feelings.

Catalina’s legs had given away beneath her halfway the first verse, a strangled noise alerting Anna, who had lunged forward and had barely managed to catch her before she hit the ground. Then Catalina had literally used her friend’s body to support herself and climb back to her feet. Anna had not minded, the contact grounding her. Even somehow knowing what to expect, it did not make listening to it any easier. So she had stood there, an arm loosely around Catalina’s shaking frame, ready to hold her up if need be.

As Katherine concluded her song, all you could hear in the control room were muffled sobs from all the queens. Until the girl stood up.

‘Get yourself together.’ Catalina had hoarsely growled. ‘It’s not about you.’

Cathy had not been sure if she had been talking to them or to herself. If she had to be honest, she had not expected such a visceral reaction from her. From Kat’s cousins, maybe, but not from Catalina. And not because she cared less or anything like that. Anyone spending some time with them could easily tell that Catalina loved Kat. Just…in a different way compared to Anne or Jane or even herself and Anna. Almost…maternal. Which makes sense if Cathy thinks about it. Catalina had been the only one of them who got to be a mother. And Kat was the youngest queen, in the past and also now that they came back, even if not by much (Cathy herself was just a few years older). But the first queen had always strived to maintain a certain degree of composure, even around them, while Anne and Jane had been more open with their emotions. For Catalina to let go, to let them see her so raw and exposed…

As soon as Kat had stepped into the room, Catalina had engulfed her in a tight hug. When Anne had tried to step in, she had immediately recoiled at the glare she had received. But after a while, with no sign of Catalina letting Kat go any time soon, Anne had given up on waiting for her turn, and just decided to try her luck and join the hug. With no protest forthcoming, it quickly became a group hug.

They had made sure to make crystal clear to Kat their support and willingness to listen or do anything she might need them to do. But what resulted was also an unsaid agreement among them not to bring up the topic unless Kat did it first. Which included not bringing up the musical since her song is all about that and what started everything.

Everyone took it hard, but nobody took it harder than Catalina. She knew 13-year-old Katherine. She remembers 13-year-old Katherine as if it was yesterday. To know what happened to her. Because she left her. Before, she had thought her death had indirectly led to Katherine’s marriage and consequently her death. But now…To know that as soon as she left her, everything bad started to happen to the girl she considers a daughter...The nightmares, which had petered off, come back with a vengeance.

That’s the main reason it takes a while for Kat to realise she hasn’t really thought or talked about the musical since she presented her song: all her focus and energy are on Catalina. She is back at spending her nights at her side, after arguing that she would be awake in her room anyway, so at least they can be awake together. It takes its toll on their days too. Not just because they are tired from sleepless nights. The only reason Catalina can still face Katherine is that she knows how hurt she would be if she were to go back at avoiding looking at her like when she first arrived. Catalina’s guilt is overwhelming and colours every interaction.

They are both aware of how it is affecting their relationship and decide to take remedial actions before it becomes too much and ruins it permanently: they are going to therapy.

It is not the first time the topic comes up. It had been one of the suggestions on the online forums they had looked at when Catalina had decided that it was time to start to deal with what they deemed, for the sake of brevity, ‘the Mary issue’. They had found some support groups for families of offenders. Among the advice on how to come to terms with a loved one committing terrible crimes, a common one was therapy. Except that Catalina could not exactly talk about her daughter burning people at stake for religious dissent without A) breaking the NDA she signed about not revealing her true identity to the public B) likely being considered deranged. That’s also why she never attended any group in person, limiting herself to research, reading and self-help with Katherine’s support.

But now, that is not enough, and Catalina is willing to try anything to save their relationship (and she thinks Katherine might benefit from talking about her trauma, properly…and with a professional). They decide to ask their ‘handlers’ for recommendations, taking advantage of their help as long as they can before potentially pissing them off with their musical. Considering the NDAs they had signed, it is likely in their interest that they don’t go to a random therapist and spill the beans. Indeed, they get a handful of names of approved professionals who are used to work with people not always able to fully disclose their past, or even their present (they didn’t get details, but their guess is something like witness protection or law enforcement) and thus won’t question weird gaps and omissions in patients’ histories.

They do some research and choose a practice with multiple therapists, all women, with different specialisations. The first meeting is with a senior partner who will get the laydown and decide whom, among the associates, refer them to.

‘My name is Doctor Sonya Newton, I’m going to ask you some questions to assess the issues and decide the best way to move forward, okay?’ the doctor starts after the prospective patients sit down. ‘It is important that you are as truthful and open as you can. If you don’t wish to answer, say so and we’ll move on, but please don’t lie. Lying will only, at best, undermine our efforts and at worst hurt them...or you. You are free to leave at any point, to decide that you don’t wish to continue, to look for another practice, again – I can’t stress this enough – at any point. We are here to help you, and if it’s not working for you…well, what is the point then?’

She waits for a response, and only after she gets a pair of tense nods, she moves on. ‘Now that ground rules are done. Let’s start with the basics. Can you tell me your name and your relationship with each other?’

‘My name is Katherine and I’m her-’ she hesitates.

‘Daughter. She is my daughter and I’m Catalina, her mother.’

The doctor scribbles something down. She didn’t miss the hesitation in Katherine’s answer nor the glance she sent the older woman, but neither she missed the elated look when Catalina took over and replied.

‘Who did decide to come?’ It’s the following question.

‘We both did.’ This time is Katherine who answers for both, Catalina nodding in agreement.

‘That’s good. When both parties are willing to put in the work…the first step is half the journey.’ Sonya smiles at them. ‘What are you hoping to get from these sessions?’

‘There are some...issues that are affecting our relationship and we realised we needed help to deal with them properly.’

‘That’s also good. Recognising there is a problem is the first step and doing something about it is the best second one.’ Catalina’s reply gets another approving nod from the doctor. ‘What do you think those issues are?’

They share a look, a response not coming as quickly as the previous ones.

‘Let me ask a different question. What do you hope the other will get from this?’

‘I hope she’ll realise that what happened to me was not her fault. She literally could not do anything about it. She feels guilty for stuff that was completely out of her control. I’ve never blamed her, not then, not now, and I wish she could see it.’

Sonya hums. She had not expected Katherine to take the lead. It is shaping up to be an interesting and perhaps rather unusual dynamic.

‘What about you?’

‘I know she feels guilty for me feeling guilty.’ It’s basically a self-feeding circle. Catalina feels guilty for what happened to Kat leading to nightmares and her instinctively trying to distance herself from the girl. Kat feels guilty that Catalina is suffering again from nightmares because of her, despite it not being her fault, and she is hurt because of the distancing. Which leads Catalina to feel even more guilty because she is hurting her. ‘But actually, the thing I really want is...for her to feel confident and secure in my love. Stop living in fear of disappointing me, in fear I’ll leave her-’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know-’ Kat had not realised she knew. ‘I know you would not do that, I don’t want you to think that-’

‘I know. I got you back and I'm never letting you go. No matter what. There is nothing you could do that could make me love you any less. Especially not something that was not your fault. It just breaks my heart every time you look surprised at me being proud of you, or you second-guess calling yourself my daughter-’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was hurting you, I-’ Katherine starts again.

‘That’s what I mean.’ Catalina interrupts her gently but addressing the doctor. Then she turns to Kat again. ‘You’re not responsible for my feelings. Just like you’re not responsible for my nightmares.’

‘I have some points I’d like you to elaborate a bit more on, if you don’t mind.’ Sonya says looking at her notes after waiting for some moments to be sure they don’t wish to say more on the matter. ‘But first. Do you agree with what the other said about you?’

She gets twin resigned sighs and nods.

‘Okay.’ She jots something down. ‘Now. You both referred to something that happened and you were not at fault for. Can you tell me what those things are?’

Catalina defers to Katherine with a look clearly saying ‘that’s your call’.

The girl swallows. ‘Sexual abuse.’

‘Child sexual abuse.’ Catalina growls.

The doctor looks down at her notepad. No matter how long you have been on the job and how much horrible stuff you hear, it never gets easier. She takes a moment to digest it, before moving on because she has a job to do. 'Do you blame yourself for that, Katherine?’

‘No. I know it was not my fault. I was a child and even later, I didn’t really have a choice.’

‘And you were still a child.’

‘Can I ask how old you were?’

‘It started when I was 13.’

The doctor nods. The girl looks in her early twenties at most, so that was not such a long time ago, especially if it went on for a while.

‘Do you feel or ever felt that your mother would think it was your fault?’

‘No. Not that. Just...that...she’d be…disappointed? Ashamed? Lots of people didn’t believe me, you know. Or thought I deserved what I got. Went looking for it.’ She gets lost in the memories for a few moments. ‘But I never thought she’d be one of them. But I also knew that it was not what she had hoped for me.’

‘Of course, it was not.’ Catalina almost spats out. ‘I would not wish that on my worst enemy, of course I would not wish that for my child.’

‘I always wanted to make her proud.’

‘You do.’

‘And I struggle to believe that. She is right.’ Katherine admits, referring to what Catalina listed as the main issue she hoped therapy would help her with. ‘It’s just that I’ve always looked up to her. I know she is not perfect. She doesn’t have to be. Not with me.’ She sends her a pointed look. ‘Look. I don’t know.’ Her tone is slightly defeated. ‘I’m generally quite confident in lots of things...but I just...feel like I don’t deserve her? After my mother died, she has been the only one who ever truly and genuinely loved me for myself without ulterior motives. Some days it’s just hard to believe that she did. Does. Since nobody else ever did.’

Catalina clears her throat. ‘I know four people who would argue about that...’

‘Until recently, I guess.’ Katherine corrects herself, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips.

Sonya hums. ‘You mentioned your mother dying?’

‘I adopted her after we....reunited.’

‘That’s a lot to unpack.’ The doctor mumbles almost to herself as she keeps writing quickly on her notepad. ‘Am I correct in saying that you feel guilty about not stopping the abuse from happening?’

Catalina nods while Katherine mutters ‘Literally impossible.’

‘Can you give me some background? How did you meet? What happened...’

‘After her mother died, she was in my care,’ they had gone over what they could share and what not. Saying that Kat was taking care of Catalina would be strange, but the opposite made more sense and was expected, and it could explain their bond just like the truth would. ‘Then I had to-’

‘Leave.’

Catalina swallows and nods. That’s a way to put it. But she is glad that Kat did it for her...and like that. Her death is still a difficult topic for her. At first it had been more about the circumstances in which she died, but now, knowing what happened after...it’s even worse.

Sonya raises an eyebrow, as if to let them know she is aware that they are not telling the full story, but she nonetheless motions for them to continue.

‘I was sent to stay with some relatives. That’s where it started.’

‘Did you choose to leave?’ The doctor addresses Catalina.

‘No! It was,’ she takes a breath, ‘circumstances beyond my control.’

Sonya nods. It is not uncommon to know something rationally but emotionally still feeling guilty. ‘What happened after? Things seem to be better now...’

‘We were...brought back together.’ They beam at each other. ‘I officially adopted her.’

‘The last years had been the best of my life.’

The doctor can’t help smiling at the obvious happiness and love they radiate while talking about each other being together again. ‘Is there a specific reason you have decided to seek counselling now or is it just...right time, circumstances, things coming to a head now...’ she wonders.

‘Up until recently I had not shared what happened. Like, she knew how it ended, they all did. But not everything that came before.’

‘That’s a very brave thing to do. Sharing is never easy. Especially if you have done so in the past and have not been believed. And considering your fear of losing her love.’ She adds since that’s specific to her case. ‘Also I commend you for reaching out and looking for help. Both of you. Often admitting that you need help is the hardest step.’

---------------------------------

Therapy now joins Spanish, writing and creating a musical, and adoption in the list of things I wrote about in this fic I know very little of.

#six the musical #catherine and katherine #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #fic: It’s All Coming Back to Me Now #six fic #six the musical fic #six catherine of aragon #six katherine howard #mywork #my ideas #six writing #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #my six posts #my posts

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rinusagitora · 4 years ago

Text

Another empty seat in the city of ghosts.

Fandom: BLEACH

Characters: Toushirou Hitsugaya, Momo Hinamori, Kisuke Urahara, Tessai Tsukabishi, Ururu Tsumugiya, Jinta Hanakari, Yuzu Kurosaki, Ichigo Kurosaki, Karin Kurosaki

Pairings: HitsuKarin, others not mentioned

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Shinigami!Karin AU. Chapter 1/8. WARNINGS- mentions of suicide, dysfunctional families; Karin has taken her life. What follows is a maelstrom of emotion.

AO3

It was hard to believe that, only days ago, Karin took her own life.

Toushirou saw it coming from miles and miles away. He was the one who cleaned up her cut wrists. Hurried over when she was suffering. But it wasn't enough.

Ultimately, Karin got what she wanted: a chance to be a shinigami.

Toushirou and Momo were being processed by the gate guardians. Following Aizen's desertion, they'd tightened up gateways to other dimensions. Now, captains and lieutenants were unable to travel without permission, unless they wanted to receive potentially fatal electrocution from the sigils staining their skins.

But they passed through later. Upstairs, Kisuke Urahara was showing them their gigai.

"Hinamori-fukutaichou, I'm afraid this is vastly different from your last gigai. Since your stay is short-term, it's more or less a... silhouette. Only purposes being harboring your soul, and suppressing your powers. Since it's a ceremony with so many powered folks packed together, we're trying this to avoid hollow attacks."

"Aye," Momo replied, nodding.

"Yours is similar, Hitsugaya."

Toushirou frowned. "It's Hitsugaya-taichou," he corrected Kisuke. Kisuke merely chuckled. He probably blamed Toushirou for Karin's suicide as well. Like he'd talk her into something so traumatic. Asshole.

"Yes... yours is similar, of course, except for... well, deadened nerves. Kurosaki Yuzu is livid."

"Fuck me..." he grumbled.

"I'd rather not, but I'd be prepared for a slap or two. Hopefully, she leaves the nether region alone, but if not, it is equally as dead."

"Thanks for the heads up," Toushirou said. "Where is Karin?"

"The temple, with Kurosaki Ichigo. He's kept a tight leash on her since the... the..." Kisuke couldn't finish. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Thank you," Toushirou said. As much as he hated Kisuke, Toushirou knew Kisuke was fond of Karin, perhaps as fond as his children were.

"Well, I will see you two there... I have to get ready for the memorial service."

"Thank you, Urahara-san. Take care."

He and Momo stepped into their gigai, prepped with black kimono, although Momo's hem and sleeves were adorned with flowers. Lilies and marigolds. How appropriate.

"You remembered the envelope?"

"Of course," Momo replied, straightening her collar. "The car is waiting. Shall we?"

"Aye."

On the drive over, Momo lit her pipe. Toushirou was never particularly fond of tobacco, or how his sister's habit ruined her skin, but given what was to come, he could sure use a puff. Or a drink.

Maybe he should've brought Rangiku... She didn't cope much better during funerals, but she, at least, would have something that she was willing to share to take off the edge. Very much unlike Momo. The only thing she ever really shared with him was conversation. Practically force-fed him, refrained from sharing the shit he cared about.

They came to a stop before the temple. Many were filing in. Toushirou recognized a few. Uryuu arrived just before them, Hiyori loitered in the doorway. Many he didn't recognize.

Jinta and Ururu were there with their other father Tessai. They bowed in unison.

"Yuzu is livid," Ururu said.

"So Urahara told us."

"I stand by her."

Tessai knocked Ururu upside her head. "Enough, honey," he warned, then turned to Toushirou and Momo. "Thank you for coming. Karin-chan will be pleased."

"I imagine," Momo replied, still smoking. "What should we expect from Kurosaki Ichigo?"

"We're keeping him in line if Yuzu doesn't," Jinta replied. "He agreed to keep the peace when Tou-tou and he talked."

"And the Kurosaki girl?" Momo asked.

"Yuzu?"

"Nay, the one we're here for."

Ururu looked inside. "She's... not crying. I think she's distancing herself from this ordeal."

"Perhaps it's for the better."

Tessai said, "Hand-off will occur before cremation. Kurosaki Isshin only agreed to allow us in for the service since Karin asked, but the burial is for family and Kurosaki Ichigo's close friends only."

"I see Kuchiki-fukutaichou as well."

"She won't be causing trouble. She's here as a family friend."

Toushirou and Momo bowed again. "Many thanks," Toushirou said. "We'll head in."

Rukia was the first to spot them. She strode over. "Neither of you are welcome. Please leave before Yuzu sees you."

"The deceased requested us, and the patriarch has permitted us entry," he replied. Everyone was so fucking hostile...

"No matter. Do you want to start shit?" she hissed.

Momo said, "We haven't started anything, Kuchiki-fukutaichou. Besides... do you think it wise to start shit here? Our powers are merely dampened, but I know for a fact there are enough of us gathered here to alert trouble if contention brews."

Before Rukia could reply, Yuzu stormed over. Rukia quickly escaped.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Your father said we were welcomed to the ceremony," he said.

She jabbed a finger against his chest. "You may as well have murdered my sister! I don't want you here!"

Toushirou sighed. "And I do?"

"And who is this skank?" Yuzu hissed, jerking her chin to Momo.

"My sister." Toushirou frowned. "Don't treat her like my mistress."

Momo encased Yuzu's hands. "We are here to grieve just as ye. I understand how difficult this is. My husband passed during a tumultuous time... We hadn't time to bury him, either."

Toushirou almost rolled his eyes. Momo learned how to lie from the best. But it worked. Yuzu relaxed.

"I'm sorry. It's been... it's been a long couple of days."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Kurosaki-san." Momo bowed. "If you need anything, please let me know. I haven't service at home, but Urahara-san can reach me if needed."

"Thank you."

"May we take a seat?"

"In the back, please. The front rows are taken."

"Aye. Thank you again, Kurosaki-san."

Momo and Toushirou took a seat. Because of their gigai suppressing their powers, Toushirou was unable to see Karin, although knew she was there. There were too many people of strong reiatsu concentrated in the temple. It risked a hollow attack. The dampening was meant as a security measure.

The Seireitei owed Ichigo too much to go against a small favor, however cruel it was to Karin.

"I can see why Kurosaki-san is so upset," Momo said.

"Karin was in pain," he insisted.

"I'm in no position to judge her," Momo reminded Toushirou. "But look at the Kurosaki family... Stiff as boards. The little one is the only one weeping, and neither of them is consoling her."

"They're... dysfunctional. I'm sure she refused it."

"For good reason?"

"Aye. They... nay, we all, have lied to her for years. I'm sure she harbors conflicting feelings."

Momo hummed. "Aye."

Toushirou took a good look at the altar, surrounded by white lilies. He frowned. White was never Karin's color. Blacks, reds... Hydrangeas or marigolds would've been more appropriate.

But she was beautiful in her photo. Smiling, youthful. It made him mad too. She was happy with him. With Jinta and Ururu, not some sad, doctored school photo.

Thankfully, Momo didn't seem to pick up on his internal tantrum, merely smoked.

The time came for the service. A priest stepped up and uttered a sutra. Toushirou admittedly zoned out during it. None of it concerned them. What did was Karin. She was in there, but he was unable to console her, take her to her new home, to ease her pain... It was bullshit. Complete bullshit.

Once the service came to an end, Toushirou and Momo quickly escaped, joining Kisuke outside.

"I don't have much time... I'm going to the cremation as well," he said.

They wordlessly stepped out of their gigai. They were tucked into the back of a van and covered with a shimmery sheet that made them completely vanish. Momo and he bowed.

"Best of, Urahara-san."

"Kurosaki will meet you by the aqueduct under an overpass. It's in the center of town," he explained. "Anticipate some... some shit from him too. He's very upset."

"Thanks."

With that as their goodbye, they sped off to the heart of Karakura. Toushirou saw Ichigo's hair from the sky, and they sunk to the ground.

The second Toushirou saw Ichigo, he wanted to strangle him. It felt like they were sizing each other up. Toushirou was sure to lose an arm, but it would've been satisfying clocking him.

Karin was sitting on a bench. There was still a generous amount of chain leftover, thankfully. Toushirou just hoped she hadn't experienced the chain consuming itself... the immense pain.

Toushirou couldn't bring himself to bow to Ichigo, but Momo did. "Thank you for allowing us into your sister's service, Kurosaki-sama."

"It wasn't my choice."

"Nonetheless," Momo said, smiling. "I'd like this to be done in an as expeditious manner as possible."

Karin hopped to her feet. Toushirou instantly wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her like his bride into the other world, away from that mess. That nightmare. "Let's go," she said.

"Hang on." Ichigo stopped her with his arm out shooting. His eyes bore into Toushirou's, and he glared back. "I want him to admit his fault in this."

"Jesus Christ!" Karin shrieked. "I killed myself because there's nothing for me here! Toushirou had nothing to fucking do with it."

"Bullshit! He had to have said something."

"It's your fault I killed myself, alright? It's all your fault! I got tired of getting steamrolled and gaslit by you so I killed myself to get the hell away from you!" Karin ducked his arm and ran over to Toushirou. He happily accepted her embrace. "I'm going to the Seireitei. I'm becoming a shinigami... It's the only way I'll be happy. Fulfilled."

Ichigo looked hurt. Crying. Toushirou turned away, opening the senkaimon into the other side.

He had no idea what awaited them in the future. He hoped, at least, Karin's suffering eased.

#bleach #hitsukarin #shinigami karin au #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #karin kurosaki #ichigo kurosaki #ururu tsumugiya #kisuke urahara #tessai tsukabishi #jinta hanakari #yuzu kurosaki

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t100ficrecsblog · 4 years ago

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an interview with @easilydistractedbyfanfic (she/they)

what are you working on right now? I don’t typically take prompts, but after finding out about the Bellarke Writers For BLM Initiative and how their goal is to raise money for BLM via various fandom prompts that are requested by readers and written & illustrated by various writers and artists, I wanted to get involved. I’ve finished two prompts and am working on my third, which is a Murphy/Raven smutfic set during their years on the Ring. It’s definitely an idea I can work with - it’s over 10k at this point with a lot more to say, so hopefully the anon who requested it will end up pleased! Go check out the tumblr page and the ao3 collection - there’s various t100 pairings/ratings and you can choose the cause if you want to request a fic!

what is the fanwork you’re most proud of? I struggled with this question! My stories are all like my kids, and even if some of them could use a bit of improvement with pacing or dialogue or whatever faults I see when they age, ultimately I do love them all and I’m glad I wrote them. I do sometimes play favorites but that often depends on what I’m in the mood to read myself. That said, I really do always feel proud of my story called What You Need. It’s a darker version of Raven & Murphy, but one that I don’t find unrealistic under the circumstances of the fic. I surprised myself with where my head went on this one. In a good way, because it was really fascinating to dive into the minds of who these particular versions of the characters were.

I’m also pleased that I have over 500k on ao3 at this point. I never expected anything like this when I started writing, and it kind of blows my mind that this is my hobby now. It’s so strange to me that there are stories in my head at any given moment now.

why did you first start writing fic? I started writing in June 2018. Never wrote any fanfic before that, ever - though I did read plenty! I wrote three stories super fast, posted them all on ao3 on the same day and haven’t looked back. I think I started writing out of a combination of just really needing more content for my faves, but also I wasn’t in fandom before s5 and was quite desperate after s4 to talk to other people about Raven & Murphy. So I needed to get the stories out but also I had this hope that it would invite conversation when I didn’t know anyone in fandom.

what frustrates you most about fic writing? Just because I want to write doesn’t mean I can. Having prompts on my plate right now, I feel a real responsibility to finish them, but even when I carve time out to write, sometimes the words just don’t feel right. The muse doesn’t always strike when I have the time available. Also, it’s super ridiculously important to me that scenes and dialogue FEEL right based on the characterization I have in my head in any particular story. I can look at a scene I’ve written, especially an emotional one, and sometimes it’s just not resonating with me the way I know it could or should. It’s tough not to just push through and post it as-is, but I know that would never satisfy me, even if it means a much longer turn-around time on a story or chapter update. Often I will find that I get an a-ha moment that cracks open a better understanding of why a scene isn’t working for me, but this can take time and I have to trust in this process.

Not to preach, but it’s also frustrating when something you spend a lot of time and effort on doesn’t get much in the way of comments. I see posting fic on ao3 as a sort of conversation, so when there’s mostly silence even as the hits (and hopefully kudos) tick upwards, it can feel really...disheartening to feel like you’re talking into a void. And I say this as someone who has been fortunate enough to have regular readers who DO give feedback! I think every writer understands that they need to write for themselves first and foremost, but I wish more readers understood that feedback and enthusiasm will absolutely result in MORE CONTENT! I try very hard to follow this guideline myself by supporting and commenting on everything I read as time permits.

what are your top five songs right now? I listen to a huge mix of songs & my childhood influenced me a lot.

Some floating in my head include -

Chris Cornell’s live cover of Nothing Compares 2U Indigo Girls - Romeo & Juliet The Decemberists - Once In My Life Tori Amos - Silent All These Years The Chicks - March March

what are your inspirations (books, songs, other fic)? I find inspiration in a lot of things, which I think is lucky. One of my biggest is the characters themselves. I love getting deep into understanding who I think they are, what their motivations are and why they’d make certain decisions, whether in canon or in an AU. What parts of their personalities do they keep when they aren’t tortured and under trauma on the regular? What would happen if I change this one scenario in their lives? I could probably go on forever just based on these sorts of thoughts, but I do also find inspiration in simple things like tropes, or song lyrics and the lore of the show itself. Quite a lot of my ideas in my inspiration notebook have sci-fi themes too. A few of my stories have already touched on sci-fi topics, and I absolutely plan more of them because I love how creative that can be. I also love the idea of suspended belief - can I have sentient plant life from an alien planet that can mindread & communicate by projecting thoughts into characters' heads? Yes, yes I can! (I wrote this story, fyi - Flora Incognita, part of a series)

what attracts you to Murven? what first attracted you? Hey, do you have all day? Ha! Seriously, I could talk about this until everyone wants to strangle me! I loved Raven immediately - not so much Murphy! But I really disliked Finn, so ep 1x10 when Raven finally broke up with him had me interested. In that ep, you can see that Murphy is present, awake & nearby in the Dropship and probably overhears everything Raven says. Then he gets up and looks at her to make sure she’s still sleeping before he carries out his revenge plans. I’m not kidding - that one look absolutely and completely hooked me! Murphy was still awful then but he was so much more interesting than Finn, and back then I remember thinking how I’d really like to see them interact as two stubborn, strong personalities, because no doubt sparks would fly. And then when they did interact more, their dynamic was exactly what I’d hoped for and then some!

I love that they’ve seen each other at their worst and at their weakest and most vulnerable, yet they’ve built a strong foundation of trust, faith and understanding. They have so much in common but they’re also different sides of the coin in some ways too. Fandom talks about Bellarke being the head & the heart, but to me Raven and Murphy are the intellect & the instinct - they complement each other, provide some of the qualities that the other needs, their differences improve each other. For me, nobody gets Raven like Murphy & nobody understands Murphy like Raven. Maybe not a lot of people notice, but Raven & Murphy check in with each other a lot - Raven tends to say “I got this” but Murphy is the only person who replies to her “Do you?”. And Raven listens to Murphy’s ideas and suggestions and plans even when she’s known as the genius because she knows that he has valuable things to say. They have fun together, make each other smile and enjoy each other’s company, which is in such short supply in this show!

I know there’s parts of fandom that don’t ship them because Murphy shot Raven in s1. I have a lot of thoughts on it and have had quite a few tumblr posts about it. This is a fictional show - it does not reflect reality. I’ve been on the fringes of fandom for a long time and I know shipping doesn’t always mean yes, I want to see this relationship in real life. For me, I think it’s absolutely fascinating that someone Raven should hate has become one of her closest and most trusted friends. That she forgave him, and we as the audience get to see this dynamic change and grow, and that Murphy has always felt guilty about it even though he was being presented as selfish and out for himself - it’s such a huge, huge part of each of their character’s journeys. This is getting rather meta, but I don’t think either of these characters would have survived this long or evolved to the extent that they each have without specifically being around each other.

And I absolutely can not discuss my love for Raven & Murphy without mentioning the whole way these two LOOK at each other! OMG have you SEEN it?!?? How could I not ship them when they look at each other like that! LOL! Also, I want to keep talking about this but I’ll stop now because I truly could go on forever and anyone who follows me already knows I’m wordy.

BESIDES Murven, what’s your favorite ship in t100? Honestly, nothing else comes close to Murven for me, but I did like Kabby before the show just eviscerated their characters. I like the possibilities of Niytavia still. I can see why people ship Murphamy in the earlier seasons. Definitely think Echo/Roan could’ve been something intriguing. And I’ve got this weird thing going right now where I wouldn’t hate Murphy/Russheda, but admittedly that’s mostly about the aesthetic! I tried really hard to like other partners for Raven & Murphy since they’ve always been my faves, but I’ve been meh about all the possibilities except Luna as a partner for Raven or as a Luna/Raven/Murphy threesome. At some point I might write that. Otherwise I’d say I tend to like the friendships more than the ships.

what are some things you’d like to recommend? I always hesitate to recommend other stories & authors because I can’t stand the idea of people feeling left out if I forget to mention them! But I would like to say that I really and truly love my fellow Murven shippers who read & support my stories and who create content like fic and art and gifs and fanvids. I find so much inspiration in them even though sometimes I can’t get through 30 seconds of a fanvid before I have to pause it because the angst is too much for me!

Since you’re kind enough to ask me this question and maybe a few people will read this answer, please - I recommend that everyone educate themselves on social justice and climate change and Black Lives Matter and capitalism and unions and what intersectionality & solidarity truly mean! Vote like your lives depend on it because THEY DO!

ed’s note: compiled a few resources -Rebel Well: A Starter Survival Guide to Trumped America -Jacob and Al’s Intergalactic Intersectionality Adventure -Get involved in your local chapter of DSA -Join Your Local Mutual Aid Group -Keeping Yourself Safe Online In This Capitalistic Hellscape -Angela Davis’ book Are Prisons Obsolete? -Resource about defunding the police

You can find @easilydistractedbyfanfic here on Tumblr, on Twitter, and on AO3. You can also a request a fic written by her via @bellarkefic-for-blm!

#bellarkefic4blm #raven reyes #john murphy #murven #murven fanfiction #bellarkefics for blm interview

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let-it-show · 5 years ago

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All The Love I Found In You 9/?

Ahh, I’m sorry for the wait everyone. I still see activity on this story so thank you so much for reading it ;; You can find part 8 here! Poor Anna isn’t feeling super well and having some issues. But what else is wrong? Elsa is full of confusion and guilt, she’s not sure what to do. Ah, the troubles that come with love... Click HERE for part 10! tag for @hellodemoiselle !!

Despite being exhausted from the day, Elsa could not fall asleep.

It wasn't an isolated event. When her mind was overtaken with her worries she would stay up and just think, usually watching the sky when she stayed away from everyone. It was always better in the winter when she could watch the snow. In Ahtohallan she watched certain memories throughout the night - often they involved Anna. Between her years of isolation and leaving Arendelle, she spent time with Anna if her mind would not let her sleep. Even if she didn't tell Anna exactly what was on her mind all the time, her presence helped.

Elsa found herself gazing down on her sister's sleeping form, lying on her side by then with Anna on her back. Her shoulder had become a dull aache but still unpleasant. She was looking at her own form but it was Anna's soul in there, every movement was hers. The smile on her face, that was Anna's, and so was the hand Elsa held in her own.

"What could it be, Anna?" she whispered into the silence of the night. She had a small wish that Anna would manifest her dreams and that she could learn something from those. However, Anna's dreams could be off the wall. Elsa supposed she didn't need Anna to create scenes of reindeers in slippers racing each other in the bedroom.

Anna offered no answer, just a sleepy little sigh.

"I'm not going to leave you." Elsa had waves of strong regret flooding through her off and on as the hours went by.

If only in the past she had at least tried to connect with Anna, tried to sneak out to see her sometimes or at the very least, offered words through the door when her parents died. Her parents, who she listened to and thought the world of even as they did irreparable amounts of damage to both women. They had tried hard. What options did they even have? What they did made sense.

No. No, that was wrong. They didn't have to do exactly what the trolls said. They didn't have to keep them apart so many years. When they were a few years older than when the accident happened, why couldn't they have figured out a way for the sisters to connect? Why? It was her fault-no, she had been a little kid when she hurt Anna! She hurt Anna...

"Stop!" she growled to herself and then froze. She'd done that louder than she meant to. "Stop," she whispered again.

How to silence her mind from the thoughts that plagued her? She didn't know that they would ever quite go away. Even if they came far less often than they used to, they still happened.

Part of her wanted to walk, maybe go to the library and try to seek out an answer - both for her thoughts, and get ideas for Anna. However, she had been all over the library for the former and found no magic cure. And if she got up and left, waking up alone would surely hit Anna's panic button like a giant's rock.

She didn't want to leave her anyway, especially as Anna snuggled in closer. Elsa squeezed her hand and lowered herself back down in the bed so her face snuggled against Anna. Maybe another hour passed and Elsa finally fell asleep.

"Ooooh no, oh no..."

Elsa's eyes shot open to the sounds of moaning and groaning next to her on the bed. She sat up in alarm and looked to Anna, who had rolled on her side with her back to Elsa. The first bits of morning light fell in through the window with curtains they had forgotten to close and for a moment Elsa thought the complaint was due to being woken up..

When she heard another painful groan, she knew otherwise. "Anna...?" Her fingers gently brushed her shoulder.

"Ooooh Elsa, oh Elsa it's baaaad..."

"What's bad?" Elsa asked, her entire being nearly in panic mode at any slight bit of discomfort from her sister. She had an idea, just a little inkling...

"Oh Elsa I had some strong stuff last night and so much cheese, I'm going to be sick! My head hurts too, whyyyyy why did I do that," Anna moaned out and started inching toward the edge of the bed. "I gotta throw up."

"Woah let's get you to the washroom, throw up there and-"

"Noooope." As soon as the word was out, Anna propped herself up and leaned over to throw up. "Ohgaw!" she made a strangled noise of surprise as she did so. Elsa cringed and tried to pet her back and arm in what she hoped was a soothing gesture.

She felt a spike of cold in the air, and wasn't terribly surprised. When she was sick she made snowmen with a sneeze and one time when she was terribly nauseous she made a blizzard in the washroom. With Anna she guessed she shot some snowballs out her nose.

Her hand continued to rub Anna's arm as she felt her body shake from exertion. It took a few minutes for the poor girl to recover. Even when she seemed she had she laid her head on the pillow again and groaned.

Elsa steeled herself for the sight on the floor; she was going to take care of it right away from Anna and she started to get up. "No, please," Anna begged weakly when Elsa began to peel away from her. "Can you stay a little longer? It's still early."

"It's very early, but I need to clean up and get you some water and a bucket," Elsa told her. Then I'll lay back down with you for a little while," she told her.

Surprisingly, Anna giggled. "Oh there's nothing to worry about for cleaning." Anna turned her head a little. "I turned it into snow on the way out."

"You..." Elsa blinked. She couldn't remember ever doing that herself.

"I didn't want to be gross and I didn't want to taste it so...I sort of froze it but not entirely and anyway I puked snow." She giggled again and then groaned. "Ow..."

"I'm impressed," Elsa admitted. "You got a handle on those powers quick to turn vomit into snow in the process of, uh, yea."

"It was kinda easy for me," Anna admitted in a small voice. "But control with emotions is...it works for me I guess, when I'm happy mostly."

"Your love has always been there, always been a powerful part of you and you flourish with it," Elsa said, lowering herself to kiss Anna's cheek. "I should have expected it." She wondered if, even with Anna being in her body only a couple of days, if she already handled her powers better...

If so, she was proud. She couldn't be jealous. She had concealed too long and too hard and Anna hadn't.

"I'm going to get you water." Elsa still had to take care of her.

"Nonono, please please," Anna begged weakly. "Can you stay, I don't feel good so can you stay?"

"Anna," Elsa sighed in frustration. "I'm going to come right back! You need to drink something and if you cuddle up to me I'll fall right back asleep before getting you anything."

"I don't see the problem," Anna whined.

"I do." Elsa finally managed to slip away from Anna and the blankets, shivering in the cool air. It may have been cold anyway, but the chill born from Anna's sickness only piled onto it all. She wished she had slippers near the bed or something, but last night she hadn't exactly been thinking about a wake-up routine. "I'm going to get the fireplace going again, too."

"But I can keep you warm," Anna told her as Elsa sought out a robe by the door to throw over herself.

"I know. But you need not focus on my well being, and if you get too warm or your head hurts too much-"

"I can do it. I can do whatever you need me to, Elsa."

Elsa's hand had been on the doorknob when Anna's words made her hesitate. She noticed her voice seemed small, too. "Anna?" She peered at her and Anna was sitting halfway up in the bed peering at her with wide, begging eyes.

"Don't go, I can um, I can take care of you so stay."

"..." Elsa studied her. Surely Anna wasn't drunk, still, though a mean hangover could be messing with her mind. As a result it was bringing yet more to the surface. Elsa needed to learn it and hear it, but she didn't like it coming forth as she was trying to help her. "I know you can take care of me, but you shouldn't have to do that right now. Let me take care of you. Please? I'll be right back."

Her words seemed to do the trick, for the time being. "Oh...okay..."

Elsa smiled at her and then hurried out the door, the cool floor making her feet feel like, well, ice. It was uncomfortable at best and she hurried toward the kitchen for a fresh pitcher of water. They still had glasses in the bedroom. The cooks might be starting breakfast preparation. Elsa hoped she could easily duck in and out.

Luck was on her side. A couple of the servers were in and cleaning the counters down while the head cook had his head in the pantry. The servers saw her and opened their mouths to say hello, but Elsa just gave them a tiny wave, trying to signal she didn't have time to stop and chat. They appeared a little thrown off but that seemed about right. Anna usually chatted and was a beaming ray of sunshine to all the staff. Elsa didn't have the time or the energy to do so.

It was upon leaving the kitchen with the pitcher that she was vaguely aware she had Anna's bedhead going on for her and she never let staff see her like that. Oops.

She was making her way for the stairs when she heard a greeting called her way. "Queen Anna! My, I didn't expect to catch you this morning!"

Menander. Of course it was Menander, so early catching her leaving the kitchen when she was in a hurry. And yet, she couldn't pretend she didn't hear him so she stopped and turned. "Hello Menander!" she said with a smile. "You're...you're up early."

"As are you!" Menander was dressed in an excessively large robe. It was a deep red with lines embroidered around the bottom to resemble lighter red flames. On the chest of his rob was the runic letter Wyn in black. It looked brand new, and Elsa couldn't shake the feeling he had chosen that morning to show it off for some reason.

That man was very odd. "Sort of. I woke up thirsty and I won't be able to get the rest of the sleep I need if I don't take care of that," she said lamely.

"Ah, I think a portion of your staff and people could stand to do the same," he said with a chuckle. "I've hardly seen anyone else awake, which means the party was enjoyed."

"Something like that." She didn't want everyone out of it for the day when the world kept going and there were still discussions to be had and papers to be signed. But perhaps it could buy her and Anna more time to get going. Elsa felt fine, but...

"Are you taking water to your sister?"

"Huh? Oh.." she had started to space out. Maybe she was a little hungover.

He motioned to the pitcher. "Lots of water for one person."

"Yes." Elsa nodded. Would it matter much if she mentioned they shared the bed? They had many times before, so...

"I will let you get back to her as I ask the kitchen about a special breakfast," Menander said, bowing his head. "Please tell Elsa I said hello."

Elsa had been worked up to defend Anna passing out in her room, but Menander didn't even question it. As a result she remembered his words from the night before and suddenly felt the need to ask him a question. She called out as he started to turn. "Wait, Menander! Can I ask you something?"

He whirled right back around to regard her with a wide grin. "Of course, fair queen! What would you ask of me?"

Why was he so dramatic? "Well, it's a little strange but you see I...Olaf found this book and I couldn't quite answer him, and all your talk of twin flames yesterday morning..." She took a deep breath as she rambled much like Anna. "True love is the most powerful force in the world, right?"

"Powerful doesn't do it justice!" Menander expressively waved his hand. "It is the most beautiful force, the most awe-inspiring, sometimes the most painful and the most terrifying! It is a limitless power!"

"Okay...but what if...what if true love doesn't break a spell? What if love is definitely the key, but somehow it isn't working?"

"The answer still lies in true love, dear queen!"

Elsa tried to hide her irritation at that response. "But the true love, it's there, it's expressed, but it isn't working. The power of the spell still remains. The love is strong, but could it possibly not be strong enough?" Her heart ached at those last few words.

"Nonsense." Menander shook his head. "It is plenty strong, it just begs for a secret to come forth, or for a hurt to be understood. It calls for a balance."

At those words her mind was already working. When Anna learned of her powers and Elsa ran away, love still persisted as Anna reached out to find her pain, to try and soothe it, and to eventually save her. Elsa loved her then strongly too, but it was Anna who settled it all with her persistance and actions.

Was she as capable as her loving Anna?

"Huh. So something needs to be...learned, and done, or..."

"Perhaps simply understood, since some things cannot be changed." Menander shrugged. "Ah but that is merely what I have come to learn. Maybe this book that you - ah, Olaf - has an answer hidden deep in it. You just need to take your time reading."

"Hmm." Elsa stared at him, and then sighed. "Thank you, Menander. I-I better get back up with this pitcher," she said.

"Of course," he said, nodding his head to her again. "I hope to see you later this morning as we prepare to travel home!" he told her, turning away slowly, smiling at her as he did. "But if you so desire to spend every moment with your true love, I more than understand." And with that, he walked away.

Elsa turned his words over in her head, wishing she could get a firm grasp on them. There was something yet to be understood and balanced, but she had no clue what. Elsa was smart enough to know there was pain of the past to overcome. But as she recognized that and would be stepping up to the issues, why did the swap persist?

Her mind was working hard even as she entered the bedroom. Anna was laying down on her back, her eyes half closed. "Anna?" Elsa asked quietly as she approached the bed.

"Mmm I started falling back asleep...but head is throbbing..." Anna said weakly.

"I bet it is." Elsa rounded the bed to the nightstand, watching her step around Anna's snowpuke. It had some discoloration near the bottom and she had to look away quickly. "Sit up and have some water," she said as she poured a glass. She held it to Anna who groaned as she sat up.

"How long were you gone? It felt like a long time!"

Elsa laughed. "Not long at all. I happened across Menander and didn't want to be rude so I greeted him."

"Oh." Anna gulped down half her glass at once. "Did he look as bad as me?"

"You look fine."

"You have to say that, it's your face," Anna said with a little grin, followed by a cringe. "Ow, head."

"You always look beautiful to me, Anna, you know this," Elsa told her as she studied her own hungover features. That didn't even look like her! Surely she didn't look that dopey. "He looked fine."

Anna blushed. "Oh...I guess he didn't drink much."

"Maybe." Elsa had poured her own glass, drinking it slowly. "Anna if you're not well when I have to get up, please stay here. I know you want to stick next to me but I don't want you feeling even sicker."

Anna stopped in the middle of gulping more water and looked at her with wide eyes. "But..but Elsa!"

Elsa stepped closer to stroke her head. "I won't be going anywhere. I'll just be doing your queenly duties, you know that. And I'll check on you." She didn't want Anna to end up taking herself out harder by forcing herself to tag along.

"..." Anna looked at her glass instead. "As soon as I feel better I'm tagging along!" she declared.

"Of course." Elsa watched Anna finish her water and set her own glass down too, nearly done with it. She crawled onto the bed and over Anna very carefully. The bruise on her hip had begun to hurt. She lowered herself to the bed she could already feel Anna's hands on her arm and side, bringing her closer. It was adorable. Elsa smiled at Anna, letting her sister roll on her side and pull her closer. She draped herself over her and Elsa looked at her face. It was maybe an inch away. "You feel okay laying like that?"

"It helps, actually," Anna said as she wiggled closer. She closed her eyes and let out a happy sigh. If it worked, it worked, and Elsa wasn't going to stop her.

While Anna fell asleep, Elsa still didn't. She was so troubled! How was she supposed to figure anything out...Anna had been pretty honest with her the night before but that was under the influence of alcohol and she wasn't into getting her drunk just to talk to her. That didn't seem right.

She laid there for a while before the light poured in generously and she knew it was time to wake for her duties. Anna was still out. "Anna..." Elsa said her name quietly and gently shook her shoulder. "Anna I need to get up."

"None for me, thanks, just the flowers" Anna muttered in her sleep and didn't budge.

Elsa quieted a chuckle and stroked her face. "Anna, I'm going to move, okay?"

When there was nothing but a little sound, Elsa carefully moved herself away. The loss of Anna's touch was rough and her bruises throbbed, but she got herself going. Anna settled into the bed with a light groan and a frown but she didn't wake up.

She was adorable.

Elsa smiled at her and brought the blankets back up over her before she quietly moved on to select a dress. She chose a light and gorgeous dress similar to what Anna had worn when they had searched for a tradition on that holiday a couple years prior. The dress she chose had splashes of a nice pink along the sleeves and on the torso, narrowly escaping being an eyesore. Elsa combed out her hair and tied it back in a braid again. She wanted to leave it down but thought better of it.

When she was ready for the day, she crept up to Anna and leaned down. She kissed her on the cheek and nuzzled her. "I will see you later, my darling," she whispered in her ear.

Then the day started. It was miserable.

Elsa could not focus one bit.

The whole day and night before was a whirlwind for her and she found herself going over all of it, from the happy parts to the worried parts. She'd decided to stay, and on that she wasn't wavering. How would the other spirits react? Would the Northuldra see it as an insult? In her heart she did feel everyone would understand. It was time for her to depart from Ahtohallan as her home. However the anxious part of her buzzed loudly in her skull.

If only Anna were right there with her, as she signed papers. If only Anna were with her as she went over a trade route with her council. If only Anna were there as she finally sat down to a late breakfast by herself and poked idly at the waffles served to her.

All she had to do was look into her eyes and she knew her decision was solid and true.

But Anna wasn't there, so Elsa sipped her hot tea while hoping her beloved would wake up soon to join her.

Just then she heard the door to the dining room and looked up hopefully. In about half a second she realized the footsteps didn't match at all and she spied Olaf running in to join her. "Oh, good morning Olaf!" she greeted him.

"Hi!" He waved a stick hand and kept going to the table. He pulled himself into a chair right across from Elsa so he could face her. "Where's Anna?" he asked her.

"In bed. She was not feeling too well," Elsa told him, wondering how she felt now.

"Oh! ...Oooh." Olaf frowned. "Sorry. I should have stopped bringing her drinks, but she was having fun," he said, giving Elsa a guilty look.

"She also could have stopped herself from drinking them at any time. Besides, it wasn't just the drinks, it was-"

"-the cheese?" Olaf finished and laughed when Elsa nodded. "Kristoff had to start reminding her not to have wine and cheese because it didn't combine well for her."

"I didn't know that." She really didn't! It alarmed Elsa and puzzled her to realize she didn't know something about her sister. She thought she knew everything. Then again, before she left for the forest, she could imagine Anna didn't really want to be seen when sick off alcohol and cheese.

"It...oh I did it again! Too late now. It embarrassed her so she hid it from everyone until Kai caught her throwing up one morning. Wait." Olaf squinted. "She's in your body, do you get sick from it?"

"Sometimes...if I eat a lot of one and drink a lot of the other," Elsa said and sighed. Either body was going to have trouble with all that she guessed but not knowing still bothered her. "I hope she feels better soon."

Olaf was still studying her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes...?" she lied.

"No you're not. I can tell because you aren't eating at all! What's wrong?" he prodded.

"Uh, well..." Elsa hesitated, but she knew she could trust Olaf. He said a lot of strange things, sometimes too much, but he still didn't share her secrets. "I'm very worried about her. Olaf, something is keeping us from changing back, and I think it's Anna's sadness, but I don't...I don't know how to get to the bottom of that. You felt yesterdays happiness."

Olaf laughed and closed his eyes for a long second. "Yes, I did," he finally answered as he reopened them. "It was wonderful!"

Elsa smiled back at him, glancing down at the tabletop before she continued. "That in mind, I don't understand what's going on. Anna was so happy you could feel it in you. I could feel it. We talked last night and-and stuff." Olaf didn't need to hear the details of their kissing. "I've never felt quite this happy, even when I've ridden Nokk across a quiet frozen ocean. Anna is my world and why I was able to-to grow." Anna was her key to everything.

"I think this is the happiest Anna has ever been, too. I mean I only knew her after you freaked out and made me, but she's even happier than she was for those three years!"

"Those three years..." A small portion of both their lives. "And...after that? Kristoff has already told me some, and Anna did herself last night. I thought she got out what she needed to."

"Did she talk about the cave?" Olaf asked abruptly.

"Huh? Oh, you mean when...well, we did talk about it at one point months ago. I apologized. I felt awful, I still feel awful." Her heart ached for the time Anna had spent in the cave she spoke of. It sounded cold, wet, and terrible. She felt like a monster for what she had put her through...

"But how much did she say?" Olaf tilted his head a little. "Anna was destroyed...I mean I was, um, well I wasn't there. But I still know that."

Elsa nodded slowly. Her stomach hurt and she couldn't even touch her tea. "Yes..."

Olaf just looked at her for a minute. He seemed to be internalizing, trying to make his thoughts into words. "Anna told me a few weeks ago. She wanted to give up in the cave. She still wanted to give up after the forest was free, before she saw you again."

"Give up..." Elsa's blood suddenly felt ice cold.

"I don't know exactly what she meant," Olaf told her with concerned eyes. "Maybe she didn't mean what you think she did. But if you hadn't returned alive, she would never be okay again. I know that."

"But Anna is so strong. She doesn't need me to be able to continue forward with her life." Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true. Anna was indeed strong, she persevered and she pushed on every day! At the same time, Anna's energy was wrapped forever in her own. With their souls brutally ripped apart Anna would have no hope. No future. Though Elsa came back that day she damaged Anna forever.

She wanted to throw up.

"Without you she's been so sad."

"I know," Elsa said as her head spun. She would never leave Anna, but she could never repair what she had done. What if she did hurt her again? She felt like a copy of herself. Elsa was unable to focus on anything, almost unable to breath when a stick hand touched her own.

Olaf waited until she looked up at him. "Hey. You can't change what happened. The past is in the past."

"But it still hurts. It still hurts Anna...I hurt Anna."

"Not anymore?" It was a question and a hopeful one, but so naive it made her even more anxious.

Elsa could only shrug. "I hope not. I don't want to. I want to make sure the rest of her life is beautiful and that she we always feel loved." She wanted to spend all her time giving Anna the dedication she deserved, make up for everything. "I want to beg her forgiveness for all I've put her through..."

"You know she'll give you that." Olaf stated it simply as he gave her a bright look.

"I know." She didn't deserve it. But she would do what she could to earn it. Starting with...oh no! "The fire!"

Olaf jumped and his eye widened. "Fire!? Where? What fire? I'll get the guards!"

"No, no Olaf." Elsa got to her feet quickly. "I meant to start a fire for her in the room and forgot. I know she doesn't feel the cold but it's still peaceful, it's...I forgot! How could I do that," she was annoyed at herself. All that talk of making Anna feel good, and she had forgotten to do that. While she knew Anna would not be bothered about it, she didn't like how she felt about forgetting.

"Oh, oooh go do that!" Olaf said, waving her off. "I'll take care of the dishes!"

"Okay!" Elsa said, smoothing her dress down. "I'm going to- I'm going to do that. And Olaf, thank you," she said honestly. She owed him. "Thank you so much..."

"The fire!"

"Right!" Elsa smiled and rushed off, not even thinking about whatever she had to do next. Take care to put out royal documents she needed delivered, maybe? She'd get to it. For the time being she needed to take care of Anna and see if she could get her talking, see what more she could dig into.

When she arrived at the room she got an unfortunate sight. All of her energy dropped out of her and she sagged in the doorway.

Anna wasn't in bed and the room was empty.

#Frozen 2 #Elsanna #fanfic #elsa #anna #olaf #body swap

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chloe-clegane · 5 years ago

Text

My Devotion and Mah Protection - Chapter 10 Stone Beats Hand, Every Time

Ao3

Prev Chapter

NEW ART by @yonallaart (she’s amazing, go look at all her pretty things)

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Rayla left the apartment with a weight tied around her neck. Twice in one day, he’d raised his voice at her. In the throne room, she’d been angry and defiant, dug her heels in and threw it right back at him. Now she just wanted to curl up in a ball, torn between hiding alone or being in his arms.

She and Callum had a number of screaming matches in their three years together. Usually the fights had something to do with her doing something risky and stupid and him getting mad about it, or vice versa. The fights were infrequent and never lasted long, and even if they didn’t come to an agreement they always held each other and apologized at the end of it. Rayla reminded herself of that as she walked to the dungeons with her arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“We’ve been through worse,” she quietly muttered to herself. “I’ll come tae bed later. He’ll kiss me and It’ll be alright.”

She wasn’t able to put herself at ease, what she did manage was compartmentalizing.

When Rayla quietly slipped into the torchlit room, she decided not to show herself and sunk into the shadows. The hurt and sadness she’d carried on the walk down was soothed by anger. It was a much more tolerable emotion and the strangling weight of misery subsided.

The jailers had given Claudia a change of clothes. A plain grey dress that had seen better days hung from her narrow frame. Rayla was relieved. She didn’t want to be reminded of the twisted version of herself staring back at her. She didn’t want that vile grey skin touching anything that belonged to her.

The relief at seeing the prison garb grew to satisfaction as she gazed upon her handywork. In the last hour or so, Claudia’s left eye had nearly swollen shut, her right cheek had a four-finger welt, and her lips were split with dried blood still smeared at the corners of her mouth. It was extremely gratifying to look at. But the marred face wasn’t enough to quench Rayla’s thirst for vengeance. This bitch had fucked her husband and caused his current condition. Rayla had no idea what to even call the state he was in. Devastated? Sickened? Ashamed? Whatever it’s called, it was bad. Claudia’s punishment was far from over if Rayla had anything to do with it. The pain Rayla had inflicted with the back of a hand was nothing compared to that single moment she thought Callum was unfaithful. Before Claudia turned around, before Rayla assessed the situation farther - it was the longest two seconds of her life and the pain was excruciating. Rayla absentmindedly started rolling her right shoulder and she was reminded that the bulk of her recent pain was the fault of this disgusting woman. Rayla knew Callum would never willingly betray her and she could never be mad at him for what just happened. The tart may have seduced Callum, but he must have figured it out because it looked like he was trying to get her off of him when Rayla found them.

Amaya hadn’t missed Rayla’s entrance and quietly joined her. She signed, “Callum okay?”.

Rayla just shrugged and spoke softly. “Have you gotten anythin’ from her?”

It was the general’s turn to shrug. She signed slowly and simply for Rayla’s benefit. “No. This bitch is crazy.”

Rayla’s understanding of sign language was limited to gestures, the alphabet and all the swear words. Which had always been enough for her and her aunt by marriage to get along just fine.

“Claudia if you think he wanted you then why did you do that creepy moon moth thing?” Soren sounded like he’d been asking different versions of the same question for the last hour.

“You just don’t understand.” she was scowling petulantly.

“Try me.” He crossed his arms and stared at her.

She looked away and stayed quiet.

“Sooooo you’re just a total creep then?” he prodded.

“It’s because he can’t see through her manipulation!” she snapped. “He just needed to make love to me. Then I’ll be able to save him and he’ll realize that I’m the one he’s wanted all along.” Kazi, who stood near the cell interpreting the interrogation, made a face. Claudia continued to speak and they continued to sign. “She was sent to kill his family, why would he love her? She’s clearly using her connection to the moon arcanum.”

“You have noooo idea what you’re talking about.” Soren rolled his eyes. “If he didn’t love her then why would he marry her?”

Claudia groaned in frustration.“She’s controlling him and apparently she’s gotten you too.”

Soren was getting increasingly annoyed. “Claudia, the last time you saw him, you tortured his wife and he almost killed you for it.”

She rolled her eyes at him “That wasn’t his fault, Callum was just confused. You’re all stuck in her web, you can’t see what she really is.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, so let's get this straight, Rayla is using evil moon illusions to trick and control people?” he asked with feigned surprise.

“Ugh Soren don’t mock me, yes. ” she rolled her eyes yet again.

“No no no no. Yoooou thought the best way to fix this was to smoosh a dead bug on yourself and use it’s moon illusion magic to trick Callum into doing what YOU WANT!? ”

She spluttered indignantly “I don’t know why I thought you could wrap your head around this. You’re such an idiot Soren, you won’t ev-.”

“ NO! ” he yelled and Rayla felt a surge of pride. “You can’t see it! You can’t see what’s right in front of your face! Or-or what you’ve done!” he paused and processed for a moment with wide eyes. He didn’t yell, but his voice firm. “You’re fucking crazy Claudia.”

He was finally admitting it to himself, not just to her. She scowled and opened her mouth but Soren didn’t let her get a word in. “You’re the idiot Claudia and I don’t think you even know what love is. Because I’m pretty dark magic-ing someone to love you isn’t real love. Callum and Rayla have real love , it’s beautiful but you’re too bonkers to recognize it. You think you understand, but you don’t, you only know Dad’s kind of love, super fake and toxic and it’s...It’s turned you into a monster!” He cried out in frustration, backed away and ran his fingers through his hair “UGH! I can’t do this! Amaya, you take over.”

He turned and stormed out of the room. His jaw was set and bitter. Claudia called after him to come back but he didn’t turn, he also didn’t see Rayla in the shadows by the door. She contemplated going after him, but figured he could use some time to cool off. Rayla again decided to stay hidden as Amaya and Kazi continued the questioning. They asked about where Aaravos was and tried to get her to elaborate on the power-sucking thing. They didn’t get anything useful, just the pathetic crying and daft musings of a mad woman.

It occured to Rayla that Soren had actually hurt her with his words, that her tears weren’t fake. In different circumstances maybe Rayla could almost feel sorry for her and her pathetic broken mind. But after today, the look on Callum’s face, all she could feel was hatred.

About twenty more minutes went by and Amaya called it quits. The general looked like she wanted to punch the twat almost as much as Rayla did. Kazi who was usually so timid was delivering some serious side eye.

Just as they were about to leave, Rayla stepped into the light and revealed herself. It startled Claudia and she scooted herself away from the bars.

“How shady of you, hiding in the... shade. H-how long have you been here?”

Rayla didn’t respond, she just stared her down and approached the cell. The last time she’d really seen Claudia it was from the ground and she’d cackled over her.

“Whatever you're doing, trying to intimidate me or whatever, it’s not going to work.” She sounded confident but the additional step away betrayed that. “You know he’s going to-”

Rayla spit on her. “You shouldn’t’ve come here. Yer goin’ tae regret doin’ it”. She turned and followed Amaya out of the room. When Rayla slammed the door behind her she let out a noise that was somewhere between a growl and a sign. She leaned her back against the door with her eyes closed and clutched and twisted the leather strap of the bag of horrors.

“Spitting’s always a nice touch,” Kazi translated for Amaya. “Especially when you want to really stick it to someone, right... me”. The translator chuckled awkwardly and spoke for themselves, “Rayla - er - Your Highness? Do I call you that now?”

Rayla groaned. “Please don’t.”

She finally opened her eyes and looked at the pair.

“Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, the Gen-er uh... Amaya is referring to a time she once spat at the feet of Her Late Radiance Khessa.”

Amaya started signing and they went back to translating. “It was funny and stupid. If Janai hadn’t there I probably would have been killed.” Callum’s Aunt was silently chuckling at her own apparently fond memory. For her, that seemed about right.

All Rayla could manage was an exhausted smile “I think I got some in’er eye, so I suppose that’s pretty cool.”

Amaya patted her a bit too hard on the shoulder. “See, that’s the spirit. Some days you have to celebrate the smallest victories.” She winked and then pointed at the bag. “What’s this? Hers?”

“Yeah I found it under the bed, it’s full of dead things and-” Rayla pulled out the book and put it in Kazi’s empty hands, “-this. There has tae be somethin’ useful in there.” The Sunfire scholar smiled, eager to be helpful, but looked horrified when they skimmed the pages.

Rayla let out another involuntary sigh and suddenly she was squeezed into a vice grip hug by her Aunt-in-law. When she pulled away, she signed to Rayla directly and simply. “It’s O-K Rayla, R-E-S-T, go,” she told her.

“We’ll take care of this for you,” Kazi smiled sincerely as they patted the book under their arm.

After a bit more urging, and Kazi’s insistence that they love to study and wouldn’t need her help, she finally thanked them and began ascending the stairs.

She thought about going back to the apartment. She was worried about him. She wanted to see him and hold him and make all these anxious bad feelings go away. Because that’s how things worked. When something was bad, they had each other and everything felt less existentially terrifying. But he wouldn't even look at her. Her arms returned to her chest, crossed tightly as she walked. Rayla had never been good at emotions and knowing how to fix the bad ones. That was Callum’s job, and that had always been okay because they were a team. She slished and slashed, he zapped and flew. She got stubborn and aggressive, he talked about the problems and was diplomatic.

She knew the way back to the apartment, the physical route, but she was lost in a different way. Her heart’s compass that usually pointed reliably was broken. So when she came to an intersection in the long castle hallways, she just stood there. She looked down the hallway in front of her, looked back to where she’d come, and then to the left. She’d gone so long without having a real home, she wasn’t ghosted anymore but the Silvergrove still hadn’t felt like right since. That kind of rejection was hard to handle. Rayla didn’t feel ready to go to the apartment, to go home, so she took the turn and attempted to bite down all of the shite feelings in her heart.

It was a quick walk before Rayla knocked on Soren’s door, she heard shuffling, the muffled sound of a blown nose and finally the door swung open.

Ralya was taken aback by the sight of him: his eyes were red like he’d been crying, he looked miserable and she noticed blood on his knuckles that held the door.

“Heeeeey, what’s up?” he said in a way that somewhat resembled cheerful and well-adjusted.

“Soren, uh, yer hands bleedin’,” she pointed out cautiously.

He looked at it like he’d just now noticed, “Oh… uuuhhh yeah… oops”.

She pushed past him into the room and he closed the door behind her. “Takin’ yer anger out on walls now, I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeeaah, I didn’t really think ahead that it was gonna hurt this bad.”

“You do know these walls are made of stone right? Stone beats hand, every time.”

“Psh... I know what walls are…” He defended, then quieted. It made Rayla feel guilty.

She gave an apologetic smile. “Hey, how about I wrap that up fer you?”

He nodded and retrieved a small first aid kit from a cupboard. It was a picked over mess but she found what she needed.

They sat in silence for a while, while she cleaned the cut and bruising knuckles.

“Nothin’ looks broken but the skin, that’s good,” she forced a smile at him and he gave a sad one in return. “I can not believe I’m askin’ this, but do you wan’tae talk about why you hit the wall?” She tied off the bandage.

“What? Noooo. I’m fine, I just wanted to test the walls…. For security…” He was incredibly unconvincing.

“Are ye sure it isn't because yer crazy sister broke into the castle and fucked up everyone’s day-?” Her voice was full of sarcastic cheer. You know, that bitch who fucked my husband, she thought to herself.

“Maybe…” his lip quivered and then he burst into a heaving sob. Rayla immediately panicked, the cloth in her hand already damp and bloody. She frantically started looking around the room for a handkerchief. First she picked up an oilcloth for his sword, no. Then a rag that was crusty and rigid, she tried not to yelp and instead screamed internally. Next she found a slightly dirty napkin, it smelled like bacon. That’ll do. She turned back and he was still crying.

“There ya go.”

He blew his nose loudly and she patted his back awkwardly. She had not expected or prepared for this level of blubbering.

“There, there,” she sighed.

He cried for a bit before calming himself down enough to speak. Soren breathed in deeply before beginning again, “S-she’s my little sister an-and you know, I didn’t like her at first,” he sniffled, “I actually told our Mom to give her back to the baby wife lady,” another sniffle. Rayla wondered if he was quoting his younger self or if he still didn’t know what a midwife was. “And then one day, she laughed or something and it was really cute and I liked hugging her and I thought she was pretty neat and then she got big enough to share her snacks with me and it was really cool and I realized it was nice to share my snacks with her and we played together everyday but then one time I put her on the seesaw, right, and I jumped on the other side and she went flying and she was crying and I think she scraped her knees or something and I think I just wanted to see what would happen or I guess how far she’d go, and Rayla it was a bad thing for me to do but it didn’t mean I don’t love her!” The last part came out with a fresh sob.

She knew the confusing rant was going in a direction. But Rayla couldn’t help picturing a dark haired toddler going flying across a playground. Soren and her would have made great playmates growing up, she would have willingly been catapulted.

“Uh, Soren, I’m not sure-”

“Don’t you get it Rayla!? The seesaw’s a metaphor!” he interrupted her and tried to take a controlled breath.

“Yeah... I think I get it,” she said delicately.

“My Dad was really mad at me, I remember him screaming and I kind of deserved it. Claudia was crying and I don’t think she’s ever been on a seesaw since. But after that, my mom sat with me in her lap and she told me that it’s my job to protect her, I should never do something that would make her get hurt like that, ever again. She said loving my sister is one of the most important things I’ll ever do, and to do it my whole life.” He wiped his eyes again and took a long deep breath. “When our Mom left us, she said it again. That Claudia will always be a special person for my life and that I always need to love her and keep her safe.” He kept taking purposeful breaths but then the sobs broke through again. “How did I let this happen to her? She wouldn’t be like this if I took better care of her?”

That pissed Rayla off. He should look out for his sister but this, she’d chosen the path of dark magic all on her own. She’s made choices to do terrible things. Rayla reminded herself Soren is her friend and mustered her sympathy with a big sigh “Oh Soren, None of this is yer fault.”

“That night before the battle at the storm spire, she begged me to stay with her but I walked away” he cried, snot coming down from his nose. He was clutching the napkin but failed to use it.

“And that was a good thing!” Rayla insisted.

“I know, I had to get away from my dad and I needed to leave so I could help you guys,” he steadied his breath again.

“Yes! ” she agreed, trying not to sound annoyed.

“She wanted me to stay but what if I tried harder to convince her , or I could-I could’ve made her come,” he was starting to ramble and she could see his mind racing.

“No, you-” Rayla tried to interject.

“Oh, you know what? I should’ve picked her up and carried her, I’m bigger and stronger and I totally could’ve done it,” what would usually be his excited idea sound was a hiccupping sob.

Rayla couldn’t listen to his guilty bullshit. She grabbed his shoulders, and shook him firmly, “Soren! Should’a would’a whatever! Stop!”

Her words made him freeze. Then she surprised herself when she hugged him. He just sat there a moment before hugging her back. Rayla figured the big fella could use a good hug. When they pulled apart she stayed gripping his shoulders. He wiped his boogers and tears with his sleeve, forgetting his napkin, and listened to her.

“You can’t keep beatin’ yerself up. Families are... complicated, and yers... Yers is toxic. You survived it and got away.” she shook him softly for emphasis. “You would’ve ended up like Kasef, a monster, a dead monster.”

Rayla let go of his shoulders and sat down on the floor in front of him. “You can’t feel guilty fer survivin’” she hugged her knees. “I know what that’s like, feelin’ like you let everyone down, knowin’ people lost their lives…” she sighed. “It made me wish I had died too,” she took a moment to check her emotions. “I let that guilt weigh me down... I guess it still does and it probably always will. I suppose I’ve learned tae carry it now. You have tae tell yerself that what you did was fer the best. You think you could’ve kidnapped yer sister but… It’s not that simple. You couldn’t control Claudia.”

She tried to keep the salt out of her tone when she said the name and paused, her own sad memories surfaced in her mind. A few silent moments passed between them before she spoke again, “I couldn’t control Runnan…” She stopped to take a deep breath and collected her thoughts. “Yer a good person Soren, and you didn’ deserve tae have a shite piece of garbage fer a dad… and neither did-” the anger simmered in the pit of her stomach, “neither did Claudia… back then.”

“But she does now,” he spoke it so sadly and Rayla was caught off guard. The ugly tears had ceased but replaced with a deep sorrow, “The worst part is I don’t think I can save her now. She’ll always go back to him. I listen to her talk and most of it doesn’t even make sense, she’ll go from nice to mean and talk like she loves me and then...”

She wanted to agree, she did agree, Claudia was too far gone, she was terrible. Rayla wanted to dress her up as a glow toad and toss her in the ocean. But Soren looked so sad.

“Soren, I’m sorry you-you don’...” she didn’t know what to say.

They sat quietly again, Soren let out a heavy sigh and asked, “How’s Callum?”

Now it was her turn to sigh. “Honestly? I don’ know.... He-he’s really upset and he told me tae leave him alone...” she pulled her knees in even tighter. “It’s weird… fer him tae do that”.

Soren looked broken-hearted. “Yeah, he looked really bad when I left. But maybe he does just need to be alone for a bit. You guys are so in love and always so really strong for each other. I think it’ll be ok, probably not today but still.”

Rayla just smiled half heartedly and stayed in her little ball.

“What Claudia’s done… I don’t-” he said, trying to put his words together. “Her mind is broken and I used to think that maybe if I could get rid of Viren for good... Then maybe I could unbreak her brain.” He twisted the napkin in his hand.

“But you don’ think so anymore.'' It wasn’t a question.

He stopped again for a breath and nodded. “She’s done a lot of gross things, dark magic stuff and she’s killed people but… doing this to Callum… I’m disgusted by her,” he sounded bitter.

Rayla was baffled. She wasn’t arguing that Claudia was the lowest form of human trash but this being the rock bottom for her… murderer seemed a little worse than being a traumatizing seductive creep. No matter what Rayla hated her and felt both were on the list of worst things Claudia's ever done.

He sighed yet again. “I have something for you, I don’t know if you want them or what I should do but… here,” he handed her a small folded bundle of fabric, her clothing.

She was repulsed as soon as she touched them, Rayla felt like she could feel the pollution clinging to the silk. Claudia had worn these and used them to… she’d worn them on her disgusting grey body and she… Rayla wanted it gone, away from her, destroyed. Without saying a word she went to Soren’s hearth and pulled a few small logs and kindling off the wood rack. She struck the flint and steel.

She touched him. Strike. She tricked him. Strike. She fucked him. Strike. She wanted to take him away from her. The kindling caught.

“Rayla, It’s July and I have to sleep in here,” he whined. She ignored him and he must have realized what she was doing because he didn’t say anything more, just quietly opened his windows.

As soon as the flame came to life Rayla grabbed the nightgown and without hesitation threw it into the flame. The fire consumed the delicate fabric in an instant and the heat washed over her face. When she reached for the stockings the teal ribbon caught her attention and she froze. She ran her fingers along the embroidery. The stockings were one of her favorite things, tied to so many wonderful memories.

They’d laid together and the stockings were the only pieces of clothing still on between the two of them. Rayla’d worn them a few nights in a row, the way he reacted to her was nice. It was obvious wearing them made him happy, and she wanted him to be happy. She loved the way he looked at her. Looking back now, she thought about his eyes at their wedding, it was those looks and the way he touched her that always filled her with joy. She and Callum were intertwined and he had started stroking her leg absentmindedly. Running his finger along the garter ribbon.

“I told you I like the sexy socks,” she had teased him. “I know you want them fer yerself but they’re mine. No take-backs.”

He’d laughed and smiled. “But they might look good on me and they’re soooo soft. ” He made a point of very purposefully stroking her leg “Buuuut,” he’d squeezed her thigh and kissed her, “I like touching them on you way more than I ever could on myself.”

“Well touchin’ yer’self is never as good as when I do it,” she smirked.

“True true” he laughed, kissing her, “Very true,” a blush spread on his cheeks. “I’m really glad you like them,” he’d said softly.

She loved it when he was bashful. After all their time together, every so often, he got nervous when he was being cheesy or romantic.

“They’re the best engagement present I’ve ever had,” she’d said confidently.

He looked puzzled. “I’m pretty sure that was your only engagement present.”

“Still counts as the best though,” she’d booped his nose and they both giggled and kissed before he’d brought them back again to sincerity.

“I sorta worried it was a selfish gift. I just pictured you wearing them and uh...”

“And so it was yer pecker that picked the present then? Yes Callum, that does seem a wee bit selfish,” she teased.

“That was very good alliteration and a very fair accusation but I just thought you would feel pretty. I just, I think you only really care about being pretty when you’re with me.”

“Pshhh it’s not just you,” she’d said, slightly offended.

“Yeah you aren’t a slob.” That statement hadn’t helped him much. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re delicate and vulnerable with me in a way you aren’t with anyone else.”

He’d been right. She reflected and it was true, she was vulnerable with him, she sought his affection and attention.

“I thought it would be something that would make you feel pretty when it’s just the two of us. Is that stupid?” he’d asked her.

She’d laughed in reply. “Maybe a little. But I love you anyways.”

“That’s a huge relief, I was going to be really embarrassed if it turned out you didn’t love me anymore,” he’d sighed.

He’d kissed her and rolled on top of her. “I want you to laugh like this everyday Rayla,” he had said it so sincerely it took her off guard.

She’d tried to say something sarcastic, deflect, but she’d just sputtered and smiled, “Wha-pshhh.”

His smile had stayed sweet and sincere, he’d enjoyed her fluster. Then he’d kissed his way down her body rubbing her thighs stroking her silk bound legs before lavishing her with his tongue.

His touch was as silky as the delicate garter ribbon she held in her hand. He made her feel beautiful and the stockings, they made her feel like a flower, soft and pretty. They were precious to her. She hugged the stockings to her chest and sadness melted onto her from above and sunk into her bones.

She took a deep shaky breath. She didn’t want to cry. She refused. Things would go back to normal eventually, she told herself. Tomorrow, the nerves would subside and they’d both apologize, kiss and hold each other and their world would be set right. Rayla looked down at the stockings, she knew she’ll never wear them again and that alone broke her heart. Despite that, she still couldn’t give them up. So she set them aside sadly and separated the logs with the poker.

“Are you ready to talk about your feelings now?” Soren asked from behind her.

“I don’ know what tae do with them… they’re special,'' her voice was small and mournful. She looked back at him and he nodded sympathetically before pouring two drinks from a bottle on his shelf.

“I think we could both use the edges cut off of our problems today,” he tried to rally.

“Sure, why not?” she said dryly. Still sitting on the floor she raised her arm and he placed the cup in her hand. She took a sip and sighed. She didn’t really care for red wine but he was right, a drink sounded great and she wasn’t going to be picky.

Soren leaned against the mantle and chugged his entire cup of wine in three gulps. Rayla was dumbfounded, “Whoah uhh… you okay big lump? That’s a lot of edge yer trimin’ there,” she chuckled awkwardly.

“Oh yeah I’m totally fine, just super thirsty.” He waved her off before pouring another drink. He sipped slowly this time.

She couldn’t help the side eye she gave. “Sooo uh, tough day all around I suppose.”

“You got that right,” he agreed and slumped into his small sofa. He stared into his cup.

Rayla broke the silence, “I don’ know. I have no idea what tae think right now…. Not at all.”

Soren spoke confidently, “I may not be the smartest but I know one big giant fact.”

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “And that is?”

“He loves you,” Soren smiled at her, “and nothing my sister does will ever change that. What she did today was terrible and I think he’s probably really confused. But I think he needs you and for sure loves you.”

“Stop makin’ so much sense lump, I find it annoying,” she glared with a small smile before taking another sip.

“Hey, pluuuus you’re cooler than zap hands remember? If anyone can figure all this out, it’s you,” he wiggled zap fingers in her direction.

“Yer so lame…” she rolled her eye but added “but yer also correct, I’m very cool.”

“So cool!” Soren chuckled.

After that, Rayla had food brought up and they had another drink. Soren got out the dice and they tried to distract themselves and have a laugh. It worked for a while, but their usual suspenseful gambling was half-hearted at best, and inevitably one of them would end up sighing and sadly drifting into space until the other knocked them back to reality. Eventually, they abandoned the game and said goodnight. Rayla heard him pour another drink as she closed the door behind her.

The weight had restrung itself around her neck. It pulled at her the whole walk home.

Rayla opened the apartment door. It was dark and Callum was already asleep. She wanted to wake him, but based off of their interaction earlier she thought better of it. Resigning to her pining, she went to the wardrobe for a nightdress and to put away the stockings.

When she opened the drawer, Rayla found it had been ransacked; everything was unfolded and mixed up. The other drawers and cabinet were more of the same. The bile burned and bubbled up into her throat again. Her skin crawled. Her things were contaminated, she felt contaminated. It hadn’t just been the nightgown or the stockings. Mere hours ago, Claudia’s hands had been on even more of Rayla’s things. It was clear she had rifled around with a purpose. With the goal of fucking her husband. Rayla looked around the room, Claudia had been in their apartment and their bed. She’s fucked him in their bed. There was an urge to burn it, send it all up in flames like she’d done with the nightgown. Because that's what fire did, what the arcanum was all about. Purification. But arson was, if nothing else, impractical.

She shoved the stockings to the back and grabbed a linen shift from the top of the pile. Rayla narrowly resisted the urge to slam the drawer shut. She didn’t want to wake Callum. She settled on dropping the red and gold dress she’d been wearing on the floor and kicking it. She scowled at the unsatisfying distance it tumbled. Rayla pulled the shift over her head as she walked to the mirror and when her head passed through the neck, she saw how tired she looked. Her hair was still pinned into a partial updo but she’d nervously fiddled and ruined it. She sighed and removed the remaining pins and then reached for her hairbrush. She froze with it halfway to her head. A partially black hair was stuck in the bristles. She glanced at the sleeping lump in the bed and pushed a forceful exhale through her nostrils, part of an internal scream. She went back to the dress on the floor and kicked it again, and wondered what the sick bitch hadn’t touched.

Rayla was repulsed, nauseated, and furious. She hated this feeling of violation. Her most personal things had been defiled and used against her. A breeze came through the open doors. She crossed her arms and wished it could blow away the unsettling discomfort. Then she turned and looked at Callum… really looked at him.

He had cried himself to sleep. His usually peaceful face was sad and the pillow was still wet. Claudia had done this to him, made him cry.

Then the room fell away and a frenzy of thoughts cycloned around her.

When she entered the apartment, he’d been crying. He’d been crying out for her to stop.

Rayla’s stomach dropped.

Soren words rung in her ear. “She’s killed people but… doing this to Callum… I’m disgusted by her.”

She could feel acid bubble into her throat.

This wasn’t adultery, this was something else. This was… Soren knew, why hadn’t she?

How had she been so stupid? How had she not understood? Would he still have sent her away if she hadn’t been so dense?

She felt tears start to roll down her cheeks as she looked down at his sad sleeping face, she now had tears to match his.

He wouldn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at her. Because she, Claudia, had looked like her.

That was why he’d sent her away.

She covered her mouth to silence the sobs. She felt a burn in her right shoulder.

She hadn’t just worn Rayla’s clothes, Claudia wore her face. It wasn’t just her belongings that had been violated, it was him, he had been violated.

The cyclone was closing in on her, Rayla was going to drown in it. In all of this.

She rushed to escape the room, and closed the balcony door behind her just in time for the heaving sobs to break. Her stomach was turning and she thought she would be sick.

From the moment she saw them, she pulled off that illusion, Rayla has been angry. It was reliable for her. Made her feel strong, made her protective of him. Let her take care of him. But that was a lie, she hadn’t protected him, she read it wrong or missed the point and that was the reason and she hadn’t taken better care of him. Like she should have. She wasn’t even sure what she should have done differently but she knew it should have been more or better.

She clutched her shoulder with one hand and the railing with the other. The cyclone of sadness, rage, and disgust were growing into a hurricane. She hated Claudia and that hate burned in her. She hated herself for not taking better care of him. She rolled her shoulder.

Rayla had left behind her life as an assassin long ago. Killing in battle was one thing, but she never wanted to take lives in cold blood. But this… this was provoked and boiled her blood. She realized she could do it now, she could take her blades and go to the dungeons, go to Claudia's cell. She could slit her throat. She could cut her neck to the bone if she wanted to. Rayla sobbed.

She felt the phantom pain in her healed shoulder. It was like the tendons were being ripped all over again. Snapping one by one. On the cool stones of the balcony, she was reliving the worst pain she had ever known. The pain Claudia had inflicted the day she held Rayla to the ground and contorted her limbs with dark magic. If Callum hadn’t stopped her, Claudia would have ripped Rayla’s arm off completely. But now it wasn’t her arm that would be severed, it was the beating heart from her chest. She wondered if it would make the same sound leaving her rib cage as her arm had from the joint. POP, ringing in her ear. Rayla kept trying to breathe while she let herself cry.

After what felt like hours she got up and went to bed. She kissed Callum on the forehead gently, she wondered if he heard her crying. She curled up with her pillow to her chest on her cold empty side of the bed. She wiped away a few silent tears as she fell asleep. They hadn’t slept apart, without holding each other, since… she couldn’t remember.

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