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johnwickb1tsch · 26 days

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THE DEVILS' TRIANGLE

A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine) Imagine Part 8 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and @tammykelly (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘)

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

ALL CHAPTERS

PART 8

Johnwickb1tsch:

"Come on, we've got to get you somewhere safe," says John Wick, trying to hustle you down the street.

"No," you protest, resisting. "We have to find John and Tex. They might need us."

You were skeptical about demons and the occult, God and the Devil and everything in between, at first. But after hanging out with Constantine, you'd seen a few things. Just enough that you had sense enough to be scared. You clutch the protection amulet around your neck that John had given you. You'd laughed at him at the time, but now you were glad to have it.

"They're both grown men, honey. I told Tex to leave you alone. This is what he gets."

Suddenly you're angry all over again. "Oh, you told him, huh?" You push John's chest--its like having a disagreement with a brick wall. "Do you have any fucking idea how much I've missed you? How it destroyed me to be thrown away like an old shirt you had no more use for?"

He is still as a mountain as he holds your wrists, preventing you from striking him, but not hurting you. Those dark eyes bore into you, through you. How does he not see you? "Y/n...I did what I thought was best for you."

"But you didn't fucking ask me! Or at least, you didn't listen! But you know what, it doesn't matter right now. John had to put some kind of a curse on Tex in self defense, because Tex is such an asshole, and now they're both in danger!"

"A what?"

You pause to think, and you're pretty sure you know where Constantine would go. There's an old church a few blocks over. Consecrated ground. It's where he's always told you to go if something came after you. It would be a good place to regroup.

"Come on," you say, pulling John in the opposite direction down the street.

For once, he actually listens, a shadow at your back ready to protect you, but he lets you lead the way.

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

The old building looks like it should probably be condemned. It's definitely seen better days, and hasn't seen a congregation in at least a decade. However, the ground is still holy, untouchable for the Unclean, and when you burst through the doors after John has already shot down three demons, you are so relieved to see Constantine and Tex sitting in some of the old pews. They definitely look like they've been through a battle, disheveled and beat up. You wonder how much was demons, and how much they did to each other.

"Thank God!" You run to them, and Tex's expression rises and falls as you go to Constantine, pressing your mouth to his in what you know is a needy kiss, assuring yourself as much as him.

He smirks down at you, well aware of the death- stares he's receiving from both sides. It's possible he makes a show of grabbing your ass, just to rub it in to your two Ghosts.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah. You?"

You nod. Then Constantine rolls his eyes upward, over your head to John Wick. He is quietly forbidding in his black suit, standing watch by the door. "That your other Ghost?"

With a tired sigh you nod.

"Ghosts? The fuck is Harry Potter here talkin' about?"

The urge to punch Tex or kiss him is strong as ever.

"The two of you ghosted me, didn't you?"

"Baby girl, I missed you. That's why I came to get you." He shoots a telling glare over at John Wick, who only returns a disinterested look. Maybe the master assassin had been keeping tabs on you, but he hadn't shared everything with Tex, it seems.

Constantine looks between the two assassins, then you, with an infuriating smirk.

"What?" you demand, more than a little exasperated with everthing.

"Nothing. Just seems like you have a type, angel."

You can't even argue.

"Angel?" Tex snorts at your pet name. "Does he even know you?"

"Does he ever shut up?" asks Constantine, raising one dark eyebrow.

"No, never," you sigh.

There is a howl outside that lifts every hair on your body, an unearthly sound that makes your fingers grip in Constantine's suit jacket.

"What are we going to do?"

"Good question." Constantine tugs you over to a different pew, sitting down with his arm draped around your shoulders. His message is obvious, and it's new to you. Constantine rocks your world on the nightly, but he's never been possessive before. It really shouldn't, but it ignites a warmth in your chest that makes you feel ridiculously, stupidly, giddy inside.

"Seems like we're at an impasse, gentlemen."

Tex frowns. John seems less than impressed.

"Sorry, what's stopping us from killing you and taking her?"

You tense, watching the gun John holds loosely at his side. You know Wick can move like lightning, and your heart leaps into your throat. You are ready to fling yourself between them if you have to.

"John..."

"It's ok, sweetheart. He's not going to kill me."

"No offense, but I've heard that before from lots of people who are dead now."

Constantine snorts. "You can't kill me, because I've put a curse on your friend here, and you need me to lift it."

"So lift it."

"Can't. Got a friend who can though. You'll never see him without me."

You know Constantine must be talking about the famed and powerful bokor, Papa Midnite. A chill runs down your spine. You've met him precisely once. He was polite--and hot as fuck, if you're being honest--but you knew he was not to be trifled with.

"So let's go, then," says Tex, his patience lost about three dead demons ago.

"Hold up, Howdy Doody. We got to talk first."

"Bout?"

Constantine nods down at you. "Maybe I don't know all the details, but I've heard enough. And as much as I've enjoyed filling the hole you assholes left--I can't let you hurt her again. I'll let the demons feast on your souls first."

Almost on cue, that demonic howling sounds again outside, and a chorus of hellish hissing rises. It sounds like you are surrounded.

Tex leaps to his feet. "You smug little fucker--"

"Shut up, Tex." It's Wick who shushes his friend. "What do you propose?"

Finally, Constantine looks down at you. "It depends on what she wants."

Your mouth drops open at that. You have to decide that, now? As though he can read your thoughts, and sometimes you're convinced he can, Constantine pays you an infuriating smirk.

"I...don't want them dead. Or...devoured."

"That's a start, I guess. Do you ever want to be with them again?"

Your eyes go wide as saucers. The simple answer, of course, is yes. You love them. You miss them.

However, answers are never so simple, with your Boys involved. Like an idiot, you dare to look at them, taking in Tex's hang-dog puppy-eyed look, and John's quiet but intense yearning. Then, of course, there is the man beside you, who despite his aloofness and his prickly manner, has been nothing but good to you.

You've never said it out loud, but the truth is, you love him too.

"I don't know."

"Yeah. I figured." He smirks at you, inexplicably smug, and you kind of want to smack him too.

Which always leads to interesting things, with John Constantine, your stupid lady parts sing out. Jesus Christ on a cracker, what a fucking mess.

"You got a point, Gandalf?" demands Tex, paying a nervous look to one of the cracked stained glass windows. Ominous dark shapes are flying past outside. This is not good.

"I want you assholes to accept a Spell of Submission to her."

"The fuck does that mean?" demands Tex with a thunderous frown. John remains neutral as he listens.

"It means, if you ever try to make her do something she really doesn't want to do, again, she can say the magic words to fuck up your world. Pardner."

"No fuckin' way," Tex scoffs.

At the same time, John answers, "I'll do it."

Your eyes meet across the aisle of the church. That he would take such a leap of faith-- for you-- drops the floor out from under you.

Tex, of course, interrupts your moment of soul- searching eye contact with John.

"Wait, so we could be havin' an argument and she can drop me dead with the evil eye or somethin'?"

Constantine snorts. "It would probably serve you right, Hee Haw, but no. Cause you extreme pain? Yes. But it comes at a price. All magic does. I know she wouldn't use it lightly."

It would potentially even the playing field quite a bit between you three. The balance of power amongst you had never been fair.

"What's a matter, Tex? You don't trust me?"

"Only as far a I could throw you, darlin'." But his hawk-like look softens for you after a moment, and then surprisingly he grins. "Got me over a barrel now, don't you?"

You shift a little in your seat, so that you're flush against Constantine. The solid line of his lithe warmth beside you is anchoring. You glance up at him, finding he looks arrogantly amused-- and surprisingly, a little sad. If you didn't know him so well you would have missed it, like ripples in a pool.

You turn back to Tex, an uneasy excitement thrumming in your chest.

"If the curse fits?"

The cowboy sighs, frowning at the hellspawn waiting to rend his flesh and eat his soul outside. "Alright, fine. Guess you might as well take it all." He can't look at you while he says it, but you sense his surrender-- or at least, his resignation. It's not exactly a victory, but it's something, and it pulls at your heartstrings.

"Alright, wizard boy. Hoodoo me up."

Constantine snorts, leaping up from the bench. "First we've got to get out of here. You're going to want to cover your eyes." He starts muttering an encantation and walking in a circle, sprinkling a powder on the ground from his pocket. "When this goes off we'll have ten minutes. Either of you assholes have a car nearby?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Hope you like to drive fast."

His chanting gets louder, and you see he's produced a lighter. He never uses it for cigarettes anymore, but portable fire to a magician has its uses. You can tell he's reaching the crescendo of his spell, and you scrunch your eyes closed. Even through your eyelids you see the flash, and the boom of a magical fireball that should have burned you all to dust.

However, only the things outside incinerate, their agonized cries echoing through the cavernous stone building.

"Let's move."

****

As it turns out, John Wick can drive very fast.

You already knew this, of course. Constantine, however, seems to be regretting his life choices as Wick weaves in and out of traffic, trying to find a hand hold as you are whipped around in the cramped back seat of the vintage Chevelle. He clenches his square jaw and glares daggers as Wick makes a quick left juke, the force of it pushing Constantine into the side of the car furthest from you.

You think it's a coincidence, until you meet John Wick's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and you see a glimmer of amusement. On anyone else, it would be all-out gut-busting laughter. You open your mouth to tell him to play nice, but Tex interrupts you—just like old times.

"3 o'clock," barks the cowboy assassin from the shotgun seat. It's fitting, because he quite literally has a sawed-off shotgun in his lap, something from Constantine's cabinet of goodies with arcane symbols scratched into the barrel. Tex and Constantine fought over this seat like it was worth a million dollars, and only the interruption of the literal Hell’s Angels roaring up on you on motorcycles re-focused their attention.

They’ve been trying to run you down for blocks like wolves on a caribou, and with a whip of Wick's wrist on the steering wheel, now you’re being pursued by one less. It over-corrects and crashes into a concrete barrier. Constantine laughs under his breath at the thing’s demise.

However, there are still three more to contend with.

“The club is just ahead,” directs Constantine. “Good luck finding parking.”

“Hold on.”

There's nothing to fucking hold on to in the bare bones back seat—except for Constantine, so that's what you do. He holds your hand with a white knuckled grip that betrays his nerves far more than his expression does

John tricks the motorcycle-riding demons by suddenly slowing down, then gunning the engine, running one over with a sudden burst of speed, then smacking the other two like a pinball flipper with a sudden shift and drift turn.

The car is totally fucked, but so are the hellspawn, so it feels like a win.

When one of them tries to stagger from the wreckage towards you Tex shoots it from out the window. The sound is deafening—and the ball of fire from the barrel of the gun makes you all jump.

“What the fuck is that, John?” you demand.

“Dragon's breath,” he answers you with a little smirk. “Nice work, Hee Haw. You should hunt demons instead of people.”

“What's the pay?”

“Absolute shit with possible stock options in Heaven.”

“No thank you then.”

The four of you pile out of the car and hustle towards the doors of Midnite's.

“This place is supposed to be neutral ground,” says Constantine, “but it's going to be full of demonic half-breeds, so walk fast and stick close.”

Tex turns to you with an incredulous frown. “Baby, I seriously gotta question your taste. Where did you find this wizard boy?”

Constantine looks at you with a smirk, no doubt thinking about your first animalistic tryst in that alleyway by the bar, and how he’d made you cum on his dick with your back chaffed by the hard bricks behind you, your legs wrapped desperately around his slender waist while he pounded inside your needy little cunt.

It had been glorious.

Just the memory of it floods you with a searing heat from your loins to regrettably, your cheeks.

Constantine loves it when he manages to make you blush, and a wicked gleam sparkles in his jetty dark irises.

“Shall I tell him, dear?”

You can tell that Tex’s head is about to explode.

“Not while he’s holding a fire-breathing shotgun, honey.”

Constantine has never really used lovey pet names with you before. It’s almost the weirdest thing that’s happened today.

As you push through the doors of the club it’s almost like entering another dimension, the red lights and bass thump of hedonistic music beyond, the steps down down down like a descent into a nether realm. The bouncer holds up his tarot card, the entrance exam, that Constantine passes like a breeze. “Rat in a dress.”

Bouncer turns to Wick and Tex with a new card, who look at Constantine with almost comical consternation. “They’re with me.”

“Still gotta pass.”

A beat later Constantine punches the burly bouncer out, shaking the sting off his hand. “Sorry,” he says to the unconscious man on the ground. To the rest of you, “Shit. Move fast.”

He bursts through the doors to the main club, striding with purpose on those beautiful long legs. You always feel too cool for school, when you’re on a magical side-quest with John. His broad shoulders part the crowd around you all, and when you’re with Constantine, everyone is looking at you. Half-breed angels, demons, and who knows what in between. Their eyes glow eerily in the low crimson light of the club.

Neither Wick nor Tex betray any fear or surprise at descending into this eldritch side of the City of Angels, intimidating towers at your back, glowering at anyone who looks your way.

Maybe it’s stupid, but in this moment you feel pretty fucking invincible.

It’s definitely stupid, because the creatures on Team Lucifer start to take an acute interest in Tex, their eyes glowing. Even you can feel them pressing closer around you. Constantine is standing at the tufted leather wall, what you know is an illusion hiding a door.

A tall, unfairly hot half-breed saunters into Tex’s personal space, reaching up to touch his cheek with a sultry come-hither smile. Succubus, is your guess, though the possibilities are literally endless. For a moment Tex seems utterly entranced, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. “Sorry, he’s taken,” you say, pulling Tex back with your fingers in his tooled belt to sandwich him between you and Constantine.

Are they going to open the door for you or what? Any time now would be excellent…

Suddenly the half-breed seems a foot taller, looming over you with glowing red eyes. With your heart in your throat you hold up your amulet between you, and though she doesn’t exactly flinch and hiss like you’d hoped, you can tell she doesn’t care for it, her fine features twisting in a sneer like she tasted something nasty.

“Fine,” pouts the demoness. “Change your mind, handsome, you know where to find me.” She punctuates the offer with a flash of razor-sharp teeth before she saunters off with extra swing in her hips.

Tex makes a small sound of pain behind you as he watches her go, and you know he can’t help it. Desire is the Succubus’s power, and she was clearly hunting tonight. It doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes though, turning to catch John Wick’s gaze. You can tell he’s keeping watch on the room, but he’s also got his eyes on you; that weighty, yearning look that never fails to tie your heart—and your lady parts—up in knots. A wholly inconvenient throb of lust between your legs makes you shift where you stand; suddenly you are soaked, so aware of the solid warmth of Tex at your back, and John towering before you.

Just like old times.

A part of you wants to reach for him, location be damned, an ingrained urge that would be a terrible idea at this time in this place, because if you touch him you’ll have to kiss him and who knows where that will end.

Jesus, was the succubus’s energy affecting you too? Or is it just…them?

There is a heady weight in the air, like something malevolent is about to descend upon you all. With your heart in your throat you clutch at the talisman around your neck, and though you’re not really sure which deity you’re entreating for salvation, you pray.

At last the door swings open, and Constantine finds your elbow, tugging you none too gently with him inside Papa Midnite’s inner sanctum. Naturally, where you go, the boys follow close behind.

“John Constantine,” says Papa Midnite in his melodic baritone. “Been some time. I see you’ve brought friends.”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” snarks Constantine with a baleful look at the two assassins at your back. “But I need your help.”

“The Great John Constantine needs my help?” mocks Papa. “Must be sometin’ bad.”

You’re not proud of the panic that rises in your throat at the sound of Midnite’s reluctance to help you. You know that pretty much everyone in the supernatural world has been pissed off at Constantine for some reason or another, but you pray this man can rise above his grudge. If not…Tex is fucked, and maybe it’s stupid after everything he did to you, but just the thought leaves a hollow ringing inside your heart.

You dare to peek around from Constantine’s imposing form. “Please, Papa?” you entreat, your eyes wide. You have met once before, and on that occasion the powerful witch doctor seemed to like you, though he didn’t cease to deride what a girl like you could possibly be doing with the likes of John Constantine. “We really need your help.”

Papa Midnite tilts his fedora-topped head to regard you with curiosity. He is wearing one of his delightfully loud shirts with a fur collared jacket. A gold necklace gleams against the dark skin of his throat. “Who needs my help, little girl? You, or him?” He points at Constantine with the jut of his chin.

“I do,” you both answer at the same time. You realize Constantine doesn’t want you to owe the powerful Bokor a favor—but you’re reading the room, and you’re pretty sure if the magic is for Constantine, Midnite is going to tell you all to pound rocks.

Midnite, understanding all of this, sits back in his throne of a chair with a little chuckle, drumming gold-bedecked fingers on the carved wooden arm.

“What is it you need?”

“A curse lifted,” answers Constantine. “And a spell cast.”

Midnite whistles at hearing that, and only then does his attention turn to the assassin at your back. “I can sense the dark mark from here,” says the witch doctor. “Let me see.”

With a grumble Tex pulls at his collar, pearl snap buttons popping to reveal the blackened circular pentacle, its 8 radii tipped with symbols, embedded beneath his skin. At the sight of it Midnite smirks, his eyebrows lifting high.

“Set thou a wicked one to be ruler over him, and let Satan stand at his right hand,” cites Midnite. “That a powerful curse t’set on someone, Constantine.”

“It was a heat of the moment thing,” grumbles the demon hunter.

“I can tell. Takes some big feeling, to conjure a curse like dis from thin air.”

That’s when Midnite looks at you, and that stupid blush of heat ambushes you again.

Feelings were not something you and John Constantine talked about. Sure, they were there, but you never really gave voice to them. You demonstrated them, physically, and often. Midnite seems bent on embarrassing both of you.

“Yeah, yeah,” grouses Constantine, only daring to glance in your direction. But in that single moment, the raw look on his face makes you feel like you need to sit down. “So can you lift it or not?”

“Course I can,” says Midnite dismissively. “What you bring me in return?”

“’Fraid I’ll have to owe you.”

“Hmm. I’ve heard that one too many times from the likes of you, Constantine. I’ll need somethin’ up front.”

“Do you like gold?” asks John Wick blandly, producing five glittering yellow coins from his pocket, setting them on the table in front of Papa Midnite in a neat stack one by one. The pretty tink tink tink of metal fills the air, and Midnite nods with his lips pursed, paying Wick an approving look. However, as he examines the death’s head emblazoned token, it is you he speaks to.

“How did a nice girl like you get tangled up wit Underworld boys like dis?”

A shuddering sigh escapes you, as a montage of the absolute fire you walked through to get to this moment flashes in your mind. The murder, the kidnapping, the chaos and corruption. The passion, the pleasure, and the quieter moments that made you think you might be content to stay with your Boys forever—until they forced you to go.

“It’s a long story, Papa,” you answer, barely able to raise your voice over a whisper.

“Some other time, you’ll tell me, then. Step into my office.”

Midnite leads you to his back room, a cavernous space built in the breathtakingly ornate style of the Moorish palaces of Andalusia. At first you don’t know where to look. The arabesque carved walls, the scalloped arches, the honeycomb vaulted ceilings, or the cacophony of antique relics stacked high on all sides. There are statues and busts and boxes and dolls, this and that and bric-a-brac and every category of precious old junk you can imagine, is here. Your eye is drawn to an old wooden chair against the far wall with leather straps that for some reason gives you chills.

The center of the room is empty, the demarked circle where Midnite performs his workings outlined with bones, half-burnt candles, and rusty lines on the tiles that look like blood.

“Now then,” says Midnite, taking a sip from a bottle of dark rum before offering it to Tex. “Drink up, man. Dis not gonna feel good.”

***

When all is said and done, the four of you all feel like pieces of chewed up gum. You are utterly wiped, and it’s all you can do not to fall asleep in the back of the car with your head on Constantine’s shoulder. Fingering your new tattoo, a mystical symbol that binds Tex Johnson and John Wick to your will, you think on what Papa Midnite said to you before your departure.

“Hard to live with a heart divided in three pieces, girl. You playin’ a dangerous game.”

“It’s not a game to me, Midnite. It’s just…my life, somehow.”

“Dat fair. So you know, I told that silly boy of yours to put a ring on your finger ‘fore he lost the chance. Never seen him like dis, wit any other.”

You’d paid him a grim smile, amused at the thought of Constantine asking you to be his wife. What a laughable prospect. Sweet, but there was no way he felt that about you. “Are you telling me not to break your friend’s heart, Midnite?”

He’d snorted and taken a drink of rum. “I know better than that. But you might tink about what he’ll turn into, if tings go badly.”

Truth be told, you didn’t want to think on that, because it terrified you. All you wanted right now, was to curl up in the bed you shared with John Constantine, and sleep for about seven years.

Midnight had given you a herbal potion that had to be administered to Tex every six hours for a week, and a magical salve to apply to the burn upon his chest where the symbol had, at one point, burst into white-hot flame. You’d feared he’d been at death’s door, until he took your hand with a smirk and mumbled half to you, half to himself, “The things I do for my little rattlesnake.” It had squeezed your heart with a fist, utterly wrecked you, and you knew you couldn’t kick him to the curb just yet.

You were headed back to Constantine’s house, (which you had helped him get together the down payment for, with no strings attached, so…) and the four of you would have to figure out how to co-exist, at least until Tex was back on his feet.

Then…who the fuck knew what was going to happen.

You’d think about that, tomorrow.

Tammykelly:

- a flashback -

Sleep long forfeited to yet another night full of vigorous dance that is the celebration of passion and ever growing connection and affection between two souls who’d found one another amidst chaos that unfailingly enters one’s life book when it flips through the pages onto the next chapter. Gradually, chaos learns the code of order, tamed by the new rules and beginnings, sought after by you and Constantine in an unhasty pace.

You feel the blossom of his soft lips on yours for a while, before you pull away to take a long look at him, running your fingers along his sweaty forehead and through his slightly damp hair. He feels his chest tighten at the way your gaze moves across his tilted up face and lingers on his eyes, entering beyond the physical and reaching for subliminal.

“Hi”, - Constantine croaks, his arms draped around your waist, steadying you, as your heated bodies stay impossibly close.

“Hey, baby”, - you breathe out, your touch leaves traces on his skin in feather-like movements, making his heart flutter.

“You call me that like it means something”, - he wonders out loud.

It must be true, that the eyes are the windows to the soul, for when he says that, you feel the heat of your body grow stronger when his irises light up with an inexplicably warm spark that transforms into the taste of him on your ever waiting lips, while your hips drag out the sensually slow pace. You try to find the perfect rhythm again, having felt yourself folding under the intensity with which your heart blooms and expands every time his dark eyes capture yours.

“I…uh…I’m….”, - you blurt out, the right words stuck at the edge of the said sacred dilation.

Maybe it is love. Love that sprouts across the silver lining that is the tenuous punchline between sanity and deliberate madness of passion. Constantine’s body reacts to yours before his mind has to think about it, as he gently tugs you closer. He doesn’t let you finish, his lips connecting to yours, catching your love on his tongue in a long deliciously flavorful kiss.

He touches your bullet scar, his jawline playing, his eyes darkening.

“They’re gonna pay for what they did to you”, - he quietly tells you again, voice filled with determination that invites more ephemeral warmth into your chest.

“They already did”, - you reply, reminiscence of their absence dissipating into the background of your subconscious when your tongue slides along Constantine’s jaw, tasting tiny droplets of sweat.

“They gotta pick someone their size, yeah?”

His reply makes you smile: “Please, we’ve talked about this, baby”, you feel goosebumps arise at the back of his neck at the nickname, no matter how nonchalant he wants to appear each time you call him a random pet name.

“You care about them? Even after everything they’ve done to you?” - his raspy voice is low but the tone sets a prelude to a gradually boiling point.

“They’re the best I’ve ever had”, he leans back and quirks his eyebrow at your tease, “after you, of course”, you add, smirking.

He lets out a sigh of frustration: “Jesus, it’s like talking to a fucking brick wall”, you feel his fingers dig deeper into your soft skin. You lean closer, your breath over his mouth.

“Calling God’s name when you’re balls deep in me?” your voice akin to a purr, “what a profanity”, a smirk curls up.

“Mhhmm, funny thing is He made this happen”, Constantine’s tone matches your game.

“And is Jesus present in the room with us?” your head tilts.

“Oh, you think it’s funny?” he bucks his hips up.

“You literally just said it is”, an involuntary moan escapes your mouth, lost in the grunt of the man underneath you, when you match his cheat code with a harsh movement of your own.

“It’s an expression”.

“Okay and?”

“Watch your mouth”, - Constantine’s eyes transform into a pair of two burning coals, sending shivers across your whole body, accompanied by the way his fingertips trace down your spine.

You can barely make a sound due to his manipulations: “Can’t read minds, baby”, making it his turn to shudder.

“What, don’t have any better ideas?” he recuperates, the warmth of his arms leave you, as he places his hands behind him on the bed to support his weight. You don’t wait to connect your mouth to his, your teeth sinking into his lower lip before you lightly tug at it and let go. A cocky grin instantaneously leaves his handsome face when he feels your tongue crash into his mouth, which he reciprocates with twice as much force and eagerness, his arms lock back around your waist, and he notices a triumphant smile display itself on your features.

“An angel risen from ashes picked up by the devil reborn”, you answer his question, teasing the idea of which one’s which when you first met. Him - a cancer free phoenix-like angel of death, or you - a devilishly sweet temptress, who, unbeknownst to herself, exchanged two deadly ghosts for the black cat of a man, stuck in between both realms.

You continue: “He always had a rotten sense of humour. And His punch lines are killers”, Constantine’s gaze darkens at the mention of your ghosts.

“Ha-ha, very funny”, his tone less than amused.

“Oh, you find this funny now?” you bite his neck, which makes a deep husky groan erupt from his throat.

“Don’t tell me you believe this fate bullshit”, you say, as you fight the urge to speed up your pace to chase the way his sultry sounds bounce around your insides.

His low growl nearly shatters your self control when he tells you: “Fate or not, you’re mine now. Mine”, you feel his teeth sink into your skin, “you hear me?”, his gaze when he looks up akin to the explosion of a sleeping volcano underneath an already blazing ocean, edging you onto the border of a slippery slope that is the point of no return once you process the 3 magic words that are glued to your tongue.

Instead two short words roll off, as a soft moan:“Yes, baby”.

“Gonna give you everything you want”, you feel his hands roam all over your body, “all of me”.

You lean back.

“All of you?”- your expression flickers with darkness, showing him your devilish desire, as his silent gaze shaves off the outer layers down to your core.

“You son of a bitch”, you breathe out, smiling, after a brief pause, for your racing heartbeat shifts to a contracting and pulsating firework, overtaking all of your senses. You study his handsome face, drinking in all the details you’ve grown so attached to, florescence of affection tugging your lips upwards in a gentle smile.

Constantine’s eyes set the fire in the pit of your belly ablaze on the scale that you’re sure will be the death of you some day, for being with him is like Heaven on Earth and being apart now seems like a cruel tool of a ghostly destruction.

His playful grin pulls you back in: “Calling me a son of a bitch when I got you on my dick? You’re brave, kitten”.

“That’s exactly why I can call you that. You’re my son of a bitch”, you grab his hair and give it a nice pull before you lean down to lick up his neck, placing a gentle kiss right under his ear, feeling him twitch inside you, “and Devil’s right hand, yeah?”

“More like his puppet”, Constantine grunts, as you look down at him, sensing him barely able to maintain the slow[ish] pace you’ve set, holding onto the last threads of self-restraint.

“So, no rewards for that, I suppose?”, you tease further, testing the limits of the mind games he’s been playing with you all day long.

“Afraid not, angel”.

“Let me be the one to send you to Heaven then”, you whisper right against his ear and kiss his temple.

All the blurry lines of will power come tumbling down, when the sound of him sucking air through his teeth enters your inner space, as Constantine’s hand finds its place between your jawline and neck.

Gradually, you encourage his index and middle fingers between your lips, his irises unable to focus anywhere else but the way you take them in, his whole body akin to a molten liquid metal, his fingers melting on your tongue. You giddily lick them, your tongue swirling around them, playing with his digits like lollipop toys, until you let go and take care of the saliva under Constantine’s furnace of a carnally hungry gaze.

You feel your hips stuttering against the increasing pace, when you hear his raspy voice: “Fuck, kitten, you feel like Heaven”, the energy between your bodies and feverish kisses multiplying in increasingly all consuming vehement abundance that can crack the earth open.

“Touché”.

A half smile coats his lips at your cute quip.

“Watch”, you tell him, his eyes shifting to the mirror somewhere behind you.

The heat of his hips rolling against yours at the speed that finds you both panting and sweaty messes is more than enough for him to tip over the edge but as his eyes take in the scene of your power over him, his body proceeds to come apart under you when your fingers wrap around his throat and apply pressure, slightly tipping his face up.

“Open”, you say, your thumb glazing over his soft lips, and he raises an eyebrow, “don’t you wanna cum, baby?”, you sweetly inquire.

“Fuck”, his voice is barely audible, Constantine’s eyes glimmer under your watchful lust, the darkness in the depth of the bottomless abyss that is him transcending what has become of his power over you. His eyelids flutter slightly, as your spit falls on his tongue.

“Swallow”, you reward him with a particularly harsh snap of your hips, seeing his Adam’s apple bobble.

“You’re gonna pay for that”, he growls.

“You’re a drama queen, you know that?”, you point out, leaving a love-bite mark on his collarbone, knowing damn well at the way he’s twitching inside you, he won’t be lasting long. You smirk, as you slow down the pace to a damn near full stop, eliciting a low and deep whine from him.

What the fuck, his eyes show you, roaming over your face hungrily.

“Tell me how much you want me”, you purr, feeling his fingers next to your scalp, tugging you closer.

“Fuck, angel, wanna feel you so bad”, an angelically evil smile plays on your face at his response, “need you on biblical level”, he finishes, the butterflies inside you catching aflame, their fiery wings spreading across every fibre of your being.

Constantine feels like he might go insane without you, your whole existence being the lone salvation he’s been seeking his entire life. He twitches again.

“Say that again”, your sultry tone pervades his mind, the pace picking up just a tiny bit.

“Need you to move, right now”, he begs.

You look at him expectantly.

“I can’t control myself any longer. Please, fuck me”, he looks up into your eyes that have turned into blazingly bright gates to the oblivion that is his path to purgatory. His gaze diverts back to the mirror and your goddess-like form against his.

“God, you’re sexy when you beg”, you whisper, Constantine can practically hear the cocky smirk in your voice, as a loud moan erupts from his throat, while he watches himself get ruined by everything that is you.

“I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel”, you exhale, listening to the way your name exits his lips akin to a gust of wind, blowing across an infinite ocean.

“Cheeky little girl”, he barely replies between the chain-smoke of moans.

“Fuck you”, you breathe out.

“Say no more”, he chuckles, his lips and teeth leaving bruises all over your sensitive chest, his hips meeting yours at an increasingly high speed.

“Fuck me harder”, he growls, his lips soliciting moans from yours.

“What a good girl”, he purrs and smiles against your neck, feeling your speed folding, as you attempt to gain the upper hand.

“My beautiful angel”, Constantine praises, kissing down the valley of your breasts, enjoying every single breathless moan that you leave for him to treasure, “you’re doing so well”, he continues, “I love it when you fuck me like this”, his lips graze yours before another storm of a kiss unfolds itself.

“Oh, yeah?”

“So good, I need you to fuck me like this every day”, his teeth tug your lower lip and let go, his open-mouth kiss then imprinting a picture of his love for you on your tongue.

“Need this pussy for breakfast, lunch and fucking dinner”, - a husky growl of his makes your insides deliciously twist.

“Say less”, you giggle after the kiss breaks apart, only for a yet another wave of kissing, biting, hair pulling and power play, resembling a balanced match, surpass the two of you.

You feel as if the sun that is the man, obeying your all desires, is scorching you with a strong nurturing vitality, meeting you halfway anytime you slip.

The sun, sometimes deadly, shining its light on you and sharing the experience of birth of the stars with you, until all you and Constantine know is that you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.

“Cum for me, baby”, you whisper, your eyes hazily gazing into his.

“Fuck”, he moans into your mouth, as you and him become one in an endless explosion of lustful starlight.

You both take a moment to steady your breathing, the pulses of your bodies streaming along the lines of your silhouettes akin to the red string of fate. Suddenly, you feel yourself getting lifted and plopped on the bed, the heavy weight hovers above you.

“My turn”, Constantine growls, worshipping you and your body in a form of myriad of kisses, adoring your skin.

“I’m not finished with you”, you chuckle, pulling his face to yours.

“Wanna ride your pretty face so badly”, you breathe out shakily, watching his pupils dilate, turning his dark chocolate eyes into jet-black colour of the night outside your windows.

He kisses you deeply before teasing: “Should’ve said sooner, princess”, and flips you.

Before you know it, his lips are connected to your nether ones, placing sweet kisses on God’s bewitching and intricate creation.

“Oh, fuck!”, a scream leaves your mouth, as you lose control over your limbs when Constantine demonstrates his vicious payback for all of your previous manipulations, the delirious temptation to play him exiting your body like it was never there.

The way his tongue devours you till the last drop like a man starved, you assume you’re not the only one losing yourself to this trick of devilish pleasure, pulling you deeper into the whirlpool that keeps expanding wave by wave until it comes thundering through your body like a tsunami, then crashing onto a shore over and over, the sound of your screams mixing with the magnitude of Constantine’s sonic savouring of your most precious parts till his immeasurable hunger for all divinity that is you is satiated beyond your limits.

Songs for the delulu meal:

The best I ever had by Limi

Obsessed by Zandros ft. Limi

Dangerous woman Call out my name mix

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

You don’t know if it’s some kind of magic, or if you’re just this petty. But, damn, that succubus did piss you off. Even worse than her, with her silky black hair and sweet milk skin and inviting, rosy eyes and cheeks.. You catch yourself mid thought, determined to pluck her from your brain.

Yes, even worse than that half breed bitch - Jesus, who are you? - was watching Tex suffer and bleed. Blue lips forming around a silent scream; a beg for the ritual to stop. Tan, supple skin turned ashen gray and tented. Dark eyes blown milky and wild with terror.

There’s another memory you have to get rid of somehow: Tex dying a slow, grueling death in some hellish, accelerated time loop. In front of you. Powerless you.

You have his take home medications clutched tightly to your torso as the Johns lug him inside, one under each arm, his feet stumbling and dragging so much that Wick decides to just pick him up.

Why in the world did that make you so delighted? To see John Wick carrying Tex Johnson bridal style across Constantine’s threshold?

Your smile wipes clean, though, when you realize that Tex has not made a witty quip or even grinned at this show of brotherhood. John deposits him on the couch, and you sit on the floor beside, holding his hand. Your stomach lodges into your chest when you feel how cold he is. Your human heater turned ice box.

“Tex,” you say softly, brushing the untamed thicket of hair from his eyes.

He keeps his eyes closed, but that fond little tick of his mouth lets you know he hears you loud and clear.

You swallow your pride. “I missed you, too.”

You hope to God he’ll harass you for saying that, later.

For now, a grunt will suffice.

This man has put you through hell, but fuck, if he hasn’t been heaven all the way through it. You had really thought he was dying back there, and it…. put things into perspective.

Wick is in the kitchen dwarfing the tiny dining table with Constantine. Not talking, not even looking at one another. Some kind of tension exists between them, but at least it’s not the awkward or homicidal kind… well, at least as far as you can tell.

You grab some cold bourbon from the fridge, pour 3 glasses, and dish them out. Then, you hop up on the counter and join this sinewy silence game.

Wick breaks the skin, twin eyes meeting Constantine’s. “Thank you,” he says.

Constantine grins tightly. “Consider it repayment.”

“For?”

Oh, here we fucking go.

Constantine, the bastard prodigy of Lucifer himself - or, he might as well be - doesn’t answer, instead nudging his chin and shoulder toward you, as if you’re some prize Wick handed to him on a silver platter.

Now, you don’t really know what to expect from John. Fiercely protective, aloof John. But it’s definitely not a grin. A fucking grin. Yeah, he really has gone totally batshit. Terrifying.

Constantine looks stumped, and so do you.

“I’m gonna get going,” Wick says, standing and draping his jacket around his arms. You get a strong wiff of delicious leather and diesel and gunpowder.

“You’re leaving?” This comes out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“Yeah.”

“What about Tex?”

“I’ll be near.”

No use fronting now.

“What if something happens? What if we need you -“

Constantine cuts off your increasingly frantic voice. “I think you should stay.”

It’s Wick’s turn to look stumped. He raises a dark eyebrow. Constantine rewords.

“Please. Stay. We may need you.” Constantine looks over at you, giving that you owe me leer.

Your nerves settle when Wick puts his jacket back on the rack and slips his shoes off, looking at you all the while.

John Wick sleeps in the little broom closet turned guest room, and you and Constantine retire to your bedroom. This place is purely a you sanctuary, with incense burners and tapestries and little trinkets you’ve collected from your travels. It’s a souvenir from your limited therapy sessions, and a much needed safe space.

Before you can shut the bedroom door, you hear John’s monotone voice turn doting. It reminds you of being soothed through an orgasm, him cradling you when you cried - the hum that disarms and breaks you.

You go to him, peaking inside the narrow door that he had to duck to get through. Killy is rubbing against Wick’s torso, purring, headbutting, her tiny fluffy body practically vibrating from the attention of his big hand.

He smiles at you. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, meet Baby Killy. She’s so shy usually.”

“Pretty kitty,” John coos, scratching behind her ears as she chirps for him.

Great, you’re jealous of a cat. Which is stupid because you have a whole other man in the next room that can’t keep his hands off you. You’re selfish, you realize.

“Sorry it’s not comfortable,” you tell Wick, looking at his calves hanging off the tiny mattress. “I can buy an air mattress.”

He twirls Killy’s tail softly around his finger. “It’s fine, y/n. Get some rest.”

“Yeah. Night John.” You leave him, pretending it’s not reluctantly.

Constantine is already in his boxers, cigarette nipped between his teeth. You pluck it from him and take a long drag. “Thought we were supposed to be quitting?” Blowing smoke over his lips.

He tugs you down into the bed with him. “I’ve had a long day.”

“Aw, poor thing.” You kiss his jaw, shimmying the white stick back into his mouth.

Your lips trail feather light down his quivering throat, nose pausing, nuzzling against his quickening pulse. A shy, involuntary smile slides into his collarbone divot. Your magic man shivers under you, makes you feel like you can kick God’s ass if it really comes down to it.

He gently fists your hair in his fingers while you suck the hard day off his skin, hand trailing south on his tight twitching tummy, lazily perusing in search of a swelling, sensitive, beautiful cock trapped in cloth.

He smushes the half cigarette out in your little pearlescent ashtray, tips your face up, kisses you soft. Kisses you like you like you’re some being of fleeting, fragile light and hope. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You grin against his mouth, using that familiar formal, ironic greeting that he favors when you’re both wading knee deep into eachother’s personal space already.

You pull away to look down at his tenting boxers, but your eyes snag something on the way. A big, fresh bruise to his opposite collar - wide and diffuse as if from a large hand. It’s normal for Constantine to have bruises, and he did fight demons today. But this mark? Fresh. Just blooming. Plus, the only one on his long, expansive body.

Your mind thinks back to the kitchen, how they were both so quiet. Looking far too innocent. You feel stupid for not expecting this.

“Did John hit you?” You’ve gotten really good at talking before thinking. Just one of many Constantine mannerisms you’ve picked up along the journey of knowing him.

“We talked.”

You go to get up. No plan in mind except hurting Wick. Really hurting him. Either with words or a quicker fist than he can catch. Probably the latter, since John excels at catching fists, but you still think you can slice him just as much with a few well placed sentences. Of course, you could also try out this nifty new spell of submission..

Constantine holds you in place. “I started it.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” You see him wince at the sinister growl in your voice, and your spiked fur smooths a little bit if only for his benefit. “He’s a fucking asshole. He thinks he can just bully people into submission. Let’s see how he likes it.” You’re talking loud enough that you hope Wick can hear it. You know he’s not scared… because it’s John Wick, but, you at least hope he knows you’re coming for his throat.

“Angel.” Constantine’s long, careful fingers cup your face. “It’s alright. Not tonight. Let you kick his ass tomorrow, okay? Right now, I need you with me. Hey, look at me…. There you are. You hearing me?”

You lean into his touch and kiss his wrist. “Yeah, okay.”

“C’mon.” He pats his chest and you lay your head on it. “Now, where were we..”

You give a little chuckle. “In the pit of despair?”

He gathers your hair and pulls it off your shoulder, tickles his fingers over your neck. “I think…” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” It thrills and scares you a little bit that this man can make such a breathy, desperate mess of you from just a tiny touch.

“Think you should put on some pajamas and let me read to you.”

Suddenly, your anger runs dry, replaced by excitement. He laughs at your hopeful, mystified expression.

“You’re gonna read to me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Better hurry before I change my mind.”

You love it when Constantine reads to you, always mesmerized by that smooth, baritone voice, and it’s not often that he’s up for it.

You don’t bother going into the bathroom to get dressed, which you can tell he appreciates. You can also tell that he loves the fact that you bypass your own clothes entirely and instead throw on one of his big flannels.

You cuddle beside him, wrap your arms around his waist and tuck in for your after dark entertainment.

“Hey, hey, Angel.” It takes you a minute to open your eyes. Constantine assists this process with a pleasant rub between your shoulder blades and a hushed voice.

“Huh?” Your voice is groggy, far away, brain still swimming in twilight.

Constantine gives you a patient stretch of time to wake and groan and wipe the spare drool from your chin. The blue dawn outside tells you that it’s early - way too early. You don’t remember falling asleep, and it must have been a glorious one judging by your wicked bed head and sore voice.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Clint Eastwood won’t let James Bond give him his medicine. He says he wants you to do it.”

“Are you serious?” You ask.

Constantine opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He sighs. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck,” you mumble.

Tex, eyes open, sitting up, cat on his lap, looks at you like you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. Big, appreciative grin. You can’t be annoyed for too long when you see that he has color back in his face.

“Hello, nurse.”

Damn his infectious grin. “What? John’s not a good enough nurse for you?”

“He’s alright. Not very cute, though.” He sizes you up as you roll your eyes and snort.

He gives you a little wink. “See you still hate wearin your own clothes.”

You look down at yourself - at the big cozy button flannel that falls mid thigh with nothing else on under or over it. You really didn’t even think about how exposed you were when you got up and came out here. But, now, you’re flushing and shifting on your feet.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me now, rattlesnake. I’ve had all of it in my mouth anyway, yeah?”

Sinful reels flit through your memories. And, fuck you, but even that makes you so wet you can feel it in the crease of your thighs already.

The reality hits you that this could be a thing, somehow: Johnson and the Johns with you pressed between. You short circuit thinking about it for a solid twenty seconds.

Tex chuckles, pets Killy. “Your momma’s too easy,” he tells her, and the traitor purrs and merrs and pushes into his doting palm as if in agreement.

Great, two treasonous pussy’s in this house.

Plus, you’re about ninety nine percent sure Constantine will do more than curse them if he sees their hands on you in any carnal way. Even though this thing between the two of you is unestablished and unlabeled, your magic man is more than a little possessive.

You remember, fondly, the time he pissed you off, so you went on a date with a nice young gentleman who also happened to be a cop - Johnny, you think his name was. Jesus fuck, you really do have issues - and Constantine blew every fuse in that restaurant with a spell. In the pitch black, no one saw him come pick you right up and carry you out. That night started with “fuck you, Constantine” and ended with “no no agh fuck please m’ sorryjohnsosorry.”

Wick’s nowhere to be found, which you don’t really mind. If you see him again, you might just try kicking him in the dick. You mix Tex’s medicines in the kitchen, heating up the thick herbal soup in a little pot. It smells bad, kinda like fish, draws Killy’s attention really quick.

She brushes against your legs and reminds you that she’s hungry and that oh, that smells good, mom.

You scoop her out a cup of kitty kibble while the stove simmers, then give her a few pets. It’s not often that she’s so doting on you - she prefers Constantine and solidarity over your company. But, she must know something’s up - either that or it’s the fishy concoction steaming up your little kitchen.

Tex winces when you rub the salve into his burn. It looks awful - dry and necrotic, little charred skin flakes sticking to your fingertips.

You scrub them off on a towel, grimacing. “Does this hurt?”

“Numb,” he shrugs. Reaches out to tuck hair behind your ear. Your body reacts violently and insistently. Constantine’s touch, pleasant and warm and diffuse; that’s what you’re used to. You forgot about Tex’s sharp edges, the scary thrill of him. Like the first drop of the roller coaster.

“Tex,” you warn.

“Sorry, darlin. Just so fuckin pretty. Forgot how beautiful you are, is all. How good ya smell. Christ, even with Houdini’s scent all over you.” He pinches your chin in his fingers and makes you look at him, at the sincerity in his blown black pupils and hooded, lustful gaze. “He eatin your pussy right, huh? Need me to show him how to do it?”

“You know,” you say, hating yourself for the thick in your voice, “I have this nifty new spell I can use…”

He chuckles. “Settle down, honeypie, I’m just trying to be nice, is all.”

“Nice.” You glare at him and he lets you go.

The fishy stuff in the mug wipes the grin right off Tex’s face. He chokes and sputters. “Good God, what in hell’s name is this Guacala shit.”

You smile at him and take the empty cup. “Every six hours, cowboy.”

On your way back into the bedroom, he watches you unabashedly. Killy is back on his lap. “You got a shower here, rattlesnake?”

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” you tell him.

“Think I need some help.”

“Uh huh. You can manage.”

“Alright, you got me. I don’t really need help I just wanna fuck the shit outta ya.”

“Sorry, Tex, but that’s-“ you look pointedly at the purring feline in his lap -“the only pussy you’ll be getting in this house.”

You shut your door before you can catch his mumble: “we’ll just see about that.”

Constantine is in his study. You debate going and fucking him on the desk chair, working off this sticky arousal coating your cunt and inner thighs. But, also, you’re still sleepy, and laying down in the bed already has your eyelids fluttering closed and brain going mushy. You struggle between options until your body eventually decides for you.

You wake up to the delicious evocation of salt and fat and heat. John Wick is back. He’s in the kitchen cooking one of those five star breakfasts that are worth letting him live. For now.

Bread pops up from the toaster, startling you. “Hey, that’s been broken.”

“Fixed it,” he says, dexterously flipping his pan. “Got the faucet to work in the bathroom sink. Your drain’s here are built wrong. I’m gonna take a look after I finish breakfast. There’s fresh orange juice and chocolate milk in the fridge. Coffee on the warmer.”

“That’s not my coffee pot.” You eye the expensive looking, silver, sleek appliance with steaming black, delicious smelling brew under.

“I got a new one.”

Are you really surprised at this point? You grab some orange juice from the fridge, and find the once bare shelves stocked and organized with fresh fruits and veggies, eggs and jams, healthy pre-made snack boxes.

The cupboards have also magically filled themselves with canned fruits and veggies, organic breads, high end trail mixes, protein bars.

The place is spotlessly clean. New microwave, an ice maker beside the stove. Real glasses and plates stacked in the cupboards.

Wick has been busy, it seems.

Constantine walks into the kitchen, paying attention to the newspaper in his hand instead of his surroundings until he sees you. “Hey, Angel-“ looks up, takes in the practically brand new kitchen. “What in the fuck.”

#wicked johnson fic #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fic #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #tex johnson #tex johnson x reader #tex johnson x you #yandere tex johnson #constantine x you #john constantine x you #constantine 2005 #john constantine x reader #constantine x reader #keanu reeves

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avatarkv · 1 year

Text

To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed, (when you are young they assume you know nothing.)

✎ Synopsis ! You had a special bond with Lo'ak since you were children, but now he's pulling away and you're left to watch him slowly cut the remaining bond you two have. You try your best to reach out, but it appears your efforts are in vain as he moves farther and farther away.

Content & warning: Lo'ak x reader! Lo'ak is kind of a dick here. No happy ending! You wanted angst and I shall serve. (wc; 6196)

Lo’ak didn’t know how to love. He found his freedom in the lushness of Pandora, tumbling off the highest mountains, careening down its curves and entangling himself in the greenery. He often found himself giving in to the feeling of excitement as it rushes through his body, a sudden drop that would take him by surprise but vanish almost too quickly. It was a sensation he enjoyed immensely, one moment of pleasure and the next nothing but a light tickle running down his spine.

He found comfort in knowing that nothing lasts, and like his fleeting adrenaline, everything would die down eventually– it is what it is, his tagline.

He wasn’t an idiot though, knew very well how his crass attitude got under everyone’s skin. The clan would stare differently, whisper a different tone and shift oddly when he came around. Lo’ak stood out like a sore thumb and while it was better than being his brother’s shadow, he hated how it made him feel alien. Oh great mother, he truly was his father’s son.

His head would always hang low whenever he was in the presence of the people and perhaps that’s why he never enjoyed a crowd; was never fond of gatherings or parties. He always found a way to sneak from Neteyam’s watchful eye, much to his dismay. It was a talent, a skill, for him to disappear before you’d even know he was there.

But he could never outrun you, absolutely hated how you always seemed to be one step behind him. Lo’ak had even lost some of his hiding spots because of your persistence. Tonight was no different; he'd leave, and you'd follow.

“Know you're there,” His hoarse voice called out for you behind the bushes. He was tipsy– eagerly sipping from the flask he stole from the quarters. “You have to try this, come on.”

“I just got here so joke’s on you.” You knew better than to accompany him in this recklessness, knew better than to trail behind him like a second tail. “You’ll definitely get skinned this time.”

You saw in him something that you could never quite put your finger on, something that made you feel drawn to him– no words could explain how you felt weightless around Lo’ak. Maybe that’s why you never let yourself be driven away by all the moments he tried so hard to keep his distance.

“Nah, you never snitch. At least not on me,” You had only shrugged while approaching the log he sat on, pushing back the booze that he tried to hand over.

He rolled his eyes, how typical of you. “You should get a life. Honestly, it’s creepy how you always manage to find me.” You didn’t mind his unfiltered choice of words towards you anymore. You grew to handle those– the way everything he said once felt like bricks down your stomach, now reduced to the smallest of stings nipping on your chest.

Your personality was a stark contrast to his recklessness, similar to Jake’s eldest. You were on everyone's good side— top of your class, a great healer alongside Kiri, skillful weaver, you name it. On top of that, you had a charisma that made everyone swoon. It never seemed to work on Lo’ak though, he hated the spotlight that adorned you, hated the way you continued to follow him like you meant to put salt on his ever-growing wound. You were everything he wasn’t– the last thing he’d ever want beside him, a carbon copy of his goody two-shoes brother.

With that, you just didn’t stand out. To him, you were just like everyone else— everything that he isn’t.

“And you shouldn’t waste yours,” You shot back, “Besides, you aren’t that hard to find anyway.”

You didn’t miss how he whispered out ‘creep’ under his breath, yet you reveled at the fact that he didn’t ask you to leave. Your hands fidgeted under the present you meant to give him tonight, covered prettily with thick leaves and colorful ribbons. You stood up, casting a shadow above him. “Got you something,”

He looked up at you in surprise, before his expression settled back to the usual disdain. “What is it?” He asked gruffly. You wondered if he was actually interested or just trying to get rid of you faster than usual.

You extended your arms and carefully placed the present on his lap, “Open it and see for yourself.”

He eyed the present suspiciously before he began to take off the leaves and ribbons one by one, revealing a dark-blue velvet box. He opened it slightly, eyes widening as he saw what was inside—a green shawl, adorned with different beads and shells. The pattern was mesmerizing and he found himself running his hand through the cloth, your hard work was evident on the intricate design.

You smiled shyly, “Thought it’d look really nice on you.” He pulled out the shawl and examined it in his hands before looking up at you quizzically as if he didn’t know how to respond. The silence was palpable, heavy with anticipation.

Oh Eywa, you make it so difficult for him. “Jesus, you can learn a thing or two from Kiri.”

You felt your heart sink, mood completely soiled. You were sure he would’ve loved it, had to ask around the other Sullys’ of his favorite color or if there were certain trinkets that irritated his skin so you’ll know what to not put.

“You don’t like it?” It was hard not to miss the sadness in your voice and it made him wince.

“Thought you would’ve known by now that I’m not interested,” He said, sipping one last time from the flask, before standing up. “You’re this desperate?” You heard him mutter, followed by a low chuckle as he walked away.

This time, you couldn’t be bothered to go after him, feeling the familiar heartache creeping back and gluing your feet down the soil. Your eyes were transfixed by the fire in front you. Despite how it burned brightly, loudly cackling, you can’t help but feel cold. He was achingly near and yet far from your grasp. You wonder when things changed– when he became distant and cruel.

The flames danced around each other as if in a passionate embrace but the sparks never reached you. The ache in your chest started to grow, a heavy reminder that you could never get too close. You stay hopeful- that maybe one day, he will come back and things will be different again.

You remember when you first met him, so charismatic and full of life. You felt like a magnet was between the two of you, a link that kept drawing you closer. His voice was warm and his eyes were gilded with kindness. He made it hard to say no.

You watched him change, knew very well how different he became as he grew older. Aside from how his figure had drastically changed, muscles more firm and visible, his features were something worth staring for hours— it was no secret that their parents' genes were good. While Neteyam was the splitting image of his mother, he was Jake’s.

You remember being taller than him when you were kids and you enjoyed teasing him for it every minute. It was an inside joke you had when you were kids, that he couldn’t come in adventures because of the required height. He was so easy to piss off, but you didn’t relent when the other clan’s kids poked fun on him for other things.

“My sa’nok said not to play with you, because you are demon!”

The others nodded in agreement, making little Lo’ak’s eyes burn brighter with tears. “You are not even true na’vi, no na’vi has five fingers!”

“I am Na’vi!” Lo’ak tried to hiss, but it only came out as a high-pitched scream, clutching the wooden model of Toruk Makto close to his chest. “If dad hears about this, he will—

“Boo, a tattle-tale! Just go home, freak!”

The laugh died down when one of the kids felt a rock thrown just behind his head. He immediately turns, forehead creased. “Hey!”

“Leave him alone!” You were high up the tree branches, loading your make-shift slingshot and aiming it towards them. “Lo’ak belongs and if you say otherwise, I’m hitting you again!”

They had scurried after the second hit, seeing how the pebbles had changed into bigger rocks. You were in big trouble after that though, but you remember Lo’ak sitting by the entrance of your hut, legs swinging as he patiently waited for you. A friendship bloomed that very day, or maybe something more– or so you thought. You and Lo’ak grew up together.

You sighed, finally standing up and making your way back to your hut.

You watched him change and you wouldn’t think in a hundred of years that he’d be the one to make you feel alien. It became more and more apparent that Lo'ak didn't want anything to do with you and you could never fathom why.

“Kiri!” You yelled, running towards the group.

Lo’ak loudly groaned. “Did you have to invite her?”

“Well you invited Spider, it’s only fair that I bring a friend in too.” Kiri answered in the same sassiness as his brother and it made him roll his eyes. She took your hand and tightly held on to it.

“She’ll just be dead weight— a burden along the way.” He spoke so harshly of you like you weren’t standing there in front of them. You rubbed your arms in embarrassment, “She literally follows me around every chance she gets, give me a break.”

Spider jabbed him from the side, “Dude don’t be a dick, just let her come.”

His eyes widened as an idea seemed to have passed his mind, “How about we fly together instead?” Your slumped shoulders rose in anticipation as you waited for him to continue, “Later, when I get back. Wait for me at our usual spot.”

Kiri wasn’t having any of it though and she immediately shoves Lo’ak, “I swear to Eywa, whatever you’re planning.”

He raises both his hands, “Relax, I just want quality time with you guys— is that too much to ask?” It was hard not to sense the mischief in his tone, but the way he had hurriedly pulled them away from you gave no room for negotiation. You watched as they walked away with Lo’ak’s arms slung on each of their shoulders.

You were oblivious to his true intentions, yet you carried on with your duties hurriedly throughout the day. Your mother could see the glint in your eyes, how you eagerly waited for the day to be over. You were excited, you felt like your chest could explode. Lo’ak had finally asked you out after years of trying to get on his good side again– years of pining and dedication and you hoped to have finally softened his calloused heart again. You felt your mother kneel behind you, taking the comb from your hands and brushing through your hair herself.

“Someone’s getting all dolled up, what’s the occasion?” She teased, parting your locks to braid.

You smiled, fingers playing with the many beads you wanted to put on your hair. “Going out with Lo’ak today,” You answered, “We’re flying our Ikrans before eclipse.”

You heard your mother sigh and it was hard not to be disheartened. She knew of all your dilemmas about the boy, all the rants and tears you had shed. “Oh, my sweet child. You know Lo’ak, he’s not the same boy he was when you were kids.”

“I know that but,” You drew a deep breath, shoulders slumped for the nth time today, “he promised this time, you know?”

“Ma’ite, you tire your heart and for what? You accept him with open arms and you return empty-handed. Maybe it’s time you give love a chance to someone more willing– someone who would reciprocate.” Your mother had turned you towards her and you could see the worry evident in the creases of her eyebrows and the pity in her eyes. “It’s been years, allow yourself to grow.”

Lo’ak was worth more than your heart– you’d give him everything if you had to, but there was something with your mother’s words that unraveled more than a hurtful understanding. You weren’t a kid anymore and so was he, yet you stayed the same girl who stayed by him.

You carried her words throughout the day and here you were now, sitting by the boulder at you and Lo’ak’s spot, still hopeful for his coming.

The sun burned and faltered, eclipse neared and there was still no sight of him. You waited eagerly, dully watching the nearby animals that passed as each hour came and went. But as every hour dragged on, your hope began to dim until at last you realized that he wasn't coming at all. With shoulders slumped and gaze low, you trudged back back the same way you came, head low and heart heavy.

Your heart sank as you crept through the village, eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion; but even more so from disappointment. You returned, hoping against hope that it was a misunderstanding and that this was only a matter of miscommunication. But what greeted you at last made it all too clear. There sat Lo'ak, oblivious to all else around him, flirting and laughing carelessly with Sa’yu, a known songstress.

Your eyes burned from the sight. As the emotions rose up like a huge wave, you found yourself unable to stay any longer. You turned away, heading back to your hut. You were boiling with emotions, the urge to lash out at the one responsible for consuming your every thought.

When did they even become close? How come you’ve never noticed both of them in one picture? It was confusing and above all, it was unfair. The night carried on with your restless thoughts.

“You’re saying Lo’ak didn’t show up?” Kiri asked, voice tight with irritation. You were making bracelets with her as you told Kiri of the occurrences last night and she seemed more upset than you were, “And him and Sa’yu? Oh great mother, allow me to knot that skxawng’s braid and tail together.”

“It’s fine, why do I even bother.”

She flicked your forehead in return, “You’re too nice for your own good, it’s sickening. This is clearly all on Lo’ak, stop enabling his angsty-teenager phase.” Kiri looked at you, eyes focused on the colorful beads and thread, “See, and you’re even making him a bracelet. Even I don’t know what made him change.”

You sighed, lowering your work. “I don’t know, I don’t know. How do you unlove someone you’ve learned to love all your life?”

“Barf. You and your dramatics,” She tried to humor, but when she saw how your frown only deepened, Kiri sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder. “__, why do you even stay?”

“What?” Your eyes finally meet hers,

“I mean, he has been telling you to leave him alone– that he wants you out, so why do you stay?”

It was a harsh blow, but nonetheless needed. Why did you stay? “Because,” You frustratedly palmed your face, running your hand through your hair harshly. “Because there’s this small part inside me that knows what we had before is still salvageable, that he’ll come around and back to me again.”

“Skxawng!” Kiri scolded, following close behind her brother. “__ is a nice person, you of all people should know that.” Lo'ak sighed wearily, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. He was expecting it would come to this eventually, but avoided thinking about it as long as he could. "Where is this going, Kiri?"

"You stood her up," She crossed her arms tightly, one eyebrow raised, “And you with Sa’yu? When did that happen?”

He groans, throwing his head back and massaging his temples. “There’s nothing going on between us, can’t I have any friends?”

Kiri stepped back, narrowing her eyes. She had always been protective of you and never hesitated to call out his brother’s wrongdoings. After a few seconds of silence, she finally spoke up, “Nothing wrong with you meeting new people, but what’s your deal with __?”

“Nothing, I swear.”

“Oh?” Kiri’s eyebrows perked up in surprise and her head tilted inquisitively, a small smile playing on her lips. “Invite her to the dance then,” she suggested.

Lo'ak's eyes widened in disbelief; He knew there was no way he could blatantly ask you out, not with the way things were between you. “What?”

“You heard me. If nothing’s wrong then have her as your plus-one for the clan’s gathering,” She challenged, “Apologize to her right now for last night.”

“Fine, I will. You’ll see.” Kiri grinned and clapped her hands together, not doubting Lo'ak's determination in the slightest. She knew just where to strike his ego. "That's my brother! Now go, before I change my mind."

Lo’ak only nodded sharply, not wanting to get into an argument with her. He knew better than to get on his sister’s bad side, Eywa might strike him down this time or something. She pursued her lips, motioning him to go and find you. With a last roll of his eyes, he left.

Lo’ak didn’t know how to love and maybe he would never.

He swears the moment he had tried desperately to shake you off, but you lingered like a tattooed kiss, every inch of skin burning from when you once held him. He knew then that no matter what he did, there was no escape from these emotions that always rekindled.

Lo’ak knew where to find you, so he followed the familiar path of gravel that led straight towards your hidden spot. Sure enough, there you were sitting in all your beauty and grace. He couldn't help but smile at the sight, taking solace in the fact that a place like this was someplace both of them once considered home; a place where both of you felt safe from any troubles.

“__,” He called out for you and your head sharply turned to where he stood. Your creased eyebrows softened, feeling last night’s emotions rush back to your system.

“What do you want?” You immediately averted your gaze back to your work.

He sighed as he walked towards you, sitting on the spot beside you. “I’m..” He frustratedly nipped on his bottom lip, “I’m sorry.” The apology felt unfamiliar on his lips, and it lacked sincerity. But how could you possibly turn away from him? Maybe this was the slow progress you had been praying for; small steps in the right direction. Your mind had already been made up before he even said sorry, but hearing it out loud seemed to be making a difference.

“Doesn’t sound like you mean it.” Your voice was low and your eyes still didn’t meet his.

“I do! I really do, I just.” He tried to think of a reason, tried to make you finally look at him. “I’ve forgotten, it slipped out of my mind.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his pathetic excuse.

He didn't miss even the slightest action that suggested your irritation. Lo'ak scooted closer, thighs now touching, “To show how sincere I am about my apology, let me take you to tomorrow's dance.” This caught your attention and made your ears perk up; he saw it and felt his heart swell with hope. Taking this as an encouraging sign, he continued. "I’m really sorry.”

He was only sorry for last night but for you, it felt like an apology worth all the time he had forced you away. You finally glanced at him, sighing deeply. “Fine, on one condition.”

His eyes widened, heart racing in anticipation. “What?” He asked.

You held his hand as you proclaimed, “You confide in me again.” Your eyes brimmed with emotion, radiating a deep sincerity. “I miss you and I mean it,” you said softly. He could barely stutter out a response, his throat tight and mouth dry from the intensity of the moment. His heart was thundering in his chest and suddenly he felt hyper-aware of how close the two of you were standing to each other.

Before he could even speak, you reached for something behind you– the bracelet you were making with Kiri. “And wear that tomorrow for the dance.” You had smiled so softly, it was hard for him to say no. Lo’ak took it, taking in your craft and its details again. You always knew how to make something simple so much more.

Much to your surprise, he stayed there, watching you work as the day burned.

He knew he couldn’t escape this one gathering.

It was for them– the clan’s young warriors who had power through the many trainings. The party was in full bloom; decadent music pulsed through the night air and the bonfire burned brightly at the center. Voices filled the room, rising up and entwining with the melodious drums and feet lightly tapping against the dirt to a distant rhythm. People delighted in the lively environment, standing proudly while their parents praised their children for a job well done.

Lo’ak stood at the corner, heart raising in anticipation as he searched for you amidst the growing crowd– you were surely taking your sweet time. He had to pry his mother's hands from adjusting his clothing every second (especially when Kiri announced that he had taken you as his partner.) He sipped on his drink, nodding in acknowledgment when people tried to strike a conversation.

Everything seemed to still and it was like he knew that you had arrived. He twisted his head to where you were and you had already taken his breath from a distance. You stood there, slender frame more outlined with the top you were wearing that seemed to hug your curves just right, outlined by a sliver of light from beyond. You were alight with youth and beauty; skin glowing like honey, eyes bright like a summer sky and lips plump with promise. Your hair danced around shoulders, curls not in your usual braids.

His eyes weren’t the only one following her figure. Everyone’s heads turned as you seemed to search for a familiar face. Lo’ak’s heart swelled in pride knowing you were finding him. With that, he made his way towards you.

The way he called out for you felt surreal– like nothing bad had ever severed your bond. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good himself, paint drawn intricately along his body and accentuating his build. You smiled in return and it seemed to fluster him.

“You look,” His shoulders were stiff, heavy with words he wanted to say, “good. You look good.”

You chuckled as you spun softly, showing off your hard work, “Oh, this old thing?” Lo’ak snickered in reply.

The first few minutes spent in his company were awkward, as none of you knew how to start a conversation. But after a few drinks and some lighthearted japes about the warriors had been shared amongst each other, laughter soon filled the air and from there it was easier to keep talking. You felt more relaxed and he seemed especially eager to share his stories, almost like it had been pent up from lost time.

You couldn’t help but stare. She remembered when times like these had been natural, normal; not a problem between them. Lo’ak looked so carefree again, like before. Her chain of thoughts were cut off when the music mellowed down and the elders persuaded their children to dance.

In the distance, he could feel Kiri’s gaze burning the back of his head. Lo’ak cleared his throat as he stood, nervously cracking his knuckles. Your name rolled out his tongue again– his voice sounded small in his own ears as he asked if she would like to dance with him, but you smiled brightly anyway and answered yes without hesitation.

When you reached the center amidst the sea of other swaying bodies, Lo'ak held out an arm for you tentatively while keeping some distance between them so as not to appear too forward or overbearing. He felt awkward, disgustingly sweaty under his own skin despite the cool air. You had other things in mind; stepping closer and holding your hand out for him, skipping the formalities but maintaining a respectful distance. You squeezed his hand gently and started swaying slowly next to him, encouraging him with soft words of support until Lo 'ak finally began to dance with you.

A slow, floating piece of music played by the people filled their senses as you moved together in soft steps– weaving around each other with a sensual gracefulness only shared between two known lovers. You swayed to the rhythm, moving from one side of their small area to another. Lo'ak opened his arms to you, an invitation that did not need to be verbalized. With your finger lightly trailing along his hand, you stepped closer and fell into step alongside him.

Your fingers fit perfectly against his, like the spaces between were meant to be filled by you. He tightens his hold, rubbing his thumb over yours– he had never craved warmth until your body was close to his.

He looked at you, and it wasn't in a way that could make you feel small; quite the opposite. It was as if he were making you feel invincible, as if his gaze alone was enough to make you soar higher than any Ikran could ever take you. His eyes brimmed with love and compassion– feelings which you have yearned all these years. You felt like he was giving you hope again, even for just that moment when all seemed so still yet full of emotion.

He leaned forward, so achingly close, you could feel his breath on your skin as it lingered just on top of your lips, suspended in time and space. Your heart beat quickly as you closed your eyes expecting a kiss but it never came– Sa'yu's voice called out for Lo'ak. You stepped back abruptly looking away from him, eyes sharply turning to the incoming girl.

It was like your heart had suddenly burst into a million pieces. Sa’yu stood there all pretty, wearing the green shawl you had made for him, along with the multiple gifts you had given. You looked at Lo'ak in disbelief, eyes wide and wet with tears. You were unable to comprehend the spiraling ache in your stomach, feeling as if the air had been knocked from your lungs.

Finally, after countless moments of silent stare downs and tensed up muscles that screamed for action, you turned away from him and sprinted away as fast as possible hoping it would be enough distance from him.

Lo’ak would never change and he’ll never be the boy you held close when you were younger.

For once, he was the one who went searching for you.

He kept calling for you, his voice ringing loudly through the forest and disturbing all of the animals in its vicinity. As you began to feel your breath become choppy and labored, you turned to him with a piercing look and he felt his heart becoming constricted by an unyielding force. His mind raced with emotions as he thought about the severity of the moment, how one gesture could so easily upend everything he thought was set in stone.

“You gave her my gifts?” Your voice cracked and he fought the urge to wince,

Of course he took an out. Of course he had to make it hurt, so when he felt the low snicker that erupted from his lips, he knew there was no turning back already. “What was I supposed to do? Wear those hideous things and let everyone know you have some sort of hold on me?” His tone was mean, unlike his actions just moments ago, “It’s embarrassing— you embarrass me.”

You didn’t let that falter you, not when you had him so close already— not when you almost had him again. “Look me right in the eye and tell me you didn’t feel even the slightest tingle in your heart when you held me near,” You placed your hand right in his chest and you swore you felt his breath hitch, heartbeat racing from your hold. “The dance, we.. we were about to kiss!”

“Jesus Christ, you’re insufferable.” Lo’ak harshly shoved you away, “Kiss? If it weren’t for Kiri, I would not have even danced with you!”

You heard nothing but your sobs and his harsh breathing. After a beat, he spoke again. “What made you think that I would ever be with someone like you?”

“What happened to us?” You asked, almost in a whisper, but when he tried to turn his back and leave, you had gripped on his forearm. “No, for once, finish your shit— just what am I now, Lo’ak?”

“A damn mistake, that’s what you are.” His voice was firm and unrelenting. “So for once, listen when I say I want you gone. Don’t want you anywhere near me, or if you’re that skillful, try to even avoid my line of sight. I don’t know how much more I can take of your clinginess but believe me when I say, I am so sick of you.”

“We were okay! When we were kids, we–” You tried to reply in the same fierceness, only to be cut off again.

“__, we were kids! Did you think that we were gonna stay the same?” He spoke your name so softly before, as if it was meant only for him and not the world around him, but now it sounded so terrible coming out of his mouth.

Another moment of quiet settles over the area. You watch Lo'ak's face contort into someone you didn't know, someone awfully unfamiliar.

“Yeah, maybe it was stupid of me to think that we would be the same.” You had let go of his arm, drying the tears off your face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak would never change and he’ll never be the boy you held close when you were younger.

You were the first to walk away, not even turning your head back to glance at his stiff figure. It took everything in you to take that step forward, knowing that this could be the last time you ever hear his voice again, let alone see him, but you had to.

Something died that night. Something he was so sure he had already buried long ago.

At first, he reveled in the silence. Lo’ak didn’t realize it at first, didn’t realize how you had been avoiding him these days. He found himself near the cliffs again, wanting to clear his head by diving head-first down the water, wanting to feel the same rush of adrenaline his body yearned for. He found a higher platform, more daring and scary. With a sharp inhale, he took a leap.

The shout that ripped out his throat once he emerged from the water was relieving, his heart pounding madly as he tried to scan the area for who knows what.

“__, did you see that?” He shouted and it took him by surprise when he called for you.

You weren’t watching near the edge of the rocks and realization hit him harder than the crashing waves. Lo’ak had successfully pushed you away and now the hollow spot in his chest where you once resided was the only thing left to accompany him. This was what he wanted all his life and now that you were gone, he was left to ponder why.

Perhaps he hated how you drifted away from him, hated how he was hyperaware and thought the worst out of everything.

When you’re young, everyone assumes the worst– like you know nothing, but the very moment you stood up for him when no one did, he knew very well that you’d stick by him for a very long time. Lo’ak liked that idea, loved the thought of hearing your voice everywhere his feet went and your lingering touches. Loved how you could make something simple so intimate like when you’d aimlessly draw on his palm with your fingers, tracing along the lines and stripes or how both you had a favorite star.

You were supposed to be like him– supposed to be with him. Not with his stupid brother who had everything already.

When you were at the age of training with the other kids, he had watched from the sideline as you progressed quickly, more better than him. Nothing could save him from the dropping ache he felt down his stomach from the night where everything had changed. It was innocent, the usual stargazing you both did when it was already eclipse.

You both laid together on the moist grass, fingers pointing to wherever. You were at your usual spot, enclosed with tall trees, plants, and a huge boulder Lo’ak enjoyed climbing with you. It was surrounded with moss and grew flowers over time.

Lo’ak’s body turned to you, “What do you wanna be when you’re older?”

It was like him to ask questions– always the curious boy he is. You didn’t mind it, in fact, you loved that he always asked; made you feel interesting, like something inside you was worth learning. “Mighty?” You hummed as you tried to think again, hand gripping the end of your chin. You turned your body towards him as well, and you could see him waiting eagerly– like what was to leave your mouth was dire.

“Like.. like a warrior! Yeah, a warrior– not much to do here anyway, huh? Someone like Neteyam, maybe. Wanna train hard and make everyone proud.”

Maybe it was foolish of him to think that you’d bring his name up when you talked about your future, but never did he expect his brother’s. Lo’ak felt a wave of epiphany. It was like everything clicked; the stars themselves aligned and the air blew a lighter wind because he swears he saw more clearly that night. How your features accentuated under the bioluminescent plants and how your eyes glowed a brighter hue when you talked about your passion; you were just like the others.

You wouldn’t progress with him weighing you down, knew that you should be hanging out with the other kids. Lo’ak wasn’t stupid to not hear how your name had made its way to the clan’s gossips when they talked about him, how others would exclude you because you were friends with him. You wouldn’t progress with him and he knew it. He’s different and that’s what he’s been told all his life.

“You’ll be the mightiest warrior in the clan, I’ll make sure of it.” He laid on his back again, heart heavy. You couldn’t help but stare at his face while his eyes traveled along the littered stars. Lo’ak was every nice word you could think of, every word you knew– loved him to bits and pieces. To you, he was the embodiment of the sky itself and he owned every goddamn star and planet and it’s evident on his freckled face.

While his plan did work, seeing how you had become top of your class and well known, it hurt him that he stayed just the same– still that young boy that knew nothing better.

What he didn’t know was when drowsiness had overtaken him that night, you still pondered on the question, still contemplated with your words and how you were going to deliver the message you desperately wanted him to understand.

“Wanna stay with you, most of all.” Your fingers fidgeted and your voice started out small, “It’s stupid, but aren’t we stupider? Think we should always stick together.” You tried to be subtle with asking him to stay– to never leave. You were kids, too early for grown up talk and mates, so just how could you tell him that you loved him beyond your years? When you didn’t get an answer, you glanced at his figure only to see how he had fallen asleep, chest softly rising every breath. One day, you’ll get to tell him.

But time had run out and there were no more chances left to give. Lo’ak had exhausted every possibility and all his opportunities were gone. He was sure he had broken your heart beyond repair.

Now if Lo’ak had to speak about love, for all he knows, he’d talk about you.

☆ mauve here! GOD DAMN this is the longest i've ever written and not even for a chapter for my sully fam fic, i'm ashamed. finally wrote something for my sweet lo'ak !! i love him please. thank you so much for requesting this, had to wrack my brain and shit, but i think it's very worth it.

criticisms are welcome! this is such a lengthy post, i can't even tell anymore.

tags: @aonungsmate

#mauve writes ☆#lo'ak sully #lo'ak angst #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x you #lo'ak x reader!#lo'ak x y/n #kiri #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #angst #avatar #avatar angst #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water #loak

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n7punk · 2 months

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“Make Me a Monster” Fic Notes

MMaM was pretty short and this will be too but this fic has some Backstory and I wanna talk about it lmao.

Playlist:

Warriors (AJ Michalka version)

heavy. — Au/Ra

The Creeps — Garbage

LIFE AFTER SALEM — Lil Nas X

The Heartless (original rock version) — PVRIS (kind of hard to get. Was only available on their PARIS EP which isn’t available for streaming last I checked)

Waking Up (Acoustic) — PVRIS (from the acoustic version of the PARIS EP, which is available on youtube)

chaotic — Tate McRae

Hate myself — Tate McRae

R.E.M. — Mothica

Shatter — Against The Current

Frankenstein — Rina Sawayama

My Limb — Hayley Williams

Epilogue Life:

It takes awhile and I could never write this fic in a timespan where it’s complete, but Adora does come to accept her new prosthetics. After the revelations about She-ra and the Heart, she comes to realize this version of them is the most ideal she could get purely because they don’t need maintenance, removal, cleaning etc and she can care for them the exact way she can the rest of her body, which makes them feel a lot more like her body. Her sense of touch isn’t 100%, still losing some texture differentiation and the ability to really feel light touches (she wouldn’t feel a bug walking on her arm for example), but as shown in the epilogue she learns to adapt, and eventually she stops covering up so much either. When she starts to wear her jacket less is when Catra knows she has made real progress. Her prosthetics are magic and never need intervention, which helps.

On Catra’s part, her guilt also takes a lot to process, as does her trauma from her time chipped, which only feeds into her guilt because she feels like she inflicted that same dehumanization on Adora. She comes to focus her energy on “fixing” things instead though, which does lead to some unhealthy burnout, but the worry her friends show for her then does a lot to help her internalize that no, they really don’t hate her.

It’s one of those cases where they take longer to get to a healthy place than in canon, but they do eventually reach it. They get through the worst of it early on, but those effects echo for a long time.

Chapter 1:

⦁ I was pretty worried going into this how people would feel about this, mostly because it’s an incredibly complex situation. Prosthetics are often helpful, but they tend to not be as effective as people hope and even when they are, that still doesn’t mean people don’t look at them and see what they lost sometimes. This situation in particular, where the prosthetics were largely unnecessary and completely forced on her, was painful. Adora is struggling not just with that, but with the very familiar process of trying to get back where she was before an injury/disability, but sometimes that’s just not possible. She’s seeking every piece of functionality and feeling she gets with her prosthetics, but that doesn’t mean she is less for having lost something either. I was worried about people thinking that attitude she has is ableist, when it’s really just a part of the disabled experience. Some people never have it, but I’m definitely someone who has struggled with trying to get things back while knowing I’ll never get it all. It… really sucks, and even when things seem good, there can be a bittersweetness to them. That’s the kind of attitude I was approaching this fic with. There was also the medical abuse angle with her prosthetics. Despite her impossibly advanced prosthetics, this is a very real thing I actually saw conversations about when TotK came out, which is what gave me of the exact phrase for that trigger because I was having trouble naming/describing it in the content warning before that.

⦁ Hordak was working on prosthetic limbs in the event that his deteriorating state made it impossible for him to keep working, using Adora as his guinea pig to test their effectiveness. Shadow Weaver kind of thought there was a chance She-ra could regrow them entirely even if that wasn’t what she was banking on. She actually thought the second accident was a mercy, because Hordak already wanted to test out the set on Adora at that point, so making it “necessary” was supposed to be easier on Adora. Her empathy meter is broken.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Catra just can’t “get” why Adora stayed, but it was kind of impossible for her to leave before that. Part of her already knew Shadow Weaver would be back for more, but she couldn’t let herself do it because it was the “wrong” thing to leave Etheria to the princesses. When she realized the Rebellion wasn’t actually monsters, it was all so much worse because she realized everything — her arms, Catra’s punishments, the horrible way they grew up that she didn’t even really have perspective for — had been for nothing. Catra was right all along. They should have runaway. So she did

⦁ I didn’t intend to title the chapters of this fic since it was so short, but then the “You promise?” line came up and I wanted to make that the chapter title for clarification purposes if nothing else, so I added them in.

Chapter 3:

⦁ I know I’m kind of the “let’s talk about traumatized Catra” person but tbh I still don’t think we give enough weight to having your body literally puppeted while you watch and undergo nightmare hallucinations. Like how the fuck was she functioning after that. So yeah on top of Adora being extra traumatized in this (and Catra additionally having extra trauma from watching that happen), I wanted to go a bit into the echoes of having been under Horde Prime’s control for Catra too. (Other members of the Princess Alliance who were chipped definitely deal with nightmares from this too, but I have a feeling the nightmare scenarios were mostly unique to Catra, especially considering the green pool wasn’t used on the others and by the time Prime had the others under his control he was dealing with a lot of chips and conjuring up nightmare scenarios for them all doesn’t make sense.)

⦁ In this AU there was a lot more immediately obvious awfulness from Shadow Weaver, so even after the portal Glimmer did keep her confined to her room, not that it helped Adora’s mental state much. She was a lot more hated and shunned in Bright Moon and when they were on the run. Catra and Adora still cried watching her die, but after the fact their general attitude is a mixture of “good riddance” and “how could she do all that to us and then just die without ever acknowledging it?” They take her sacrifice as the closest thing they’ll ever guilt to an admission of feeling guilt.

⦁ The thing about Adora never being able to tell if her sensation is back to “normal” is a very real thing when it comes to disability. I remember at one point telling a friend that I couldn’t tell if I wasn’t in pain or was just shouldering it because I didn’t remember what not being in pain felt like anymore.

⦁ If you know my poll, this was “in the engine room.”

Chapter 4:

⦁ In this AU, they have no idea the First Ones Virus could infect She-ra with just the sword since it seemed “obvious” it spread from the robots, to the sword, to her prosthetics, which somehow caused everything to go haywire. Because she was working with her original set that was less advanced, the virus was legitimately latched onto She-ra itself, which also explains why it went away with she reverted the transformation. They just thought changing “bodies” let her purge the virus when she transformed back. The corruption from the First Ones… worm, thing, corrupted Adora’s limbs similarly to how the virus took over her, only with green instead of red, completely changing the colors of her arms and legs and then slowly creeping up her veins. It was gnarly.

⦁ Entrapta just has a better connection with Catra and was looking to her for an answer, but a small incline of the head was their signal back in the Horde that she should really just agree with whoever she’s talking with. She almost never paused to notice it, but Catra was trying her best (and failing) to keep her out of trouble.

Original Outline:

Originally this AU was supposed to be longer, starting when Adora first lost her limbs, then skimming through scenes throughout the series, until finally landing on Darla. That was just an extra 2-3 chapters probably, but 1) god that’s too much angst. It kept me from writing it for like 9 months because I didn’t want to do it, 2) the balance just wasn’t there? Everything got “minute-to-minute” once they were on Darla, with entire chapters dedicated to it, where as the previous chapters were scattered moments taking place over literal years. This did mean I lost some ideas that were supposed to take place in the war and such (the princess prom scene, for example), but it’s still better for it.

I started to write that longer version of it back in 2022(!) but only worked on it for two days to about 2k before I was like this is not vibing and dropped it. When I picked it back up with the shorter timeline in mind, I wrote 70% of this fic in one sitting back in September, but then I got kind of stuck on their reconciling conversation and I think it was just a little too much angst for me then so I didn’t come back to it the next day. I’ve opened it occasionally since then to glance over but it just wasn’t clicking until this week. I edited what I had and wrote the rest of the fic in two days once I was there, though. I am proud of this fic but it’s definitely a very emotional one so it kind of has to happen in bursts like that. I’m glad to have finally gotten it out now, as rocky as getting from idea to completion was. I had the idea November 14th 2022, wrote most of it September 4th 2023, and finally finished it March 9th 2024.

Upcoming:

Start Your Engine ;)

#MMaM #fic notes #ficmeta

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hd-fan-fair · 6 months

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FIC: Half Sick of Shadows

Title: Half Sick of Shadows Creator: Anonymous Prompt:#176 Draco’s Career: Dragon Tamer Harry’s Career: Weaver Rating: Explicit Warnings/Content Notes: Implied/Referenced Past Self-Harm, Fuckbuddies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Cottage Core Vibes, Tattooed & Scarred Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Redemption, Pining Harry Potter, Parseltongue Kink, Light Dom Draco/Sub Harry, Begging, Praise Kink, Anal Fingering, EWE, Fluff and Angst Summary: Harry and Draco have been sleeping together for months, and it's fine. It's enough for Harry.

But when things finally start to feel like the more Harry's been hoping for, a strange tapestry project has him worrying he won't ever get the chance.

Or: the one with sheep, dragons, and a whole lot of weaving metaphors. Word Count: 39,781 Creator’s Notes: My writing buddy deserves all the love and thanks I have in my heart, and I hope we never talk to each other about sheep again.

( Half Sick of Shadows )

#drarry #drarry fic #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco malfoy/harry potter #hd career fair

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aller-geez · 4 months

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Get to know: Kriia Thomas

26 // she/her // bisexual // Elven Fox / Raccoon hybrid Shifter (& Shadow Weaver)

Full name: Kriia Delilah Thomas

Nickname: KD, Krii

Date Of Birth: July 31st

Big Three: Leo 🌞, Aries 🌙, Virgo ↗️

Physical Appearance —

Age: 26

Eye Color: Deep Purple

Hair Color: Crimson

Weight: 135 lbs

Height: 5’8

Race: Elvish, Fox & raccoon hybrid shifter, from a clan of Shadow Weavers

Distinguishing Marks or Characteristics: one red x tattoo on the outer corner of each eye, and another one on each hip, two sets of white lines like war paint on her cheeks, and a white line from her forehead (hairline) to the tip of her nose, all tattoos

Personality —

Greatest Strength: shadow weaver abilities handed down by her clan, allowing her to both manipulate and control the shadows.

Greatest Weakness: her reputation as a promiscuous party girl often leaves her peers unable to really take her seriously.

Soft Spot: Rexar & Remi

Mannerisms: typical Tsundere personality. Isn’t shy at all, and tends to be rather loud and animated from the start. Only ever softens and shows her vulnerability around people if they’ve earned her trust.

Miscellaneous Trivia —

started out as Remington’s dealer in high school, and ended up dating him for a brief period before realizing he was only with her for the drugs, and broke up with him. They didn’t speak for a year, but reconnected again and became best friends quickly, trauma bonding with one another.

Her father died of a sudden brain aneurysm when she was 15, and she continued living in his house, secretly paying his mortgage and the rest of the bills until she turned 18.

Even if she lives with Rexar in one of his families many estates, she refuses to be reliant on him, and insists she pays rent and her share of the bills. Works at a strip club to support herself, as well as selling marijuana from Rex.

Sneeze Content —

ALLERGIES

None~

How severe are they?

N/A

Do they get sick often?

No, she typically has a great immune system, although she’s into contagion with her boyfriend, and will usually pick up any illness he has.

How bad is it usually?

Typically picks up the flu if anything, and tends to be more reclusive even towards Rex. Hides away in her room in a nest of blankets and usually doesn’t like to be bothered or babied much. Has had to adjust her habits after moving in with Rex, and allows him to take care of her /sometimes/

Do they stifle?

Always, unintentionally

How loud are their sneezes?

Very quiet, although her buildups can be rather vocal

What do they sneeze into?

Usually they come out so quickly she doesn’t have time to cover and just directs her rapid stifles down towards her chest, but if she has warning, her hands.

How often do they sneeze?

Often! Despite not having allergies, her nose is extremely sensitive and can be triggered by almost anything. Temperature changes tend to set her off the most~

How many times do they sneeze in a fit?

5-6 is typical, although they’re so gentle and quick that they all sort of run together.

Do they have build-ups or are they sudden?

Vocal, hitchy buildups are common, although false starts are just as common so she doesn’t ever use them as foreshadowing.

Do they sneeze in public?

Sure, she isn’t shy :3 even makes snz wavs and videos with/for Rexar

Some examples of their sneezes?

K’gxnnshh!

hhh’nGNxxt!

Ht’tchkt!

Hihh’gxxxnt!

Backstory —

Coming soon~

Reference Sheet —

Coming soon~

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catras-witchy-girlfriend · 1 year

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Finally Free | Catra x Reader

Content Warning: Meltdowns, self doubt, self destructive thoughts, no gendered pronouns used for reader but Catra does refer to them as "princess"

"Catra! You have to stop!" Adora shouted from the pillar she was tied to.

Catra was unhinged, breaking apart at the revelation that Shadow Weaver had abandoned her for Adora. That Shadow Weaver, the monster who raised her, got a happy ending and she was still stuck in this hell hole!

"I-its always the same with you, Adora! Isn't it? I have to do this! I have to do that! But this time, I'm getting what I want!"

Your heart was racing as you processed it all from the side. You felt lost and scared as the portal frame glitched and sparked. Saying that it looked unstable would be an understatement.

"Catra! If you turn that portal on everyone will die-"

Your heart sunk.

Was Adora telling the truth?

Why would she lie?

This...this isn't a good idea.

"C-catra..." Your voice trembled under the weight of the tension in the air, so you cleared your throat and tried again: "Catra! W-what if she's right? W-we'll all-"

"I-I don't care!" Catra hissed, her chest rising and falling fast as though she was hyperventilating. "I don't care! I don't care if the whole world ends I-I..." Catra turned to Adora and growled, "I won't let you win!!! Not again!"

Catra grabbed the lever but before she could pull it, you rushed up and grabbed it yourself.

"What are you doing, Cadet!?"

"I..." Your head was spinning as though it was trying to predict every outcome. Catra looked so lost, scared, angry. Her thoughts were screaming so...you tried to whisper, "I don't know but...I-I'm scared Catra..."

You put your free hand on top of hers that held the lever and allowed yourself to break into a pout as your face twisted in concern, "P-please Catra, w-what if she's right?" You asked again.

"I don't care-!"

"Everyone is going to die..."

"No, I won't let you or Adora get in my head again!"

"Catra, that means Entrapta will die..."

"She-"

"It means Scorpia will die..."

"Stop it, C-cadet!!"

"It...it means I would die..."

"Y/n..."

"Y-you...you will die..."

She laughed bitterly and hissed, "Who cares!!! I don't care if I die!!! I don't care!!"

"I CARE!" You raised your voice for just a moment as you grabbed her shoulder and then whispered, "Catra please...I don't want to lose you either..."

"S-she can't-" Catra turned her head to look at Adora but you gently pulled her face back to yours.

"Don't look at her," you whispered. Despite your nerves, you tried to stand tall. Your voice was warm and welcoming, "Just look at me, Catra...please."

"S-shadow Weaver left...me...for her!" Catra hissed, "Adora left for people she barely knew for a day!!"

Her voice was breaking as her overly exhausted body began to shake, but she was trying so hard to keep up her tough facade.

"I know...and...I-I'm so so sorry, kitten," Your nickname for her slipped through your lips before you could really stop it, even though you weren't supposed to call her that in public. "But...that's their loss!"

You smiled through your tears, "You don't even see it do you? Look at all you've done, Catra? If it weren't for you, the horde would've crumbled years ago! You...you're the best force captain the horde has ever had!"

Catra whimpered so softly it was hardly audible, "I-its not enough! It's not enough, Y/n!!"

You thought for a split moment, weighting your words carefully, "W-what do you want, kitten?"

"I want to see Adora fail-!"

"No." You said sternly, "You're more than who you were to Adora! You're more than what Shadow Weaver says! What do you want! You! Forget Adora, forget Shadow Weaver, they don't matter, you YOU matter!"

Her beautiful multicolored eyes widened in response.

She was silent for a moment before a single tear fell down her cheek, then another and another and she began to shake, "No...no I don't..."

She looked back up at you: distraught, lost, and broken. "We both know it's true, Y/n...I...I don't matter!"

"You matter to me!" You exclaimed. You began tearing up as you realized what Catra really needed. "C-catra...listen to me, because it's very very important, okay?"

You took a deep breath, "Catra...I love you."

For a moment she looked shocked before her jaw set and she hissed, "No you don't."

Your heart sunk, "Yes, I do."

"No!" She growled, "Stop it! You don't love me, h-how could you-?"

"I-I didn't tell you because...because I was afraid you'd...I don't know...you'd hate me or that you wouldn't want to be friends anymore." You looked up at her, "but I'm not afraid anymore...I can't be...because you need to know it."

You squeezed her hand, "Y-you need to know that there is someone out there who loves you. You need to know that you've made my life better just by being in it, kitten!"

"S-stop..."

"I know...I know it's a lot, but...I'm not saying it because I want something from you. Y-you d-dont owe me anything. You don't have to say anything. You don't have to feel the same, Catra."

You smiled warmly, "I'm only telling you because it's true. No strings attached. I just...I need you to know that...I want you in my life, kitten!" You giggled through your tears, "I need you to know that you matter to me! So listen to me...listen to me and take it in..."

"...I love you..."

"...I love you, kitten...and-"

You slipped your hand off of hers that was holding the lever and backed away, "-I trust you...."

She looked between you and the lever. Her face was distorted with distraught as she looked to Adora and then to the lever.

You inhaled sharply as you saw her go to turn the portal on-

-but then her eyes found yours and she froze.

Finally, the fog began to fade, and she saw you, truly saw you. You looked scared, shaken, desperate but...hopeful. You had so much hope for her and so much love and care it practically screamed out for her to finally see it.

Catra's eyes watered again as suddenly everything made sense. The way you always tended to her every need, the way you always tried to make sure she was healthy, the way you were always by her side, the way your face would turn red when she teased you, the way you always defended her, the way you called her different pet names, the way you always reached for her hand, and the way you always came to her when you were scared.

You loved her...

Her head was still too foggy to say for sure if she felt the same, but she knew one thing without a doubt. She cared about you. She really did...

...so she shut down the portal and fell to her knees sobbing.

As soon as she shut it off you ran back up to her and held her in your arms. You didn't care about anything or anyone else in the moment. Adora, Hordak, the princesses they didn't matter, all that mattered was Catra.

You hid her face behind your arm, so she could fall apart without the fear of everyone watching. You nuzzled your face in her hair as you whispered gently, "It's gonna be okay, kitten, I promise. I'm so proud of you..."

Her claws unknowingly dug through your sleeve and into your arm, but you didn't mind, infact you hardly even noticed.

"I'm sorry...for everything."

"it's okay," you whispered back to her, stroking her hair softly, "we can worry about that later, but right now just...just exist with me, okay?"

"Thank you, Catra," Adora butted in as she strained against the cords that kept her down, "you did the right thing-"

Catra scoffed and hissed at her, "Save it, I didn't do it for you..."

She then looked at you as though she wanted to say something but seemed to stop herself.

You smiled and continue stroking her hair and then begin to clean the tear tracks from her cheeks with the end of your sleeve.

Hordak began walking to Adora and grabbed her by her face to force her attention to him, "Don't for a second think you've won, Shera. Prime already knows where we are, and when he gets here, Etheria will be at my feet."

"L-lord Hordak, what's our next move?" Catra asks as she dusted herself off and stood tall beside you.

He snapped around to her and you knew nothing good would follow. "Our next move? No. You disobeyed me, you shut down the portal before it could bring us to big brother, you are a failure-"

Your face twisted with anger, "Are you joking?" You scoff, "Catra is the best force captain the horde has ever had, if it wasn't for her the princesses would have won years ago!"

"I did not give you permission to speak, cadet-"

"-and I didn't ask for it!"

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and quickly you realized you had signed a bill you weren't certain you could pay.

Hordak began marching up to you, "How dare you speak to me like that, cadet!" He spat as he continued "You are below me, you are insignificant, you are nothing!"

You started to tremble as you stood but tried to stand as tall as you possible, but then as Hordak raised his blaster on his arm towards your face, Catra kicked his arm down to the floor and ripped a glowing pink diamond from his armor that started to weaken him.

"C-catra?"

"We have to go-"

"What?"

She shoved the diamond in the small satchel attached to her belt and ran past you, grabbing your hand to pull you along. "We have to leave before he gets back up!"

"W-what about Adora?" You asked nervously.

Catra looked back for a moment before shaking her head, "The princesses will come and save her, trust me, but us?" She squeezed your hand as she hurriedly lead you to the hover scooters before turning around to face you, "No...no one is going to come for us...we need to protect ourselves so please..."

Catra hopped on the vehicle and turned it on before hesitantly holding out her hand to you, "trust me..."

You smiled warmly as you looked into her brilliant yellow/blue eyes. Your heart warming in your chest as you confidently took her hand and she helped you on the floating ride.

You wrapped your arms around her waist and told her, "I always have, kitten, and I always will..."

She opened her mouth to say something until you both jumped from hearing Hordaks raging scream and saw the distant sight of on coming princesses.

"Wanna finally ditch this place, princess?"

"Thought you'd never ask, force captain~"

With a soft chuckle Catra revved up the engine and you both sped off into the whispering woods.

Neither of you quite knew where you were going, Catra simply kept driving and you trusted her to get you both somewhere safe.

You sighed and laid your head down on her shoulder. "Are you scared?" You asked her quietly.

There was a moment of silence before you felt her shoulders drop from their tense position, "Honestly? A little..."

You nodded before squeezing her midsection assuredly, "Me too...but...no matter what happens next...I'm with you, Catra..."

She simply nodded her head in response until she was met with a large clearing in the woods.

Catra then lifted her arm behind your head and pulled you closer to her to place a soft kiss on your temple and your cheek.

When you looked up at her with hopeful surprised eyes she smiled at you warmly and said, "Just for the record, I love you too, princess~"

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fr4nkie0stein · 29 days

Note

Catra x force captain reader

force reader was kind of treated like Catra with Shadow Weaver. Although Shadow Weaver just hated the reader. Catra is kind of confused when she hears how badly reader was treated.

Like, what? You somehow have more trauma then me?

Reader just has lots of scars on her arms and back because of how much Shadow Weaver beat her

You dont have to do this if your not comfortable! Have a nice day :]

No worries, I feel completely comfortable with writing something like this! You have a nice day too ♡♡

Hurt

Pairing: Catra x fem force captain reader

Summary: you and Catra bond over the horrible ways Shadow Weaver treated you both

Content warning(s): childhood trauma, mentions of physical and verbal abuse, talk of scars from said abuse, please don't read if this will trigger you in any way

××

Ever since you were young, Shadow Weaver used and treated you like her own personal punching bag. Whether she was upset over a defeat for the Horde, struggling with her powers, or having to deal with Hordak's criticism, she always turned to you to be the one she could take it out on.

Although it happened for so long, you never told anyone about your abuse. You weren't really close with anybody in the Horde, and you also didn't see the point in it. I mean, it's not like anybody could do much to help.

As a force captain, you often met up with the other force captains to train together. That's where you first met Adora when she used to belong to the Horde, and that's also where you met Catra.

You'd heard a lot about her from the short time Adora had been a force captain, but she was much more intimidating than you expected her to be. You would soon find she was also just as fragile.

The two of you trained together often, but you didn't usually change together in the locker rooms because you didn't know each other that well. One day while you were changing shirts, Catra walked in and saw some of the scars you had on your back from Shadow Weaver's beatings.

"Woah, what happened to you?" She blurted out, not really one who cared for others feelings all that much. "Was it one of the princesses that did it?"

You sighed, knowing she was bound to find out sooner or later. As lying would only make things worse, you stuck with telling the truth. "Uh, no. They were from Shadow Weaver."

Catra's ears immediately flattened back against her head at the mention of her mentor's name. "Shadow Weaver did that to you? But... Why?"

Shrugging, you put your dirty clothes back in your locker and shut it. "Dunno. I guess she figured it'd be easiest to take her rage out on a little kid who couldn't fight back." You leaned up against the locker, shoving your hands in your pockets. "She doesn't do it anymore, though. I think ever since I became a force captain she sort of became scared of me."

Catra scoffed, rolling her eyes some. "Wow, you made Shadow Weaver of all people scared of you? I must admit, that's pretty impressive." She crossed her arms, her gaze falling to the floor before she spoke up again in a much smaller voice. "She hurt me, too. It was mostly verbal, but it didn't hurt any less."

You nodded at her words, your eyes softening as you watched her. "Yeah, I get that." It's quiet for a moment before you suddenly say, "Hey, do you wanna... I don't know, maybe hang out some? Maybe we can talk about some plans for our next attack against Bright Moon."

The corners of her lips quirked upwards as she looked back up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Yeah, I've got nothing else going on. And you know what, maybe one day the two of us will be in charge, and we can get rid of Shadow Weaver for once and for good."

You smiled back as you walked with her towards the locker room door. "Yeah, maybe."

Fin ××

♡ Send in more requests here ♡

#moxs asks #mox writes #she ra imagines #she ra imagine #she ra x reader #she ra #she ra fic #shera #shera imagines #shera imagine #shera x reader #shera fic #catra #catra imagines #catra imagine #catra x reader #catra fic #she ra catra #shera catra

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catra-come-out · 8 months

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Shadow Weaver: Catra is at that very special age where she only has one thing on her mind.

Scorpia: Boys?

Catra: Homicide.

#hey y'all sorry I've been gone for so long #life happened #and i mean in an ao3 authors note kinda way #but I'm back now so #spop #incorrect spop quotes #she ra and the princesses of power #spop incorrect quotes #incorrect she ra quotes #catra #spop catra #she ra incorrect quotes #she ra spop #spop scorpia #content warning: shadow weaver #shadow weaver

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aprillikesthings · 2 months

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YAY I'M OFF WORK until Monday

IT'S TIME FOR MORE SHE-RA REWATCH

s2 ep6 Light Spinner

just read the synopsis on the wikipedia episode list and Oof this one is going to be hard

Edit: oof I jumped around a lot, including mentions of the bible, my fave art, other cartoons and (predictably, for an episode about Shadow Weaver) my own history as a child abuse survivor and my dad dying. So, uh, you've been warned?

okay

let's do this

do they mention why she covers her face at this point? I forget

okay so true story and totally off topic but I get distracted every time Micah's name is mentioned because my favorite verse of the Bible is from the book of Micah. It's the fave verse of a lot of people lol I'm not unique. But yeah, Micah 6:8:

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord ask of you, But to do justice, and to love kindness, And to walk humbly with your God?

I've half-joked for years now that if enough of your childhood report cards say any variation on "They have so much potential if they'd only apply themselves" you should get diagnosed with ADHD without further questions.

Hordak: why is Shadow Weaver still fucking HERE Catra: bc I like getting a chance to taunt her >:3 I MEAN, uh, she's a good source of information? Hordak: she needs to get to Beast Island, I don't like having her around she knows too damn much Catra: but she can't actually do anything without her fancy-ass magic rock

*power goes out*

Entrapta: ha ha WHOOPSIE Catra: wtf are you DOING

Hordak: stop bothering my girlfriend Catra: wtf??? Entrapta: Entrapta: uhhhhh did I interrupt something Hordak: no it's fine bb don't worry about it <3 Hordak: ANYWAY Catra get that witch to tell you shit and then GET RID OF HER or I'LL GET RID OF YOU Catra: >:(

In all seriousness I remember watching this episode and thinking: lol omg are they ship-baiting this???

And then the usual culprits did the "yOu cAnT sHiP tHaT" and I started reblogging content of it out of sheer fucking spite. Also at least one writer for the show is like "y'all Entrapta is in her late 20's/early 30's" and--wait hold on I know there's screenshots from twitter of the same person:

But yeah stuff in later seasons made me cackle with laughter because it's not even subtle. At all.

Anyway you gotta be careful about spite-shipping. That's how I ended up having a lot of feelings about Jaspis from SU, ha ha WHOOPS

jfc this and a previous line (talking about "gifted students") and it's like...why are y'all having her quote all the shit my teachers said trying to encourage me and only traumatizing me.

mmmm don't like that

I know I keep harping on how textbook of an abuser she is, but I love that the clues were there already. This is the kind of shit abusers do! Look at how controlling and possessive she is, but in a way that outsiders will just see as "she's a very invested/involved teacher."

gahhhhhh

plot plot plot the Horde is already invading, the Princesses are useless against them, our leaders aren't doing SHIT, anyway the sorcerers are meeting tomorrow and I hope they let me boss them around into agreeing with me

this shot of the moons over Etheria reminds me of one of my fave artists--these pieces are layered resin, and I keep meaning to buy some prints of theirs. (One day I want to own an original. ;_; I love the way they use colors and the layers and just the daydreamy vibes of so much of their work.)

(More of their stuff here)

plot plot Scorpia and Catra talk about how Catra doesn't want to send Shadow Weaver to Beast Island and Scorpia is surprised Beast Island is real and not a scary story they tell kids

Catra: but but but Shadow Weaver can tell us shit!

Scorpia: anyway I thought you hated her??? Catra: you wouldn't understand >:(

I understand. I hate that I understand it. UGH.

plot plot Light Spinner tries to convince the sorcerers that the Horde is a threat, and points out they've taken the Black Garnet, and says let's cast a big spell together and GET SOME POWERRRR

Sorcerer dude: that spell is FUCKED, absolutely not [for real the way he talks about it sounds kiiiinda like The One Ring] Light Spinner: fuck yOU

OH so I didn't quote it but Catra says the same line earlier, about Hordak: "After everything I've done he still doesn't trust me"

Catra is trying to save Shadow Weaver's life and Shadow Weaver is like...meh. But hey can you bring me an old trinket that's of sentimental value? I will never ask you to do anything else.

[I am Suspicious.]

back in time, Light Spinner manipulates Micah into doing the Big Scary Spell with her, they accidentally unleash a hORRIFYING MONSTER

(I'm suddenly reminded of the last two episodes of Gravity Falls. It never ceases to amuse me that Alex Hirsch was told he couldn't do all kinds of totally innocent things, but he could have, well, the shit in the last two episodes. I remember telling my then-boyfriend that the intro of those last episodes had shots that looks like actual nightmares I've had)

Oh also the flailing disembodied hands remind me of some of the early episodes about the Cluster in Steven Universe. Remember Garnet finding some of the early fusion experiments made with broken bits of gems?

Aaugh.

(Also remember when Peridot was still kinda spooky and scary?)

OKAY SORRy wow I'm distracted tonight.

yeah that didn't work so great

And that's what messed up Shadow Weaver's face, and she throws a fit at everyone and calls them "weak" and uhhh murders at least one of them?

face-touching! the only way she's able to show any affection at all...but only ever to manipulate people in her charge. anyway she disappears after that.

Catra is not going to get a satisfying answer. One of the reasons it was a relief when my dad died was that I could let go of ever having any hope of him explaining to any kind of satisfaction why he did what he did. (He did apologize, once; in the most manipulative and self-serving way possible, when I was 35--at the time I thought maybe it meant something, but eventually I realized he'd actually made things worse, because he'd taken away any belief I might've clung to that he didn't know any better at the time.)

In any case, Shadow Weaver's answer is basically "You're just like me, and my life was hard, so why should yours be easy?" Like that old line about how people who suffer through hard things have one of two reactions: Either "why shouldn't you also suffer, you're not better than me," and "nobody should have to suffer like I did."

;_;

I understand Catra so much. You still want that love. You can't not. You know you won't get it, not the way you need it, and you settle for a facsimile.

I'm gonna throw myself into the sun

And then we go back in time to see the arrival of baby!Adora, like as an actual infant. They don't say where she got her.

Hordak: "I arrived too late. I found something but it's useless. Put it with the other infants in the infirmary."

"It." bleh.

Shadow Weaver: hmmm that's one powerful baby. Hordak: ugh, weirdo. You can have it. But ffs it's being noisy take it somewhere else.

Shadow Weaver's just like: oh sweet I get to start from scratch with this one.

Anyway under her tray of food that Catra brought her was her sorcerer's guild...thing. That she asked for earlier in the episode. Which means Catra did bring it to her.

And Shadow Weaver's gone.

This explains part of why Catra gets worse for the next like two seasons. She tried to extend a kindness to Shadow Weaver--keeping her from being sent to Beast Island, giving her the trinket thing, offering to work together since Shadow Weaver thinks they have so much in common, right? But it bites her in the ass so bad.

So why should she be kind to anyone? When has anyone been kind to her? When has Catra being kind to anyone ever improved her life or made it easier?

But yeah the trinket had some kinda magic dust in it and Shadow Weaver escaped, and Catra had a (very understandable) meltdown about it.

Back in Bright Moon, the Best Friends Squad is using the moon alignment to get a clearer signal on Bow's track pad: "Serenia. Portal. Mara." AAAAND end of episode.

Yeah I was right. That was a rough one.

#april rewatches spop #light spinner

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baggebythesea · 1 year

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Princess Glimmer and the Day of Many Choices: The Power of Love and Evil (8/?)

Content warning: Child abuse and abuse in general

Adora watched the sky with despondent expression. The rush of fighting had died down so now she had time to feel inadequate again. Also, she hadn't got any headpats from Glimmer.

She sighed.

The sky was full of stars. Somewhere out there, on one of them, was Catra. Adora wondered if she felt very lonely. If she was scared. If she… if she maybe thought of Adora at all?

She knew it was futile, but part of her couldn't stop hoping that maybe Catra could still be reached? That maybe there was a way to save her from all the violence and destruction.

For the thousandth time Adora cursed herself for destroying the sword. If only she had her powers, she would be able to DO something. To keep her friends safe. To turn the tide against Prime. To (she allowed herself to dream for just a moment) maybe even save her cat.

Adora felt really vulnerable. This was a moment when she really could use a friend to support her and give her good advice.

"Heeeeeello Adora," Shadow Weaver smarmed as she slimed up to the vulnerable girl standing all alone under the stars. "I'm here to support you and give you 'good' advice."

"Go away," Adora muttered without much heat.

"Looking at the stars?" Shadow Weaver guessed, following Adora's gaze. "Say, I wonder on which one Catra is?"

"Like you care," Adora muttered.

"Of course none of us care about Catra," Shadow Weaver drawled. "After all, you left her behind to be tortured by Hordak… what is it to you if Horde Prime kills her?"

"Kills her?" Adora gasped.

"Yeeeeees, I'd imagine he would do that (that's what I always wanted to do, after all)," Shadow Weaver happily smirked. "And quite horribly, I would think."

"N-no," Adora mumbled. "He can't… she'll be useful to him. She always finds a way to survive."

"That's true," Shadow Weaver happily agreed. "Maybe he just torture her first." She sighed, a nostalgic little sigh. "That girl has SO high pain tolerance, after all."

"No!" Adora gasped. "We have to…" her voice trailed off.

"Save her?" Shadow Weaver scoffed. "Of course you can't save her. Not after you let her kill Queen Angella - you know, Glimmers mom? The woman who took you in and who you allowed to die in the portal reality? They will never let you save Catra now."

"That's not…" Adora mumbled. "I didn't…"

"It's OK," Shadow Weaver said with falce sympathy in her voice. "It's not like you didn't let everyone else down as well. Too bad, though. If you hadn't squandered the power of She-Ra you might have been able to DO something. To keep your friends safe. To turn the tide against Prime. To maybe even save your cat."

"…my cat…" Adora whispered with small voice.

"Yeeeeeees," Shadow Weaver drawled and draped an arm around Adora. "She always loved you, you know. Always hoped you would save her from herself. Take her with you, hold her and protect her from all the eeeeevils of the world."

"…she did?" Adora asked, eyes round.

"Yeeeeees," Shadow Weaver drawled. "Of course, by now she has probably met someone else. There must be sooo many heroic blonde space-girls out there. Most of them probably haven't betrayed everything they claim to believe in at all!"

"Stop it…" Adora said and closed her eyes, trying to force the sight of Shadow Weaver's gloating smirk away from her brain. She felt her head spin. She knew Shadow Weaver was lying. She knew there wasn't any way Catra could really love her.

Was there?

"…does she really love me?" she asked, not daring to breath.

"Of cooooourse," Shadow Weaver said and kicked a puppy for no reason whatsoever. "But anyway, let's change the subject. How do you think Horde Prime will kill her? I think maybe starting with strangulation and then move on to…"

"NO!" Adora cried, white in her face. "We have to save her."

"Yeeeeees," Shadow Weaver smiled with her entire face. "I'm sooooo fond of the girl, after all. With my help you caaaaan save her. I can help you unleash the power of She-Ra."

"…I lost She-Ra," Adora admitted.

"I can help you get her back," Shadow Weaver said, watching her intently. "All you have to do is to take my hand.

She held out her hand.

I will update this every second day or so. Keep an eye on the "Princess Glimmer and the Day of Many Choices" tag and help decide where the story is going.

You will find part 7 here: https://www.tumblr.com/baggebythesea/709482570306469888/hah-we-have-a-tie-we-have-a-tie-between-the

#spop #adora #shadow weaver #chose your own adventure #Princess Glimmer and the Day of Many Choices

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pupkid · 1 year

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Agere/Petre Catra headcanons

(Agere Adora headcanons, agere Glimmer headcanons)

Mainly regressor!Catra + caregiver!Adora

Content warnings: self harm mention, Shadow Weaver‘s manipulation being mentioned, Catra’s negative feelings towards age regression, negative emotions while regressed; SPOP spoilers

Catra is a flip heavily leaning towards a regressor. She’d like to be a caregiver more but most of the time when it comes to agere she ends up in a regressed state instead.

She tends to regress when overwhelmed, scared, stressed out or when she gets triggered.

She tends to feel very vulnerable and sensitive in her regressed state and prefers to hide from others. Wouldn’t let anyone approach her unless she’s real close with that person.

May cry a lot and hurt herself but also lash out at others.

But inside she just wants to feel safe and be comforted, hugged, soothed…

Her regression is one of her biggest secrets that she guards heavily. Catra tends to think of this as a weakness that she has to eliminate, and yet she just can’t. That frustrates her a lot and oftentimes she hates herself for this. It’s especially true when she’s still in the Horde. She tries hard to repress it all.

Despite this being a secret, it’s likely that Adora and Shadow Weaver know about it.

Shadow Weaver simply knows her well enough to figure it out. SW keeps this a secret and doesn’t reveal it to others simply because SW doesn’t really care. For her it’s just another aspect of Catra’s personality that may or may not be useful to her. SW doesn’t speak of any of this to Catra either. But it’s possible that SW uses this knowledge to manipulate Catra at some point.

Adora also finds out about Catra’s regression. It happens on accident one day when she runs into a regressed Catra who lashes out then cries and apologizes.

Adora may be taken aback by Catra’s actions and hurt at first but she reassures Catra that it’s okay, that happens, no need to cry. Adora doesn’t hold it against Catra, she understands that everyone has bad days and may lash out sometimes and she can see that Catra is sorry.

She hugs Catra tightly while Catra can’t stop talking, a mix of venting and trying to explain what’s happening to her.

When Catra calms down she feels pretty embarrassed and ashamed about the whole thing but she does her best to properly explain her regression to Adora.

This is something new to Adora but she listens and does her best to understand. She thinks it’s nothing to be ashamed about. Catra’s secret is also safe with her and Adora doesn’t tell anyone about this.

Though it still takes a while for Catra to fully trust Adora with this, eventually she starts including Adora in her regression.

Adora starts helping with Catra’s regression, helps her figure out her triggers, find ways to make her comfortable and safe while regressed.

With Adora’s help, over time Catra’s regression becomes more comfortable, it becomes more fun and pleasant, starts feeling like something safe rather than something too vulnerable and shameful for Catra to do.

While it still often happens as a reaction to strong emotions and Catra has to deal with that when that happens, she starts regressing during other times too.

Basically Adora’s help allows Catra to actually explore her regression, learn more about it and herself, just like Adora is learning more about Catra through this.

For example, Catra realizes that she likes chewy things, sometimes she chews her own tail or hands. Pacifiers get chewed up pretty fast!

She likes to play with anything shiny and things that make light noise like small keys.

She also likes to indulge her cat side: running on all fours and having the zoomies, playing with cat toys, rolling around with a toy, meowing.

After Melog enters her life, they often play together like this! Just both of them being two big cats together!

When very regressed and comfortable, Catra lets her guard down and doesn’t talk much if at all, mostly responds in noises, meows, etc.

She also purrs. A lot and loudly.

She lets Adora play with her as if Catra was just a cat, feed her, cuddle her, and read her stories to help her sleep.

Over time Catra figures out that she has caregiver qualities too and realizes she’s a flip even if she still remains mainly a regressor.

Adora isn’t much of a regressor herself, but she allows Catra to take care of her and baby her a little when Catra is in the caregiver mindset. To be honest, Adora finds that pretty enjoyable and she likes that side of Catra. But Adora really likes regressed baby Catra as well, she’s just too cute!

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the-lady-amphitrite · 1 year

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— AMPHI’S MASTERLIST OF MASTERLISTS

last updated: 2nd April, 2024

— notes

✦ unless a fic has an update day listed, updates will happen when i have time to write them. fics with update days are pre-written and scheduled

✦ individual works and series masterlists with smut will be tagged as #nsft and marked with a ♡ below

✦ individual chapters with smut will be tagged as #nsft and have a ♡ next to the chapter name in their respective masterlist

✦ please heed tags and warnings for each masterlist / individual work and consume my content responsibly

✦ reblog to share the fic (even to a sideblog just for your fic reading like i do over on @amphi-reads)

✦ leave a comment if you want when reblogging; you can even write them in the tags!

✦ send an ask (anon is on!) if you want to talk or just scream incoherently at me

✦ to join the taglist for a specific series of work send in an ask, leave a comment, or fill out this google form to be added to my taglist. all requests to join my taglist that do not specify a specific series of work will be added to my general Loki taglist.

OF FIRE AND OF ICE

Loki / f!Half-Asgardian!Reader

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧

in progress

last updated: 10th August, 2023

Once upon a time, soulmates didn’t exist...

Born on Asgard, your life was supposed to just be a mundane life as the daughter of Asgard’s greatest general, Tyr Hymisson. One of easy laughs, a family that you love and that loves you, and friends who you hold dear to your own heart. Someday, even the heart of another to call your own.

... but now they do.

When the time comes, you find your soulmate in the one person you never wanted to. With this match, the life you dreamed of vanishes, the relationships you cherish are now under threat, and everything will unfold in a way none but the Weavers of Fate could ever foresee.

So what will you do for the one you call yours?

If that were not enough, a prophecy hangs over the heads of all Drekasál, the words foretelling of a great threat that is coming. They say the prophecy is about you, and hints at the dangers of what giving away your heart to the wrong person will bring about.

Or is the better question, what won’t you do?

With both your heart, and the life of everyone you love on the line, will you do what is best for them? Or will you follow where your heart leads you?

DREAMS OF FOREVER

Avenger!Loki / f!Avenger!Reader

in progress

last update: 2nd April, 2024

You never thought you would reach this point, but here you are. Trials and tribulations have brought you to this moment, testing and strengthening the love that’s grown between you and Loki. Years in the making, tonight is the night you ask him to be yours forever.

A LOVE SO INFINITE

Avenger!Loki / f!Avenger!Reader

coming soon

For years you have remained in the shadows, working with a small group and doing what you believed was right. Until one day, a favour is called in by your old friend Natasha Romanova. A favour that quickly turns into an offer to be part of something bigger than yourself once more.

Now you're catapulted head first into a life so unlike what you're familiar with. Before, you were just a face in the crowd, not a recognised name. A soldier in the war, not a recognised hero. But beneath the glam and grime that comes with being an Avenger, you find solace in an unlikely place — at Loki's side.

#amphi's masterlists #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x female reader

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nny11writes · 3 years

Link

For I Passed Through the Darkness (and I came out singing)

It wasn’t perfect.

But god if she wasn’t happy.

#Catra #Shadow Weaver #she ra #spop #ends with catradora so if that's not your thing heads up #cw: suicidal ideation #cw: emotional breakdown #cw: psychiatric ward #look I know what my content warnings are but this is actually the happy chapter #a good life doesn't need to be a perfect life #healing isn't linear #we can all use a helping hand from time to time

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n7punk · 2 years

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All Fics Extra #5: Outside of the War: Timeline

I’ve tried to keep track of my timeline in OotW before (poorly, by cutting and pasting each scene into one document in chronological order), but I quickly abandoned that as the series grew. This timeline is my solution to roughly order the scenes in my canon fics. Some of these are more subjective since they are just amorphously around a certain time in my mind and I’ve moved their order multiple times while making this (and could be moved again), but this is at least a rough idea of where it currently stands. I also reordered the series a bit on AO3 while making this because it helped me relate the fics to each other better.

Spoilers for my entire OotW series, obviously, and warnings for mentions of any content that is included in it (including CWs found therein and fic ratings running from G to E). This timeline was first made in August 2021. It is unfinished as the series is ongoing. Last updated 25/01/22.

Notes:

Unindented lines are merely time headers (they are also bold or in larger font). Times ending with “~” are rough estimates. “1 month~ after” might mean “3-5 weeks after”, etc. Numbers lacking ~s are exact. “Don’t Go” is included in this timeline as the series is also canon to it (though obviously I did not write it). If it says “(‘fic title’)” then that bullet point is the entire fic. If it says “(‘fic title’ CH#)” then that bullet point is the only listing for that entire chapter in the fic but other chapters may appear elsewhere in the timeline. If it says “(in ‘fic title’)” then it is a part of the fic, but the fic may appear again in the timeline. “(mentioned in ‘fic title’)” means it isn’t really shown in any fic, just referenced.

Pre-canon:

Age 8: Adora calls Octavia a dumb face and Catra falls in love (Canon)

Catra discovering, testing, and hiding her differences, often with Adora’s help, as a child to young/pre-teen (‘sense-memory’)

The Inciting Incident that started all the “blame Kyle” jokes – never described. Shadow Weaver doesn’t even know all the details because she sincerely does not want to. It is such an in-joke they don’t even need to reference “the Incident” anymore – they just reference Kyle. (in ‘documentations of the perils of women’).

Multiple instances of Adora “crushing” on other strong women and her actually admiring Catra’s strength (in ‘dangerous woman’).

Pre-teen to 18:

Going through puberty and feeling something – just attraction in Adora’s mind – for each other. Both getting hit on by other cadets, Adora being possessive over her “friend”, and Catra knowing she’s straight of jealous (‘jealous sea (comes like waves & i can't breathe)’ CH1).

Age 16-17~: Catra tells Adora about her corner and Adora fantasizes there (in ‘the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you’)

Season 1:

First few days in Bright Moon: Glimmer gifts Adora the wing pin to use to fasten her jacket/belt now that she doesn’t have her badge (in ‘documentations of the perils of women’).

Post Salineas Sea Gate fight, Adora realizes her pain lingers (in ‘markless’).

Seasons 2 & 3:

The portal from Catra’s perspective (‘a story better left forgotten’).

Somewhere after the initial trip to Crimson Waste and before the Horde conquers it in season 4, Catra watches Adora and Huntara spar through a spy drone and gets jealous (in ‘dangerous woman’).

Season 4:

Two weeks~ after ‘Pulse’, Bow asks Adora about her healing factor and her lingering pain (in ‘markless’).

Season 5:

Pre-season 5:

Adora & Scorpia talk about Catra and Scorpia mentions she loves seafood (‘and in her absence’).

Adora sneaks away from camp to fantasize about Catra (in ‘the only heaven i’ll be sent to’).

Week~ on Darla post-Save the Cat and before reaching Etheria again:

Day 1: Save the cat (Canon).

Day 2: Catra hides away, gets chipped removed, goes to dinner and then flees, Entrapta tells her to just try, Adora carries her to bed and they sleep together (Canon: EP6: Taking Control & ‘Don’t Go’).

Day 3: morning/breakfast Catra realizes the truth of Adora’s hero complex (in ‘markless’). Afternoon they stretch together and then Catra gets worked up and deals with it in her room (‘the beginning is the end’ CH1).

A few days in: Adora cries in the bowels of the ship because so much has changed between her and Catra (in ‘dangerous woman’ CH 2).

Post canon:

Walk back to Bright Moon: Adora’s lingering pain from dying starts catching up with her and Catra notices (in ‘markless’).

Returning to Bright Moon the night of Prime’s defeat: ‘the words that need to be said’.

Day 1 post-canon:

Morning: Catra & Adora cuddle (‘vocalizations in the moments in between’). Adora takes a shower and shows Catra all the fancy shower stuff in Bright Moon (in ‘return from civility’).

Day: Adora is in pain and Catra can tell. Catra is ordered to sit on her to keep her still (mentioned in ‘markless’). Princess Alliance meeting where Catra sits in Adora’s lap and helps (in ‘she is your eyes, you are her heart).

Night: Adora tells Catra about everything that happened in the Heart and her vision of the future (mentioned in ‘i still know the new you’).

Day 2 post-canon:

Adora drags Catra from breakfast and kisses her as She-ra. They talk about going a bit slower and being careful with She-ra (in ‘the other half of you (exposure therapy)’).

Few days post-canon:

Catra gets overwhelmed and Adora takes her to the gardens (in ‘and i’ll be home’).

3 days post-canon: Catra makes up the Fright Zone reconstruction project proposal as a peace offering to Scorpia and presents it to her on the morning of day 4 (in ‘in her shadow’).

Adora turns into She-ra in a Princess Alliance meeting (in ‘the other half of you (exposure therapy)’).

Catra finds her way into the kitchen so she isn’t reliant on chefs (mentioned in ‘at beck & call’).

1~ week post-canon:

Catra proposes the Fright Zone reconstruction project and gets it approved in a meeting. Apologizes to Scorpia that night (in ‘in her shadow’). Day after, they go to survey the Fright Zone for the first time (mentioned). That night, Catra finds Adora being good and resting in their room to heal (in ‘markless’).

Catra disappears into the rafters, Adora worries, and she agrees to warn her when she disappears (in ‘and i’ll be home’).

Glimmer teleports in on them making out for the first time (in ‘golden string tying us through everything’).

Catradora & Glimbow leave the castle to take care of a rogue Horde bot. It’s the first fight for She-ra post-Heart (in ‘the other half of you (exposure therapy)’).

Adora admits her first fantasy of Catra back in ‘the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you’ (in ‘to have & hold’).

2~ weeks post-canon:

Catra wants attention and climbs into Adora’s lap during a hang out (‘undivided attention’).

Safe words established (in ‘to have & hold’).

3~ weeks post-canon:

Catra wakes up from a nightmare and climbs the castle, Adora panics when she can’t find her (in ‘and i’ll be home’).

Shower scene & talking about ‘when the time is right’ for their first time (in ‘to have & hold’).

Glimmer notices how fast they’re going through haircare products and Catra gets stuff for her fur ordered (in ‘return from civility’).

1 month~ post-canon:

First time (‘in these arms’). Making out under a tree in the garden and getting caught same day (in ‘golden string tying us through everything’). Few days after: discussion of their jealousy in the Horde (‘jealous sea (comes like waves & i can't breathe)’ CH2)

Catra, Adora, & Glimmer shopping trip for new clothes. Catra admits her colourblindness (‘i still know the new you’).

Catra’s new furcare supplies arrive (in ‘return from civility’). In two weeks, she’s softer than ever.

Day of Catra backsliding healing but trying her best with Melog’s help, bickering a little with Swift Wind when he visits. Mentions of Bow making a proposal that evening for a plan to distribute tech, including She-ra installing large arrays. The plan is still being pitched. Mentions of Entrapta bringing up “re-integrating” Hordak in the last meeting, but for now he is doing his community service research out of Dryl. (‘dawn after the long dark’).

Scorpia brings up Shadow Weaver’s garden, Catra tells them to dismantle it (in ‘return from civility’).

Melog finds the observatory where they decide to make their den (in ‘make a home’).

Catra plays with Adora’s hand using her tail while she’s trying to work (in ‘return from civility’).

Catra gives Melog a pillow for their den (in ‘make a home’).

Catra shreds a pillow kneading (in ‘return from civility’).

Catra tells Adora why Adora wasn’t supposed to talk about the scent marking (in ‘return from civility’).

Almost hooking up in the gym, interrupted by Bow (in ‘golden string tying us through everything’). Few days after, almost hooking up on the war table, interrupted by Frosta (rip) (in ‘golden string tying us through everything’).

Catra requisitions her lute (in ‘implications’). Gets it a few days later.

2~ months post-canon:

First Adora topping (and subbing lbr) time a bit after (in ‘to have & to hold’).

Making out in Fright Zone closet while Catra’s decommissioning it, interrupted by Rogelio (in ‘golden string tying us through everything’). Adora has her new clothes from the tailor. Scorfuma had their first time that morning (mentioned).

Melog shows Catra their den and collection of soft gifts (in ‘make a home’).

Micah discovers Melog’s den and asks Catra about it (in ‘make a home’).

She-ra helps Catra’s first baking attempt on her own (in ‘at beck & call’).

3 months-5 months~ post-canon:

She-ra and Catra go out to a small village for a day to help them rebuild (in ‘the other half of you (exposure therapy)’).

Glimmer tells Catra about tokens and she realizes she doesn’t have one to give (in ‘a token of our love’).

Catra breaks a string on her lute and realizes others can hear her play (in ‘implications’).

She-ra grows some plants in a field (in ‘at beck & call’).

Melog brings Adora to their den so she can draw (in ‘make a home’).

Week of getting interrupted, (mentions of Entrapta working on upgrading Darla for their road trip), finally getting to be together (in ‘golden string tying us through everything’).

Adora goes away for two weeks to work on rebuilding Salineas. Catra bonds with Bow and Glimmer during the time (‘anti-isolation’).

Catra plays her lute for Glimmer & Adora (in ‘implications’).

She-ra installs a large tech array and Catra avoids her (in ‘the other half of you (exposure therapy)’).

Catra agrees to duet with Bow (in ‘implications’).

Adora turns into She-ra for a net-ball game (in ‘the other half of you (exposure therapy)’ and ‘at beck & call’).

Catra has She-ra in bed for the first time (in ‘the other half of you (exposure therapy)’).

She-ra and Catra play tag (in ‘at beck & call’).

Adora accidentally subs and then they talk about doing it on purpose (‘peace in letting go’ CH1).

Catra and Adora try proper d/s for the first time (‘peace in letting go’ CH2).

She-ra breaks a window playing ball (in ‘at beck & call’).

Adora turns into She-ra so Catra can knead on her (in ‘at beck & call’).

Catra has a panic attack during sex with She-ra (‘red’).

Adora turns into old She-ra so Catra can knead (in ‘to lie with the enemy’).

5-6 months~ post-canon:

Adora & Catra talk about tokens (in ‘a token of our love’).

Drunken “Glitra confession” at girl’s night (‘chardonnay’).

6-8 months~ post-canon:

Adora gives Catra her pin (in ‘a token of our love’).

She-ra becomes a jungle gym for kids at a festival (in ‘at beck & call’).

BFS goes on 2 week out journey in Darla, gone for a month, as an exploratory mission before their big road trip (in/mentioned in ‘the beginning is the end’).

9-12 months~ post-canon:

Adora turns into She-ra for a ball after ripping her dress (in ‘at beck & call’).

Glimbow take Catra and Adora shopping secretly to surprise each other with their outfits for the annual peace celebration ball (in ‘she is your eyes, you are her heart’).

1 year post-canon:

Glimbow engagement, 1 year annual peace celebration ball, She-ra tied up (‘dancing around the red line’).

1 year 1 month~ post-canon: Catradora proposal (in ‘foundations’).

1 year 1 month+ post-canon:

Catradora begin building their house & tell people they’re engaged (in ‘foundations’).

House foundations go up and wedding planning (in ‘foundations’).

House finishes, furniture is mostly in, Adora works on transplanting their garden (in ‘foundations’).

Wedding dress fittings (in ‘foundations’).

Wedding (they’re wives, mentioned in ‘foundations’).

2 years+ post-canon:

Catra ties She-ra up at their house this time (‘peace in letting go’ CH3).

Catra is gaining comfortable weight, Adora wants to get a tattoo, talks to her about it after a few days. Gets the tattoo soon after. 3 weeks after the tattoo, she turns into She-ra to find it has stayed (‘her heart on her sleeve’).

3 years+ post-canon:

Glimbow royal wedding (not directly referenced, though it is mentioned in ‘foundations’ it will take them 2 years minimum to plan a royal wedding).

5 years~ post-canon: Glimbow have their only child, a son they name Angel (Angel appears in “You & I (& Me) which follows the canon of OotW, though its events are not canon to OotW itself).

#if you're asking yourself #fendt wasn't there already an all fics extra 5 #the answer is yes but i demoted one to just being part of my writing process masterpost #so now we're here Again #and since i have 'all fics' posts dedicated just to AUs i can have them dedicated just to canon/OotW too #all fics #ficmeta #fic extra

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