#how he became the man the myth the legend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mostlycompetentwriter · 2 months

Text

Thunderous

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Werewolf AU! Royalty AU!

Warnings: There are some elements of non-con in this fanfic. Please don’t read if you don’t like those elements. Mentions of knotting and rough sex. There’s also a lot of explicit smut and language throughout.

Summary: The Wolf King’s name seared your heart. You had been chosen as the youngest and most expendable daughter to be his mate. But you were terrified of the legends surrounding his bloody campaigns. How were you going to survive?

Tag List: @armystay89 @captainchrisstan @starseekersworld @melsunshine @kibs-and-bits

The Wolf King’s name whispered through the trees and hummed between the villages like the ancient stories of the gods.

Some of the villagers claimed that he could transform—bones cracking and teeth elongating until there was no man left. They said his claws could cut through trees and that his howl silenced the instincts of the mountain lions who cowered in their dens. In place of human skin, fur sprouted thick and rough, darkening until it matched the color of the shadows.

The myth and lore had been passed down for years, and you found yourself on the receiving end of all those stories. As the Wolf King’s future mate, you had also become something of an enigma around the kingdom. People looked at you with a glint of respect, bowing their heads and moving out of your way whenever you made your rounds.

The attention that you hated. Especially when the marriage had been arranged without your willing compliance. Young girl fantasies of handsome princes and distant lands vanquished in an instant. But even if you couldn’t indulge in happiness anymore, there had been a time when you allowed yourself to dream about your wedding.

Bubbling colors of red and green—like your kingdom’s annual yuletide celebrations—and a long, flowing white gown extending across the floor like an elegant brush of paint. Pure as you had always been. There was beautiful music in your dream, and a gorgeous prince to take you into his arms and glide you across the floor like the clouds moving in the sky.

Fantasies, indeed.

Instead, of merriment and goodwill, you found yourself trembling from head to toe, holding tight to the sleeve of your handmaiden’s gown as she escorted you through the recital hall, down the aisle to where you recognized the Wolf King waiting.

You had only met him twice before. Once, when you had just turned twelve, on the day your families agreed to meet over the prospect of securing peace between your rival kingdoms.

When you were both little children, the Wolf King had no reputation. He was just a boy, and you greeted him with a smile—ignorant of the true purpose of your first meeting. While your parents talked about the future, you showed the Wolf King your favorite flowers, handing him individual stems while your mother bargained your life away:

“A union is our commitment to peace,” your mother had once proclaimed, reaching out to softly pat your curls. “We think they’ll do well together.”

“Yes.” But Chan’s mother didn’t seem convinced. She was an elegant and beautiful woman with long black hair and bright red eyes to match his defining features. “Chan will decide who he wants to marry,” his mother said.

“Y/N will make a good wife when she comes of age,” your mother insisted. “We’ll hire the best teachers to ensure that she is prepared for her duties.”

“That matters little to us,” Chan’s father spoke, and he regarded you like one might grimace at an annoying ant to step on.

You shied away from his intimidating stare, looking instead at Chan as he designed a flower crown for you, placing it on top of your head with a proud smile.

It was the last time he would ever show such kindness.

Over the years proceding your first meeting, Chan became a man, and his reputation for ruthlessness and fury ignited a storm of gossip.

“The Wolf King stands taller than the gods!”

“The Wolf King slaughtered a village because they refused to bow down to him!”

“He’s a monster! Have mercy on us all!”

You became terrified at any mention of the Wolf King, wondering if your parents were still serious about a union. You found out the hard way when your mother invited the Wolf King and his generals to your kingdom. But you didn’t stick around for very long.

The next time you met, you were sixteen, and you ran away to the gardens in a rare show of rebellion against your parents who had expected you to dress pretty and show off for Chan.

But that wasn’t in your nature, and your instincts screamed at you to avoid the Wolf King. And you thought that you were alone in the forest. Surrounded by the quiet of the thick foliage. But then you heard the bushes move, and you noticed a large black head peering at you with piercing red eyes.

You relaxed when you realized that it was just a common wolf—probably one from the mountain packs, and you weren’t frightened. Animals had always held a special place in your heart, and you approached the wolf with palms upturned to show your peaceful intentions. The wolf never moved, and you stroked your fingers through the coarse fur on his head.

You returned home that evening thinking your father would scold you for running off like that. But you were instead warmly greeted by your parents who were both ecstatic. “He agreed to marry you, Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

It wasn’t.

Not at all.

And you had never experienced real fear in your entire life. But walking down the aisle in the chapel to where the fearless Wolf King waited for you, there was a bone-chilling tremble aching down your spine.

“So beautiful,” you heard faint whispers join together, urging you closer and closer to the Wolf King who gazed at you with the most intense stare you had ever received.

When you were within earshot, the Wolf King snatched your hand from the poor handmaiden who had been helping you walk down the aisle.

The girl quickly jumped to the side, bowing her head as the Wolf King forced you to stand in front of him, reaching down for your other hand. You reluctantly gave it to him, still looking at everything except for the Wolf King’s eyes, even if the little growl he gave showed that he disapproved.

You could hear your mother’s chastising voice in your head, scolding you for not pleasing the King. But you didn’t care anymore. Wasn’t it enough that you were standing there, giving your life away to a monster?

In the distant background, you could hear the priest delivering his lines, and when it was your turn, you gave your vow of allegiance, even if the words fell hot like acid from your unwilling tongue.

Thankfully, the ceremony did not require you to kiss him, dodging his wayward lips when they fell too close to yours.

There was a rush when the proceedings concluded, the firm ushering of hands leading you out of the chapel. You stumbled in your heels, bringing yourself inadvertently closer to the Wolf King who held tighter to your waist. You did not enjoy the closeness, swallowing down your nerves as you tried not to think about what came next.

The crowd eventually parted, giving you enough space to walk down the steps in the open air, briefly acknowledging the cheering crowd spread through the streets. There was a distinct awe in the noise from the people around you, clambering over one another to get a good like at yourself and the predator who would soon claim you for his own. Wanting to acquaint themselves with your kingdom’s bargaining chip—a small sacrifice to ensure an alliance between your people and the ones who fought under Chan’s domain.

On paper, it seemed like a worthy solution to helping your kingdom protect its borders and fight off invaders. The problem was that you felt the weight of pleasing a man you had no interest in—someone who frightened you to your core. A sick knot tightened in your guts and your stomach clenched tighter as Chan led you to Castle Miroh—the notorious landmark of his territory symbolizing the power of the ruling family.

As the main doors parted, you winced at the sensation of the cold and harsh air inside, and a shiver passed down your spine as you forced yourself to keep up with Chan’s incessant pace, footsteps clacking against marble. It was dark in the corridors, and the only lighting came from the flames ensconced along the walls, casting everything in shadows. Ahead in the distance, you could see the outline of a grand staircase, and your eyes worked tirelessly to mark each step on your darkened path.

It turned out that Chan kept his quarters on the highest floor, latching your fingers together the entire time, even as you forced down the bile permanently hitched at the back of your throat at the thought of all the blood that had stained those hands.

At the top of the staircase, you were pulled to the left, marching down an impressive corridor with a soft, velvet carpet beneath your soles. Eventually, you found yourself in front of a large, wooden door, and Chan ushered you through the frame, a hand to your lower back as your eyes paused on the King-sized bed waiting beneath an unholy painting of a bloody battle scene.

You will present yourself to the Wolf King, you recalled the words of your tutor. He will expect obedience from his mate.

You blinked away tears, knowing what you were expected to do next, and deciding to push through your nerves before you lost the contents of your stomach on the floor. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, but you ignored your instincts, loosening the straps of your dress to allow it to pool into a mess on the floor at your feet, and kicking it aside as you eliminated the remaining distance to the bed.

You didn’t want to show him that you were weak. That he had any sort of influence that might condemn you a coward. You could not be seen as pathetic in the eyes of a monster, crawling on hands and knees to the center of the bed, head ducked down between your trembling arms and waiting.

Your breath caught when the bed dipped beneath his weight, and you gritted your teeth, feeling his hands take your hips with a powerful grip, nails digging into the soft skin.

The Wolf King will fuck you, your tutor had said, Then he will bite you to complete the mating ritual.

You had seen the Wolf King’s teeth. Sharp like razors and pointed at the ends. You would be a bloody mess at the end of this, but no one could ever accuse you of shirking your responsibilities. You had done everything expected of you, holding on to this thought of solace as you waited for him to take his fill.

“Don’t,” he abruptly whispered, startling you as he laid down on the mattress at your side, closing his eyes and letting out a grumble, completely unbothered with his own nakedness.

It must’ve happened while you were turned away, but it was still jarring to see so much pale skin on display, marred with jagged scars and scarlet bruises. Eyes trailing over the swell of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and down to this impressive cock.

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No,” Chan said, chest deflating. “You do not want that.”

His response surprised you, and you wanted nothing more than to hurriedly tuck the sheet around your body to hide you from him. “I thought you were meant to-”

“We are equals,” Chan interrupted with a much firmer tone. “And you are afraid.”

Equals? The word didn’t seem right coming from him, but you weren’t about to question what was seemingly amounting to an act of mercy. Quick as a flash, you had the sheet bundled against your chest, eyes wide as you looked him over. “The mating-”

“We can do the bite,” Chan continued as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t fulfilling the only purpose you had been given. “But in the morning. The celebrations earlier exhausted me. Such frivolous trivialities.”

“Won’t they notice-”

“Who are they?” Chan barked with a hint of a growl that had you flinching. “There is no one who orders the King around.”

His dark pupils met yours in the dark, searching for something. You swallowed hard, unsure what he was looking for, but focusing on the calming sensation of relief flooding your system at his unexpected mercy. “Thank you.”

He gave a curt nod, dipping his head to the space next to him. “Sleep.”

You obeyed, wondering if you could sleep next to him, even if he had shown you some degree of kindness. It still didn’t erase his bloody reputation, and it worried you to no end that you would be sleeping next to a killer. Born to fight his way to power and rule over his kind.

You took a deep breath, holding tight to the sheet, and closing your eyes. Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions weighing down on you from the day’s events, but you did manage to find sleep, even if it was troubled. Nightmares of wolves following you through the woods, red irises piercing you from the shelter of the trees, and claws slicing through flesh.

You gasped when your eyes sprung open against an onslaught of bright, morning light, heart palpitating in your chest when you met those same eyes looking down at you from above. Chan was a step ahead of you as if he could predict your movements, grabbing your hands in one of his own to hold them above your head. One of his powerful thighs slung across your lower body, holding you in place with a strength that ignited a fire of burning adrenaline.

“Hold still,” he said, giving you no other warning before teeth sank into the side of your neck, and your body panicked, fighting against him. Like he might take a chunk out of your neck and leave you on the bed to bleed out. Crimson against the cream-colored sheets.

Immediately, a pulsating shock erupted from the site of the wound, forcing a scream from between your lips at the overwhelming pain. “I know,” he said, and it was barely discernible over the sounds of your cries, unashamed to lose all inhibitions at the sensation of a pain you had never experienced before.

The Wolf King moved over top of you, and you flinched when you felt his tongue start to lap at the painful bite mark on your shoulder. “The pain will stop soon,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

You held back a whine, digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms. You supposed he had helped the sting, but it still felt like a piece of glass was being sliced across your skin. Even if the guilt and remorse in his gaze were almost enough to distract you.

“Relax,” he soothed, releasing your hands which instinctively went to wipe at your eyes, drying the salty wetness that had accumulated.

“I- I can’t...”

“You can because you are mine now,” he declared in a tone that had a different flame sparking in your chest.

You nodded against the pain, focusing on taking deep breaths, and letting darkness take you under once more.

When you woke again, the King was ready for you. He explained that you were needed in the Throne Room to meet some important people. It turned out that the King had three brothers. They were all younger than him. Or so you had been told.

Their names were Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Feared and revered for their triumphs in battle.

Your Wolf King seemed proud to show them off, standing before you in an organized line: from oldest to youngest.

Felix reminded you of your own cousins, with his lithe figure, so much different from the King’s own bulk, and a head of flaming orange-red hair.

Next to him, in the middle, stood Seungmin. Dressed in dark clothes that only made his already dark hair even more onyx-black. Bright green eyes appraising you slowly.

Finally, there was Jeongin. The tallest of the three. And sporting the same dark-colored hair as his middle brother. He seemed to be the most innocent, eyes wide with wonder.

“They are here to support you,” Chan went on after introductions had passed. “Call on them if you need any help.”

Unlikely, but you forced a nod nonetheless.

“You are dismissed,” Chan informed them after you gave your acquiescence, and you watched them retreat in the same formation down the hall.

In their stead approached a shorter man, dressed in full battle attire. Well-muscled to stretch the fabric of his shirt and pants, with serious dark eyes. “My King,” the man said, bowing once. “You are needed on the training fields.”

You flinched when the man’s eyes found your neck, likely noting the swollen mess that Chan had left behind. “I’ll be there shortly, Changbin,” Chan said, and he waited until the man was gone before looking at you. “The Castle is yours, my Queen. Feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

“I will,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay still when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Tonight, we can eat together,” came his parting words, and you grimaced at the idea of sharing a meal with him.

But the concept of sharing a meal with him was nowhere near as horrible as the idea that this place could ever be considered your home. What a nasty thought! This place was nothing more than a prison forced upon you because your parents were desperate for Chan’s allegiance.

“Why did he agree?” you huffed to yourself, spinning on your heel to start the trek back to your room—as much as you could remember. “Leaving me here as if I know where anything is!”

For months leading up to your shared nuptials, you had pondered the reason why the powerful Wolf King had even agreed to marry you in the first place. Neither of your meetings had been particularly impactful, and your Kingdom had nothing to benefit his own; in fact, your alliance was more of a detriment to Chan and his people—a burden that he willingly took on.

You turned the corner to the last corridor, grateful that you had managed to retrace your steps, faltering when you noticed something on the floor outside of your door. You kneeled to retrieve it, glancing at the writing and noting with a happy hum that it was addressed from the Northern Highlands!

“Grace!” you exclaimed, clutching the envelope to your chest as you quickly rushed inside your room, glancing back to ensure the door was locked before hopping onto the bed to rip the contents open.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on your marriage to Bang Chan - it will be a strong alliance for our parents and their Kingdom.

I apologize for my absence - Hyunjin was unable to make the accommodations.

As you know, snowfall comes to the Highlands in the upcoming months. It will soon be impossible for me to journey to you, or for you to make the journey here. I’d love to see you and your new husband before it is difficult to do so.

Please write to me when you can to arrange a visit.

Lovingly,

Grace

You read over the letter twice before releasing a deep sigh. Would your Wolf King even indulge in such a trip? Perhaps it wasn’t even necessary for him to go. You could make the trip on your own.

You held fast to that thought, of getting away from your prison even if only for a few days, as you lounged around in your room for the remainder of the day. There was little to entertain yourself with, re-reading Grace’s letter over and over again, and sitting outside on the little veranda attached to your room to watch the clouds moving in the sky.

It would be another mercy to escape Chan’s presence if you were to head North alone, but you were afraid that you were pushing your luck, wincing when you heard the door to your chambers opening again, returning inside from your observation of the grounds to greet Chan as you were expected to do.

“My queen,” he rumbled, reaching out to hold your shoulders between both hands, a grip that was impossible to mistake. “Were you able to see more of the Castle?”

“Yes,” you lied through clenched teeth, only breathing a little easier when he released you, eyes dropping to the letter in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It is from my sister,” you explained.

“I see.”

“She wasn’t able to attend the wedding,” you went on, saving yourself a bit of time as you scrambled for the best way to drop the news to him. Maybe it would just be best to try a blunt approach, giving him your demands since he insisted on calling you an equal. “I wish to see my sister,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Before it is too dangerous to make the trip to the Northern Highlands.”

Chan grunted at your request, and you weren’t well-versed in his language to know what that meant. “She invited you?”

“I can go alone,” you said. “If it is too much for you.”

“I would love to come with you,” he said, disregarding the determination in your tone. “It will give us more time to spend together on our own.”

“Oh.” Your gaze remained trained on the floor, hopes dashed that you could leave him behind.

“It will be nice to visit there,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You may write her back to expect us very soon.”

“As you wish,” you sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from your tone, flinching when he grabbed one of your wrists. He didn’t seem perturbed by your reaction, and you watched as he pulled a delicate piece of jewelry from his pocket.

“Well?” he smiled, something that made you shiver. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” you asked in return, resisting the urge to pull back the wrist clasped between his scarred fingers. Even if you did manage to finally meet his gaze.

“It is a gift for you,” Chan said with a smile you were not expecting—blinding and warm. “I made it myself.”

“You made this?”

“As our traditions dictate,” he agreed, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to clasp the little bracelet around your delicate flesh. “It is meant to show our bond to the world.”

You studied it curiously, noting the simple design and the small wolf-shaped carvings engraved in the metal. It was cold against your skin, even as the heat from his body balanced it out.

“Shall we eat?”

He dropped your wrist, and you were able to gather your bearings. “Of course.” You managed a nod, watching as he opened the door wide, allowing a small servant girl to enter the room.

The girl offered you both a respectful bow before she started to set the table, laying out silverware and fine china plates. Behind her, another girl rolled in a cart, wheels squealing on the floor, with prepared food steaming from beneath metal lids.

“Here, sit with me,” Chan said, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Until they are ready.”

You obeyed, sitting down next to him. Your gaze remained trained on the servant girls, moving about in a well-rehearsed manner as if they had done this too many times to count.

He reached for your hand, and you did your best not to flinch. “Look,” he whispered, urging you to follow his gaze. “This line on your hand, do you see the way it moves?”

You shivered as he traced the mark he referred to, following it up and down the length of your palm. “Yes,” you whispered, struck by the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Goosebumps followed the trail he left on your wrist, and you held your breath when he brought it to his lips. “The same as mine,” he said, almost reverently. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as he aligned your hands together. “A perfect match.”

You could hardly believe it, eyes searching back and forth, but seeing the same line digging into both of your skin. Like it belonged there.

“There are reasons for everything,” he said, and you felt a small flicker of shame when you read his knowing gaze as if he could sense those dark thoughts that you sheltered about him—wondering why you out of everyone in the world had been chosen to stand at his side. “I wouldn’t question so much,” he continued. “The things that fall into place so perfectly.”

He offered you a wink, surprisingly playful for a man of his reputation. “Let’s eat.”

You nodded, the most you could, and followed him to the table. He was polite as always, allowing you to pick first, waiting until your first bite before claiming his own. You were content, at that moment, to answer the questions he threw your way, increasingly aware of the way the place he had touched warming and the mark on your neck drummed in a gentle pulse.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and there was less trepidation in your soul when you lay with Chan to sleep.

You journeyed to the Highlands the next morning, riding behind Chan on horseback, leaving the Wolves’ imposing Castle behind. There was a lightness about you as distance added more miles to your ride, growing brighter and brighter the further you traveled. Even with light conversation petering between you and Chan, you had never been freer in your entire life, the wind blowing back your hair as you soared across the plains.

Despite his repeated requests for you to take a break, you were determined to make it to your sister’s palace before nightfall. You wanted to see her outside, in the meadows that spread invitingly across the Highlands, and walk together just the two of you as you did as children.

There was excitement spiking hot adrenaline in your veins when the hills opened up in the distance, revealing a gorgeous mountain Castle with imposing towers and the familiar flags of your sister’s powerful family. She belonged to Hyunjin, taking his name and crest, and it made you sad to realize that there was a greater distance between you both. You loosened your grip on Chan’s waist, not realizing your grip on him.

You had grown tired of being around him, constantly blinded by the weight of his shadow. At least out here, with the sun beaming down from above, you could feel great relief from the pressure lightening. Perhaps there should be shame associated with your actions, but as soon as you could identify a familiar shape up ahead, you were already leaping from the horse despite Chan’s protests.

Thankfully, your sister was there to greet you, surrounded by two guards. Immediately, you jumped from your steed, falling into her arms and inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Grace,” you squealed, keeping her held tight to you as if it would be the last time you could ever do so.

“Y/N,” she sing-songed back, and you smiled at her playful attitude, only growing a little despondent when you detected Chan’s approach from behind.

“Hello,” she greeted Chan with a polite bow. “It is an honor to welcome you to the Northern Highlands.”

“Your palace is beautiful,” Chan complimented, and you shivered when he drew fingers down the length of your spine—a show of affection that you would never get used to experiencing.

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to gaze back at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It has centuries of history.”

“I have heard the tales,” Chan remarked. “From when I was a boy.”

You tried not to snort, not wanting to relive any memories of Chan from his boyhood. Grace’s careful eyes, however, seemed to detect something, and she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Well, I can show you to your quarters.”

“No need, I’m sure one of your guards will know the way. I think Y/N has been waiting for some time with you. I’ll leave you both alone,” he said, even without your prompting, and your sister gave you a familiar smile.

“As you wish,” she said with a little curtsy, beckoning a guard forward with stern orders to help the Wolf King settle in while you and Grace took a stroll of the grounds.

You held your breath, not wanting your impatience to show as the arrangements were made. Only once Chan had started in the direction of the Castle, guards following him closely, did you exhale. Reaching for Grace’s hand, and tugging her forward.

“No need to drag me!” Grace chuckled at your actions, and she linked your arms together, steering you toward the familiar meadows.

You both settled into easy conversation as it always seemed to happen, topics flowing from one to another. There was a lot to catch up on, things left unsaid from your sad exchange of letters. Rumors swirling around the highlands, and stories from your own homeland that you consumed greedily, excited for any mention of your little Kingdom.

Even if you didn’t really belong to it anymore.

You wanted to walk forever, to keep going beyond the highlands. Escaping to a distant land with just you and Grace. A place where you could both live in peace and go about your days just chatting and reading together by the fireplace as you did when you were children.

She laughed at your complaints, forcing you to return to the Castle when the sun had started to set. Thankfully, you didn’t go all the way inside just yet, and the two of you sat down at one of the picnic tables in the gardens. As you settled next to Grace, bowing politely to the maids who brought you both a cup of tea, you frowned as you recognized Chan between the hedges, strolling along with Hyunjin, Grace’s King, down the trodden paths between the mazes.

You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the moment you had with your sister. The setting sun was warm as you reclined your head, eyes closed as you accepted the gracious touch—burning just as hot as your sister’s intense stare.

“Do you have something to say?” you huffed. “I can feel you looking at me.”

Her smile was clear in her tone. “You just seem...different.”

“How so?”

“Like you’ve been tamed.”

Your eyes flew open at the comment, glaring at her. “Stuck in an arranged marriage, you mean?”

“Mine was arranged as well, but you can rest assured that I don’t take the same comfort from my particular suitor.”

“I hardly take comfort from the Wolf King,” you argued, but Grace simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen things as I do.”

“What’s so bad about Hyunjin anyway?” you asked instead, to direct the conversation away from Chan,

Her smile curdled. “He keeps busy with his whores,” she said, shocking you with such an accusation.

“Grace-”

“Don’t.” Your sister sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She attempted to restore her previous smile, looking back over your shoulder with a sigh. “I like your Wolf King,” she eventually said. “He cares about you a lot. I haven’t seen him take his eyes away from you once.”

Grace must be imagining things. “He’s tolerable at best,” you decided, earning yourself a sigh from your sister.

“My how your perspective has changed,” she remarked, finally turning her attention to the lukewarm tea in front of her. “You were kicking and screaming when you first learned of the marriage.”

“It is something that was forced on me!”

“But you’re not the only one, Y/N,” Grace said with a tone filled with sadness.

Suddenly, you felt chastened and guilty for even protesting her. “For us both, it has created nothing but discomfort.”

“I think there is potential in your match,” Grace argued. “You resist because you are stubborn in nature, but I think there could be good things for you if you just tried to make it work. Wouldn’t it be better, sister, to live with him as lovers than as cold strangers?”

“He is too wild for marriage,” you weakly protested. But your argument held no merit, and you hated the logic in her words, turning away to glare into the distance.

Night passed before your eyes, like the dimmest flicker, and you had never been more unhappy to greet the rising sun.

It seemed that all good things inevitably came to an end, and you were holding back tears when you parted from Grace the next morning, holding the embrace for far too long. Even as you allowed Chan to help you back onto the horse, positioned directly behind him on the saddle, you kept your gaze trained behind you, watching Grace grow smaller and smaller.

Until she was gone.

Your heart was heavy when you returned to Chan’s castle that same afternoon, but your foul mood didn’t last for long. Distracted as you were, surprised by the bustling activities throughout the grounds, everyone scrambling for something you couldn’t identify. “Our moon festival,” Chan explained. “We will be shifting tonight.”

Oh, right. You had forgotten about that part, too distraught reminiscing on your brief moment of freedom with Grace. “I almost forgot.”

“There will be a feast tonight,” he explained. “We will both join as King and Queen.”

You scowled at the idea. “As you wish.”

Chan frowned at the comment. “You must be tired from the journey,” he continued, choosing not to react to your passive comment. “Feel free to rest in our quarters. I will come get you later.”

You agreed with a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. Sleep did sound like a much-needed relief from the exhaustion threatening each unsteady step you took up the stairs. It was what you blamed your disorientation on, barely noticing when Chan leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That same spot burned under the barely-there attention. But you chose to ignore it, instead focusing on how your feet were throbbing when you landed on top of your bed with a huff, allowing tears to escape as you gave yourself a moment to purge the nasty emotions that had built after leaving the Highlands. Unable to do so as you rode behind Chan.

There were too many different emotions piled on throughout the day, mixing with a heady combination of your exhaustion from traveling. Countless thoughts also swirled through your head, and it was inevitable that you would fall under, losing yourself to the easy promise of sleep. An easier task than grappling with your conflicted feelings.

Darkness greeted you like an old friend, and your dreams were wild. One moment you were back with Grace, strolling through the meadows. The next, you found yourself in an empty forest, shadows chasing each breath evaporating on cold air, ensnared by a pair of red eyes in the thick foliage.

You stumbled on the undergrowth, falling backward ungracefully. You only had the wherewithal to put a hand over your face, trying to block everything out, as those eyes descended on you. Fear caught in your throat, and it was the lasting image that haunted you as you jerked upright in bed, barely withholding a scream when those same eyes met you in the real world.

“Y/N.”

Chan’s voice was deep, guttural in its intensity, and filled with concern. You flinched when fingers came out to gently remove sweaty bangs from your eyes, heart thunderous inside your chest. His hand paused in its motions, and for a fleeting second, you thought you might drown in his stare.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Bad dreams.”

“I see.”

There was a question in his tone, but you didn’t know how to provide an answer, choosing instead to gently push his hand away. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. “If you’re certain...”

You studied him for a moment, wishing that you could confide in him. But there was still a great distance between you, perhaps put there by your own accord, but heavy in its existence. “I shall get ready.”

Chan allowed you the space, agreeing to meet you in the hallway as you rose to get dressed, finding the dress that had been laid out for you by the maids. You slipped the fabric over your body, shivering as the silkiness slid across your skin like a lover’s caress.

True to his word, Chan was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, and you hesitated before taking the outstretched hand offered to you. Unprepared for when it pulled you in closer, under the scrutiny of his affectionate gaze. “Beautiful,” he declared, nostrils flaring as if taking in the scent of the perfume you sprayed.

“Thank you,” you offered in return, choosing to keep silent as he led the way, helping you down the stairs in your heels.

For once, you willingly stayed close to Chan, especially as you approached the Great Hall where the festivities would take place. Chan led you into the dining room, perhaps a bit too hastily, uneasy with the weight of his people’s stares boring down upon your figure. Dressed simply in that white gown—pure, as you had always remained—and looking entirely out of place amongst battle-hardened soldiers.

You caught Changbin’s stare from across the room as you sat at the head of the table next to the King. There was lust in his gaze. And it deeply unsettled you, to the point that even Chan caught your shiver.

He followed your gaze to Changbin who looked away at once. “Tradition says that the King can share his mate,” Chan whispered. “But I will not share you with him. So he can only look.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything in return. “I didn’t know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chan stood, addressing the room. “Let’s feast together, comrades! We run together at the moon’s highest cycle!”

A chorus of cheers and howls greeted his words, and everyone started to fill their plates, easy conversation flowing between the wolves like the smell of the delicious-looking platters laid out before you. Still, your stomach revolted, swimming in circles as you picked at the helping Chan had served you. You wrinkled your nose when his grease-stained fingers brought a piece of chicken to your lips, and you forced yourself to take it from him.

Chan sighed as you chewed, forcing the morsel down your throat as it stung. “I won’t be with you tonight, of course. We will likely stay out in the moonlight until dawn. But I will return in the morning.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Some time to yourself seemed nice. And you weren’t keen on being outside when they were no longer human.

“You don’t have to be miserable here, my Queen,” Chan suddenly said, tone taking on a hardened edge. Perhaps the first time he had ever sounded stern with you. “Wolves mate for life, and they choose their partners seriously”

You contemplated his words, chosen ever so carefully. “I - I will try,” you managed, recalling Grace’s advice from the previous day.

To live as lovers rather than strangers.

He hummed at your agreement, eyes glued to your form as he appraised you with something akin to curiosity. “Don’t roam so far from the castle tonight. It isn’t dangerous, but it is your first time. Of course, there’s usually nothing to fear in the gardens.”

There was a layered hint in his words, but you chose not to think about it too much, simply nodding your head as you resumed your task of picking at your food. There was nothing wrong with the offering in front of you, but your newfound uneasiness mixed with your emotional charge from earlier—it had not yet completely dispelled itself from your system—left an unpleasant ache in your chest.

As if something was missing…

Later that night, long after the wolves left the castle, you realized you couldn’t sleep even if you tried, listening to the chorus of howls from outside the castle walls. They rang through the night, loud and clear, and harmonized with one another as if perfectly in sync. Perhaps they were since Chan and his wolves shared a tight bond, and you wondered what it must be like to be so perfectly in tune with one another.

It was these thoughts that plagued you, and even as midnight came and went, you grew more restless. You resolved to walk through the castle, to quell your thoughts and ease your mind. Even as your footsteps echoed through the halls, you found yourself becoming more awake instead of the opposite effect.

Fresh air would be nice, you thought until you remembered the wolves outside. But then again, Chan did promise you that the gardens would be safe. You could trust him, right? Or was that the problem? Your lack of trust in someone meant to be your partner.

You resolved yourself in that moment to try. And if that meant venturing out into the gardens, then no one could accuse you of being silent and passive. This was your attempt at trying, and if it ended badly, then you would have all the more leverage to ignore him.

However, despite your attempts to steel your resolve, you found your heart beating impossibly fast when you greeted the moonlight outside. Each lungful of air that you forced down your lungs felt like sharp knives attacking your flesh. Gaze swimming in front of you, footsteps unsteady as you entered the hedge maze surrounding the gardens.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the foliage. There was a strange air of peace surrounding you, and that was all the solace you needed to keep going, admiring the way the colors of the blooming flowers bled in a different light. It was easy to grow distracted by the sight, as beautiful as it was, and perhaps you could blame your wandering eye for failing to adequately identify the rustling of something large in the undergrowth of the forest.

You hummed to yourself, leaning down to run your fingers over the soft petals of a rose. Its usual red was subdued somehow, under the moon’s glow, and you smiled at the effect, completely ignorant of a different red seeping through the hedges near your right.

It wasn’t until a gentle whimper sounded that you jerked to a stop, hand fluttering to cover your chest as you whipped around to locate the source of the sound. And what stood before you, as powerful as the looming mountains above the castle, nearly had you falling to your knees.

Except, you realized upon a second cursory glance, that there was something uncannily familiar about the beast in front of you, and it only took you another moment to make the connection. A gasp fell from your lips when you realized that it was the wolf from your childhood—the one you had found that day Chan visited your home for the second time. The one you played with in the gardens. The one you spent time with just talking and believing it was nothing more than a common wolf.

You stumbled then, recognizing the now familiar crimson eyes looking back at you—the same ones that belonged to your husband. The wolf, your Wolf King, butted his giant head against your outstretched hand, giving an affectionate lick to your fingertips.

“I understand,” you whispered, unable to decipher the emotion in your voice, but one thing that you knew for certain—there was a clear absence of fear. Because you had never feared this wolf, always approaching it with happiness, completely ignorant of its true state.

The wolf gave you a meaningful look, and you were struck by the humanness of the gesture. Understanding dawned on you—Chan had always known. He had always known it was you—the one his wolf had chosen. The girl who had never shown fear to a beast that others considered a monster.

You had known Chan for your entire life without even realizing it, and your eyes welled with tears, watching him toss back his head and release a spine-curdling howl. One that was joined by a chorus of beautiful melodic cries, merging and joining together, and reaching down to your very bones.

You dropped to your knees then—a mere speck before the Wolf. You cried without fear, and this time, the tension between you and your King vanished like the stars in the night sky when dawn cracked across the horizon.

Three Months Later

On most mornings, Chan was gone before you woke up, and that left you with a disconcerting feeling of disappointment. You supposed there was much to do for the King of the Castle, but lately, it made you ache for something you couldn’t quite discern.

For the past several months, you found yourself opening up to the Wolf King in ways you would’ve never imagined. The truth of who he was, the Wolf from your childhood, along with Grace’s well-intentioned advice, had managed to crack through the stoic guard you had raised from the moment you bound yourself to him.

He taught you about the bond—how, even if you weren’t a Wolf and couldn’t experience the same emotions, he could feel each flicker of happiness or stroke of sadness as it moved through you.

You had not known of this connection before—because of your stubborn nature—and you would always regret resisting it. But things were better, and you could see the beauty in the bond and how truly spectacular it was to feel and understand another person so intimately. It made you wonder—for longer and longer periods of time—just how deep you could make that bond.

Curiosity weighed heavy on you, and your eyes cracked open at a gentle knocking on the door—an opportunity presenting itself when you recognized a familiar servant girl entering your room. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, and you nodded in return.

At first, you had kept yourself closed off to the other maids, but this one in particular, Ivy, had been insistent. It was hard to deny her, especially when she became your best teacher, indulging you in learning everything related to the wolves and their way of life.

She was also quite willing and open to help you with anything, even if it involved the more intimate parts of your relationship with the Wolf King. You brought it up again that morning, growing more and more confident, especially since Ivy was completely shameless when it came to that sort of thing.

“I thought about your words from the other night,” you opened the conversation, watching as she put your breakfast down onto the table.

“You’ll have to remind me.” There was a teasing note in her tone, and you glowered at the playful look she shot in your direction.

“We spoke about the King,” you said. “You told me things…what I can do to please him.”

“I remember.” She took a step closer, and you were wary of the look in her eyes. “Does he not fuck you well?” Ivy asked, and her tone was absent of the same filter that would stop your tongue.

Still, you were embarrassed, looking down at your feet, wondering how to disguise the truth. “It doesn’t feel good when it seems like he just uses me to get himself off.”

That much was true as you had heard Chan masturbating next to you on countless nights, and your name often fell free from his lips.

“I see.” Ivy nodded. “He doesn’t know better. He was taught that a good alpha fucks his mate and makes sure that she is pregnant for him.”

You winced at her blunt explanation. “Is that all...wolves need?”

“Not necessarily,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “I can teach you...if you want.”

“Teach me?” you asked, gasping when Ivy placed a hand on your chest, forcing you to fall back on the bed.

She was all smiles when she crawled into your lap, grabbing your hands and securing them to her waist. You gasped when she started rocking her hips into your own, feeling the pleasant ache resonate up and down your spine. “The most important lesson of them all,” Ivy said with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “The art of seduction.”

“I - Ivy...”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Ivy interrupted your ramblings, leaning down so that the tips of your noses brushed together. “Would you like that? Seducing your wolf? Driving him to the point where he can’t resist taking you?”

You moaned around your response. “Yes! Please show me.”

Her hips rocked harder into yours, and you could see white forming at the edges of your vision. “Leave it to me.”

And you did, surrendering to her touches, and the wicked way she showed you all the ways to drive a King mad.

The following night, you bravely waited for your Wolf King to return from patrol, wearing nothing but a sheer robe that left little to the imagination. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you caught each breath as it rattled between your lungs. Nervousness eating away at your resolve and leaving the poor skin around your cuticles abused by your touch.

Ivy’s advice rang clear in your mind as if she were there with you, holding your hands between her own as she taught you how to please the King. You blushed at the memory, hands covering the bare skin beneath your robe, caressing the delicate flesh as she had done the night before. Demonstrating to you the best ways to please a man, and to make him beg for you.

That kind of power held its curious appeal, and you thought about it constantly. Wondering what it would be like to make Chan lose his mind to the sin of your smell and touch. You could hardly wait, bouncing your leg and jostling the flimsy material of your coverings.

Thankfully, your Wolf King didn’t make you wait for very long, punctual as always in these recent times of peace in joining you during the evenings. The easy smile he always offered you vanished as soon as he closed the door behind him, eyes locked on your figure clad in so very little.

“Be assertive.” You recalled Ivy’s words, and you stood on shaky legs to take a few tentative steps towards him. The implication was not lost in translation. You could barely get out a greeting before Chan was on you in seconds, gently pushing you back against the wall. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, initiating the first indulgent kiss that lit a fire that you felt down to the tips of your toes.

“Then have me,” you said against the purse of his mouth, tongue tracing that full bottom lip. His gaze widened perceptibly, holding you at arm's length.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me the way you want,” you replied. “I’m ready. You love me, don’t you?”

The intensity in that gaze you had started to yearn for burned even brighter. “You know that I love you Y/N, and I understand why it would be hard for you to believe. I’m more than willing to take this chance to show you.”

He pulled away despite the tight grip you kept on his powerful bicep. Even so, you kept your eyes open as wide as possible to enjoy the scene playing out in front of you when he kissed you again. You curled your fingers into his thick black hair, remembering Ivy’s advice, and pulled his mouth against yours, crushing your lips to his. Chan’s chest rumbled as he kissed you fiercely in return, grabbing onto your arms as his tongue plundered the hot cavern of your mouth.

Your lungs screamed in protest, and you pulled away suddenly, shivering at his resounding whimper. You opened your eyes, keeping your hands in his hair to hold it back from his crimson orbs. You found the lust there, making his eyes appear darker. “It’s so hard for me to do this,” you said softly. “I- I want to please you…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan replied. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt something hard against your stomach. “Y/N,” Chan murmured, leaning into your neck to inhale deeply. “I want you more than anything else.”

You shivered as you felt his other hand come to the sleeve of your gown, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingertips slid across your skin, weakening your resolve. His lips followed his touch, peppering soft kisses along the exposed skin. He tugged on the fabric more and you felt the fabric at your right breast start to fall, slowly exposing the flesh to him. His blazing eyes looked down at what he had uncovered, as his hand moved up to hold your breast in his palm. You moaned when his thumb started to rub against your nipple, growing alarmed at the sudden ache between your legs. Like before, his lips soon replaced his fingers and you cried out when he gently nipped the sensitive skin.

He suddenly tugged the fabric back up, releasing your wrists so that he could have both hands when he grabbed the sides of your robe and tugged it aside to reveal your bare skin to him. Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved up and down to match each of your panting breaths. Clad in the lingerie Ivy had helped you pick out the previous night.

Chan’s eyes were glued to your bare torso. With a moan of his own, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he trailed his mouth down, over the soft skin of your throat, down your chest, and between the valley of your breasts, over your smooth stomach down to the top of your lace panties. Looking up at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, Chan started to tug the fabric down your legs.

Clenching your fists against the wall, you couldn’t begin to describe what you felt when he pressed a kiss against the front of your panties, holding your thighs in his strong hands. Standing back up to his full height, he pulled his shirt off next, tossing it onto the floor. You breathed out deeply as your eyes greedily took in the sight of his muscled torso. Timidly, you reached out a hand, aware of his eyes watching your movements as you hovered your palm over his firm abdomen. “Touch him with your fingertips,” Ivy’s words whispered against your ear. He groaned, bracing his arms on either side of you, moving his head against the wall next to your ear. You heard Chan’s husky voice whisper: “Baby, please touch me.”

Your eyes fluttered at his request, and you placed both palms on his hard stomach, moving them up and feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hands danced across his pectorals, rising along with the muscles. You moved your palms over his shoulders and then back down, pausing when you hit the top of his pants. Before you could muster up the courage to move any lower, Chan’s lips were back on yours, kissing you senseless. You wrapped your arms around his neck, working your mouth against his, feeling your lips become swollen from his kisses. As your tongues touched, you felt Chan’s hands return to your thighs, lifting them so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Holding you against him, he carried you into over to the bed to deposit you on top. You missed his warmth as soon as he was gone and opened your eyes to meet his black gaze.

This was your chance. You remembered Ivy’s words and scrambled to get in position. Present. The command burned its way through your whole being as if you had no control over it. Instead, you turned on your hands and knees, arching your back and keeping your ass held high in the air.

You had never done this before, and you felt so exposed, but at the same time so good, so right, and you restrained yourself from trying to cover up against the shameless crimson stare watching you.

Suddenly, all went quiet, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. The Wolf King was staring at your ass, his mouth slightly agape. “Good girl,” was all you heard before Chan dove down abruptly to taste your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue all the way up to the source of the wetness leaking from you with a single, hot swipe, before latching on and sucking eagerly at the sensitive skin around your opening.

You keened at the sensation and shivered at his satisfied grunts and moans as he took his fill of your taste. It made you want to please him. To do whatever it took to make him completely lose his mind.

“Chan!” You moaned out, reaching beneath him to flick at your neglected clit. “More!”

Your demand did not go unanswered. With a grunt, Chan yanked your ass up higher for a better angle, digging his hands into the plush flesh of your hips. His touch was rough, and strong, undoubtedly leaving marks behind, but you absolutely loved it. And when the wiggling muscle of his tongue finally pushed inside, you cried out in absolute bliss and pleasure. Time itself seemed to slow down as that tongue relentlessly moved inside you, searching for that spot that could make you see stars and, once found, pressing down hard. Again and again, Chan dipped inside with his tongue, and each time you moaned for him. It didn’t take you long until your body tensed and shuddered, squeezing around the intrusion as you rode out your orgasm.

With a satisfied groan, Chan released your hips, and you collapsed on your stomach, still aching for him.

You attempted to look back at Chan, groaning when you realized he was pushing down his pants and underwear, freeing his stiffening cock before crawling back over you. You were met with a flurry of kisses, on your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, before his tongue trailed lazily over your chest and down to the delicate curls damp from your release.

You squirmed under him as he held himself up on his arms, dragging his eyes unbearably slow from your face and down to your toes. He moved one finger down over your stomach, and you watched it enter the forest of blonde curls around your center. Panting, and nearing combustion, you found yourself instinctively thrusting your hips up, begging him for more than just touches. Growling, he practically shoved your hips back to the bed, reaching down and jerking his thick cock with rough strokes. He abruptly flipped you over onto your back, craning his neck to look down into your eyes. “Let me make love to you, Y/N.”

His words sent a flurry of heat straight to your core. You had never had sex before, but you wanted it desperately. You told him as much and could see him visibly shaking. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing your lips tenderly, before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance. You closed your eyes and winced as he pushed into you. Pliant and soft from his earlier ministrations, the bulbous head found little resistance as it breached your cunt.

You could feel his face bury itself into your shoulder, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding, as if it was taking everything he had to go this slow. Once he was buried inside of you completely, you groaned, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. You could feel him still above you, and his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to flip you over and fuck you senseless.”

His words, as crude as they were, only served to heighten your arousal. “Move,” you said, grabbing his black hair and pulling his face to yours. You kissed him quickly. “I’m fine.”

He needed no further encouragement, as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. You could see the sweat breaking out across his forehead from the exertion, causing strands of his hair to stick to his forehead. His right hand moved behind you to grip the headboard as his hips slowly rocked against your own. As good as it felt, you could see he was about to lose it. “Faster,” you told him, and he complied, speeding up his thrusts and allowing some of the tension to escape his body. It was a little painful, especially when he let out a low growl and really started grinding his hips.

You could feel it building inside, the pleasure of his rough movements far outweighing the discomfort. You let out another moan as he moved in and out, feeling the smooth friction all the way to the tips of your toes. The Wolf King chose this moment to draw his hips back, dragging his length out to the tip, before slamming it back inside with a powerful thrust, rocking your body to the point that you felt your vision turn white for a moment. Without giving you time to recover, Chan repeated the motion over and over again, speeding up and adjusting the angle to relentlessly hit deep inside, hips bumping your clit with every smooth grind.

He grunted from his efforts, one hand on the headboard while the other came to grab your breast, his lips sucking at your neck. For your part, you arched your back against him, allowing your hips to come up a little to meet his movements as he hit even deeper inside of you, just barely kissing your cervix. Your fingernails scraped down the smooth skin of his back at this new angle. He moaned when your nails dug into his flesh, bringing his lips up to yours and you kissed him feverishly, tasting him like your life depended on it. One of your hands curled into his smooth black hair while the other gripped his bicep tightly, sighing happily as you felt the muscles move.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to not feel overwhelmed by all of the things he was making you feel. Buried deep inside of you, you could feel him hit all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure to your tight center. Meanwhile, his lips were working magic against yours, leaving you breathless.

You could feel an intimate warmth building inside of you the longer he snapped his hips against yours. Groaning, you let out a cry as you felt something inside of you break open, releasing wave after wave of heat through your core, leaving your body drowning in pleasure.

There was a haze of lightheadedness clogging your senses, and you almost didn’t even realize the swell pushing against your ass, until it breached your core. “Chan!” you hissed at the combination of pain and overwhelming pressure, retreating and then swelling again as he ground that hot mass against you.

“My knot,” he groaned, and you could feel the heat from his chest against your breasts as he pressed even closer.

You vaguely recalled Ivy warning you about this, telling you that it would be hard to prepare for the massive instrution. You felt a spike of fear as it stretched you even further, and you worried that your virgin body would suffer. All you could do was grit your teeth and bury your head into the blankets beneath you, feeling the swell of his knot pressed against the cleft of your ass. You fisted the sheets between your hands. He would split you in half, and then you would be nothing.

“Y/N!” he growled, slowing his hips to a timid roll as his knot locked between you both, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt his release flood your insides, filling you to the point that your lower stomach had started to swell from his cum.

He groaned as you both came down from your highs, and you gently petted your finger through his unruly curls. He experimentally rolled his hips to test how firmly the knot was locking him inside and it wouldn’t budge. Your cunt squeezed the knot, eliciting another grunt from Chan, another twitch, and another spurt of hot cum inside of you.

The pop didn’t swell until Chan was fully seated, his thick cock barely able to seat itself fully between your pulsating walls. It was a painful stretch, of course, but you were hardly focused on it.

Chan continued to hump against you, long after his release and teetering on the cusp of oversensitivity, but those seductive hips had lost their rhythm. It was only moments later, as Chan pulled away from your lips and buried his face into your chest, that he growled when something warm filled your center. You let your hand wander down his spine, stroking along the individuals knots. You could feel him breathing hard above you, and you tried to soothe him back to normal.

You were locked together for a long time, and you were almost asleep when Chan was finally able to pull out, collapsing onto the mattress next to you, looking up at the ceiling. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly until you could barely see it move at all, signifying his return from his high. Your own breaths came out much shorter, and you were aware of the sweat that coated your skin.

You watched as Chan ran his hand through his dark hair, moving it out of his face. Looking over at you, he turned on his side and used one hand to bring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. You hummed in delight as your chests pressed together, moving in sync with each other. Chan’s eyes scanned over your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I love you Y/N,” he said. voice rumbling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You were barely coherent, collapsed against the sheets with a line of drool pooling out from your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest, savoring his warmth. “I trust you,” you said softly, and you could feel him sigh in relief. Simply holding you against him, surrounded by his warmth, you suddenly felt very much like you belonged.

“You and I have always been destined,” Chan whispered, and for the first time since you had taken your place as his Wolf Queen, you weren’t afraid.

Instead, you were irrevocably alive.

#stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #bang chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x female reader #chan oneshot #bang chan oneshot #chan imagines

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deconstructthesoup · 5 months

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Okay, now that all of the Bad Kids have their new art out... I can finally freak out/gush over/analyze it, because I didn't have the energy to do posts for every single one.

GUYS

Fig!!! My girl!!! The mismatched shoelaces! The bass guitar from Gorthalax! The phoenix feather earring for Ayda! The fishnet! The classic leather jacket/gray band shirt/red pleated skirt combo! The fingerless gloves! THE CHAIN WALLET!

KRISTEN IS BUTCH. Let me repeat that---KRISTEN! IS! BUTCH! And she's wearing the yellow jumpsuit that we saw in her figurine but she still has the purple in her backpack and her staff and her TIE-DIE SPORTS BRA! And she's got a new hairstyle! And a rainbow bracelet AND a lesbian bracelet! THE TEDDY BEAR! THE ICE CREAM SANDWICHES!

RIZ HAS AN UNDERCUT AND GLASSES AND HE KEPT HIS TATTOOS!!!! We've got the briefcase! We've got the angelic weapons! We've got the sword of shadows! We've got GADGETS! WE EVEN HAVE ARO/ACE RINGS! He looks so cool and nifty and crafty and BADASS! My boy has grown!

Gorgug. Oh my god, I can FEEL the "going into a worry" energy radiating from this. But he's got the axe! He's got artificer goggles and tools and a rucksack! He's FINALLY got the emo ripped jeans that he always deserved! He looks so sweet and huggable and perfect! AND HE HAS THE BIG HEADPHONES STILL!

ADAINE. My god. I love this girl so much and her art is perfect. She has patches on her jacket! We can see the cool design on her shirt! She's got high-fantasy boots and belts and she's got her new arcane sword! BOGGY IS THERE! And she looks so lovely and cool and her hair, oh my god, her hair is perfect! I'm so proud of her!

And lastly, the man, the myth, the LEGEND. Fabian looks perfect. Everything from the sword to the sheet to the expression to the tap shoes is spot-on. And his outfit? He's got harem pants! He's got a stylish shirt! He's got wraps around his hands! He's doing a dance move! Man-bun Fabian is now officially canon!

(Also, I'm never gonna shut up about how the Bad Kids are now all spellcasters, and almost all of them are different than how they were in freshman year because that's how growing up works! Fig's ditched College of Whispers as she learns to be truer to herself and has claimed the coolness of College of Lore, and she's got some warlock action to be closer to her dad! Kristen's a Twilight Domain cleric instead of the Life Domain, and I remember being so excited when that became official because that domain is so freaking cool! Riz is an Arcane Trickster, just! Like! Penny! Gorgug's an artificer as well as a barbarian, which is one of my favorite classes, and it looks like he's leaning even further into it! And we can't forget Fabian double-classing as a College of Swords bard! It's so beautiful! It's amazing! Maybe we'll get Adaine doing a martial multiclass to round out the "we're doing different things!" ANYTHING'S POSSIBLE!)

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fig faeth #fabian seacaster #adaine abernant #adaine o'shaughnessey #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #kristen applebees #i'm never gonna shut up about this art #it's healed me i swear to god it's perfect

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murmiss · 2 months

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Living with a monster guy.

(inspired by the anime 'Monster Musume no Iru Nichijou')

Pairing: TF141/you, maybe Kortac/you.

Warning: Possible mistakes in words,OOC,This is all purely my personal vision of the characters.I will not say that this is a full-fledged fanfiction, more a sketch of the idea.

summary:Hybrids and humans began to live in peace and harmoniously. You're just a girl with a damn lonely and boring life, but your friend, the head of the interspecies exchange department, decided to add a little tin to your life..

Part.1

A few years ago, a great secret was revealed to the world: the existence of hybrid creatures is real. Lamias, Harpies, and even fairy, mermaids were no longer myths and legends, but became common creatures for mankind. Now, going to the store, you can meet not only the neighbor's grandmother or a former classmate, but also a beautiful fairy choosing a herbaceous tincture with the aroma of roses, or maybe a centaur occupying the grocery department, with a grocery basket in her hands. So, hybrids have tightly integrated into our ordinary life, have become friends, colleagues, and even defenders. Defenders? You may ask. That's right, hybrids have obvious advantages over humans:speed, high jump, flight, fire breathing-and these and many other abilities were used in the army, the police, even in volunteering! Werewolves are good at finding people under rubble, they are strong and have an amazing nose that can smell the target they need for several kilometers.

There were also special groups created from hybrids with exceptional outstanding combat skills. One of them was the Task force 141, the most famous group in narrow circles.It will be discussed.

-Tess, you have no idea how lonely it can be, Girly...- you mumbled to the blonde sitting next to you. Tess Oskott is one of the employees of the interspecies exchange organization. This organization is responsible for ensuring that some types of hybrids (and, concurrently, almost all) have at least one owner who would monitor the well-being of his ward and ensure compliance with all the rules.

-And what about Cullen?-Tess asked with a chuckle, leaning back on the bar stool.

- Cullen? I've never seen worse assholes in my life!- you hiccuped, complaining in a genuinely indignant voice about your recent beau.- He talks for fifty minutes about his wonderful work, then made me pay the entire bill and asked me more "Let's go to you or to me?"

-Oh, it sucks -a friend laughed in response, smiling significantly, looking in your direction.

- I know how to help you, dear-Tess's self-confident smile did not mean anything good, for sure not for you.

- No zombie hybrids!- you moaned, getting to your feet and not taking your eyes off this cunning fox. Tess was up to something, but fatigue weighed on your shoulders, forcing you to run away as quickly as possible.After a short chat, you and Tess parted, she went to the office, and you went home.

Opening the door of your small house, you stumbled inside and kicked off your heels at the entrance, staggered up the stairs, opening the first door and casually throwing off your bag by the bed, plopped into the arms of soft and much-desired furniture.Sleep enveloped you almost instantly, taking you somewhere on a fabulous journey through the beautiful open spaces. You're riding a horse across wide fields, the wind is in your hair, and the horse is neighing and saying, "Pretty girl, wake up." You smile weakly, but at the same second it dawned on you: is the horse talking??! And as if at the behest of that bad man, you open your eyes, wanting to look into the eyes of this shameless intruder of your sweet dream. Next to the bed, Tess was leaning over, dressed in her strict black suit, holding a folder of documents in her hands. Workers walked nearby and dragged some furniture into the house. You jump to your feet and let out a cry of incomprehension.

-What the fuck, Tess!?

-calmly, sleeping beauty, I fulfill your wish, then you'll thank me again -the woman winked and immediately turned on the boss mode, rushed towards one of the rooms, saying in a growling bass voice, "I said the bathroom needs to be expanded! We are also expanding the doorways"

- What?? Do you mean to expand the bathroom?- you rush towards your cozy shower room and see a completely dismantled room. A disappointed groan escapes from your lips when you say "Fuck" in a smacky and disappointed way

Before you know it, workers are turning your house upside down, spoiling all the comfort...

"So, miss, you are participating in the 'hybrid exchange' program, your house has been improved in order to create more favorable living conditions for hybrids."

-What the fuck is so official, Tess? In the sense of hydrides?

"Shh, listen further. You have been honored to become the host for an elite group of handsome men, that is, hybrids.".

-What do you mean?-You asked, raising one eyebrow, but the creatures that suddenly appeared in front of you threw away all questions.

A man of large build, tall, with particularly strong-looking hands came into the house. With your eyes, you unconsciously traced every curve of his muscles hidden under his T-shirt, almost drooling. A black T-shirt with a print of some kind of rocker band, gray skinny jeans and sneakers - a simple image that fit him wonderfully.. Oh, a face with rough features, a scar above the left eye, gray eyes with a blue tint, stubble, thick eyebrows, a mohawk, and that self-confident smile! Tess definitely wants you dead, because this man was definitely hot.A light dreamy sigh escapes from your lips as you shamelessly examine the man in front of you. Tess nudges you in the side, whispering in your ear with a smile.

-Wait, it's too early to melt into a puddle, that's not all

When you hear a quiet hiss, you abruptly turn your gaze to the front door, quietly buncha crawled into the house. Stop.. Crawled in? Oh no.. You see Lamia crawling into your house, cursing at the narrow passages and the cold floor along the way, squinting in your direction in disbelief. Following the Lamia came, or rather, flew, a Harpy- a man with dark skin, a charming smile and the purest plumage. Well, in the end, with a slight alarm, a man with dragon wings came in, he turned from side to side, trying to get comfortable, and accidentally flicking a flower vase with his wings.. Your favorite one! You let out a plaintive moan, but while doing the inhale-exhale-inhale exercise, you managed to squeeze out a smile.

-Umm... oh.. uh.. Hi?- you say uncertainly, greeting them. The man with the wolf ears and tail smiled again, showing his sharp teeth and confidently saying, "Oh shit, Gas, I won. Our hostess is charming."

Charming? Damn, after the bar, you didn't even bother to wipe off your makeup, let alone change your clothes, and this dude is telling you that you're "cute"? It all looks like a dream or a violent comedy, and the director of photography here is Tess. The woman, noticing your bewilderment, patted you on the shoulder and threw something simple like "we'll call you later", busily left the house.

So you were left alone with four hybrids, not knowing what to do.

#call of duty #captain price #fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #captain john price #price x reader #tf 141 x reader #poly tf141 #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod

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mask131 · 3 months

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I just want to clarify something: If you want to understand how Greek mythology and the Greek gods were represented and received from the Roman world onward, you NEED Ovid's Metamorphoses. For the Roman times, for the Middle-Ages, for the Renaissance, for the Modernity... ESPECIALLY for the Middle-Ages and the Renaissance since the Greek texts were either completely absent or really hard to obtain in these eras, unlike the Latin texts (such as Ovid's) which were everywhere and known by everybody. Ovid's Metamorphoses is, in this sense, a key element on how Greek mythology (but in truth Roman mythology in disguise) was shaped throughout Europe's popular culture and Europeans subconscious mind.

HOWEVER if you want to completely understand and thoroughly study Greek mythology in its - dare I say - "true" form, as in how it existed back in the times of Ancient Greece ; if you want to see and get how the Greek gods were seen and perceived by the Ancient Greeks themselves ; if you want to know the folktales and legends the Ancient Greek cities kept alive through their plays and their poems - do NOT use Ovid's Metamorphoses and get him the f*ck out of your mind, because Ovid did not play any part in actual Greek mythology, as he was a Roman man who wrote in Latin for a Roman audience, and went from simply slightly modifying some legends by mixing actual Latin/Roman religion-folklore in Greek traditions, to INVENTING ENTIRE GODS AND CHARACTERS OUT OF NOWHERE.

(Well not out of nowhere, to be fair, he always had a basis somewhere on late Greek myths or extrapolations of Greek texts - but he still invented a lot of things that then became somehow "canon" retrospectively to Greek mythology, but only through this new Greco-Roman mythology completely rebuilt and reshaped by the medieval and Renaissance authors, artists and scholars)

#greek mythology #ovid #metamorphoses #greek gods #roman mythology #ovid's metamorphoses

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cenorii · 1 month

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Chris Redfield: personality

This is my psychological analysis of the character, which includes important details of the story, an analysis of the decisions they made and the concept of the phenomenon of «Guiding Fear». Contains spoilers!

Even if you know lore 100%, you will be able to learn something new from my thoughts

I did this to practice analyzing personalities and reliably prescribe my own characters.

[These are all my personal reflections that I have been accumulating and analyzing for six months. You can see the same analysis with Wesker here. In Chris' case, I want to dispel the myths that he is unstable and stupid. Thanks to everyone who reads this, I really appreciate it and it's nice to know that my thoughts are of interest to someone!]

Chris devoted his life entirely to the fight against bioterrorism, renouncing normal life so that others could have it. We don't know much about his thoughts and feelings, as it's in Chris' character to hide such things deep within himself so they don't interfere with his work, but his kind and honest nature shines through. His probable motto is «If not me, then who?»

The main theme of Resident Evil is the struggle with fear. We can speculate endlessly about which characters struggle with which fear, but I'm pretty sure Chris embodies the «fear of loss».

In his 48 years of life, he has lost many partners and squad members, as well as family and friends. Death follows Chris, and he is unbearably afraid of his curse. But who is Chris? In the eyes of many he is a hero, famous for his impulsive character and unbending sense of justice, because of which he is ready to argue with his superiors to prove his point. But behind the legend is a sensitive, respectful and careful man, able to recognize the best qualities in people and guide them.

«I'm not a hero» © Chris

Because of his fear of losing his loved ones, Chris needs control and order in his life, he avoids and minimizes any risks. For this reason, in re8 organized his own squad, separated from the organization, to have full control over the situation. This obsession to control his environment and outcomes to avoid the pain or disappointment that he has experienced in the past is a defense mechanism.

Chris is not an overly sociable person or someone who is eager to make new friends. Although he is easy to communicate, Chris still refrains from frequent socializing with people to avoid forming attachments that could potentially lead to losses in the future. He is used to formal communication between subordinates and colleagues, and informal communication only with those close to Chris who have been with him for a long time.

But let's go his way.

Chris and his younger sister Claire lost their parents when they were children, they died in a car accident. Since then, Chris has taken responsibility for his sister and they have become very close. The first major loss in his life.

At the age of 17, Chris joined the United States Air Force, where he stayed for 6 years. From there he has flying skills, and he is also good with various weapons and is known for his hand-to-hand combat skills, which will not once help him in life. A capable man who was fired for disobeying senior officers, because he didn't agree with them. Barry Burton, a friend he met in the Air Force, recommended Chris to S.T.A.R.S. (elite special forces division under the jurisdiction of the Raccoon Police Department), and that's how his fateful meeting with the Alpha and Bravo teams happened. On the team, Chris was valued for his versatility and was assigned as a point man.

There Chris won at least one award as the best shooter and also met Jill Valentine, who later became his good friend and partner.

His desk in S.T.A.R.S.'s office stands out with its perpetual clutter, scattered folders and disks. He tends to bring things from home, decorating his place with them. For example, next to his desk, Chris put a guitar and also hung a jacket with "Made in Heaven" written on it, which is a reference to a song by the band Queen. Did he risk using the guitar in the presence of the Captain?

On holidays, he would often go to the suburbs with his teammates to drink, which sometimes caused riots. At that point, Chris was chaotic, but because of a difficult fate in the future, he had to tame his inner chaos.

All good things came to an end when contact was lost with Bravo's team in the mountains near Raccoon City. Alpha, meaning the team Chris was on, went to investigate and stumbled upon the Spencer's Mansion. But it wasn't an accident, it was just part of the plan of Wesker, their Captain. The mansion was only a cover for the Umbrella lab beneath it. All the inhabitants of the place had become mere shadows of their former selves, turning into zombies. In order for Chris to explore the building more safely, Wesker left supplies for him in some places, which may not be canon, but only a game convention. But this is quite normal for Wesker, he maintained the image of the captain until the very end.

When Chris caught Wesker off guard in the lab, he was finally convinced that his fears were correct... the captain was a traitor. But even knowing that, realizing how many squad members he ruined, when Wesker was mortally wounded Chris didn't hide his excitement for him. In the re1 remake Chris twitches in his direction, but then recoils. Chris has compassion even for those who betrayed him.

Chris lost many friends, including Wesker, during this assignment. And that day left a strong imprint in his mind. It was later dubbed «Mansion Incident». Something that divided the lives of many into «before» and «after» and began an endless nightmare.

Chris, Jill, Barry, Brad and Rebecca survived and took it upon themselves to figure things out. Upon their return, Chris reported the horrific incident to anyone who was willing to listen, but Police Chief Irons hushed up all the gossip, being under the thumb of Umbrella, not to mention that even the government refused to listen to what Chris had to say. Umbrella had too much influence for it to be that simple, but that only fueled the fire of Chris's fighting spirit. He went on «vacation» to Europe to do his own investigation without saying anything to Claire. Chris wanted to keep his sister out of danger, but there were consequences. Concerned about her brother's disappearance, Claire found herself drawn into the chaos of the fall of Raccoon City, where she met Leon Kennedy (events re2).

During his time at S.T.A.R.S., Chris saw his sister often and taught her shooting and combat skills. Thanks to her brother's attention, Claire learned the skills she needed to survive.

When Claire learned enough information about her brother and left the infected city, she traveled to Europe to continue her search for Chris, but found herself caught by Umbrella. She was sent to Rockfort Island prison, which was more like a concentration camp. (Code: Veronica). Thanks to information from Leon, who Claire managed to contact, Chris set out to help his sister. On the island, he encountered a few revelations - Wesker was alive for some reason, and he was also after some Alexia.

The former captain who got Chris's friends killed. The one who was presumed dead has once again cast a shadow over Redfield's life. Their fates intertwined.

Since Wesker's presence has been causing disasters as of late, Chris decided not only to find his sister, but also to investigate the situation on the island to prevent his new enemy from giving him what he was looking for. Upon meeting him, he discovered that the former captain was no longer human. Chris was only able to defeat him by stealth, suffering greatly in the process.

He eventually saved Claire, and they left the place together. Deep in his heart, Chris realized that Umbrella must cease to exist so that people like Wesker would disappear. So that unfortunate people would not repeat the fate of Steve (Claire's dead friend) and the people of Raccoon City.

In 2003, he traveled with Jill to Russia because of reports of infected people in that region. Their visit to a biological weapons factory ended with a victory over a new enemy, T-A.L.O.S., as well as the collapse of Umbrella, because now Chris and Jill had all the evidence against them. It was not without the help of Wesker, who had contributed to this collapse, because he wanted the same thing. Since then, Chris had become very attached to Jill, as if he was responsible for her life.

However, bioweapons and viruses have affected civilians many more times. That's why Chris and his partner joined the young BSAA organization to prevent the disaster in Raccoon City from repeating itself. In 2005 they were drawn into a conflict with the terrorist organization Veltro, in the investigation of which revealed unpleasant information about traitors in their (BSAA) ranks. There, by the way, Chris becomes the partner of a certain Jessica Sherawat, who is clearly partial to him, but he pretends that he does not notice the hints, softly rejecting the feelings of the future traitor. Inside BSAA, the leadership had to be changed, and that was the first seed of doubt that settled in Chris's mind. The first feeling of distrust for the place he was involved with.

Life continues to put Chris on the spot, forcing him to go on various missions with little or no time to rest. Thanks to the huge number of things, he has dedicated himself to, Chris is at the top of the organization. His endless hard work is summed up in his own phrase: «I'm Not Going To Stop Until I'm Dead».

Let's travel back to 2006. DLC for re5 «Lost in Nightmares». Chris and Jill go in search of Spencer, the last remaining bit of Umbrella, its founder. This man is responsible for many things and deserves to be punished, and could help them find Wesker. But when the partners arrive on a tip-off at his mansion, they find only a bloody corpse with their former captain standing over it. The latter in turn was displeased with the intrusion and immediately attacked them, during the fight Chris was caught off guard. A couple of seconds separated him from probable death. But Jill intervened and pushed Wesker through the window, she falling with him into the cliff. Chris could only watch helplessly as they fell, realizing that once again he had lost someone dear to him. Here Chris wonders for the first time if his struggle is worth it.

Jill's body was never found, and neither was Wesker's, so the former was pronounced dead. The empty grave with the headstone that had been erected in her honor was not deprived of Chris's attention. He probably went there often and grieved. What he swore over Jill's grave was unknown to anyone, but it made Chris investigate even more and put himself through even more training.

Since 1998, his body has changed a lot. Knowing that one day he would meet Wesker again, Chris diligently grew stronger, pushing his body to the limits of human capability so that he would be ready for anything.

What follows are the events of re5. In 2009, he travels to Africa to stop a bioweapons deal, where he meets his new partner, Sheva Alomar. Although they don't have the reliving of the past that they had with Jill, they hit it off well, thanks to which they accomplish a lot together. At the very beginning they encounter a new enemy, Majini, the same Ganados that Leon once encountered in re4, only from an improved version of the Plaga parasite. They also meet a virtually immortal mutant created thanks to the new Uroboros virus. After defeating him, Chris gets the data and learns that the deal was rigged to test this virus. In doing so, he lost several more of his men and painfully realized that if he had arrived on the scene a little earlier, his corpse lay with them. The data also contained a picture of a woman who looked strangely like the dead Jill, but with blonde hair. Chris secretly believed that maybe his old partner was alive.

Sheva was disappointed by the deaths of her comrades and frightened. Not wanting to put anyone else in danger, Chris asks her to leave him, but Sheva refuses. She assures Chris that they are partners until the end. Somewhere out there, her people are dying, so she can't drop everything and turn back and leave Chris alone. Then Chris tells her that he's on this mission for personal reasons. His former partner Jill may be alive and she needs his help, so they need to hurry before it's too late. To which Sheva agrees, not doubting her new partner's theory.

Eventually, after going through many trials, they came face to face with Wesker. He revealed that Jill had been with him the whole time, but was under a mind-altering drug. Jill, being zombified, fought on the same team as Wesker against Chris and Sheva. One of the dearest people to Chris had been enslaved for two whole years, which was beyond his mind with horror and sadness. He had almost buried her, almost given up looking for her, but Jill was literally under his nose, in a terrible situation. Struggling with his best friend and partner, Chris never stopped trying to get the truth into her head so she would recognize it, and he's succeeding.

Running away on urgent business, Wesker leaves Jill alone, forcing Chris and Sheva to fight her. During the fight, they remove the injector from her chest that was controlling her mind.

A disoriented Jill repents that she realized everything but couldn't control herself, to which her partners reply that they understand. Jill is back in action and off to the «Desperate Escape» DLC, while Chris and Sheva continue the main plot and head off on Wesker's trail. For Chris, this was already a personal vendetta. Having suffered so much loss through this man's fault, he would no longer be able to look Jill in the eye if he didn't stop him.

While searching for Wesker, the team encounters an Uroboros mutated Excella, Wesker's his ally, on whom Wesker decides to test the virus, to see if Excella will prove to be the «chosen one».

After an exhausting battle, the partners find the man they came for and decide to use the serum stolen from Excella. It is an injection that, under the right conditions, stabilizes Wesker's powers, but when overdosed makes him weaker. A weakened Wesker tries to flee to his plane, refusing to be confronted any further. His partners, who managed to climb with him, cause the plane to crash into an active volcano, where their final battle takes place.

Wesker, having lost most of his powers, finds himself in a difficult situation and decides to resort to overdosing on Uroboros. Against him, Chris and Sheva are once again at odds, but the fragile rock in the volcano plays into their hands, and Wesker falls ridiculously into the lava as the ground beneath him collapses.

This allowed partners to take advantage of his helplessness and fire the rocket launcher twice at the target. Although not shown, it is assumed that Wesker was killed.

After that, Chris finally realized what he was fighting for, realizing that his fight was worth the lives saved. Jill was sent to rehab after everything Wesker had done to her and didn't get back to normal until closer to 2015, causing Chris to change partners again. Chris wrote in his notes, «Defeating Wesker's undoubtedly a turning point for me. Due to this battle, I found the meaning behind what I'm fighting for».

In 2012, during the events of re6, Chris and his new partner, Piers Nivans, were sent to Edonia to prevent the spread of another bioweapon, but things didn't go quite as they expected. Another mission, another loss for Redfield.

At some point, he learns about Jake Muller and the fact that his life is in danger. After learning that he was Wesker's own son, Chris thought deep down, probably about the fate that has been intertwined with this man since the days of S.T.A.R.S.

At the very beginning of the mission, Chris loses almost his entire squad, once again convinced of the curse he carries behind him. And amnesia during the trauma incapacitates him for six months and Chris becomes an alcoholic.

In 2013, Pierce brings his captain back into the service, forcefully reclaiming unpleasant memories in order to continue the mission. The losses that Chris has suffered have affected him greatly, and he worries for the lives of every member of the squad, making foolish and rash actions that put him in danger. It is only after talking with Piers that Chris comes to his senses and becomes his old self again, because being gripped by fear you can't save anyone. And he really couldn't save anyone again, only the two of them survived.

After meeting Jake again, Chris confesses that he killed Wesker, his father, which leads to an argument in which Jake pulls a gun on him. Chris at this point says, "Go ahead, shoot. You have every right to. Just promise me you'll survive. The world depends on it." Jake shoots past and declares that there are more important things at stake than their problems. Chris probably feels guilty about him.

On a mission to protect Jake and many others, Chris and Piers have to face a new bioweapon, HAOS. Piers, sacrificing himself, becomes infected with the C-virus and forces Chris to save himself by being alone with HAOS. In doing so, he became another wound on Redfield's heart. Another loss on the account. Chris had planned to retire, lay down his weapons and turn everything over to Piers, but now he is forced to continue his service, thus honoring Piers's memory. Chris once said he would fight to the end, and he doesn't throw words to the wind.

2017, re7 events. Bakers and Mold incident, which Chris was unlucky enough to be involved in. He once again tragically lost all of his people. Once again, fate has struck a sore spot. And that seed of doubt that had settled in his mind back in 2005 finally blossomed. After this incident, Chris became even more distrustful of the BSAA, because they had hidden the incident from the public, which had never happened before. He formed his own Hound Wolf Squad, gathering people he could trust, and spent the next three years tracking down a certain mother Miranda, with absolutely no authorization from headquarters. He became an outcast in BSAA for this cause and for justice.

As Chris got older, he stopped acting impulsively and began to act more uncompromisingly, clearly following the plan regardless of any interference. He saw no obvious reason why he was obligated to inform Ethan of his next course of action before shooting his «wife» during dinner in 2021. He believed that Miranda would realize that Ethan knew something, so such sacrifices had to be made.

Ethan thought until the last minute that his wife was gone and the baby had been taken away. What loss and stress Ethan went through Chris didn't even take it upon himself to imagine. In the end, it turned out that it wasn't his wife at all, but Miranda, who had pretended to be her, changing her appearance at the expense of Mold's abilities. Chris's plan had gone awry from the start, but it could hardly have been worse if he had prematurely informed Ethan. From now on, Chris tried to keep random people out of his plans to minimize any potential casualties.

On this mission, for the first time, Chris didn't lose anyone from his squad, but he did lose a friend. Ethan died to protect loved ones, and it hit Redfield and his fear once again. He experienced grief and anger at the realization that he would never be able to save those whose lives he held dear. Perhaps he chastised himself for the mistakes he had made during this assignment. Blamed himself for not telling Ethan the whole plan beforehand. He had plenty of reasons to hate himself.

But this small victory over Miranda doesn't mean victory in the never-ending war against bioterrorism. On the way back, one of his squad discovers that the body of the BSAA soldier on their plane was a bioweapon. This is the last straw for Chris, and he decides to look into everything, which will most likely lead to a coup in the organization.

To summarize, Chris is sometimes hard to understand, as he hides his emotions and feelings under a meaningful silence. The kindly man who was the soul of the company, by 2021 looks as if he has lost all hope, but it still burns in him. Every dead person he failed to keep safe feels like they destroyed his heart. Christopher is a huge wound in the fandom that is not easy to heal. His storyline is likely coming to an end, which makes me sad to see Chris meet his old age in sadness and loneliness. At the time of re8 (2021), he's already 48 years old, which is a lot considering he's been fighting bioterrorism since he was 25. Has Chris ever thought of his own wants and needs since then? He has such dedication and concern for others that it seems as if he is completely oblivious to himself. With his endless responsibilities, it would be impossible to take a vacation, but there are indeed moments of calm, does Chris never rest?

On a more personal note, he has always treated his squads like family, "I know it is not any of my business, but I want you to think of us as a family... no matter how this all ends" (Philosophy University Incident 2010). Nothing is known about Chris' relationships, except for one non-canonical instance of dating a girl in «Viral Campaign». Apart from his living friends, he has no one else. It wasn't until Ethan's death that he found something resembling a normal life. Chris helped Ethan's wife raise and educate their daughter Rose, becoming an uncle and father figure to her. It is unknown if Chris ever returned to alcoholism after his amnesia, but I can assume it is unlikely. A lot of things happened to him during that period of his life that affected his view of the world. Surely he no longer allows himself to behave so recklessly, even in the most stalemate situation.

Interesting detail, Chris is constantly contrasted with Wesker, as if he's a better version of him. Both were Alpha squad captains, both have blood type 0, and were once the same weight class and same height. Probably the same eye color, as well as great weapons proficiency. Their encounters in re5 don't look like a fight, it's more like a dance between two people with equally good fighting skills. Sure, Wesker is much stronger than Chris due to his situation with the virus, but he never let himself use more strength than necessary to keep Chris fighting him, prolonging any fight with him. It's possible that Wesker's attempt to kill Chris in «Lost in Nightmares» is just a ruse, and he was going to toss him aside somewhere, as he never seriously intended to hurt him enough. Chris' age at the time of his last official appearance in re8 is 48, which matches Wesker's age at the time of his supposed death. Their conflict isn't over yet, so it's fully expected that Wesker survived and will once again surprise Christopher with his presence. They need to finish what they started, as adults and having already been through a lot. Without the pointless fights that the current Chris is unlikely to get into. There's no telling what the modern Wesker might be like, but if he's stayed in the shadows for so many years, it's not like he's planning to be too reckless either.

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

Due to a misunderstanding, I would like to supplement my text. This analysis is only my personal interpretation and my personal view of the character and his story. I do not claim that it is 100% canon, because canon is so vague and disjointed that it is impossible to fully assemble it objectively. Everyone is entitled to have an interpretation different from mine. Best wishes to all!

#resident evil #rebhfun #resident evil 5 #chris redfield #albert wesker #resident evil 8 #resident evil 6 #cenori's long posts about RE

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lina-lovebug · 5 months

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Tumultuous Waters

Ch.1

Orm Marius fanfic

Warnings: allusions to abuse and sexual assault

I have lived my life without love.

I never once felt affection for my husband, nor did I ever think what he held for me was pure.

He looked at me once and claimed me to be his, but my refusal came with denial. I was his from the moment he laid his eyes upon me, and no power on Olympus nor Earth could keep him from me.

Even when he lay with me, I prayed it would be over soon. I would watch above, hoping to be struck so that I wouldn't have to hear his grunts and feel his skin on mine.

This is the life of a wife to a God.

Yet I was able to find some happiness in our marriage.

I bore a son named Triton, who became King of the Seven Seas. He bore my eyes, which I took pride in. Of course I would never blame my son for the actions of his father, but I had sighed in relief when I saw that the only relation he held to Poseidon was his strength and hair color.

Then a daughter came, to whom I named Rhodos. I feared what Poseidon may do to a daughter of our own - which God's he would attempt to pawn her off to.

But she held a fire in her that he had burnt out within me long ago. Rhodos took charge of her love and future, and found happiness and love in Helios, the Sun God. When Aphrodite had cursed him to forget all of his lovers, including her, it was the first time I found myself marching up to her in rage.

And I punched the Goddess of Beauty.

I feared her retaliation, but instead, the Goddess laughed and smiled upon me. “Finally, someone who refuses to take my shit.”

We became great friends after she reversed the curse and Helios spent many centuries honoring my daughter.

But after my children made it clear that they now had their own lives, I was back to square one. I would spend days watching Poseidon drive his ego so far up his ass that he'd be grinning like he created the universe. Centuries seemed to be slow as I stopped fighting him, and became. . .lifeless.

I missed my family.

I missed the ocean.

But I was reminded that I'm not just Poseidon's wife. I'm a daughter of Nereus, and the third of fifty Nereids who created mermaids and sirens. We are shapeshifters and in the myths and legends for assisting sailors in their journeys across the ocean.

My son created Atlantis. He was proud of his kingdom, and was so delighted to show it to me. He had learnt from seeing his father that no one should rule a Kingdom on their own, but he elected a council to help him truly learn how to be a good ruler.

And he had children.

The Tritonides, similar to my sister's. Never once did a son come from his wife but he did not mind at all. I watched with pride as my son adored his daughters and doted on his wife, despite the lack of assistance and care from Poseidon.

Yet I could not stay in this kingdom.

For Poseidon commanded I return home.

For the next eight hundred years, I stayed in Olympus and found myself slipping again.

He was never faithful.

He was never kind.

He was cruel.

But he's a God.

And I can never be free of him.

I would only hear the news that my son's lineage had no longer been on the throne through Poseidon - who bragged about such a thing. He declared that a merman who had slain King Nero and Queen Athena had taken the crown because of corruption, and laughed.

Not only had our son's bloodline been slain, but his father dared to laugh.

I know I stand no chance in fighting him, but he was our son - our baby boy. So just as I had done to Aphrodite, I had punched him in the face and watched as his eyes turned sinister.

He hit me.

He didn't stop hitting me.

My eyes stared up at him as he prepared to take me, “you think this makes you a man? In all our years together, I have seen you as less than a spoiled boy. How disappointed our son would be if he could see this view.”

He left me with his limp excuse of a cock and I allowed my body to heal through the ocean water.

I had even hoped I would be able to drown.

But as the Queen Mother of the Seven Seas, I prepared myself. The puffy eyes and the bruises vanished as quickly as they appeared, and let Atlantis prepare themselves for their guest.

A permanent guest.

Taglist: @nanamiscunt @illegalcerebral @notasadgirlipromise @cozmicwonder

#orm marius #orm marius imagine #aquaman imagine #aquaman the lost kingdom #the lost kingdom #faceclaim is anne hathaway our queen

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moonlight-prose · 6 months

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pretty please may i request ❛i once imagined you loved me a little bit, if you’ll excuse the presumption.❜ from the &. 𝐟. 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. prompt list with loki? clawing at the walls tysm 🌷

LOVE IS A SMOKE MADE WITH A FUME OF SIGHS

a/n: i haven't written anything this angsty is so long and it felt good to finally churn out that type of fic. i miss breaking these character's hearts. so babes i hope you know that i went so fucking pretentious with this one it actually made me pick up shakespeare just to title it. (yes it's from romeo and juliet which is ironic cause it's a love between a god and a human). but anyways i hope you enjoy! and of course the gif is crimson peak. it matched the vibe.

summary: you were never meant to be apart of their world, of his home. you were a mortal amongst gods and the time for your parting had finally come.

OR the heartbreak of losing someone who is half your soul.

word count: 2k

pairing: loki x reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, heartbreak, overly pretentious prose about love and pain, mention of death, waxing poetically about losing love, not edited because we live and die by the fucking pen.

The tragedy of love has always been steeped in irony to you. After all, there was something of hilarity bound between the emotions that connected two people so deeply they’d go to war for it. Or perhaps die for it. Maybe this belief came from never understanding it—never experiencing it for yourself. But how were you supposed to know what it looked like? What it felt like, when you had no notion of it even existing in the first place.

Maybe it was a well thought out joke that pulled people in, capturing them in the depths of something so mysterious. You understood heartbreak. Knew the depravity that came from having something ripped from you without a notion of consequence. But love…that remained as mythical to you as Lancelot and Guinevere.

You could feel his eyes on you the longer you stood there, fiddling with the drink in your hand. It wasn’t often that an Asgardian invited a human to visit their land and it was a rarity when it happened with a prince. But that’s where you wound up. Standing amidst legends and myths wanting to flee at a moment's notice. And he watched in earnest, with the hope that you would turn to catch his gaze.

“Excuse me,” you said with a smile to the man beside you who had been talking about the nonsense of science for thirty minutes.

Whether or not he actually believed the words he said became an afterthought. You couldn’t stand there and pretend any longer. You didn’t want to.

Music filled the surrounding space, drowning you in the joyous leisure of having nothing to worry about. What could possibly trouble such powerful beings? Where you were nothing but a small speck in the grand scheme of things. Something trivial that would one day pass and be extinguished just as fast as you were ignited.

You saw the way they viewed you the second you crossed the threshold of the hall. How they seemed to pity you. They would go on. They would continue to carve their names in the history of the universe and you would be but a fleeting memory in their minds. The most you could hope for was to place a smile on their face for a moment before you were gone entirely.

People danced wherever you went, others laughed and boasted about their triumphs. And you could feel the air begin to press out of your lungs. As if they were slowly stripping you of everything that made your body work. You gasped, pushing open a door that led to the courtyard in the hopes that you’d make it to a secluded area before you broke down entirely.

Flames were lit to preserve the warmth. They casted a glow along the architecture of the stone walls—trees placed perfectly along the outskirts. The temptation to hide away here lingered in your chest, but you could practically feel the seconds tick by. You only had a limited amount of time before people made their way outside to view the night sky.

Any other night this would be the most romantic setting to find yourself in. Tonight however you were plagued by a pain that refused to fade.

You wiped roughly at the tears that began to fall as footsteps echoed behind you. It seemed that your time was running out faster than you expected and you’d be caught in the open with no explanation to why you were crying. Maybe if you ran you wouldn't have to deal with the questions. But then the warm glow of the fire flickered an emerald green, sparks flying into the air and you felt the energy around you shift.

“I caught you leaving.”

The smile was prominent in his tone—light enough to presume he didn’t know why you were here. Yet no matter how much he tried to conceal his emotions…you could always read him like an open book. A fact he loathed about you.

“I needed air,” you replied, clasping your hands together.

“You will find plenty out here.” Another step echoed like a shot ringing through the air and suddenly he was pressing a hand to your shoulder. The cold sensation of his touch rippled through you. It flooded your senses with more than you could process at this time.

With a sharp gasp, you pulled away. “Don’t.”

“I’m not sure I understand—”

“Loki,” you sighed, finally giving in. With another breath, you turned to face him—the glimmer of tears now unmistakable in your eyes. “What am I doing here?”

You could see the mistake the second the words left your mouth to hang in the air between you. As if this was the final reckoning of something so delicate. The question had been building for days since he brought you with him. Something to explain that maybe…this wasn’t just a frivolous one time fling that he’d forget about soon after you returned home. But nothing ever came. It seemed he was more interested in showing you off to everyone else, rather than letting you in.

“You’re here for dinner of course.” He smiled, offered you his hand, and faltered when you didn’t take it. When you stood where you were with a somber look in your eyes.

The green color flared to life beside you again, reflecting his emotions and finally giving you an insight into his mind. But it wasn’t enough.

You wanted to know how he felt. What was he too scared to tell anyone? Perhaps he might let you in on it. But Loki had always been closed off even to those he cared about and you didn’t want to be simply another person he tried to love. You needed more than empty words and flowery promises. As you watched him come up with something to say you could see it. He knew that this wasn’t enough; that you wouldn’t be wooed by parties you had no place in with people you held no interest for.

“I think it’s time for me to go home.” You bit down on the inside of your cheek to stop the tears from starting up again.

“My darling—”

“I don’t belong here Loki,” you admitted. “Everyone in there can see that I am not one of you.”

His gaze turned sharp. “One of us?”

“You know what I mean. I’m not a god.” You stood a bit straighter as if facing the oncoming battle.

“So you think because you aren’t Asgardian that we will think less of you? That I would…” He snapped his mouth shut, eyes darker than you were used to seeing them.

“No!”

“Don’t believe for a second that I brought you here under false pretenses—”

“Then why did you bring me?” you exclaimed. “Because it certainly doesn’t feel like you actually want me here. You left me alone in there! As if I was meant to be shown off for some Asgardian amusement.”

He stepped forward, crowding into your space and like the stubborn human you were…you stood your ground. His lips quirked up slightly, admiration flaring in his eyes before that too was stolen away.

“You forget. I am not Asgardian.”

You scoffed, rising up to meet him—your nose brushing so close to his that you could feel his breath against your face. “That is not who I saw in there.”

His eyes dropped to your lips. The darkness from before returning with a vigor that stole your breath away. No matter how much you wanted to remain upset, you couldn’t deny the pull that existed between you. The longing you felt in your heart. Loki released a shuddered breath as his eyes dragged back to yours and something raw clicked into place.

Cupping your cheek, he dragged you forward until his lips met yours. Loki always kissed you as if this was his last time, as if he would never know the sweet taste of oxygen without you. You were the soothing balm against his wounds that refused to close. A piece of serenity in a place that bred nothing but chaos. He dragged you closer, no longer hesitant to lick into your mouth and drag out a moan, because what else did he have to lose?

You knew the malice that existed in him—had seen it first hand. Yet even that wasn’t enough to turn you away from this.

To make you flee from the man who viewed himself as a monster.

“Loki,” you sighed, fingers digging into the leather beneath his armor. It was as soft as his touch, the scent intoxicating you the longer you stood there.

“Don’t…” He could feel the hesitation in your kiss. The uncertainty in your touch.

You still remained unsure of what he wanted from you; what this actually meant to him. And even though he wanted to proclaim it loud enough for you to hear, he knew that you’d never truly understand the depths of his emotions. Loki had always believed he would remain alone in his life. A lost soul doomed to wander the universe for all eternity, but when he met you he hoped that for a moment…he would finally feel the warmth of the sun against his skin once more.

He hoped he would feel alive again.

“You are…” Warm tears fell against your cheeks and he wiped them away gently. “You’re the one I want to be with. The one I choose.” You cupped his hand in yours, desperate to keep his touch against your skin. “But I am not immortal.”

“We gods die too.”

You smiled. “Not in the way humans do.”

Silence washed over the both of you. A solemn understanding that began to infiltrate even his mind. And thus was the irony of love. Two souls so tragically different that even death would keep you apart until the very end of time. You almost laughed, but knew that the situation would only be ruined by it.

“I need to go home where I belong.”

“You belong—”

“I don’t belong with gods Loki. I never have. And no matter how much you want that to change it can’t.”

Within seconds you watched his walls begin to close up again, pulling back any sense of emotion he once showed. Until you were right back where you started. Alone in the middle of a world that didn’t deem you worthy to stand on it. You were the outsider looking in. A mortal who got a chance to dine with the gods of old and briefly pretend you were one of them.

“So you choose them.”

An ache sprouted in your chest, spreading down to the very tips of your fingers. Until you swore you couldn’t breathe. A necessary evil to stave off the heartbreak of what would eventually come down the road.

“My love…”

He pulled away, standing stiff and face void of any emotion. “That word doesn’t belong to me. Not anymore.” Turning slightly, he roughly wiped at his cheek to hide the tears. Meanwhile you allowed them to fall freely. “I once imagined you loved me a little bit, if you’ll excuse the presumption.”

With a final look—eyes filled with a plea to say something—he relented. He nodded his head, took in a large breath, and turned back towards the steps. Once again leaving you behind as he returned to a world you’d never fully understand. You watched him go, a sob wracking your body as he took with him a love that only came around once in a lifetime. As he took part of your soul.

The flames returned to their natural orange glow, once again emitting a warmth that should have flooded your body. But all you felt was the cold touch of a lover lost to you for good.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki of asgard #my writing #a dream within a dream week🍷

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emsvertigo · 1 year

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Nectar Of The Gods

image not mine, found on pinterest

summary & genre — angst, fluff & slight nsfw. as a na’vi you have always been sceptical of trusting sky people and dream-walkers, so there’s no difference when jake suddenly joins your tribe. rumours begin to spread about him, but all you want to know is his true intent. why is he really here, and why is his existence plaguing your every thought?

warnings — canon-typical violence, sexual references, strong language (c’mon it’s jake)

character & pairing — jake sully x fem!na’vi!reader (avatar. 2009)

word count — 3.1k

a/n — hii! this is my first post back on this account since i finally got inspiration back after 2/3 years!! sorry if you’ve come from the lord of the rings fandom and followed me when that was my normal thing to post, i appreciate you but i have moved on to different fandoms <3 anyway i got into avatar pretty recently with the release of the new film and MY GOD is jake sully fit, anyway, this is such an self insert cause i’m in love with him (aren’t we all). thank you to @nptnewr who has been a legend by inspiring me to write again (and getting me into avatar) ilysm!

find my old fics here! ✿

takes place during avatar. 2009, no way of water spoilers!

The whispers had started quickly. Through leaves and into the trees, casting a mist of rumour around the air, sticking damply to conversation. The sky person disguised in an ally’s body had arrived in the village suddenly, presenting no warning to the tribe of his coming or when his departure would be imminent. The gossiping tales of his true intentions were only fiction, planted like seeds to keep curiosity blossoming into a thick vine of chaotic lies. Some whispers spoke of his swift acceptance of the native way of life, and how his sacrifices presented him as a trustworthy friend, rather than an enemy to be slaughtered. Some spoke kindly of Eywa’s presence in his life and followed the deity’s instructions of selectively choosing this certain being. However, there were still some who spoke of darkness and the oncoming storm that would follow his path, destroying life in his wake. His footsteps covered with the blood of families after luring them to their doom, enchanting them with hope.

The blade in your hand trembled as you cut through bone, sharpening the ends of your arrows in haste. A pile of thin items grew swiftly beside you, accompanied by your bow. Your fingers were crying from holding the knife with extreme pressure, but your thoughts only grew, circling with stories and myths about this man, this alien, as your fingertips turned pale. With every movement of your arm, a grunt emerged from your clenched teeth. Snarling at the thought of the dream-walker amongst you, living as though his life was connected to the planet as yours was. He had won the heart of many, yet it was still strange that he distanced himself and became clueless when talking about pressing matters, hoping to come to peace with his kind and your tribe, pretending to warn you about dangers to come. Trespassers and strangers should be insulted and killed for their embarrassingly horrific behaviour.

The knife clattered to the branch beneath you, breaking the mould of concentration that covered your mind. You looked down at the discarded tool, useless and lifeless in shape after overwork. You hissed, grabbing the blade and throwing it far into the night, along with the arrow you had been working on. The air nipped your face as you sat at the edge of a tree branch, separated from home. Your pile of arrows accompanied you, balancing in the grooves of the bark.

Below your swinging feet, you spotted the ground glowing with footsteps, a dark figure stalking its way through the undergrowth. The footsteps of the being were quiet, yet the patter of bare feet was loud in your twitching ears. His name slowly fell from your lips, like a drop of poison. The curl of your lips grimaced as the syllables left your tongue. He was an insider for the sky people, and could not be left to fester within your home.

You quickly stood, grabbing your bow and arrows, and balancing your feet against the edge of the wood. At this height, you concluded that it was the creature you were looking for, as his movements around the forest were hasty and unfamiliar. Placing your arrows into their quiver, situated on your back, you jumped gracefully down onto the floor. The luminescent green colour of the leaves immediately grew as your skin connected with the plants.

Keeping the figure in your eyesight, you dropped to your hands and feet, keeping low to avoid detection. Your feet patted gently against the forest floor, as your hands quickly moved any bushes obstructing your view. You saw his figure turn into a small dip in the ground, an area covered by glistening trees, blue. Now you stood, your pace quickening with the advantage of being placed on your feet.

When you reached the secluded area, you brushed the drooping leaves aside, stepping into the glowing space. His back was turned to you, standing straight and strong. You quietly released an arrow and placed it into your bow, drawing the string far back, and aiming it directly at his head. You took a small step forward, the ground crunching beneath your feet. His ears twitched with the sound, immediately he started to turn around.

“Jake-Sully” You spoke, your grip tightening around the bow, hand beginning to cramp. He let out a small sound of surprise. “You are trespassing on our land.”

His eyes flashed with humour, “Easy girl.” He laughed, his hands raising to either side of his face. You pulled the bowstring back further in retaliation.

“Do not insult me.” You took a step forward. His face was soft in the cool glow and his features seemed boyish in close proximity. Innocence radiated across his form, but you knew better than to trust this version of him. “You know what you have done.”

Jake’s head tilted, questioning your motives with a flash of his eyes and raise of eyebrows. “I’ve been nothing but good to your people.” He stated. “I know you may not trust me for who I am, but I know I’ve tried my best to appreciate and learn your way of life.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned loudly in annoyance. Your arrow stayed aimed at his head. “Eywa chose you, why?”

He smirked in response, lowering his arms. A gesture that made your skin crawl and you moved your bow, indicating that he should keep them up. He obeyed.

“I’ve been asking myself the same damn question.”

“You are ignorant, stupid and do not care for our world.” You snarled, “You are working for your kind, you don’t want to protect us.”

He sighed, his tail swishing in annoyance. His nose creased, “Now who’s insulting who?” He muttered.

Your arrow tightened in your grasp, the pain between your fingers becoming overbearingly sore. In a flash, you turned your bow to face its attention directly next to his ear and released. The arrow pierced the air in a motion blur which spiralled out of the space beyond the trees, after nipping Jake on the tip of his ear. His hands suddenly dropped from the air, reaching up to cup his face in surprise. Your ears moved at the sound of his pathetic cries, and your tail swung angrily.

“You are no warrior.” You stated, arm lowering the empty bow to your side. You scoffed as you looked at his terrified face, his eyes wide and pupils dilated.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” He yelled, spit flying across the space that separated your bodies. “You could’ve killed me!”

“But I didn’t.” You frowned, mocking his childish expression.

“You are unbelievable.” He mumbled, stepping forward, an indication that he was leaving. Yet, your hand, dropping the bow, reached out to place a palm on his chest, stopping his motions.

“Why are you really here, Jake?” Venom was still evident in your tone, yet with his proximity, your voice lowered. His eyes flickered, as he stared down at you, and your hand flat on his body. “And don’t tell me your story of hope and justice.”

Jake’s chest rose and fell under the weight of your hand, his heartbeat quickening. “If you don’t want to hear it, I can’t tell you.”

Your feet stepped closer to him, your faces almost touching with breath intertwining in the warm air. Your body almost accompanied your hand, flushed against his humid skin, his sweat and scent. “I know you are not here for peace.” You pause, “You are here for war.”

“I promise you, I’m not.” He mumbled, his breath spilling onto your face. Your eyes, connected in a weary trance, narrowed. You stepped away, hand falling back to your side. A breath he was holding in fell from his lips in quick exhaustive sounds. Your eyes fell to the floor.

“Lying betrays trust.” You stated, looking back into his eyes now, his eyelids heavy. “Not that I trust you, but others do.”

He sighed, his eyes closing for a brief moment, taking in the words you had spoken to him. In the silence, you could faintly hear the noises of the tribe far behind you two, and the growing sounds of the forest. Jake brought a hand up to scratch his forehead in defeat.

“Y’know, I’ve changed over time, right?” He asked, staring directly into your eyes, apology dripping off his tongue. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“Be out with it!” You cried, flinging our hands out towards him and pushing him backwards, however, his strength kept him firmly in place. Your hands rested on his chest in tight fists.

“I was recruited to gain your trust and lure you out of your home so that the humans could obtain some materials.” He breathed, looking straight ahead now.

You understood plainly what the statement meant, and all the nasty details it entailed. It would cause the collapse of the tribe's home, and all your memories would vanish when the tree fell. Your eyes pricked with angry tears, desperately trying to blink them away. You knew this would be the case. That Jake was not a friend, he was not worthy of anyone’s trust. Your head lulled forward, connecting with his chest, seeking comfort and not caring who you were connected to. Your fist bashed against his skin, yet he did not yell when your cries came.

“You liar!” You yelled, your vocal cords straining with the anger in your voice. “We trusted you!”

Your heart burned, creating a large searing hole in your chest. Agony filled your senses. Pain. Betrayal. Lies. Your tail swatted the air, as your fist pounded his chest. Tears were streaming down your cheeks in harsh floods.

Slowly you felt strong arms around you, pulling your body further into him. Your forehead disconnected from his chest, and you stared up at him, eyes widened. His calloused hands rested themselves on either side of your thighs, cupping your flesh close to him.

“But you wanna know why I didn’t?” He breathed, close to your face. His essence empowered your body and captivated your mind. However, you always found he was captivating your mind.

Long sleepless nights were crowded with the thoughts of him, why he was here and what he wanted. Yet often your mind wandered to what he did do here, and what the positive aspects of his arrival had been. Some nights you had been overcome with emotions of jealousy and hate towards the women whom he spoke to in the village. Yet you reassured yourself that this was felt due to the unwanted circumstances of his arrival. You reassured yourself it was due to his dream-walker persona that you felt the way you did. But now, with his hands wrapped around your body, so close that his breath was yours. You knew why your hatred grew so strong. Why you had a feeling it was against your honour to speak to him, let alone be in the same room with him. Many had shared their hatred and doubts, but none had been as obsessed as you had.

His eyes stared softly down at you. The same eyes that only moments before had widened with fright and annoyance. Eyes that clouded your dreams in soft fog which lifted into a pink sea of foam. The eyes you had caught glances of while he laughed, smiled, cheered. Your ears twitched in recognition of his low voice, rumbling into your ears. “Because I fell in love.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as the puzzle pieces slowly started to mould together, bonding into newfound information. The reason you became hot and flustered around even the slight mention of his name was not due to hatred. Those hot flushes in the night due to his appearance in your mind were due to the same thing. Love. His words suddenly made the tears jerking your eyes spill again, drowning your cheeks in clear liquid.

“I’m sorry I probably shouldn’t have said anything.” He whispered, one of his hands reaching up to cup your cheek and wipe the tears away. In retaliation, your hand began reaching up from your side, raised to meet his grasp and interlink your fingers together, closely. Your hands meet in front of your faces.

“Jake…” You breathed, standing up straight and touching your forehead with his. Your new realisation was difficult to express in the form of words, your brain was still wracked with this new information it had been presented with.

He slowly lowered your hands to the side, and spoke your name, close and low. The sound of your syllables falling off his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, and the back of your neck grew hotter as his hand on your waist pulled you increasingly closer. “I chose you long ago.” He purred, “I just wonder if you’ll choose me.”

His head slowly lowered, in a gesture that made the hairs on your arms stand on end, and a sudden hotness plunge straight to your core. Your eyelashes fluttered as you breathed, “I will always choose you, Jake.”

“Well, then..” He trailed off, his face inches from yours now. “Can I kiss you?”

Your head nodded before your brain could keep up, and in a swift moment, his lips had joined with yours. A gasp tried desperately to escape your lips, but he swallowed it, claiming every breath of yours to be one of his. Your eyes slowly closed, when you submitted to the unfamiliar feeling. His lips moved slowly against yours in seductively intricate movements, like two strangers dancing in the night.

His hand removed itself from your waist and travelled up the side of your naked body, stopping to trace over bumps and scars imprinted on your flesh. His hand soon found its place at the base of your jaw, cupping the shape. His fingers slowly tickled the side of your face as his lips worked their way around yours.

A low sound escaped from his throat, growling as you opened your mouth for his tongue to dive into. Plunging into the abyss that was your hot mouth. Your response was a quiet moan, startled by his new courage, as your tongue licked a stripe up one of his front teeth.

Jake's hand suddenly came to rest on your chin and pulled it away from him as he caught his breath. His chest rising and falling from the action that had just taken place, you noticed how his pupils dilated and grew lustful when soaking in your image. Your breath was raging its way through your lungs and up through your throat in shallow gasps.

“I have dreamed of that moment.” You spoke through breaths. It felt strange to admit it aloud but his face was in every thought you had, even if it had taken you this long to believe it. Your chest fell in one final long breath, which caused the beads on your necklace to clink against each other, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you.

Jake’s eyes had not left you since the kiss broke, but his demeanour was uncharacteristically quiet. His hand had broken the bond with your own and had started roaming your jaw to accompany the other one, yet now he gazed down at you. Not wanting to ruin the moment with a quick movement or a train of thought.

Your hair had become unravelled and had now fallen in front of your eyes, in small ringlets, loose from their original braids. However, neither of you could find the courage to move and fix them back into place behind your ears. Your heartbeat was pounding, your mind wishing that Jake would speak.

“You are beauty.” He finally stated, his hand running down your neck and onto the top of your chest. You felt your cheeks heat up from the compliment, but did not want to look away from his cautious gaze. “I truly believe that.”

You smiled and swore you heard him curse beneath his breath when you did so. Your hands grazed at the front of his chest, as his arms circled your neck. “If you were not from a distant star, I would have thought Eywa had created you for me.” You giggled, “Even if you are stupid, you are also selfless.”

At this, Jake laughed, a sound that echoed through your ear and made your eyes flutter closed. “I guess that combination works.”

You began laughing at this comment and brought yourself forward to kiss him once again. His smile was evident on his lips as your bodies collided once more, your front flushed against his own. The gentle movement of lips which were once hasty began to invade your brain. Short laughs played out underneath the weight of lips, and smiles stopped the kiss from becoming just as intimate as the last.

You broke free of his lips and planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, leaving yourself to linger there for a few moments longer, breathing in his scent. His smile curled when your lips retreated and your feet landed steadily back on the ground, tail swishing mindlessly in happiness. The root of your problems towards Jake was so obvious now, and your raging want for him had so pointlessly turned into disgust.

“Shit.” He smiled, “It was only a couple minutes ago you wanted me dead.”

Your head dropped low, and your eyes focused on the bow laying discarded at your feet. The ground illuminated the placement of the bow, as you recalled the events before Jake had distracted you with his surprising confession. “I don’t know if I should forgive you for what you said before.”

His head now lowered, joining your gaze towards your feet and the weapon situated there. He sighed into your ear, regretting what he had agreed to do, “I understand.” He paused, thinking of what to say next, “You don’t have to forgive me.”

Your head lifted towards his face again, your eyes meeting his as his pupils dilated. “I understand, Jake.” You spoke, “I wish your honesty was not forced by my threats, but I know what it’s like to not want to see the truth.”

Your foreheads met once more, “Please accept my apology, I did not understand my emotions.” You breathed, cupping your hand in his, circling the back of his rough hand with your thumb.

He chuckled, “I should be sayin’ sorry to you for all the shit I’ve put the Omatikaya through.” Your eyes narrowed with his mocking tone, which he quickly discarded. “Which I am, I apologise for everything.”

He gave a quick squeeze to your hand, reaching up and kissing your forehead. Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt his breath against your skin, hand tangled in your grasp. Soon his body returned to its natural stature and your eyes opened.

“I see you.” He spoke, once his eyes were level with yours once more.

“I see you, Jake.” You whispered, bringing your interlinked hands up to your mouth, longingly kissing Jake's knuckles in one long motion.

#hioreh fanfictions #jake sully #jake sully avatar #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #jake sully fanfiction #jake sully fanfics #jake sully fluff #jake sully angst #fanfic #fanfiction #avatar #avatar 2009 #james cameron’s avatar #sam worthington

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whencyclopedia · 1 month

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White Plume

White Plume is a hero tale of the Sioux nation featuring the supernatural trickster figure Unktomi (Iktomi) who serves as a catalyst for transformation, whether for good or ill. In this story, Unktomi is the villain whereas in others, such as The Bound Children, he is a force for good. The tale is among the most popular Sioux legends.

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The following is taken from Myths and Legends of the Sioux (1916) by Marie L. McLaughlin. It has been edited for space considerations, but the unabridged tale will be found below in the External Links section.

There once lived a young couple who were very happy. The young man was noted throughout the whole nation for his accuracy with the bow and arrow, and was given the title of "Dead Shot," or "He who never misses his mark," and the young woman, noted for her beauty, was named Beautiful Dove.

One day a stork paid this happy couple a visit and left them a fine big boy…Time passed, and the boy grew up to a good size, when one day his father said: "Wife, give our son the bow and arrows so that he may learn how to use them." The father taught his son how to string and unstring the bow, and also how to attach the arrow to the string. The red, blue and yellow arrows, he told the boy, were to be used only whenever there was any extra good shooting to be done, so the boy never used these three until he became a master of the art…

One day the boy came running into the tent, exclaiming: "Mother, mother, I have shot and killed the most beautiful bird I ever saw”…The parents decided to give a big feast in honor of their son killing the strange, beautiful bird…The guests soon arrived…The great chief and medicine men pronounced the bird "Wakan" (something holy)…, the chief and councilmen bestowed upon the boy the title of White Plume.

One day, a stranger came to the village, who was very thin and nearly starved…After he had eaten and rested, he told his story.

"I came from a very great distance," said he. "The nations where I came from are in a starving condition. No place can they find any buffalo, deer nor antelope. A witch or evil spirit in the shape of a white buffalo has driven all the large game out of the country…Another evil spirit in the form of a red eagle has driven all the birds of the air out of our country…Many a marksman has tried his skill on this bird, all to no purpose…Another evil spirit in the form of a white rabbit has driven out all the animals which inhabit the ground, and destroyed the fields of corn and turnips, so the nation is starving, as the arrows of the marksmen have also failed to touch the white rabbit. Anyone who can kill these three witches will receive as his reward, the choice of two of the most beautiful maidens of our nation. The younger one is the handsomer of the two and has also the sweetest disposition. Many young, and even old men, hearing of this (our chief's) offer, have traveled many miles to try their arrows on the witches, but all to no purpose. Our chief, hearing of your great marksmanship, sent me to try and secure your services to have you come and rid us of these three witches."

Thus spoke the stranger to the hunter. The hunter gazed long and thoughtfully into the dying embers of the campfire. Then slowly his eyes raised and looked lovingly on his wife who sat opposite to him. Gazing on her beautiful features for a full minute he slowly dropped his gaze back to the dying embers and thus answered his visitor:

"My friend, I feel very much honored by your chief having sent such a great distance for me, and also for the kind offer of his lovely daughter in marriage, if I should succeed, but I must reject the great offer, as I can spare none of my affections to any other woman than to my queen whom you see sitting there."

White Plume had been listening to the conversation and when his father had finished speaking, said: "Father, I am a child no more. I have arrived at manhood. I am not so good a marksman as you, but I will go to this suffering tribe and try to rid them of their three enemies. If this man will rest for a few days and return to his village and inform them of my coming, I will travel along slowly on his trail and arrive at the village a day or two after he reaches there."

"Very well, my son," said the father, "I am sure you will succeed, as you fear nothing, and as to your marksmanship, it is far superior to mine, as your sight is much clearer and aim quicker than mine."

The man rested a few days and one morning started off, after having instructed White Plume as to the trail. White Plume got together what he would need on the trip and was ready for an early start the next morning. That night, Dead Shot and his wife sat up away into the night instructing their son how to travel and warning him as to the different kinds of people he must avoid in order to keep out of trouble. "Above all," said the father, "keep a good look out for Unktomi (spider); he is the most tricky of all, and will get you into trouble if you associate with him."

White Plume left early, his father accompanying him for several miles. On parting, the father's last words were: "Look out for Unktomi, my son, he is deceitful and treacherous."

"I'll look out for him, father;" so saying, he disappeared over a hill.

On the way he tried his skill on several hawks and eagles, and he did not need to use his painted arrows to kill them, but so skillful was he with the bow and arrows that he could bring down anything that flew with his common arrows. He was drawing near to the end of his destination when he had a large tract of timber to pass through. When he had nearly gotten through the timber, he saw an old man sitting on a log, looking wistfully up into a big tree, where sat a number of prairie chickens.

"Hello, grandfather, why are you sitting there looking so downhearted?" asked White Plume. "I am nearly starved and was just wishing someone would shoot one of those chickens for me, so I could make a good meal on it," said the old man. "I will shoot one for you," said the young man. He strung his bow, placed an arrow on the string, simply seemed to raise the arrow in the direction of the chicken (taking no aim). Twang went out the bow, zip went the arrow, and a chicken fell off the limb, only to get caught on another in its descent.

"There is your chicken, grandfather."

"Oh, my grandson, I am too weak to climb up and get it. Can't you climb up and get it for me?"

The young man, pitying the old fellow, proceeded to climb the tree, when the old man stopped him, saying: "Grandson, you have on such fine clothes, it is a pity to spoil them; you had better take them off so as not to spoil the fine porcupine work on them."

The young man took off his fine clothes and climbed up into the tree, and securing the chicken, threw it down to the old man. As the young man was scaling down the tree, the old man said: "Iyashkapa, iyashkapa," (stick fast, stick fast). Hearing him say something, he asked, "What did you say, old man?" He answered, "I was only talking to myself."

The young man proceeded to descend, but he could not move. His body was stuck fast to the bark of the tree. In vain did he beg the old man to release him. The old Unktomi, for he it was, only laughed and said: "I will go now and kill the evil spirits, I have your wonderful bow and arrows and I cannot miss them. I will marry the chief's daughter, and you can stay up in that tree and die there."

So saying, he put on White Plume's fine clothes, took his bow and arrows, and went to the village. As White Plume was expected at any minute, the whole village was watching for him, and when Unktomi came into sight the young men ran to him with a painted robe, sat him down on it and slowly raising him up they carried him to the tent of the chief. So certain were they that he would kill the evil spirits that the chief told him to choose one of the daughters at once for his wife. (Before the arrival of White Plume, hearing of him being so handsome, the two girls had quarreled over which should marry him, but upon seeing him the younger was not anxious to become his wife.) So Unktomi chose the older one of the sisters and was given a large tent in which to live.

The younger sister went to her mother's tent to live, and the older was very proud, as she was married to the man who would save the nation from starvation. The next morning, there was a great commotion in camp, and there came the cry that the white buffalo was coming. "Get ready, son-in-law, and kill the buffalo," said the chief.

Unktomi took the bow and arrows and shot as the buffalo passed, but the arrow went wide off its mark. Next came the eagle, and again he shot and missed. Then came the rabbit, and again he missed.

"Wait until tomorrow, I will kill them all. My blanket caught in my bow and spoiled my aim."

The people were very much disappointed, and the chief, suspecting that all was not right, sent for the young man who had visited Dead Shot's tepee. When the young man arrived, the chief asked: "Did you see White Plume when you went to Dead Shot's camp?"

"Yes, I did, and ate with him many times. I stayed at his father's tepee all the time I was there," said the young man.

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?" asked the chief.

"Anyone who had but one glimpse of White Plume would surely recognize him when he saw him again, as he is the most handsome man I ever saw," said the young man.

"Come with me to the tent of my son-in-law and take a good look at him, but don't say what you think until we come away."

The two went to the tent of Unktomi, and when the young man saw him, he knew it was not White Plume, although it was White Plume's bow and arrows that hung at the head of the bed, and he also recognized the clothes as belonging to White Plume. When they had returned to the chief's tent, the young man told what he knew and what he thought.

"I think this is some Unktomi who has played some trick on White Plume and has taken his bow and arrows and also his clothes, and hearing of your offer, is here impersonating White Plume. Had White Plume drawn the bow on the buffalo, eagle, and rabbit today, we would have been rid of them, so I think we had better scare this Unktomi into telling us where White Plume is," said the young man.

"Wait until he tries to kill the witches again tomorrow," said the chief.

In the meantime, the younger daughter had taken an axe and gone into the woods in search of dry wood. She went quite a little distance into the wood and was chopping a dry log. Stopping to rest a little she heard someone saying: "Whoever you are, come over here and chop this tree down so that I may get loose."

Going to where the big tree stood, she saw a man stuck onto the side of the tree. "If I chop it down the fall will kill you," said the girl. "No, chop it on the opposite side from me, and the tree will fall that way. If the fall kills me, it will be better than hanging up here and starving to death," said White Plume, for it was he.

The girl chopped the tree down and when she saw that it had not killed the man, she said: "What shall I do now?"

"Loosen the bark from the tree and then get some stones and heat them. Get some water and sage and put your blanket over me." She did as told and when the steam arose from the water being poured upon the heated rocks, the bark loosened from his body and he arose. When he stood up, she saw how handsome he was.

"You have saved my life," said he. "Will you be my wife?"

"I will," said she.

He then told her how the old man had fooled him into this trap and took his bow and arrows, also his fine porcupine worked clothes, and had gone off, leaving him to die. She, in turn, told him all that had happened in camp since a man, calling himself White Plume, came there and married her sister before he shot at the witches, and when he came to shoot at them, missed every shot. "Let us make haste, as the bad Unktomi may ruin my arrows."

They approached the camp and whilst White Plume waited outside, his promised wife entered Unktomi's tent and said: "Unktomi, White Plume is standing outside, and he wants his clothes and bow and arrows."

"Oh, yes, I borrowed them and forgot to return them; make haste and give them to him."

Upon receiving his clothes, he was very much provoked to find his fine clothes wrinkled and his bow twisted, while the arrows were twisted out of shape. He laid the clothes down, also the bows and arrows, and passing his hand over them, they assumed their right shapes again.

The daughter took White Plume to her father's tent and, upon hearing the story, he at once sent for his warriors and had them form a circle around Unktomi's tent, and if he attempted to escape to catch him and tie him to a tree, as he (the chief) had determined to settle accounts with him for his treatment of White Plume, and the deception employed in winning the chief's eldest daughter.

About midnight, the guard noticed something crawling along close to the ground and seizing him found it was Unktomi trying to make his escape before daylight, whereupon they tied him to a tree. "Why do you treat me thus," cried Unktomi, "I was just going out in search of medicine to rub on my arrows, so I can kill the witches." "You will need medicine to rub on yourself when the chief gets through with you," said the young man who had discovered that Unktomi was impersonating White Plume.

In the morning, the herald announced that the real White Plume had arrived, and the chief desired the whole nation to witness his marksmanship. Then came the cry: "The White Buffalo comes." Taking his red arrow, White Plume stood ready. When the buffalo got about opposite him, he let his arrow fly. The buffalo bounded high in the air and came down with all four feet drawn together under its body, the red arrow having passed clear through the animal, piercing the buffalo's heart. A loud cheer went up from the village.

"You shall use the hide for your bed," said the chief to White Plume.

Next came a cry, "The eagle, the eagle." From the north came an enormous red eagle. So strong was he, that as he soared through the air his wings made a humming sound as the rumble of distant thunder. On he came, and just as he circled the tent of the chief, White Plume bent his bow, with all his strength drew the arrow back to the flint point and sent the blue arrow on its mission of death. So swiftly had the arrow passed through the eagle's body that, thinking White Plume had missed, a great wail went up from the crowd, but when they saw the eagle stop in his flight, give a few flaps of his wings, and then fall with a heavy thud into the center of the village, there was a greater cheer than before.

"The red eagle shall be used to decorate the seat of honor in your tepee," said the chief to White Plume.

Last came the white rabbit. "Aim good, aim good, son-in-law," said the chief. "If you kill him, you will have his skin for a rug." Along came the white rabbit, and White Plume sent his arrow in search of rabbit's heart, which it found, and stopped Mr. Rabbit's tricks forever.

The chief then called all of the people together and before them all took a hundred willows and broke them one at a time over Unktomi's back. Then he turned him loose. Unktomi, being so ashamed, ran off into the woods and hid in the deepest and darkest corner he could find. This is why Unktomis (spiders) are always found in dark corners, and anyone who is deceitful or untruthful is called a descendant of the Unktomi tribe.

#History #Sioux

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