#i don’t know what i did to deserve this but i know it couldn’t have been that bad to deserve all of this
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star2fishmeg · 2 days ago
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Can I get an ANGST 110 with luke please 🙏
Thank you for requesting <3 - Happy New Year!
ANGST #110 "I'm not jealous, fuck off."
📞 dialling…
Hand gripped around his wrist, y/n dragged Luke into Nico’s empty kitchen, the bright lights in stark contrast with the disco lights in the living room. He didn’t protest, he followed like a dog to the furthest corner away from the doorway. 
“Angel, I’m sorry-” he began, nerves choking him, but he deserved it. He knew he deserved her irritation, the fire two seconds away from tearing through him.
They stopped and she spun around to face him, dropping his wrist and she folded her arms over her chest with a wild, icy glare in her eyes and eyebrows knitted so deep it surely ached. It was his fault, though. They wouldn’t have been there if Luke had just dropped it but no, he couldn’t. Luke ran his hand over his face, glancing at the ceiling before back to her and he sighed. Deeply.
“-What are you sorry for? Do you even know why you’re apologising? Or are you just saying that, so I’ll forgive you and move on?” she snapped, trying to keep her voice low. Her heart thundered in her chest, practically feeling adrenaline surge through every individual vein as angry heat prickled up her neck. 
He almost winced when the sharpness of her tone left her mouth. Y/n never raised her voice at him, no matter how many times his career got in the way of plans or their lives. His stomach twisted in a way he could only describe as a thorn in his side prodding at him, a tightness in his chest and regrettably, he raised his voice back, “He was flirting with you, I know how guys flirt, y/n! I flirted with you. Excuse me for showing him that you’re in a relationship but he clearly couldn’t see the necklace with my initial on.”
‘May Nico Hischier sleep with cold pillows for making the music loud enough to muffle out voices.’ That’s what they thought as they exhaled in unison, y/n pinching her nose bridge before pointing at his chest firmly, but not touching him. It was his fault and only his, deep down he knew that but the pride that he wore like a crown refused to let him accept that. All it took for his instincts to kick off was another guy and y/n to click instantly, easily, laughing and flowing through conversation as if they’d been longtime friends. Then Luke intervened, and suddenly eyes were closing in on them.
“I don’t need you to do that! I would have rejected him anyway, Luke.” She exasperated. Luke’s scowl deepened, but his heart ached. “I didn’t need you to be a diva about it. I don’t know why you think I’d accept his advances; did you really think I leave you like that?”
“Was not a diva,” he pouted slightly, scoffing, “and no. It’s got nothing to do with you! You’re never the problem-”
Her face softened, moving her weight onto one hip and lips pulled into a smirk. The way he pouted, his eyes shifting to the side and how the aggression in his tone had fallen into a sulk, almost, a snarky sulk.
She interrupted him, “-Lu, are you jealous?” 
“I’m not jealous, fuck off. Why would I be jealous of him? My curls are way better than his and he’s not even that tall or whatever. Bet he couldn’t make you genuinely laugh even if he tried.” Luke rambled, the snark in his voice slowly fading the more the words tumbled from his mouth and the insecurity he tried to swallow rang through her ears loud and clear. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to push something back, soldier through his feelings.
“Oh, Lu, c’mere.” Y/n opened her arms and wrapped them around his waist, pressing her ear to his chest and gradually, ire seeped out and vanished into thin air, the security of his arms around her body replacing it with the love that belonged there. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, my love. I’m all yours and I love you. What’s really the matter?”
He exhaled, body getting that floaty feeling once back in her arms again and the anger gone. He sniffed, holding her tight to his chest and voice quiet and rumbly, “I love you too. I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way and I…I don’t know, got scared that you’d leave me for someone better because you deserve the best. Saw how easily you were talking and wished that was how we were in the beginning, but I was such an awkward dumbass. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for being a dick.”
“You were my awkward dumbass, though. I don’t want anyone but you, okay? There’s no-one better than my Loverboy and his cute smile and curls that are way better than anyone else’s. So, thank you for apologising.” 
A slight movement caught the corner of Luke’s eye. The cause for his little green demon to make a fool of not only himself, but y/n too. Pulling back slightly, he dipped down to her level, pressing his lips to y/n’s tenderly with his hand sliding to cup her cheek - his other situated on her waist and thumb rubbing the fabric of her top. He kissed her slowly, passionately and little sparks of excitement tingled to her chest and down to her stomach, hands gliding down his waist to his hips, where fingers hooked around his beltloops to tug him closer.  
“Hey, y/n, they’re playing beer pong and- oh shit, my bad.” The guy from earlier stumbled in, eyes widening at the sight and he awkwardly backed away. 
“You saw him coming, didn’t you?” she mumbled into Luke’s lips, only to receive a grin as his answer, “Oh my God, you’re such a dumbass. C’mere.”
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the-winter-spider · 23 hours ago
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Say Don't Go | Part 7
College!Hockey Bucky x Reader AU
Word Count: 4.1k
Warnings: Minor Character Death
A/N: Not too much angst in this chapter, i feel like this one is a filler!
Masterpost
----
The parking lot was eerily quiet as Natasha followed Steve’s hurried steps, her heels clicking against the asphalt in contrast to his heavy boots. His shoulders were tense, the kind of tension that spoke of unspoken words and unresolved anger.
“Steve, wait,” she called after him, but he didn’t stop. He reached his truck and yanked open the door, sliding inside with the force of his frustration.
Natasha didn’t hesitate. She opened the passenger door and climbed in beside him, the faint smell of leather and pine greeting her. Steve didn’t acknowledge her, his jaw tight as he shoved the key into the ignition.
The car roared to life, and as the engine settled, a familiar tune began to play—Super Trouper. Steve’s face hardened. Without hesitation, he ejected the CD and tossed it into the backseat, his hand moving with an abruptness that made Natasha blink.
Her eyes followed the arc of the CD case as it landed on the floor, face up. The handwritten title caught her attention: “Stevie’s and Bee’s 80s Mix Tape.”
She frowned, the weight of the situation settling heavier in her chest. “She didn’t deserve that, you know,” Natasha said, her voice quiet but firm.
Steve’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under his hands. He grunted, not meeting her gaze. “Yeah, well… she didn’t deserve a lot of things.”
Natasha didn’t push further. She leaned back in her seat, the tension in the cab thick enough to cut. The truck pulled out of the lot, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across Steve’s face as they drove through the city.
The drive to his apartment was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the tires against the pavement. When they arrived, Steve parked haphazardly in his usual spot and climbed out without a word. Natasha followed, her sharp eyes catching the slight sag in his shoulders as he walked to the door.
He unlocked it and held it open for her, a small courtesy that felt like muscle memory rather than intention. Once inside, Steve kicked off his boots and plopped down on the couch with a heavy sigh. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands rubbing at his face.
Natasha closed the door softly behind her and stood there for a moment, watching him. She had never seen him like this, in the short time she knew him—so visibly weighed down, like the world had finally crushed the unyielding strength he prided himself on.
She moved to the armchair across from him and sat, crossing her legs. “You gonna tell me what that was all about?”
Steve didn’t look at her, his voice muffled through his hands. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does if you’re acting like this,” she countered, her tone sharp but not unkind.
He dropped his hands and looked at her, his blue eyes clouded with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, maybe, or regret. “Nat, I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Natasha’s sharp gaze poured into Steve as she leaned against the wall of his dimly lit apartment, arms crossed, her curiosity barely restrained. Steve sat on the couch, his hands clasped together, staring at the floor as though it could absolve him of the things he’d said earlier. The things you didn’t deserve, the words felt like venom on his tongue, he felt like he was having an allergic reaction to them.
“What did you mean earlier? About a ‘trauma bond’? What was that about?” Natasha said softly but firmly
Steve’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his face working against his emotions. He leaned back, scrubbing a hand down his face as he exhaled heavily. “It’s not something I like to talk about.. Its not really my story to tell.”
Natasha didn’t budge, her arms still crossed, her sharp eyes unwavering. “I’m not asking for you. I’m asking for her, so when i go to pick up the pieces you shattered I know what I’m getting into.”
Steve sighed, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. His expression was raw, the memories clearly dragging him back to a time he’d tried to bury. “She had an older sister,” he said, his voice low. “Kate. She was… well, she wasn’t the most responsible person. She liked to party, drink, do drugs. But she was still her sister, and back then, Bee would’ve followed her anywhere.”
Natasha tilted her head, her lips pressing into a thin line as she waited. Steve hesitated before continuing, his voice thick with despair.
“It was a long time ago,” he began. “We were just kids. Wanda was still a kid. She was picking us up after school…”
----
The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the school parking lot as you and Steve shuffled out of the building. Your backpacks felt impossibly heavy, not just with the unfinished homework inside but with the weight of another long day.
Kate stood by her car, leaning casually against the driver’s side door. Her wild dark curls framed her face like a halo, but there was nothing angelic about the sharp edges of her smile. She wore her signature leather jacket, the one that always smelled faintly of cigarettes and rebellion, and waved at the two of you with a bright, almost exaggerated grin.
“Hey, troublemakers!” she called, her voice cutting through the quiet evening air. Her tone was carefree, as always, but something about it felt off.
Steve beamed and picked up his pace, always eager to be around her. You hesitated, your steps faltering as unease curled low in your stomach. Something wasn’t right. Her grin was too wide, her stance too loose, like the ground beneath her wasn’t quite steady.
“Katie,” you said cautiously, your voice barely more than a whisper as you approached the car. “Are you… okay?”
Her response came quick, almost too quick. “Of course I am, squirt,” she said, ruffling your hair like she always did. But there was a slur to her words, so faint you wondered if you’d imagined it. Steve didn’t seem to notice; he never did. To him, Kate ‘the great’ was untouchable, the picture of freedom and confidence that neither of you had yet figured out for yourselves.
“Let’s go,” she said, swinging the driver’s door open with a flourish. “I’ve got a couple of stops to make before I drop you two off.”
You froze, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest. “A couple of stops?” you repeated, your voice tight.
Steve frowned, looking at you with confusion as he tossed his backpack into the back seat. “What’s the big deal, Bee? We’ll be home soon, and we can start on the poster board then.”
You shook your head, your pulse quickening. “I wanna go now,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to steady it. “Kate, can’t you just take us straight home? We have a lot of work to do.”
She laughed, the sound light and airy, like you’d told a joke she couldn’t get enough of. “Relax, Bumble. I’d never let anything happen to you two. You know that.”
But you didn’t know that. Not anymore. Her words didn’t soothe you; they only made the knot in your stomach tighten. “Please, Kate,” you tried again, softer this time. “Just take us home. You don’t look okay.”
Her grin faltered for the briefest moment, a crack in the mask she wore so well. “Don’t look okay?” she repeated, her tone sharper now, defensive. “What does that even mean? You think I can’t take care of you?”
“It’s not that,” you said quickly, tears stinging your eyes. “I just—”
“Do you trust me?” she cut in, her voice low and serious. Her eyes bore into yours, challenging, daring you to answer.
You hesitated. You wanted to say yes. To tell her that of course, you trusted her, that she’d always been there for you. But you couldn’t. Not now. Not when every instinct you had was screaming that something wasn’t right.
“No,” you whispered, the word falling from your lips before you could stop it.
The silence that followed was deafening. Kate’s face fell, her expression unreadable as she stared at you. For a moment, you thought she might actually listen, might see the fear in your eyes and realize you were just trying to protect her, to protect all of you.
But then she laughed again, shaking her head as she slid into the driver’s seat. “Well, that’s too bad, Bumble bee,” she said, her voice forced, the lightness of it ringing hollow. “I guess you’ll just have to learn to loosen up.”
The ride was tense from the moment the engine roared to life. Steve sat in the backseat, chatting nervously to fill the silence, his voice too bright, too eager to smooth over the cracks forming between all of you. You sat rigid in the front, your hands gripping the seatbelt so tightly your knuckles ached. Kate hummed along to the music blasting from the radio, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel like she didn’t have a care in the world.
But you couldn’t shake the unease twisting in your gut.
You opened your mouth to say something, to try one last time to convince her to turn around, but before you could, the light ahead turned red—and she didn’t stop.
The world tilted, time stretching and snapping all at once as the blare of a horn cut through the air. Kate’s laughter rang out, sharp and jarring, just seconds before the impact.
The crash was deafening. Metal crunched and twisted, glass shattered, and the car spun violently, throwing you against the door. Steve screamed from the backseat, his voice barely audible over the chaos.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, everything stilled.
The silence that followed was eerie, broken only by the distant sound of someone shouting and the faint hiss of smoke rising from the crumpled hood. Your head throbbed, your ears ringing as you opened your eyes. The world around you was wrong, tilted and broken, shards of glass glinting in the dim light.
“Kate?” you croaked, your voice weak and trembling as you turned to her. She was slumped over the wheel, blood trickling down her temple, her curls matted and dark. “Katie, wake up.”
Steve groaned from the backseat, his voice muffled and strained. “Bee… are you okay? Is she okay?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your hands shook as you reached for Wanda, your fingers brushing against her shoulder. “Katie,” you whispered again, tears streaming down your face. “Please, wake up.”
She didn’t move.
Panic clawed at your chest, each shallow breath feeling like it wasn’t enough. Wanda had always been the strong one, the fearless one. She was supposed to laugh this off, to tell you everything was fine. But now, slumped and still, she looked so small, so fragile.
“Help is coming, it has to be..” Steve said faintly, but his voice felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.
You couldn’t stop staring at her, couldn’t stop willing her to wake up. But deep down, you already knew the truth.
She wasn’t going to wake up. Not this time.
She never would again.
---
Steve’s voice pulled Natasha back to the present. His blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of his words heavy between them. “She blamed herself,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. He paused, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to physically ground himself. “It was never her fault, Kate, she ran that red light. But when she asked her… asked Bee if she trusted her, and Bee said no…” His voice cracked, and he stopped to swallow hard, his throat bobbing as he fought to stay composed. “And then—”
He trailed off, unable to finish. The memory clearly hung in the air between them like a storm cloud, thick and suffocating.
Natasha’s expression softened, her sharp features melting into something warmer as the pieces began to fall into place. “That’s why you’re so protective of her,” she said gently, her voice a quiet acknowledgment rather than a question.
Steve nodded stiffly, his jaw tight. “She doesn’t just carry her grief,” he said after a moment, his voice low but steady. “She carries mine too. She thinks about it all the time—what if she’d sat on the other side of the back seat? What if she’d argued harder? I know she does, because… because I think about it too.”
He hesitated, his hand flexing into a fist before relaxing. “That accident…” He exhaled shakily, his eyes darting to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look Natasha in the eye. “It changed everything for me. As much as I hate saying this, it gave me a new outlook on life. I realized how fragile everything is, how quickly it can all be gone. And I promised myself I wouldn’t waste time—not with people, not with anything.” He paused again, his voice quieter now. “But Y/N? She hasn’t been the same since. And she has every right not to be.”
His hand trembled as he wiped at a tear that escaped, his words coming faster, almost frantic. “But for those couple of weeks she spent with him… with Bucky… That weekend of the party, I saw her glow like I haven’t seen in so damn long.” His voice cracked again, raw with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. “And Bucky? He did that for her. In such a short time, he made her feel… alive again, in a way I’ve been trying to do for years. And now he’s just another person who’s let her down.”
Steve’s shoulders slumped, his hand dragging down his face. His voice dropped to a whisper, almost like he was talking to himself. “And now I’m another person who’s let her down too.”
He exhaled a shaky breath, wiping at his face again. “I can’t believe I just left her there. In the hallway. She looked so—god, I didn’t even wait for her. I didn’t walk her home. What the fuck is wrong with me?” His voice broke entirely at the end, the guilt weighing down every syllable.
Natasha watched him for a long moment, her sharp gaze softening as she leaned forward slightly. “Steve,” she began, her voice steady but not unkind. “You know she’s stronger than you give her credit for, right?”
Steve didn’t answer. He just stared at the floor, his hands limp at his sides, as though the guilt and fear had wrapped themselves around him, sinking into his skin and bones until there was no room for anything else.
“Steve,” Natasha pressed gently, leaning closer. “You’re not perfect. You’re human. And Y/N? She knows that. She might not say it, but she does. But you can’t keep beating yourself up for every step you miss. You care about her—you wouldn’t feel this way if you didn’t. And she knows that too.”
Steve finally looked up at her, his eyes red and brimmed with tears. He didn’t say anything, but the silent acknowledgment in his gaze spoke volumes. Natasha held his gaze for a moment longer, giving him a small, reassuring nod before leaning back, her own thoughts heavy as the weight of the room settled over them both.
----
You walked out of the arena, the heavy door swinging shut behind you with a dull clang. The night was cold, the air biting against your cheeks as you stepped into the nearly empty parking lot. Your chest felt hollow, after the very one sided conversation with Steve, and all the emotion from your talk with Bucky had drained the last bit of strength you had.
The conversation had been raw—too raw. He had apologized, stumbled over his words, trying to explain himself, trying to make things right. You’d wanted to forgive him, to reach out and let him in,, but the hurt was too fresh, the wounds still too deep, you felt too pathetic. You wanted to give yourself the benefit of the doubt but a little voice in your head that sounded an awful lot like Kate was telling you to stand your ground and grow a pair, so you did the best with what you had and left him in the hallway.
Now, as you stepped into the cool night air, the parking lot stretched out before you, dimly lit by a handful of flickering streetlights. A knot tightened in your chest as you scanned the rows of parked cars, your heart sinking as you remembered the obvious: Steve had been your ride.
You were alone.
The reality hit you like a wave, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. You wrapped your arms around yourself, your backpack feeling heavier than ever as you looked down the road that led back to your dorm. It wasn’t far—maybe a twenty-minute walk—but the thought of walking alone in the dark, with nothing but your thoughts and the eerie silence of the night, made your stomach churn.
You stood there for a moment, frozen, unsure of what to do. Your phone was in your pocket, but the idea of calling someone—anyone—felt impossible. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to explain.
The tears started before you could stop them, hot and unrelenting as they spilled down your cheeks. You swiped at them furiously, embarrassed even though no one was around to see. But the more you tried to hold it together, the harder it became.
You let out a shaky breath, your chest tightening as the weight of everything—Steve, Bucky, the past, the present, the crushing loneliness—pressed down on you all at once. The parking lot blurred through your tears, and you stood there, helpless and trembling, wishing you could just disappear into the night.
For a moment, you considered just sitting down right there on the pavement, letting the cold seep into your skin and waiting until you felt strong enough to move. But you shook the thought away, swallowing the sob that threatened to break free.
You glanced over your shoulder, half-hoping Steve might come rushing to find you, to tell you he hadn’t forgotten, or maybe Bucky would walk out and offer to walk you back, or give you a ride because that truck had to be his right? But the arena doors stayed closed, and the only sound was the faint hum of the streetlights above.
Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, you took a shaky step toward the road. Your legs felt like lead, your breath hitching as another wave of tears welled up.
The thought of calling Bucky crossed your mind briefly, but you pushed it away just as quickly. You couldn’t face him—not after everything. Not now.
So you walked. The night was quiet, the occasional car passing by, its headlights momentarily illuminating your tear-streaked face. You kept your head down, the cool breeze stinging your cheeks as you tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
But the darkness stretched on, and with every step, the ache in your chest grew. By the time you reached the halfway point, the sob you’d been holding back finally broke free, and you stopped, your shoulders shaking as you buried your face in your hands.
You didn’t know how long you stood there, crying in the middle of the empty sidewalk. But in that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just you and the crushing weight of everything you couldn’t seem to escape.
Your shoulders shook as sobs escaped your throat, your hands gripping the strap of your bag like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. All the emotions you’d been suppressing—fear, anger, hurt—came rushing to the surface, and you couldn’t stop it anymore.
---
The chapel was suffocating in its silence, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made every breath feel shallow. You sat rigid in the front row, fingers digging into the edges of the wooden pew as if letting go would send you spiraling. The pastor’s voice floated in and out of focus, reciting words about Kate’s kindness, her laughter, her unwavering spirit. Each word felt like a knife, twisting in the hollow ache that had settled deep within you.
Beside you, Steve’s hand rested firmly on your shoulder. He hadn’t let go since the service began, like he knew you might crumble if he did. His grip wasn’t just steady—it was grounding, the only thing tethering you to the here and now.
When the service ended and the soft shuffle of footsteps began to fade, you stayed rooted in your seat. The thought of standing, of moving, of stepping into a world where Kate no longer existed—it felt impossible. Steve stayed with you, silent and still, his presence an unspoken reassurance.
It wasn’t until the room had emptied, leaving only the faint scent of lilies and the echo of hushed voices, that Steve finally turned to you. His voice was soft, careful, as if speaking too loudly might break you. “Bee,” he said, hearing him finally speak made it all seem real the tears you’d been holding back spilled over, hot and unstoppable.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of the words. “It doesn’t feel real. She was—she was just here. Laughing. Yelling at me for forgetting to unplug her straightner or—God, I don’t even remember what. And now…” Your voice broke entirely, and you buried your face in your hands, the sobs wracking your body.
Steve didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the unbearable grief. “I know,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with his own sorrow. “I know, Bee. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.”
You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket, desperate for something solid. “What if I’d said yes when she asked if I trusted her?” you choked out, the guilt spilling from you like a flood. “Maybe she wouldn’t have felt like she had to prove herself. Maybe she wouldn’t have—”
“Stop.” Steve’s voice was gentle but firm as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His blue eyes, glassy with unshed tears, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. And Kate wouldn’t want you to carry this. She loved you, Bee.”
His words didn’t erase the guilt; they couldn’t. But they softened the edges, just enough to let you breathe again.
“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “How do I keep going without her? She was—she was everything, Stevie. She held everything together.”
Steve’s jaw tightened, his own grief flashing across his face before he buried it for your sake. “And you were everything to her,” he said firmly. “She loved you more than anything.” He paused, his hand finding yours and squeezing it tightly. “And I love you too, Bee. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“Thank you..” you whispered, your voice raw and trembling. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
His expression softened, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “You’ll never have to find out,” he promised. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re stuck with me. Best friends for life. No matter what.”
His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing the raw edges of your pain. For the first time that day, you allowed yourself to believe it. Steve had always been your constant, your rock, and in that moment, his promise felt like the only solid thing in a world that had been turned upside down.
You managed a small, watery smile, your voice barely audible. “Best friends for life”
Steve grinned, though his own eyes were misty. “Till the end of the line.”
Your heart clenched, but you nodded, gripping his hand as tightly as you could. “Till the end of the line.”
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lechrts · 3 days ago
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Hiii, can you do a angsty franco drabble if you haven't already ❤️
Worldwide. ✷ Franco Colapinto
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Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader
Summary: When you and him say your final goodbyes.
Word Count: 1.7k
Disclaimer/s: angst,,,,, i fear…… I….
Vera’s Voice! i think this came out alright… kinda boof ngl…. i’m So iffy when writing angst because i cant. HOPE I DID U JUSTICE THO!!! thank u for requesting ^_^
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The airport was a blur of noise and movement, the hum of conversations blending with the echoes of overhead announcements.
But in that moment, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. The world was moving around you, but you were frozen in place, standing in front of Franco with a heart that felt like it was being torn in two.
“You didn’t have to walk me in,” You said softly, trying to sound casual, but your voice wavered at the end.
“I wanted to,” Franco replied, his voice low and thick with something you couldn’t quite name. He shifted your duffel bag from one shoulder to the other, his hands restless, unsure of what to do with them.
It was as though every movement was an attempt to keep himself grounded, to stop from falling apart.
You had known this day would come.
You had known that the distance, the different directions your lives were headed in, would pull you apart eventually.
But even so, the reality of it—the fact that this was really happening—still felt like a punch to the gut.
You both walked in silence, past the shops and through the busy crowds, heading toward the international line for the security checkpoint.
There was so much to say, but the words got stuck in your throat. Every time you opened your mouth, it felt like you were going to break.
“I’m really gonna miss you,” Franco finally said, his voice soft, like he was trying to keep the sorrow hidden.
The words hit you harder than you expected. You had tried so hard to prepare for this moment, but nothing could have prepared you for the sting of hearing him say it.
“I’m gonna miss you too,” You managed to whisper, your heart aching as you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
He looked at you, his gaze full of unspoken emotion, and it nearly broke you.
Franco was always the one with the answers, the one who knew how to navigate the chaos of the world.
But right now, you could see the uncertainty in his eyes—the same uncertainty you felt swirling in your chest.
“I don’t want this to be the end,” He said, his voice rough. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Your chest tightened, the words he spoke pulling at something deep inside you. “You’re not losing me,” you whispered. “We’re just… we’re just in different places. Our lives are going in different directions, and we can’t keep pretending they’re not.”
The truth hung in the air, heavy and painful, like a weight that neither of you could escape.
Franco stopped walking, his eyes searching yours for something, anything that could change the situation. “I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But it’s hard. So hard to let go of you.”
Your throat closed up, and you forced yourself to swallow past the lump. “I know,” You repeated, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s hard for me too.”
But you knew deep down that this was the right choice, even though every part of you wanted to deny it.
The love between you was undeniable, it had always been there, but it wasn’t enough anymore. The timing was wrong.
The distance—both physical and emotional—was too much to overcome.
“I can’t ask you to wait for me,” He said quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment.
“But I will.” You said quickly, stepping closer to him. You reached out, brushing your fingers over his arm. “This was never about you holding me back. You’ve always supported me, even when it was hard.”
“But it’s not fair,” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve someone who can be there for you all the time, not just when I have a few days off. You deserve someone who doesn’t disappear for months at a time.”
The lump in your throat grew, threatening to swallow you whole. “And you deserve someone who won’t make you feel guilty for chasing your dreams, Franco. You’re doing something amazing with your life.”
He reached for your hand then, his fingers brushing against yours, as if he was trying to hold on to you, to something that felt real before it slipped through his fingers.
He stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn’t a desperate kiss, or a goodbye full of false promises.
It was soft, slow, and devastating.
It was filled with every ounce of love you still had for each other, with all the things you wished you could have said but didn’t have the words for.
When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his breathing uneven. “You’ll always mean everything to me,” He whispered.
You nodded, your hands clinging to his jacket as if letting go would make it all too real. “And you to me.”
He stepped back then, his hands slipping out of yours, and the absence of his touch felt like a piece of you had been torn away.
“So, this is it?” You ask. Tears welling in your eyes as he handed over your bag.
“This is it.” His voice confirmed although it sounded like he didn’t want to say it. His eyes were glued to you before he glanced up and gazed at the security line awaiting you.
“You should go.” He finally said. The tears in his eyes now falling.
“Yeah.” You nod, your lips trembling.
“I love you,” He whispered, the words so quiet, so raw, they felt like they were tearing him apart.
“I love you too,” You said, tears finally slipping from your eyes. It was a confession you’d known for so long, a truth you had carried with you through everything.
And with those words, he nodded and briefly smiled to himself before he looked at you again and watched you walk off.
Your figure grew smaller with every step.
He stayed rooted to his spot, your hands gripping your bag, as if that could somehow hold you together.
When you reached the line, you glanced back one last time. His eyes met yours across the distance, and even from afar, you could see the tears glistening in them.
And then he turned.
You knew this was the right decision, the logical choice.
But logic didn’t make it hurt any less.
Loving him had been the greatest thing you’d ever known.
Letting him go was the hardest.
And as you walked toward your gate, alone, the only thing you could do was hope that someday, somehow, your paths would cross again.
But that was sadly, not aligned for the foreseeable future.
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likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and just lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list!!!
tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-vfx
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gd-dollopole · 3 days ago
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Just wanted to point out how interesting the choice of the directors has been here:
to shift the camera to very specific people when Lancelot makes his speech as to why he wants to serve Arthur as a knight in the episode, “The coming of Arthur” (season 3, episode 12).
When Lancelot says, “Justice” and, “Honour”, the camera immediately shifts to Arthur. That’s what the king stands for. That’s why Lancelot and Gwaine and everyone else, although sceptical, decides to serve their king. For these are his values:
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Although Lancelot says that Arthur has thought him to fight for freedom, which is in part true, since he had shown him kindness and strength and mercy, even against the strongest enemy, the moment Lancelot says it, he turns to Merlin:
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and the camera shifts to him:
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Merlin looks at Lancelot with hope in his eyes, for he sees the future Arthur might bring, for he knows Lancelot understands what this might mean and bring for him and his people too, for those with magic, and Lancelot is more than happy to see it through, and help him along the way, and if that means to serve Arthur, for Merlin to be free, Lancelot is more than willing to accept.
They both know something the others don’t:
Lancelot is serving Merlin too, without saying it, simply because he can’t. To Lancelot, it was Merlin who thought him the value of freedom and courage: “You’re the one Arthur should knight. You’re the bravest of us all, and he doesn’t even know.”
But most importantly and heartbreaking at the same time, it’s the end. Lancelot says, “And all that’s good”,
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and the camera shifts to Guinevere:
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The choice of words is interesting.
Guinevere is, “all that’s good”. If her and Lancelot has to be like Arthur and Merlin, then they really are, “two sides of the same coin”.
Guinevere is the one who reminded Lancelot to fight, to live better, because he deserves it, because he’s a good man, because he loves her like no one ever did. He was there for Guinevere since the first moment. But it’s also not only referred to Lancelot, isn’t it? After all, Guinevere is more than an attachment to another character.
Once again, Guinevere is all that’s good.
Gwen is what remains of Camelot’s growth.
She is the daughter of a Blacksmith.
She is not only vital for the city, but she was thought to be patient, kind, generous and to be helpful towards those in need. She helped Camelot’s citizens during the siege with Morgana by sharing food that she didn’t have, and she never asked for any later.
She forgave Arthur’s sins and mistakes, although that would have meant a life of perpetual loneliness and worry towards those she loved.
She could have betrayed Arthur and Camelot in a second, if it meant she would have lived, but she had preferred to lose her friend and to stand for what was right.
She fought for Camelot, for her friends, with a sword, with her words, against Agravaine, and even Uther. She never backed down, and by doing so, she was able to help her father, her brother.
Merlin’s loyalty is admirable, but so is Gwen’s.
She is, and always will be, “all that’s good.”
And Lancelot is ready to serve Camelot’s queen, even if he may not be her king. He loved her enough to be able to do that, they respected each other, and that was all they needed.
Lancelot is such a brilliant character.
Not only he shows what he stands for each episode he’s in, but he brings with him everything that he learned in the past episodes too.
I must admit that among each character in the show, Merlin and Arthur included, Lancelot is perhaps the most constant one.
He knows what his values are, and he knows who he has to thank for them.
And it’s bittersweet to know that he died too soon, that he wasn’t able to see, even if small, the actual change Arthur brought to his reign, that he couldn’t be there for Guinevere as a friend when she felt lonely as a queen, to help Merlin with his destiny when he felt hopeless thinking everything he had helped Arthur build may have fallen.
The directors knew what they were doing, and this is one of the many reasons this show attracts me completely.
It may be wrong under so many aspects, but the way the choices for the camera movements, the little facial features, along the dialogues were made, are such an important part of BBC Merlin that makes this TV show stand out amongst the rest, and it has to be appreciated.
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mattscoquette · 3 days ago
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‘25 goals and ‘24 recap ♡ ୨୧ ࣪ ˖
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while everyone is so focused on achievements and goals for the new year, i think it’s important to look back at what impactful things you did this year. this is a list of my most memorable moments within the last year, and my goals for the next. feel free too reblog with yours :)
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— this was truly a year for the books. although i struggled with my mental health a lot, alongside other things in my personal life, i still think this year was good for me as a person and i learned a lot about myself. this is (in no particular order) some things i did this year that i think are worth mentioning.
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౨ৎ started my fitness journey - i was in the gym five days a week for the longest period ever in my life. i learned to portion my food and began to eat cleaner and looked and felt the best i ever had in YEARS. as someone who struggled for a long time with self image and discipline, this was very healing for me.
౨ৎ i lost a few friends, but i made SO many new ones on here.
౨ৎ started journaling. i wrote about my day and what i was feeling. i found that having some sort of outlet really helped me with my anxiety.
౨ৎ picked up a long lost love for writing. i started to upload my work onto a platform for the first time in five years.
౨ৎ made my first big girl purchase and bought my dream car.
౨ৎ really found out my style and aesthetic. the clothes i like, the styles, colors, etc., after struggling with it for a long time.
౨ৎ developed and grew my blog to what it is today. coming on here is such an outlet for me, and i can’t thank you all enough. i know i’m just a blog on this app, but i seriously take every compliment and kind word to heart. even the smallest compliments will make my day. this year was hard on me, but everyone on this app made it so much better. i love all the love i get on here, i couldn’t be more thankful 🤍🤍 i seriously love eveyone on here so much.
special shoutout to @55sturn @sweetangelgirl7 @sirenedeslily @mattybsgroupie @freshloveee @pip4444chris @secretlocket @chrisweetheart @luverboychris @bernardsbendystraws @mattsdolll @cvnntagious + all of my mutuals ❣︎ i truly appreciate and love every one of you, i love talking with u guys so much. u make this app so fun <3
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— it’s somewhat cheesy to have the “new year, new me” mindset, but i really think the start of a new year is a great way to clean the slate. they seem to go by fast, but one year can change so much. these are my goals for the new year.
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౨ৎ exercise (4-5 days a week)
౨ৎ eat healthy and be mindful about food
౨ৎ ace all classes for both spring & fall semesters
౨ৎ figure out where i’m transferring to after my two year school
౨ৎ new job as a server / waitress
౨ৎ make and save lots of money
౨ৎ wardrobe and closet makeover
౨ৎ long healthy hair, white teeth
౨ৎ stop drinking soda , make coffee at home
౨ৎ get more into self care
౨ৎ listen to more music and new artists , explore albums and songs i don’t know of artists i currently like
౨ৎ write more often , try not to hold myself to a standard or a ridiculously high expectation
౨ৎ be kind to myself
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all in all, i’m very excited to see what the new year brings, but sad to see this one go. this year was one i don’t think i’ll ever forget. i grew so much, and i really tend to forget that at time, as does everyone. you’re so focused on the road ahead of you, you forget to look back and see how far you’ve come. no matter what you do in your life, remember to be kind to yourself and don’t give up because you deserve to live the best life you can. i hope everyone has a very happy and healthy new year !!! i love you all <3
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yoonia · 1 day ago
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— Dia’s tumblr wrapped 2024 
I know it’s super late for me to share this, but just as many would say, it’s better late than never. Thank you so much for the lovely people who tagged me to do this: @beomcoups, @shadowkoo, @kingofbodyrolls ♡
2024 started off smoothly…until it didn’t. The final quarter of the year has always been a hard time for me and it wasn’t that much different this year. As you can probably notice that I’ve been mostly absent ever since the end of October and I deeply apologise for that. I also regret not planning things properly and for not keeping up with my goals this year but that only means that I'll be dragging my WIP list towards the next year.
Thank you so much for everyone who has been there for me this year, and those of you who have stuck by me despite my inconsistencies. I really appreciate your presence on my blog, whether it’s through your likes and kudos, your reblogs, your comments and replies on my contents, and the kind words you sent me through my ask box. You guys have made it worthwhile for me to be here even after all these years, and I don’t think I can thank you enough for that. Here’s to mark the end of our wild journey through 2024 and enter the new year of 2025. 
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OVERALL FIC STATS 2024
Number of fics posted: 4 (four) one-shots, 2 (two) ongoing series, 3 (three) ficlets
Number of fics revamped: 2 (two) completed fics, 2 (two) ongoing series
Number of words written: 448,057 words (dang, no wonder I felt so burned out lol)
Number of fics in progress: 32 (oh, boy…) 
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FIRST FIC OF 2024
❥ A Christmas Fix 01 & 02 —  posted Jan 31st & Feb 1st | 1,926 & 1,226 notes
My thoughts: This was…quite a journey. It’s been a while since I wrote a rom-com story and I was pleased to have been given the chance to write this idea through a collab. The final outcome wasn’t too disappointing either, since I enjoyed writing it and reading it afterwards. I’m glad everyone loved this story as well.
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MOST POPULAR FIC OF 2024
❥ The Stand-In (Revamped version) — posted Aug 13th | 4,267 notes
My thoughts: Okay, yeah…I cheated a little. But to be fair, this fic did get a lot of notes this year before and after the revamping process. I loved this story so much that I felt like it deserved a major makeover and I’m glad I managed to do it this year.
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LONGEST FIC OF 2024
❥ The Bedroom Hymns — series, ongoing, last updated Sept 9th | 50k++ words | I’m too lazy to open each chapter to count the notes I’m so sorry lol
My thoughts: I know…I know, I need to update this one again. I had to take a break from this series because this fic literally became my main focus this year that a lot of my WIPs kept getting pushed back just so I could finish more of this. I had to stop at some point to finally set free my WIPs. I have to admit that I also lost my motivation to write this due to the lack of notes and responses that I got with each update no matter how much time I spent working on it (tacky, I know…but it is what it is). I still love and enjoy writing this, so more chapters are coming. I can see this fic becoming my main focus again in 2025 until I’m done with it.
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LAST FIC OF 2024
❥ The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea — posted Oct 24th | 712 notes
My thoughts: Holy hell…this fic. Who would’ve thought that I’d be revisiting siren!Taehyung this year after…3 years?? Thank you, whoever it was that sent this during my birthday event. I never expected to write a full fic for this to continue the original story and to answer a lot of your questions, but I’m glad I did! 
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Honorable mention: 
❥ Our Imperfections — posted Oct 30th | 92 notes
My thoughts: This was the last thing I actually released before I dipped into the void but I couldn’t count this as a fic as this was considered a ficlet or, in a more common term, a drabble.
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PERSONAL FAVOURITE FIC OF 2024
❥ Blooming Wallflowers — posted Sept 25th | 927 notes
My thoughts: I had one of those rare moments where I found myself enjoying the writing process of a story so much that things simply kept flowing until it became a full story. This one went twice the size planned (and commissioned) but I have no regrets. At all.
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Honorable mention: 
❥ Maps (revamped version) — series, completed, posted Sept 6th, 7th, & 11th | 1,4k++ notes (again, I’m too lazy to open each chapter lol)
My thoughts: I initially planned to release something else for DPR Ian’s birthday this year. But then I started revamping the graphics for his old fics instead and decided to revamp the whole series while I had the chance. This one has always been my fave work that I wrote for Christian, so diving back into this to do a makeover and give it a major upgrade felt absolutely fulfilling. 
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2024 SPECIAL EVENT
❥ 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: yoonia’s 2024 birthday bash
My thoughts: Once again, I can’t thank you guys enough for joining this small event of mine. I promise that I’ll have another event in 2025 so please stay tuned! (see you in March!) 
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Fave reads of 2024
I have to admit that I haven’t been doing a lot of fic reading this year. But I’m happy that I got to dive back into reading some fanfics during my birthday event and found some lovely gems that I truly enjoyed
The Taste of Sin by @shadowkoo
Vignette: Duty by @cybrsan
The Athlete by @beomcoups
A Lover's Redemption by @writtenwhalien
Dandelion by @shina913
The Wood by @sailoryooons
Minted by @kithtaehyung
Mr. & Mrs. Yoon by @monamipencil
On The Ropes by @raplinesmoon
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Top Ten Tracks of 2024
Loved — B.I
People — Agust D
Make You Mine — Black Violet
Gemini — Cheyenne 
Close To Me — Mamie, Eloy, Trippy Bass
HUH?! — Agust D feat. J-hope
Love — Lana Del Rey 
Reasons — COTIS 
Watch Me Burn — Michelle Morrone 
Die First — Nessa Barrett  
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GOALS FOR 2025
Write more. Tackle more WIPs each month. 
Finally finish my old abandoned WIPs (About Time, Blood Moon Rising and the Shifters Series, Chance Encounter) 
Finish writing and officially release my original stories/novel as a web-series
Try to do better with planning and scheduling and keeping up with them
Finish revamping Carousel and release the novel version on Ream
Read more. Both published books and released fics
Focus more on my personal health, mental and physical 
Start job hunting again
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I know I’m late for this, so I’m passing this over to the writers who are tagged on the list above (if you haven’t done this yet) and also tagging a few who come across my mind right now (only if you want to!): @ressjeon @lo1k-diamonds @pars-ley @minisugakoobies @inkedtae
And also tagging randomly anyone who feels inspired to create their own tumblr wrapped! 
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xx-riffraff-xx · 2 days ago
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𓇼 ~ the sea swallowed him whole ~ 𓇼
premise; It's the anniversary of Lemuria's fall. Rafayel isn't handling it well.
warnings; suicidal ideation, kind of suicide attempt, heavy angst, hurt/some comfort, bittersweet ending, VERY sad, potentially OOC, timeline inaccuracies, drowning or hope of drowning, attempt at symbolism. neither you nor rafayel are harmed long-term or die.
a/n; once again, i have no idea where this monster came from. my brain told me "hurt fishboy." and i said "okay guess we're hurting fishboy now." might wanna prepare the tissues. hope you enjoy!
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Rafayel is on the beach again. Lukewarm waves curl around his ankles, pulling the sand beneath his feet to drag him back to the depths of the sea. The saltwater soaked through his clothes up to his waist where he sits. The moon is drawing the tide in. His shirt is sticking awkwardly to his waist.
He can’t keep his thoughts away from the day Lemuria fell. How could he pick between you and his home? They were linked, connected, one could not exist without the other. In his hesitation to tear Mo apart, he lost both. The evacuation was swift, but not swift enough. Lives were lost. It is his fault. The waves washed away the blood on his hands, but he feels pieces of their souls stuck in his teeth.
Rafayel is on the beach again. The darkness hadn’t claimed many of his people, the response was quick enough. The people closest to him were able to swim away. Now, it’s his job to aid in protecting everyone on the mainland. He’s never wanted responsibility, always swam in the opposite direction as fast as the current could take him. Maybe he’s grown into it.
He’s so tired. It’s late. The sea has drawn him deeper, she demands justice. Heavy cotton hangs from his shoulders. Sand melts into glass underneath his fingers. Time-softened seashells bear his marks. He skips a smooth seashell sculpture across the water’s surface. The ripples bear the name of each Lemurian he couldn’t save.
The sea swallows him whole. Rip currents are common around this time. His body could be miles from shore before anyone could think to look for him. The sea will punish him as she wills. She is a caring, violent mother. Her children are no stranger to her wrath. She knows what he deserves.
Rafayel feels the current yank at his feet where he floats at the same time he feels warm hands pulling him from the water. The tide had taken many hours to swallow him, marked by the moon’s position above the horizon. The salt dampened the angry flame in his heart. Its absence feels like burning alive.
Gentle hands guide him out of the sea. A trail of pearls leads away from the shoreline. Soft towels dry his vessel. Slowly, he dresses in the dry clothes given to him. He is surrounded by warmth. It is too hot with the fire burning under his skin. Under the covers, his back is pressed to someone’s chest. The hours spent waiting for the sea to claim him feel like a dream.
“Rafayel?” Your shaky voice breaks the silence. He feels your worry like his own. He uses your name when he answers. “Why did I find you catatonic in the tides?”
“It was... a momentary lapse in judgement. Today is an anniversary.” He responds tonelessly. He does not intend to answer any more questions. After all, you don’t remember anything from all those years ago. If you did, the guilt would consume you, your compassion weaponized against you. He fears he’ll reach for your hand to find your skin grey and lifeless, the scavengers brought in by the tides feasting on your long-dead corpse.
You don’t ask any other questions. Unlike you. Instead, you take Rafayel back to the beach. The soft sand slips beneath your feet. Warmth from your hand spreads up his arm. Smells of brine and salt and Mo waft in on the sea breeze. The draw to the sea holds him hostage, trapped like Jonah in the mouth of the whale.
Your warmth fades as you roll up your pants. Without pausing, without hesitation, you wade into the tide. The waves wash up to your shins. The wind tussles your hair, humidity and salt frizzing it into curls. Rafayel’s throat closes, his lungs squeezed of all air. The sea is a caring, violent mother. The sea will take your heart after he could not.
He rushes into the waves after you. “What are you doing!?” He demands, pulling you out of the clawing reach of the currents that threaten to take you from him. You splash out of the ocean’s reach willingly.
Once out of the lapping water, you resist Rafayel. You draw his forehead to your own, holding his face in your hands. “I want to understand you.”
Something dark and ugly rears inside him. His shoulders curl to contain it. “Lemuria fell because I would not sacrifice you. The ocean demands its retribution.”
You fall together to the soft sand, clinging desperately to a fading reality where everything will be okay. “I don’t understand,” you whisper. A deep sigh burdens the space between you. Rafayel does not elaborate further. A soft, alluring hum starts in his chest. You know this melody. You hum along. Your voices mingle against the backdrop of the ocean’s waves.
Rafayel holds your hands in his own. Your bodies drift closer together until neither of you can define where he ends and you begin. Rafayel hums until he cannot anymore. His caring, violent mother will have to accept his voice over his body for retribution this year. The sun rises. The tides retreat in acceptance of Rafayel’s offer.
Rafayel holds you to his chest. You had fallen asleep at some point during his siren song. Your even breaths wear away his jagged edges.
It will be different, but it will be okay.
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A little note on Rafayel's references to mo in this fic: I can't remember where I found it in canon, but I believe it means "home" or "motherland" in Lemurian! Hope you enjoyed!
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lidiasloca · 1 hour ago
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hi!! can you write Azriel x reader (established mates) where reader is worried Azriel only wants to be with her because they're mates but in reality he's been in love with her for centuries but thought he didn't deserve her or something like that. maybe angsty at first because she's kinda avoiding him but with happy ending please and thanks :')
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is it love, or just the fear of loneliness?
azriel x reader
summary: Is Azriel’s love for you born from only the mating bond that he was always so desperate for—or was his love always there, hidden beneath the surface? As doubts rise, only he can reveal the truth.
You were on your second refill when you realized Rhys and Cassian had drunk the rest of the bottles themselves.
“I mean,” the High Lord started, already laughing at his story. “I mean—”
“What do you mean, Rhys?” Feyre asked, watching her mate stomach the influence of the wine.
“I mean,” he tried yet again, but his laughter kept interrupting.
Cassian was chuckling as he eyed him with half-closed eyes. “Finish the sentence, brother.”
“I’m trying,” he laughed, now looking at you. Then to Azriel at your side, whose face lay freely joyful.
“I mean, do you remember,” he asked Cassian, “how all Azriel could talk about was having a mate?”
You could feel through the bond the quiet embarrassment of your mate.
But they didn’t, so Cass continued. “Oh—yes. He was desperate.”
“I want a mate? When will I find a mate? Where is she?” Cassian imitated with a stupid voice.
Feyre’s little giggle wasn’t half of the hysterical roars of the Illyrians. However, Az, instead of laughing, gave you a quick shy glance.
Rhysand had a hand on his stomach as he continued laughing with no end. Feyre gave you and Azriel an apologetic look. “Rhys, you are very drunk, my love.”
But Rhys’s eyes widened with a thought. “Do you remember—do you remember when Azriel got drunk?”
Cassian's grin only grew. “Oh, gods. It got even worse.”
“I want a maaaaate,” Rhys drawled, his imitating voice even worse than Cass’s. “Where is sheeeee?”
You couldn’t help but snort, trying to catch Azriel’s eyes. When he didn’t let you meet his gaze, you shifted your attention to your ring, instinctively rolling it. 
“Alright, that’s enough for tonight,” Feyre said softly when Rhys tried to gulp down another glass of wine.
“What do you mean? We're just getting started,” Cass said, then turned to you. “Y/N, you don’t know how much we owe you.”
“Yeah,” Rhys nodded. “I don’t think I could’ve listened to one more hour of Azriel begging for a mate.”
At least now, Azriel was smiling faintly, as if remembering. As if grateful.
But something in your chest… pained.
You suddenly felt it difficult to get air into your lungs, as if you were falling from great heights. 
He was desperate for a mate.
You never let your mind linger there for too long, it always hurt too much. You were scared of what you might grow to believe if you looked at the puzzle pieces for too long.
Desperate.
“I think I’m going to sleep.” The words spilled out before you could muster a believable tone. “Good night,” you said as you rose, not daring to look back at your mate’s face as you headed to your room.
Trying to make no noise, you slowly closed the door of your room and leaned your back on it.
The questions in your head were far too swift for you to dodge them.
What if that was all you were to Azriel? His mate?
Did he only want you because of the bond?
Because he finally found what he was desperate to find? Not necessarily love—but a mate.
‘He was desperate.’
You and Azriel had known each other for many years, and Azriel had barely noticed your existence.
You even believed he avoided you.
He never spoke to you, never looked at you for too long… until the bond snapped for you both at the same time.
And then, and only then, had you found the bravery to get to know him, even asking him out yourself.
Then, and only then, had he started to grow interested in you.
Everything… everything was just because of the mating bond.
A light knock sounded, startling you enough to take a step away from the door.
“It’s me,” the voice said. Azriel’s voice.
Not now. Not now.
You quickly wiped the tears from your face and took a deep breath.
You found that worried look on your mate when you opened the door, and it made it an effort not to cry again.
“The party is over?” you asked, trying to sound somewhat calm.
“I… I’m here to see if you are alright.”
You made yourself breathe before you fainted. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You left,” he said as he came inside the room. “You seemed… sad.”
You closed the door and watched as he silently awaited your answer. It didn’t come.
Azriel took a step, leaving no safe space between you. One deep breath and your skin would brush his.
“Tell me, love. What is it?”
You shook your head.
“Is it… is it about what they said? About me?”
You didn’t say anything. But you didn’t shake your head either, so he took that as a yes.
There was something wary in his eyes as he asked, “About the mate thing?”
You felt dizzy, like you were falling from a cliff.
You had to hold on to somehting.
You tentatively took his index finger between your fingers, making him look down at where your hands joined. A faint smile bloomed on his worried face. “Are you mad at me about it?”
“No,” you murmured. “Not mad.”
“Then?” he urged, moving his other hand to cup your cheek. “You… you feel so quiet on the other side of the bond… I can almost not feel you at all.”
You met his eyes, saying sorry over and over through the sad colors on yours.
“I just,” you breathed. “I just thought about what they said, that you were desperate. And it made me think if maybe… if maybe you only wanted me because I am your mate. Not because—” You had to look away from his face. “You love me.”
Azriel’s long moment of silence was torture, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else.
At last, he spoke. “Y/N, look at me. Please. Look at me, my love.”
You did, even when you felt another tear slipping down your cheek. He gently wiped it away.
“I love you. I need you to know that. I love you more than anything in this world. And I don’t love you because you are my mate.” More tears rolled down, yet these were not sad. “I’ve loved you long before I knew you were my mate.”
Your mouth opened partly at his confession, yet you didn’t know what to say.
He understood your confusion and further explained. “I did, Y/N. For so long, I loved you from a distance. From the moment I first met you, and you spoke—not to me, but… just hearing your sweet voice, I realized I was going to fall for you.”
“What?” you whispered low enough you weren’t sure he had even heard you.
But maybe he did, for he nodded, caressing your cheek with heartbreaking softness. “I thought you would never like me back.”
“But- I thought you disliked me, Azriel.”
His brows furrowed and his hand fell from your face. “Why would you ever think that?”
“Because,” you said. “You never spoke to me. You didn’t even look in my direction. And when you did speak to me, all you said was one word, nothing more.”
A sheepish smile appeared on his face. “Well, I was… shy around you. It wasn’t easy to talk to you, or to stare too long without making a fool of myself, so I tried to avoid both.”
You tried to take in his words, finding it very difficult to digest this new reality.
He had been in love with you… and you hadn’t even noticed.
“Y/N,” he spoke, seriousness lacing his words. “That ring,” he gestured with his chin, and you looked down at the golden band with a diamond on your finger. “I…”
“You what?”
“This is embarrassing,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I bought that ring the very first day I met you.”
You were pinned in place, failing to even breathe or blink.
“What?” It seemed like the only word you knew.
“It’s both romantic and psychotic, I know,” he smiled.
You inhaled deeply, meeting his gaze. “You knew? You truly knew it was…”
“You?” he finished. “Yes.” 
You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in his words. Azriel pulled you gently into his arms as you let the warmth of him embrace you.
It was no more than a whisper, yet you heard him murmur against your temple, “From the very first moment, I knew, Y/N.”
You closed your eyes, finally accepting the fall.
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-Charcaters by Sarah J Maas
azriel masterlist
a/n: what is this thing with your titles being a question, lidia? mmmm, 🤷‍♀️. anyway, hope you like this one, thanks for the request. and have a wonderfull 2025!!
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reveriebliss · 17 hours ago
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𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥!𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘖𝘊 ✧˖°
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Description: In which oc!Ariella has been cheated on, and Brother’s best friend!Matt comforts her during this hard time. Oneshot !!
Warnings: Nothing really, light angst, fluff.
Word Count: ~1k
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It was half past one, and Ariella still hadn’t gotten a message back. At 8:00, she was supposed to be going out with her boyfriend, Ronan. She’d been making plans for weeks, but each time something would come up and he’d cancel at the last minute. This time, Ronan completely ghosted her and stopped sharing his location. Ariella had a suspicion that her boyfriend had been sneaking around with his so-called “best friend”, Jane. Sure they’d been friends since they were young, but Jane was always so touchy with him and Ronan would do anything for her. Maybe it was all in her head. But something seemed off.
Flipping through a novel half asleep, Ariella jumped up at the sound of a phone notification. Quickly dropping the book to see if Ronan had texted, her frown found her again when she saw it was only her brother���s friend, Matt.
“just drove by and saw your bedroom light still on. all good??”
Ariella had always been one to go to sleep early.
“okay creep,” “yeah everything is fine, just can’t sleep.”
“i was dropping your brother off lol. are you sure everythings alright? whats keeping you up?”
Hesitantly, with a long huff, she began typing.
“ronan ghosted me. this is the third time this week he has canceled plans, but this time he turned off his location and didn’t even say anything. he is just so unreliable and i-”
She paused, and deleted all that was written.
“yeah everything is okay, just had a nap earlier and now i’m not tired lol.”
She tossed her phone to the other end of the bed, and sat back again, this time with the book closed. After a few minutes, she reluctantly grabbed her phone again and opened Snapchat absentmindedly. As soon as she had opened the app, she froze in fear and could hear her own heartbeat. In the tiny story circle, on the top of her screen, she could see her boyfriend laid shirtless in bed, next to someone with long, golden hair. Underneath, she saw the name. Jane Slater. Without even clicking on it, she knew what had happened, and began to break down.
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An hour had passed, when her phone dinged again. She had debated on texting Matt and really telling him what had been going on, since she could have used someone to talk to. Before she could even message him, it had been him messaging her.
“just saw the story, omw.”
She wanted to fight but she had no strength to do so. Ariella had been hysterically sobbing in her bed, and now any comfort she could have, she was going to take.
Minutes later, Matt pushed through her bedroom door.
“Oh baby,” he began.
She didn’t have it in her to say the words. They both exchanged a sorrowful look, and Matt grabbed onto her tight. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, whilst he hushed her weeps and sniffles.
“You did not deserve this. No pretty, sweet, caring girl like you should ever be treated like this. He’s a dick and has no idea what he’s done.” Matt whispered into her ear.
Truthfully, Ariella couldn’t even remember the last time she was held. Ronan was never one for physical touch, or not with her anyway, and he hadn’t been around much. Though she was distraught, she did find a sense of comfort from Matt’s warm embrace and kind words.
“He stopped sharing his location hours ago! We were supposed to go out at 8 and..” Ariella choked between quick breaths and sobs.
“Shhh.. I know, I know. I’m so sorry Ariella.” Matt cooed.
Matt let her get her tears out, and after a few minutes he sat back. Wiping her tears with his thumb, he could not help but just admire her beauty. Even though she’d been crying the last hour, he still thought she looked angelic. Her lips were slightly swollen, and cheeks rosy pink. Her eyes glistened in the dim lighting of her room.
“Why don’t you change into something more comfortable, and I’ll go get you something to eat, hm?” He said, grazing his hand along her cheek.
Matt got up and walked over to her dresser, where he picked out a soft pink pajama set, and laid it on the bed next to her. He rubbed a few small circles on her back, and shot her a pitiful half-smile, before leaving to run to the store.
After Matt left, Ariella was left alone with her thoughts. She traced small circles on the fabric laying beside her, whilst contemplating whether or not to get up. The tears running down her cheeks felt like fire, and each drop burned more than the last. She wanted to do nothing but wallow in her pity. After fighting herself, she finally got up and slipped into the pajamas Matt had picked out. A car door closed in her driveway, and she let out a small huff.
Deep down, Ariella had always admired something about Matt. She pushed him away when they were young, fearful that if she got closer to him, she’d get attached and be heartbroken sooner or later. Even without exchanging words, Matt always seemed to just know what she was thinking, and could read her so well. Her entire body stung with betrayal, but she couldn’t help but feel a little glad. Matt did love her, even platonically. He did whatever he could for Ariella always, and she really needed this right now.
The sound of her door clicking broke her from her thoughts, when Matt slipped in her room holding a bag of snacks.
“I bought you some Skittles, the sour ones you like, popcorn, a Kit-Kat, and a Redbull.” Matt explained, taking each item out of the bag.
“Thank-you, Matt,” Ariella began. “I really appreciate it.”
“Of course, do you need anything else? We could watch a movie or something, or I can leave you alone for a bit if that’s what you’d prefer.” Matt proposed, sitting down next to her.
“No,” she began.
“No?”
“Stay. Please. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Alright. I can do that.” Matt spoke softly, with a tender smile.
Ariella scooted into her bed further, hauling the blankets over her. With one hand she raised the blanket next to her, signalling Matt to come lay next to her. Matt crawled under the sheets, and held her whilst she sniffled. She began running her fingers through the soft, brown tufts of his hair, before she spoke up.
“Matt,” she began with a whisper.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Matt’s heart began beating faster, and his face felt flushed.
“I love you too, Ariella.”
They both stared at each other in comfortable silence, inches away from each other's faces. Their eyes slowly tracing one anothers features.
“Always have and always will.”
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Author’s Note:
hiii so this was my first time really writing an actual fic, even though it’s a oneshot. if you have any ideas or tips, feel free to let me know!! hope you enjoyed :)
yours truly,
serenity xo ✧.*
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echo-goes-mmm · 19 hours ago
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Regress
My Writing Masterpost
Juno Collection Masterpost
Previous
Warnings: slavery, mild delirium
Something was wrong.
Master had called for the healers and the court mage when he woke, and now they were huddled around the bed, staring at him and talking.
He couldn’t move; too drained to turn his head. Juno blinked, slowly. 
The kennel was in the corner of the room. Its door was open, the bear he made from scraps of fabric sitting inside.
Tears rolled down his cheeks. He wanted to crawl inside his crate, cozy and safe and without eyes and hands on him.
The healer reached for him, and he flinched. She grabbed his wrist anyway, checking his pulse.
“It’s slow,” she said after a moment, and Juno’s eyes flicked to Master. 
“He hasn’t moved,” Master said. “I tried to get him to sit up earlier so he could eat, but-”
I’m sorry, Juno wanted to say. Instead, he only breathed.
He heard the healer uncork a bottle. “Just needs more potion,” she said soothingly to Master. Juno’s mouth went dry. Not more magic, please.
She reached for his jaw-
“Actually,” the wizard said, sipping on a lime green drink. “I wouldn’t.” He went around the bed, out of view.
“Juno,” the wizard said from behind him. “Does this hurt?” He prodded his bare side, and Juno startled.
“Stop it!” Master hissed at the mage. “He can’t answer you anyway, remember?”
Juno closed his eyes. Useless, worthless, defective.
“Juno,” someone said in front of him, and he was so tired. Couldn’t they put him away so he could sleep?
“Juno, please.”
He opened his eyes. The wizard was at eye level, sitting on his heels.
“Did that hurt? It’s important. Blink once for yes and twice for no,” he said.
It didn’t, but Juno was sore all over. Bone-deep soreness, and weighed down with sleep and near paralysis.
He blinked twice.
The wizard stood. “See? I think he’s mostly healed. Just sore and tired.”
“More potion would-” the healer started.
“Would kill him, maybe,” the wizard went on. “He’s Timorsian. Our healing potions are based on Rhodantheian physiology. Juno doesn’t have inner magic, so it’s working slower and harder on his system-”
Juno stopped listening. He stared at the wall behind the court mage. He could feel the world becoming more and more fuzzy; slipping away like mist on the wind, just like it did every night when he was too tired.
Now it was the middle of the day, not evening where the shadows leapt at him and his hands shook.
“Juno? Juno?”
He couldn’t do it.
He drifted.
___________________
The healer had prescribed bedrest for a week or until he recovered his strength, whichever came first.
Juno couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
He was trapped on his bed, sprawled out on his stomach, head turned to the left.
His bed. 
It really wasn’t his bed, it was a bed, in a room that Master let him use. Because he was generous.
Master was so kind. He even asked after painkillers, but the healer told him no. That it might interfere with the process.
Juno didn’t deserve Master’s kindness. He had been disobedient.
He was still waiting to be punished for it.
___________________
Master hovered over him. It was scary, and Juno didn’t like it. He was still naked, and the idea that Master would just grab him and-
He let the thought slip away.
Master hand-fed him. Little bits of fruit and fish, and that felt normal. Natural. Was he being good? 
As he swallowed, he realized his collar felt weird. Light and airy, instead of grounding and familiar.
It wasn’t his collar at all. Wasn’t his comforting leather with a brass tag.
Where was his collar? How would people know he belonged to someone? 
Had he been bad?
Tears filled his eyes as Master fed him another bite. He swallowed, whimpered.
Please, what did I do wrong? Don’t you love me anymore?
No answer.
He cried as quietly as possible. Master liked silence. If he wanted to be good again, he needed to be small.
___________________
The kennel was so far away. But it was safety.
He shouldn’t be on a bed. This was Master’s bed, and he was on it. For no reason.
Bad. Disobedient. Horrible creature.
Juno struggled to pick himself up off the bed. 
“Juno, no!” said a voice above him. A hand pushed him back down, and he couldn’t help but burst into tears.
But why? Why wasn’t he allowed to hide away?
“Juno, please don’t cry. What do you need?”
He couldn’t lift himself again, even to point to his perfect, quiet crate. All he could do was sob and sob and hope Master wasn’t around to hear him.
The hands moved him onto his back, propping him up on the pillows. A tissue wiped away his misery.
“I think I should teach you some sign, or to write, or something,” the voice said.
No! No nononono-
He tried to move away, to thrash against the man’s grip, but it was useless.
He sank back into the pillows, staring off into the distance. 
Juno didn’t want his hands broken or his eyes torn out. 
So as the man talked and moved and tried to get him to look at paper and markings-
He looked away.
He just wanted his kennel and collar.
He just wanted to rest.
taglist: @haro-whumps @paintedpigeon1 @phoenixpromptsandstuff @tianablackwell @starsick1979
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tallulah477 · 24 hours ago
Text
The Rumor Mill (Part Two)
Pairing: Spider x Fem!Na'vi!Reader
Warnings: AgedUp!Spider, Oral (female receiving), Blindfolding, Handjob, Finger Sucking, Queue/Kuru Play, P in V, Voice Kink (kinda), Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk, Slight Food Play, Creampie, Reader has anxiety and is going through it, Her entire body is made of stress I s2g
Word Count: 12.4K
A/N: Happy New Year! Starting the year off with some Spider! I threw a semicolon in here somewhere just to spice things up a bit ;)
Summary: You thought your little crush on Spider would get easier after he ate you out within an inch of your life. Instead, it gets worse. And now you can't even look at him without picturing him looking up at you from between your thighs.
<<< Part One
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Translations:
Tewng - Loincloth
Skxawng - Idiot, moron
Teylu - Beetle larvae
Tawtute - Human
Vrrtep - Demon
Mawey - Calm
Yawne - Beloved
You thought that getting eaten out and having an orgasm so intense you thought you might explode from pleasure would make you more comfortable around the person that did it. It’s intimate - getting up close like that and sharing something so personal with someone else. It should erase the nerves, right? Make you more at ease and relaxed around the person who’s seen you at your most vulnerable. 
Spider made you fall apart on his tongue in just a few minutes. It was amazing. Heartstopping. A down right hazard to your ability to breathe. 
But instead of crawling off that bed in your satisfied and pleasured haze and waving at him in thanks, maybe even scheduling another meeting so you could relive the life-changing experience - you just laid there, legs still twitching as you panted into your mask for air that you felt like wasn’t ever enough to please your lungs.
“So what do you think? Are the rumors true?”
Your cunt couldn’t stop spasming, the aftershocks of your orgasm seeming to extend on forever, and you know that humans don’t have anything special that should make you feel this way. No natural aphrodisiacs that the Na’vi do. But you think that Spider has to have something that he’s hiding, some kind of trick or superpower or something because you never knew that you could orgasm like that. So fulfilling and explosive and, oh Eywa, you squirted on his face! 
He asked you that question, face as smug as smug could get. And even though you never got the words out for yourself, you know he knew your answer. His eyes never left your face. 
But your eyes left his, dragging down his body, observant and catching where the blue painted stripes on his body had just barely smudged across his tanned skin from where his chest and belly had rubbed against the sheets during his time between your legs. They hesitate for just a moment over the healed skin of his bullet scar, covered partially with one purposeful stripe. Your eyes traveled down to the bulge in his tewng and your scattered brain latches on to the thought of him reaching inside it. Your pussy flutters, clit throbbing in need again as the image of him stroking himself beneath the cloth of his tewng invades your mind. Would he keep it hidden from you? Another form of teasing as he looks down at you with those sinful eyes as he pumps at his length that may or may not have blue stripes on it to match the rest of his body. Or would he pull it out and let you watch? Let you see as he chases the pleasure both you and him know he deserves after the gift he just graced you with. Would those possibly existing stripes smear along his cock the same way the ones on his chest and stomach did? 
You whimper at the thought and the involuntary sound snaps you back to reality. Spider’s still there in front of you, sat back on his heels and the remnants of your arousal still glistening in the florescent light of the room on his face where he missed wiping it off. The bulge still ever present under his tewng.
Spider’s teasing stare twists into concern. “Y/n? Are you okay?”
“I have to go,” You say suddenly, scrambling off the bed. 
Your legs feel like jelly and you worry you’re about to collapse at any moment, but then you turn around and grab your forgotten tewng from the sheets and your eyes catch on Spider’s concerned brown ones again and fuck! You can’t look at him! You can’t look at him anymore. How are you expected to ever look at him again when all you’re going to be able to see when you do is how ravenous he looked between your thighs or what you think he might look like with a hand on his cock. 
“Wait,” He says, moving to get up too. “What’s wr–”
He’s a sweetheart. A true, kind, pussy eating god of a sweetheart, and you’re a fucking coward because what are you even doing right now? 
Running. Grabbing your tewng and running. 
That’s what you’re doing right now. 
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The walk of shame through the woods and back to the village feels like it takes forever. Nightfall caresses the entire forest in a thick blanket of darkness, lit up only by the bioluminescent plants and networks of living moss on the ground. You watch the beauty around you as you trek your way back and try to ignore the way your pussy still twitches occasionally in its overstimulated and overworked state.
You take a deep breath and urge yourself to calm down. 
It was just a thing. A thing. Get yourself together. He didn’t even fuck you. And even if he did, it still wouldn’t be a big deal. Sex is normal between the Na’vi - an expression and physical release. It’s not a taboo like it can be for the human’s and you have no reason to feel anything other than pure satisfaction of a job well done. This should be a walk of pride. A walk of contentment. 
So why do you feel so flustered? 
The image of him sitting back on his heels, the thick bulge trying to poke up and begging for attention under the thin piece of cloth around his hips pops into your mind again. That was for you. He was hard because of you. You could have helped him. Returned the favor with your own mouth. You could be learning how he tastes right now, how the weight of his cock feels against your tongue. 
But you didn’t. You left him there. Alone and confused and hard. 
You curse softly, voice barely audible in the expanse of the forest. Eywa, y/n, you are so stupid. 
Renu is never going to let you live this down.
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Renu doesn’t let you live it down. 
She bombards you the second you’re back in your hut. You knew it was going to happen - Renu is nothing if not driven. But you still hoped you would have some time before she cornered you, crafty grin on her face and the demand to “spill all the details! C’mon, nothing left out!” on her tongue. 
It’s almost as hard to look at her as it is to look at Spider. 
“You skxawng!” She bellows, disbelief coloring her tone and you think you’ve never seen her eyes this wide before. “You just left him? He gave you the best head of your life and you just left him?”
“Ran,” You corrected, weakly. 
“Oh, that’s right. You ran. You ran from the man you’ve been ogling over since he came back to the clan. And then, not only that, but you ran before you got that dick? Are you crazy?”
“You never said anything about getting dick,” 
“I am so mad at you right now,” Renu says. She crosses her arms across her chest and frowns at the corner of your hut. She lasts about eight seconds before she peeks back at you again. “So what did his tongue feel like?”
You whine and bury your face into your hands. 
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Maybe you’re being a little dramatic. 
Five days after your rendezvous with Spider shows just how much courage you don't have. He’s in the village all the time, spending time with the Sullys or helping train the younger warriors alongside Neteyam - and if you thought you saw him everywhere before, it's even worse now that you’re trying to not see him. 
You know he’s trying to seek you out. He’s tried to corner you on several occasions, especially in the first two days after you ran from the outpost, but you dodged his attempts to talk to you every time. You’d like to say your successful attempts at evading him have to do with your prowess as a Na’vi - the art of quick footing, careful movements, and pure athleticism despite not being an active Hunter or Warrior working in your favor - but you know you’d only be lying to yourself. Spider is even more athletic than you are and you think he could cut you off no matter where you try to go, force you to talk to him if he really wanted to.
He’s letting you get away - his own kind soul seeing your distress and even though you know he wants to get to the bottom of why you’re acting the way you’re acting, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. 
“Well, you know what they say,” Renu said when you hide in her hut after one such escape. “Big heart, big di–”
“Shut up!”
She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand why you clam up whenever he’s nearby, face catching fire whenever the sound of his name pops up in conversation or is called from across the training grounds as you're walking by. She doesn’t understand why you turn into a flustered disaster at the mere sight of him and fuck - if Renu thought you were bad before your little experience with Spider, she makes sure to tell you how embarrassing you are now. 
And it is embarrassing. 
You are significantly taller than he is and naturally stronger. You should not be cowering and hiding like you are, especially just from a little sexual tryst. Yet, the last words you said to him were a garbled slew of unintelligent syllables as you scrambled for your tewng, desperate to be out of the room that contained his scent like a relentless source meant to keep you dizzy and cloud your senses. And you can’t look at him, neverending images reeling in your mind with each glance, but you can’t stop looking at him either, eyes flicking across the village or hiding behind your fellow People to catch a glimpse of the man who is causing you such torment. 
Sometimes you wonder if humans really do have better senses than the Na’vi give them credit for. But then again, maybe it’s just Spider who is special. Either way, you don’t like it, because Spider seems to know when he’s being watched and a lot of times when you try to steal those self imposed taboo glances, you find him already staring back at you. 
And then you really can’t look at him, eyes unable to meet his piercing stare for longer than half a second before snapping your head away and sprinting back to your hut in shame. 
It takes Renu losing what little patience she had left with you to convince you to put an end to the madness. Five days seems to be your maximum for stalling the inevitable and you find yourself walking back towards the human outpost after you’ve completed your tasks for the day, escorted by none other than your traitorous best friend. 
You drag your feet a little slower when the building comes into view. 
Renu keeps a close and watchful eye on you all the way up until you close the airlock door behind you, and even then you know she’s going to stay out there for a little bit longer just to make sure you don’t chicken out and run for the hills instead of facing your fears head on. 
“Just do it,” she had told you. “Face your fears and just talk to him. Warriors have no fear.”
“I'm a Gatherer,” You reminded her. But she waved off your fact like it's a pesky insect. 
“None of that! You can do it. Plus, maybe he’ll even lay you down and lick your pussy again for being such a brave girl,”
Thankfully, no one is really in the lab when you walk in. There’s a female scientist looking at some data on one of the holographic screens, but you’re not sure of her name and she really doesn’t pay you much attention anyway. She glances up as you push the thick airlock door shut behind you and offers you a polite nod when you wave at her in greeting, but that’s as far as the interaction goes. 
You grab a Co2 mask from the side shelf and slowly creep through the lab and into the residential area. Everything inside you is telling you to turn around, nerves shaking through your entire body and come on, get it together, Y/n, you’re better than this.
No you’re not. This is why you’ve never had a partner before this. You’re practically more anxiety than Na’vi at this point and fuck - would Renu still be outside to catch you if you turn around a try to bail now?
(Yes, she would be.)
Spider’s bedroom is the third room on the left and you carefully open the door, peeking inside briefly even though you can already tell that he isn’t inside, and duck under the doorframe. You close the door behind you, twisting the knob with you as you press it shut so the lock doesn’t make the loud clicking sound it always makes when the latch catches. It’s stupid, but a part of you feels like the quieter you are, the less likely you are to somehow magically alert Spider to your presence in his room before he’s already in the process of coming in himself. It’s not like he’s got the heightened senses of a Na’vi to rely on. You could leave right now and he wouldn’t even be able to tell that you were here with his unevolved human nose. You, on the other hand… with how on edge you are right now, you know the purposeful sound of the lock latching back in place would sound like a gunshot to your ears. Better to just do it gently. 
You step across the room, overtaking the space in only a few steps, and sit on the very edge of his bed. You’re more crouching over it than actually sitting on it, but your ass still presses against the soft sheets of his unmade bed and the feel of it brings back the memories of that night. 
The sensation of the sheets against your skin and how they moved with you, caressed your heated flesh while you writhed across them, trying to survive the overwhelming experience their owner’s mouth was putting you through. The room smells just like him - a strange combination of musk and dirt and all things that you would associate with the Na’vi, but with the distinct foreign smell of human to go with it. 
Stop! Your hands fist the fabric of your tewng. Stop breathing. If you keep up your current line of thinking, then you're definitely going to book it out of here before you get a chance to come clean to the tawtute haunting your dreams. Renu wouldn’t have any hopes of catching you with how fast you’ll run. 
But you don’t want to run anymore. The constant hiding and worrying and embarrassment is exhausting and you want things to go back to the way it was before the vrrtep born of the people from another star made your brain explode with a simple flick of his tongue. 
So instead you try to distract yourself. Spider’s room is as bare as you think it could be. You didn’t get a proper look at it the first time you were in here as distracted as you were with the absolute everything about him, but taking it in now - you can tell just how much of him is in here based on how little there actually is. 
Spider is as much of a Na’vi as he can be and you know that if he could live outside permanently, becoming one with nature and the animals and sleeping in a hut in the village that he built himself without need of an oxygen mask or worry that one day it might malfunction or break in his sleep, he would. So his room expresses that. The furniture is kept to a minimum - just a bed, a side table, and dresser - but you would bet anything you have that there’s nothing actually stored in the dresser itself. But there’s some scraps of cloth on top of it, clearly being stitched together as in progress clothing. You’ve seen Spider in interestingly printed tewngs from time to time, when his favorite ones have too much wear and tear and need to be repaired. The most eye-catching was a black dyed fabric with a red face and white eyes printed on the front. You’re not sure what it was - a person no doubt, but it didn’t look human despite the face being human shaped. 
You remember the last time he wore it you stared at it for so long trying to figure out what it was you were looking at that you didn’t realize how intensely you were staring at his crotch. When Renu nudged you and dragged you out of your way too focused contemplation, Spider was already looking back at you, smirk pulling at his lips as he stared you down from across the fire. Your eyes never left your food for the entire rest of last meal. 
There’s a bowl of fruit on the side table, a combination of yovo fruit and spartan fruit that fills the entire bowl until it looks like it might overflow. You have something similar in your own hut for late night snacks. 
You try to focus on the smell of the fruit instead, trying to sniff the sweetness and tang through the overwhelming scent of Spider. But your nose twitches, unconsciously trying to capture more of the alluring scent you were trying to distract yourself from and the ache that builds between your thighs in response feels almost damning. 
The scent distracts you enough to let him sneak up on you. You should have heard him coming. You should have been able to hear him walking down the hall. He’s lived with the Na’vi his entire life, lived among them and has been a part of them as much as he possibly could be, so his footsteps are lighter and more purposeful than a regular human’s. But you should have still been able to hear him coming or smelled that his scent was getting stronger than it already was in the residuals of his room. 
But you didn’t and now he’s here. And you are too. In his room. With him. Alone. Again. 
The door opens and you see a flash of tanned skin and the swing of a blonde dreadlock and you feel like the teylu from your lunch is going to make a reappearance all over Spider’s floor. What are you doing here, you ask yourself in a panic, any bravery you had just a few minutes ago has officially run out. He hasn’t seen you yet, hasn’t realized that you're here. Maybe you can jump out the window really quick. It doesn’t actually open since the carbon dioxide rich air would make breathing for the human’s impossible, but you could probably break it open and just telepathically apologize to Spider and the rest of the people at the outpost for the broken glass. Spider could make it back to the front of the lab and grab an oxygen mask before he passes out from lack of breathable air, right?
You could do it. It’s not too late.
It’s not—
“Y/n,” Spider says, surprise coloring his tone. “What are you doing here?”
Your eyes automatically dart up to meet his startled one, but you’re only able to keep his gaze for a second before you physically can’t anymore - images of flushed skin and swollen lips and dark sultry eyes looking up at you from beneath thick lashes flash before your eyes on repeat at just the sight of them now. 
“I– um,” You start and your voice comes out way too raspy to be normal. Embarrassed, you clear your throat. “I came to… um…”
The breath gets caught in your throat when Spider crosses the room quickly, crouching slightly in front of you and reaching out to carefully grab your chin in his hand and twist your face towards his.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
Yeah, feels like it too.
You feel like your heart is going to pound right out of your chest, and even though he’s clearly trying to get you to meet his gaze, his head even ducking down further to try to catch your downcast eyes, you avert them at all costs. Suddenly, his ceiling seems much more interesting. 
The hand not holding your chin moves to lay over your own hands that are twisting nervously in your lap. 
“I’ve been trying to talk to you,” He says. “You ran out of here so fast that day and I wanted to make sure you were okay. You’ve been really uh… busy lately though.” 
The lump in your throat prevents the “yeah” from vocalizing past the movement of your mouth, so you forcefully clear your throat - the sound much louder than you would ever hope it would be. 
“Yeah,” You try again, and this time it comes out normally. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just– just busy.”
You can feel Spider’s eyes on you, intense and unrelenting despite their naturally warm color, and you feel like his stare is burning a hole in the side of your face. Out of the corner of your eye you see him look towards the still open bedroom door, one of his dreads slipping over his shoulder, before he sighs. The sound pierces your ears and then those eyes are back on you. 
“You can–uh,” He starts. One of his hands stays on top of yours in your lap while the other moves to squeeze encouragingly at your thigh. Goosebumps burst out on your skin at his warm touch. “You can tell me if I was bad. Or if you didn’t like it. Some people are probably just gonna prefer the Na’vi tongue to a human’s. More texture, you know?”
“No!” You blurt, and your eyes automatically meet his for a fraction of a second before they dart away again - images of those eyes glaring up at you with such heat from between your thighs erasing every other thought you’ve ever had. 
“No?” Spider repeats. “Cause if it is you can tell me. I won’t be mad.”
Fuck, you think as you find the ceiling again. You might have even said it outloud, you’re not even sure anymore. How could he ever think that he could be bad? He has to know he’s not, he has to know. How could he not? With all his happy visitors and glowing reviews and the way he can speak the Na’vi language as perfectly as he can when other humans struggle and still trip over some words despite being fluent - you knew the rumors were true. With a tongue that talented, it was only a wonder what he could do with it in the bedroom. 
And the way he made you cum? Eywa, he would have to be blind and have his brain taken out to think that he wasn’t good.
“No,” You repeat, voice soft. “No, it’s… not that.”
“Then what?” He asks, a hint of frustration seeping out in his tone. “Y/n, you can talk to me. What’s up?”
You’re silent for a long while because what are you even supposed to say? What’s up is that you ate me out so good and now just the sight of your face makes me feel like I can cum again without you even touching me? Yeah, that’s going to go over well. 
“You can’t even look at me,” He says, and you know if you could bear to peek at him right now that the hair on his brows would be furrowed. “Did I do something to upset you? Something after?”
“No! Eywa, I just–” Your words cut off again, frustration bubbling in your voice just as much as it is in his. “I can’t— I can’t look at you,”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Spider grumbles, and you immediately feel even more embarrassed for making him upset. “Tell me why.”
It’s not a question this time. It’s a demand.
You hesitate for too long, and suddenly Spider stands from his crouching position, his hand gripping your chin again - but this time it's more firm and forceful, determined to get you to look at him. It works. Golden eyes meet smoldering brown and you find yourself at a loss of breath, air catching in your lungs just like that night five days ago. 
He’s almost eye level with you as he stands at his full height, the fact that you’re still sitting on the bed makes you lower than normal. You’re still taller than him like this. Just by a few inches. But the controlling way he holds your chin, piercing eyes locking onto yours and keeping them hostage in their depths, makes you feel like he’s towering over you. 
“You’re here,” He continues. “You obviously came here to talk. So talk. Talk to me.” 
You can’t look away anymore. He’s so close, body completely filling your vision with how close he is to you and your breath leaves your body completely as he pins you with his stare.  
“Tell me why,”
You can’t stand it - images of those devious eyes, dark and sinful but somehow also so sacred, keep popping up and tainting your mind. You close your eyes against his gaze. 
“Y/n—” He sighs, but you’re finally able to find your voice.
He’s right. You came here to be honest with him and get it all out on the table. 
“I can’t look at you,” You whisper. “Because when I do, all I see is you… between my legs.”
Spider’s hand loosens its hold on your chin and you wonder if you opened your eyes right now if you would see shock painted on his face. You don’t and force yourself to keep talking just to fill the silence.
“I s-see you looking up at m-me,” You stutter and surely you must be more anxiety than body. “W-with your tongue i-inside me. Felt so good, and it makes me n-nervous to be around you.”
“And why are you nervous?” He asks, and the smile you hear in his voice makes you open your eyes despite yourself. 
He’s so beautiful. Plump lips spread out into a cocky grin that makes your insides clench. 
“You don’t have to be nervous,” He continues, and he’s so close now that you can see the small flecks of lighter brown against the darker contrast of the rest of his iris. You close your eyes again, face heating up at his laughter. “It’s just me. C’mon, open your eyes for me.”
You shake your head and keep your eyes firmly shut. “I can’t,”
“Okay,” Spider says. He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. 
You chance a glance at him and sure enough his back is turned as he walks back across the room. He nudges the door shut, the latch clicking in place and echoing through the room as he detours to his dresser. He picks up one of the spare fabrics in the pile, a deep purple scrap with what looks like gold accents that you’re immediately sure he sewed in himself and clicks his tongue at you when he catches your gaze. 
“No peeking,” He chides as you squeeze your eyes shut again. His footsteps move closer again and you feel your breathing stop when you feel the soft fabric drape over your closed lids. “You say you can’t look at me. So don’t.”
He knots the ends of the cloth behind your head and then suddenly, you couldn’t see anything but darkness even if you wanted to. 
“You don’t have to look at me,” He says, voice so low it's almost a whisper. “Just experience me.”
The squeak you let out at his words should be forgiven given the circumstance. 
Oh Great Mother, have mercy. 
The blindfold heightens your senses in a way that just closing your eyes doesn’t. Your ears perk up to catch every sound, soaking in the barely noticeable shift in his breathing as it hints towards excitement. Or maybe it could be panic - but the confident tap of his feet against the tiled floor as he walks around you tells you it’s not panic. 
His footsteps are so much lighter than a human’s, skilled in stealth and practiced movements that might even let him sneak up on a fellow Na’vi if they’re distracted. But in the dead silence of the room, your heightened senses pick up on them easily. Your tail curls around your body as you subconsciously try to make yourself smaller, and you hold it in your hands on your lap for comfort. 
The bed dips as he kneels behind you and even though you know he’s there, can both hear and feel him clearly, you’re still caught off guard when he drops his mouth to your ear. 
“You know I missed you a lot,” His lips brush against the curve. Your ear twitches at the touch and flattens against your head. He follows it anyway, warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin as his hands curl around your upper arms to keep you still. “Tried to talk to you but you ran from me.”
His voice sounds like silk in your ear, smooth and low and beautiful, and you wring your tail nervously in your lap as he nips at the pierced curve of your ear. 
“You ran from me, Y/n,” He says again, and you gasp when he tugs your tail from your wringing hands, jerking it once just so it pulls at where it’s connected to your body. “Like a bad girl.”
The small bolt pain that shoots through you at the tug makes your pussy flutter and you sink your hands in your tewng again just to hold onto something. 
“I’m s-sorry,” You croak. 
Your mouth drops open as he strokes your tail, goosebumps exploding on your skin as his hand trails from close to the base of it all the way up to the tapered, hair tufted tip. His mouth presses against the side of your neck, humming against the skin as he wraps and twists your tail around his hand. The feel of his calloused palm and strong fingers sliding over the delicate length of your tail making your entire body feel like a live wire. 
“But you’re so pretty,” He tells you. “And goofy. So perfect the last time I had you laid out here. I guess I’m just gonna have to forgive you.”
Another rough tug on your tail just to make you jump and then he’s moving away again, the bed lifting slightly without his added weight, and you're left with your ears straining in anticipation to hear where he’s going to move to next. 
He doesn’t talk for a moment, just walks around to the front of the bed again before his footsteps veer off to your left. The silence nearly kills you. He needs to talk - you need him to talk to you. It’s only been a few seconds but in those seconds it feels like you’ve lived an eternity without his voice. You need him talking to you. Need his voice to keep you grounded because when he’s not talking, you think you might jump out of your own skin. 
“I was so sad,” He says. “When I thought you were upset with me because of something I did.” There’s the sound of something hefty yet pliable shift and settle as Spider moves something near the side table. “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat.”
He’s back in front of you now and your hands pull at your tewng so tightly you think it might rip when he knocks your knees apart so he can stand between them.
“I was so hungry,” He breathes. “You make me so hungry, Y/n.”
You can’t help but whimper, tail swishing behind you erratically. 
Your ears twitch as they pick up the crisp rip of his blunt teeth piercing what sounds like the skin of a fruit and then the smell of sugared syrup wafts into your nose. He must have picked up a fruit from the bowl on the side table. You can hear the squish of juice gushing from the puncture and the small slurps he makes as he tries to catch it. Rogue drips of juice land on the tops of your legs and he catches your chin in his hand again, cutting off your shocked gasp as he holds your blindfolded face directed towards his, the sticky lines of runaway juice creeping down the insides of your thighs.
“When I first tasted you, I thought you tasted so sweet. So juicy. Like a spartan fruit,” Spider tells you through his mouthful. “They’re my favorite, you know. They’re delicious and I use them to make the dye for my stripes.” 
It’s so quiet in the room and your ears are trying to pick up any and every sound you can. You think if you tried, you could hear someone talking from across the lab right now. It’s not hard to catch the sound of Spider swallowing his bite. 
“It’s the only thing I’ve been able to stomach this past week. They taste just like you,”
Your heart feels like it's going to pound right out of your chest when he presses his lips against yours. It’s not your first kiss with him and you remember how his mouth felt on yours that night almost a week ago. He kissed you gently, just a slow dance of lips pressing against each other again and again. It was his way of calming you - relaxing you from your nerves. He doesn’t want you relaxed this time. The way he kisses you now is still slow but more passionate - all consuming as he slides his tongue against yours. He kisses you like he’s excited to kiss you and wants you excited too. 
Excited and breathless and dripping wet. 
It clouds your brain, the taste of his tongue and the remnants of the fruit flavor left on it. The added sweetness enhancing a taste that’s just purely him. 
He pulls away and you subconsciously lean forward, wordlessly begging for him to kiss you again. Instead of his lips, you feel the skin of the spartan fruit press against your mouth. “Here, taste it. Taste how you taste to me,”
At his instruction, your teeth sink into the fruit's flesh. Juice squirts from your bite and slides down the corners of your mouth. Spider’s hold shifts from your chin to curve around the side of your neck, holding you close as he leans in again and licks up the escaping streams with his tongue. A helpless grunt escapes you as you chew. You’ve eaten this fruit your whole life, you know what it tastes like - but somehow, coming from Spider’s giving hands, it tastes sweeter now, more flavorful and satisfying. And knowing that this is how you taste to him… you’ll never be able to look at it the same way again. 
He kisses your throat lovingly as you swallow before guiding your face towards his again, recapturing your lips and this time tasting the fruit he claims to love so much directly from your own tongue. 
You’re breathless when he pulls away again. Your eyes try to flutter open, nerves momentarily forgotten and you really want to see him right now. His lips would probably be red from your kiss - red and shiny from spit and the juice of the fruit. But the blindfold keeps you from the sight and the darkness that meets your open eyes makes you whine unhappily. 
He shushes you, pulling one of your hands from where it's still fisted in your tewng and holding it in his own. He presses the fruit into your own hand this time and urges you to take another bite. More juice spills out on your face as your teeth tear into the flesh of the fruit, dripping out over your chin and down your fingers and wrist. 
“Look at you making such a mess,” He teases, and you wonder if the double meaning of his words are purposeful. Your face and hand is a mess, yes - but does he know how wet you are? Can he tell just from looking at you how the wetness between your thighs feels like it's unbearable? Surely there’s a stain on his bed right now from where your slick has seeped into the sheets. 
You nearly bite your tongue as you chew your second bite when you feel his tongue licking up your forearm, diligently sweeping up every racing dribble until he’s cleaned everything there is and he’s moved on to cleaning the delicate skin of your wrist. He plucks the fruit from your hand and it splatters as Spider discards it on the floor, the wet smack sounding through the room as it lands on the hard tile. A part of you wants to scold him - wasting perfectly good food is not usually accepted by the Na’vi. All food is provided by the Great Mother, whether it is hunted or gathered, and all should be respected and used to the best of one’s ability. 
But the feel of Spider’s mouth on your first finger has any words you might have tried to get out dying in your throat. You tilt your head down a bit so that if you could see through the blindfold, you would see at the same time as you feel when Spider presses his lips to your fingertip. But the blindfold keeps you in the dark, giving you no hint of a visual through its dark fabric. So you're stuck with just the sensation when his lips part around the tip, lips that feel just as plump and wet and sticky as you imagined. His mouth slides down your finger, soft tongue sliding against the underside of it as his mouth sinks down lower. Your breathing is rough when he pulls off, ears twitching when they catch the small pop his mouth makes when he releases it. That tongue slips between your first finger and your middle finger, licking into the V between them to clean the stickiness before sucking the next finger into his mouth for good measure. 
By the time he reaches your last finger, you’re trying to close your thighs - just trying to find some relief in the relentless tingles bullying you in your tewng. Spider’s hips block your attempt and all it does is make you squeeze him between your legs harder. He doesn’t make any auditory or physical moves to stop you if he minds. 
“You’ve made a mess on me too,” He says, voice more gravelly now. Two of his fingers brush against your bottom lip. “Clean it up.”
Your mouth falls open with a soft groan. Spider’s finger’s slip inside, fruit sticky fingers sliding against your tongue and you listen when he repeats his command - “clean them up, pretty girl,” - lips closing around his fingers as you obediently suck the mess clean. Spider’s strong fingers stroke against the surface of your tongue, dexterous fingertips feeling the texture and slight roughness from it. 
“I’m told that women like my tongue cause it’s extra soft, but I think about the Na’vi tongue a lot.” A short pause and then - “Yours specifically.”
Did you hear that correctly? No, there’s no way. Spider thinks about you? Your tongue? 
But your ears are still working, and they hear him loud and clear when he leans in to whisper in it. 
“Like how it would feel as you suck my cock,” A moan rips from your throat at his words, the sound muffled by the fingers invading your mouth, and for a second, you can try to pretend like it's his cock instead. It would be so nice, to finally feel the thick length you know he’s keeping hidden under his tewng. Humans for all their flawed design don’t keep their parts in a protective sheath like the Na’vi do. When Spider runs or jumps or trains, you can see everything. How it moves under the thin fabric of the tewng and shifts without the security of a sheath or restraint more tawtute clothing tends to provide. 
You haven’t seen any other human cocks, but you have seen Spider’s before - in an accidental stumble near the lake while on a walk with Renu while he, Neteyam, and Lo’ak were washing up after the day’s training. It was right there, hanging heavy between his thighs as he scrubbed at his body, and you remember thinking that proportionally, at least compared to what you believed most other human’s had between their legs, that he is quite blessed by whatever god made him. 
He pulls his fingers from your mouth, a strand of saliva landing wetly on your bottom lip as it snaps from where it was trying to cling to his retreating fingers. You whine at the loss, hands finally leaving the safety of your tewng to hold onto his hips. He kisses you again, lips pressing against yours and tongue slipping inside, but this time it seems like it’s less for tasting and more just for the sake of kissing. He’s kissing you because he wants to kiss you. 
“Wish I could see your pretty eyes,” He mumbles against your lips. “Want to see them all wild, and desperate, and gorgeous for me.”
“Spider,” You breathe, belly tightening when he nips at your lip.
“But no,” He continues. “My gorgeous girl needs to be blindfolded.”
You do. Oh, Eywa, yes you do. Because you wouldn’t be able to handle this right now if you weren’t. You want to see him, want to be brave and take off the blindfold and let your greedy eyes soak in the sight of him that you’re sure if you could see right now would take your breath away. But you’re still too tense, too nervous. You would ruin any suspense and excitement Spider’s worked to build in a heartbeat. You know it and you know that he knows it too. 
But the blindfold makes you wonder, brain working overtime trying to conjure up an image of Spider when your eyes are blocked from seeing the real him. You wish you could look into his beautiful eyes too, see their warmth and intensity and have the visual make your heart twist in the same way they also make you feel safe. You think about your own pupils and how if he were to pull off the blindfold, he’d probably see more black than gold right now and you wonder if his would look the same - the pool of black growing with want as he stares at you knowing you can’t stare back at him as it explodes and overtakes all that rich and warm brown. Would his lips still be red or even more red now? Spitslicked but now sticky free from how you sucked all the fruit juice from them. The skin of his hips is warm under your fingertips and you wonder if maybe his skin is flushed too. 
You don’t know what to do, so you whimper his name again, wordlessly begging for him to guide you.
“Mawey,” He says gently. “Just relax for me, okay? You’re safe here.”
Just relax for me, okay?
Memories of that first night rush back to you in an instant and you remember how he spoke those exact words to you, breathed them over your drenched folds like a promise before he ate you out within an inch of your life. The CO2 mask looped around your neck disappears from your chest as Spider lifts it to your face. 
“And don’t forget to breathe, skxawng,” He chuckles. The extra carbon air helps clear your brain a bit and you instantly feel calmer - you hadn’t even known that you were starting to struggle to breathe. He drops the mask back against your chest and cups your cheek, thumb brushing lightly under the edge of the blindfold. “You can touch me.”
His words are nothing more than a whisper of sound, but you hear them clearly. Your fingers twitch against his sides, feeling the smooth skin beneath your fingertips, and you want to move them - want to feel the smooth hard muscles under your touch - but you can’t force yourself to leave the safety of his hips. 
Spider chuckles like he can see your internal crisis. He probably can - just because you can’t see anything doesn’t mean he can’t. He can see you. Is staring at you, observing you and taking you in. He can see every facial expression you make. Every deep breath, every jaw drop, every lip bite. He can see the flush you know for a fact is on your face, cheeks probably flaring a deep purple under your blue skin. He could see the mess you made on your face when you bit into the fruit and the way your chest is rising and falling with each shaky breath you take. The deep sound of his laugh seems to reverberate through your entire body and you jump when his hands cover your own. 
“Like this,” He says, and then your hands are sliding up his torso and suddenly, that’s all you can focus on. 
He helps you caress his stomach - toned muscle under smooth skin - and you feel when he flexes it underneath your fingers and you can’t help but wonder if it was an intentional flex just to flaunt or if it was an automatic response to your touch. He pulls your hands up, pressing your palms flat against his skin as he drags one directly up the middle of his stomach, one of your fingers dipping into the dip of his belly button while the other hand runs along his ribs. His skin is hot under your touch, miles and miles of pure solid muscle that scream Na’vi all in one devastatingly handsome human body. 
He drags your hands up higher to feel his chest and you wonder if sliding your hands across his chest and stomach are smearing the stripes painted on his body like the bedsheets had. It would be subtle, barely noticeable to a Na’vi if they weren’t paying attention and definitely not noticeable to another human unless they were specifically looking for the smudge. The dye made from the Spartan fruit is made to last. But for Spider, eventually it comes off - wipes away with bathing and the normal physicality of everyday life. You’d give anything to see if you’re messing them up now. 
Your guided palms run across his chest, fingertips grazing over one of his nipples. You’ve gotten used to the neverending canvas smooth skin underneath your hands. You’ve seen his body countless times before since Spider chooses to honor The People by wearing the traditional Na’vi clothing; so you know what his chest looks like. But that doesn’t stop you from trying to blindly map it out in your brain now, each pass of your palms against some newly untouched skin unlocking another area in the layout in your mind. 
And then suddenly, there’s a part of his chest that doesn’t feel so smooth. It’s raised a bit, bumpy and out of place amongst all the rest that you’ve felt so far, and you know without a doubt that you’ve reached his bullet scar. And this is it - the real reason Spider ultimately overcame the natural distrust that the Na’vi have for humans, something that he dealt with the entirety of his young life, and gained not only the trust and respect of The People, but also Neytiri as well. 
You’ve heard the story before: Spider reuniting with his brothers on the demon ship in the middle of the ocean after months of being held hostage only to almost witness one of his brothers being killed. They brought a man back to life, put him in the body of a fake Na’vi, and he had his gun pointed at Neteyam, aimed and ready to kill. When the shot went out, Spider jumped in front and took the bullet - the metal ball embedding itself in the space where his chest meets his shoulder instead of hitting Neteyam in the heart like it was aiming for. 
Spider saved his brother’s life that night, finally proving himself to the one person who always swore she would never forgive him for the sins of his father. But he saved her son, and he gained a mother and official family in return. 
“Love feeling your hands on me,” Spider says, and you’re shocked to hear them come out closer to a groan. “Eywa knows I imagine it way too much when I’m by myself at night.”
“You think about me at night?” You ask, voice barely a whisper, and this time you're not sure if you’re more shocked you were able to say anything at all or that Spider was actually able to hear you. 
“You shouldn’t be surprised,” He says, grin obvious in his tone of voice. “I already confessed that I think about you. Your tongue too, remember?” He drops his hands from yours, leaving you to keep your own hands where they are on his body as he grabs your face again, pulling you in for another quick kiss and murmurs against your lips. “I’m always thinking about you.”
This time when he pulls back, one of his hands sneaks towards the back of your skull. Your fingers curl into his shoulders, nails digging into the hard muscle, but he doesn’t seem to care as his own hand curls around your kuru and pulls it over your shoulder. 
“I’ve always wondered about these things too,” He says. Your eyes fly open behind the blindfold, mouth falling open too in a silent plea for something you’re not even sure of what you’re begging for. He’s just caressing the hair braided around the kuru, carefully fisted hand sliding down the silky strands that protect the most sacred part of you. But you can feel the way his fist compresses your braid, just the barest hint of pressure and your thighs are threatening to try to close on him again as the feeling goes right to your core. “Been jealous, you know? Wondering how it would feel to connect with the world. The Tree of Souls, an ikran. A mate.”
His hand trails down the braid, moving closer and closer towards the bottom and you feel like you want to jump out of your skin when his curious touch reaches the bottom tie. You whimper his name again - in warning or as a beg you’re not sure. But you feel as exposed as you ever thought you could when he flips the bottom of your braid upside down, the loose strands under the tie falling away to reveal the pink and wriggly tendrils that only you have ever been intimately familiar with. 
The tendrils stretch and wiggle in the air as they search for something to bond with, and you wonder if your fingernails are piercing Spider’s skin with how hard you’re digging your nails into his shoulders. Just the barest hint of his fingertip touches the end of a tendril and you gasp at the shock of electricity it sends down your spine. The tendril stretches desperately for his finger as it retreats.
“I always wondered what it would feel like,” 
You don’t even have time to think before his fingers are back. The tendrils act on their own, wrapping themselves around his offered fingers before your brain can even register what is happening. A silent scream rips from your throat as bright sparks explode behind the darkness of the blindfold. Spider plays with the extension of your nervous system, waving his fingers to pull and move the tendrils and it feels like he’s playing with the entirety of you - mind, body, and soul - all at once. 
“Fuck, Spider,” You gasp, thighs instinctively trying to clamp closed again as your clit throbs, but Spider releases his hold on the bottom of your braid to push your thighs apart again, moving his own legs wider between yours to keep you spread. 
“Keep those legs open for me,” He tells you, and then more gently, “Does it hurt?”
Yes. Yes, it hurts. It hurts in a way that feels so good it’s overwhelming. Hurts in the way that you know you shouldn’t be experiencing this but yet somehow you are. Other Na’vi don’t touch each other like this - at least not that you’ve ever heard. They bond with each other, joining their kuru’s together so that they can be with one another on a spiritual level, bonding for life as they join their soul with another person for an eternity together. It’s a loving experience where you feel everything your partner feels - every touch, every emotion, and every memory - shared together in a magic experience granted by The Great Mother herself. 
Spider can’t do that with you. He can’t bond with you for life and connect the kuru he doesn’t have with yours. He shouldn’t be touching you like this. It’s more intimate than sex. It’s invasive, and intense, and fuck fuck fuck the sensations are going straight to your core and you’re going to cum. 
You’re gonna cum. Gonna cum. Gonna–
But then Spider’s fingers are gone, pulled away from your kuru despite your internal protests and the tendrils' clear attempts to keep hold of him. 
“Y/n, I need you to answer me,” Spider says, free hand grabbing your jaw and forcing your blindfolded eyes to meet his. “Did that hurt?”
Your breathing is harsh as you try to force out your words. “N-no. F-feels good.”
“Mm, yeah? Felt good?”
You want to say so much more. Want to say yes, keep going. Don’t stop. Touch it more. Touch me more. Drag your fingers from my kuru and drag them through my slit instead. Press those capable fingers against my clit and make me cum over and over and over again. But you can’t say it, rendered speechless again when you feel Spider lift the end of your kuru up towards his mouth, warm breath fanning over the sensitive tendrils. 
“You know, now that I’ve felt them on my fingers, I can’t help but wonder what they might taste like,”
That’s all the warning you get before he does it, holding your kuru in a firm grip as he drags his tongue across the tendrils. You think you actually scream this time, eyes widening and rolling back into your head behind the blindfold as your core tightens, pussy spasming and gushing as your orgasm soaks your tewng. He keeps his tongue there, the wet muscle slipping through the tendrils as they try to grip onto it and find purchase. Each swipe and graze feels like a never ending climax, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body and it doesn’t stop. Doesn’t stop, doesn’t stop - his tongue on your kuru keeps you cumming and cumming and distantly a part of you worries your heart might stop with all the electricity shooting through your veins. 
Spider’s tongue slides away, breaking the connection to your kuru, and you feel like you can breathe again. Sobbing gasps rip from your chest as your body shakes, thighs trembling and pussy still spasming and you can feel the tears falling from the corners of your eyes soaking into the blindfold. It takes you a second to register that your hands have moved from pressing against Spider’s chest to squeezing his biceps, nails digging into the flesh. 
“Did my pretty girl cum?” He rasps, and oh Eywa, his voice is so beautiful. Deep timbre is made even deeper and more seductive as he practically growls at you. “Fuck, I want to see your eyes. They probably look so fucked out already. Glassy and dazed and beautiful just like their owner.”
Your ears twitch as they pick up on his heavy breathing, and then you feel it on your neck as he presses a teasing kiss to your racing pulsepoint. He grins against your throat.
“I still remember how they looked when I ate you out,” And then, almost as if he were quoting you word for word, “They’re what I see every time I close my eyes at night.”
“Please,” You whine. 
“Please what, yawne?”
The Na’vi term of endearment makes your heart skip a beat. “Want to touch you,”
“You are touching me,”
“No,” You do your best to ignore the teasing tone in his voice. “No, I wanna touch you.”
“Hmm, you wanna touch me? Touch me where?” He pulls one of your hands from his arms and drags it down his body, over his chest. “Here?” A little bit lower now, allowing his smooth and toned stomach back under your palms. “Or maybe here?”
“Lower,” You whisper, voice just a bit desperate.
“Lower? Like here?”
He drags your hand lower and for the first time ever your hand runs over the light material of his tewng. The bulge underneath it is evident and Spider drops his hand from yours, letting you take control for the first time tonight. Your hand cradles the hardness, taking a moment to let yourself feel the awe of the situation you’ve somehow found yourself in. It’s too much and then suddenly it's not enough anymore. You don’t want to feel it though a layer of fabric. You want to be greedy, feel skin on skin. You need it. Need more. 
Spider seems to read your mind. “Just tell me what you want,” 
“Off,” You tell him, fingers creeping up to try to slide beneath the waistband. “Please, I want it off.”
“Yes, ma’am,” He teases, and then you feel the obtrusive fabric fall away. 
Carefully, you bring your hand to where you think his cock is, fingers trailing down his lower belly, tracing the V until it leads you to where you want to be. It jumps under your touch the second your fingers graze the heated length and a giggle of nervous excitement bursts from your chest. 
“What are you giggling at?” Spider asks. Maybe in another situation you would have been worried you offended him. Giggling as you’ve just touched his dick is probably not the best thing you could have done. But there’s a smile in his voice as he asks the question, and you think you can picture it in your head now - how he would look there, staring down at you with your hand on him and a small pleased smirk on his face. 
“It jumped when I touched it,” You tell him like he wasn’t also there when it happened, and fuck, you sound so stupid, but you can’t help the small smile that creeps on your lips too. 
“He’s excited,” Spider laughs. “Happy to feel your touch instead of mine for a change.”
“Hm,” You hum, pleased feeling in your gut but unsure of how to respond. So you move forward instead, wrapping your fingers more firmly around Spider’s cock and feeling the hefty weight of it in your palm. 
Definitely larger than the average human, you can tell by the way he fills up a decent portion of your palm. He’s warm and heavy between your fingers and you take a moment to study the difference between human and Na’vi by feel. You don’t have any other experience to go on, but Renu has told you plenty of stories to make up for your lack of personal experience when it comes to sex. She’s told you about the stretch before, how it can be overwhelming to the point of too much for even another Na’vi who is designed to take it. She’s told you how the barbs are both a blessing and a curse and the absolute mind-numbing pleasure that comes from taking a knot. 
Spider’s isn’t like that. It’s smooth under your touch, the only real texture coming from a couple large veins that trail down the underside of his cock. There’s a stickiness at the top when your thumb sweeps over the head, precum coating your fingertips as you drag it back down along his length to wet it. You pump it a few times, listening to Spider’s heavy breathing and the undertone of what sounds like the beginnings of a growl, and even though you just came, you’re already ready to go again. 
It’s not enough - your hand sliding over his hardness feels like so much but also not nearly enough. You want yourself on him, the possessive spark in your brain telling you to claim him in any way that you can. So you reluctantly pull your hand away from his cock, your free hand coming up to curl around the back of his thigh, just below his ass to keep him close. Your other hand snakes into your tewng, underneath the soaked through material, and slides through the wetness there. When you pull your hand back out, it’s coated with your arousal, and you can imagine how it might be shining right now in the fluorescent light of the room as you bring it back to Spider’s cock. 
“Hah fuck,” Spider grunts when you wrap your fingers back around him, and the sound is like music to your ears. 
You lean forward more as you stroke him and blindly aim for his lips, needing to kiss him. The idea of you working his length and using your own wetness as the slick is making you desperate, and you land on his cheek instead just under his eye. You let out a muffled sound of frustration but keep laying pecks on his skin anyway, trailing down his cheek and over his jaw. You’ve just made it to his neck when he grabs your face, directing you back to his mouth and claiming your lips. 
“You’re wiping my stripes off,” He murmurs against your lips.
And fuck. Fuck fuck fuck - that sentence just almost sent you over the edge again.
You’re wiping my stripes off.
Your brain tries to conjure the image of his cock again, using every available piece of knowledge at your disposal. The image from the accidental viewing at the lake, too far to see any detail like apparently painted stripes on his cock but close enough to see its size, manifests in your mind's eye. Only this time, you can picture it closer - feel the weight of it in your hand and know that yes, yes there are stripes painted on it. 
What would it look like now? Are they still there? Would they still be in their places but smeared, or maybe just faded from the wetness and friction of your hand? Or are they gone completely, the only remains just some smudges of blue against the shaft?
“Wanna see,” You plead back against his mouth, but he clicks his tongue at you and pulls your hand from his pulsing cock. 
“Nope. You’re blindfolded, remember?” He lays one last peck on your lips before pressing a hand against your chest. “Now be a good girl and lean back for me, okay?”
The familiar feeling of the sheets against your back sends you back to that night nearly a week ago and without thinking you grab the mask hanging against your chest and press it over your face. Spider’s laugh makes your face heat up even more than it already is, but you’re feeling more comfortable now - drunk off your orgasm and everything about him - so you grin behind the mask despite the fire licking at your cheeks. 
“My good girl learned from last time, I see,” He comments.
The bed dips a little as he leans on it, and then you feel skilled fingers at the ties of your top. The top falls away at just a few movements and falls onto the mattress, revealing your breasts and perked up nipples. You get just a second of warning when you feel the puff of his breath on your breast before his lips press a revenant kiss to the swell of it. Another kiss to your nipple, soft and sweet, before he’s catching it between his blunt teeth and pulling on it gently. 
You hum in appreciation, arching your chest closer to him as he tongues at the spot to soothe the bite. He presses another kiss to the hard peak before switching to your other breast to show it the same attention and you moan when he blows cool air on the spit slicked skin. He moves diligently down your body, pressing his mouth against the skin over your ribs and trailing kisses down your belly as he heads to his final destination. 
He skips it for a moment, tongue running over the tops and insides of your thighs to clean up the forgotten juice drippings from the fruit, and then he’s tugging your tewng from your body, drenched folds on display for his greedy eyes and you know he’s staring - you can feel his eyes on you just as clearly as if you were able to take off your blindfold and see it. Maybe you should do it now. There’s no going back, you’re in too deep now and you don’t think you’d run. But then he wraps his arms under your thighs and spreads you wide, holding you down and right where he wants you, and you don’t have a choice. 
One hand keeps the carbon mask over your mouth and nose while the other tangles in the bedsheets in anticipation. 
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” He groans. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
You breathe a laughing sigh into the mask. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls,”
“No,”
It’s definitive. Said like a fact, and you don’t have time to mull over what that means before his mouth is on your center and your thoughts come to a screeching halt. 
He licks up everything you have to give, groaning and growling against you like a wild animal as he shakes his face into your cunt. His tongue is so soft as it runs up your slit, exactly like you remembered it feeling and yet this time, somehow, it feels so much better. It slides across your clit like it loves it, laving across the sensitive bundle of nerves like it was designed especially for it -  to run over it, caress it, adore it. This is his skill, he’s mastered his art and now he’s performing every trick he’s learned on your poor, sopping, and responsive pussy. 
You can feel the impending rush of a second orgasm hurtling towards you with every calculated swipe of Spider’s tongue. The vibrations of his groans spur you on, pushing you closer and closer to that familiar blissful edge that you think only he could bring you towards like this. Your hands move on their own accord, abandoning your mask and the sheets as both of them reach down to wind themselves into Spider’s dreadlocks, intent on keeping him there. Right there. Right there! Yes! Yes! Right there!
“Oh, ma Eywa!” You shout, body tensing as your orgasm rips through you. Your thighs shake in Spider’s grip. “Spider! Please,”
Your pussy clenches around nothing, body jolting and writhing against the mattress as he moans in satisfaction as your clit throbs on his tongue. And even though you’ve just cum for the second time today, you can’t help but want more. It’s crazy to think about. You’re so sensitive already, but you want to cum again. 
On his fingers.
On his cock. 
On your own fingers as you take him in your mouth. 
Fuck, you want it so bad. 
“Spider, please,” 
“What, yawne?” He sounds absolutely wrecked. 
You whimper, trying to push yourself up a little, but he holds you down with a strong hand to your chest. “Wanna suck your cock,”
He sounds like he’s been knocked in the gut, the punched out sound he makes catches you off guard and your ears immediately flatten against your head. But he forces you all the way back down until your back hits the mattress and presses his still wet lips against yours in a quick kiss. 
“I want you to,” He says. “Believe me, y/n. I want you to. But I won’t last for you like that. Not right now. I need– I need to fuck you.”
Yes! Yes, you need it too. Need it so badly. Your legs spread for him automatically at his words and he settles perfectly between them. His hard length rests along your belly for a moment, warm and heavy as he presses it against your stomach. And then he’s gliding it down, the blunt head of his cock gliding through your folds, the drag over your swollen clit making you shiver. When the tip nudges at your entrance, you wait with baited breath - waiting for the moment he decides to push in so you can finally know how it feels.
Another woman in the clan who had experienced Spider’s mouth gloated about his skills, but also made sure to say that she thinks those skills end with the oral experience. 
“He isn’t big enough, right? Sure his mouth is pure perfection, but he’s not as big as an actual Na’vi. He doesn’t have the right sized part to fully satisfy that way, you know?”
You always knew she must have been wrong. Your gut told you she was. Even if Spider wasn’t as big as Na’vi males proportionally, that didn’t mean he couldn’t satisfy with what he has. And with how it felt in your hand and against your belly - you’d guess it’s plenty enough. It feels big as he presses it against your entrance, the pressure making you tense in excitement as he pushes just a little bit inside. The stretch is still enough to make you gasp, the sensitivity of already having multiple orgasms making everything even more sensitive as he works it in more. Each inch is glorious, the stretch around his girth as he pushes into you is enough to make your legs shake more in pleasure than intensity, and you moan as he bottoms out inside you, your tail flicking against the bed beside you happily. 
“You okay?”
You smile at his question. Every part of you wants to say yes. Of course you’re okay. This is perfect. Beyond perfect. 
You settle for a soft, “Yeah,” and then your grin is interrupted by his first thrust. 
You feel when his hand comes to steady himself next to your head, his other hand hitching your thigh up higher so it hooks over his hip, pushing him in just a little deeper than before. And even though you’re not filled to capacity, so overwhelmed on someone’s cock as they hit your cervix like some other woman made you feel like you needed to be, it’s still soooo good. Spider’s cock hits what it needs to hit, dragging against the most important parts inside you that make you squeal and your toes curl in pleasure. Sometimes he torments you, fucking you with perfectly timed thrusts, pushing you back towards that precipice of bliss only to pull out again, leaving you with a heaving chest and a desperately clenching pussy in the wake of his absence. And when he pushes in again, it's like the first time all over again - and you’re arching against the bed, pushing yourself down on him just to get him sheathed back inside you again where he belongs. 
You want to see him, want to see the way his eyes look as he fucks you. Want to see his lips, probably still glistening with spit and the remnants of your arousal, part with each grunt and groan and moan as he fucks into you - chasing his own high just as much as he pushes you towards your own. 
Without giving yourself a chance to back out, you pull the blindfold from your head and there’s just pure brightness. 
The overhead light of the room sits brightly behind Spider’s body, enveloping him in a bright halo as he blocks most of the harsh light with his head. Everything is blurry for a moment as your eyes adjust to the brightness after having spent so long in the dark, but it only takes a second for your feline eyes to adjust to the new light.
And what you see is beautiful. 
Spider is there above you, sweaty and panting as he thrusts inside you, eyes dark and glazed over in pleasure with a red mouth, visible teeth marks embedded into his bottom lip like he bit it to keep himself from making so much noise. Those lips pull into a devastating smile when he sees you’ve pulled off the blindfold, but his thrusts don’t stop. 
“There they are,” He says. “There’s those gorgeous eyes I’ve been dying to see. Hi,”
“Hi,” You breathe.
You can feel that coil in your belly tightening, each thrust forcing it tighter and tighter until it's threatening to snap in a second. Spider’s hand reaches between your legs and plays with your overstimulated clit, dragging the wetness around the swollen nub as he thrusts against you harder. 
Your eyes threaten to slip shut against the pleasure, but Spider snaps his hips against yours roughly making them snap open again. 
“Don’t close them,” He tells you, rubbing your clit faster. “Wanna see them. Keep looking at me. Look right at me,”
When the coil snaps and you cum, it's looking directly in his eyes. 
Golden eyes lock onto simmering brown and your pussy clenches around his cock, trying desperately to milk him for all he’s worth as you cum around him. You cry out as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, and the sound of him moaning and the feel of his release scorching your insides will be forever burned in your memory. 
Just a few days ago, he made you cum so hard you couldn’t bear to look at him afterwards.
Now? You’re not sure if you’d be able to cum without looking at him if you tried. 
Taglist: @eywaite @lyannalothbrok @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @xylianasblog @anemonelovesfiction @sbrn0905 @cuddle-stuff @pandoraslxna @bubblesfrfr @veiraiya @minjianhyung
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sarastellasari · 2 days ago
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New Years Kiss (Part Two)
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part one, part three!
ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂
Lyra couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious as she approached the Hawthorne house. What if she messed something up? She knew all of these people, yes, but she hadn’t really hung out with them. As she passed by the gates, she couldn’t help but gawk at the enormous grounds. They were beautiful but also slightly terrifying. She couldn’t help but wonder if Grayson or any of his brothers had ever gotten lost on them.
To Lyras surprise, when she knocked on the door, instead of a doorman or security guard answering as she expected, it was Avery, her face filled with excitement, looking beautiful in a tight green strappy dress. 
“Hi, Lyra!” Avery said, reaching to pull her inside. Lyra smiled at her. “I’m so happy you came! You’re right on time! Everyone else is here, let’s go find them!” 
Avery led Lyra to a courtyard in the back. Lyra gawkedt at the decorations. The entire yard was covered in streamers and fairy lights and there were balloons floating high in the air. There were different arcade games scattered around the courtyard, including a few that looked homemade. The scent of champagne lingered in the air.
“Dang.” Avery shrugged modestly.
“Usually we’d do more, but this is just our friends.” Lyra let out a sigh of relief. She had been dreading being photographed, being crowded, being surrounded by people who deserved to be here far more than her. Avery smiled at her relief.
“I agree. I’m so glad I got Alisa to give in.” Avery’s eyes suddenly widened as she saw Nash leisurely strolling towards them, dressed in a shiny black tuxedo and matching cowboy hat.
“Hey Nash,” Avery said. Lyra waved awkwardly. “What’s up?”
“My brothers are… still getting ready. Avery, there was a delay.” Lyra snorted.
“How? They live here.” Nash grinned at her.
“Good question.” Then he strolled back to Libby, dressed in a deep sapphire gown and hat matching Nash’s. 
“It’s ok. Grayson will be here soon.” Avery said, glancing at Lyras face with a smirk. Lyra sputtered.
“I- I don’t care about-“
“Mhm. Let’s go talk with the others! Have you met Thea?” 
And so Avery pulled Lyra away from the house, and over to Thea, who was standing with Rebecca. Both girls were in gold, nearly the same shade as the streamers around the yard.
“Hey girls. Lyra right?” Lyra nodded. Thea smirked.
“Where are your dates?” Thea asked.
“Grayson and Jameson are getting ready with Xander,” Avery said, scowling at Thea, who gave her a knowing look.
“Anyways,” Avery said, clearly changing the subject.
“Thea and Rebecca, are you excited to kiss at midnight?” Rebecca flushed all the way from her red hair to her equally red dress. Thea laughed.
“As much as I’m sure you are, Avery. What about you Lyra? Are you planning to kiss anyone?” Lyra cringed, feeling her cheeks turn red. 
“Uh-“ 
“You know,” Thea continued, “I’m sure Grayson would be up for it. He’s single, you know. Oh, look! It’s Max. Come on, Rebecca, let’s go say hi.” And Rebecca and Thea left. Leaving Lyra bewildered with Avery.
“What did she mean?” She asked, turning to Avery, who cringed.
“Oh, you know. Just Thea being Thea.” Lyra rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long night. She should’ve just gone back home to her parents and brother.
Just then, Avery’s phone dinged. Her eyes lit up.
“Oh look! Jameson is inside. He needs help with something. Come with me?” Lyra raises an eyebrow. She was sure that Jameson needing “help” with something was probably code for… something she didn’t want to witness, but she didn’t want to leave the one person she knew, so she nodded in agreement. Avery cheerfully led her into the mansion. Lyra gawked at each room they passed, at every painting probably worth millions. No matter how many times she had been inside, it never got old. And she was pretty sure she had never been in this wing before.
“Avery, where are we going?” She asked, slightly worried that they were lost. Avery grinned. 
“A room.” 
“Thanks,” Lyra said sarcastically. Avery laughed. Lyra frowned. She felt a bit uneasy like she was being tricked into something.  The feeling escalated when Avery opened an elaborately designed door. Lyras eyes widened. Jameson was standing in the room. And next to him… 
Grayson was tied up in a chair. Lyra felt herself turning, asking what was going on. Suddenly, Avery pushed her into the room exactly as Jameson sprinted out. The door slammed behind them.
“Lovely.” Grayson sighed.
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Grayson silently cursed his brothers, Avery, and everyone else who had gotten him into this situation. He knew his brothers were planning something when he saw their smirks, but he never thought it would be this… extreme. He silently watched as Lyra hurried to the other side of the room and grabbed a pair of scissors clearly left on a table. At least they didn’t intend for him to stay trapped then.
“Thank you.” He said stiffly after Lyra cut him out of his bonds.
“Where are we?” She asked scowling, before hurrying over to the door and trying to turn the knob.  It was locked, of course.
“One of the libraries. The smallest one.” Grayson sighed.
“One of the- nevermind. How do we get out?” Grayson shrugged. “Knowing my brothers, probably a game or puzzle of some sort.” 
“Correct!” Came Xander's voice from a walkie-talkie subtly hidden on the bookshelf. Grayson cursed, jumping. Lyra burst into laughter.
“Figure out what we want you to do and do it, and you will be let out!”
“Xander I swear on all that is holy if you do not-“  Grayson trailed off. He knew what his brothers wanted them to do. 
“Oh my god. Xander, that is not happening. Xander? Xander!” But there was no response. Grayson swore under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. He probably looked like a mess- his blonde hair frizzy from fighting with Jameson on the rug, and his grey suit jacket rumpled from being tied up.
Of course, Lyra looked perfect though, in her red strapless dress and matching earrings, hair, and makeup perfect as usual. 
“Could we break a window?” Lyra suggested.  Grayson shook his head. 
“Probably not. We could try though. He grabbed a book and threw it at the window, shaking his head when it didn’t work.
“Ok, that didn’t work. Now what?” He shrieked as without warning,  Lyra smacked the window, full force, with her high heel. The window shattered. She tried again. It broke completely.
“I really hope that window wasn’t expensive.” She panted. Grayson simply climbed through, offering her a hand as she did as well. Somehow she still looked flawless.
“Let’s go back to the party. Grayson suggested. Lyra nodded.
ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂
part one, part three!
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hiddcnhorizcns · 3 days ago
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Noah was pretty sure that somewhere, in some karmic ledger, this was payback for every bad decision he’d ever made. Of course, Sammi would find a way to turn a near-death experience into an argument about bath time. Because why process trauma like a normal person when you can channel all your energy into debating basic safety precautions? It wasn’t fear clawing at his chest when he saw her stubbornly arguing with the nurse—it was irritation wrapped in a layer of disbelief. She had a concussion, dried blood on her face, and the audacity to demand unsupervised bubble baths. And the worst part? He couldn’t decide if he wanted to shake her for being reckless or laugh at how on-brand it was for her to make even this a fight. And yet, beneath the sarcastic swirl of 'Seriously, what did I do to deserve this?' was the familiar, unwanted pang of protectiveness that always came with her. She could be infuriating, reckless, and absolutely impossible, but she was his impossible mess, even if only in some twisted, nostalgic corner of his heart. That feeling, he decided, was the real punishment. Not her stubbornness, not the argument, but the fact that he still cared enough to fight the urge to wrap her in bubble wrap and stand guard outside the bathroom. If he had a drink for every time she made him feel like this—equal parts amused and completely over it—he’d have been unconscious hours ago. Instead, here he was, trying to decide whether to strangle her, laugh, or just admit defeat and make sure she didn’t drown in three feet of soapy water. Noah leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the nurse throw him a pleading glance like she was about five seconds from quitting. He let out a long-suffering sigh, the kind that said I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but then again, this was Sammi, and nothing was ever simple with her.
“Alright, ” he said, uncrossing his arms and waving a hand toward the door. “You’ve done your bit. Go home. Take the rest of the night off. I’ll deal with her.” His tone was casual, but there was a finality to it that left no room for argument. The nurse hesitated, glancing between him and Sammi, who was no doubt standing there with her arms crossed and an expression that screamed victory. “Are you sure?” the nurse asked, clearly unconvinced. “She’s—”
“I know exactly what she is,” Noah cut in, his smirk sharp enough to draw blood. “Stubborn, reckless, and entirely too good at giving people migraines. But trust me, I’ve been dealing with this one for years. She’s not going to get the better of me.” The nurse still looked reluctant, but Noah’s expression didn’t waver. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she nodded. “Fine. But if anything happens—”
“Nothing will happen,” Noah said smoothly, already moving toward Sammi. “I’ve got it under control.” Once the nurse left, Noah turned to Sammi, his smirk morphing into something more amused as he looked her over. “There. Now it’s just the two of us. Happy?” He gestured toward the bathroom with a flourish. “Your royal highness can have her bath in peace, and I’ll be right outside, making sure you don’t go and drown yourself just to prove a point.” His fingers twitched at his sides, itching for another drink, but he knew he’d already had enough to mess with his judgment—not that his judgment was ever particularly solid when it came to Sammi. Sammi in the bath, her hair wet, her skin flushed from the heat, vulnerable in a way that twisted something deep inside him. He hated himself for it. Hated how easily his resolve cracked when it came to her. He was supposed to be the guy with ice in his veins, the one who could cut anyone loose when the situation demanded it. But with her? With her, it was like fate had written them into the same damn story, and no matter how many times he ripped the pages out, they found their way back. He told himself he was just keeping her safe. That this wasn’t about her, or the way her laugh used to light up the darkest corners of his life, or how she could get under his skin like no one else. But the truth? The truth was sitting in his chest like a live grenade, waiting to go off. He wanted her. He always had. And the fact that she was off-limits now made it worse. That diamond on her finger should have been a wall, a hard line he wouldn’t cross. Instead, it felt like a taunt, daring him to see how close he could get before he burned.
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It felt like a blur. The shots, blood spattered across her face, the sharp pain above her brow. She didn't know whether it was shock or the inability to process everything at once, but it was only when Sammi was in the safety of his car that she was able to process some of what had happened. "What happened? Who were they?" She didn't know that he would know but she was also verbally trying to go through the incidents that happened. The flashes of people falling, the sounds of gunfire in her ear, the searing pain in her forehead made it impossible for her to fully focus on where he was taking her and whether or not she was injured more than her head— or if he'd been hurt in the process. Soon enough, they found themselves at his place and she knew simply by the way the home engulfed her. The scent hit her, the familiar faces, the vastness that was a far cry from the small two bedroom apartment that she lived in with her roommate. She recognized the nurse from the time she'd broken a glass of wine and cut herself, having stitched her back up and treated her with nothing but gentleness and respect. "I'm fine," she tried to assure him and the woman but she should have known better. Noah wouldn't risk it with her and the nurse was his employee who knew of their relationship and wouldn't risk letting something slide by that would effect the woman that Noah loved.
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She nodded at Noah, watching him excuse himself before her attention turned towards the nurse. "I think I may have had a concussion from how nausea I was upon impact, and I was dizzy, but I feel better." Whether it was a moment of clarify or maybe she hadn't hit her head hard enough, she wasn't certain. All she knew was that she was hyper focused on where she was and how wrong it was for her to be here. She'd walked away from Noah with the intent to be with the man that she was meant to spend the rest of her life with, and with her wedding a few days away, this could implode everything. If her husband-to-be found out where she was and Noah still decided to walk away after all of this, Sammi could very well be left on her own. It was her who had everything to lose in this scenario. Nevertheless, she knew that she wasn't going to be leaving in this moment because as stubborn as she was, Noah was by far worse, especially if her safety was in jeopardy. Instead, she focused on doing as the nurse requested and following the orders in order to determine whether she was okay to leave or needed to be watched for the next few hours. She took some medicine, drank some water, and was allowed to rest for an hour without falling asleep in the hopes that the pounding of her head would vanish on its own. But as time passed and boredom grew, she found herself more and more uncomfortable in her own skin. The stench of alcohol, sensation of caked blood, and too tight clothes threatened to drive her crazy.
The echoes of her argument with the nurse soon could be heard down the hall. "It's just a shower!" She yelled out towards the nurse who assured her that the risk of falling over was too grand and she wouldn't allow her. "I don't need you to help me shower or watch over me like a child" Sammi said as she stood from the bed knowing that she wouldn't be tackle into not taking a shower should she want to take one. After a while, they compromised on a bath but Sammi was still reluctant to the aid in cleaning herself up. As someone who loathed depending on other people, she wouldn't back down and accept the help. "No, I'm not having you bathe me. If I end up passing out and drowning then that's the risk I'm willing to take!" Her voice echoed throughout the large home as she walked out of the guest bedroom in search for Noah. "Noah!" The blonde called, wincing at the dizzy spell when she walked but she fought past it. The bandage on her eye had stopped the bleeding. "Can you tell her that I want to take a bath and don't need to be supervised or washed like a toddler?" She said upon finding him, knowing that the nurse would only back down upon his request. He payed her bills and while there were many expensive and important things within this home, she was by far the most cherished to him. At least, she hoped.
"Noah will sit down in the bedroom while I bathe and if he doesn't hear me for ten seconds, he'll rush in. Happy?" She told the nurse who then fixed her gaze on Noah for his approval. At least the male was someone she was comfortable around and while it wasn't the most appropriate, Sammi decided that she wouldn't allow herself to teether close to any sort of line that would disrespect her partner. The blonde touched the diamond on her finger as a reminder. "I'll have bubbles." She told the nurse with a smile on her face and cleared her throat. "I'm guessing that I won't be getting alcohol anytime soon." Likely not with the medicine she was on, but she grimaced at that fact even though her words were sarcastic. "I'll be in the bath. I just need to wash the blood and alcohol smell off of me." Her words turned softer as she held Noah's gaze for a minute longer. Almost as if to let him know that she was okay. "And then I need a phone to call my fiance." Her gaze avoided his now. "I lost mine."
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royaltea000 · 2 months ago
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I’ve never felt so conflicted about a franchise in my life but at least this dude was hot
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#I watched conquering the demons and demons strike back at 3am last night and I have to say I like the first one more#but not by a lot#like I wanted so much to like this movie#but fucking Duan man…#like I read the plot beforehand so I wouldn’t be caught off guard by anything but DAMN that SA scene was sooo much worse watching it#girl this is not the girlboss pussy slay move you think it is queen#I liked her character so much too before that cuz she’s so cool but the unconsented captive fuck or die foreplay was NOT the move#then she had the nerve to rip up sanzang’s book and turn to us and be like you know what I think I still have a chance - GIRL HES RUNNING#then they had the nerve to make him fall in love with her anyway boy you a VICTIM#then the second one just had [redacted] in it and I did not enjoy looking at his face for two hours - ruined the whole experience#also I have to say that was the worst iteration of Sanzang I’ve ever seen I was actually happy when I thought wukong was boutta kill him#I talk all this shit but I really did like the effects and monster designs in the movie they were so cool#also I thought the first sanzang actor was sooo cute and pathetic why didn’t they keep him 😭#well it’s for the best I wouldn’t wanna have seen him turn abusive like they wrote him in the second movie#also dsb is the only movie in which I can understand the wukong and tripitaka shippers cuz that ENDING SCENE yeah I saw it#oh right my tags sorry lol#digital art#my art#journey to the west#jttw sun wukong#conquering the demons#demons strike back#sun wukong#also his glowup in between movies is so funny lmfao#if you couldn’t accept him at his conquering the demons you don’t deserve him at his demons strike back#at least dsb gave me this human version of wukong please sir just one chance just one sniff-
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honeypleasejustkillme · 2 years ago
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i genuinely do not have it in me to claw my way out from rock bottom right now. this can’t happen anymore, it can’t get worse than this. i can’t take it, i’m just not strong enough
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unordinary-diary · 5 months ago
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Blyke and John: Parallel Characters
I’ve written multiple entries about this,
[x] [x] [x]
But I’m back to make a comprehensive analysis about the glaring similarities between these two. I’ll try not to repeat myself here.
‼️SPOILER WARNING for the whole series‼️ but this mostly focuses on the story before John’s suspension.
Firstly, this scene:
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ch. 121
This conversation takes place near the beginning of the Joker arc. It’s after John targets Zeke, after he targets Juni, and the day before he goes after Seraphina’s kidnappers. The timing is important.
“If someone hit your best friend, would you let it slide?”
That question is supposed to remind us what John does to people who hurt Seraphina: hunting them down and sending them to the hospital. Blyke shooting a destructive beam really close to John was an example of a trait they share: they both blow up violently when people mistreat their friends.
John’s downward spiral carries strong themes of hypocrisy. He’s angry at the world, he’s angry at himself, and as a coping mechanism, he chooses to believe that everyone else is as bad as he is. That means that most of the traits he hates others for are the same things he hates about himself. In this scene, Blyke is unintentionally calling out this hypocrisy: “What I did is no different from what you do”.
But Blyke’s just trying to connect with John here, he has no idea what John’s been doing. And John, of course, doesn’t give a shit about what Blyke has to say. This line was here for the audience to notice.
They’re both so similar, but their similarity immediately causes tension between them because, well, John was on the wrong end of Blyke’s protectiveness.
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I really love the way this was written— there are so many flashbacks to this scene, but they remember it differently. John remembers the part that hurt him— he’d describe it as “the time that jackass shot a beam at me”. Blyke remembers the part that hurt him, or rather, hurt Remi: “the time that jackass hit Remi for no reason”.
Blyke and John are both hotheaded characters with strong ideals. They’re similar enough that Seraphina points it out:
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(ch. 80)
As Blyke grows as a character, he becomes more like John: sticking up for low tiers and speaking out against the injustice in the world. But while Blyke is doing that more, John is going in the opposite direction, until they are fully opposed to each other.
Speaking of Blyke’s character arc, it took me a few rereads to actually understand what part of him changed. His kindness, selflessness, bravery— all of those things were there from the start. Blyke’s character arc was about becoming more aware of his surroundings, and how his carelessness can harm others. Blyke was never malicious, but after X-Rei and integrating more with the school, he becomes aware of people suffering around him and how he unintentionally contributes to it. He becomes less reckless, privy to the flaws in the system he grew up not questioning, and uses his power more responsibly. He even comes up with a more controlled way to wield his ability. The part of Blyke that changes is his maturity.
Part of John’s character arc is also about being careful. It’s not as close of a parallel as other things are, but one of the things that John works on during his redemption arc is holding back. Both of them learn self-control throughout the series, and for John, that means acting early before his emotions spiral out of hand.
Adding onto my first point about the two of them wanting to protect their friends— the fact that they can’t do that makes them both angry and desperate. For most of the story, the “block” that prevents John from protecting Seraphina is in his head. It’s his own trauma that holds him back. The block that prevents Blyke from protecting his friends is, guess what? Also John’s trauma! Parallels abound.
Another thing I noticed in Episode 80 is this:
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Notice that when Seraphina says “I’d take that over strength any day,” John is looking at the camera. He’s avoiding Sera’s gaze. Seraphina is saying she prefers honesty over strength. John is very strong, and very dishonest, but Seraphina thinks the opposite because John is so dishonest. John appears to be reflecting on this disconnect.
In relation to this analysis, Seraphina is actually pointing out a major difference between Blyke and John. Beyond that, she’s praising Blyke’s traits, (less strong but very open) above John’s traits, (strong as fuck but a liar with his pants on fire). Furthermore, John really cares what Seraphina thinks of him. Knowing that she would think less of him is the main reason why he spent so much time and effort preventing her from catching his lies.
This leads into my main point here: Blyke is the “goody-two-shoes” version of John. Or, more accurately, the person that John wants to be. Blyke has a clean track record and doesn’t really get into trouble. He is respected and left alone by the school without being hated and feared, he de-escalates conflicts without taking things too far, he doesn’t lose control, he’s someone Seraphina thinks highly of, hell, even his grades are better! Blyke represents everything that John wants to be, and the person that he could have been if he’d gone down a different path.
But, crucially, John is also what Blyke wants to be. Well, not wholly, but his ability? His strength? It’s one of the things John hates about himself, but Blyke wants that strength so desperately that he risks his life for it over and over again.
They’re both desperate to be like each other, even when they hate each other the most. Neither of them have any idea how alike they already are.
I don’t know what Season 3 holds in store for us, but I do hope that John realizes that Blyke embodies who he wants to be, because mutual jealousy would be a very interesting dynamic to explore in my opinion. I also hope that it ends up being something they can bond over, by helping each other accomplish their personal goals. (Blyke being another helper in John’s character arc, and John helping Blyke train.)
A side note: John beat up Blyke four separate times. That’s more than any other character, which is interesting because John’s main rival is supposed to be Arlo. For reference, John has beaten Arlo twice, three times if you count the time when Seraphina intervened, and he only beat him unconscious once. But John beat Blyke to the point of passing out all four times, the worst of which being a shot clean through his chest. (shoulder? Unclear. S1 finale).
It’s odd, isn’t it? Out of everyone, Blyke is the one who John physically hurt the most. John’s only grudge against him is an old memory from episode 33, of an event that didn’t actually harm him. John’s grudge against Arlo is much more serious and again— that’s his main rival. So why is it that he’s so much more violent towards Blyke?
The problem here is that I’ve been thinking about these fights as “John picking on Blyke”. And that’s… kind of true? But while Blyke didn’t start any of these fights, they were all consensual in a way. He didn’t seek to fight John, nor was he ever happy about fighting John, but he was always a willing participant.
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(138, 153, 206, & 211)
In three out of these four fights, John didn’t even expect to be fighting Blyke going into it. This is significant because while Arlo is John’s main rival, John absolutely fills that role for Blyke. Blyke’s own agency is what leads to most of these events. The reason, narratively speaking, why they fight so much is not for John’s character, but for Blyke.
For John, his reason for fighting Blyke so much is not narrative but moreso symbolic. John is angry at everyone and everything, but ultimately the person he hates the most is himself. It’s only fitting that the character most like him would bear the brunt of his wrath.
As John is having his positive character arc (suspension and post-suspension), he is becoming more like Blyke, and the two of them reach a point where they’re even more similar than they were at the start of the series.
In the Rowden amusement park, John does start to realize how similar they are:
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(249)
Additionally, I want to draw your attention to the parallels between this scene:
Blyke and John’s argument in chapter 249
(which the image limit won’t let me add, scroll until you see red hair.)
And this scene:
Argument in ch. 121 (it’s at the beginning)
Two sides of the same coin.
Furthermore, in the S2 finale, Blyke is shown being taken to Keon. There is an implication that by Season 3, Blyke and John will share Keon-related trauma as well. Despite my pessimistic predictions, I do hope that this is a similarity that can bring them together rather than tear them apart.
#unordinary#I had another point that i had to cut#because it was about the john slaps remi scene#and how like blyke knew he wasn’t gonna miss and hit john by accident but john doesn’t necessarily know that#and that john assumes the worst (blyke was aiming for his head) bc he’s mad#and blyke also assumes the worst (that john hit remi for no reason). But when i was looking for screenshots to back it up#and i was looking for the one panel where john referred to blyke as “that idiotic redhead who tried to blow my brains out”#as proof of john assuming the worst#But then i found it and it doesn’t even say what i thought it said#it says “THREATENED to blow my brains out”#Smh john didn’t even assume the worst. He knew it was jyst a threatening shot even thogh he was mad#And then my whole thing kinda falls apart because blyke assuming the worst is actually just the logical conclusion since he can’t read mind#Like how was he gonna know john was having trauma issues#Yargh okay so i think i cut all the parts that don’t really make sense but it’s late so this is a low quality proofread#Gonna be honest this is NOT structured very well#Theres more to be said about john hating other people for the same reasons he hates himself#and I didn’t quite hit it#but it’s lateeeeeee#something about how Blyke is so similar to john but lacks most of what John hates about himself so John projects his insecurities—#back onto him anyway#Something about in ch 249 when he says something something “because I couldn’t cope with the fact that you guys weren’t actually bad people#Yeah idk im too tired to get into it#blyke unordinary#john unordinary#oh also has something to do with when john says “i may have deserved those classes but they sure as hell don’t” about keon#i think that’s significant#analysis#i have a bad feeling that someone in my notes is gonna purposely misinterpret my “goody two shoes” blyke statement ngl#”did you say that blyke is perfect and john is evil”#like something like that
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