#its a hell of a closure like he said

[indimlights]

Petak 15:09 + Details (Pt2) ✨

Ep10, Clip 6, "First"

[storywestistrash]

watched mouthwashing finally. the fact that i saw people be more aggressive towards curly than jimmy is kinda strange. kinda real weird

[scarletiswailing347]

just finished reading delilah's statement, there was a lot of things in it that was either only tangentially related to the allegations or straight up unnecessary to put (in particular: putting in media references and cc metrics several times as flavor text, detailing the don turnt situation with no claims of whether or not permission was granted by the affected party, namedropping certain ccs who had nothing to do with the allegations, and putting the tweet and yearbook photo of one of the ppl who put forward that zam was a bully with no claims of whether or not permission was granted) which contributed a lot to the 47-page length

honestly so far what im getting is that there was a Lot of toxicity on multiple sides like not even just between zam and delilah

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part II

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, angst angst angst, mention of past trauma, expletives, pregnancy, contractions, heavily described labour, blood, mild physical violence, reader is really going through it, ralak is too but he'll be alright i promise, brother!neteyam makes a star appearance, cute family fluff, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 6.5k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hope you're enjoying your tour in angst town...we're almost finished. You could say we're nearing the final attraction, so continue to keep your seatbelts buckled. lol why am i like this? anyways... please don't hate me for this chapter, and i will try my best to get the next one out quicker so you guys can get some closure lool :)

Synopsis: You didn't plan for things to turn out this way. But no amount of denial can make reality go away...

<- Previous -> Next

And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.  His karyu.

Time chips by at a torturous pace. You spend the first hour sitting on the beach, eating some fruit whilst watching what your brothers get up to. Neteyam, of course, is bearing most of the responsibility whilst Lo’ak and Tuk are taking a more easy approach to the day. Mom and dad made sure to leave them with a list of things to get done whilst they’re away—number one being to keep an eye on their sisters. 

Number one, check. 

All that floods your mind is your mate and if he’s okay. You try to process everything he’s said but it’s all too much to wrap your head around. All too new. Your brothers aren’t much help either, as they claim to be ‘out the loop’ as much as you are. You know it's bullshit, and probably just another thing that they’ve been ordered to keep from you so as not to ‘stress you out’. 

Regardless, it’s all you can think about. 

Until you feel your son do a flip in your womb, big enough to make you gasp. Your hands immediately fly to your belly, feeling around to gauge his position. A pressure begins to grow against your bladder. One so intense it presses into your tailbone too. The pads of your fingers sink into the skin, tapping around as you make out a leg, then a knee. A hand to the left. 

Is he…head down? You think to yourself. 

“Everything alright?” Neteyam asks, concern wrinkling his forehead.�� 

“Hm?” You look up, seeing the outline of his silhouette in front of the sun. 

“You okay? You’re…you look a little—”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. He’s moving a lot today.” You smile, catching Tuk excitedly running over in the corner of your eye. 

“Really? Can I feel? Please?” She squeals excitedly, falling to her knees in the sand next to you. 

“Of course, Tuk.” You smile, and place her hand on top of your stomach, right where his foot is. Only a few seconds pass by until your son gives Tuk a strong kick, making her mouth open with glee. 

“Wow! Tey, you gotta feel this!” Tuk exclaims, tugging your brother by the hand so he’s next to you too. Neteyam looks at you, unsure if you’re okay with it. You nod with a gentle smile, tugging his hand over to the other side of your stomach. His hand hovers as he hesitates for a moment, this is his first time feeling his nephew move. He gives you a final look, and gently rests his hand on your belly

A few moments pass and nothing. 

“Aww, he stopped moving.” Tuk sighs with a pout. 

“Patience, Tuk.” You whisper, feeling him kick on cue. Her face lights up with a beaming smile and Neteyam seems to be in awe with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. 

“Woah, y/n. Your tummy’s getting hard.” Tuk says innocently, looking at her brother to see if he feels it too. 

“Hm?” You hum, feeling a bit spaced out and achy.   

“It is.” Neteyam lets go and keeps his hands to himself, feeling like he’s invading your personal space. A heat floods your back, and you feel your thighs spasm. You begin to groan, holding your breath until the strange feeling subsides. “Hey. You okay?” 

You nod, finally release your breath, and hear Tuk’s excited voice. “It’s all soft now!” 

“All good.” You smile, but Neteyam doesn’t seem convinced at all. “Ronal says they are normal. They aren’t the real thing. Mom had them with Tuk, remember?” 

Neteyams' features soften as he nods, prying his little sister's hands off of you. “Ease up now, Tuk.” 

“Sorry, sis.” She says quietly, ears laying flat to her head. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” You say as you roll to your side to get up, shamelessly using Neteyam to gain some momentum. “Think it’s time for me to take a walk, though.” 

“Yes, sure. Where are we going?” Neteyam asks, ready to accompany you anywhere.

“I’m going down to the rocks.” You emphasise on the first word, making it clear you need some alone time after being babysat all day. “I think Lo’ak needs some help with the net.”

Neteyam and Tuk look over to see their brother struggling with a tangled fishing net, and turn back to see that you’re already waddling down the beach. 

——

Suddenly, Ralak’s back inside of his family marui pod on his iknimaya night. Trapped. Small. Powerless. Cornered by a person he once looked up to. A person he trusted. Manipulated by her heat— her pheromones. A crime punishable by banishment. Forced to give, forced to receive. A betrayal he’ll never forget. A face he swore to himself that he would never see again. 

No wonder they ‘demanded’ his presence.

Tonowari and Ronal lose their colour when their eyes land on her. It’s been so many years. They quickly look over to Ralak, who is seemingly falling to pieces where he stands. The expression on his face is no short of pure shock and… terror. Truthfully, the last time they’d seen such an expression on his face was the deaths of his parents and spirit brother. Jake and Neytiri aren’t aware of what’s going on, but they know it must be serious for Ralak to be so…expressive. 

They can even see his shoulders heave from how hard he’s breathing, and how his face of terror quickly morphs into something of fury. Tonowari notices the way he tightens his grip on his weapon, and his eyes as they gloss over red with rage. It takes a lot to make this man blind with anger. Tonowari knows if he doesn't step in now that this could turn sour in the blink of an eye. 

——

Two.

Releasing a shaky exhale, you begin your walk back to your siblings. That was the second ‘practice’ contraction you’ve had since starting your walk, and your third since coming here with your brothers. Your waddle is becoming more sluggish with each step and the fire in your back is beginning to burn hotter rather than fade out. 

“Not now, little one.” You whisper as you caress your bump. “…please.” 

Weariness sets in as you make it halfway back, making you perch on your knees to take a break. The fire spreads from your back to your thighs, and up your stomach. You brace yourself for the tight feeling, holding your breath in the base of your chest. You grumble a little, swaying side to side until it passes, which thankfully doesn’t take more than a few seconds. 

Three.

Finally making it back to the beach, you see Neteyam and Lo’ak hauling a few sacks on their backs, with Tuk skipping behind them. You overhear Lo’ak trying to convince Neteyam to let him be with the other warriors, and Neteyam reminding him of your parents orders. They stop mid sentence when they hear your heavy, muffled footsteps, taking one look at you and knowing that something isn’t right. Lo’ak in particular, to your surprise. 

“Damn. You look exhausted.” Lo’ak says, earning a jab in the rib by Neteyams elbow. “What? She looks like she’s about to pass out.” 

“You can’t say that to a pregnant woman, skxawng [idiot].” Neteyam hisses.

“It’s fine. He’s not wrong.” You say, tail dragging low and heavy behind you. Ralak still clouds your mind, and you’re eager to know if he’s back yet. “I want to go home now. I really need to lie down.” 

Neteyam just nods, understanding that something deeper is going on. “I will take you.” 

“I got it, bro.” Lo’ak interjects, plunking the sack off his back and onto the ground.  

“Stay with Tuk.” Neteyam orders, clicking for his skimwing. 

“Why don’t you stay with Tuk?” Lo’ak snaps back. 

“Guys. Please?” You sigh, waddling towards the winged beast, throwing a leg over its tough back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Come ‘teyam.” Neteyam smirks, making the bond with the beast and mounting it in one swift move. 

As you arrive at your marui, you see Zu’té at the outside fire pit, concentrating on not burning yet another type of meat-on-a-stick. Hearing your arrival, Zu’té turns and acknowledges your presence. He puts down the sizzling meat on a leaf, allowing the fire to continue to burn as he begins to make his way over to collect you. Neteyam and him exchange glances and silent greetings, and suddenly the air is thick. 

“Right…I’m going up. Thank you, tey. See you.” You say out of breath, giving him a quick hug.

“Let me—” Neteyam begins.

“No, I’m okay.” You cut off your brother, hualing yourself off the tsurak. 

“Right. Kìyevame [see you again soon]. If you need me, send your watchdog.” He speaks clearly, holding you by the wrist to steady you as you get off. 

“I will, tey.” You chuckle lightly and make your way to the marui. Neteyam waits patiently, making sure you get in safely. 

Zu’té is only half way there when you reach the bottom step, already offering his arm for the stairs. You sigh and shake your head, hurriedly climbing the stairs as fast as your swollen ankles will allow it. For some reason, his gesture really annoys you. Your mood is off and you feel queasy and achy—like your entire body is throbbing. 

All you want is for everyone around you to stop babying you, and let you be alone for the rest of the day. 

“I got it.” Your voice strains as you wobble ahead, leaving Zu’té and your brother behind. Neteyam remains silent for some time, locking eyes with Zu’té. 

‘Keep a close eye.’ Neteyam signs with disquiet wrinkling his forehead. Zu’té gives him a puzzled look at first, but slowly nods when he successfully deciphers the message. Neteyam nods as well and dives underwater. 

By the time Zu’té gets to the bottom step, you’re already at the top, clutching onto the railing as you lean forward in pain. You couldn’t even make it into the pod without another hitting you so soon. You take a few deep breaths rather than holding it in, waiting until the tight feeling subsides. 

Four.

Zu’té darts up the stairs to your side, offering a hand in support only to be swatted away. “What is it?”

“It is nothing.” You catch your breath and insist that it was nothing—because it was nothing, right?

His brows furrow in disbelief, a look of concern washing over his face. Zu’té allows his eyes to fall to your bulging, veiny belly for the first time, taking in the sight. “You were in pain.”

“I’m fine.” You’re short with him, stony eyes staring into his.

“Someone once told me no good comes from pretending that things don’t hurt.” 

“Well nothing’s happening until my husband is back. Okay?” You try to remain nonchalant, to believe your own words. 

He simply stares down at you for a bit, analysing your facial expression. Despite your stone cold facade, he can easily  see the fear etched into your features. Fear that this baby may come before Ralaks return and that if you allow yourself to accept reality, then it may really come true. He glances down at your hand still stuck to the side of your stomach and swallows, looking back up to you. 

“Understood.” 

“Right. Now...” You huff, contemplating if you should say what you want to say. You feel like telling him to back off—to give you some space. But he’s obviously just making sure you’re okay. “...I need to lie down. Just, keep an eye out for—” 

“My brother? Sure. Rest well.” 

——

“Ay’ana.” 

The Olo’eyktan lets out a lengthy growl, earning a look from the traitor herself. 

“Waari.” She sings with a grin, shifting her leer to his mate behind him. “Ronal.” Her eyes fall to her swollen belly, “You are expecting…again.” 

It wasn’t a, ‘congratulations’ either, no. But rather a ‘I see that you are the most vulnerable.’

Ronal scowls, hissing through her teeth. Tonowari steps in front of his mate, blocking her from Ay’ana’s view. 

It was one thing to commit kawngkem [a crime; evil deed] and be banished for it, but it’s another to seek uturu with the enemy. She is no longer considered to be among the ‘banished’, but is now the ‘enemy’. 

Ay’ana looks behind Tonowari, not at Ronal, but at the two deeper skinned, slender na’vis. She scoffs, the corner of her mouth pulling into an evil smirk, revealing her sharpened teeth. Tonowaris eyes widen when he sees that she’s completely adapted to this vile peoples’ ways by putting a file to her teeth. Her eyes flick past them to the last person, the most important. 

“Ralak.” She slowly moans his name as she peers up at him with sultry eyes, allowing her tongue to glaze over her canines. “Such a pleasure.” Ralak winces, chest heaving violently as it fills with repulsion and loathing. “Ah. I remember you being quiet, but not this quiet. Nothing to say to your karyu?”

——

A couple hours have passed and the pain is enough to disrupt your rest. The sunlight dulls with each passing minute, casting a familiar orange hue into the marui. It comes in waves, rippling through you like a bolt of lightning striking the tallest tree in the forest. Making it hard to tell yourself that things are okay—making it hard to keep things quiet. 

“Agh!” You groan suddenly, feeling another jolt of electricity shoot up your spine. It stops you in your tracks, the tracks you’ve been burning into the floor with your constant, nervous pacing. You quiet down into a whisper, “...please wait for your sempu [daddy], my child.” 

“You—uhm.” You hear Zu’té clear his throat at the door, projecting his voice so that you can hear him through the curtain, “You alright in there?”

“Mmn—yes! Fine.” You grate out, making your way back to the bed to lie down. Your feet are so sore.

“Hungry?” He asks, food in hand in the case you were. 

“‘m not.” You try to speak up, but you’re still in the height of the contraction. 

He grits his teeth, leaning into the frame of the marui door. “I didn’t burn it this time.” 

You wish you could laugh, but you can’t even muster up the strength to raise your voice.

Zu’té lingers at the door quietly, knowing plain as day that you weren’t okay. “...what about water?” 

“No...I’ve got.” You say at a normal volume, finally released from the constraints of your pain. 

You begin closing your eyes in hopes that sleep may find you, even if it's just for a few minutes. Zu’té remains at the door for a moment longer, feeling so helpless and useless. He sinks back to the floor, putting down the meat and picking up a new, special piece to weave. 

Weaving passed the time, distracting him from the tiny sounds that managed to escape your mouth. 

Until night fell, and those tiny sounds morphed into deep, lengthy groans and high pitched wails. 

——

“Let us begin.” Tonowari speaks over Ay’ana, averting all attention back to their leader, another female that goes by the name of ‘Varang’. 

She’s almost grey in colour, embellished with a red headpiece that resembles something of an ikrans wings. Her eyes narrow as she looks straight at Tonowari, standing close to his height. 

“Let us.” She hisses with a smile, leading Tonowari to a smaller, private room sectioned by a leather curtain. She motions to Ay’ana to accompany her, leaving the rest of her men to stay with the others. Tonowari lets out a soft grunt, and grits his teeth. He knows he must choose, but his mate is heavy with child and Jake has no interest in leaving his mate in such a place alone. Therefore, he must choose his right hand—Ralak. He motions with a quick tilt of his head, prompting Ralak to clutch his weapon close to his chest and follow closely behind. 

——

“Y/n.” Zu’té’s at the curtain again, half considering to pull it back and come in on his own terms. But he would never invade your privacy like that. And by the sounds of it, things are picking up. “Do you need the healer?”

“No!” You shout out of breath, wobbling to the door with a hand clutching your stomach. You lean all your weight against the wall, knowing he’s on the other side waiting. “No healer.” 

You’re drenched in sweat, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He hears your back slide against the surface, and he mirrors your movements, sitting on the floor too. Only a wall sits between your backs, separating you two. 

“You’re in labour.” Zu’té speaks, his poor attempt at urging you to face reality.

You know that. Of course you know that. But you don’t want it to be true—you didn’t expect it to happen this way—you didnt want it to happen this way. You take a few deep breaths, concentrating on breathing through the remainder of this horrible feeling. And when it’s finally over, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes—leaving silence to fill the air. 

Where are you, Ralak? 

——

The room is much smaller than the one they were in, equipped with some sort of table or workbench with a few spears and bows mounted on the wall. Ralak stands quietly behind Tonowari, as does Ay’ana to Varang. 

As they negotiate the terms of the treaty, Ay’ana keeps her eyes locked onto Ralak with a smug look on her face. Her hungry eyes wander, shamelessly taking in every inch of the man before her, surprised by how much he has changed. He’s much bigger, more filled out in his warrior attire. His muscles—more defined, thicker. His skin—calloused and scarred. Inked, unlike before.

And as her eyes trail down the line between his abs they lay upon the six stripes that peak out over the band of his loincloth. Her eyes widen and glisten with greed before darting back up to his face, meeting his eyes that bore into her fearlessly. 

What’s worse is that she can see that his mind is elsewhere. 

That his mind runs on you. You’re all he’s been thinking about since he stepped off the reef. He feels deep in his heart that something isn’t right back home. That you need him. That perhaps, you’re calling for him right now, swollen and heavy with his child. 

And it bothers her. 

“It is decided, then.” Tonowari speaks in a confident tone.

“Yes, it is.” Varang’s smile is uncanny as she unsheaths a small, double edged knife from her hip. 

She grabs Tonowari by the hand, placing the blade in the middle of his palm, and closes his fingers around it. She rips it from his hand, drawing blood, and then hands Tonowari the knife and gives him her hand. He returns the unsettling act, slitting her palm. She keeps a smile on her face, locking hands with him until their blood combines and drips to their feet. 

Supposedly, it is a method of establishing some level of trust between the two. Where each has the ability to do much greater harm, but makes the deliberate choice not to. Then, when blood has been drawn, it is mixed by bringing the hands together, sealing the treaty. 

“Bound by blood.” Varang whispers, letting go of his hand to bring hers to her mouth for a taste. 

She sighs and smiles, popping a thumb in her mouth before gesturing to him that they leave. Tonowari fights the flinch on his face, disturbed by her behaviour. Ay’ana stays back, watching the two leaders exit the room. But as Ralak is about to leave behind Tonowari, Ay’ana calls for him. 

——

Another couple agonising hours pass, and you’re constantly changing positions in hopes of finding some relief. Desperation sets in, making you beg the great mother herself to guide you through this. To bring your mate back home. But there’s still no sign of his return. The night dew settles on all the surfaces around you. Pacing no longer helps, leaving you to take refuge in your bed, panting and shivering. 

No matter how much you twist and turn, your stomach only tightens more. Deep groans rip past your lips to cope with the feeling—the pain shooting through your core. Beads of sweat roll off your body at an alarming rate, soaking the sheets on your bed. You feel him move further down, his head now sitting plush in your pelvis, creating an immense pressure that’s almost unbearable. His feet press into your ribs, and with each strained breath you begin to yearn for your mate more and more. For his comforting touch. For the bond.  

“Ralak…” 

——

“Ralak.” She sings, making him stop dead in his tracks. “A word.” 

His ears tuck back and he looks at Tonowari, who gives him a begrudged nod. Ralak sighs and turns around, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face. He remains silent, his hand practically bonded to his spear. 

“Still tight lipped, hm? Come now, tak. That is no way to treat your karyu.” She speaks in a condescending tone, approaching him warily. 

Ralak nearly takes the bait, a heat growing in his chest so hot it makes his jaw tense. How dare she call herself that? To taint such a word? He swallows, taking a single, deep breath to recenter himself as he looks away from her. 

“I have to admit.” She steps towards him, the crown of her head meeting the bow of his shoulder. “You have grown into a fine man. You are taller than me now.”  

Ralak just looks down at her, still as stone, his mind consumed with the fact that he could be on his way home to you but this…vile creature is keeping him away. But he will do what he needs to keep you safe, even if it means to tolerate this for the time being. 

With no reaction, Ay’ana grows frustrated and begins circling him, a single finger tracing around his body. 

“You know…My body still yearns for you.” She speaks with a sultry voice, stopping at his side and bringing herself to the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear, “...especially when I’m in heat.”

For a second, Ralak succumbs to her tactics, the ones she used to use on him years ago. A memory, forcibly resurfaced, reminding him of the way she whispered in his ear on that night. It makes him feel so small. Impotent. But only for a second. Ralak recoils, stepping back to create distance between them. He towers over her, dwarfing this small, lanky woman, regaining his confidence and power. 

“Is that all?” He growls, looking her dead in the eye—facing his past with no fear. 

Facing the reason why he lived in a bottle before he met you. You. You. He can feel you. He can feel you yearn for him and he’s ready to come home to you. For this to be over. 

He’s too focused on you to even notice Ay’ana’s face of shock. Shock to know that she’s been releasing her pheromones this entire time and he’s been completely oblivious to them. Which only means one thing. 

“You’re mated.” She gasps. 

And he’s back. 

Staring at a mirror now that he is, too, in a state of shock. Ralak’s heart leaps out his chest, beating so hard that Ay’ana can hear it. How could she know that? He watches as a grin spreads across her face, ear to ear. She knows she’s got him now, despite the jealousy bubbling inside her. She could use this to her advantage—it didn’t matter to her that he’s called for, after all. 

“Using tsaheylu for such useless things.” She bellows a wicked laugh, which fades out when she sees an even more serious look on his face. A look that tells her he’s trying to mask something more, something deeper. “Oh? Is there more to it?” The twitch of his brows and quick flare to his nostrils reveals the truth. “I have to know. What is it, hm?” She nears him once more, two fingers walking up his chest. “Come now, you were never this hard to read.” 

Ralak remains silent, focusing on slowing his heart rate. 

“Is she ill?” She asks as she searches his eyes, fingers grazing across his quivering jawbone. “No, no. It’s not that.” She sighs, stepping closer and closer until his back hits the wall. He moves his head away from her touch, still looking her in the eye—refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Her eyes light up and her ears stand tall.

“She carries your child, doesn’t she?” Her eyes gloss over green with envy. “Pregnant.”

Ralak swallows his spit, the lump in the column of his throat quickly undulating. 

“There it is. I knew you would make strong babies.” Her hand slips down his chest, slithering over his abs and down to the twine of his loincloth, causing him to jolt. “Ralak.” She moans his name slowly, “Oh, Ralak. The last I see of you, you were barely covered in this vile ink with no one at your side…and now you are mated and a father to be.” Her fingers tickle the raised skin on his most intimate tattoo. “I have always longed to be bred by you.” Her fingers attempt to burrow themselves under the band of his loincloth.

“Enough.” He lets out a deep growl, shoving her away, dropping his weapon in doing so. She loses and quickly regains her balance in a few seconds, throwing herself on him. He grabs her by the wrists, restraining her with ease so that she can’t come any closer to him. 

“Perhaps we need to renegotiate the terms so that you are a part of them, yes?” Her voice is full of desperation, trembling as she strains against him. “How does that sound numeyu? You know we have a population problem, right? We could all use you.”

“I have no interest in being your stud.” Ralak spits, forcefully shoving her away, causing her to stumble back and for her head to hit the table. 

He moves quickly, picking up his spear off the ground and heading for the door. She lunges at him, dagger unsheathed from her hip and armed in her hand, whilst her other arm snakes around his throat to pull him onto the ground. 

During the struggle, Ralak drags her off his back, resulting in a nasty gash from his collarbone and down his shoulder blade. He hisses from the burn, instantly assuming an offensive stance to plunge his spear through. Ay’ana returns the hiss, crouching with her bloodied dagger ready to strike.  

“I will kill you.” Ralak threatens, nearing the pointed tip closer and closer to her chest. “And I will take great joy in doing so.”  

“Is that right?” Ay’ana hisses, tail wagging in excitement with unsettling smile spread across her face. She looks as if she’s toying with him. As if she’s playing a game and she’s winning. “Let me have a taste of you.” 

“Nìtam! [Enough!]” Tonowari roars as he yanks back the curtain, instantly averting Ay’ana’s attention to him. Perhaps it was her roots calling her to respond to her true leader. Varang appears beside him with a scowl stained on her face, displeased with her subordinate. One more move and the treaty would’ve already been broken. 

“Easy, Tak.” Tonowari murmurs, and Ralak relaxes into position next to him, blood trickling down his chest and back. 

“Come with me.” Varang snarls at Ay’ana, seizing her by the queue.

“Night has fallen. We will take our leave.” Tonowari speaks roughly, trying his hardest to contain his anger as he rests a careful hand resting on Ralak—leading him out the room.

“In another ten years, Olo’eyktan.”

Tonowari grunts as he and the rest push past the swarming ash people. As soon as they’re far enough, he stops Ralak and has Ronal safely look at his wound. It’s weeping and open, prone to a nasty infection if not dressed immediately. She unclasps her medicine pouch from her hip, and retrieves a small bottle of iridescent liquid, a viscous concoction of herbs, and a needle and thread.

“Come, son.” Tonowari speaks softly, ripping the cork from the small bottle with his back teeth and spitting it on the ground. “That vonvä’.”

Ralak sits on the nearest rock, elbows propped on his knees and head hung low to hide his face. Jake and Neytiri observe in silence, cringing as Tonowari douses the gash with the liquid as Ronal prepares the needle and thread. 

Ralak groans, biting down tooth on tooth. 

Tonowari leaves a little left in the bottle, offering it to Ralak who is visibly trying to keep it together. He plucks the bottle from Tonowari’s hand and knocks it back, puffing out a sigh. 

“Keep still.” Ronal orders, driving the wooden needle through his skin. 

Ralak grumbles, letting his head hang between his knees and his hair fall forward. At this point Neytiri looks away, but Jake can’t. His eyes are plastered to the scene unfolding before him as he recognizes his son-in-law’s strength and perseverance. 

“That should hold until we are back.” She declares, gathering her supplies and stuffing them back into her pouch. 

“Irayo [thank you], Ronal.”

“You’re strong, boy.” Jake mumbles, patting Ralaks back as he gets up. “Anyone care to explain what the hell happened back there?” 

Ralak just shakes his head, leaving Tonowari to speak for him. “I will explain on the way back. You all have someone waiting for you.”

Ralak’s ears spring up at the thought of you, giving him a burst of energy to spring to his feet, gather his gear and lead the trek himself. The women walk behind him, concerned about his wound. Tonowari and Jake are left at the back, sharing a look before they begin their journey. 

——

“Fuck. Fuck.” You pant, looking down at your trembling hands that sink into the bed through double vision. You sway from side to side, trying to take steady, deep breaths, but the pressure between your legs is starting to make you panic. The possibility that you may have to do this alone is quickly becoming a reality. 

Zu’té is the one doing the pacing now, unable to sit still in his spot for much longer. He has long abandoned his woven pieces, burning lines into the patio floor as he walks back and forth outside—conflicted on his next move. 

He doesn’t want to go against your wishes and call a healer without you requesting it. But he must keep his word to Ralak—to keep you safe—which means calling for a healer. He chews on the toughened skin on his thumb, listening to your continuous whimpers and whines. By the sounds of it, you’re in active labour now, ready to give birth at any moment. 

——

A few hours have passed since they started the trek back home. Everyone has fallen into new positions that work for them. Ralak, eager to be at his pregnant mate’s side, leads the pack, clearing the path for the others. Jake and Neytiri stay not too far behind him, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Tonowari and Ronal are far at the back, linked together as she trudges on despite her extreme weariness.

“Let us take another break.” Tonowari speaks quietly to his mate, hand on her stomach. They share a look, speaking to one another with their eyes. She doesn’t want to hold up the group much more than she already has. 

“No. We are almost there—ugh!” Ronal lets out a sudden groan, clutching her stomach as she doubles over. 

Everyone stops dead in their tracks, turning around with wide eyes. Tonowari supports her, and carefully walks her over to a nearby fallen log, lowering her down onto it. She takes a few deep breaths as Neytiri and Jake rush over to her. 

“Is it time?” Neytiri asks, crouching down next to her. Ronal nods once, completely in tune with her body and aware of exactly what’s happening.

Which is why she insisted they continue, or else she won’t make it back in time. Ralak watches at a distance, his face contorting with sheer worry. No, borderline distress. He looks almost mortified, but not for the reasons that one may think. They all know why, it's obvious. If Ronal is in labour,

…that means you probably are too.  

“Go ahead.” Ronal pants, beads beginning to form at her temple. 

But Ralak doesn’t move. He can’t move. He’s at conflict with himself. An internal battle of knowing that he should stay and help, even though he really wants to go—needs to go. 

“We got it, son. Go to her.” Jake huffs as he helps Tonowari lift Ronal to carry her. “Go on!” He shouts, prompting Ralak to look to his father figure for approval, to which he meets him with a quick nod before averting his attention back to his labouring mate. And with Neytiri’s soft smile of reassurance, Ralak takes a few steps back before turning his heel and booking it home. 

——

“Haah…holy fuck—holy fuck.” You moan, feeling another contraction start up and the pressure between your legs intensify. 

This one has you on your hands and knees, clutching the bed head so hard your nails dig into the wood. It’s undeniable now. This baby is coming whether you like it or not. And as the contraction reaches its peak, you scream. 

“Zu’té!” It pains you to cry out for his name and not your mates. Hearing your call—your permission to enter—he finally bursts through the door and rushes to your side. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” He’s out of breath and on edge.

“I think—oh god—I think the baby’s coming!” You cry out, swooping your hand between your legs to try and feel what’s happening. 

“Shit. Like now? Like right now?” Zu’té panics as he watches you, hands hovering around you, unsure of what to do. 

“I d-don’t know! I—I don’t—I want Ralak! Fuck, fuck. I want lak!” You cry out in sheer agony. “I want my mate. I-I need him!” 

“Y/n. Eywa.” Desperation is potent in his voice now. 

The fact that you’re calling out for his brother means the time has come and he feels like a fool to have let this get this far without stepping in. He swallows and takes a breath to calm down, just as your contraction ends and leaves you sobbing on your knees. 

“I’m getting the healer.” He says firmly, turning his heel to leave but you grab his wrist before he can walk away. 

“No! Don’t leave…Please don’t leave me alone.” You beg, fear glossing over your eyes until it spills onto your cheeks once more. He looks at you with furrowed brows, lamenting for you. Now he’s really conflicted, because this means…it’s him or no one. 

“Ah, shit. Shit. Uhm.” He rakes his fingers through his scalp, thinking about his next move. He’s seriously considering going regardless, able to see the situation for what it is.

“Please, Zu’té.” You plead weakly, slowly lowering yourself onto your behind and off your knees, leaning back into the bedhead. 

“Okay, okay.” He nods and you let go of his wrist, immediately using your hand to support your stomach. You let your eyes close, they’re swollen and heavy. “Uh–right, right.” 

For some reason he can’t stop repeating himself twice. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping grounded. He heads straight for the bucket of water and rag to bring it over to you. He dips the rag into the water, and wrings it out. You barely open your eyes at the sound of the bucket making contact with the floor, and see that he’s nearing you with a damp cloth and raised brows. He’s waiting for your go ahead. 

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse and trembling. 

Zu’té begins to wipe away the sweat that’s dripping in your eyes, your forehead, neck and chest. Dipping the rag back into the water, he wrings it out once more and wipes down your shoulders and arms. You can’t help but sit there and close your eyes, allowing him to do it all, exhausted.

Feeling something press against your lips, you open your eyes in a daze. Zu’té holds a cup of water to your mouth, and you drink ardently, gasping for air and closing your eyes when it’s emptied. Sleep calls to you, taking you as you barely manage to mutter out a weak, “...thank you.” 

Zu’té calculates another five minutes before your next contraction, giving him enough time to fetch a fresh pail of water—something absolutely necessary for the birth. He leaves you sat up against the bedhead, rag on your forehead as you sleep. But not even three minutes go by before he hears your languid moan. 

Abandoning the bucket, he rushes back into the marui, finding you standing and holding onto the marui stilt with one hand as the other tugs at the strap of your top. Seeing you try to undress has him stopping in his tracks and turning his head to look away. 

“Y/n—”

“Ughhaa—” You grunt, untethering the knot of your top. Your body is trying to get comfortable for the birth of your son now, and these pieces of cloth feel suffocating. “Get out!”

With that, Zu’té turns and retreats back to the patio, hands on his head as he begins to make his plan. If he flew on his skimwing, he could make it to the village and back with a healer in about ten minutes. But would that be enough time? What if you didn’t have ten minutes? Your pained groan turns into a howl and it makes his ears twitch. 

By the sound of that, you might not even have five minutes. 

“Come on, baby brother. Don’t make me do this. Please. Don’t make me go back in there. Oh shit—I’m going to have to go back in there, aren’t I? Eywa. Eywa. Okay—It’s okay. I can do this. Childbirth. It’s just childbirth. Right? Right.” 

Zu’té tries to convince himself that he’s capable of this despite this not being what he signed up for. 

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.”

Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. 

“Brother.”

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / FINAL

previous part

tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of suicide, heavy angst, please be cautious as always! <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

The weight on your shoulders was heavy and exhausting. It caused your body and soul to ache with a crushing feeling of grief. Your conversation with Price played in your mind tenfold, repeating over and over until it drove you to the point of insanity. You feared if you stayed stuck in the loop for a moment longer, your brain might short circuit and you’d succumb to life’s torturous game.

How had things come to this?

Two weeks ago, you should’ve been dead. Two weeks ago, you should’ve denied Ghost’s abrupt deal, you should’ve told him the truth – that you had no intentions of living past that very Friday the two of you planned meticulously to end your life.

Two weeks ago, you should’ve never met Simon.

What was meant to be a task given to you with the purpose of self healing had erupted into an even scarier nightmare. Life would’ve never been so complicated had you denied Simon and stuck to your original plan on desired death. It would’ve never been so complicated had you just done it all yourself instead of pussying out and asking him to finish the job for you.

Now, all that remained was a heart beyond repair, fragments of its shattered pieces being taken away with Simon when he had left.

He had the entirety of your heart, and you didn’t think you’d ever get it back. You couldn’t take it back if you wanted to. It belonged to him, and your heart was loyal to its owner.

All that was left was the, what now? Price had made it clear he couldn’t promise anything. Hell, you wouldn’t blame him if he had just said that in a half-assed attempt of comfort. For all you knew, Simon hadn’t a clue what was going on in the first place, or perhaps he didn’t care. Living without closure of what could’ve been had left you scarred and untrusting, even of the very man you’d fallen in love with.

Love was what always got you into this mess, after all. You couldn’t love yourself, so God was executing punishment by making you unlovable to everyone else. If anything, you should be thanking him for steering you away from more heartache.

Maybe this was how it was meant to be. Simon giving you a taste of what life could be if you had just tried harder, before pulling the candy right out of your mouth before you could protest that you weren’t quite finished with it.

You didn’t reach out to Simon. Even though you were blocked from the moment the two of you had sex and he ran, you didn’t dare try and test out your theory to see if he had undone his action. You weren’t even sure you knew what you could say to him.

While it was clear Price played a dirty hand in creating the drift between the two of you, Simon still allowed himself to be a puppet on Price’s string. It boiled you to the core, filled you with resentful distaste that you couldn’t quite swallow.

It was hard to accept that you hated him almost as much as you loved him.

No matter how angry you were at the world for the hand it was dealing you, you still couldn’t bring yourself to leave it. Not on your own. Even through the hole of emptiness that rattled you to the bone, a spark of hope shone from deep within you, and that was what kept you going. It was the faintest of light, fighting to stay ablaze. No matter how puny and weak it was, it was still there, cheering you on in a gentle voice to keep going.

As much as you didn’t want to listen, you did.

Life’s a bitch and then you die. But maybe if you gave it one final chance at redemption, things may work out in your favor this time. And if they didn’t? The original plan was always in the cards.

Simon left Price in the dust the moment he uttered those words. Go and get your bird back, Simon.

He had never heard something so beautiful, so breathtaking. It was his call back home, and he’d be an absolute tool if he didn’t rush to return to its welcoming arms.

He didn’t care how ridiculous he looked running along the streets in the middle of the night. Hell, he didn’t even bother to put his mask on. Tonight, he was Simon, and he was wearing his identity with pride. Ghost was tucked away in the darkest depths of his mind, caged in and hidden. With you, he didn’t want to be Ghost. He didn’t want to be a man who thrived off of the stolen lives of the innocent in order to pay his bills. He didn’t want to be the broken version of himself that imprisoned his own vulnerability.

He wanted to be the man who could give you a colorful life filled with painted sunsets and warm rays. Only Simon could do that, and he’d throw Ghost away if that was what it took.

The closer Simon got to your apartment, the more the nerves wracked his body with a faint tremor. Would you even speak to him? Forgive him? He knew he didn’t deserve it. Hell, he deserved a cold fist to the jaw and a stab wound to the heart.

The least he could do was try.

He pondered if he should get you something. Flowers, maybe, but when it came down to it, flowers were a pathetic excuse for an apology. No, Simon wanted to do this right. He had spent his entire life partaking in wrongdoings. For once, just once, he wanted to be good.

The sight of your building nearly had him throwing up on the concrete beneath his boots. It turned his stomach in a sickeningly sweet way, coating his tongue with bitter cottonmouth. For the first time since he could remember, Simon was scared. Downright terrified.

While the feeling should be seen in a negative light, he saw it as the complete opposite. It meant he was alive. He was still human. He still harbored emotions that Ghost had so desperately tried to get rid of.

Even after everything, he was still Simon.

His feet grew heavier and heavier with every step he took into your building, up the raggedy stairs, and down the dim hall, just like the routine he had always fallen into when waiting for you to return from work. Things may be different now, and he may be venturing on the same path with a different ending this time, but that didn’t mean he was led astray. Different could mean better, and he could only pray to the very God putting him through hell that his outcome would be brighter than before.

Simon didn’t know how long he stood outside of your door. He willed himself to knock, but he was struggling internally. The truth was, he was scared to see you. Seeing you meant facing the result of his regretful actions, and he wasn’t sure he could handle recognizing you as broken because of him.

He dug this grave, he wallowed in it, and now it was time to crawl his way out and make things right.

His fist shook as he raised it to knock on the door. Knuckles collided with the old wood, echoing sharply in his ears. Anxiety crept into his bones, leaving him in an uncomfortable suffocation. He felt as if he wouldn’t be able to breathe until you were in front of him. The room felt small, it was closing in on him. He wondered if this was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve just left you alone, maybe he should’ve kept you out of his mess–

“Simon?”

The air that was tightening in his lungs exhaled in a slow, trembling breath, shoulders going slack from their tightly wound stiffness. Your voice was his oxygen, and he could finally breathe again.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, and God, did it feel jubilating to say that name again.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, and the bitterness in your tone was clear. It sunk into him like a thousand knives, coursing him with relentless pain.

“I need to fix this,” he gasped out. “Please, sweetheart, let me fix this. I know I fucked up, alright? I fucked up bad.”

You stared at him in disdain, but Simon could see the glimmer of a burning ache in your eyes that matched his own. You missed him just as much as he missed you, but your hurt overruled everything else. He didn’t blame you one bit.

“You left me after you had sex with me, Simon,” you spat with dripping fire that scorched him with every word. “You left me after everything. You expect me to just let you come here and tell me you fucked up, as if I didn’t know that?”

Simon could feel his resolve slipping away. He wanted to panic, to spit out useless apologies until one of them worked and you caved, but that wasn’t how this was going to go. Simon would have to work for it, and he’d be damned if he let you slip away. He’d spend the rest of his life working for it if it meant having you in the end.

“Sweetheart–”

“Fucking– I’m not doing this in my doorway. Just… just come inside,” you sighed out, utterly defeated. You didn’t have to tell Simon twice. He stepped into your apartment cautiously, letting you know that you were in complete control. You were in charge, and Simon was here to take the beatdown, no matter how painful it may be.

Upon entering, your apartment was in havoc. It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t disgusting or revolting, but it was clear you spent most of your days cooped up in your room. Simon felt guilt eat away at him from the mere sight alone.

“Tell me how I can fix this,” Simon pleaded. Everything about his body language was desperate, distressed. His hands spoke for him, moving animatedly, unable to control himself. He was begging. For the first time in his life, he was begging.

“I’m not telling you how to fix anything, Simon. You’re the one supposed to fix it on your own. I’m not going to do it for you,” you explained in eerie calmness, but it was unmistakingly exhaustion. He couldn’t imagine how much he had put you through.

He knew you were right. This was Simon’s responsibility, and begging you for the cure would be easy on him and harder for you. He couldn’t allow that to happen. You’d already been burdened enough.

Simon stared at you, eyes glossed over, eyebrows pulled together from his stir of emotions. The way you stared back was empty, and it broke his heart that he was the reason for the light going out so soon after gaining it back.

He contemplated what to do. There were many ways this could go sideways, and he couldn’t risk that. He had to pick what was right in his heart, even if it meant shoving away the pride he’d grown accustomed to over the years of being alone and hollow.

Simon slowly got down on his knees, hands clasped in his lap, and he gazed up at you in woe. He was baring himself to you completely, stripping himself of all defenses, and succumbing to vulnerability. Never had Simon gotten on his knees for another person. His ego was too large, and he refused to let himself express weakness.

For you, he’d hang himself dry.

“What are you–”

“Please, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice soft yet broken, brimming with anguish. “I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. Nothin’ I say will make it better. I can’t change it, no matter how much I wish I could. I fucked up, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness for leavin’ you the way I did, for hurtin’ you like everybody else has done. I gave you an empty promise, and even then, I broke it.”

You were speechless from where you stood, peering down at this burly man on his knees for you. Your eyes never strayed away from his, and you recognized the familiar spark of despair in them. They looked just like yours every time you looked in the reflection. He was a mirror of you, just as you were a mirror of him.

“I was scared of losin’ you because of my job. I didn’t think a sweet thing like you deserved to be involved with a man like me. I didn’t want you hurt,” he explained, and the faintest crack in his voice showed you just how hard this was for him as well. You weren’t the only one suffering the consequences.

“Yet you hurt me anyway,” you whispered brokenly, and Simon deflated.

“I know,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I know, sweetheart. I let my fear control me, and it caused me to make things worse. It wasn’t fair t’you. I fucked up, and I’m so sorry.”

Your own resolve was faltering. You wanted so badly to be angry, to kick him out and be done with him. Strip him from your life and return to your days of wallowing in loneliness and misery.

You couldn’t. Every word was like a small bandaid over a too-big wound, but it was an attempt. He was trying. Nobody had ever tried with you before.

“Y’know,” you began, voice as soft as a whisper. “One of your boys came by to see me. Price.”

Simon blinked, surprise morphing on to his face. He swallowed anxiously, fists squeezing in his lap before he forced them to relax.

“And?”

You stared at him for a moment, shifting through your words in your mind.

“He tried to get me to cut you off. Tell you that I was better off, that I didn’t want you around anymore. He thought it would be best,” you finished quietly, shifting your eyes away from him in a moment of guilt. You weren’t sure why you were feeling it, but you’d recognize that uncomfortable lump in your throat anywhere. “I told him no.”

Simon’s eyebrows raised, eyes darting over your face to read your expression. “You did?”

“Yeah,” you confessed, shifting uncomfortably. “Told him… told him you didn’t deserve that.”

His heart ached painfully in his chest. What a lovely woman you were, defending him even after he had wronged you. How stupid he was for letting his own past misfortunes creep into the present.

He should be mad at Price for invading in on his personal business, but if he didn’t, Simon might not be here right now, kneeling before you and pleading for forgiveness. Price gave him an in, he gave him a chance, even if he went behind his back to do so.

Go and get your bird back, Simon.

It made sense now. Simon nearly laughed in bitter humor.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, finally gaining your gaze back. Your eyes had softened from their hardened walls you built back up again, and he prayed he had a chance. “I know it’s not goin’ to fix anythin’. You’re still angry with me, and you have every right t’be. But if you still decide to throw me out, to never speak t’me again, then I want you t’know that I love you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, chest pulling tight. A mixture of pain and relief coursed through your veins, and you weren’t sure which emotion to listen to. You weren’t sure what was right, but there was one thing you were sure of, and it was that you loved him, too. Heartbreakingly so.

“You do?” you whispered in uncertainty.

Simon rose from his kneeled position, taking a cautious step towards you. When you didn’t back away, he seized the opportunity to cradle your hands in his, holding them to his heart. “I do,” he repeated softly. “I’m not good at this, sweetheart. I’ve done a lot of terrible things. I’ve hurt people, I’ve killed people, yet loving somebody has always been the hardest thing to do. With you, it feels easy.”

You stared up at him, searching for any signs of dishonesty. What stared back at you was pure truth, his eyes flooding with a new light that promised love and confidence.

Taking a deep breath and a leap of faith, you responded, “I love you, too. Even though I should hate you.”

For the first time since seeing him, Simon smiled. It was a boyish smile, one you’d never seen before, and it lit your entire world up. The sun was back out, the flowers were blooming, birds were chirping, and nature was at peace. It tugged on your heartstrings and pulled away all of the hurt that had resided inside.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. It brought you back to the first time the two of you shared a kiss, and the memory was fond. Despite all of the troubles and heartache, Simon was true to his word. Even if the world had failed the two of you, now was the time to change life’s course and rewrite your own future.

“Yes,” you sighed breathlessly.

Simon’s kiss was as familiar as before, but this time, it felt much more intimate. It was burning passion simmered down to tenderness, his hands cradling your face with the utmost care, treating you like frail china. He didn’t push or prod and instead moved with you rather than take control, letting you handle the reins this time.

It was a slow dance rather than a waltz, steady and unceasing.

“We’ll figure this out together, yeah?” he breathed against your lips, and you could feel the curl of his smile. You opened your eyes to peer into his own, unable to contain your own smile.

His lips returned to yours, and you melted into him. All that weight had been lifted so easily. All the rage had dissipated into nothing, being replaced with a warm, glowing light that filled your chest and threatened to burst.

This was all you wanted – to be content. To be happy.

You didn’t want to spend your days, awaiting an early death that would never come, nor did you want to waste it being burdened by the past that haunted you like a demonic spirit. This felt right.

When more and more feeling poured into the kiss, it shifted into something more starved, like two lovers who’d been separated for years. While you were falling into it, Simon was reluctant. Pulling away from you, you had a brief moment of uncertainty before he spoke.

“I don’t want to rush you like I did last time,” he explained gently. “The last thing I want is for you t’feel pressured. I’m not here for only that. M’here to fix this.”

“Simon,” you murmured, a warm smile on your face. “I know you aren’t. I want to do it. Is that okay?”

Simon stared at you for a moment, weighing out his options. While having sex was part of the reason the two of you ended up in this mess, it was the part after that really played a role. This time, things would be different.

“‘Course that’s okay, sweetheart,” he assured, returning your smile.

He was careful in guiding you to your room. While anxiety weighed heavy on his mind in messing things up further, he was determined to ensure that wouldn’t happen. The power was in his hands, and he’d use all of it in order to make you feel the love you deserve to feel.

Peeling off your clothes was a slow task. He took his time, reveling in the warmth of your skin, guiding his hands across every inch of flesh. He was worshiping you, showering you in praise and care. Sweet and reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured affectionately, lips pressing to your cheek, then jaw, then down your neck. You were laid out for him on the bed, looking like a goddess bathed in light. “Don’t know what I did t’deserve you.”

“Simon,” you whispered, feeling tears spring in your eyes. Noticing, he lifted himself up, brushing the pad of his thumb softly over your cheek, swiping away the stray tear. He smiled down at you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

He didn’t leave you waiting, but he certainly didn’t rush either. He worked diligently in stretching you open on his fingers, curling into that familiar spot that had your breath catching and your back arching beautifully. Your moans were spoken sonnets that blessed his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to hear them for the rest of his life.

Simon didn’t stop his notions, working you open until you were a squirming, crying mess, kissing away your tears while drowning in bashfulness at the sight of your pleasure. You deserved to feel good, and he’d die making sure of it.

When he lined himself up with you and slowly pressed his cock inside until he was at the hilt, buried in your moist warmth, he let out a blissful sigh, knocking his forehead against yours. He didn’t tear his eyes off of you, watching every flicker of euphoria that flashed in your eyes when he moved his hips. Unlike last time, his pace was slow yet firm, allowing you to bask in the delicious feeling of his cock pressing against the gummy walls of your cervix with every thrust.

“I love you,” he breathed through a sigh, brushing away a strand of hair that stuck in a sweaty mess to your forehead. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. M’so lucky.”

You whimpered as he showered you in praise, wiggling from under him. The pleasure mixed with brimming love had you close to orgasm, clenching around him in a vice. He panted with you, breath fanning your face, only getting cut off when he’d lean down to kiss you.

It was a wonderful display of intimacy. This wasn’t just sex. He wasn’t ruining you, he wasn’t leaving you broken. He was leaving you overflowing with promises that he had every intention of keeping.

Simon swallowed up your moans with lips pressed to yours, fucking you through your orgasm, whispering sweet encouragements. He filled you, sealing those promises, his spend mixing with yours and bringing the two of you together as one.

Breathless and spent, Simon tangled you in his arms and legs, holding you close to his chest so he could feel your warmth against him. It brought him comfort and security, like a blanket being lovingly placed over him and consuming him in a snug embrace.

It was silent for a long time after, but neither of you minded it. You relished in the feeling of one another, and words weren’t needed.

“You’re not going to leave after I fall asleep, are you?” you whispered, breaking the silence with a brief moment of weakness. Simon shifted his head to look down at you, lifting a hand to cradle your head and card his fingers in your hair.

“No, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. You nodded against him, snuggling closer to him, cheek pressed against his chest.

“You weren’t here to see me make it to two weeks,” you said softly. Though the reminder hurt to hear, you held no resentment in your tone, which gave him a sense of relief.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized with a frown. When you peeked your head up to look at him, his eyes softened. It was like looking at the most beautiful thing crafted on this planet, and he had the absolute honor of calling it his.

“Maybe we can have a do-over,” you suggested, smiling cheekily at him. It enticed a laugh on his end, rumbling from his chest.

“How about instead of puttin’ a deadline on it this time, we keep count of the days that you wake up and accomplish seeing all the tomorrows. Deal?”

Your smile widened, and you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s a deal.”

IT'S OFFICIALLY OVER!!!! I am so sad because I had such an amazing time writing this fic and it will truly always be one of my favorites. so many of you enjoyed it and supported me through it, and I cannot thank you enough for all the love you've given me :,) I sincerely hope this ending is what everybody wanted and more. I love you all <3

[stayinlimbo]

the world is ending (but i'm happy you're here with me)

pairing: lee minho x f!reader genre: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort warnings: one (1) swear, mc is mentioned to have longer hair at one point, slightly unedited, lowercase intended word count: 1.07k note: i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you enjoy it too ♡

there comes a time in every girl’s life where the overwhelming urge to change her physical appearance eclipses all sensible and rational thought. as it turns out, you’re no exception. 

“you’re going to laugh.”

“no i’m not.” 

“you already are,” you deadpan, frowning at minho’s pitiful attempts to repress the growing smile quirking at his lips. your boyfriend has the audacity to chuckle at your words, pushing himself off the couch and gliding towards your stiff figure standing at the entrance of the living room. 

“you can’t blame me, you look so cute and adorable right now,” he defends. an arm snakes around your shoulders and you relax slightly at his touch, wrapping your arms around his middle. “besides, it can’t be that bad—at least, not enough for you to have to hide from me.” 

minho pulls you further into the warmth of his chest, the tender embrace sending a small shiver down your spine. his lips meet the side of your hooded head in a firm kiss, the extra pressure ensuring you would feel the loving gesture. the usual trail of kisses towards your forehead and cheeks is blocked, currently concealed by your (his) hoodie’s drawstrings working overtime to reveal only a small oval of skin. 

the hood’s bunched fabric frames the top of your eyes and lips. you can barely see in front of you until one of minho’s fingers slips into the opening to try and take a peek at what’s covered inside. 

minho is being nice; you look ridiculous.

and it’s your fault really. you should have known you couldn't escape your misfortunes that easily. 

work for the past month has been hell: the road-closure of the usual route you’d take, tacking on an additional fifteen minutes to your commute. the early mornings you have to endure to clock-in on time. the “important” group project your boss delegated around the office. the unpaid overtime for said project. the same petty, passive-aggressive coworkers breathing down your neck and critiquing your every move because you made a mistake once—all casting insurmountable pressure on your already exhausted state. 

you finally snapped when someone callously stole the lunch minho had prepared for you from the breakroom’s fridge. 

you suppose now it was your brain’s attempt to regain some sort of control over the strenuous situation, but the impulse to cut your hair, try a new style, start fresh with your appearance bombarded every thought on the journey home. call it an impulsive thought, an intrusive thought, whatever—you needed to do something.

too bad the hair stylist couldn’t follow directions for shit. 

“minho, i’m serious,” you whine, burying your face further into his chest. suffocating in the arms of the man you love doesn’t sound like such a bad idea right now. “she ruined my hair. how am i supposed to go out in public like this?”

“i can’t tell you if you haven’t even shown me yet. i’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” he muses, chuckling at the vibrations tickling his torso from the muffled groan you release. 

minho starts to sway the two of you back and forth at your silence. the rhythmic movement cradles you in a comforting hold, temporarily soothing your spiraling thoughts. he’s right; you’re going to have to show him at some point. might as well just get it over with now. 

a defeated sigh escapes you. well, here goes nothing.

you step out of minho’s arms and pry the hood off to reveal your botched hair in all its glory. 

uneven bangs, a completely different color than from when you left for work this morning, fall into your face and cover the top of your eyes. you can’t see yourself but judging from minho’s small hiss and surprised, contorted face, it’s not pretty. 

and it’s not like you asked for anything outlandish: a standard cut and a new style of bangs was your definition of revamping your appearance. so when the stylist cut off a majority of your hair, it took everything within you to not immediately burst into tears as the salon’s floor and your lap splayed the once lengthy remains. 

you don’t even know where she got the idea of bleaching your hair. now your wallet and soul are emptier than ever and there is nothing you can do except hope minho doesn’t ask you to turn around because the layers are downright atrocious. 

“so? what do you think?” a wobbly smile makes its way onto your face. “not what you were expecting, right?”

you can’t help the tears welling into your eyes at his silence. he’s just…staring. certainly this can’t be the dealbreaker, right?

 …right?

you’re saved from your inner turmoil when minho moves forward to carefully bring you back into his arms. the tears finally spill down your cheeks and onto his shirt, the comforting scent of minho flooding your senses once again. if you could hide here forever, you would. 

“it’ll grow back.” 

“i know.”

“you still look sexy.” he pinches your side, coaxing a watery laugh from you. his smile is infectious, and you can’t help but tearfully look up at him with one of your own. 

you playfully guide one of his hands towards the back of your damaged hair, leaving it there. “so you’re not breaking up with me over this?” you tease, resting your head back against his chest. you don’t notice the subtle shift in your boyfriend’s gaze until he softly calls your name.   

“i would love you even if you were bald,” he confesses quietly, squeezing you tighter to him.

you can’t help but snort into his chest. “yeah?” 

“yeah. i will love you now until it’s long again. i will love you with any hair cut, color, style, anything. even if you hate it or one day regret it, my love for you won’t change,” minho assures, his sincerity echoing in his words.

“so if i dyed my hair pink tomorrow, you’d be okay with it?”

“do what you want, whenever you want.” 

because it doesn’t matter to him what you do with your hair. you’re still you, his beautiful and resilient (and sexy) girlfriend. even as his hands run through the chopped, disproportionate strands on the back of your head, he finds you more and more enchanting with each passing day.

“i will be here for you. always.” 

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺

(“i still have to go to work.” 

“just wear a hat.”)

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

[ikealoki]

old order headshots + headcanons because hell yeah

i dont really have a hc for soren but the idea od him being missing is so interesting. its confirmed that ivor (and harper?) were on a mission to find him but obviously havent. the easiest answer is he went back to the end, but thats obvious meaning he/they probably looked there and he clearly isnt since they havent found him. so where the hell is he? theres no chance that hes in the portal network because of jesse being in posession of the flint and steel and hed have to way to get around without it, but considering hes a master builder and knew where ivors lab and enchantments are maybe he made his own?? i dunno. but its interesting. i wish that if there ever is a season 3 (highly doubt) we’ll get some closure on him. the only reason he wasnt in s2 is because the team said they wanted new characters, but considering how sparse soren was i feel like it couldve worked. but like i said i really want to know where he actually went and how his books got everywhere, its a fun concept.

gabriel!!! i dont know why he doesnt get more love hes amazing. but id like to think he lives near beacon town, not near enough to know about the admin shit but near enough to where jesse could get to him if hes needed without it being a whole ass journey. i think hed like to be more involved but feels too much guilt about the old order’s actions and feels like a fraud despite the fact that he is actually capable.

ellie my beloved. i understand any and all soregaard shipping but i like to think of them as having a sibling dynamic, like ellegaard has the older sister role whos exhausted by his “quirks” but will defend him with her life if anyone was judgemental. nerd club!!! also i feel like theres like a really intricate baroque style painting of her somewhere, maybe soren made it and its tucked away somewhere in his base. i know thats oddly specific. but it just feels right.

magnus!! (this is the one im most proud of)

i dont have many thoughts about him but i think hes bald on purpose. like his hair is too much of a fire hazard and his paranoia drives him to shave it off, even though he has his stupid ass fishbowl helmet its his way of staying on guard.

ivor!! this one isnt actually done because the filed corrupted while i eas working on it :( so i just did final editing on a separate application after screenshotting what i could

but as for hcs id like to think if he ever did/does find soren that hed encourage his work with endermen after learning what he was really doing. maybe making enchantments or potions to help him work among the endermen more freely or things like that. id ljke to imagine thered be an instance where jesse would have to go to the end for something and among the end cities theres a little cottage style structure and ivor and soren are just in there sharing their recent adventures over tea or slow dancing to one of sorens records. theyre in love JUST TRUST ME PLEA

and thats it! if u want to use any for anything feel free jusg credit meeee @ ikealoki 🗿

[idontknowwhatimdoing-13]

The saddest thing is that when Charles finally figures it all out and tell Edwin he loves him its going to absolutely break Edwins heart, more than him saying he wasn't in love with him ever did.

Here’s the thing, its Edwin, he's logical. He likes Charles that way, he told Charles, Charles said he didn't like him that way, he's glad it didn't seem to hurt their friendship, end of story. Its not like he can stop loving Charles like that, or that he will ever stop feeling that way, but he can begin to move on now that he has some closure to his feelings. He would never consider that Charles would believe he didn't feel that way about him even though he did, or expect those feelings to change in the future. Its just not how things worked out and he is working to be okay with that.

He also would never pick up on any indicators that Charles might like him at all that way. Again it's Edwin, he spent 30 years not communicating well with his best friend because whenever Charles would say he was happy or okay Edwin would just believe him with no question. Why would Charles actually mean they have to figure out what things mean when he already said he didn't love him that way? Why would him shutting down Edwins question about confusion and immediately change the subject mean anything beside exactly what Charles said? Edwin himself is just relieved that their friendship seems to be intact. And why would Charles ever be flirting with him in any way when it could just be friendly teasing when Charles has already established that they're only friends? He has always trusted what was said, especially when it came to him and Charles. Charles is happy all the time because “that's just how Charles is”, because Edwin has never had reason to doubt that that's how Charles is. So Charles would never love Edwin as more than a friend, because Charles said he didn't love Edwin as more than a friend.

But imagine if he did. If one day, like Edwin, he realized and just couldn't hold it in anymore. Edwin is moving on, he won’t try and wait for Charles to be anything but a friend, but he won't stop loving him either. If Charles suddenly felt the same way, suddenly that time of trying to move on feels foolish, suddenly he's back in hell trying to find where he remembered wrong. And of course he'd understand the denial and repression, but while part of him would be wanting to immediately be with Charles, another would be scared of starting thins over after moving on, and another would be convinced Charles didn't mean it, that he was just trying to help him. It would hurt, and all that reflects back on Charles too.

In the end I think it would tear the boys’ hearts apart. At least they'd have each other to help out them back together.

[jmdbjk]

He didn't have to apologize again. He doesn't have anything to apologize for.

We've seen other idols having to do this seemingly unnecessary and overcompensating "sincere" apology before for other behavior deemed "normal" like having a boyfriend. Those are REALLY unnecessary apologies in my opinion.

Anecdote: I don't claim to understand completely but I do know, coming from my Asian heritage standpoint, the "honor" thing is a REAL embedded thing. Throughout my life, my Asian mother would make remarks about her friends' adult children or their spouses being "not good" and I never really understood the implications until well into my own adulthood. The judgmentalism is very embedded in Asian culture, at least it is in Japanese and Korean culture. I always brushed it off as Mom being too judgmental over nothing. She grew up in Japan. I grew up in America. We are different that way.

I can't get around it. You can't get around it. It is what it is. Is it slowly evolving out of Asian culture? Perhaps. I don't know. As I said, I'm American with my own embedded American attitudes.

What we can't deny is what Yoongi did was illegal. Perhaps considered a misdemeanor in other countries and inconsequential but obviously not so in South Korea. Yoongi had no choice but to post that handwritten letter of atonement because that is what is expected of someone in his position.

There are a lot of other people Yoongi is associated with: all the people at his company, the members, their families, the Korean companies that sponsor BTS projects or collaborate with them, his colleagues he works with and their associates, friends that we don't even know about, his family, his parents, all of these people he has to account for. So he made this public apology AGAIN, in a "proper" way, with a proper "sincere" handwritten letter, to preserve those relationships for the public's sake, to show respect to them. In private, we can only hope that he is making his way through this with the full support and love from all these same people.

There are a series of things that need to happen for Yoongi to move forward. Unfortunately, this letter was one of them. We might see a final police report soon. Hopefully it confirms everything we already knew. Or it might say things differently which we may want to disagree with but it will be FINAL. And it will be another step in this closure process.

He won't have to apologize like this again. He might apologize to us, his fans, again, but not in this way. He will process this the way he needs to in order to move forward.

I know we do not agree with the statement "it is their culture" and that is valid. Agree to disagree. But at this point in time, this is what he had to do to move forward. I respect his decisions on the actions he takes. He is the one living this hell in person. No one has the right to tell him what he needs to do or not do.

Hopefully at another point in time in the future, other public figures and celebrities will not need to go through these steps to regain any "lost honor". As Namjoon said, in their country, as advanced as it is, accelerated industrial growth comes with its own shadows. Societal and cultural growth is much slower to change.

I am going to respect how the members of BTS behave now regarding the general media in their country. If Hobi's discharge plays out just like Jin's, then that is their decision and I will abide by it. If Hobi chooses to stand and salute outside the gates of the base and wave to the cameras, I will respect his decision to do so. He will not be forced to do it. He served his country proudly and well and he earned the right to be able to publicly enjoy the personal satisfaction of doing so. If he decides to forgo that, I respect that too.

I am not expecting any member to say anything publicly individually. Maybe they will, maybe they won't. Perhaps Jin and Hobi will say something together. Maybe not. I will never insist that they do in order to prove their support to ME.

If Hobi and Jin never say anything about Yoongi's incident, I will be fine with it. It is not my place to dictate how he, Jin or any of the other members should behave in this matter. This is between them. We did our part. I respect whatever decisions they make in handling the general media going forward. They are the ones living there, not us.

Some I-Armys want to riot in the streets in front of the Hybe building to vent their anger or to show their love and support and when they don't see it forthcoming from K-army, there is more frustration. Some vehemently disagree with letting this unfold without burning everything to the ground.

All eyes are on us. It is more important to be measured and cautious at this point than reactive and emotional. You can agree to disagree. We all have that choice. But right now, its more important to think about how everything we do affects Yoongi as he works to preserve his own emotional stability, his own personal and working relationships and less important are what OUR desires are. Our only desire should be that he is healing, he is moving forward with the love and support from those he is closest to.

He has seen our love pouring forth on Weverse and charting the music. He KNOWS we are here. Keep it going there, those are our two most visible means of communicating directly with him.

I trust Yoongi and his team. Now more than ever, trust him to be doing the right things for himself.

We are getting through this hell, one painfully slow step at a time. All we can do is keep walking with him until we see the other side together.

Apobangpo.

[rootedinrevisions]

I'm Comin' Over

Summary: Ashley is sitting at home one night, staring at her phone. She knows she shouldn't call him. She knows it's a bad idea. But she can't resist and gives in. She sends Tyler a late-night text, and his response is immediate. Tyler arrives at her place and the two try to work out the issues in the relationship. SMUT.

The clock on the wall ticks monotonously, each second stretching into the next like the minutes of her lonely night. She sits on the couch in her living room wearing one of his old sweatshirts, its edges frayed and soft, paired with a pair of short shorts that seemed to emphasize how small and vulnerable she felt.

The dim glow of the TV screen flickers across the living room, casting long shadows that dance on the walls. Her gaze keeps drifting to the phone lying beside her, its screen dark and silent.

She scrolls through the endless list of streaming options. She flips through the titles with a listless finger, each show or movie offering no escape from the swirling thoughts in her mind. Her fingers click the buttons on the remote control, but her thoughts are consumed by him–Tyler. The weight of their unresolved issues presses heavily on her heart.

Her eyes dart back to her phone, which rests just a few inches away. She knows she shouldn't reach out. Their relationship has been teetering on the edge for too long, and she fears that any momentary comfort won't change the fundamental cracks. But the longing for him is palpable, and her resolve weakens.

She finds herself reaching for the phone. The screen illuminates her face as she stares at Tyler's contact. Her thumb hovers over the keyboard, the cursor blinking expectantly. 

She could call, hear his voice, and maybe he would come over. But did she really want to open that door tonight?

She sighs, finally giving in. Her fingers tremble slightly as she types a simple message: I miss you.

She hovers over the send button, her thumb hesitating as if weighing the consequences of her choice. Her heart pounds in her chest, and with a deep breath, she presses the button.

His response is almost immediate. The screen lights up with a notification: Tyler is calling. She answers, her voice barely above a whisper as she hears his familiar, comforting voice on the other end.

"I'm comin' over," Tyler says, and she can hear the urgency and warmth in his tone.

Minutes later, the sound of a key turning in the lock is quickly followed by the creak of the door as Tyler lets himself in. He kicks his boots off, them echoing softly as they hit the hardwood floor. He makes his way across the living room and takes a seat beside her on the couch.

Without hesitation, he leans in to kiss her. But she stops him, her hand gently placing itself on his chest. Tyler looks at her with a mix of confusion and concern.

"We need to talk, Tyler," she says, trying to steady her nerves. He hates that her voice falters slightly. "This...whatever this is between us...it's not working. We keep breaking up and making up, and it's exhausting. I think we should both move on. You know, get some closure–"

"Closure?" Tyler's expression hardens as he looks over at her. "To hell with the closure. Why would we want to end something that still has fire under it?"

She shook her head, her feelings a tangled mess of regret and desire. "But we keep doing this. We fight. We break up, and then we–"

"And then we make up," Tyler interrupts, his tone insistent. "You think that just because we fight sometimes means it's over? We've got something real here, Ash. I know it's not perfect, but it's still burning strong. Why would you want to put it out?"

She tries to argue, her voice rising with the frustration of her internal struggle. "I don't know if this is what I want anymore–"

Tyler leaned closer, his hand reaching out and cupping her face. His fingers were warm against her cool skin, his gaze piercing and intense. "You wouldn't have called me this late if you didn't want me anymore," he said, his voice soft and firm.

She opens her mouth to protest, but the words catch in her throat. She can see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw emotions that he's showing for a change. The weight of his words, combined with the closeness of his body, makes it hard to maintain her resolve.

Tyler's patience finally wears thin, and he leans in. His eyes lock on hers before he closes the distance between them and captures her lips with his own. The kiss is unexpected and intense. It's filled with an urgency that leaves her breathless. As his lips move against hers, the warmth and familiarity of his touch begin to dissolve her resistance.

She leans in closer to him, her hands finding their way to his neck and then his shoulders, anchoring herself to him. Tyler's hand slides around to the back of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss. She could feel the fire that had always burned between them reigniting with an intensity that made it impossible to think clearly.

He reaches down and pushes the blanket covering her lap to the floor, before grabbing her waist and pulling her body on top of his lap. Her body presses against his, and she could feel his heart pounding in rhythm with hers.

They continue to kiss, her hands going to the back of his neck and his hair. His sliding down her waist and around to her ass. As the kiss finally breaks they rest their foreheads against each other, breathing heavily.

She looks into Tyler's eyes, a mix of hope and apprehension in her gaze. "So, what does this mean for us?" She asks softly, her voice trembling slightly with uncertainty.

"I'm not ready to give up on us," he whispers as his lips gently press kisses to her neck.

"Ty...it has to be different this time. I don't want to keep fighting and breaking up."

"Then don't fight with me," he whispers as he reaches the collar of his sweatshirt. He pulls away so she can look into his eyes.

"I'm serious," she says.

He sighs, his hands resting on her waist as he looks into her eyes. "I know."

"You're always away, and sometimes...sometimes I feel like I don't hear from you at all. Days go by without even a text or a call. I have to watch your channel to see what you've been up to..." she starts to say before she stops herself to take a breath.

A mix of hurt and frustration crosses Tyler's face. "You think it's easy for me? I hate being away from you. I hate missing out on everything that's happening back here. I hate being away from you. I'm out there chasing storms because it's what I love, but that doesn't mean I don't love you. I just...I thought we could handle this"

She blinks, taken aback by his admission. The weight of his words hits her with a jolt. "Did you just...did you just say you love me?"

Tyler's face flushes slightly, a mix of vulnerability and determination. "Yeah, I did. I know I don't say it very often, but I mean it. I've been trying to balance everything, and I guess I thought you knew."

She stares at him, her voice trembling. "You've never said it before. Not like that."

He reaches up, his hand cupping her face as he looks at her. "I know I haven't been the best at showing it, and I'm sorry for that." He pauses to clear his throat before he continues. "But I do love you. I need you to believe me."

Her heart races, caught between hope and skepticism. Before she can say anything else, Tyler stands up, his strong arms supporting her as she wraps her legs around his waist. Her laughter bubbles up, a mix of surprise and delight.

Tyler grins, his eyes filled with mischief. "Let's see if I can show you just how much I love you. What do you say?"

With that, he starts to walk towards her bedroom, his steps confident but gentle. He makes his way over to the bed and lays her down on it. He presses a quick kiss to her lips before his hands grab the bottom of his sweatshirt and pulls it over her head, tossing it to the side. His tongue slides over his bottom lip as he realizes that she isn't wearing anything underneath the sweatshirt. His fingers then hook into the top of her pajama shorts as he slides them and her underwear down her legs.

He then turns and makes his way into the bathroom. She hears the sound of her shower turning on before Tyler returns a moment later.

"I haven't had a chance to shower since I got back, you don't mind if I use yours, right?" He smirks.

Her lips curve into a wide smirk as she props herself up on her elbows. "Only if I can join you."

He chuckles before he takes her hand pulling her to her feet and into him. His hands slide down her sides and around to her back as hers reach up to start undoing the buttons on the flannel he was wearing. She makes quick work of the buttons and he shrugs the shirt off. He then reaches down and grabs the bottom of the white undershirt he had on and pulls it over his head.

Her fingertips gently run down his chest, feeling the little bit of chest hair as she makes her way down to his jeans and belt. She makes easy work of the belt buckle before sliding the belt out of its loops. She then pops open the buttons of the jeans and slides his zipper down. He pushes his jeans and boxers down before stepping out of them.

He then takes her hand, leading her into the bathroom off her master bedroom. They step into the shower and the warm water hitting her skin instantly relaxes Ashley. It was as if all the negative thoughts and energy were washing down the drain too.

She closes her eyes, her head leaning back as she lets the warm water run over her skin. She feels his hand on her hip before he pulls her back against his chest. He leans in and starts kissing her neck and shoulder. Her arms reach up to run through his now damp hair as his hands continue to explore her body, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses all over her shoulders and back.

"T-Tyler–" she moans as she suddenly feels a stream of warm water between her legs. Her eyes roll back, and she feels her knees start to go weak as Tyler turns up the pressure just slightly on the shower head.

Her fingers dig into Tyler's hair as she feels her climax creeping closer and closer. She was sure her knees were going to give out when her release hit, and she hoped Tyler's hold on her would be enough to keep her upright.

Just as she thinks she is going to finish, Tyler pulls the shower head away and she immediately feels a throbbing between her legs.

A small groan, almost a whine even, leaves her mouth as she wants nothing more than to have the pulsing sensation of the warm water back between her thighs.

"Shhh, I've got you, baby girl. You know I'm not going to leave you like this," Tyler says as he puts the shower head back in place.

His hands gently turn her around so their chests are touching and they're facing each other. He reaches down and takes her hands in his, intertwining his fingers with hers before he places them against the shower wall above him. He leans in and starts gently sucking on her neck. One hand keeps hers pinned above her head while the other reaches up and cups her face as he kisses her lips.

His arm reaches down, wrapping around her waist before lifting her. Her legs wrap around his waist as he presses her back against the tile of the shower wall.

Her hands brace herself on his shoulders as his hands move to her waist, guiding her down onto his cock. They both let out a moan as he slid into her.

"God you feel so good," he groans as he presses his forehead to hers.

His thrusts start slow and teasing, almost painfully so. He pushes in a few inches and then slowly pulls himself out. Then he'd push in again, painfully slow.

"I n-need more." She whispers into his ear as she feels an intense need for her realist.

His hips start to pick up speed, slowly but surely. She clenches around him, something she knew drove him absolutely crazy.

"S-shit," he breathes out as he braces himself with one arm on the tile wall while the other slides around her waist to support her weight. "You know that shit drives me insane."

"That's the point," she smirks.

"God, I love you," he says before he leans in and presses his lips to hers.

His hips start thrusting in and out of her quicker, every thrust causing his tip to brush against the spot deep inside of her. Her moans get louder, despite her best efforts to keep them in. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to subdue some of the noise.

"Let go of that fucking lip. Let me hear how good I make you feel," he demands, his eyes meeting hers.

She immediately lets go of her lip as her moans start filling the room.

"T-Tyler...f-fu–" she moans as she feels her orgasm approaching.

She was so close to her climax, that her legs started to shake. She just needs a few more thrusts, just that little something to push her over the edge. Tyler thrusts into her one last time, his name leaving her lips as he releases inside of her.

He gently sets her down on her feet, his arm staying strong around her waist. They both breathe heavily, their gasps for air filling the room.

"You okay?" He whispers as he lifts his head to look at him. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She nods, her lips curving into a smile.

"I love you," she whispers.

"I love you," he says before leaning in to press a soft, gentle kiss to her lips. "I love you so much, baby girl."

[s0urw00lf]

Twisted luck

Not alone

Sam Winchester x reader

Warnings: angst, just lots and lots of angst and a little but not really fluff

AN: this is kind of a filler chapter, so i can develop Sam and readers relationship. Were kinda like very very slowly seeping into building their relationship.

Last chapter — Next chapter

Today was the day you're supposed to meet with Jason's family. His mom, dad, and older sister are all waiting to hear the story from you. The story of how it happened, of how you came home to your apartment covered in his blood, how it seemingly seeped through your skin and into your soul painting it red.

You felt like you were just waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Waiting to open your eyes and be greeted by Jason’s soft brown eyes and that stupid lopsided smile he wore all the time. But you knew that was wishful thinking.

Sam and Dean were out again, researching, trying to find what killed Jess and Jason. Usually you'd be with them but the meeting was in an hour and you could barely drag yourself out of bed. You weren’t ready to face his family, to face that internal guilt that you couldn't save him.

Eventually you got up, making your way to the bathroom. Your face cold due to the air conditioning blowing on your wet cheeks. When you looked in the mirror you finally noticed how bad you looked, dark circles around your red eyes and you were pale like you haven't seen the sun in months, and the frown on your face seemed to be imprinted there, the tip of your nose was red from crying. Now that Sam and Dean aren't around, you finally let yourself cry.

You didn't understand why. Why you left, why you couldn't save him, why you had to have been born into this hell of a life. Why you didn't tell him you loved him before you left, why you hesitated, why this had to happen to him.

Your phone ringing broke you out of your trance, you pulled it out of your pocket, answering without much thought. “Yeah” you answered, trying your hardest to sound like you haven't been crying. “Sam and I are heading back now, you need anything?” Dean asked.

You wiped your stuffy nose absentmindedly “uh no, im supposed to be leaving out soon anyway” you replied. Dean nodded to himself on the other side of the phone “yeah ok, hey you sure you don't want me to drive you?” he asked, his tone was full of pity and it was starting to irritate you. You sighed “yeah dean im sure, i'll call you later” you said before hanging up.

When you arrived at the address they gave you, you contemplated calling Dean to come get you. But your gut told you that you needed to do this.

To give his family closure even if you couldn't have it. You let out a breath before ringing the doorbell and only a few moments later the door opened revealing Katherine, Jason's sister.

She gave you a small attempt at a smile but you couldn't even bring yourself to attempt one yourself. “y/n, it's good to see you” she said, bringing you in for a hug which you reluctantly returned. “Come in,” she said after pulling away. You followed her to the living room where their parents were sitting on the couch holding each other seemingly to ground each other. When they saw you they stood to greet you, giving you hugs of their own.

You could tell Jason's death had been hard on them, as cliche as it sounded he was a light in such a dark gloomy world, and the absence of it seemed to show everywhere. “y/n i would ask you how you're doing but, given the circumstances…” Jason's father Mark trailed off. They asked you to sit and you obliged.

Jane and Mark looked at each other before Jane started to talk. “We already heard what happened from the police, but we’d like to hear it from you i-” Jane was cut off by Katherine “mom” she hissed. You shook your head “no its fine, i uh. Yes it's fine”.

Katherine grabbed your hand “you don't have to y/n seriously i can't even imagine how terrible it was” she said, her eyes were soft and gentle. You gave her an attempt of a smile “no it's okay, id want to know too if it was me” you said. You gently pulled your hand away from Katherine, adjusting in your seat. “A- a few days before it… happened, I left on a trip with my… cousins.” you started, wincing at your lie.

“And when I got back… when I got back I found him. In the living room. Bleeding. It was everywhere, the blood. And I could smell it, it was so strong” your voice broke as the tears began cascading down your face, you didn't have any care to wipe them away.

This was the first time you let yourself think about it and remember. “I held him and he was still-” you abruptly stood up shaking your head. “No, no no no. I'm sorry I can't. I- i thought i could but this is too much. I'm so sorry.” you quickly said, before seeing yourself to the door. You could barely see through your teary eyes.

When you got outside you took a deep inhale, you felt like the air had been completely sucked from your lungs and like you were fighting to get it back. With shaky hands you reached in your pocket pulling out your phone. Deans contact was already on the screen when you opened the screen thankfully. You pressed call, holding the phone up to your ear breathing hard as you listened to the phone ring. Voicemail. That seemed to be a recurring thing.

You sighed, hanging up. The next person in your mind to call was Sam, so you did, the phone didn't ring for long until you heard Sam's voice “hello” he answered, sounding empty.

You sniffled, trying to clear your vision of tears “Sam, i tried to call Dean but he didn't answer and i really need somebody-” your panicked words were cut off by sam. “Wait- y/n calm down. Talk to me, what happened?” he asked, sounding worried. You let out a shaky breath “i tried, i tried- but i can't. Sammy, I can't do it. Just- just please come get me” you pleaded shakily.

You could hear shuffling around in the back and muffled talking. “Okay i'm coming, just uh, just hold on ill be there soon, okay?” he said, before you heard a door slam in the background. You nodded, even though he couldn't see you “yeah okay” you said, hanging up the phone.

You sat on the stairs of the front porch for a while before you heard the door open. Your heart dropped slightly, “hey, i'm heading out, where are you staying i'll give you a ride” you heard katherine’s gentle voice say from behind you.

You turned around to look at her through your tears. You shook your head politely declining her request “no it's okay, i called someone” you said. She gave you a sad smile, “well mind if i sit with you while you wait?” she asked. You scooted over and she took that as an invitation.

“You know, he was really happy with you. He talked about you like you hung the stars in the sky” she said. You played with your fingers, not sure what to say back. “He was a bright boy and you made him brighter” she said before she paused.

“y/n, look at me please” she asked. You did as she asked, looking at her and it almost hurt how much she looked like Jason, the same soft brown eyes, and light freckles littered over her face. “I can't imagine you feel having to see him like that, nobody should ever have to go through that.” she started “But I can see it in your eyes. You think it's your fault and it's not. What happened to Jason couldn't have been prevented and there's a chance if you were there you wouldn't have made it out either” she said.

But she didn't know what you're capable of. She doesn't know that if you would've been there the house would have been covered in someone else's blood. She didn't know that Jason would see you as a monster. “You can't blame yourself, it will tear you apart from the inside out and drain you of everything you are” she finished.

You looked away from her, throat burning as you held back tears. “Jason deserved better, and when they find who did this to him I will make sure they never see the light of day again” you said, though you meant it differently from how she would take it.

The two of you continued talking, well she talked and you listened, until you heard the familiar sound of the impala rolling down the street until it stopped in front of the house.

You stood dusting your pants “this is my ride” you said turning away, eager to get away and breathe. “y/n” she called you. You squeezed your eyes shut before turning around “don't be shy okay? Call or text. We can get dinner sometime.” she said. You nodded “okay” you said before turning around and walking to the car.

When you got in the car you sighed, placing your face in your hands. You wanted to scream, or break something, and cry all at the same time.

Sam looked at you worriedly “you okay?” he asked. You nodded in your hands before sitting back up, as he pulled off. “How do you do it?” you asked.

Sam looked at you in confusion, urging you to explain. “How are you so… controlled. I feel like I'm dying inside” you said.

Sam sighed, “we all deal with our grief differently, i feel like that too, and i'm angry, and i want revenge so bad it's almost consuming me” he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

It's poetic almost, you and Sam once again bonding over someone you lost. “Why, why did they have to die? If whoever this demon is, wants us so badly, why does it keep targeting people around us. The ones that can protect themselves.” you asked, looking at sam.

His face was stone cold “I don't know. But I know once we find dad and your mom and find the demon we're gonna make sure it pays” he said. You couldn't agree more.

The two of you were silent for a whole before he spoke “you know i still feel like i'm there sometimes. I can feel the heat on my skin and I can see her.

I can hear her begging me to save her and all I do is just lay there.” he said, you could see the tears in his eyes. You didn't say anything, because you felt it too.

You still felt the blood on your body. You still felt the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. You paused “we don't have to do this alone.” you said looking at him. “I mean we have Dean but more so we have each other. We know what each other is going through and selfishly i don't think i can handle this alone. I don't think I can carry this alone, sammy."

Sam pulled into a diner parking lot, parking before he turned off the car. He looked at you for the first time since he picked you up “okay” he agreed.

“I'm glad you said that because I don't think I can take much more of the silent grief and dean might just leave us because of all the emo angst” he said, attempting a joke. You gave him a half smile, feeling a little relieved. “You hungry? Deans paying” he asked, giving you a small smile. You nodded “starving” you answered, before you both exited the car.

Your grief was nowhere near over. But knowing that you weren't alone and that you had someone to lean on who knew what you were going though dulled that ache a little.

[rafaelaaron]

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 | 𝘼𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙃𝙤𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙣𝙚𝙧

AN: Is it too early for first snow fic? No because it snowed where I live...English is not my first language, sorry in advance for any grammatical mistake!

Summary: Hotch is thinking about reader while watching the first snow, wondering if she would come back after protection.

Warning: none

The park was quiet, too quiet for the fist snow of the year. The team had just closed a case in Virginia, but it felt like they went to the opposite side of the earth, simply because the case was personal. Personal to the one Aaron Hotchner himself, and that's why it took so long for the team to have a well-deserved break even after making sure that the unsub will never see the daylight again. The bureau had to gather a commitee to question the team's decision, and most importantly, the protection detail had to be cleared.

Protection detail for you.

He hated the idea, of course, considering how Haley's protection ended, but there was no other choice. He didn't want you to be terrified of a serial killer without any security detail. He couldn't bear another loss.

It was a terrible year.

He missed you badly, so he worked extra hard to get the closure. Now that the unsub is gone, he should be happily waiting for your return, but he couldn't. It felt weird. He had an uncomfortable feeling that you might not want to be with him anymore. What kind of a boyfriend he is, he thought, to put his lover in danger and take away her freedom? Of course you said that you aren't scared of his job, but there's a high chance that you are now. Hell, you can even be afraid of him.

The park was quiet, and he was watching the snow falling down gently. The day when it snowed for the first time last year was the day the both of you saw each other for the last time. That fact didn't help his complicated mind and it didn't help to make him hear the sound of an SVU stopping and a small sound of a footstep.

“First snow always feels weird, you know.“

His heart dropped and skipped a beat at the same time.

He had heard that a year ago. That same comment with that same voice. Slowly, he turned his head around and found you, standing right beside him wearing a long black coat. All he could see was you.

His hand twitched in his coat pocket, but he could not dare reach out. He was afraid that one touch might hurt you and one hug might make you disappear. You sensed his hesitance and brushed snowflakes off his head on tiptoes.

"Haven't you missed me?"

You asked with a brilliant smile, and he snapped into reality seeing your smile. He pulled you toward him and wrapped his arms around you so tight that you thought you might suffocate.

“Of course I missed you.”

Hotch's big cold hands cupped your slightly flushed cheek lovingly. His lips instantly found yours, licking its way in. You happily opened your lips to let him explore your mouth that he missed so much. He pulled away first, playfully biting your lower lip.

"My love,"

He murmured with a smile, just as you promised each other to greet with a smile when you meet again. All of his worries melt away while slowly walking hand in hand.

"So, Aaron, there's this new bakery down the street—"

"Do you want to go?"

"I've waited so long to go with you."

[blackdagger456]

Let’s Talk: MAWS Spoilers: Livewire X Heatwave Unexpected But Important & Not Unwelcome

I’m gonna try and keep this short. Mostly due to me just not having much to say about S2 of MAWS in the first place. I’m loving it and any minor issues I may have don’t require me to make an analysis post lime this.

That being said—I don’t have a problem with this at all. I’m an old Superman fan. Weird seeing as I’m in my 20s but that’s still old enough to have grown up on the original Superman TAS show along with the Batman version and Jl/JLU.

Did I think it was weird/interesting to go with these designs for Heatwave and Livewire? A bit yeah, but I like giving things a chance and I liked what they did with Livewires character. Didn’t really have too much an opinion on Rory as we didn’t spend much time with her until this episode.

Even the, it’s still only a little bit we spend time with her but its more than does its purpose when it comes down to her, Livewire and the message the showrunners try to convey.

“You never know when to walk away. But I do.”

Now know what the later reveal…well, reveals. But this feels like an actual conversation and issue the two has. Especially with Rorys last line in the episode. But the fact that scene happens later on at all is the point.

Love is messy. Something Lous herself knows all about due to her relationship with her father and Clark. She’s afraid of it—hell she’s terrified but she wants to make things right.

Her love has always burned her. People leave or she is forced to leave them and that culminated into what she said to Clark before he was kidnapped. But being scared isn’t a be all end all for a relationship.

In fact it’s GOOD to be scared. What’s not good is letting that fear dictate your life. Dictate how you deal with feeling that love for another person.

“Love is not for cowards.”

It’s scary and dangerous and messy and rough but it can be so worth it in the end. Be it the end result is you being happy, simply making that leap forward or finding closure Love is WORTH that risk. Worth the risk of sticking it out to find a good balance and partnership that isn’t abusive but one in which you and your partner give and take from one another in a healthy way.

In an unconditional way.

In a way that makes you both better.

And I love My Adventures With Superman for trying to teach/get that lesson across. Doing it at the end of Pride Month is just another big bonus in the shows favor.

[sativiaslover]

dividers from here

🫧Bath Time🧼

summary - you finally get him to bathe.

paring; D.D x M!Reader (can be read as gn tho)

cw: sfw nudity, “i love yous”, two men absolutely head over heels for each other, international lowercase, it’s said that reader is taller than Daryl👍

word count: 1.7k

————

time often felt fast in the new world, fast enough for him to not realize how long it really had been since he last showered. since arriving in alexandria Daryl been on edge, especially with everyone besides him getting jobs. even you had a job, and you were with him more times than not. he felt like an outcast all over again.

the day had been going by pretty slow, with Daryl doing his usual routine of going out to hunt for his food —despite being offered food time and time again from people in his group and other residents— you being right by his side closely.

a smell, horrid and absolutely deathly creeped into your nose. after getting to alexandria, you took full advantage of the piping hot showers and soap. however, it was very much clear, your boyfriend did not.

“hey d’?” you spoke up, twig snapping beneath your foot as you walked with him.

“‘mm?”

you thought for a second, trying to figure out how to word your next sentence without sounding crude.

“have..have you thought about utilizing the showers?” your voice came out barely above a whisper, hoping he would catch the memo of telling him he smelled like absolute ass. luckily for you, he happened to be great with hints.

he was silent for a moment, not returning an answer.

“yeah.” was all he let out, his eyes kept on the animal prints he was tracking.

you happened to be terrible when it came to things like tracking, often that led you wondering why he ever took you out with him to hunt. your attention was quick to switch back to the matter at hand.

“why haven’t you?”

“jus’ gon’ get dirty ‘gan”

you hummed, his thought process wasn’t totally unreasonable, but you knew it ran much deeper than just ‘getting dirty again.’

“wh- '' your sentence was cut short as his hand flung up in attempt to silence you, (working very effectively) he raised his cross bow. ahead you could see what appeared to be an elk, beautiful while it lasted, daryl’s arrow shooting through its head faster than light.

—

whilst you and Daryl had been busy with dragging the giant, smelly, god awful stench of a corpse back to the truck bed, a thought suddenly arose in your head.

“D?” you spoke, he grunted in response, letting you know you had his attention despite he wasn’t looking directly at you. “what if i helped you get clean?”

at that, his attention was fully on you, the elk finally getting tossed up and over onto the truck bed.

the look on his face was evident, you had embarrassed him. he knew he didn’t smell the best, hell he smelt it himself, but the fact you had pointed it out only made him slightly more self conscious. ever since arriving in the “safe haven” of alexandria, he’d refused to shower, it’d leave him vulnerable and he needed to be ready for anything at any time.

any other person wouldn’t have batted an eye at his subtle expression, but you weren’t any other person, you were his boyfriend. about to backtrack your words, to give him some closure that it wasn’t the biggest deal ever, something left his mouth that surprised you, regardless of the fact you were the one to bring it up in the first place.

“fine.”

“really?!” you gawked.

“yeah, ‘mean what’s tha’ harm?” he muttered, you’d seen him nude numerous times, ranging from taking care of brutal injuries, to having sex. he’d been vulnerable around you before, and every time you were nothing but sweet to him. he supposed it wouldn’t hurt terribly to be vulnerable one more time, especially for something as heavenly as getting a piping hot shower AND getting scrubbed by you.

—

sounds of hot water rushing into the tub filled the room, the aroma of the space peaceful as the yellow overhead light made it’s usual routine of flicker flicker dim light up, flicker flicker dim light up. you sat atop the toilet, watching the water fill up the tub, making sure it didn’t overflow.

Daryl looked at you with an uncertainty and discomfort, a look you hadn’t seen since he was shoved into the lake at the quarry by Amy. the water pipes made a loud squeakkkkk as you shut the water off, the noise never failed to make you cringe. you looked at Daryl once more before realizing he was already stripping. averting your eyes quickly to not make him uncomfortable — regardless of the fact you’d seen him like this before — you tried to make yourself look busy by putting the soap into the water.

when you hear the final clank of his pants and belt hitting the ground you looked over at him, taking in his vulnerable state with a deep loving smile. the smile that never failed to make Daryl swoon for you.

“c’mon big boy, in the water you go.” you stated, his body not moving an inch. you contemplated picking him up and putting him in, considering you were much bigger than him — but you know that would just go south completely.

trying to coax him in, you stood. “c’monnnnn D, you said you would.” your voice laced with slight desperation, giving him big ol’ puppy eyes.

“ ‘dun look at me like tha’..” he swayed a little where he stood.

a huff left your mouth as you turned toward the tub, giving

thought how nervous he seemed. an idea suddenly sprung into your head.

“what if i got in with you?” the question left your mouth before you could really consider how it might’ve made him feel, you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, especially not in front of you at that.

the question seemed to make his head perk up slightly, a slow nod following his reaction. a small smile formed across your face, standing up and walking towards his shorter form. you planted a soft kiss on his hairline and gently shoved him toward the tub, coaxing him to get in it. he complied with your silent request, a small puff of air leaving his chest as he carefully got in and sank down slowly.

while he was busying himself with the tiny bubbles that formed on the surface of the water, you stripped and made your way in with him. the warm water eased his muscles, your body seemed to tensen them right back up again as you slid in behind him.

“relax Dar..” you whispered to him, as if saying anything louder would break the whole moment and wake you up from this amazing dream.

he let out a soft grunt in response, leaning backwards onto your chest.

“as much as i love holding you baby, you need to get clean.” you chuckled into his ear, he thought he was gonna melt at the heavenly sound he’d grown addicted to.

“mm.”

“scoot,” you commanded, and like always, he complied.

no words were spoken after that, all that could be heard was the soft sounds of water splashing and the overhead light flickering. you were busy running your fingers through your boyfriend's hair, getting rid of the knots and tangles as gently as you could. a soft snore could be heard for a moment and you could’ve sworn he fell asleep for a moment. taking his beautiful brown locks into your hands, you slowly lathered the caramel scented shampoo onto his scalp.

your nails scraped against his head carefully, rough enough to remove the dried blood and dirt, but gentle enough that he found himself dozing off once more. after a good moment or so, you kissed his shoulder and rinsed his hair out with the shower head.

putting the conditioner in his hair, you made your way to work on his body. moving with delicacy, you grabbed the loofa you’d been saving for this moment.

“ can s’crub ma’self, ” he huffed, feeling smaller than he felt he should.

“well,” you started, “i’d love to get your back for you!”

he smiled at that, taking the loofa from your hand to scrub the front half of his body with the lavender body soap. your senses were overloaded with a mix of iron and sweet sugary scents. it reminded you of your first time bathing together (you more so than him..), back when you had just arrived at the quarry and were desperate for a quick rinse off in the lake. he had offered to keep watch after you practically begged around for someone to come with and keep watch, albeit he was very hesitant to leave Merle’s side.

you sat along the bank where it was sandy, scrubbing harshly at your skin to get whatever (or rather whomever's) blood off your body. the smell of honey suckles and iron filled your senses, just like the caramel conditioner and iron did now.

a small cough brought you back from your daydreaming, opening your eyes to see him handing you the loofa again. a grin rose to your face and you kissed the top of his shoulder before taking it from his hand. you softly scrubbed his back and you could’ve sworn you heard him purr, you held in a giggle and continued to softly scrub. you’d never bring it up, though the thought of seeing him flushed and red was exciting.

once you were sure all the grime and blood had been lifted and taken off his body you kissed the crown of his head and wrapped your arms around him.

leaning close to his ear you whispered, “gotta rinse off baby.”

“ ‘mm..” he hummed in protest, regardless of the fact he’d already kicked the drain plug down and stood up to get ready and rinse.

—

the rest of the night was spent cuddling up close to Daryl in bed. he refused to let you do his skincare, saying it was “unnecessary and girly.” so you opted for cuddling up to him and shoving your faces in each other's necks to get closer to each other, if that was even possible.

“hey Dar..?” you mumbled quietly, in case he was asleep.

to absolutely no surprise, he mumbled back, “hmm?”

“i love you.”

“…”

“ love ‘ya too angel.”

—-

A/N: hiii, so this if my first time writing for Daryl and actually uploading it..so i’m terribly sorry if it’s ooc😞🙏🏽 tips & thoughts r very much appreciated!!

[butchbarneygumble]

Imagine how I must feel as one of the only fans of Mighty Magiswords. You know. A headcanons-and-fanfic kind of fan. I even cosplayed Prohyas once.

Of course, it's nothing compared to what the actual victims went through... I'm fine. But it still felt like a part of my identity has been permanently soured. I don't want to seem like I somehow have it worse, that's not my intention. Nothing bad happened to me personally. I'm only posting my own side of how I deal with the situation, to get some closure myself and show solidarity with the victims.

I don't admire him anymore, and that's putting it lightly.

Full story under cut. Content warning for non-graphic discussion of csa.

The news came to me from my ex-but-still-friend. He told me privately, out of nowhere, just dropped it on me. Like, "Hey, sorry to tell you, but the guy you like got arrested for csa". However, I am glad he told me rather than me having to find out on my own.

The news hit me, and I felt nothing in my body. I usually would get this painful fight-or-flight all through my body whenever I read something that upset me, something I've been training myself to get better with. But right now? I just felt like... "huh. That happened." It helped a lot that Magiswords wasn't my fixation of the moment. And like... it's been like I've been slipping away from it. Like I didn't need it anymore.

More and more people were talking about him, and it wasn't positive. Who? Kyle.

I talked to him. Personally, like many people did. He never acted weird to me. I admired him. I loved his art, sent him physical fanart, all that stuff. I knew more than one person said he was not trustworthy but hey, he made a show that saved my life, so it was a constant struggle between feeling like I had to pick sides. I was going through hell by virtue of my dad being terminally sick and needing constant care, so I was gonna ignore the red flags and enjoy my silly sword show that brought me such joy.

Even if as time went on it started get harder and harder.

But you know what a certain depressed horse show said? When you're wearing rose coloured glasses, red flags just look like flags.

I now think dodged a bullet.

What emotions do I feel? Betrayal. Anger. Disgust. Disappointment.

The irony about it all. The sheer painful irony of blacklisting somebody for *drawings*, and then going behind everybody's back to actually hoard *actual* csa, and revenge porn, and all sorts of nasty stuff. For the record: there is nothing wrong with being put off or disgusted by specific sorts of drawings. But the irony here is what's most painful to me. I do not like people using this as a "gotcha" for either side of this tired argument. It's disrespectful to the actual victims.

People say I can easily seperate art from the artist if I want to but... right now I don't think I want to. He's in every pore of its identity. I do not want to talk or think about Magiswords right now, and I don't know if I ever will again.

It meant so much to me. Prohyas felt like Me. Being a goofy capable adult who doesn't stop collecting things he likes just cuz he's an adult. I thought I was trans for a while and the euphoria of relating to Prohyas helped that. Then he got lowkey confirmed nonbinary and I was over the moon.

It was good. Emphasis on "was".

And to the man himself I have one thing to say: you're another one in a long history of cartoon artists who end up being unsavoury, slimy people, taking advantage of young people, especially girls, in the animation industry. Not something to be proud of. I know we talked and you seemed perfectly okay to me, personally. All I can think is thank god it never went beyond casual chats.

I guess I can finally say I never liked the joke about Vambre not liking pants. Sure, sensory issues exist, but I doubt that was the intention of the design. I have deleted my sideblog where I chronicled ooc screencaps of the show and deleted my little spotify playlist of songs that reminded me of the show. I don't want to finish my longfic where Prohyas and Flonk fell in love anymore. I can't even change it into ocs because it's just so ingrained in the show's lore. So yeah, there's that.

I'll be fine. When the news hit I took it surprisingly well. I was going to an Alestorm concert and it was the most fun I had in ages. So yeah, I've got Christopher Bowes and His Plate of Beans to fill the void of comedy music. Was fixating on Simpsons already so there's that in terms of cartoons. I'm fine.

All I can say is my heart goes out to all the victims, and I'm deeply sorry I didn't see you sooner. I hope you can heal and have some semblance of closure now that he's gotten arrested. My heart goes out to all of you and again, I am so so sorry. I wish you all the love and healing.

[miffue]

O4 LOVE COUNTDOWN — Rewind

meeting up with your ex wasn’t the best option, really. it’s late as hell, no one’s around parks this late as well, he might as be planning go kidnapping and/or murder you.

maybe you were still the desperate highschool girl. begging for closure again.

seeing that you arrived earlier than expected, you sat on swing, lightly swinging back and forth. should you text him? telling him to hurry up or just wait.

what if he doesn’t even show up? did he just wanna make you look like a fool again. maybe you’re still so stupid.

pushing those thoughts aside you go on your phone until scaramouche arrives.

hearing a voice say, “hey, i’m surprised you actually came.”

lifting your head away from your phone, you respond. “yea i know, im surprised. so what did you wanna say?”

"uh, how do i start this even. i'm sorry." scaramouche states with a nervous tone.

"that's all?" you replied in disbelief. he told you to meet up here, just to waste your time? giving you false hope?

"no no, of course not. that'd be shitty of me." he said in a panicking tone. "shit, 'm tryna find the right words right now."

you looking at him with little to no remorse in your eyes, he can't help but feel attacked under your gaze."

"i know i was a bitchy boyfriend, i know i wasn't the best to you before or during our relationship. i should've been better to you in highschool, i'm sorry. this is such a shitty apology you deserve a better one. i can't really find the right words, sorry."

"yea i understand why it'd be hard for you to give a good apology right now, but why do you keep saying i deserve better? you realize that during highschool, but you still didn't change? what's the point if you're words are empty, scaramouche?" you retorted to his apology.

looking at you in shock, he doesn't know what to say. why didn't he change? why did he keep leaving you in the dust? why did he treat you the way he did. not even he knows.

"i don't know why i couldn't treat you better and i'm sorry for it. but can we start over, please?" his voice almost breaking

after hearing his voice you can't help but feel a tinge of guilt, even if he's done you badly, you can still feel empathy for him. "i don't think we can. i can't go through that again." you replied, blinking away the tears that are forming.

"you won't thought. i promise i'll treat you right. we don't have to be in a relationship, we can take it slow. just please, let me be yours again." you can't believe it the scaramouche, no kunikuzushi, begging?

you're taken back at this not knowing what to do. weighing the pros and cons of each decision.

"i don't think i could make a decision right now. it's a lot to take in right now."

"i understand, we don't have to be official or anything. can we just talk again, like friends?" he knows he sounds desperate but, who knows when he'll get a chance like this again.

"oh uhm i guess? just know it'll be hard for me to let you in again."

his lips curl up barely to a light smirk, "i know i understand. thank you for at least accepting to talk again."

"yea."

an awkward silence follows after that, staring at your feet not knowing what else to say. looking at your phone again, you realize it's extremely late.

"hey uh, i think imma head home now. it was nice to talk again with you scaramouche." you state breaking the silence between both of you guys.

"let me walk you home?" he suggested, but the tone makes it seem like he's demanding.

"no no its okay." you dismissed him, basically running off before he could say another word.

looking at your back as you run away, he can't help but feel a little bit sad. the use of his stage name, not meeting his eyes, your actions in general. you really have pushed him away. and he can't blame anyone but himself.

SYNOPSIS you and scaramouche or kunikuzushi from 6REEZE dated in highschool but went your own ways after an argument. So when one of the members sister is apart of your friend group invites you to their concert without knowing that one of them is your ex. You’re still head over heels for him but, does he still have feelings for you?

AUTHOR'S NOTES — a lil fluffy ig.. spoiler alert!!! there will be more angst hehehe this is a slow born for a reason! also i had to write this while during class lol 😓😓😓 i gotta set my priorities straight one day sigh.. ANYWAYS!!! 3 chaps in 1 day maybe.. (jk never im too lazy for that and i have sm school work n i have a social life)

TAGLIST — @featuredtofu @brain-r0tt @saeskiss @m9rtality @sl-vega @feiherp @jayzioxx @lloovvv @vitanye @skyoverkill1 @infevious @heusalettle @faeristar @dontmindtheevie

prev | masterlist | next