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rosanna-writer · 8 hours

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we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (20/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~5k

Content warning for canon-typical violence and animal death. Some text in this chapter is taken directly from A Court of Mist and Fury.

Read on AO3 or you can find the twentieth chapter below the readmore.

Mud didn't seep through Illyrian leathers. A small mercy, perhaps, but after sitting in it for a few hours, the cold was infinitely more tolerable when I stayed dry. I couldn't move, not without scaring away the ducks that were finally beginning to forget that I was sitting on the edge of the pond.

And I'd been dispatched to find dinner.

We'd fanned out to cover more ground—someone in Windhaven must have tipped the rogue war-bands off, and they'd retreated deeper into the forest. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel took turns flying circles overhead, looking for signs of movement.

We'd likely be out here several days, too long to carry enough food to last the whole time. Though I knew it was to put some distance between me and an initial confrontation with hotheaded warriors with a hatred for humans, I didn't mind. The work needed to get done anyway.

I still hated hunting, but being out in the woods alone cleared my head. There was a quiet and stillness that was impossible to find in a city, even one as lovely as Velaris. I let my mind wander, and I considered how to best capture the dappled sunlight on the water if I ever painted this view. Filling a full canvas still felt like a long way off, but…perhaps a landscape would be the way to ease back into it. Maybe I'd paint a mountain before I tackled everything that had happened under one.

But I could only think of painting for so long, and the ducks were still flitting about too nervously for my liking. I sat a bit longer, and my mind drifted to other things.

Rhys never told me if he was proposing or not. I hadn't asked again. In truth, I had no idea what I was supposed to do after recovering the ring—return it to him? I couldn't wear it openly, at least not without inviting questions we weren't ready to answer. But I hadn't seen a faerie wear a wedding band or use a surname or even known someone else with a mate.

And if faerie funerals were so different from mortal ones, then I supposed weddings would be, too. Especially when a High Lord was involved. Gods, the only person I'd talked to about the difference between marriage and mating had been Tamlin—there was no reason to believe anything he'd told me was accurate.

I was out of my depth. But the ducks had finally settled, so I did the one thing I was good for and let an arrow fly. It speared a bird through the neck, killing it instantly.

The rest of the flock alighted—I had to move quickly. Half on instinct, I aimed, accounting for their speed and direction as I shot down three more, one right after the other. Every arrow found its mark, and the unlucky ducks dropped to the ground as the rest soared away.

My hips and knees barked in protest as I stood; crouching in the mud for so long had left me stiff. At least nothing had gone numb this time.

I felt better, though, even with the tedious task of retrieving, cleaning, and cooking the game ahead of me. In the Spring Court, I'd gotten comfortable and let my guard down far too easily. I'd never felt safer or more taken care of in my life than I had in these last two weeks with Rhys in Velaris, but…I'd worried, on some level, that I'd gotten soft or lost my skills because of it. Bagging those ducks proved I hadn't.

Being loved didn't make me any less a wolf.

I gathered the birds and made my way to the place we'd agreed to meet up at sunset. Without wax or even a large pot of water, I'd either have to breast them out—which would waste some of the meat—or pluck the feathers one by one to roast them whole. And we needed to get a fire started.

I was still plucking the first bird when Azriel arrived. There was a smear of blood on his leathers, and that told me enough—whatever had happened resulted in no survivors. Wordlessly, he grabbed a carcass, sat down next to me, and began ripping the feathers off, too.

No one had ever done that for me. Not my sisters or my father, not even when I'd asked for help.

Cassian landed not long after that, grim-faced and slightly bloodied. He nodded a greeting, then crouched and began coaxing a fire to life. "We're lucky to have a professional around," he said, indicating the carcasses with a jerk of his head.

"Did I catch enough?" I said.

"More than enough to ensure we don't have to listen to Cassian's stomach growl all night," Azriel said.

Knowing that none of us would go hungry set me at ease. The duck in my hand felt like even more of a tangible contribution, proof that it hadn't been a mistake to bring me to Illyria. I smiled to myself and kept ripping out feathers.

I hadn't heard him winnow in, but I felt the familiar darkness of Rhys's power reaching for me again. I turned to see him walking towards us through the trees. As he got closer, my eyes drifted to a scratch on his cheek. Then all my attention locked onto it.

Hardly a scrape—whoever had done it hadn't even broken the skin, and his magic was already halfway done healing it. My blood boiled anyway. Someone had gotten close enough to get a talon or a weapon on him.

"Who," I said, though the word was more growl than speech.

"They're dead," Rhys said.

I was on my feet without even realizing it, closing the distance between us in long strides. "Good. Did you—"

"Yes. All by my hand."

The scratch had faded completely, but I reached for the place it had been. Rhys caught my wrist and tugged me to him. The momentum made my greeting more collision than kiss. I nearly knocked us both over, but Rhys was solid and steady as his other arm twined around my waist to crush me against him.

We'd only been apart a few hours, but someone had almost drawn blood from my mate; an utterly irrational wave of guilt that I hadn't been there to stop it and relief that he was fine had swept away my good sense. I was already pawing at him with my free hand.

The pointed clearing of a throat cut through the mating-bond-induced madness. Without looking up from the bird he was still plucking, Azriel said, "I'd like to remind everyone that we agreed no sharing bedrolls on this mission."

I didn't have it in me to feel embarrassed. Perhaps I couldn't feel ashamed of anything when Rhys had an arm around me. I interlaced our fingers and pulled him back towards the fire.

We sat down, and Cassian dug a rag out of his pack and tossed it in our direction. I reached up to catch it, but it snagged on one of Rhys's talons.

Cassian grinned. "That's for Feyre. I can tell she's dying to clean you off."

Rhys narrowed his eyes, flicking a finger towards the rag, and it dissolved into mist. "I'm not an invalid," he grumbled. On my other side, Azriel chuckled.

Cassian took over the rest of the cooking after that, and one knowing look we shared across the fire was enough to tell me he'd made do with unseasoned game and campfires plenty of times before. Roasted whole, the duck wasn't half-bad.

Before long, night fell, and we were divvying up shifts to keep watch. I took the first, then had no trouble falling asleep—not in the open air, underneath the stars. The next day was more of the same as we tracked the rogue war-bands deeper into the forest.

On the third day of hunting, I was crouched up a tree when a glint of something bright green tore my attention away from the forest floor. I'd assumed the shape circling above had been a bird, perhaps a hawk or a vulture, and hadn't thought much about it.

But birds didn't sparkle. That was an emerald-colored siphon.

The path the Illyrian was taking brought him closer, but I didn't think he'd spotted me. I froze. He flew closer, almost in range of my bow.

I didn't dare even breathe too loudly. Keen faerie senses were difficult to hide from, and even if I stayed hidden, his looping flight pattern would send him back in the opposite direction and I'd miss an opportunity.

He came closer. And closer. There was no time to run.

I grabbed an ash arrow and took the shot.

The arrow ripped a hole in one of his wings, and the Illyrian plummeted to the ground like a stone in water. I scrambled down from my perch and barreled through the trees. As I ran, I pulled another ash arrow from my quiver—a fall from that height could have been deadly, but if not, an injured Illyrian warrior could still find a way to bury a dagger in my belly.

I heard him moaning in pain before I stepped into the clearing where he'd fallen. He'd landed on his back, torso twisted and his legs bent at unnatural angles. A shattered pelvis at the least, maybe even a snapped spine. Healing magic was the only thing keeping him alive. The siphon on his chest flickered weakly, like a heart struggling to beat.

At the sound of my footsteps, his head turned. His eyes burned with hate as he reached for a knife strapped to his belt. I nocked the ash arrow, aiming directly for his face as I took a step closer. His hand stilled.

"Tell me where the others are hiding," I said. "Don't bother lying. The High Lord is on his way."

"I won't take orders from Rhysand's human whore," he spat.

"The best outcome you can hope for is a mercy kill before he arrives. Give up their locations, and I'll consider it."

For a long moment, he said nothing. My arm began to ache from keeping the bowstring pulled back, and I prayed my fingers wouldn't start shaking. I said nothing either, just tried to emulate Azriel's deadly, stone-faced resolve.

The Illyrian's hand twitched, but his fingers never closed around the hilt of the knife. Instead, through clenched teeth, he recited the litany of names and locations I was after. I believed him—I doubted he was in a state to lie convincingly.

As I listened, I gave one insistent tug on the bond and dropped my shields so Rhys could hear it all, too. The beast that had once rested in my mind became a furious thing growling and snapping its jaws.

The clearing plunged into darkness. I couldn't see where Rhys was, but I felt his power sliding along my skin all the same.

"Is that all?" I said, my voice so cold I hardly recognized it as my own.

The Illyrian whimpered something that might have been "yes." I loosed the arrow; even under the cover of Rhys's darkness, my aim stayed true. The point landed in the Illyrian's eye, buried deep enough in his skull to render him still and silent forever.

Just like Andras.

Even with the threat gone, the darkness didn't clear. I glanced up, and my vision had adjusted enough to make out Rhys's silhouette, his wings flared and hands shaking.

"You should have called me the moment you spotted him," Rhys said, voice ragged.

"I handled it," I said simply.

Rhys growled. At me. And the fact that I was too human to properly bare my teeth and return the favor—rage bubbled under my skin. If he'd been closer, I would have shoved him.

"Then why bring me here?" I hissed. "Just to humor me?"

I felt like such a fool for not having realized it sooner. Killing a few ducks was hardly a real contribution—they might as well have patted me on the head and told the High Lord's little human mate she'd done such a good job. Shame made my cheeks go hot.

"Don't be stupid, Feyre," Rhys snapped.

The darkness rippled and churned around us, like a storm at sea. The tendrils seemed to lap at me, pressing close then retreating, even as they skittered down my spine. Magic thrummed in the air.

I crossed my arms. "I'm not."

"You could have gotten yourself killed. Even Cassian won't run into a fight without backup if it's available. There were three of us who could have gone with you, but for reasons I can't even begin to fathom, you waited until the very last second."

I'd never seen Rhys this…undone. Not even when I'd first gone Under the Mountain. His breathing was ragged, and there was a note of panic in his voice I'd never heard before.

"I…I didn't think to ask. At least not at first. I called for you as soon as I remembered." As ridiculous as it sounded when I said it aloud, it was true. But the habit of doing everything on my own was a difficult one to break.

Rhys sighed, his shoulders slumping as the fight went out of him. The darkness seemed to lift, but before I could be sure, he'd winnowed closer and pulled me against his chest. I couldn't see much other than his wings cocooning me.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I love your fearlessness just as much as every other part of you, but please remember that you're not alone anymore. I can't lose you, Feyre."

"I love you too," I said, voice thick. I set my bow down and hugged him back.

Both ends of the bond seemed to settle as we held each other. I savored it—the heat of him against me, the sun shining through his wings, the soft scrape of the scales of his leathers against my cheek.

"You are your own person, and I will not dictate your choices. Ever." Rhys picked a twig out of my hair; it must have gotten lodged in my braid when I'd climbed down from the tree. "If you'd told me what you were doing, I would only have asked you to allow me to come with for my own peace of mind."

I'd never asked why he'd gone alone to that cursed party fifty years ago. Maybe he'd insisted on it; maybe he'd also forgotten to ask for backup, then paid a terrible price. It seemed better not to bring it up.

"You aren't alone either," was all I said.

There was a pulse of something down the bond that I couldn't quite identify, then he stepped back, tucking his wings in tight. His expression was unreadable—a wall had gone back up.

"I've passed all the information on to Azriel, and his shadows are scouting out the locations we were given. Will you be able to keep going? It's alright if you're rattled—you did just kill someone."

There was nothing but a howling void where my guilt should have been. Perhaps I'd lost that piece of myself when I'd killed Andras. If anything, I just felt…numb. "He deserved it."

"I don't disagree."

Rhys let me into his mind as he conferred with the others. I relaxed when Azriel's shadows confirmed that the information I'd gathered was correct—at the very least, I'd saved us time trekking through the woods. I wasn't useless, hadn't been brought here for nothing after all.

Once the first war-band had been hauled back to Windhaven, Rhys wanted me to stay there. I didn't mind. Another set of eyes and ears on the camp was prudent, and I was still technically his emissary.

It was barely even noon when we returned. On Rhys's orders, Devlon's men had set up a line of wooden poles at the center of the camp, the area used for public gatherings. A small crowd had already begun to form. Among them, I spotted Devlon and the warriors who'd been flanking him earlier.

Cassian had wanted those poles burned. And after this, they would be. For the last fifty years, females had been tied to them when their wings had been clipped. The sight of them alone turned my stomach.

Rhys loosened his grip on his power, and from my place next to him, I could feel the magic radiating off him like heat. A gust of night-kissed wind had every member of the rebel war-band silent and tied to the posts.

"There is no tolerance for treason in the Night Court," Rhys said. His voice cut like a knife through the murmuring of the crowd. Pure command—the voice of the High Lord of the Night Court. "And to bow before an invading general who would butcher and enslave humans is particularly heinous. It spits on the graves of the soldiers who died for the mortals' freedom during the War. I'll leave your fate up to the human in our midst, Feyre Cursebreaker."

Every single set of eyes slid to me. The attention had my heart hammering in my chest, but I forced myself to mimic the small, cold smile I'd seen on Amren's face from time to time. When I'd yanked the ash arrow out of the dead warrior's eye, I hadn't bothered to clean it off, just returned it to my quiver.

The gore peeking over my shoulder was message enough.

"I'll make a final decision when the rest are captured. Flaying their skin from their bones seems merciful, but perhaps there's some creature in the Middle that might enjoy hunting them for sport," I said, making myself sound bored and aloof.

The spark of Rhys's approval down the bond bolstered my confidence for what I'd planned to do next. I stepped closer to one of the bound Illyrians and circled my hand around the thin, delicate bone at the edge of his wing, then snapped it in two.

I'd know that cracking sound anywhere. The air reeked of Wyrm shit again, mud clung to my skin, and the slithering behind me was getting closer and closer.

I was running, and—

It's over, Feyre. We got out.

Rhys's voice in my head jolted me out of the memory. I gripped one of his talons and pulled myself back to the present.

I'd survived. And no matter how much of a monster it made me, I'd ensure that no one, not even the most powerful faerie, would hurt me or anyone I loved. Not again.

Before Rhys could fuss, I was breaking the bones in the next Illyrian's wings. I gritted my teeth and ignored their cries of pain until I'd rendered every single one of them incapable of flight.

We locked eyes when it was done, but Rhys's beautiful face was an impenetrable mask I still hadn't learned to see past. "I'll be waiting here for you to bring me the rest," I said. No title or honorific—I'd let them all wonder why he hadn't misted me for speaking to him like that.

Rhys nodded once. He said nothing, but there was a question in the hesitant brush against my shields.

I'm fine. Really. Just bring me the rest so we can finish this quickly.

For a moment, the bond thrummed with wicked delight. Try not to burn down Windhaven while I'm gone.

He took to the sky. Without carrying a passenger, the movement was all perfect, lethal grace, and sometimes I wondered how I could possibly forget that Rhys was anything but an absurdly beautiful predator. I watched until he was out of sight, marveling that he was mine.

The crowd dispersed, and for a moment, I just stood there, unsure what to do with myself. Perhaps I'd spend the rest of the day being ignored by Illyrians. I wouldn't blame them for that—as faeries went about their business, I caught a few wary glances in my direction.

But I supposed I should probably clean off the bloodied arrows in my quiver. And my hands were badly in need of washing.

I made my way to the water pump at the center of the camp. An Illyrian female—around my age, if I had to guess, though it was impossible to be sure with immortals—had just started using using it. Large, brutal scars ran down both of her wings.

"I'll be a while. You can go first," she said, sliding her empty bucket out of the way with her foot. Now that I was closer, I spotted a bruise darkening her cheek, too.

"There's no need. I wouldn't want to waste your time if there are chores to be done," I said.

"You'd be doing me a favor—I'll take any excuse to be out of the house for a little while longer."

I understood—there had been countless days I'd dragged my feet because I hadn't wanted to face Nesta's barbed insults, my father's sad eyes, or Elain's clueless whining. And none of them had even raised a hand to me.

I gave the female a nod, pulled the bloody arrow from my quiver, and rinsed it off under the stream. Silence fell. The female said nothing else, and perhaps it would have been best to let the quiet stay unbroken. The chances were high a trip to gather water was a rare respite for her.

But I could feel her assessing gaze, and I struggled not to squirm under it. "Illyria is very beautiful," I blurted out awkwardly.

"It's a shithole."

"My shithole across the Wall didn't have mountains. It's prettier here, at least," I shook the excess water off the newly-clean arrow and slid it back into the quiver.

She snorted, lips tugging upward at the corners. "I'm Emerie."

"Feyre."

"I know. You're the Cursebreaker." Not awed, just matter-of-fact, which was a bit of a relief.

I scrubbed away the last of the dirt, dried off as best I could, then offered a hand to shake. Emerie took it, and I wasn't surprised that her grip was like iron, not with that straight-backed posture and sharp stare of hers.

I stayed while Emerie filled up her bucket, just talking a bit about Windhaven. She didn't offer up much about herself, and I didn't pry. But by the time she returned home, I'd learned what spices were in the Illyrian dish Cassian had brought to the townhouse the day I'd first trained with Rhys. Emerie had barked a laugh when I told her not to bother with advice on preparing it because I was an utterly hopeless cook.

Maybe I'd made a friend. But I'd also thought Lucien was a friend and he'd turned out to be assisting my kidnapper—I wasn't sure I trusted my judgement on that front anymore.

By the end of the day, Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel, had rounded up the rest of the rogue war-bands, and I'd broken the wings of the survivors. And as much as I wanted to go straight to the Weaver's cottage, I knew it was foolish to go so close to dark. Cassian planned to stay in Illyria, and Devlon was loyal enough not to release the prisoners under his nose in the dead of night or allow anyone else to manage it.

Rhys and I returned to the townhouse in need of a bath, so we took one together. We were both utterly exhausted—his eyes roved over me as I shucked off my leathers, but for once, he was silent.

I'd still snatched the long-handled sponge out of his hands and washed his wings for him. Even drained of energy, I wasn't about to forgo an opportunity to get my hands all over them. I took my time, appreciating the way the powerful muscles in his back rippled with every brush of my fingertips.

And once we were clean, he laid me out on his bed and licked until he'd wrung so much pleasure from me that I drifted into an easy sleep in his arms.

It had been exactly what we both needed. I could guess how he was feeling about a trip to Illyria with still-healing wings, and my mind was unable to keep replaying the sound of bones cracking when Rhys's tongue was sliding inside me.

My dreams were still horrifying—a bone-spear lancing through Rhys's eye, my hands covered in his blood—but I slept through the night and kept my dinner down. I woke alone in Rhys's bed that morning, which meant he'd probably slipped out once I'd drifted off. I suspected he'd had nightmares of his own, too.

I was pulling the belt of knives from my dresser when he winnowed behind me. "Allow me," he purred, right into my ear.

"I can do it myself," I said. After I'd mentioned chucking that knife at Tamlin, Azriel had showed me how to strap it on as part of my training to go Under the Mountain.

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to."

He had a point, so I let him take it from me. I turned, and for a moment, we were chest-to-chest. He inhaled, drinking in my scent, and I lifted a hand to touch him.

But he dropped to his knees before I could. Flashing me a roguish grin, he spread open the web of leather and steel. My toes curled in my boots.

"Remind me of what you've been briefed on," he said as I stepped through the loops.

I did my best to ignore the steady brush of his hands as he set about adjusting and buckling and tightening things. "Knives only—no sword or bow or arrows. Don't touch anything that doesn't belong to me. Take my time to think about loopholes before agreeing on a bargain. Call for help if I need it. And stay alive before everything else," I recited.

"Precisely." He braced those strong, capable hands on my thighs and looked up at me. "You are more valuable than any treasure the Weaver could ever posses. If you need to leave the ring behind to come home to me, then that's what you do."

"I won't let it come to that."

Rhys got to his feet and kissed my cheek. "I believe you."

He winnowed us into a wood that was older, more aware, than any place I’d been.

The gnarled beech trees were tightly woven together, splattered and draped so thoroughly with moss and lichen that it was nearly impossible to see the bark beneath. The trees groaned—though there was no breeze to shift them. No, the air here was tight and stale.

So this was the Middle.

I followed Rhys through the trees, and the only sound was our footsteps. No birdsong or the snapping of twigs, nothing I was used to hearing in a forest. Just unnatural, ancient stillness.

We stopped before a clearing. A small, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and half-crumbling chimney sat in the center. Ordinary—almost mortal. There was even a well, its bucket perched on the stone lip, and a wood pile beneath one of the round windows of the cottage. No sound or light within—not even smoke puffed from the chimney.

I could hear faint, pretty humming coming from the cottage. Soothing, almost mesmerizing—it would have set me at ease if I didn't already know it was coming from the monster within. The sort of thing that might lure quarry into a snare.

But I was not prey. No—I was a huntress. A wolf. It took much more than that to fool me.

I started down the mossy earth path that paved the way to the door and didn't look back once. When I reached the threshold, I could hear her voice through the door. The Weaver's voice was sweet, clear, and beautiful.

“There were two sisters, they went playing, To see their father’s ships come sailing… And when they came unto the sea-brim The elder did push the younger in.”

I'd heard the song before, from humans. It was a favorite of the traveling musicians who sometimes passed through our village. And perhaps…she knew that, and the familiarity was intended to lull me, too.

I stayed perfectly still on the threshold for a long moment, the same freeze-watch-listen pattern I fell into as I hunted in the woods. Along with her voice, I could only hear the clatter of some device. So she was alone, then.

“Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, Til her corpse came to the miller’s dam.”

I raised a hand to knock, but the door swung open on silent hinges, as if she'd rolled out a welcome mat just for me. I didn't move, just peered inside. My chest went tight, and I forced myself to keep my breathing even.

A large main room, with a small, shut door in the back. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, crammed with bric-a-brac: books, shells, dolls, herbs, pottery, shoes, crystals, more books, jewels…From the ceiling and wood rafters hung all manner of chains, dead birds, dresses, ribbons, gnarled bits of wood, strands of pearls…

A junk shop—of some immortal hoarder.

I waited to feel power calling out to me, but…nothing happened. Perhaps, as part of the bargain, I'd need to ask her to hand the ring to me directly. If she even remembered where it was.

The Weaver of the Wood herself sat with her back to me. In the gloom of the cottage, I could just make out the ancient, cracked spinning wheel I'd heard along with her singing. In the cottage, it was far too dim to make out the thin white thread she was spinning. Was she blind, like the Wyrm….or could she see in the dark?

My eyes drifted to the soft fiber she was feeding into the wheel. It looked like wool, but some deep-seated instinct in the back of my brain told me it was not. The question wasn't what she was spinning, but who.

The shelf above her head was filled with cones upon cones of thread, and large bolts of woven fabric filled up the space next to her. Mother above, she must have made it from entire cities, whole armies or even nations. A handful of rebel Illyrians suddenly seemed like a pitiful offering.

But I still, I had to try. And if there really were some power for me to detect, perhaps I needed to be a bit closer. Out here, nothing was pulling me towards one object in particular.

As silently as I could, I took a step into the cottage. I froze, waited, breathed. Nothing. I took another, and then the door slammed shut.

The Weaver turned her face toward me.

Above her young, supple body, beneath her black, beautiful hair, her skin was gray—wrinkled and sagging and dry. And where eyes should have gleamed instead lay rotting black pits. Her lips had withered to nothing but deep, dark lines around a hole full of jagged stumps of teeth—like she had gnawed on too many bones.

Her nose—perhaps once pert and pretty, now half-caved in—flared as she sniffed in my direction. "Well met, High Lady."

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

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starsarebleeding · 1 year

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today on "i love my otp so much that":

#i love my otp so much that i actually cried writing smut.#like real tears.#like come on man lol #thankfully this scene is now done and i will stop posting about it everyone lololol #who the hell thought it was a good idea to air this goddamn miniseries on cbc #1 1 2 3 5 8 #literally like who would i be if i had not watched taken? i could not even begin to fathom #like if i hadn't listened to bowie or the tea party #or read steve erickson or watched hannibal #i know i wouldnt be me #but fibs is like #how could you possibly extricate them from my mental health or my life decisions or my sense of self #like they're obviously my own at this point i have no delusions #which is healthier i think in some ways because what i'm really in love with is actually myself #HOWEVER #it has been aaaalmost 20 years and i am still literally weeping because they are so beautiful and make me feel SO MUCH #what am i supposed to do with that?#i turn 37 in a day #i would never have believed i'd be here at 17 #i secretly always always hoped i would still love them but could never have imagined the past 20 yrs #and my actual life and how much i have grown and who i have become #and we are everywhere.

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httpsserene · 5 months

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𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑

welcome to the table of contents for my one-thousand followers special !

i'm baffled at the amount of love and support from all of you; in under the two-months i've been writing on this blog, i've managed to have good enough writing to convince you guys to save my blog. i started writing f1 ff's with the sole purpose to provide more black!reader based content, and i never imagined that i'd have a thousand eyes reading my delusional scenarios lol. thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart :)

as promised, the special event is a continuation of the first upload of my f1 kinktober series. those of you who were desperate for a part-two of the corruption kink with charles leclerc / max verstappen / black!reader--here it is, in abundance. a five-part series (including the f1-ktober upload). merry christmas, loves xxx

if you would like to be added to this series' taglist, send me an ask or leave a reply.

all episodes uploaded at 12 PM EST on their release date.

posts tagged as # httpss :// 1k special.

all works can be found in my table of contents (m.list).

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: max and charles don’t mind receiving a five-second penalty for slipping past your boundaries. seeing a black and white flag doesn’t scare them in the slightest; not when you're performing so well under their guidance. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: multi-chaptered series.

view playlist? ↴

pilot: corruption kink w/ charles leclerc and max verstappen

innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things.

episode two: 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿 | handjobs | 12/9/23

slightly less innocent, virgin!reader has had her view of pleasure shifted. her libido has increased to insane levels after she finally allowed her boyfriends to fix her…dry spell. charles and max have no issues with helping her ride out her newfound sexual appetite, and figure that she may be ready to take the next step. or, more accurately, take the next hand.

soundtrack - gun • doja cat

episode three: 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝘃𝗲 | fingering | 12/11/23

tainted, virgin!reader is growing tired of grinding against her boyfriends. she’s never touched herself before—no toys, no fingers, no fondling—the friction from a pillow used to be enough. but, maybe having something inside of her isn’t as terrifying as she believed. charles’ pretty pianist fingers don’t look too scary, and they way he raves about how talented max’s daunting thicker fingers are; well, she could be convinced to see what all the fuss is about.

soundtrack - pressure • ari lennox

episode four: 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘄𝘁𝗵 | oral sex | 12/15/23

soiled, virgin!reader is well aware of her boyfriends’ desire to eat her alive, sorry, to eat her out. from the way they can’t resist drinking her wetness off their (or her own) fingers, to the way they can’t stop running their mouths about getting their mouths on you: they’ve made how desperate they are, very clear. for some reason, she can’t get past her mental block to allow them to feast between her legs, or to taste what’s between theirs. max figures she just needs a demonstration to quell her fears; charles is a more than willing participant.

soundtrack - super freaky girl • nicki minaj

finale: 𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗼𝗿 | vaginal sex | 12/17/23

tonight, innocent and virgin!reader will be defiled, deflowered, tarnished—whichever word you prefer. from the moment she told them she was ready to lose her virginity, they’ve been carefully planning out a special night, for her. and shockingly, there’s not an ounce of fear, anxiety, or doubt in her mind—max and charles have gained her complete trust. they haven’t given her a single reason to believe that they wouldn’t treat her right. she couldn’t have asked for better men to take her virginity—if this is corruption, she’s delighted to experience it.

soundtrack - wet dreamz • j.cole

current taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris@xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld@hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @ggaslyp1 @idontgotopartiesanymore @woozarts @yourlilitha @smartstupyd @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari @vetteltea @dark-night-sky-99 @svinzlec @angelfreckless

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ppeonppeonhan · 4 months

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The Sexiest 2023 BL Scenes

I think we can all agree that there is an art to executing a sex scene -- and not everybody's an artist. This year, we (and, by that, I mean you) gif'd a couple of masterpieces that range from romantic to...educational. Here are the ones that live in my head rent free, in order of PG-13 to NC-17:

BEST ROLE-PLAY SEX: Bed Friend

If you had told me last year that incorporating cat ears into foreplay would result in one of the hottest scenes in BL, I would've given you bombastic side-eye. But James, the actor who plays Uea, pulled it off, and is probably responsible for a lot of Amazon orders till this day. (Episode 6)

BEST BEACH-SIDE SEX: The Eighth Sense

This entire sequence was so beautifully lit in golden tones, with soft touches, and romantic moments. It almost made you forget about the depression plot. Almost. (Episode 6)

LONG-AWAITED SEX: Hidden Agenda

Joke yearned for Zo in a way that was borderline comical. From the moment Zo kissed Joke like he was trying to give him CPR and then promptly shoved him out of his apartment, I knew every kiss after that would have to come with a parental warning. I'm surprised Joke didn't move in. (Episode 8)

DO-OVER SEX: Love Class 2

The music for this sex scene was so perfectly matched with the caressing and hand closeups. And the fact that it happened after the initially-ghosted Joo Hyuk got Sung Min to reconsider made it even sweeter. (Episode 9)

BEST WET SEX SCENE: Kiseki: Dear to Me

I may have enjoyed Ai Di and Chen Yi's love story more, but Fan Ze Rui and Bai Zong Yi were helping us all live out our tall boy fantasies. When he mounted him with a soft bounce, I knew the gif Gods would giveth. (Episode 7)

BEST EUPHORIC SEX: Only Friends

Ray looked like he reached nirvana when he made love to Sand in that sardine can of trailer, so of all their sex scenes, this was my fave. (Episode 9)

BEST INSECURITY-INDUCED SEX: Only Friends

Say what you will about Boston -- and the fandom has said a lot lol -- but if you had to choose a cast member to get you off, you'd choose him in a heartbeat. And yes, this scene was grimey. He f*cked his friend's potential boyfriend in the backseat of his car after manipulating him into believing he was cheated on, but can you blame him? He was probably tired of always having to give and never receive. Plus, Top did this vibrating move that made me wonder who told Force to do that... (Episode 3)

GIF by wanderlust-in-my-soul

BEST CENSORED SEX: Wedding Plan

I'm still mad that this scene wasn't in the Youtube cut. It paints an entirely different picture of their dynamic and their personalities. But thank God for the gif'ers, otherwise I would've missed how ravenous they were when they weren't...wedding planning. 😳 (Episode 6)

BEST WHIPLASH SEX: Be Mine Superstar

To be clear, WE were the ones getting whiplash. One minute, we were watching a sweet love story between an innocent college kid and his idol crush, and the next minute we were watching a masterclass on how to bang your one-night stand (consensually) until he agrees to date you. It's like...Sir, I'm on the train. Could you give a bitch a heads up? (Episode 8)

***

While I am generally envious of every single one of these experiences, I'm even more envious of everyone's knee strength and flexibility. I could never. Rollerblading has ruined me. If I tried half of these positions, I'd have to get physical therapy. 🙃

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obiwanwhat · 8 months

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So I firmly believe that everything Anakin did and said wasn't about him and what he needed to say, it was about what Ahsoka needed to hear and see.

There is so much to unpack within EVERYTHING of that episode but here's my attempt at trying to deconstruct the latter half of the Anakin & Ahsoka scenes:

"Ahsoka, within you will be everything I am"

For 15 years, Ahsoka thought that Anakin had died a Jedi. From the time she was 17 to the time she was 32 - it was a belief she held for her entire adult life! Her training as a Jedi was foundational to who she was (even if she wasn't a Jedi), and being trained by Anakin was the core of her Jedi training. For over a decade, she looked at that inheritance with nothing but pride over who had trained her and where she'd come from. And then she finds out what Anakin became. Obviously it's devastating to see someone who you consider family in the state, and to have them try to kill you! But the thing I'd never considered was how much it would make Ahsoka doubt herself. If Anakin trained Ahsoka - and you can bet she's now going over every memory of Anakin she ever has searching for double meanings, searching for signs of what he would become - what does that make her? What does that say about her training, and about all the lessons that shaped her?

"But my part of that legacy is one of death and war"

On top of that...Ahsoka has been a soldier and then a spy since she was fourteen. She was a literal child soldier! She was trained in nothing but killing and war, and then later had to train herself in killing and spying. Without a war to fight, who is she? Now that peace has (apparently) returned to the galaxy with the end of the Empire, what place does she have? What purpose does she serve? What knowledge of use does she have to pass onto Sabine?

"But you're more than that, because I'm more than that"

This isn't Anakin trying to defend himself, he's pointing out that to Ahsoka he means more than the death he caused, both as Jedi soldier and as Darth Vader. When he trained her, he didn't just teach her how to kill - he taught her how to respect and care about the men under her command, he taught her how to be brave in the face of insurmountable odds, he taught her how to be kind to the innocent. Clone Wars Anakin was just as much a Jedi as he was a solider, and so both trainings are what were passed down to Ahsoka. And his becoming Vader doesn't undo any of that. I don't think Ahsoka had ever figured out how to feel about Anakin's legacy, because how can she respect the man who became a genocidal monster? How can she respect and love and honor the man who tried to kill her? She should - well, not hate him, a Jedi (or even a not-Jedi) doesn't hate - but she should disavow him. But she can't, because he's still the man who stood up for her when the Jedi Council turned their backs on her, who drilled her in the lightsaber techniques that saved her life on Mandalore, who saved her life too many times to count and was her family. And she doesn't know how to reconcile those feelings with what Anakin became, and therefore she doesn't know how to reconcile the parts of herself that come from being trained by Anakin.

"You are more, Anakin. But more powerful and dangerous than anyone realized"

She's sidestepping the point by falling back on her default defense: Anakin fell to the Dark Side, and therefore everything that came out of his teachings - including her - is tainted. She still can't admit to herself that there was more to Anakin than his fall, and that all those parts of Anakin still mean something to her.

"Is that was this is about?" / "If I am everything you are-" / "then you've learned nothing"

She's still missing the point Anakin's trying to show her - that she carries his trainings and influence within her, but she is not Anakin. She is not tainted by Anakin's fall, and her fate will not be the same as his, because she's her own person who makes her own choices, and the good in Anakin's teachings - the good in her that came from them - doesn't just go away because Anakin fell. She's still so scared of Anakin's darkness - and what it says about her own inner darkness - that she can't see her own light.

"Back to the beginning. I gave you a choice - live, or die?"

For the last 10 or so years (however long since she returned from Malchor), Ahsoka's been in a holding pattern. All she knows is war, and she doesn't know what there is to life outside of fighting to live another day. She's terrified of who she is and of facing the ghost of Vader over her past. She's not living anymore, she's just surviving, moving from day to day. Anakin's telling her that's not enough anymore. Not being able to face her past and embrace her training literally killed her - Baylan was able to unbalance her enough to defeat her in a fight by stoking her inner discord. If she wants to return, she has to want to live, really live - she needs to find her direction in life beyond being a solider, and to do that she has to embrace her full legacy and training. If she can't do that, then she'll stay dead, stuck in the world between worlds.

"No-" / "Incorrect" / "You lack conviction" / "Time to die"

She still doesn't know how to see past Vader, so Anakin give her the opportunity to work through it in a way she can understand - by literally fighting her figurative demon.

"I choose to live"

By fighting Vader, by having the chance to kill him and embrace the Dark Side and realizing she didn't take it, realizing that she never even wanted to, Ahsoka finally realizes what Anakin's been trying to show her - she's not Vader, she never will be, because that's not who she is. Anakin's teachings are a part of her that she cannot escape, but there is more to Anakin's teachings than Vader, and there is more to her than what she has been taught. To find out what she is meant to be and move forward she must embrace where she came from. Only then can she return to the world of the living and move forward with her journey.

#ahsoka #ahsoka spoilers #star wars #ahsoka show #star wars ahsoka #anakin skywalker #darth vader #ahsoka tano #disaster lineage

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stinkrascal · 2 months

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ehehehehe anyways

TRANSCRIPT

picture 2 Breanna: ...

picture 3 Lilith: Breanna? Are you still here? You haven't run away, have you?

picture 4 (gif warning) Breanna: I'm upstairs!

picture 5 Breanna: Did you talk to him? Lilith: That's... that's my shirt.

picture 6 Breanna: Huh? Oh, yeah, I really needed to shower, so I figured it'd be fine if I took some stuff from your closet. That's cool with you, right? Lilith: I... uh... [ clears throat ] Of course.

picture 7 Breanna: Soooooo did you talk to him? Lilith: I did. Caleb is still going over the details with him. Breanna: Oh, cool. So he's your boss or whatever? Lilith: He is my sire, and I am his spawn. He trains me to wield my powers. Breanna: So I'm gonna be his spawn too? Lilith: Perhaps. If you're fortunate.

picture 8 Breanna: Oh. Right. Or he'll kill me. Lilith: ...There are worse fates.

picture 9 Breanna: Why haven't you killed me? Lilith: I—I beg your pardon?

picture 10 Breanna: You're being really nice to me. It's kind of weird. I thought you would've tried to kill me by now. Lilith: And yet, you stayed? Breanna: ...

picture 11 Lilith: Do you believe I devour every pretty girl I meet? Breanna: ... Lilith: I'm a vampire, not a monster. Please, at least let me make you some tea first.

picture 12 Breanna: What do you eat, then? Lilith: Flesh and blood, of course. Breanna: ... Lilith: Don't fret. I've never killed a human myself. Do you kill your food before you eat it? I imagine not. There are many ways for a vampire to eat ethically, if you're creative.

picture 13 Lilith: And if I had to choose my own prey, I'd never choose humans first. I've always wondered how a fresh mermaid goes down, myself. Would it be salty? Would I taste the ocean in her blood? You're far too waifish for my taste. You have nothing to fear.

picture 14 Lilith: You can trust me.

picture 16 Caleb: See, Lilith? What did I tell you? A little flattery and booze is all you need for that one. Nothing else to it. Lilith: You're late. Caleb: Do you think so? I thought I made good timing.

picture 17 Caleb: Lilith, do you remember what I said earlier, about how you're too combative? Lilith: No.

picture 18 Caleb: You don't? It was only an hour ago. I told you earlier, you're too combative. You treat every social interaction like it's the debate club. It's probably why nobody likes you. Lilith: [ groaning ] Stop speaking.

picture 19 Caleb: Vladislaus agreed to meet you. We will escort you to his estate tomorrow morning.

picture 20 Breanna: Tomorrow? Why not now? Caleb: I don't know. Perhaps he's giving you time to escape. Breanna: ...

picture 21 Lilith: Stop being morbid, Caleb!

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #🌱#straud: standstill #straud: all #oc: breanna straud #lilith vatore #caleb vatore

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wosoluver · 30 days

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To undo a mistake

Part 4/17 - previous - next

Lena x Bayern player!reader, Ana Guzmán x Bayern player!reader

That therapy session was... something. To say the least. Your eyes puffy once again.

We didn't talk much. I practically just dumped all my problems to her. But it felt good to get everything out, to someone who wouldn't judge you but also wasn't allowed to give too much of her opinion.

When you walked out, Ana wasn't there yet. So you just decided to sit and wait.

It took her around 10 minutes to show up.

"Hey. Have I made you wait for too long?"

"No, not at all. So do you want to go get some coffee? I'm out of practice today and you probably don't have many friends here yet."

"Your the one that looks like you could use a friend. Let's go. You drive, I don't have my license yet."

"First of all, ouch. Second of all, let's go. You'll be my passenger princess." - You said it excited.

Lena never really let you drive, you were always the passenger princess.

And you quickly tried to wisk the memory away.

You were both in comfortable silence in the car. Only the sound of Ana's music playing in the back. And yes you were forced to give her the rights to dj. Passenger princess' rule number 1.

You stop at your favorite place. It was never too crowded, which you were thankful for.

"I'll go order, what do you want?"

"Whatever your having, is fine."

After ordering and getting your coffees you go sit on a quiet corner.

"So, how are you adapting to Germany?"

"Oof- it's so fucking cold here. Not even in the coldest winters we get this temperature in Colombia."

"You'll get used to it after some time. A few jackets and coats and you're good."

"And you? Had a nice time in therapy?"

"Oh yeah. So much fun!" - you answered equally as ironic.

"I can tell by your puffy eyes.

I think today was my first time not crying in there."

"Must be hard. I've never had a bad injury. But it seems like the worse. Lena went through-" - you cut yourself off before you could say anything else. Your face dropped. Here you were again. Everything you think of, brought up Lena, one way or another.

"And Lena is-"

"My ex. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking when I said that."

"It's fine. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." - but then you proceeded to dump everything that had happened into the conversation. - "It's just, my head is still trying to wrap around everything. She already has a new girlfriend. And I'm still dealing with my feelings.

She broke up with me, over the phone can you believe that? I never felt so meaningless, so betrayed. Our five month relationship thrown into the trash. All of that, because Munich is too far from Wolfsburg for her taste."

"Wow, you had a lot to say for someone that didn't want to talk about it." - she said that hoping it would easy the anxious face you had going on. - "It's okay. Time works differently for different people. You have the right to mourn your relationship.

Is that what has been driving you down?"

"Yeah, I just wasn't ready to see her. I'm still in love with her. I mean was. After what happened Saturday, I think it might be time to except it's over."

"You still had feelings for her? Even after what she did?"

"Yeah. I guess I was just hopeful. I felt like in some way things weren't over yet. I just- It just didn't make sense. Lena is not that type of person. She would never do that."

"But she did. Look, if she meant to hurt you or not, you'll probably never know. Unless you talk to her."

"I am not going to talk to her."

"Then you'll have to settle for the unknown."

"I think I will. Can we talk about your feelings now? I've humiliated my self enough."

"Fine. You were right when you said I needed friends." - she let out a deep breath. - "When I first got injured. I was very hard on myself. Specially after hearing the diagnosis and that I'd have to go under surgery. I stressed my self over when I shouldn't have.

I pushed everyone away.

The hardest thing, when we are hurting, is to remember others are most likely going through something too."

"But that's kind of natural I guess. To be so into your own head you forget about others. It's just- there is such a thin line between being compassionate towards people and putting their needs and feelings before yours. To be honest I've never been good at navigating though it either."

"Yeah, I've been getting better about it I think. Therapy has helped me understand a lot of things. The most important of them, I think it was acceptance.

I feel so much better since I accepted that I have no control over this type of things. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to. I just have to go through it. And soon enough I'll be back playing once again."

"It's good to know your coming out better from this one. Sometimes things happen for a reason, and sometimes it's for the better"

"It's getting late, we should get going."

"Yeah. I'll give you a ride home."

For the rest of the day all you could think about was what you two had talked about.

Maybe you could use some acceptance yourself. Of how things were, and not what you think they should be.

And stop worrying so much about what you had no control over.

That's how it works when you live right? Life happens.

Have you guys been wondering what's been like for Lena? Well next chapter is Lena's pov!

It's still an Obi fic I swear.

I think from this chapter on, it's finally going to be good writing. I wasn't liking how things the previous parts came out.

#woso x reader #lena oberdorf x reader #lena oberdorf #vfl wolfsburg frauen #fc bayern frauen

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heavenlymorals · 4 days

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The Tragedy of Dutch Van Dir Linde

Warning: spoilers ahead for both Red Dead games.

Dutch Van Dir Linde is one of the finest characters I've ever come across and that I think about a lot because in many ways, he is represents the dreams that people have and the awful reality of it too.

Heytham, what the hell do you mean that this manic, selfish, delusional piece of shit is like you or me?

Here is an example. When you were a kid, did your parents tell you that your dreams will come true if you worked hard? And did you believe it? I know I did. I studied often, got a great SAT score, joined many extracurriculars, did volunteer work regularly, got a part time job, had all high grades in advanced level courses and in AP/honor programs and I had one goal. To get into my dream college.

I made my resume. I did everything right. I listen to what people better than me told me to do and I waited for that acceptance letter- so confident that I would get into the university. Never once did I imagine that I'd get rejected, but I did. For a 17 year old kid, it felt like the world was ending. I remember sobbing myself to sleep, waking up, and then just laying on my bed disappointed in the world and the lies it fed me. In a perfect world, I'd have gotten accepted. Worst people than me got accepted, why couldn't I?

But I moved on. Life continued and I was fine. I was bitter, sure, but I managed to get over it and work towards better paths and a better future.

But what if I didn't? What if I got hung up on that forever? What if I fought the rejection? What would I have done? What would I have not done?

This little experience, one that many people have gone through, is kind of a microcosm of the much bigger human truth that the world will never be an ideal place due to the human nature.

If I was like Dutch, I would have fought the rejection- I would stick so diligently to the ideal that I believed in so hard, even though that failure was more than likely a guarantee. I wouldn't find an alternative to be better and do better things. I'll get hung up on a dream and never move past it.

That's his dilemma. He believes in the ideal, like we all do, but he will fight tooth and nail to make that ideal real while we will sigh and realize that life will never be the way we want it to be.

Dutch feels betrayed by the world, or at least by his vision of the world- especially America.

America was a country built on the promise of all men being born equal under God and under the law. All men.

That was the dream, the hope, and the promise.

What happened instead? The continuing of the institute of slavery, the massacre of natives, the monopoly of magnates, and the constant discrimination of those not considered 'white'.

It was disgusting and awful and it should've never happened- but it did and people tried to remedy it in ways that were gradual but real. They found different paths and different dreams and though there is still much work to be done, people are finding a way.

Dutch couldn't do that though. He refused to do that. He wanted the ideal and he wanted it immediately, even though it was impossible. He killed for his ideal, he robbed for his ideal, and he led people to hell for his ideal.

But it didn't matter. His ideal will never exist and he couldn't accept that- which leads to his end.

He won't be caught. And he didn't get caught by commiting suicide- a final fight. He wouldn't surrender to John or the Pinkertons, because that would mean admitting that his entire life was a struggle for nothing because his vision will never be realized if people like Cornwall or Favours or the professor continue to exist. Life was hell because of those people and the American dream did not exist because of those people.

"What a beautiful dream. So poorly rendered," - Dutch to Arthur.

And Dutch is right! From the very beginning that this country was created, it relied on an ideal that turned out to be a lie.

And Dutch couldn't handle that and wanted a perfect world that can never be realized and he tried to get that perfect world by lying and stealing and cheating and killing. What a depressing dichotomy.

Now, of course, when it comes to the personal motivations of Dutch, whether pride, hubris, narcissism, or any of that, they can all by factors to Dutch's pointless battle, but his motivation has always been clear and it never changed-

"Yeah, I know it's tough. You like Dutch. He's a charming fellow. He makes sense. He's like one of those nature writers from back East. Only he takes things a tiny little step too far. Rather than just loving the flowers and the animals and the harmony between man and beast, he shoots people in the head for money. And disagreeing with him. Now, I'm not a great intellect, but the metaphysical leap from admiring a flower to shooting a man in the head because he doesn't like a flower, is a leap too far." Edgar Ross to John Marston.

Dutch lived and died to create an ideal that would never be real because he could never accept reality and that is one of the saddest fates a man could have.

#Dutch's story makes me so sad #because his dream is such a beautiful dream #but he fails to realize that it is only a dream #and can never actually happen as long as people exist #how foolish he was #how valiant #and how terrible for he damned people for this dream like Arthur and John and Molly and so many others #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #john marston #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #red dead redemption #character analysis #story analysis

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eyeheartboobiez · 7 months

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-> 𝗃𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖽 𝗑 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

-> 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗎!

-> 𝖺/𝗇: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗎 𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾'𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 "𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾" 🫶🏿

liked by y/nforeal and 972,336 others

@rred_hood: gm yall

View all 9,112 comments

user1: never wanted to be a towel so bad

user2: so i see y/n liked his post… interesting

user3: y/n bro just take him atp

⤷ user4: sis never beating the dating allegations😭

user5: i need him in the worst way bro please

@bigdickgrayson: put a shirt on skank

⤷@rred_hood: a bit much coming from bludhaven’s resident whore

user6: idk why yall always so quick to jump to conclusions. all she did was like his damn post have some decorum guys🤦‍♀️

⤷user4: DICK RIDAAA🗣️🗣️

⤷user7: girl he is NAWT gonna pick you💀

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Y/N Y/LN's leaked music continues to give fans hints about her relationship status, completely against the artist's wishes (8/17/2022 3:27 PM PT)

Many listeners of the singer woke up to a great surprise this morning when an anonymous twitter account posted a link to one of Y/N Y/LN's unreleased songs.

For the past few months, fans have been speculating when the artist would release more music since having been in a rumored relationship with the proclaimed gotham elite, Jason Todd. The lyrics "Boys blowin' up my phone, They just ain't you" and "I'd give this pussy to you, nine-to-five, five-to-nine" give us a clear hint of what may be going on between the two, and fans were quick to catch on.

Much to the artist's dismay, however, the song’s chorus found it way over to tiktok with over 700,000 videos having used the audio already. Many users of the app have participated in a dance trend that has already seemed to be created.

Despite all the positive feedback directed towards the singer, Y/N was not hesitant to express her irritation for the invasion of privacy. After seeing the topic trending on twitter this morning, a post was made to her account stating:

@y/nforeal: Now who tf leaked my shit?? This why yall dont ever get any music outta me😐

After doing some digging, inside sources have come to the conclusion that Artemis Grace, singer and former girlfriend of Jason, played some part in unconsentually releasing the song. Even though the two artists work under the same record label, Artemis wouldn’t do something this crazy, right?

But to nobody’s surprise, it seems that the vengeful ex has a long history of being senseless. Jason has stated in the past that the main reason he ended things with her was because she liked to have constant "control" over him. In an interview last year, he made it very clear how unhappy he was with Artemis, saying:

"She was known for taking extreme measures to make sure I stayed tied down to her. I don't really wanna get into it, but she's always had an obsession with being in the star of things, and our relationship was no exception."

While both Todd and Y/LN have yet to clear the air regarding their rumored love affair, sources still firmly believe that something is going on between them to have inspired such a song. Still, whether they wanna admit it or not, they really are super cute together. ;)

i really didn't wanna make artemis the bad guy here but i needed a plotline dawg😭

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mechformers · 1 year

Text

Ma Miles - Ch. 16

6.7k words

Chapter Warning: Wound dressing, mention of bruised bones/ribs, cuts, talking about Neteyam being shot.

I um... I can't believe we've reached 70k lol What happened? XD Had anyone told me that I would ever write a slow burn this slow, I would have never believed them. Yet... here I am. Thanks a lot, Slang! To everyone who has read, is reading, or is going to read, thank you, thank you, thank you so much!! <3 As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!

(If you want to be tagged with the updated chapters, please leave your @ myusername in the comments! )

Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 17

The sound that leaves you when the people part for the small boy running towards you could only be described as heartwrenching, even to your own ears, Spider’s bruised frame sprints forward with only one goal in mind as you fall to your knees in the wet, warm sand. You just manage to open your arms before he’s wrapped around you, his small but strong arms holding onto you for dear life as you press your face into the crook of his neck, sobbing openly. Rocking the both of you slowly, you breathe him in, letting your hand cup the back of his messy head while you press his smaller body to your frame. There’s a small voice in the back of your mind that tells you to ease up, to let his smaller body get space to breathe, but in your desperation, you’re unable to let go of him.

“Son?” Distantly, you recognize the wounded, high-pitched voice of Jake Sully, but it’s not before you lift your head to take a deep breath that you notice that the Toruk Makto has rushed past the Olo’eyktan to hold his own son. The sound of the strong man’s quiet sobs pierces something deep within you and you can only imagine the relief of seeing your child alive when you have believed him to be dead.

He’s whispering thanks and blessings to the Great Mother when Neytiri comes rushing through the crowd, no doubt reacting to her mate’s distressed sounds. It doesn’t take long for her own shrieks of pain and disbelief to come forth as she stumbles on unsteady legs toward her son and mate. With her hand outstretched, Jake Sully takes it, pulling her into the hug he’s refusing to end with their son. Neteyam’s grunt when his mother collides with them is painful, but the reunion goes on, the young man refusing to let go of his parents. Smiling through your tears, you watch as the rest of the children join them, happy cries and grabby hands creating a tight bubble around Neteyam. It’s heartwarming to see the young man be cuddled and loved like this.

Stroking Spider’s head, you close your eyes as you feel his small but fierce heart pounding away against your chest. Your son has stopped crying, his small sniffles sounding every now and then as he clings to you. His cheek is resting against your collarbone, his mask digging in painfully, but you couldn’t care less. Your son was finally here with you, his small body clinging to you as you held him. You can’t imagine the pain and hurt he’s been through the past few weeks, or how scared he must have been. Kissing his messy head, you whisper small thank you’s as you get to your feet, still holding him close.

“You saved him,” Jake Sully mumbles, his sharp eyes piercing into yours from your short distance, reaching a hand out for you to join them.

Slowly, you approach your old Olo’eykatan with Spider in your arms, only to be pulled into the hug when his strong hand wraps around your elbow. His forehead presses firmly against yours as he holds you close, whispers of thanks leaving his lips as he breathes deeply. Neytiri repeats the motion when her mate eventually lets up, her eyes piercing into yours as she thanks you, the motion foreign to you.

“Mo’at was the one who saved him,” You whisper back, hearing Jake Sully’s soft intake of air as his head leaves the tight bubble you’ve all created, “I just found him,”

Neytiri lifts her head too and it’s only then that she sees her mother standing with the Olo’eyktan. Mo’at steps forward when another wounded sound leaves Neytiri and you watch as the older woman crumbles in her mother’s arms when she embraces her daughter. At that moment your heart bleeds for Neytiri and what she’s been through. You can only imagine the pain and sorrow she must have experienced while believing her son dead, only to be able to embrace his beating heart once more. To be able to be comforted by her mother and for the Tsahìk to embrace her the way she now does…

“Y/n had already saved Neteyam by the time they reached the Omatikaya clan, all I could do was help him heal faster” Mo’at hums to her daughter and Neytiri’s head whips around to stare at you again. Holding her mother’s hand, she reaches for yours with the other, pressing your hand to her chest.

“Thank you, sister,” Neytiri’s words are spoken with such vulnerability, with such gratitude that it takes you by surprise.

“It was the least I could do after your family protected my son,” You squeeze her shoulder where she still holds your hand to her chest, smiling warmly up at her.

Neytiri is unable to meet your eyes, her eyes instead focused on the blond mop of hair that is your son in your arms, but you don’t think much of it. It’s been a stressful time for both of you and in all honesty, you’re beyond exhausted. When Neytiri lets go of your hand, you turn back to the Metkayina Olo’eyktan, greeting him properly this time whilst still holding onto Spider, refusing to let your son go.

“I come seeking your help. My companion is hurt and he…-” You start slowly only for the Olo’eyktan to hold up his hand for you to stop.

“Your Tsahìk has already explained your situation,” He starts, only for Jake Sully to step up to him.

“She is Omatikaya, Tonowari. I will take full responsibility if you can offer her companion help,” He declares and for a split second, your heart soars with pride and gratitude for your old Olo’eyktan.

“Toruk Makto,” You say politely, your ears bent close to your skull as you wrap your tail around your thigh, the pose as submissive as you can manage with Spider still in your arms, “You will not approve of who he is,”

And with that, you put Spider down in the sand as you walk over to Hawnu. The demon’s head is resting on the other side of Hawnu’s back, blissfully hidden, and with the new tweng and cloak, he doesn’t immediately stand out unless anyone cared to look at his feet or hands. Taking hold of the demon’s short hair, you take a deep breath before lifting his head up for your Toruk Makto to see.

Immediately, there’s an outcry from the Olo’eyktan and Neytiri, and then from behind, the Metkayina Tsahìk hisses furiously as she comes up to stand beside her mate. Your eyes, however, are only trained on Neytiri as she pulls her blade and comes running towards you - or rather, towards the demon. Flipping Spider onto your back, you step between Neytiri and the demon, hissing ferociously at her as you pull your own blade out to protect your own small family.

“Step aside, sister,” Neytiri sneers, her anger, and fury petrifying as it’s directed at you.

“No,” You try to sound brave, but your voice comes out unsteady and small as it leaves your lips, your fear so obvious to everyone around you.

“He drowned,” Jake Sully says, his face crumbling in a frown as he pulls Neytiri back by her shoulder. “I drowned him,”

“I couldn’t just leave him, Sir,” Spider speaks up from your back and just like that, your fear disappears, replaced by a resolve so strong even the Great Mother couldn’t take it away from you.

“You couldn’t just… -” Jake Sully starts but stops abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Lo’ak and I were looking for you when the ship went down and I found him on the bottom of the sea just lying there,” Spider continues, his voice desperate, “He’s my father, Sir,”

Closing your eyes, you let your mind go through every possibility before you make up your mind. Hawnu was close by, the demon already on his back if you needed a quick escape. Opening your eyes again, you stare directly into Jake Sully’s eyes as you sheath your blade.

“You were once a demon from the skies, now; you are Toruk Makto, the leader of our people, a child of Eywa,” You present so forcefully that his ears slick back against his skull while his tail whips behind him. The challenge is clear as day in Jake Sully’s eyes, but he still looked conflicted.

“It’s not up to me to decide anymore, Y/n,” He mumbles as he steps aside.

“Ma Jake, what are you saying?” Neytiri turns to him, her rage almost brimming over as she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina clans, I come to you seeking help. Will you help me?” You direct your question to the leader, not knowing if you want him to agree or not. You watch as the Olo’eyktan looks down at his own furious mate, at Neytiri’s anger, and then at Jake, his face just as conflicted as your heart.

“I will not leave his side,” Jake Sully offers, making Neytiri cry out in outer outrage at her mate’s words.

“Then we will offer help,” The Olo’eyktan says reluctantly before turning to send some of his men ahead.

Gently, you let Spider down from your back, watching as he steps up to greet Hawnu before moving over to Cupcake, the female ikran greeting him excitedly with small welcoming chirps as she nudges her head against his body. Stepping closer to Hawnu, you take a deep breath as you prepare to haul the demon’s huge mass over your shoulders again, only for Jake Sully to move closer with outstretched arms, intending to help you.

But when you whip around and hiss at him, he steps back, holding his hands up, much in the same manner that the demon does. You’re still not sure what the motion means, but you figure it has something to do with meaning no harm. Although you would have liked to get help with carrying the demon, you don’t trust your old Olo’eyktan not to attempt to kill him again. Not after what he had just admitted to doing.

“She is strong, Jakesully,” Mo’at steps forward, resting her hand on his shoulder, “She will need no help with the demon,”

You don’t understand what the Tsahìk means by that but as the demon’s heavy weight slides over Hawnu’s back to fully rest on you, you couldn’t care less as you try to keep upright. You follow the Olo’eyktan to a marui pod on the outskirts of the village, the sea surrounding all but one side of it. Only one way in, only one way out, you think as you walk on tired legs. Spier holds your tail as he follows closely behind you, not yet ready to let go of you. Behind him, Jake Sully and Neteyam follow you, much to Neytiri’s great displeasure. You have a growing suspicion that this isn’t the Tsahìk’s marui pod at all.

It’s a suspicion that is confirmed when you enter the marui pod. To your surprise, the people the Olo’eyktan sent away are waiting for you inside, their shoulders squared as they stare at the demon on your shoulders. In the middle of the pod, a woven mat and supplies for the Tsahìk are set up, yet, the Tsahìk herself, is missing.

On wobbly legs, you crumble to your knees as you try your best not to drop the demon. Spider is still holding your tail, his grip harder as he refuses to let go when you bend down, trying your best to gently slide the demon off of you. It doesn’t work. It never has. With a hard thud, the demon’s bottom hits the mat before the rest of his body follows, much like an overripe banana fruit falling to the ground. Deep within you, you feel sympathy when his head hits the woven mat hard, his kuru trapped between the two.

Stepping back, you pull Spider’s head to your middle, your son still refusing to let go of your tail. His grip on you tightens when the Metkayina Tsahìk enters the pod, Mo’at closely following behind the two. The Tsahìk sneers at the demon until the Olo’eyktan, her mate, squeezes her shoulder while leveling her with a look that seems to pull her anger back from the surface.

“The demon does not deserve the Great Mother’s healing,” The Tsahìk hisses while scowling up at her mate.

“Ronal…” The Olo’eyktan hums, but his voice only seems to anger her more.

“He took our daughter,” The Tsahìk, Ronal, growls, and the news goes straight through your chest, pushing a wounded whine through your lips as you hold back fresh tears.

The demon’s betrayal seemed never-ending the more you learn about the events of that day. It colors him in a light you’ve only heard whispered before, colors him in stories from a war long since passed. This… this being before you is not the man you had come to know, yet, it undeniably still was.

“The demon has been touched by the Great Mother, Tsahìk,” Mo’at hums gently, using Ronal’s title politely, one Tsahìk to another.

“The Great Mother would not touch the likes of him,” Ronal hisses back, her finger pointing shakily at the demon.

“The Great Mother touched me,” Jake Sully offers softly, making all heads snap toward him. “And as Y/n said, I was once a demon from the skies, just like him,”

“The Toruk Makto is right,” Mo’at continued, “Eywa has spoken. As Tsahìk, it is not up to us to challenge her will,”

Ronal hisses furiously as she clutches her head, the battle so obvious to everyone in the room. Mo’at eventually takes pity on the younger Tsahìk when she steps forward, a gentle hand resting on Ronal’s forearm.

“With your permission,” She looks at Ronal and her mate before continuing, “I can offer him healing,”

Immediately, Ronal’s expression softens, gratitude washing through her body. Grabbing Mo’at’s wrist, she breathes a deep sigh before accepting her mate’s open arms, letting herself be hugged by the Olo’eyktan.

“Thank you,” The Olo’eyktan offers, his smile genuine and soft. “I will make sure that you have everything you need,”

“I will join you to Ronal’s marui to collect what I need before returning,” Mo’at hums, inclining her head minutely in appreciation.

Watching Mo’at disappear with the Tsahìk and Olo’eyktan, you let your breath out before sitting down, crossing your legs before you as you make room for Spider to sit. Jake Sully bends down to sit beside you, Neteyam tightly nestled between his own thighs as he holds his son tightly to his chest.

“How is he?” Jake Sully eventually asks as the silence stretches on.

“The demon will live,” You start, your voice unsteady, “Maybe,”

“What happened when you left?” Your old Olo’eyktan continues, his voice gentle as he stares at you.

Turning your head to actually look at him, noticing how he’s looking at you with genuine worry. His ears have rotated toward you, open and rounded, while his tail slaps lazily behind him, the soft thumping soothing as it hits the woven ground of the marui pod. It reminds you of the shame he had displayed when he had come to you with the news of Spider being taken, and just like that, your disappointment in him returns.

“Why do you care?” You huff back at him as you narrow your eyes, your hand cupping the back of Spider’s head, pressing him closer to your chest.

“Ouch… I guess I deserved that one,” Jake Sully winces, his ears pinning down flat against his skull.

The silence stretches between you while you hold your sons against your bodies, reveling in the way their hearts beat against your chests, in the way their lungs push air through them before gently letting them out. Spider and Neteyam are fast asleep where they’re held against your bigger bodies, your son’s exhausted with being strong and just like that, while looking down at them, the two of you seem to come to the same realization.

Although they were both young adults, they were still children, burdened with fighting the horrors of a war they should have never been involved in, to begin with. Although they were old enough to find mates, to go off on their own and be their own master, they were still too young to have experienced everything that they had. Holding Spider closer, you bend your head back as you feel guilt and sorrow wash through you. They had both been through a lot, had been brave and fearsome for their younger siblings and friends, for their parents. You recognized that it would take time for them to heal, time for them to work through their trauma, and to learn how to be children again before they would be able to confidently stand on their own two legs as adults.

“I went to Hell’s Gate, only to find it deserted, so I found the gates of Bridgehead City and demanded to see Colonel Miles Quaritch,” You eventually offer, a peace offering to a man who’s treated your people well.

“You did what?” Jake Sully’s head snaps to the side to stare at you so fast, you can almost hear the pain in his neck.

“They brought me to one of their bright, cold rooms with the see-through metal doors. I don’t know how long it took, but eventually, they brought Spider to me, unharmed. A deal was made to teach the recom unit the Na’vi way, to teach them to accept Eywa in their hearts and souls,” You continue quietly, noting how Jake Sully hangs on every word you say.

“And they did,” You followed, turning your head to look back at the Toruk Makto, “They learned to accept Eywa in their hearts and in their souls.”

The silence stretches once more as you let the words sink in. Jake Sully remains silent, his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought as his mind mulls over what you have just said. To your surprise, he lets you collect yourself, lets you continue with your story without uttering a single word.

“They learned to be Na’vi, each one getting to find themselves as if invisible bonds that had held them back fell away. Slowly, they started to appreciate what the Great Mother has created, each one finding their way, discovering what they were good at, and starting to contribute to the unit,” You continue, your voice growing fond as a ghost of a smile crosses your lips. It’s clear to everyone in the marui that you cared deeply for them.

“I don’t know what happened,” You eventually whisper, your heart breaking once more as you avert your eyes, closing them as you bend your head, resting your lips against Spider’s head, breathing him in to calm yourself.

“I’m sorry I allowed them to take Spider in the first place,” Jake Sully offers, his voice so soft you almost think you imagined it, “You have a strong heart Y/n, a strong spirit. It’s no wonder Hawnu chose you all those years ago.”

Mo’at walks in with supplies in her arms then, the Olo’eyktan follows closely behind her with even more stuff in his arms. Your Tsahìk directs the younger Olo’eyktan to - gently - put the supplies down when his first attempt earns him a disapproving tut from her. Mo’at looks over at your sleeping sons before guiding the Olo’eyktan to sit beside Jake Sully before she starts arranging the supplies the way she wants them. To your surprise, the big man does as he’s told with a respectful nod of his head.

“She always this firm?” The Olo’eyktan whispers once he’s crossed his feet beside Jake Sully.

“You should have seen her when I mated Neytiri,” Jake Sully whispers back, a fond grin on his face.

“I can hear you…” Mo’at hums unamused as she raises her eye at the two.

The boyish grins on the two men’s faces have you shaking your head. Seeing this freer side of the Toruk Makto makes something inside of you shift. You realize that he was cast into the role of Olo’eyktan after Tsu’tey’s death in the battle for the Vitraya Ramunong, a role he was never meant to have, yet, one he did his best to fulfill. Being from the stars, from this planet Earth, Jake Sully had done well by your people as a leader, had given everything to protect and defend them.

Watching as Mo’at mixed herbs, pastes, and salves, preparing leaves and cleaning bowls, you let your mind go pleasantly blank for the first time in what felt like forever. The sea beyond the marui pod washes up against the roots, creating a comforting sound, yet, you keep your eyes closed as you hold your sleeping son close. Mo’at distantly hums about bruised bones and ribs, huffing to herself about how such a big man could be this fragile. After a while, the Olo’eyktan gets up to his feet to resume his duties as leader, promising to bring food after the community meal is finished.

By the time you open your eyes again, Mo’at has finished up, the demon draped in a blanket with his wounds and bruised bones dressed. Jake Sully is staring at him, his face conflicted as his mind races silently while he holds onto a still-sleeping Neteyam, the young man so obviously beyond exhausted. Looking down at Spider, the most beautiful brown eyes you have ever seen in your life stares back at you through the mask.

“I see you,” You whisper gently as you cup your son’s face, smiling down at him.

“I see you, mom,” Spider replies, a soft smile of his own as he’s looking up at you.

“Are you well?” The question makes him frown for a moment before he nods his head.

“I’m tired,” He responds before frowning, “Will he be alright?”

“Your father will be just fine,” You smile reassuringly back at him, noting how his face opens with delight when you acknowledge the demon as his father.

“I don’t know what happened, mom,” Spider whispers, his small, strong hands fiddling with your braid, “One moment he was fine and then he just… snapped?”

“It’s alright, Spider. His actions are not your fault,” You comfort him, trying your best to make him understand that he had no part in his father’s doings.

“When he took me, he went after more villages and when no one said anything, he sent the sky people out to hunt the tulkuns, mom,” Spider’s voice is so small it makes your heart break for him.

“Did he kill any of them?” You dread the answer, but you need to know.

“No,” Jake Sully replies instead, “They wounded Ronal’s spirit sister, forcing her and her young calf to the surface, leaving them for me to find. The mother and calf are healing well,”

Closing your eyes, you’re unable to keep back the wounded sound that leaves you. It feels as if your strength is leaving your body as your heart mourns for the man you had come to know. Anger and betrayal filled its place, poisoning what was left of the hope you still held onto.

“He killed the Olo’eyktan’s ilu before burning the Ta'unui village down, but he stopped the sky people from doing what they usually do with the tulkun,” Spider offers and although it should have been a small relief to know that he had ordered the sky people to stop the hunt, it wasn’t.

“He got my attention, which was what he wanted,” Jake Sully huffs humorlessly, “He went after another tulkun later on, and while our kids tried to save it, he managed to take three of them,”

“Lo’ak, Tuk and Tsireya, Ronal and Tonowari’s daughter,” Sider mumbles shamefully, his voice so small.

“It wasn’t your fault, bro,” Neteyam adds sleepily, his voice rough from just having awoken.

“I could have done something, I should have done more…” Spider counters and it makes Neteyam huff humorlessly, much like his father.

“Like what, gotten yourself killed?” The deadpan expression Neteyam sends him makes your son growl. Had he been born with ears and a tail, they would be slicked back and thrashing.

“When Payakan, Lo’ak’s tulkun, crashed the ship, me and Lo’ak went looking for Spider. That guy, Prager, and the bald one came after us with their guns, but the bald one didn’t really shoot at us, his aim was horrible,” Neteyam chuckles, as he grins.

“Wainfleet is a decorated marksman, Neteyam,” Jake Sully offers, but you don’t understand what it means. “If he had wanted you dead, you would have been dead with the first bullet he fired,”

The truth of the words brings a silence over the marui pod as the reality of what could have happened sinks in. Closing your eyes, you hold Spider’s head close to you in an attempt at comforting yourself while you let yourself hope that Lyle had missed with the intent of not hurting the children. At best, it was a hope to comfort yourself as the man was no more.

“What you did was stupid,” Jake Sully grounds out, his voice angry before he sighs and presses Neteyam’s head to his chest again, “But I have never been more proud to call myself your father,”

“That goes for you too, Lo’ak,” The Toruk Makto raises his voice before turning his head to look toward the seaside opening of the marui pod. “Come on out, son,”

Lo’ak’s head pokes out from the brim of the pod, his ears flat against his head as he slowly, but surely steps out from where he had been hiding. The boy’s tail is wrapped tightly against his thigh as he’s unable to lift his head or meet his father’s eyes.

“Are you not angry, Sir?” Lo’ak all but whispers, his ears rotating toward his father before snapping back again.

“Oh, I’m furious,” Jake Sully chuckles as a grin spreads across his face, “And the two of you will be grounded for life, but I have never been more proud in my life,”

Reaching out a hand for his youngest son, Jake Sully waits for his words to sink in and when they do, Lo’ak’s head snaps up with confusion as he stares at his father. Reluctantly, he steps forward, one foot at a time until he’s within his father’s reach. He’s helpless against the hand that grabs his waist and before he knows it, he’s pulled down into his father’s lap.

Smiling at the display before you, you watch as Jake Sully breathes in the scent of his boys as he holds them close, but most of all, you smile at the way Lo’ak curls up against his older brother, his smaller hands holding onto him for dear life. You can’t imagine how he must have felt when he thought he had lost his brother, but by the way silent tears fall from his clenched shut eyes, the loss had been painful in a way he has been unable to express. Neteyam wraps him up as well as he’s able to, holding onto his brother as they rest against their father’s chest. You lose time of how long you sit there, but when Mo’at returns to the marui pod, Neytiri follows behind.

“Ma Jake, you must come home,” She demands, her eyes not leaving the demon on the ground.

“Neytiri, I can’t do that. I promised I wouldn’t leave Quaritch’s side,” Jake Sully sighs, his ears flat against his skull as his arms tighten minutely around his sons.

“The demon should die for what he has done,” Neytiri hisses, uncrossing her arms as she points at him.

It brings an instantly furious growl from your lips as you jump to your feet to stand between them, blocking Neytiri’s path. The Toruk Makto doesn’t get up from the floor, but his deep sigh is enough to bring Neytiri’s focus back on him.

“Neytiri, Eywa has spoken and I have given my word to Tonowari, I will not break it,” He speaks with a patience you do not feel, “My word is all I have left, Neytiri,”

Jake Sully’s vulnerability seems to touch something deep within her as Neytiri growls and whines before clutching her head in frustration, her ears pinning back helplessly. Had you been able to move from your current place, you would have offered the older woman comfort, but as you are, you stand frozen before the demon with your son on your hips, tucked away from Neytiri. In the end, Neytiri lowers her arms as she helplessly looks at you, her eyes wide and filled with fear, and just like that, you can’t blame her.

“Thank you, sister,” Your voice is soft as you speak, your hand reaching out to hold her when she tightly grasps it.

Neytiri is unable to say anything, but her hand clutches yours before the other one comes up to cover your clasped hands. Her eyes have softened when she looks down at you. She looks lost and you understand that feeling. From one mother to another, you share in her desperation to keep your kid safe, to ensure that they have the best paths laid before them. Although he Great Mother had spoken, you did still not know if saving the demon would be the right one for Spider, for the whole of Pandora, but when you close your eyes at night, it is his touch that you feel behind you and just before you open them again, it is his sharp eyes that you see, leaning in to share his love with you.

Releasing your hand, Neytiri walks over to sit beside her mate and sons, her arms wrapping around both Neteyam and Lo’ak as she breathes him in, reveling in his smell. Jake Sully smiles gently before looking behind you where Mo’at works unbothered by her daughter's temper tantrum, seemingly used to it. She has pulled the blanket down from the demon’s chest, revealing the smattering of leaves protecting the pastes and salves beneath. You watch as his chest rises and falls in deep rest, the man far away from his present predicament.

“What happened next,” Jake Sully hums into the silence, his eyes sharp as he stares at nothing in particular, but his voice leaves little doubt about where he’s going with this.

“Spider and I went to look for you, diving around the ship in hopes to find you. We split up and then… Well, I found you,” Lo’ak started, refusing to lift his head from Neteyam’s shoulder.

“And then I found him,” Spider continues, his eyes filling with tears as he clutches harder onto your braid, “At first I left him. He’s caused so much pain, so much suffering and I just… Everyone would be so much better without him, but mom, he’s my father,”

Spider’s tears are falling, fat and clear, as he squeezes his eyes shut, afraid to see your reaction. Shuffling him over to your front, you wrap both arms around him as he sobs. Behind your back, his small hands find your braid again as he clutches onto it tightly, his small legs locking at the small of your back. Shushing him, you cup the back of his head while comforting him, feeling your heart clench painfully at the fact that there is nothing you can do to help him except to just be there for him. Eventually, he lifts his head from your shoulder as he looks up at you, tears hanging from his big brown eyes and you can find no fault in his reasoning.

“I know, I know,” You smile down at him, bending to rest your forehead on his through the mask on his face, “It’s alright,”

When you lift your head from his, even Jake Sully seems like he reluctantly agrees with your son’s compassion. Neytiri’s still scowling, but her features don’t look as hard as they previously had, the older woman obviously struggling to find fault in your son’s reasoning, despite the fact that his father is such a man.

“I got him out of the wreck and up to the surface, pulling him with me to the nearest rock, but by then he was already waking up. He asked me to come with him, mom, but I couldn’t go with him,” Spider continues, his voice growing sadder with each word, “He looked so sad when I left him, mom,”

The confession breaks you, the sudden intake of air into your lungs threatening to choke you. He had asked Spider to come with him, had even looked sad when Spider refused, leaving him behind for Cupcake to deal with. Could there still be something within him that longed for the life he had turned his back on? Turning your head, you stare at the demon, noting how carefree he looks in his sleep. It’s not the peaceful rest he had worn before, but like this, he looks as if there’s still hope for change in him.

“I’ll find a way, Spider,” You whisper into his hair, closing your eyes as you breathe him in to calm yourself, “I swear, I will find a way,”

The promise seemed to calm your son’s nerves as the death grip he had on your kuru eased. You have a need to bounce him in your arms like you did when he was a baby, but you bite your cheek to refrain from doing so, reminding yourself that he was on the cusp of adulthood. Still, the need resided deep within you. Holding him close like this would have to be enough, however. Turning around, you’re surprised to see the Olo’eyktan in the opening, his big frame resting against the marui pod while he waits.

“Olo’eyktan,” You mutter, clumsily greeting him.

“There is no need for this,” His voice rumbles as he steps inside, only to come to a stop before you. “It takes a strong heart and a mighty spirit to stand up to your father like that, little warrior,”

You watch as Jake Sully gets to his feet, his arms still clutching onto both of his sons as he grunts, refusing to put them down, much the same way you are. Behind the strength he projects, you realize that he’s just as afraid of waking up to find that this had just been a dream. Neteyam and Lo’ak look huge in his arms, dwarfing their father where they’re clutching onto him with their long legs. Still, Jake Sully greets the Olo’eyktan with a nod, as if any of this was normal.

“Tonowari,” Jake Sully offers, his sons quickly mumbling a formal greeting as their father spreads his legs to even out their weight.

“You look tired, my friend. Why don’t you take your family home to rest?” The Olo’eyktan, Tonwari, hums, a gentle smile on his face.

“Can’t do that, I promised I wouldn’t leave Quaritch’s side,” Jake Sully grunts back, the weight of his sons obviously heavy in his tired arms.

“The Tsahìk has informed me that the demon will not wake from his sleep any time soon, and although I admire the loyalty to your promise, I would feel better if you took your family home,” Tonowari continues, his big hands cupping both Neteyam and Lo’ak’s heads as his thumb gently caresses them while he waits for the Toruk Makto to decide, “I will have warriors watching the pod,”

That seems to do it. Jake Sully sighs heavily as he bends his head for a short moment before looking up at Tonowari, his eyes brimming with emotions as his smile stretches unevenly.

“Thank you, my friend,” He breathes with relief as Neytiri comes up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder to show her support.

“Tsireya and Ronal have left food in your kelku. Do me a favor and don’t let me see you tomorrow,” Tonowari grins as Jake Sully chuckles with tears in his eyes, the Toruk Mako struggling to keep his emotions at bay.

“Thank you,” Neytiri hums as Jake Sully turns to leave.

“Y/n…” He calls to you, but nothing follows.

No words are needed for what your old Olo’eyktan is trying to say. It’s written so clearly in the way his eyes glow while he looks at you, in the way his arms no doubt burn under the weight of his sons. It’s in his voice, in his breath, and in his presence. And even though she won’t say it, even though she doesn’t agree with saving the demon, it's in Neytiri’s smile, as she looks at you, from the entrance.

“I will place warriors to stand guard on the outside, but your Tsahìk tells me that your companion will not wake any time soon,” Tonowari relays the message to you too, even though you had just heard it.

“There is a sleeping draft in the food I have given him,” Mo’at hums as she finishes redressing the demon’s wounds.

The older woman has been suspiciously quiet since arriving in the village, her eyes observing where her mouth does not. You figure that she knows more than she’s letting on, more than she’s ready to relay - or, perhaps, more than you are ready to know. Taking a deep breath, you nod your head in understanding.

“Tomorrow, I will teach you how to dress his wounds,” It’s spoken with such finality that you take a moment to understand what she’s saying.

You hadn’t expected Mo’at to handle the demon for you, but a small part of you had hoped that you could steer clear of the task. Especially after the whole cave incident. Still, you understood that he was your responsibility and that his healing ultimately would be up to you. Getting a better hold on Spider, you turn back to the big leader in front of you.

“There is food in that basket,” He hums, presenting a huge basket by the entrance that you hadn’t noticed before now. “I will come by tomorrow morning to help you settle in, but nesting materials were brought in earlier. This will be your kelku for as long as you stay here, so make yourselves comfortable,”

“Thank you, Olo’eyktan,” You nod your head, grateful that you were taken care of like this.

“Your son has already settled into the village, although new to the sea. He will be safe even without your eyes on him,” Tonowari smiles gently down at you as he reaches a hand out to grab Spider’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I will see you tomorrow,” Mo’at hums as she passes you, effectively leaving you behind.

With your Tsahìk’s exit, Tonowari leaves the marui pod, your new kelku, while the warriors who had been standing guard on the inside followed their Olo’eyktan. The flap to the kelku is closed behind the last warrior and just like that, you were left alone with your son and his father. Breathing a sigh of relief and dread, you look down at your son, finding his beautiful brown eyes already looking up at you. You didn’t know how to settle the unease you felt deep within you, so when Spider unlocked his legs around your waist, started building your nest to keep you occupied.

By the time the nest was finished and your heads hit the soft materials, your worries had numbed your mind enough for you to feel lifeless. Sleep, luckily, greeted you fairly quickly. Your exhaustion from the past few weeks catching up with you. Pulling Spider closer, you fell into a sleep so deep not even the demon could pull you out of it. Tomorrow would bring new sets of worries, new challenges you weren’t ready to tackle yet, but for now, you let your body relax, knowing that your son was safe where he slept in your arms.

Chapter 15 | Masterpost | Chapter 17

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shaylixie · 10 months

Text

Coming Home

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: Angst. Fluff. Smut.

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader

Requested: No.

Part 1

Summary: Now in South Africa after the fight, you get an unexpected visitor.

Warnings / Contains: Language; smut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

A/N: Looks like this fic may end up having several parts...☺️ As always, enjoy! Feedback welcomed.🤍

It's been a few days and you're finally settled in at home in your house that you never sold. Your mom has been staying with you, nursing you while you deal with your heartbreak. It's a heartbreak of her own too - even though she only met Chan twice, she loved him. Truly adored him. They called every week and spoke almost as much as you did.

You had only exchanged one message with Chan.

- "I love you, y/n."

- "I'll always love you, Christopher."

- "Come home to me?"

You could picture his pleading eyes...his gentle voice that he always used for you.

You didn't reply.

Now sitting on the couch, your phone forgotten in your room, you cried on your mom's shoulder. There was a knock on the door and your best friend came in with packets of God knows what and a whole lot of love. You had a mutually tearful and bittersweet reunion and then you switched to crying on her shoulder, recounting everything. She held you and soothed you and your mom looked upon her gratefully. They had always been close too. Eventually, you stopped crying and your friend accompanied you to the bathroom where you washed your face and tried to freshen up.

"Hey, I brought your favourite snacks and drinks. That hill we always used to go to as teens...it's still our spot, huh? Let's go. It'll be fun! You need some fresh air, babe."

You agreed reluctantly and kissed your mom goodbye. Getting into the car, your friend put on all your favourite music, which cheered you up just a little. You recounted all the stories from your years together as your drove until you were genuinely laughing. You felt lighter already, and you were grateful for your friend next to you. God, how you missed her. You went on to have what you didn't realise at the time was one of the most healing, memorable times with your best friend whom you adored.

When you came back home, there were three things you didn't expect. Your best friend about to throw her shoe; your mom looking guilty but happy; and Chan. In your house. In South Africa. And not in South Korea. But here. In South Africa. Where you live.

If you weren't frozen in place, you would have turned around and walked out - not because you were upset at seeing him, but just because you were so shocked, you didn't know what to do. But instead, that shock kept you rooted in place, staring at him. It's only when your mom shouted your best friend's name, followed by a "NO, DON'T!!" did you realise what was happening. You unfrozen just in time to see your best friend's shoe sail past Chan, who dodged it just in time. She stepped forward ready to do...something, and you held her back.

"Y/b/f/n, it's okay. It's not his fault. It's okay."

You stepped in front of her and then walked slowly towards Chan, as if not believing he's actually there.

"I'm so sorry...I can explain..." says Chan, looking sheepily between you and your best friend.

"You better," she replied. "But I don't want to hear it. Tell y/n."

She turned towards your mother and put her arm around her shoulders, guiding her out of the room doing a subtle, awkward hop without her right shoe. It was now just you and Chan.

"What are you...how are you here? How did you even-...I never told you-" you start.

"Shhh, shhh," Chan cooes, stepping towards you and cradling your head. You don't stop him. "I called your mom...told her I'm booking a ticket to see you and I'm not taking no for an answer. We spoke for a while and then she gave me this address. I had to see you, y/n."

"Why?" you ask, tears pricking the back of your eyes.

"Because I can't live without you. Because I'd rather travel 17 hours to see you be upset with me than live another second without you. I don't care what you say, y/n...whether you believe you "deserve me" or not...I'm here because I love you. I'm in love with you. And yeah, shit hasn't been great between us lately, and we're both at fault for that - but I want to fix it, and I know you do too. You're pushing me away because you think you don't deserve me for whatever reason, but it's not gonna work. I see right through you. I know you love me, whether you want to or not."

"But I don't deserve you, Chris," the tears falling down your cheek as you step back to look at him. "I said some horrible things. You're so good to me...so so good to me. And I was a total bitch. I took my anger and frustration and exhaustion out on you and...and "I'm sorry" will never be enough. You deserve to be treated completely opposite to how I treated you...it wasn't fair on you. It'll never be okay."

"So you'd treat me like that again?" he asks.

"What? No! Never again! I'll never make that mistake again," you say earnestly.

"Exactly my point. You know you made a mistake and you don't plan on repeating it. And so did I. Fuck, y/n. I wasn't any better myself. We were both toxic in that moment...but we can be better. Together. I'm willing to try if you are...and there's no one else I'd rather try with. This is our first big fight...and hopefully our last if we can help it. In a way, it's good, because now we know what boundaries we need and where we went wrong. We can heal together. That's what relationships are for, right? We might make mistakes but as long as they're not detrimental to us and we can learn and grow together, then we should. You feel like a monster rn...I know because so do I. But...but we don't have to stay monsters. We can heal. Together. If you'll have me..."

He steps towards you, as if in invitation, and you can't help it any longer. Chan's words shift something in you. You knew you could never live without him either, no matter how hard you'd try. You know that you never wanted to leave him in the first place. And you know that, if he's willing to give you a chance after all that, you're willing to make it up to him - to treat him better than you ever had before and to become someone who does deserve him, who is worthy of him, because you refuse to see him with anyone that isn't you. You refuse to let this beautiful, perfect man go. You crash into him and hold him against you, not planning to let go. This is where you belong. Whether on one continent or another, you belong with Chan. And he belongs with you. He lifts you up and holds you against him, your legs wrapped against his waist and your head on his shoulder, tears soaking his shirt. You feel his own tears fall onto you, and the two of you stay holding each other.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," you say softly. "And for raising my voice at you like that...I promise to never do it again. Not if it's in anger. I'll speak to you with respect, no matter what. Because I respect you, Chan. And I'm sorry for not acting like it before."

He smiles against you. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you too, y/n. And for swearing at you. I promise to never shout at you and swear at you in anger ever again, no matter how mad I get. Okay, sweetheart? I'm sorry."

You squeeze him for a second. "I forgive you. I'm sorry too. So so sorry, Chris."

"I forgive you, baby."

You chuckle then. "Boundaries, right?"

He laughs into your shoulder. "See? We're doing a good job already."

From the other side of the door, you hear a pair of sniffs. Rolling your eyes as Chan laughs and puts you down, you call out, "You can come in now!"

Your mom and best friend stumble in, not bothering to hide their tears.

"So much for privacy huh?" you giggle.

"We weren't eavesdropping at first, but..." your best friend starts.

"-it's not our fault you two speak so loud!" your mother finishes. "Come here, my son!" she calls out to Chan before swallowing him in her embrace.

Your best friend pulls you into an embrace of her own and then wipes your cheeks as you do the same for her. She sighs. "Guess I have to apologise now." You can't help but bark out a laugh.

She turns to Chan. "Chan...I'm sorry for throwing my shoe at you. I was just really mad that you hurt my best friend. I'm also sorry it missed...I think it would have made a funny story if you did get hit by it- Ow!" she yelps as you elbow her playfully. She sighs again. "No but really, I am sorry. I threw it without even thinking about how you travelled all the way here just for her...I just saw you and got mad. I'm sorry. I hope we can start off on a better note from now?"

Chan can't help but laugh before he pulls your best friend into a hug. "It's okay. I'm glad my girl has someone like you looking out for her, throwing shoes and all. And I deserved it, to be honest. I'm also sorry it missed."

"Chan!" you shout. "I mean...Chan!" you whisper-shout. "Don't say that."

He laughs at your poor yet playful attempt to conform to the new boundary, and walks to pick up your friend's shoe for her. "Here. Allow me."

He slips it onto her foot and she looks at you, fighting a grin. "Maybe he is a keeper..."

You all laugh, and your mother holds Chan once more, making your heart swell at your little family.

That evening, you all dined together and then hugged your mom and your best friend goodbye. You turned to look at Chan then...really look at him. You held his waist as you admired his strong nose ridge, his full lips and his tired eyes, the puffiness of it from all the crying you both did. But standing here in your kitchen, in your house here in your home country, he looked as handsome as ever. Had he gotten even more handsome? You couldn't tell. Chan's ears were turning red now.

"What?"

"Nothing," you giggled. "May I kiss you?"

It was Chan's turn to giggle.

"You may, my lady."

You pressed your lips against his, and he returned the favour. You savoured the feeling of his soft, plump, lips moving smoothly against yours. You couldn't help it. You let out a soft moan, making Chan smile against you.

"God, I missed this," he whispers. "I missed you. So much. I missed making you moan like this."

"Mhm? Like what, Chan?"

"Like this, baby."

He kissed you again, more deliberately this time. His lips moved in time with yours, and he sucked your bottom lip for a second, asking for entry. You submitted. He slipped the tip of his tongue in your mouth, stealing a quick taste. At the feel of your tongue against his, he pulled you stark against him, and then manoeuvred his tongue in deeper, fully tasting you now. His tongue moved softly, deftly, agonisingly against yours. He twisted it around your own, and you followed him before he moved to suck on your lip, biting it softly, making you moan that sweet moan that he loves so much. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss.

"Mmmm, like that," he said, his voice softer and thicker now.

You gazed at him for a long second and the ran your hands through his messy curls, down his face to his neck. You leaned against him as you tip toed to press soft kisses to his neck, letting them become progressively sloppier as you went down. You fumbled with the edge of his shirt, and he pulled it off within seconds. You continued kissing and sucking and licking a trail until you were on your knees before him. Your fingers went to the drawstrings of his sweatpants and undid them, but before you pulled his pants down, you looked up at him.

"Can I make it up to you, baby? Or at least start? Promise I'll make you feel good. Promise I'll show you how sorry I am..."

"Fuck," he breathed out. He gathered your hair in a messy pony tail and then said, "Yes, princess."

You pulled his sweats and his boxers down then and watched as his painfully hard cock sprung free. You kitten licked his pre cum once as he threw his head back, shutting his eyes. You kissed his red, swollen tip then and looked at him, his eyes still squeezed shut. Kissing down his long, thick length, you gently grabbed his balls and began massaging them.

"Y/n, please," Chan moaned.

You licked from the bottom of his cock to the tip, where more pre cum pooled. "I know, Channie, I know." You took him as far as you could into your throat then and stayed there for a few seconds, gagging. Chris moaned and you started moving then, bobbing your head up and down and pumping your fist over what your mouth couldn't reach. You found your rhythm and started moving in a way that made Chan grip the counter behind him, moaning your name.

"That's it, baby girl. Just like that. Ahhh- fuck...I'm...I'm not gonna last long-"

You pulled back and continued pumping his length with your hands. "You wanna cum in my mouth, Channie?" You licked his tip again, tongue tracing his slit. He shivered and cursed.

"Fuck, please y/n. Please, baby."

You buried his cock in your throat again then, sucking him and coating the throbbing cock in your spit. Chan couldn't hold it back anymore. He pushed your head gently as far against his pelvis as you could manage and came, spilling himself down your throat. You swallowed every bit of it and licked your lips, breathing in his delicious musk. Chan slumped against the counter after helping you to your feet.

"That was...that was...shit. It was amazing, baby. You're amazing," he panted out.

You leaned in to kiss him, and he groaned as he tasted himself on your tongue. Once he recovered, he stepped towards you and pulled off your own top, pleased to see no bra. He tugged on one nipple with his teeth before licking it and blowing on it. You moaned his name, and begged him to kiss you. He obliged as his hands moved to your waistband, taking your own pants off. Leaving you in only your panties, Chan picked you up and lifted you over his shoulder, causing you to squeal. He slapped your ass, grinning, and then walked into your bedroom, dropping you excitedly on the bed, hard again at the thought of all he's going to do to you tonight.

Taglist: @yaorzu-blog @bahnghannah0697 @lizzetmv @idunnomanmynamewastaken @hiddlestandom @skzswife

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