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#anyway i want to draw grace so shes next
loupy-mongoose · 2 months
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So, I made some impulse purchases recently, including this lovely little gal.
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Hai Luna~
When I ordered her, it started a bit of a Gardevoir kick in me. So I went and did some brainstorming about Jamie's Gardie pal, Clover.
This did get very long, but there's a lot of art that I really like! :3 Plus I borrowed a certain someone from @mewtwoandme~
Growing up I always drew the green headpiece as a bony structure with maybe green skin on it, like deer antlers. (Except it doesn't shed lol)
But in my efforts to redecide what it actually is to me, I went to Bulbapedia, and that called it hair. So I tried out hair as well, and I kinda like that better...
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I love my deranged Gardie. :>
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(Leaning into "Mischievous Fairy/Pixie" energy)
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I wanted to draw some Gwen (M&M's Gardevoir), as her and Clover's characters are different in a lot of ways, and I thought it would be fun to draw them together. Turns out Gwen dwarfs my girls, and I adore that in every way. XD
I also came to realize that Jamie would admire Gwen--She doesn't wish change on Clover in the slightest, but she does like the grace that more conventional Gardevoirs possess. Plus she'd be astounded by her sheer size.
For the fun of it, I tried drawing them both in each of our styles. (Or more like "Features" than "style")
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I did not like drawing Gardevoir in her style. All the respect and love to M&M, but it felt SO wrong to me personally. XD
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Annnnd... I kinda accidentally thought of a different way to take their designs...
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And then I tried to figure out the logistics of giving Gardvoir a tail. I kinda like the idea of there being one that blends into the Skirt, splitting and running down the length of the skirt ends.
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A little character lore; Clover removed her skirt on purpose.
Growing up, I always had in mind that the skirt was skin, maybe acting as thermoregulation, or something like that. I don't think I ever decided whether they can feel through their skirts or not, but if I want it to be more angsty, then yes, they can feel.
Warning for general and self-inflicted injury in this paragraph. As a kid I figured Clover cut it off to prevent it from getting caught or grabbed. But now, with the developing idea of there being a tail involved, I got another idea with even more angst. I'm thinking possibly Clover had a tail bone broken, and maybe it healed wrong, causing her pain so she ripped off the whole skirt.
Okay, injury warning is over.
And now a little silly that's not exactly canon, but close enough. XD
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Y'all can thank @puzzled-zebra for this, as she brought up the idea during a chat. It was too good to pass up. XD
And now I wish to finish with a nostalgia ramble, because Clover is very precious to me, along with Jamie.
I started a playthrough of Soul Silver many, many years ago--even before the playthrough that would become Jamie's trainer journey over ten years ago. It was a solo run, with a Ralts egg sent in to be my only companion. (I kept the rules soft, though, as I remember needing help from other Pokemon to beat Bugsy. XD) My memories of that playthough are faded, but I remember that Clover alone beat the Champion at level 64-65. Sometime within the next few years, she was my first ever Pokemon to reach level 100 without the use of Rare Candy or experience cheats. That playthough and whatever happened in it has no bearing on Clover's story, but it's what gave birth to her as a character, and I hold that very dear.
Her nature is "Hardy, Likes to Fight", and I'm really proud of little me for taking that in the direction she took it. XD
Anyway, that's my super long love-dump of my beloved gremlin fairy. Thanks to everyone who made it all the way, I know it got pretty long. ^^
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chakkll · 5 months
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Worries, Worries
Mike Schmidt x gender neutral!reader
Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy’s
Synopsis: Mike’s been doing better. He hasn’t dreamed of his brother since Freddy’s and hasn’t needed sleeping pills for almost a week now. Well, at least he thought he was doing better.
Warnings: Post movie, established relationship, fluff
Word count: 1k
*please forgive how short and probably rusty it is, it’s been a minute since i’ve posted!
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Everything’s been good. One might say almost too good.
Mike has been sleeping well, been happier, and been getting along with his sister better, all because of what happened at Freddy’s.
But all this goodness is making Mike nervous. You can feel it.
“You sure you don’t want me to tuck you in?” You call after Abby as she shuffles down the hall, her drawings and crayons tucked into her arm.
A soft “yeah” is all you get in return before you hear Abby’s door shut. You smile to yourself before glancing to the clock.
9:32pm. Mike will be home soon.
Mike asking you to watch over his little sister in the evenings has become part of your schedule. He has Fridays and Saturdays off, but other than that, you’re cooking Abby’s dinner and making sure she gets some sleep, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Some might think it an inconvenience to constantly watch over your boyfriend’s little sister and end up seeing her more than him, but you adore Abby.
Sure, she might not talk very much, but she’s a very creative girl. It’s hard not to like her.
When Mike first introduced you to each other, Abby ignored your greetings and went right back to her room to draw. At first, you were pretty sad about her initial reaction to you and Mike’s relationship, but Mike managed to convince you that her reaction was a positive one.
That was five months ago.
Now, Abby draws next to you instead of in her room and will answer questions about the drawings. Plus, if you catch her in the right mood, she’ll tell you about her friends.
You yawn as you flick through the TV channels until you land on a documentary about seals. You glance to the clock.
9:46pm. Mike will be home soon.
Your eyes drift from the clock to the floor. A rather beaten up book lays half open, a ripped page on display.
You heave yourself off the couch and over to the book. You carefully pick it up and close it to see the cover.
Dream Theory. Interesting.
You flip to the back to read the blurb while walking back to the sofa.
You flop back onto the couch and flip to the first page. The seal documentary plays in the background, the narrator now detailing the wonders of how they hunt.
You prop your head up on the armrest and lay down, reading through the book.
Just as you’re getting invested in the book, you hear the lock unlock. Turning the TV off with a click, you turn around, only to be met with the sight of your exhausted boyfriend. You smile.
“Hey,” You greet as you get up and off the couch to meet him at the door.
Mike nods and grunts a small “Hey, baby.”
“How was work?”
Mike shrugs, and his gaze drifts down to the book in your hand. He blinks.
“You’re reading my book?” He asks curiously, causing you to glance to the book.
“Oh… yeah. Sorry.” You apologize bashfully and hand him the book, resting your other arm at your side.
Mike shakes his head dismissively at your apology. “What d’you think?”
You stare at him blankly. “…What?”
“The book. What do you think of the book? The theory?”
Realization dawns on you. When you see an eager glint in Mike’s eyes, you weakly shrug.
“I mean… I’m not too far in, but it seems interesting.”
A hint of a smile graces Mike’s lips. “So it seems possible.” You nod.
You smile softly at his excitement from your words.
“Anyways…” You wrap your arms around his neck for a hug. “How was work?” You ask again.
His arms loosely wrap around your waist as he buries his head into your neck. “Fine,” He murmurs quietly. “How’s Abby? Did she eat dinner?”
You smile at his worry for his sister. “Yeah. And she drew next to me afterwords.” At your words, you can feel Mike relax.
“She’s been doing better. You’ve been doing better. I can tell.” A low chuckle rumbles from his chest.
“I don’t know about that.” He murmurs dismissively into your shoulder.
You blink, frowning at his words. “What makes you say that? You haven’t dreamt of Garrett since Freddy’s, right?” You pull away from the hug and rest your hands on his shoulders. His hands come to rest on your hips as he sighs softly.
“Well, no…”
“So why do you say that?” You frown softly, bringing a hand to cup his face.
“Just… things have been going smoothly. Almost—almost too smoothly.” Mike mumbles, leaning into your touch as his eyes flutter closed.
You sigh again. “Mike… look at me,” He reluctantly opens his eyes, but his gaze rests on your chin instead of your eyes.
“You’re okay. You have a new job that has pretty okay pay and hours, both Abby and you are happier, and you know what happened to Garrett. Right?”
Mike stubbornly stares at your chin, staying silent.
“So why do you say that, baby?”
“I just…” Mike trails off. “…I’m used to having something to worry about.”
You frown. “What, and there’s nothing to worry about now?”
Mike blinks and slowly looks to your eyes. “…Huh?”
“I don’t mean to make you feel worse, but you still have things to worry about.”
You can see panic rise in Mike’s eyes. “What… what do I have to worry about?”
You smile fondly at your boyfriend.
“You gotta think of a present for me for our six-month anniversary.”
You can practically see the gears turning in the man’s head as he stares at you quizzically. Finally, he cracks a smile.
“…Weird way to comfort me.” He looks away, smiling to himself.
“Yeah, but what else would get you to smile?” Mike rolls his eyes, causing you to chuckle. Your gaze drifts to the kitchen, reminding you that Mike almost never has dinner when he works evenings.
“You didn’t have dinner, right? I’ll make you something.” You start to head to his kitchen to quickly make him something to eat.
“…Wait.” Mike murmurs softly, lightly grabbing your sleeve.
You turn to him curiously, only to see a slightly bashful Mike staring at the floor.
“…Sleep here tonight?”
You can feel yourself smiling. “Of course.”
Mike’s shoulders visibly relax.
“Now, let’s get you something to eat.”
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dark-and-kawaii · 4 months
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༺ 𝒯𝒾𝑒𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 & 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒟𝓇𝓊𝒾𝒹 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓃 ༻
A cute idea I came up with right after writing the first part. I love the thought of these men having cute little Druid babies that turn themselves into kittens. Enjoy ♡
PRT 1 (Click Here) - Zevlor - Rolan - Dammon -
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- 𝒵𝑒𝓋𝓁𝑜𝓇 -
In the quiet darkness of your bedroom, Zevlor and you lay curled up together, finding solace in each other's warmth. Zevlor, with a gentle smile on his face as he slept, had his tail gently resting against your hip as he held you close. Your shared bed a place where the two of you could find peace after a long day.
As the night wore on, a muffled cry broke the silence, piercing through your sons room. Your son, a young tiefling druid, had been plagued by a troubling nightmare that caused him to shift into a small kitten in his sleep. Unable to shake off the remnants of his nightmare, and now stuck in his wildshape form he wandered towards his parents' room. His tiny paws padded silently through the moonlit corridors, seeking the loving presence of his parents. He soon reached your bedroom door, filled with a sense of urgency. In his feline form, he struggled to leap onto the high bed, his little paws desperately pawing at the loose sheets hanging down instead, an attempt to stir his parents' slumber.
Faint squeaks of distress escaped his tiny, furry throat, tugging on Zevlor's slumbering consciousness. Stirring awake, he blinked away the remnants of sleep, realizing the source of the commotion. As Zevlor turns his gaze towards his son he notices his struggles and the worry etched on his feline face. Understanding the turmoil his son was in, and with his own concern he swiftly acted, “There there, I have you little one.”
With a graceful twist of his tail, Zevlor coiled it around the frightened kitten known as his precious son, wrapping him in its comforting embrace. Lifting him with delicate care, Zevlor brought his son into the warm cocoon of his shared bed, drawing him towards his chest and into the sanctuary of his embrace.
You, roused by the commotion, opened your eyes to observe the scene with tender eyes. Understanding the depth of your son’s distress, you shifted yourself closer to both your son and Zevlor, your arms wrapping around his to help create a castle of love around your son. His feline form slowly dissipating as he felt the love and reassurance from both you and his father.
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- 𝑅𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓃 -
The past week you’ve been bugging Rolan to have another child, claiming he makes the best father… which he does, but in actuality you wanted a child to carry out your Druid bloodline. Rolan on the other hand was content with the two he already had, in all truth he’s not even sure how he ended up with two, he barely wanted one and now you’re asking for another. So, Rolan did what he knew best and tried to keep you distracted by showing off some magic up in his tower as he worked.
The air around them crackled with auras of magic, Rolan’s audience was none other than his dearest family. You, with a smile warm as a summer's eve, his daughter, on your lap, beaming with sparkling joy, and his son, sprawled on a desk while Lia and Cal watch next to you.
"Daddy is so cool!" Your daughter tittered, clapping her hands wildly in appreciation and childish glee. “Usually he has performance issues,” Cal snorted back to his niece, “but I guess he’s past those days since he had yo-“ Lia elbowed Cal in the ribs while shooting him a look of disagreement, “Let Rolan have his moment! Besides, she has no idea what you’re talking about anyway!”
Rolan only sighs, “Don’t listen to them sweetheart.”
You looked on fondly at the scene; your daughter's overjoyed excitement and Rolan's faint smirk of pride making her smile. But of course, you couldn't let him off so easily, poking at him was just always too easy.
"Oh Rolan, it's always the same trick. I was hoping for something new today," You wink at your tiefling husband, pulling your daughter extra close. His son piped up in agreement, "Yeah dad, do something else."
Rolan turned around, responding to his son with a wry smile. "Patience! I’m working up to it-" As he spun, his careless movements knocked over a potion bottle conveniently close to where his son sat. And in that moment, the area was shrouded in a haze of green smoke.
When the smoke dissipated, sitting there was an infernal kitten where their son had been. “ROLAN!” You let out a gasp, quickly covering your mouth with your hand. The little tiefling girl, by contrast, erupted in laughter, shouting, "kitty!" The son turned kitten meowed in response, looking quizzically at his surprised family.
“Gooood job, Rolan. That’s definitely a new one for the books.” Cal clapped slowly at his brother. Lia just held her head, shaking it tired of Cal’s remarks.
Rolan pointed at their now feline son. “Brilliant! See, no need to try for another child, you have your Druid bloodline right here!" He was swiftly met with a death glare from you, his wife, yet the quip in his smirk did not falter. "I’m only teasing, love…partially."
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- 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝓂𝑜𝓃 -
Dammon and you found yourselves enveloped in a rare moment of silence. Your three children, seemingly lost in slumber. With a sense of anticipation and romance, Dammon took it upon himself to prepare an exquisite dinner for the two of you. The enticing aroma of your favorite dishes wafted through the air, setting the mood for an lovely evening. Soft candlelight bathed the table, casting dancing shadows that added a nice touch to your surroundings.
“It’s been a while since we’ve been able to do something like this, let’s not waste the rest of the night, shall we?” Dammon rose from his seat, a warm smile illuminating his face. He extended a hand towards you, his eyes shimmering with affection. "May I have the this dance, my love?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness and a slight blush across his cheeks.
Stepping outside and into your small garden, the moonlight bathed you both in a gentle glow. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, your feet gliding across the ground as if guided by unseen forces. Dammon's tail swayed gracefully in time with the rhythm.
Your children on the other hand were indeed not sleeping and instead joined the two of you outside, hidden by the magic of their druidic lineage, had transformed into three adorable kittens. Their tiny paws treaded silently across the grass as they approached their dancing parents, their eyes wide with wonder.
As Dammon and you twirled and spun, your laughter and joyous whispers filled the air. The kittens, their tiny tails swaying in unison, watched their parents in awe.
Just as their father wrapped his tail around your leg before pressing his forehead against yours, your eldest son of the three, couldn't help but wiggle his tail, imitating his father's playful gesture and wrapping his tail around his brothers’. Your youngest daughter, the mischievous one, attempted to spin in circles, her tiny body mirroring the dizziness she felt from watching the dance. The middle son, the most observant of the trio, took in every delicate movement while his brother messed with his tail.
With an accidental stumble, your youngest daughter or rather kitten, tumbled out of her hiding place, landing with a soft thud into the opening. The sudden noise caught Dammon and yours attention, your dance interrupted by the unexpected sound.
Dammon's lips curled into a playful smile, his arms crossed over his chest as he raised a single eyebrow.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" he said, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and affection.
You, unable to hide your own smile, stepped towards the kittens, your eyes filled with love as you extended a gentle hand, beckoning them closer to join the two if you.
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azsazz · 7 months
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Friend or Foe
Eris x Azriel x Reader
Summary: I mixed these two anon requests together, and hopefully it went alright :) "I was just thinking about Azriel beging a mate with a mother of dragons (like in game of thrones) ot would be so powerful... like, sm" and "Request! A Eris x Archeron!yn fic. Imagine a prythian where the high lords are not good and friendly with each other and are now planning a war over one another to take down the court next to them and rule over. Now after a LOT of convincing Autum Court and Night court are forced in a alliance between each other because of yn. Now imagine if one of them sabotages the alliance! What will happen? Who will yn choose? Will she be able to choose between her sisters and mate?"
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 2,901
Notes: The beginning is kinda shit but I wanted to share anyway.
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You sigh softly, admiring your mate in his sleep. His unruly amber hair splays across the fluffy pillow beneath his head, and the strong smattering of freckles dot his cheeks like embers, glowing in the morning light.
He has one arm thrown across his eyes, blocking the warm sun that’s peeking in the windows. You’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night, after Eris had growled at the handmaidens to remove themselves from his chambers as he took you to the bed and ravaged you all night, not having seen you for moons now. 
He’d been so excited to see you, though he wouldn’t let Azriel catch him in that state, no matter if they were also connected by the bond. An unfortunate thing, that the alliance between the two courts was not stronger, and it sometimes felt as if you were the only reason the deal was made in the first place. 
As if sensing your gaze on him, he blinks awake sleepily, a smile gracing his gorgeous face when he catches you looking.
“Good morning, fawn.”
“Good morning, mate.”
His smile widens at that, and he rolls over, scooping you under his body as he cages you in. You squeal, accepting the warmth of his body and the plethora of kisses he presses to your skin. You’re enjoying each other’s happiness this morning.
“I want to show you something,” he says suddenly, drawing away from you. You puff a laugh, brushing his hair back from his eyes. He’s positively giddy, an emotion you don’t usually see on your mate, but you’re thankful for his mood this morning. 
“Okay,” you grin, “Where are we going?”
He presses a kiss to your mouth and pushes himself from bed, dragging you up with him. “I can’t tell you,” he answers, but he’s beaming, moving around the room like he’s just been named High Lord. “I only ask that you wear something you can walk in.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
What Eris shows you takes your breath away.
He takes you through the forest, so deep into the woods that you have to take horses, and after you tie them to a tree to wait, its still a few miles to get to where he wants. 
You enjoy it though, the serenity of the woodland around you, hand tucked in the warmth of your mates, and you don’t understand why Eris is stopping you in the middle of a clearing until he’s gesturing down to your feet.
You gasp, taking a step back at the sight of three large eggs, huddled together near the edge of the clearing.
“What is this?” You ask, in disbelief. They’re the largest eggs you’ve ever seen, and you don’t recognize the coloring one bit.
Eris leans down, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you into his body. “Dragons.”
“Dragons?” you repeat, grasping onto his forearms. But dragons are a myth, creatures that have been extinct and unheard of for centuries, millenia even. “But how—”
“I don’t know,” your mate answers, squeezing you tight. “I found them when I missed you and was wandering deep in the forest. They can help us win the war.”
Yes, yes, they would be able to help win the war. You’re over the moon excited about your mates finding, even though the creatures might be too uncontrollable and young to be such a big part of this upcoming war.
“We have to tell Az, we have to—”
“We can’t.” 
You tear your gaze from the sight, furrowing your brows up at him.
“What do you mean we can’t tell Azriel?” you pull away. Your stomach twists into tight knots, and when Eris tries to reach out for you, you take a step back. His mouth firms and his hand drops to his side, sizzling in the quiet forest around you. “Eris, this could win the war.”
“I know,” he answers, voice harsh. He hadn’t shown you this to share it with your other mate, but to excite you instead, show you how much better off, how much safer you are in his court, with his smokehounds, with his dragons, and with him to protect you. None of those Illyrian swill, with their thin wings and long swords. They were hot headed creatures, more so than any autumn court general he’s seen, and he doesn’t think that Azriel can care for you as well as he can. He sure as hell knows that no one in the Night Court cares for you, they only pretend because you’re Azriel’s mate. 
“What are you saying then?” you ask, voice trembling. You curl your fingers into your thick skirts, suddenly hot under the Autumn sun. You don’t like the way your mate is speaking, like their alliance won’t be honored and instead, they’ll aim for their allies. “That you’ll attack the Night Court?”
Eris stays quiet and your throat aches with emotion. Tears spring to your eyes and you try to shove them away, try to keep your betrayal from leaking down the bond to either of your mates, but Azriel always keeps close tabs on you, and he feels the ache in his body as if it’s him who is feeling all of these conflicting emotions.
What’s going on? He sends to both you and Eris. He knows something is upsetting you, that you’re hurting, but he doesn’t know if Eris is the one doing it or has the situation under control, so he reaches out to the both of you for answers. Are you okay?
Eris flinches at the sound of the shadowsinger in his head. His fiery eyes are both a warning and disappointment. He had hoped to show you this to sway you on your stance in the war, to explain to you how they could never be allies with the Night Court and never would be. That you shouldn’t risk the chance of death to be by Azriel’s side in battle, but flying high in the skies with him, nearly untouchable to the soldiers below.
He shakes his head silently, pleading with you not to let the information slip. You’d be a traitor to your mate, your High Lord, to your court. 
You would be his enemy. 
Tears slip down your cheeks, hot and stinging as they roll down your red cheeks. You can’t do this, you can’t lie to your mate like this, even if he is from a rival court. But as far as the Night Court knows, they have an alliance—it’s why you’re free to spend time with both mates in their respective courts. But now…now you’re not quite sure what to think, where you stand in this war at all.
I’m alright, Az, you send back to him and Eris’ shoulders slump in relief.
You know that Azriel is only responding to you because Eris is stepping closer and reaching a hand out to comfort you, but you still can’t believe him, and you step back from his grasp, inching closer to the dragon eggs behind you. Then why are you so upset, my love?
Eris’ amber gaze flickers to the precious creatures behind you, and you’re quick to respond to your Night Court mate, I can’t talk now, Azriel, there’s something I need to do. I will reach out when I can, and I love you so much.
You realize that it sounds like a goodbye, but you shut that part of your mind away, pushing him from your thoughts to focus on your other mate, standing before you. 
“My fathers plans have not been flushed out yet, but I assume taking the territory of the Night Court is on the list of what he’s willing to accomplish by the end of this war,” Eris explains to you.
Your stomach bottoms out. You can’t believe he’s telling you this. You can’t believe he’s going along with this.
“Is it because of Azriel?” you ask, but it's no louder than a whisper as the thought takes root in your mind. Did Eris agree to infiltrate the Night Court to try and get rid of your other mate? So that he could be your only fate?
If he does accomplish something like that, you will never forgive him.
Eris’ gaze softens, as if he knows the direction of your thoughts. “No,” his voice is gentle, like that of a crisp orange leaf falling from the trees around you. The long grass rustles beneath your feet and the chill sends shivers down your spine. Eris reaches out again, trying to take your hand, to comfort his mate in need, but you’re having none of him right now, and it stings. “It’s because of my father.”
“So kill him,” you plead, desperately, and Eris flinches. Crows flee the clearing at your screams, and your desperation grows thickly in the sunlight space. “You can’t do this to them! To us!”
Your name is a sigh of frustration on his lips and it makes you still, heart pounding in your chest as your anger flares. Eris is distraught, you can see it in the purple rings beneath his eyes, the despair in his eyes, how he runs his fingers through his hair, pulling on it as if it holds all of the solutions to his problem. 
“Do you think I want this?” His voice is laced with smoke and the grass around his feet burst into flames. It makes you ache for him, but you don’t understand what’s going on, and Eris can’t seem to explain it to you. “The last thing I want is to take you from your other mate,” he gasps, but when you open your mouth to try and calm him down, to stop him from burning down the clearing around you, he continues. “I don’t care that he’s your mate too, I don’t care. I would never take him from you nor you from him.”
“Eris,” you try, “Then tell me what’s going on.”
He collapses to his knees as he tries to explain but the words are as tangled on his tongue as they are in his mind. He can’t get his head straight, he doesn’t know what to do, how to stop any of this. “I—”
He’s interrupted by the sound of cracking. It ricochets through the forest, through the grasses, and silences the both of you. You turn on your heel, staring down at the dragon eggs you’ve stepped so close to.
Eris whispers your name, calm and stern, “Come over here.”
But you don’t dare move, don’t dare to breathe as you watch the delicate shells of the eggs shatter, shifting with the movement of the creatures inside. 
A green head pokes its head through blinking a few times to get its bearings. The dragon is awfully cute, bits of shell and liquid covering its tiny head as it peeks around, getting its first glimpse of the world.
It caws and leans down to nudge at its siblings. One of the other eggs rustles but the other days motionless, not yet ready to wake and enter the world. 
You want to coo at the little thing, even though you know it's probably dangerous, but its bright eyes stare up at you when it realizes its siblings aren’t far from waking. It shuffles from its shell, stumbling over big paws, adorned with razor sharp claws. It squawks at you again, bounding through the tall grass towards you, and Eris whispers your name again, his hand gentle on your lower back as he tries to usher you away. 
He’s in disbelief. A part of him didn’t think that the eggs would hatch at all, that he wouldn’t have to give the creatures to his father, to use them in the war, but there are no thoughts in his head when the dragon approaches you.
Ignoring Eris’ pleas to back away, you crouch down to its level. The green creature blinks at you again, and behind it, a black tail pops out of another shell, its arrowhead shaped bottom whipping at the shell to crack it further, impatient from being stuck inside its own shell.
The green dragon makes an impatient noise, flames sparking at its mouth as your attention is occupied. “Okay, okay, little one,” you soothe, bringing your attention back to the creature intrigued by you. You reach a hand out and Eris draws in a sharp breath. He looks like he’s ready to drag you out of the clearing but he’s already hurt you enough, and he wants you to be happy. “Welcome to the world.” 
It sniffs your hand before nuzzling into you. Your face splits in a grin, and you reach out to pet along its scaly body. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before, and you already know that when they’re fully grown, they will be the sway in any war, let alone what side you’re on. 
Its sibling saunters over, sniffing at Eris and turning its back on him with a growl. Eris deflates a little, but there’s still one more egg waiting to hatch, and maybe it will like him. 
The black dragon sniffs your hand, eyeing you curiously, cocking its head. Maybe it can smell Azriel on your skin. You were in the Night Court yesterday. The green dragon nips at the other, and you wonder what their genders are, the grass too long for you to see. 
But Eris can tell, somehow. He’s had experience, delivering his shadowhounds’ pups, and he tells you softly, “The green one is a male, and the black, a female.” 
“They’re beautiful,” you say, completely enthralled by the two dragons before you. The green one nuzzles into you again, before catching your hand in its jaws.
You gasp as its sharp yet soft teeth break your skin. Eris swears, planting his hands on your shoulders as if to rip you away from the creature, but you stop him, planting your free hand over his own. It doesn’t hurt that badly, and it's just a curious baby, you let the dragon be.
But he’s not biting you just because he doesn’t know any better. You’re the first fae he’s seen, and he likes the smell of you, the feeling of your intentions in the air. You’d been scared, and he’d felt it inside of his egg. He knew you needed help.
He’s claiming you. 
From the jaw of the dragon, green lines crawl up your arm like blood in your veins. They wrap around your forearm and you gasp at the intricacies it winds into, creating a weave of vines that stop at your elbow. It's a unique mark, you’re his as much as he is yours.
“I think he’s just imprinted on me,” you breathe as the dragon lets go and curls around your calves. The black dragon beats its tail against the ground, uninterested in what her brother is doing, and even less interested in Eris.
“What are you going to name him?” your mate asks, eyes shining pridefully at you. He’s a little hurt that the black dragon won’t give him the time of day, but there’s still hope for the last egg, which the female dragon saunters over to, nipping at the shell to rouse its last sibling.
“Zephyr,” you answer, and you don’t even have to think about it, you know that this name belongs to your dragon. He purrs in response, brushing against you.
His sibling breaks through the shell of the last dragon, waking the golden scaled creature from its slumber. It caws in annoyance, but the female is having none of it, snapping at him to get him moving from the shell. 
The beautiful gold dragon gleams in the sun, and Eris knows immediately that this dragon belongs to him.
Much like yourself, Eris steps forward, letting the last sibling sniff at him, biting him. He feels his flames reaching out the dragon, feels them intertwining with his own power and the creature looks up at him in wonder. The marking by the dragon is similar to yours, a weaving of thin lines glinting gold like its scales from his elbow to hand, looking like a metallic spiderweb. 
When the dragon releases him, he snaps his fingers and the three dragons make noises of shock as a flame appears in his fingers. They sniff and snap at it, but Eris is focused only on the dragon that’s claimed him, “You like that, don’t you, Rory?” 
The golden dragon makes a noise in response that Eris takes as a good sign.
“Eris?” you ask, patting the Zephyrs stomach. Your mate looks at you with excitement glowing in his eyes and you soften, wondering if this will turn the tides of the war, make him change his mind about attacking the Night Court.
“Yes, fawn?” he answers, but you’re looking at the last dragon. She’s settled into the grass a few feet away, watching you both with untrusting eyes, even if her brothers have claimed you both as theirs. She hides in the shadows of the trees, and her glowing blue eyes remind you so much of the mate you have in the Night Court, with a matching set of stones lining his leathers.
It would make sense. There’s three dragons and there’s three of you, you and both of your mates. You have to ask, excitement stirring in your stomach. 
“Do you think she belongs to Azriel?”
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kangaracha · 5 months
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QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 2
pairing chan x reader
genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,
summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.
Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn’t that simple.
status ongoing
taglist OPEN
previous | masterlist | next
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The first thing you hear when you walk in the room is yelling.
You first hear it from down the hall, really, though you don't really realise that it's coming from this room until you reach the door, and you don't appreciate the full volume of the voices until you knock and the door opens, letting the sound escape containment into the hallway. You don't have time to react either - because the face that opens the door for you is strikingly familiar, in the way that faces you see often in photos and on billboards are.
"Y/N?" he asks, pulling the door wider so that you can come in.
"Felix sunbaenim," you reply and bow, though it feels...awkward under the circumstances. You suppose you'll get used to it, now that this is your life. "It's nice to meet you."
He looks uncomfortable too, for a moment, before it is smoothed over with a graceful smile. "You better come in," he says, making room in the doorway for you to step through.
The room that greets you is achingly familiar - a dance studio, like any other in the building, though this one feels a little more personal that the faceless classrooms on the trainee floors. Boys are scattered across the space, practising on the far side of the room, counting out time to themselves, or sitting quietly on their phones. 
Changbin and Hyunjin are the source of the noise; sat together in one corner, but they aren't what draws your eye - no, you look right past them to the lanky figure with his back turned to you, hunched over the laptop that he's connected to the sound system. You've already met Stray Kids' leader, in a way - he'd been there for that long meeting three days ago that had decided your fate, though there hadn't been an opportunity to exchange words then. There hadn't been many words to exchange by the end of the meeting either, not when he'd spent the first hour making it very clear that this was not his idea, nor did he think it was a good one.
You're trying not to be hurt by it. You don't think he really realised that you were in the room until the conversation shifted directly to you, and it wasn't really about you anyway. This is an insular, self-made group, and he didn't like JYP meddling with their affairs when they didn't have to, that was understandable. 
It still makes you nervous to walk into this room and pretend to be one of them, though. There's no pretending that he wants you here, and both of you know that.
"Sorry that I'm late," you say to Felix, tearing your eyes away from the others before one of them can turn around and notice you.
"You're early, actually," he replies, closing the door behind you.
"Am I?" you question. "You guys are already practising." Your head tips towards the two on the far side of the room - Lee Know and I.N. You kind of wish you didn't know their names. It would be easier to fight off the feeling of intimidation then.
"They've been here for an hour already," Felix says, waving a hand in the air. "Come and sit down while Chan-hyung fixes the music."
Wordlessly, you follow him to the long couch that lines the wall, the same sort of place you'd sat with Minseo in Midnight's studio when she told you that you should do this. The louder boys are both sat here too - somehow, you end up right next to them, Felix slumping down on your other side. There's no avoiding how their eyes turn to you now, or the way their smiles dim as they do, their fun interrupted.
"Is this our new maknae?" Hyunjin asks without preamble, leaning forward to see Felix around you.
Felix frowns in confusion. "Isn't she older than us?" he questions. 
None of the three know the answer, silence reigning until Hyunjin's eyes turn to you. "What year?" he asks.
"'98," you answer, and he blinks.
Between you, the sound that erupts from Changbin's mouth is almost loud enough to burst your eardrums. "Maknae-noona," he says, with a grin that gives away just how funny he thinks it is. Felix cracks a laugh, unable to help himself - Hyunjin just looks perplexed, caught up on some implication that you've missed.
"How old are you?" you ask the three of them.
"'99 and 2000," Felix supplies. "Only Chan-hyung is older than you."
"Lee Know is the same age," Hyunjin supplies. Felix shrugs like it doesn't matter, leaning back in his seat.
"This is Changbin and Hyunjin," he says just to you, ignoring the other two the way that you would ignore a pair of hecklers on the sidelines. "Do you know everyone's names?"
"I think so," you say, looking around the room - for each one of the boys you see, a name comes to mind that you're reasonably confident is correct.
"I can introduce you to everyone if you want," Felix offers freely.
"No, that's okay," you say, because you think about meeting all eight of them at once and your stomach kind of drops. "I'll meet everyone as I go...if that's okay." Not that you weren't already nervous walking in, but having to face them all one after another...
"It's a lot of people, huh," Felix says, as if he's reading your mind. You nod, grateful for the understanding.
"Not as many as a trainee class, at least," Hyunjin points out. It's hard to tell if he's trying to be supportive or just letting his thoughts flow straight to his mouth, but at least he's not being mean. You'll take not mean.
"If it's easier to meet everyone now-" you start to say, backtracking as fast as your heart starts to pound. Great start - a whole five minutes, and you've already come off as rude.
"Don't worry about it," Changbin answers you before you can finish, waving away any doubts. "This is weird for us as well."
"Do you have an accent?" Hyunjin cuts in when you don't immediately answer, leaning around Changbin.
"Oh." Unbidden, your eyes cut to Felix. "Yeah. I'm from Australia."
Felix's face lights up. "Hey!" he says, switching easily to English. "Nice!" 
Hyunjin grins, his hands clapping together. "Aussie-racha," he says, pleased with himself.
"She's vocalracha too," Changbin adds. "Everyone has three now."
"Racha?" you question.
"That's what we call our units," Felix explains. "Vocal, dance, rap. And now we have three Aussies as well."
Overhead, music blares from the speakers followed by a cry of success from Chan. "He fixed it," Changbin says, pretending to be dejected even as he springs to his feet, stretching his arms like he's ready to dance.
"And broke my ears," Hyunjin grumbles, following along. Felix stands too, and you follow him to your feet - just in time to catch Chan's eye as he turns away from the computer.
"Y/N," he says. "You made it here okay?"
His voice is warm but his eyes are guarded; wary, of what you might say or do. "Yes, sunbaenim," you answer, bowing just in time that it is still polite.
"Oh, don't worry about honourifics," he says quickly, almost before the words are out of your mouth. "Has anyone sent you anything on what we're doing today? Or...the comeback? Anything?"
Wordlessly, your head shakes. His brow furrows.
"I've run over some of your choreography and songs, since-" The meeting, but you're hesitant to bring that up. No need to remind him that he doesn't want you here, even though so far he's been...nicer than you expected. "-well, two days ago."
"Yeah, the timing is..." a hand reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, "...not great. We're doing choreography for the comeback shows today so we'll run you through that and think about formation changes, and tonight I'll send you all the tracks for the new album and the old ones you'll have to learn? There won't be parts for you yet in any of the newer stuff, but I'll figure that out by next week, and then we'll figure out when we're recording and all of that."
"That sounds good," you reply, blowing out a nervous breath as your heart stutters in your chest. It sounds like a lot, actually, but you can't just back down in the face of hard work, no matter how high it piles up or how quickly it reaches those heights. The time for that was three days ago, when you decided to do this.
(The time for that was six years ago, when you decided to leave everything you knew and everyone you loved, but if you think that far back now, the amount of potential wasted time and the blank future ahead is paralysing.)
"I'll look after her for today," Felix offers, a hand patting Chan's shoulder. "I've got most of the song down anyway."
"Thanks," Chan says, and then turns as someone calls him across the room, pulling him away as quickly as he'd come.
"Come on," Felix says, gesturing for you to follow him.
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TAGLIST
@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @keepswingin
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lunaroserites · 14 days
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Art and Ice
Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.
Summery: This might a 2 or 3 parter. College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that troupe and couldn't help myself)
Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing I think, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Derogatory use of the word puck bunny. Bucky is a playboy. There is not interaction be MC and Bucky quite yet.
Word Court: 1935
Likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!
Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3
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“I don’t know what to do,” you groaned as you threw your head back against the worn couch. 
“I want the project to focus on movement, but lifelike movement. Human movement.” You mocked your professor. It not being nature themed had to be a jab just for you. All your projects were nature related or still motion. 
“Professor Grace wasn’t targeting you,” Wanda said, letting out a chuckle at your dramatics. 
“Are you sure you’re not a drama major?” Pietro laughed as he threw a butter packet at you. 
“You two are the worst,” you sighed as you threw your arm over your eyes. Twins, why did my best friends have to be twins. The world is cruel, your thoughts drift.
“Why don’t you come to the track and draw me?” Pietro wiggled his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes in response.  
“Eh,” you sighed. You didn’t want a solution at the moment. You just wanted to complain. 
“She just wants to vent guys,” Natasha said as she came through the door holding a couple bags of takeout and a box of wine. “And I doubt she wants to see you and the rest of the track team in those tiny little running shorts you call clothing,” she sassed at Pietro. He just laughed, and stuck a pose with his leg up on the bar stool next to the island counter causing you all to laugh with him. 
“Thank you,” you exclaimed as she handed you your food. You threw a 10 at her and settled back down into the couch. 
“You know, you could come by the rink and draw a couple of the guys,” Nat mentioned. Her long term boyfriend was on the hockey team, Clint, a sharpshooting winger nicknamed Hawkeye. 
“Pfft,” you scoffed. “I’m not going to have them think I’m one of those, puck kitties, or whatever they’re called.” 
“Puck bunny,” Wanda chimed in, you pointed your chopstick at her and smiled. 
Natasha let out a loud laugh, one of those full bodied ones, “god they won’t think that.” You raised your eyebrow at her and gave her an incredulous look. 
“I can’t have them showing off because I’m there. I need to get them in their element. Not focused on what I’m doing,” you groaned again. “Biggest issue is I will need permission from the person or people. So they’ll have to know.” 
“Like I said Princessa, draw me. You have my permission,” Pietro winked, you rolled your eyes at him. 
“You’re too obvious of a choice. And as much as Wanda insists that Professor Grace doesn’t have a personal vendetta against me, she’ll love pointing out I picked the safe option,” you whined. 
“Wanda, you haven’t seen Grace in class. She will take any chance to criticize her pieces. Nitpicking to the extreme.” Natasha chimed in, “if it wasn’t for Dr. Rain I think our resident artist would've failed out of this course by now.” Dr. Rain was the head of the art department and after a wholly undergraded piece you submitted last semester Prof. Grace was on thin ice. So she graded you fairly but took every chance to tear you apart in front of the class. 
“I’ll think about the hockey team. It would be the least expected from me anyway,” you signed and got up from the couch taking everyone’s garbage and throwing it out. Football season was over, but the hockey season was in full swing right now and our team was top of the league. 
“They have practice tomorrow night, you should come by and look at it,” Nat said, giving you a knowing look. 
~The Next Day~
That's how you ended up in the rink. Underdressed because you didn’t realize how cold an ice rink would be in the stands. You were right though, about the type of girls that hung out there, they were scantily dressed and leaning over the tunnel that the players exited and entered from. How they weren’t frozen baffled you. 
Nat was sitting reading a chemistry book across from you near the bench, as you didn’t want the team knowing you knew her. Well everyone but Clint. You’ve hung out quite a few times over the past couple years. You took a seat a few rows up opposite the bench near what Nat called the Sin bin (penalty box.) It gave an excellent undisrupted view of the rink and the players as they practiced. 
The sounds of skates gliding over fresh ice and sticks bouncing off it was an almost soothing sound. The puck skittered across the ice as it was passed between teammates and shot toward the empty net. The goalie, a guy named Quill, was performing some kind of ritual at the opposite end of the rink. Nat mentioned he was a bit of an odd duck. But according to her all goalies were odd in their own ways. 
The movement was fluid and easy to follow. How these giant men moved so weightlessly across the ice left you in awe. The Captain of the team was a blonde center named Steve Rogers, better known as Cap. Most of the school knew him, he was in a few of your art classes over the semesters. His girlfriend Peggy, was the student union president. 
The star of the team was his blurry best friend James “Bucky” Barnes. He was a “winger,” with good prospects for the NHL according to Nat as she gave you a lowdown of the team as you guys went there just after practice started. He was nicknamed the White Wolf. How a man of his size moved that easily was mesmerizing, he almost floated over the ice and it looked like he was dancing. He was sinfully handsome as well. Every other week he had a new girl hanging off his arm. Undoubtedly one of those puck bunnies as they were called. He was the talk of the school after the football season concluded. 
It made you dislike him on principle. The sports were definitely more priority in the school and the art department lacked thanks to these overgrown toddlers on skates. But you couldn’t deny his natural handsomeness, he looked effortlessly handsome and it was almost unfair. 
You looked down at your sketch pad that you had been absently scratching at. Bucky seemed to be your muse because you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he effortlessly skated around the rink. You were in danger and you knew it. You gulped and closed the book before quickly gathering your things and leaving. 
It didn’t take Nat long to text you and ask where you went. You sent her a quick message back saying you were cold. Not that Bucky, the school's playboy, had quickly become the muse of your piece. 
“Nat, I thought you said your friend was coming by,” Clint asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 
“She did, she left because she was cold,” Nat chuckled. 
“Anyone know the pretty one watching by the sin bin?” She overheard Wilson ask. “And what she was doing?” 
“I think I was in a couple art classes with her,” Steve mentioned missing your name. 
“I won’t complain if she comes by again,” Barnes said. Wilson raised a brow at him. 
“What, so you can break her heart well?” 
“Look doll, it’s not you,” 
“It’s me.” Wilson and Stark said together. Barnes shot both men a glare. Then the high pitched whine of Barnes newest fling squealed his name and that was Clint and Nat’s queue to hightail it out of there. The collective groans from the rest of the team matched her thoughts. 
~A couple days later~
“Loki, I don’t know what I’m going to do, this project is worth too much for me to go safe,” you sighed as you laid your head on his lap. He was reading some classic novel for his English class in the student commons. His fingers nimbly moved through your hair as he held the book in the other hand. 
“Darling, just go back to the ice rink,” he knew almost immediately when something was up when you were walking together a couple days later. The perspective bastard. Loki was your best friend since middle school, his brother Thor was the star quarterback for the football team in both high school and here. 
“Why would I do that,” you pouted. 
“Because you clearly want to draw this man, and it will ruin you for months just like that piece you did of Helena,” he said shortly. Helena or Hela was his big sister and she was absolutely stunning. You had pined over drawing her for a piece for months before Loki forced you to ask her. It fixed everything and life back to normal after you painted the piece. 
“I hate when you do that,” you whined, his eyes flicking down to your face. 
“Hate what darling,” he mused. 
“That, being reasonable and knowing what I need before I admit what I need to do.” He laughed and ruffled your hair affectionately. 
“Comes with years of experience,” he sighed and placed his book down next to his leg. “Do bundle up this time will you,” he called as you walked away, you quickly flipped him the bird as you rounded the corner. 
And there you were back at the rink again. Although tonight was a game night and the rink was packed. “20 dollars,” a nasally boy said as he pushed his glasses up, he looked bored out of his mind. 
“Pardon?” You asked, looking at him. 
“It’s 20 dollars to get in the game,” he said in an annoyed tone. 
“Oh, I’m a student,” you showed your ID card, he rolled his eyes, “5 dollars.” You nodded and placed the five down. Only partners of the team got in free. Perk of fucking one of the team members you guessed, that must have outweighed the fear of them cheating or getting bored. You knew that wasn’t fair. At least two of the guys were in committed relationships and one was in an on again off again relationship. The rest though you weren’t sure, you shock your head at the thought. 
You caught the flaming red hair of Nat in her reserved seat next to the bench, Peggy was next to her. There were a few open seats at the top of the rink, not great from getting a good view of what you needed to draw. But it would have to do. Instantly your eyes were drawn to Barnes, number 17, flying up the ice leaving the opposing team in the dust, snow? With a quick flick of his wrist the puck was shot sideways and Barton scored. The crowd stood and cheered loudly. You wished you had ear plugs now. The buzzer was insanely loud and made your ears ring. How Nat enjoyed this you’d never understand. Barton. You thought, Nat wasn’t big on sports, but she was big on her sweet boyfriend. 
You focused on Barnes as he showboated around the rink, celebrating his assist. He moved so fluidly, you were mesmerized. You drew many little pieces focusing on the movement trying to capture the effortlessness of him skating. You were startled from your drawing when the buzzer screeched again the crowd roared in applause. The team scored again and it seemed to be Barnes that scored this time. Hats flew onto the ice as he skated around. That was odd, you squinted at the action. His eyes caught yours for a split second as he rushed past and it felt like eternity. 
Read Chapter 2 here
Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more <3
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ruined-station · 10 days
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PROLOGUE | MOON 0
My paws burn. I've trained, though. StarClan! I've ran for seasons upon the trains, along the thunder rail. I've followed my mother, my father, my clan's pawprints.
Today was different. The train was picking up, and my friend Chestnutecho sitting at the back of the train, face strained. He called for me with a shout. "Songsky! Cmon, please get on the train."
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"That- that's-" My voice couldn't be heard, with Chesnutecho's voice was but a whisper on the wind, but I ran. My paw up on the train's end. So close. I lept onto the train. It begun to pick up. I wheezed, tired from the running on the metal track. My voice met Chesnutecho's ears better here. "That- that's everyone right? Every cat?"
"Yes that must be-" Chesnutecho froze, like a deer in the middle of a thunderpath, staring into the eyes of a monster. He sounded choked up, voice filled with emotion. "Oh.. StarClan!"
I turned, a small bit wobbly with the train's increasing speed. And I saw. Sunrisekit was running towards the train. It was a terrible mistake that the clan forgot to grab the kitten. Sunrisekit was barely a new member of the clan, at the last stop of a train, they met a tomcat called Frankie.
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Frankie was a kittypet who had no long for a life outside his home. However, he had a kitten. His little sun, he would call him, could be taken away by his housefolk once he was old enough. So the clan took his kit with grace.
I lept without a second moment, grabbing the kitten by the scruff. I was filled with adrenaline as I chased the train. Chesnutecho was frozen, watching me. The tom was yowling out, anguished, but I was to far to hear it. I just got farther and farther away.
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I got off the track, running along a broken wooden path to keep up. Before I couldn't. My paws burned, the kitten weighed down me down, tears blurred my vision, and the train was far too fast. The train's screeching against the thunder rail got quieter. And Songsky stopped. She put the shocked kitten down. "...I can't."
"I can't... catch... up." Tears stung in my eyes, Sunrisekit looking up at me with bewilderment. My breath was caught in my throat, and I stood in defeat. The kitten, just two-no- three moons old, lay his head against my leg.
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NEXT MOON HERE
finally trying this again! a clangen blog. i really wanted to take pressure off myself while making a new blog, as im always super extreme with my pressure of drawing. its why all the panels are different, im not putting as much pressure on my self. i may even do experimentation with different styles anyway, meet songsky and sunrisekit. part of a train riding clan that rode along the lands, never quite settling down. but now, songsky and sunrisekit are left with no other option, and rumors from other felines in the woods.. heavily inspired by @silkclan, @fringeclan-rebirth n @juniper-clan (massive apologies if tags are bothersome i will remove them if you want or do @/tag!! so sorry if they do bother)
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helion-ism · 2 months
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so, after two years I have finally written something again. it's actually one of my new year's resolutions to start writing again, just a little at least, to get into it again. I will probably also edit some of the things I wrote in the past and re-post them again because I had a phase where I deleted almost all of them (just girly things 🤪)
anyways, this is what I came up with. hope you enjoy!
thanks, @lucienarcheron for reading and offering advice 🫶
rating: mature
word count: 3,207
or: read it on ao3
archer and prey
She could feel his wicked grin on her skin as she whimpered in response, leaning back against his hard body, leaning back against his hard body, his kisses lazy – without haste. Her head fell on his shoulder as his clever hands moved to her waist. He held her firmly and with care. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. 
All she felt and needed to feel was this pure heat he was offering her, this fire he was responsible for that was burning low in her body and threatening to consume her. And Elain could not stop herself from shivering, repeating with a hushed voice, “Please, please.” He chuckled at her impatience.
But he rewarded her the next moment when his tongue was on her neck, drawing circles. And his lips – his perfect lips – moved against her sensitive skin, though never increasing the pace. She liked this torture more than she would ever admit. Liked how he seemed to relish in taking his time with her, too. 
His hands were on her thighs, his fingers burrowed in her skirts, hoisting them up little by little. He wasn’t close enough to where she wanted him, and Elain propped herself against him with a force that surprised and delighted him. He laughed and her stomach clenched at the sound. 
More, more, more. 
She might have said the words aloud. 
Lucien’s hand moved to her neck. It might be his favourite part of hers, she thought, with the way he always kept returning to it. He caressed her collarbone, lay his fingers around her neck, and squeezed lightly. Elain gasped as she felt his hard length at her back, his fingertips gently turning her head to face him. She looked at him and the rugged scar that graced his face. 
Wicked, wanton, wild. 
“Please,” she whispered again and lifted her head to meet his lips. She wanted to make him lose his composure, make him forget his purpose for a second. She kissed him like she had never kissed him before, pressing against him, her hands up in his long hair, tugging and pulling. He groaned and Elain felt the sound in her core – but it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him everywhere forever. 
Lucien’s hand went to the back of her head, tilting it to have better access to her, his tongue now occupied with her own. He was in charge and taking over, deliberately slowing his movements yet again. She snarled, and he laughed again, this time louder. Her head was spinning. 
Lucien’s other hand moved to her hips, turning and hoisting her up onto him. Elain’s head fell back at the pressure of him against her core and started to move slowly, leisurely against him. She felt so good, breathing his name in painful need. He was wearing too many clothes – she needed them off. 
“You’re mine,” he purred, his lips on her collarbone, sucking until she felt a pain so good, so sharp –
Elain gasped as she bolted up from her bed. Breathing hard and fast, she placed a hand on her chest, willing herself to calm down. She let it happen again. This dream, this fantasy she could never shake off, no matter how much she told herself she hated him in the daylight. It was only in dreams she said his name these days, allowing it to roll off her tongue only then when no one else could hear. 
She felt like a traitor. To Feyre, to Nesta, to herself. 
To him. 
She tried so hard to not think of him, even when he was in town. Even more so when he was out somewhere on the Continent with that human queen. Did not allow her thoughts to ever wander and wonder. Yet, at night, when the stars sparkled in the sky and the winds moved the sheer fabric of her curtains into her bedroom, her traitorous thoughts returned to him. 
She knew it wasn’t fair to anyone. Not to either of them but especially herself. She had promised herself a thousand times to not let it bother her, this feeling that seemed to grow day by day. She thought perhaps that was why this body, this altered mind, now urged her to go to him, to touch him, even if only in her dreams. But she understood that loneliness was a burden she could not get rid of at night even if she could pretend it disappeared under the bright sun of Velaris. She blamed him for it.
Elain shivered as she pushed aside the covers of her bed and walked to the open window. Her feet were cold on the wooden floor, but she didn’t mind. It cleared her head. Velaris looked beautiful at night and she wished it could give her the strength Feyre drew from it. She wished it could be enough that she wanted to fit in. Wished she could feel like Nesta did after suffering for so long. But wishes were not enough and with each day passing, the feeling of isolation and desperation grew inside her and made her restless. Made her feel more alone. 
Elain sighed and leaned her head against the opened window frame. She closed her eyes. 
It could be so quiet here, at night. And only because the city was asleep and she couldn't be caught did Elain let herself think about her dream once more. She had stopped counting how often she awoke in the darkness, wishing to be close to him. Most of the time, the dreams were like this: slow and passionate, feeling too real. Like he was right here, behind her, worshipping her. She could almost smell him, taste him on her lips. She opened her eyes to stop the pain threatening to squeeze her heart until only tears could help her get rid of it. 
Sometimes Elain woke because he touched her pointed ears and that was not something she could even accustom herself to in her dreams. Sometimes it was because she peaked, twisting in her sheets and waking up satisfied and yet yearning for more. She wondered how that was possible when she could not remember how his touch felt on her skin. Other times, it did not get that far. It was words that drew her from her subconscious. 
Lucien wasn’t in Velaris. But she knew he was on his way back to the Night Court, to report on whatever it was exactly that he was doing out there for Feyre and Rhysand. She prohibited herself from caring every time someone uttered his name in her presence and hated her body for not complying. Elain wondered if on the mornings that followed nights like these, when she couldn’t go back to sleep and waited for the sunrise – she wondered if Feyre noticed. If that was why her sister studied Elain with a wariness that followed her through the rest of the day. But her sister never said a word.
Feyre likely suspected Elain would shut down the conversation, never admitting to anything. And how could her sister, with her perfect baby, and perfect mate, who she had accept with love in her heart, ever understand? How could anyone? Nesta once could, but Nesta loved Cassian. Nesta had friends and a purpose. She had a home. 
Elain had that once, too. With Graysen. She almost did, anyway. 
She sighed, sliding to the floor and letting her chin rest on her knees. It would be a long night as she longed for the day.
---------------------------------------------------------
He was here, she realized. 
In the townhouse.
It was barely dawn. 
His heart beat loudly in his chest and his scent – like a summer morning brightening the day – filled up the air. Elain couldn’t breathe as all of her senses focused on him – an instinct she wasn’t sure how to work against. She hadn’t actively decided to leave her room, yet here she was. He noticed her a few seconds later, looking up the staircase with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth. 
He was so beautiful, she thought. It was unfair. 
“My lady,” he said. 
Those were his first words after months of utter silence. She wondered if his being here meant he had freed the firebird and was back in Prythian for good. “I didn’t realize you were here.” 
Elain furrowed her brow. “I live here now,” she replied and hated how quiet and unsure she sounded.
“I assumed you would be with Feyre and Rhys –”
“I thought it would be best to give them privacy. As a young family.” 
Her heartbeat matched his. Could he still not hear it? 
He was silent. She thought it was the most they had spoken in ages. His eyes scanned her from top to bottom as she gripped the ornate railing. As she squeezed it like she might bend it underneath her frail hands. 
“You look well,” he said then, a hint of a polite smile on his lips. She swallowed and Elain did not think it could be more awkward. “I’m sorry for disturbing you in your home. I figured I would recommend the townhouse to meet with Feyre not to … barge in on you, and she didn’t mention anything about you being here. I am here for business.”
“Business,” she said slowly, frowning. Of course, Feyre hadn’t said anything to him.
But before she could say anything else, the door opened and Feyre rushed in. Elain stiffened while Lucien seemed to relax. 
She suspected he hated being here. She didn’t let herself think of what else he might have hated.
Feyre lit up as she hugged him. “Lucien, I didn’t realize you were here this early!” She glanced up at Elain and cringed slightly. Elain said nothing. Feyre likely had planned on warning her. 
“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied softly.
And Elain didn’t hear what Feyre said next as everything grew louder in her head. Like water rushing right above her and into those sensitive ears. The duo moved to the parlour and Elain found herself following them slowly. 
The door wasn’t closed, so she supposed she was welcome, especially when Lucien didn’t tear his eyes away from her as she entered the room and found herself by the window. The sun was hidden behind dark clouds. 
The weather seemed to match the mood of her mate. 
He seemed to have anticipated the arrival of Rhys and his brother and still, his mood worsened. He may have moved slightly closer to her. 
“Am I interrupting?” Eris said, grinning widely at Elain, who, in turn, frowned at him. She didn’t know what to think of the redhead. Something about him unsettled her. He looked so different from Lucien. His nose was sharper, his skin paler, and his eyes seemed to take in everyone in the room at the same time – as if he was used to paying attention to every single person in his vicinity. Like he didn’t trust anyone here. Elain could hardly fault him for that. 
“Be quick about it, Eris,” Lucien hissed and Elain watched Rhys step behind Feyre, kissing her on her cheek. Her stomach tightened painfully. 
“Oh, brother, how have I missed you, too,” Eris snickered. He took a seat in the armchair closest to the fireplace. “Does your firebird miss you already?”
Elain froze at his question, well aware that everyone’s eyes were on her. The room was shrinking and every little noise, the fly on the windowsill, the birds chirping outside, Eris’s breathing, was getting louder and louder and louder. She wanted to cry and she didn’t know why. 
She still remembered how difficult moments like this had been in those first few months. After she had surfaced, scared and shaking, and Lucien had made his way to her. When she had arrived at the Night Court, Feyre gone, Nesta blazing, and everything had been too much, too loud, pungent. It had been Lucien, surprisingly, who understood and offered the advice she desperately needed. She had clung to the windows of the house, praying for peace and quiet, praying for her old life to come back to her. 
“Close your eyes when it gets too overwhelming in this new body,” he had said. She had blinked in response and looked at him. His brutally beautiful face had looked like he understood. She hadn’t seen how. “Make sure to breathe in deeply, and I mean, deeply. Down to your navel. Then hold it, and breathe out slowly. Close your eyes and block out the noise by focusing on one thing. Be it a bird chirping or footsteps outside.”
She hadn’t replied, and Lucien had stood, bowing, to leave again. This, Elain, had to admit, had helped more than the healer’s poking and touching. She didn’t have to tell him that it was the sound of his heartbeat, or the memory thereof, that she often used to calm herself down. Even now, with so much time having passed. She didn’t know why these Fae senses were taking so long for her to get used to. 
Now, her ears focused on the steady, yet agitated beat of his heart. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. 
The noises disappeared as she continued to breathe deeply. She looked at Eris, surprised to see his eyes observing her, not his brother.
“The firebird,” Lucien spat, “is still a firebird and unless you have helpful information for breaking her curse, I suggest you tell us what you came here for, brother.” 
Rhys chuckled and sat with Feyre on the couch, obviously trying to calm the flared tempers. He looked suspiciously at ease, but maybe that belonged to the artful skillset of a High Lord. 
Her sister rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to discuss Vassa, Eris.”
Lucien ran his fingers through his hair, clenching his jaw and Elain couldn’t help but look back at Lucien, but he was staring at Eris.
“I am here to discuss my father’s death.” 
Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Then – 
“You mean you are here to discuss treason,” Feyre said quietly as Lucien remained silent. 
But Elain could hear him clear and loud. He did not want to be in this room. She saw flashes of blood on a dark floor, she saw a red forest and a head on the ground. A thin, red-haired woman crying in a beautifully decorated parlor. 
“Treason,” Eris grunted. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“We told you, we cannot get involved,” Rhys said slowly. But he leaned forward like he had had the thought, too. Lucien noticed and clenched his fists. 
Elain’s heart ached, and she hated herself for following him into this room. Hated herself for getting herself into this mess and to witness him like this – agitated and internally pacing. Did he want to return to his home? Did he miss the sight of those colourful trees? 
“Mother would like to see you again,” Eris simply said. 
“He will kill me on sight,” Lucien’s voice was quiet and emotionless. Somehow Elain knew what her mate’s brother would say next. Feyre did, too, as she straightened her back and looked at Eris with narrow eyes. 
“Not if you bring your mate – both of you protected by the Night Court and her being Feyre Cursebreaker’s sister, he would not dare.” 
Silence.
“You have lost your mind,” Feyre said at the same time as Lucien snarled, “Over my dead body.” 
Eris wanted her to be a distraction. To be a piece in his chess game as he played his way to the position of a High Lord. Rhys was silent, but Elain’s irritation with Eris grew. He knew, she realized, when to press which buttons. Her brother-in-law understood too, what Elain had learned in this moment. 
Feyre was watching her with worried eyes and Elain felt a darkness brush against her mind, but she recoiled from it. She barely could form any coherent thought and did not want to have Feyre invade the chaos inside of her.
“Elain.” Lucien’s voice was gentle and she looked at him, his golden eye whirring frantically. He looked ill while Eris seemed to be enjoying his moment. Elain clenched her fist and faced Eris.
“You cannot decide to use me and expect me to oblige. You cannot drag Lucien into this simply because it is convenient for you. This is your mess.” She was oddly proud of herself for saying those words without shaking. The anger, a burning flame ignited in her heart, made sure of that. Rhys smiled. As did Eris.
“Maybe it is. But surely you and Lucien have a desire to see him gone. After all, you are a princess of the Autumn Court now.” 
Lucien’s eyes turned cold, perhaps for the first time in his life. “Elain is a free female. The Autumn Court is nothing to her. As it is to me. We are not going to help you commit treason. I will not risk her life like that.” His words were clipped. Elain didn’t understand why Rhys and Feyre stayed silent. 
“What of mother?”
Lucien narrowed his eyes. “What of mother?”
“You know I will do it either way. With or without the Night Court’s help. I understand their … reluctance to assist me. Despite my continued assistance over these last months.” Feyre rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, Eris continued, “I will do it and should I fail, what do you think becomes of our mother?” He looked at Lucien and Elain swore she saw a flicker of vulnerability show on his face. Perhaps another form of manipulation. Her heart ached nonetheless.
“He will punish her,” Eris added and looked at Elain. “If they won’t help me save my mother, you certainly could, Elain. I will forever be in your debt.” 
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Lucien turned livid and tried very hard to restrain himself and not tackle Eris off the armchair. His brother was holding on to the armrest as if he was aware of that. Elain didn’t hear what Feyre and Rhys were saying, but their anger was palpable. 
Elain knew, she knew, that Eris was a mastermind, but she believed him. She believed that he wanted nothing more than to see his mother in safety. Elain didn’t know their father, but given Lucien’s hatred for the Autumn Court, she could only guess what evil he was responsible for. She again saw puddles of blood on the floor. Did blood stain marble? 
It irritated her that Eris used her to force Lucien to play by his rules. He clearly did not want to step a foot inside his home again, but everyone in this townhouse knew that if Elain went, Lucien would follow. Perhaps that was why she said, faintly but clearly enough for everyone to hear, “Fine.” 
“I will go but not for you,” she said looking at Eris with a frown, then back at Lucien. His face had paled. Elain didn’t really know where it came from, she had certainly not expected the day to go like this. Seeing Lucien, seeing his brother, and saying things she never would have expected herself to even think. “I will go for your mother. No one should be left at risk.” 
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lilyrizzy · 5 months
Note
trick or treat!! please something angsty as possible
okay this is super angsty! Cw: major character death
"I used to believe that grief was a lot of sitting around and crying,” Max says, looking straight ahead rather than at Grace as he speaks, at, Daniel Joseph Ricciardo, engraved in gold lettering. “On the TV, and a few times when I saw my mum crying about my Grandpa, of course, it was always- It seemed soft, sort off.”
His thumb slots perfectly into the groove of the ‘D’, as he traces the straight line of it, then the curve. Besides him, Grace doesn't say anything, so he continues.
“I know now, of course, that it is not like that at all. Instead, it is like every day I am one step closer to exploding, until I am just a mess. Just- Chunks of Max.”
That gets Grace laughing, abrupt, like he’s startled her. Max laughs too. He supposes it is a funny image, being made into cat food by your own emotions, your inability to deal with them gracefully.
“Did my son teach not teach you anything about grief?” she says, her voice somehow bright and heavy at the same time. For a moment, Max thinks she means- But then- “All those elbows and fists shoved through doors and walls.”
She is talking about racing.
Max shakes his head.
“Losing races, that is not grief,” he says, stubbornly, because he might have thought that at eighteen but he knows better now. His fingertip has reached the first ‘e’ now. He’s taking his time.
“Grief is all about losing,” Grace tries, but Max can’t listen to her compare them, like they are the same. Like Max hasn’t had all his bargaining and begging fall on deaf ears. One more day. Every race win for one more day. One thousand losses for one more day.
“Losing a race is a disappointment,” he insists. Underneath his touch, the headstone is smooth the way Daniel's thighs would be right after he would wax, but cold the way he never was. Max drops his hand. “It is knowing that you did not try hard enough, that- That you have next weekend, next season to try again. To be better.”
There are no more ‘nexts’ for Max. Not ones that matter, not when the future he dreamed up, that used to feel so easy to reach for, is beneath his feet, buried where he stands.
“You can-“ Grace begins eventually, breaking the quiet- “Sweetheart, it’s been a year.”
Grace is silent for a moment, and Max can hear the birds, the noises they make as they fly and land and talk to each other. He touches Daniel- the headstone- again, to steady himself as he tilts his head back to look into the treeline. He can’t be sure, but he thinks the noisy one is a type that Daniel had showed him, the only time they were here together in Perth and he was still alive. A honeyeater.
Her hand reaches for his then and it startles him a little, her soft motherly hands touching him. Skin papery thin, one year older than the last time she touched him, the same way, in this very same spot. It’d surprised him just as much then; she’d never been Max’s biggest fan.
When he trusts himself to look at her face, she’s smiling as though she thinks he needs to hear this.
“Daniel would want you to be happy.”
Max screws his eyes shut, shakes his head so viciously as though to shake away the words he wants to say, to throw into her face, like a drawing on Luka’s etch-e-sketch.
What would you know about that? You did not see the way he loved me, the way we fought, the way we fucked. What would you know about what Daniel would want for me.
“I can’t,” he gets out, because it’s half the truth anyway. Even though the words choke him. “I can’t.”
When he opens his eyes again, he expects to be met with more insistence, more of her steadfast belief that as always, mother knows best.
“You know, when you told me you wanted to keep him-“ her other hand trails over the edge of the gravestone, gently, as though touching somebody she doesn’t want to wake up from sleeping- “I was so angry at you Max.”
Instead, she nods, but doesn't let go of his hand. Then-
Her eyes look sideways towards him, as though daring him a little to question her, to protest, but he stays silent. She laughs, nervously before continuing.
“You don’t- for this you do not need to be sorry,” Max tells her honestly, because it’s almost crueller now, to have her apology said too late, to the wrong person. Daniel died thinking his mother was scared of the sight of him, and now she is apologising for wanting to see him too much.
“I thought that you had him for all these years, the least you could do was let him come home to us. That was- I was cruel. It was wrong. I robbed you of a place, somewhere to go to be with him. I’m sorry.”
Max almost wants to laugh.
Besides, it didn't matter. Max never needed a grave. He’d asked because it had been what Daniel wanted, the only thing he’d asked for in the last days he was verbal. Delirious, but verbal.
Max didn’t need ashes or bones. Not when he’d had Daniel’s hair in their shower drain. His Vans lining their hallway, his oat milk in the fridge, curdled, until Victoria had visited and made him throw it out. When he still has him now, the echo of his laughter every time Max watches a funny film, sat on the sofa they picked out together. His footsteps beside Max on every cobbled street he walks down.
I want to be in the Monaco sunshine, Maxy. With you.
His voice, even if only from videos he rewatches or inside Max’s head.
“I didn’t need somewhere to go,” he tells her, squeezing her hand. “At home, he is everywhere. He is with me all the time.”
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queentheweeb · 1 year
Text
Tsu'tey X Female Na'vi Reader
You always found it funny how Tsu'tey said he knew the two of you were meant to be together when your birth was announced. You are the baby sister of Sylwanin and Neytiri and he was five when you were born he never told anyone then but, he had felt a pull towards you. A need to protect you and always have you near him in anyway shape or form. He didn't understand it until he was much older but, by then it was too late. He was betrothed to Neytiri after Sylwanin was killed in a sky people attack at Grace school. He would never admit it because he felt some sort of shame but, he was more worried about you than Sylwanin. He knew he should have cared more about his betrothed but, he couldn't. It wasn't her that he loved, he loves you but, Eywa wants him to be with Neytiri and he can't help but, be bitter about that. Fortunately for him, you were unaware of his feelings for you and he will be damned if you found out. You would stop touching him, stop hugging, stop being with him, stop talking. Everything he is supposed to enjoy with Neytiri he is enjoying and wants to be with you.
"Tsu'tey~" You had noticed Tsu'tey from a while back and were going to sneak up on him but, when you saw his ears flick forward and backward you knew he had heard you so therefore you announced your presence to him. "Oh, now you're going to pretend to not have heard me. That's the game we are going to play." You put your bow and arrow down and with your tail moving back and forth getting ready to pounce that's when Tsu'tey turned around with a playful grin to meet your eyes. You froze at having gotten caught mid-jump since you were still crouched but, you couldn't help but, staring at him. He was a beautiful man, his face and body lit up like the stars and glowed like the tendrils in the tree of voices. You got jealous every time you thought about how he wasn't going to be yours. You didn't understand it though. He had said you were always meant to be with him so, why isn't he fighting Mo'at and Olo'eyktan more?
"I know I'm pretty to look at but, that position cannot be comfortable." You blinked out of your musings to see he was smirking at you with mischievous amusement. You loved this side of him, the side that only he would show to you and you're going to cherish every moment of it. You rolled your eyes got out of your crouch and walked to him to sit down next to him but, apparently it was too far for him. "Come closer, I can feel a breeze in between us." Both of you knew there was no breeze to be found but, you allowed yourself to be manhandled to sit in between his legs. You laid your back against his chest as he wrapped his arms loosely around your waist and used his fingertips to draw idle patterns on your hips and sides like he always did. He rested his head on top of yours as the two of you sat in silence for a while until you asked him a question. 
"Ma Tsu'tey." You felt him tense, squeezing you tighter to him and you craved it more, you craved his touch more and more each day. You started calling him ma Tsu'tey just to see how he would react since he would call you Ma Y/N  and it was absolutely enthralling seeing his pupils dilate and feeling him squeeze you, practically begging you to call him yours again. You would take great pleasure in it, and every time the two of you are alone you can just imagine that it's just the two of you in the forest as one. You wanted to be his one true mate, he was already your soulmate and it pained you knowing one day you were going to have to give this up. The day that happens you planned on leaving because it would be too much pain to watch the one you want be with your sister, she can touch him, love him and be there in a way that you dream of being. 
"Call me yours again Ma, Y/N." He was squeezing you tight to him wanting you to be a part of him. He was praying to Eywa that Neytiri and Jake would mate. He would give up being Olo'eyktan if it means he can be with you. He was desperate, deprived of you. It was you he wanted to fly with, eat with, lay with, laugh, cry, start a family with, and die with. He wanted all of that and so much more but, it seemed like a dream. At least here he can pretend it's a reality.
"Ma Tsu'tey, ma Tsu'tey, Ma Tsu'tey." You would say it as much as he wants you to because deep in your heart he was yours, and he will always be yours even when he has to be with Neytiri he will be yours. You will always love him. You tilted your head feeling his lips press along your shoulder, up your neck, to the tip of your ear, and back down to your cheeks and the corner of your mouth. That was a new one, he would do everything else usually but, he has never gotten that close to your mouth. You wanted him to do it again. 
"Ma Y/N." You looked up at him delighted to see he was panting lightly and his eyes were blown out because of you. You got the pleasure of seeing him like this, you wanted to be selfish and have him. Neytiri can have Jake, they seem to be getting along much better, and they can handle not having Tsu'tey. You deserved to have Tsu'tey, you're the one who's been with him through thick and thin. You were there when he cried when he was angry when he was happy when he was sad when he passed his Ikinimaya when his baby brother was born. You were there for everything so the one who deserves to have him
"Is me." You finished your thoughts out loud as you brought his face down to yours and pressed your lips to his for a kiss. It was as if something in him snapped because one hand tightened around your waist and the other went to your neck to hold you there while he ravaged your mouth with his. He forced his tongue into your mouth mapping out every crevice and swallowing your moan with a grunt of his own. This is what you needed, this is who grounds you, and this is your life. 
"Oel ngati kameie Y/N, Ma Y/N." He pressed his lips against yours reverently seeming to not get enough of you. He got tired of the position and turned you around so that you were straddling his lap and his hands remained where they were. This was much better and he can watch your face blissed out from his hands, his mouth. He continued to kiss you and caress his hands from the top of your head to your legs as much as he can reach in his position. 
"Oel ngati kameie Ma Tsu'tey." His response was to play with your tswin as he continued to kiss you with you responding in earnest. Eywa would forgive you, Neytiri would forgive you. Tsu'tey is yours and always will be.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We all know that Neytiri did in fact end up with Jake. Thank you guys for reading!
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star-girl69 · 1 year
Text
Keep Me Ablaze
Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader
—-
a/n: i hope you all enjoy!!
warnings: like maybe some slight bullying? tell me if i missed anything!!
Chapter Two- Savior
—-
“First day of school! How are you feeling?”
You sigh at Grace’s words, already tired from waking up so early.
“Wanna sleep,” you murmur, and she frowns, eyes bright and picks you up. When she’s in her Avatar, like this, you’re practically a feather to her.
“Well, it’s not like school you normally do. You’re just gonna play, help some kids your age learn English. No math, I promise.” When you don’t perk up, she sighs, digs her fingers into your side. “There. There’s that smile, yeah?”
—-
“Grace,” you say, tugging on her shorts, and she simply smiles and places her hand on your head.
“It’ll be fine, baby, relax,” she soothes, but you’re young and scared of newness, so you tug on her anyways. Her hand is comforting, her scent, but you still want to be high up in her arms. No one can reach you when you’re up there.
“Grace! Grace!” the children chant as she walks in, and even through she said that they’re your age, they still tower above you. You feel small, like you’re nothing. Like whatever fire inside of you Aunt Grace says you have is nothing more than an ember.
She told you you’re a wildfire. And maybe you are, but you don’t feel like it.
She greets them in Na’vi, a langage which you know very little of, but enough to make it out. “Hi, hi, how are you?” she laughs as the children reach out to grab her, touch her hair, her clothes, anything.
She hasn’t seen them in weeks- something about tensions, you had heard, before she spotted you trying to hide behind the wall and ushering you out.
Tensions, but what? Grace says you’re too young. But you still want to know. She blames herself for your curiousness, says you got it from her.
Augustine’s are a blessing and a curse, she would say.
Eventually, the children calm down from the excitement, and Grace turns to you.
“Come on out,” she taunts, drawing you out from behind her. “This is my niece, Y/N. Now, she’s the same age as you, but you have to remember to be very careful when you play with her, hm?”
All of the children look at you, some accusatorially, some the same way they looked at Grace. They’re not scared of newness. They’re not like you.
You smile, even though you don’t mean it, until Grace is pulled away to talk to another adult and all of the children go back to playing. The school is simple, one room in a small building, carpet and posters on the wall. Bookshelves on the far side- where one of the lights is dim, casting a shadow, and you find yourself gravitating towards it.
All of the Na’vi children are too engrossed in their own games to notice you, a tiny little human, so you sit and lean against the bookshelf anyways. You sigh, until you look up.
A girl sits just near you, eyes wide like yours, behind the large chair.
You gasp, and hope she doesn’t feel offended, but she seems as surprised as you.
“Sorry,” you say, calming your racing heart. “I can- I can go.”
You see her chest rise and fall, fast, but her face doesn’t betray anything.
“No, it’s fine,” she whispers.
“I’m- I’m Y/N. Grace is my aunt.”
She stifles a laugh. “Your Na’vi bad,” she says in English, and you smile and laugh yourself. She frowns, thinks over her words. “Is bad. Your Na’vi is bad.”
You nod, and she smiles to herself, seemingly proud.
“I- I am Neytiri.”
“Hi, Neytiri,” you say, in Na’vi, and she laughs at your pronunciation.
—-
“You’re a human.”
You look up from your coloring book, red pencil dropping to the table, eyes meeting with the Na’vi boy in front of you.
“Yes?” you say, although it sounds more like a question.
“My father says the humans are skawngs.”
“Okay?” you mumble, tucking your chin to your chest, wishing someone would save you. A door to open. A star to fall.
You knew that some of the kids would taunt you- but had you truly done anything other than be born into the wrong body?
When Neytiri sits next to you, it’s not a surprise. The two of you gravitate towards each other, have similar flames. You burn the same way.
What is surprising is the force which she slams the box of crayons down with.
You look up, eyes wide, only to find her staring down the boy in front of her, one hand on the box and the other digging into the table.
“Go away,” she hisses, a break of pure rage in between her words.
The boy scoffs, and she tilts her head. Taunting him, challenging him. He falters, but covers it up with a mumble about how it wasn’t that big of a deal and walking away with his friends trailing behind.
She pulls out the chair next to you, a noticeable difference from where she was sitting across from you before, you you choose not to mention it. Her eyes are still stuck on the group of boys in the corner, daring them.
“Thank you, Neytiri,” you say, because Grace was always adamant that you had good manners. She has good manners too, she just didn’t use them all the time.
“It is nothing,” she says, picking up a green crayon.
“You saved me,” you joke. She stops, and you can’t even look down to see what she’s drawing because her eyes are staring so deeply into yours.
“It is nothing,” she repeats, almost as if she would do more for you.
—-
“Come on, Y/N,” Neytiri pleads, tugging you along.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” you hiss, and she shoots you a look over her shoulder.
“Lying.”
“‘M not!”
She smiles and rolls her eyes playfully, and you scoff.
She leads you deeper and further into the forest, and if you were with anyone else, or by yourself, you would be scared. But it’s Neytiri. She would never hurt you.
“Where are you even taking me again?” you grumble, and Neytiri looks over her shoulder again.
“You will like it!” she exclaims. “Promise.”
Even so far away from Hometree, from Grace, you know nothing will happen to you with Neytiri here. She has always saved you, whether it be from a falling book or from a mean Na’vi boy at the school.
You don’t know why. She says you have a strong heart, that your fire burns bright.
That’s all anyone has told you all your life. That whatever fire is inside of you, inside of everyone, it bruns bright. It burns like a wildfire.
But you don’t feel that way.
Neytiri points to a tree just off the path. “You see that? I know that tree. It means we’re close.”
“To what?”
“You will see!”
The foliage is thick and overwhelming, hanging over you and crushing you in. Neytiri’s hand slips from your wrists, fingers melding with you own. She tugs you up the path, closer, next to her, a bright smile on her face.
Finally, the plants seem to start to thin, lean another way, until Neytiri guides you around a large grey rock and you see it.
“It’s beautiful!” you gasp, walking forward to lean in front of the water, dip your fingers in, ruin the stillness.
“Look,” Neytiri guides, and you follow her hand to the patch of flowers growing, hanging over the edge. They look over it like something sad, something vain, always needing to see the reflection. “They only grow by ponds, like this-” she continues.
“Aunt Grace doesn’t have this one in her book.”
You lean forward, thumb the velvet soft petal.
“Her book?”
“She has a book, all about the different plants on Pandora. I’ve read it front to back- this one isn’t in it.”
“Oh, I see.” Neytiri mumbles, crouching down next to you. She touches the flower too, fingertips pulling down on edge of it. It’s a blue flower, fading right into the blue of Neytiri. But it’s decorated with little white spots, like the stars on her face.
“It looks like you.”
You look toward her, only to see her staring at the flower accusingly. “Like me?”
You bite back your laugh. “Yeah, you see?” You grab her hand, unfurl her palm and place it under the edge of the petal. She blends right into it.
“Oh,” she smiles, “you’re right. And- the little white dots, just like my stars?”
“Yeah!” you smile, turning back to the water after seeing something move out of the corner of your eye.
She tells you what kind of fish live in this pond, but her eyes keeps going back to the flower.
It’s silent, for a minute, just the two of you in the midst of everything.
“Y/N,” Neytiri asks, and when you turn she is sitting behind you, neck craned to look at the flower.
“Yes?” you say, and she turns to you.
“You never said. Do you- do you think that i- it’s pretty? The flower?”
“It’s beautiful,” you say with a smile, and she waits for a moment before smiling back.
—-
“Y/N?”
“Hi, Neytiri,” you smile, looking up from whatever you were doing- now long forgotten.
“How are you?” you smile at her question, because she only says that when she’s nervous.
You tilt your head to the side, and she sighs.
“Okay. I- I have something for you?”
Your heart skips a beat and you feel like you’re being consumed by the fire that roars inside you.
“A gift?”
“Your- your book,” she starts, sitting down next to you on the floor, your knees touching, her hand behind her back. “The one about the plants? The flowers? This one…” she moves her hand out from behind her back, “is from high on the mountains. Where the humans aren’t allowed. I thought-”
She trails off, looking at you oddly, but your eyes are fixed on the soft pink flower in front of you. It looks like something from earth- a tulip, maybe, not like something from Pandora. Isn’t that amazing? That some things like that can surpass the universe? Simple, soft beauty like that.
“Y-Y/N?”
“Ah!” you shout, finally coming to your senses, leaning forward to wrap your arms around her shoulders.
She’s still for a second, silent, until she lets out a small laugh, one arm carefully wrapping around your waist.
When you pull back, on your knees now to even reach her height, she smiles and hands you the flower.
You grin up at her before looking down, entranced by the flower. Your hair falls out from behind your ears, but Neytiri is quick to push it back.
She looks at you like you are the most beautiful fire, swirling and raging like a storm, held back by nothing but your own will.
“My human,” she says, not knowing this will be the last time she’ll see you burn like this for years.
—-
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charrywoman · 7 months
Text
No Amount of Freedom Gets Me Clean.
Part 1
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OKAY. IS THIS GOOD?? IS THIS BAD?? I’m returning to my tumblr author era because I had this idea and just had to execute. I THINK IT WILL BE A SERIES BC I HAVE A PLAN?? WOULD ANYONE WANT THAT OR IS THIS A FLOP? LMK! anyway, enjoy:)
A crimson glow spread across your cheeks as he gently swiped at the smudge of chocolate in the corner of your lips. You giggled when he popped his thumb in his mouth and said something corny about how sweet you tasted. The laugh was fake, forced even, and anyone who knew you knew that. Peter knew that. It went unnoticed by him though as you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, murmuring a thank you.
“You know,” MJ sat down across from Peter and Ned. “I don’t think that angry scowl is going to make Harry’s head spontaneously burst into flames. Unfortunately.”
Peter didn’t bother to look away, shrugging as he said, “Maybe if I stare for just a little bit longer it will.” He was practically squirming in his seat with jealousy. It was torture watching you be so disgustingly but undeniably cute with someone like Harry freaking Osborn, but Peter told himself that he deserved it, so he kept watching.
MJ didn’t even have time to quip back because in the next second Peter was furiously whispering that you were walking toward them and demanding her and Ned act casual. She rolled her eyes. “You’re literally the one being a weirdo.”
“Hi, MJ. Hi, Ned.” You smiled, purposely ignoring Peter while emptying your lunch tray into the trash can beside their table. Three weeks ago Peter insisted that he, MJ, and Ned start sitting at the specific table.
It was weird for everyone to see you and Peter at such odds. The two of you had always been inseparable. Where there was you, there was Peter. It had been that way since you and your mom moved next door to Peter when you were 6-years-old. May called you “her Peter’s saving grace.” You came into Peter’s life just after he moved in with her and Ben, and she says that it was his friendship with you that made him blossom. And then came Ned. And then MJ. The four of you just made sense, but most of all, so did you and Peter.
You laid upside down on Peter’s bed while kicking your legs back and forth in the air, flipping aimlessly through a comic book that was already there.
“Wow. They’re really generous when illustrating your ass. It is definitely not that big in person.” You held out the page next to Peter’s own body and pretended to compare the two. “What are you doing reading comic books about yourself anyw-” Peter snatched the comic book from your hands.
“Heeeyyy,” you playfully whined, “I was just getting to the good part. You were about to share a passionate kiss with the girl whose cat you rescued from a tree. What a hero.”
Peter rolled his eyes, “You’re so annoying.” He sat down on the bed next to you, and you maneuvered your body to mirror his position.
“Yeah,” you agreed, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning over to press a sloppy, dramatic kiss to his cheek. “But you looovvveee me.”
You pulled away from Peter but left your head resting on his shoulder, and he instinctively laid his cheek against your crown.
“Yeah, you’re right. I do.”
Mr. Cobbwell was background noise as you doodled hearts and stars and flowers all over your notebook page. Chemistry used to be your favorite part of the day, it was the only class that you, MJ, Ned, and Peter all had together. Now, you dreaded it.
“Isn’t that right, Ms. Y/L/N?”
You looked up from your notebook paper for the first time since class started. “Uh, I’m sorry. What was the question? I was-”
Cobbwell cut you off with a sigh. “Don’t forget about seeing me after class, okay?”
You nodded and pretended to pay attention for a few minutes to satisfy him before going back to drawing. After Cobbwell called you out it felt like time was going by agonizingly slow. When the bell finally rang, you let go of breath you didn’t know you were holding.
As if it weren’t awkward enough, only you and Peter were left in the classroom when you walked up to Cobbwell’s desk.
“You wanted to see me?” You asked, toying with the strap of your backpack.
“Yes,” He sat back in his chair. “I want to talk about your grades, Y/N. What’s going on? You’ve dropped two letter grades since September, and you’re on the way to dropping another considering you failed the last exam. You went from being my top student to barely qualifying to be in AP Chemistry.”
You lowered your head awkwardly. It was silent between the two of you for a few moments as you thought of something to say.
“So,” Cobbwell continued. “That’s why I’ve assigned you a tutor. If you complete the 6-week assistance course and your improvement is evident on the next exam, then I’ll be willing to give you enough extra credit to keep you from entirely failing the course. But the grade you get at the end of the semester is totally up to you. No more favors. Sound good?”
“Mr. Parker,” Cobbwell waived Peter over to his desk. Both you and Peter stood in shock as you realized what was happening. “Peter is going to be your tutor for the next 6 weeks. The two of you used to be my dynamic chemistry duo. I want to see that again!”
This can’t be happening.
“Mr. Cobbwell, when you said you needed me to tutor one of your students I didn’t realize that,” Peter paused for a moment trying to find the right words. “Um. I didn’t realize you meant Y/N.”
“Is that an issue, Peter? I asked you to help a student who is struggling in Chemistry, and you said yes. Are you not capable of making good on your word? Do I need to find someone else for the job?” Cobbwell was lecturing now, attempting to make Peter feel guilty.
“No. No, it’s fine. I can do this.” Peter said as he turned to look at you. “We can do this.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Great!” Cobbwell clapped his hands together. “Then, get to studying! Y/N has plenty to catch up on.”
The frame of your body was shrinking as you hurried ahead of Peter in the hallway. He was out of breath when he finally caught up to you at your locker.
“You’re failing chemistry?” Peter asked, concerned. You avoided his question and continued shoving books in your lockers
“Hey,” Peter grasped your arm just as it was about to dive back into your backpack. For the first time in four months, you looked back at him. His heart was beating impatiently against his chest like it was waiting for him to pour out every thought and feeling he had since the last time you spoke to him.
Your face softened for a moment and Peter took that as his cue to continue. “Talk to me, Y/N. You’re failing chemistry? That’s not like you. You love chemistry. And you definitely love being better than me at it.”
You pulled your arm away from him. “It’s not a big deal, Peter.” You shut your locker door. “Look, let’s just get this over with and do what we have to do for the next 6 weeks. This doesn’t change anything between us.”
Peter nodded. Deep down he had already known that, but a small part of him hoped that just maybe it was going to change things.
Behind Peter, you noticed Ned and MJ walking toward the two of you with confused faces. “I’ll be at your place at 7 tonight. May still has dinner at 6 sharp, right? So, you’ll be ready by then. Great. See ya.” You didn’t even give Peter time to answer before you turned your back to him to catch up with Harry and his friends.
Peter was still watching you walk away when Ned and MJ reached him.
“Um. What was that about?” Ned asked.
“I think I’m Y/N’s tutor?”
Peter thought if he ignored the clock that time would go by quicker. He has spent the last half hour toying with the food on his plate, not daring to take a bite. He was nervous, but he wasn’t sure why. It was just Y/N, Peter had told himself. That’s just it, though. It was you. Peter felt like he had been given a second chance to fix things with you, and he wouldn’t mess it up this time. He was desperate.
Peter groaned when he looked at the clock again and only 3 minutes had passed.
“Okay,” May sat her own fork down to her plate. “What’s up?”
Peter hadn’t told her yet. He didn’t know how. “Hey, I know it’s been four months since Y/N last came over and then disappeared with little to no explanation at all for either of us, but she’s going to be here in 15 minutes!” May would just make a big deal of it and he didn’t need that right now.
As if on cue, two knocks came from the door. May looked at Peter quizzically, as if to say “Who could that be?” But Peter knew.
May opened the door. “Y/N?” She engulfed you in a tight hug. “Y/N! Peter it’s Y/N! Y/N is here. What are you doing here? We’ve missed you so much haven’t we, Peter? You know what, I’m going to go whip up a batch of those cupcakes you and Peter have always loved. The ones that are made with cookie dough instead of cake batter? I can’t believe this! Come in, come in!” May didn’t really give you much of a choice though since she was already pulling you inside.
“Actually, May, um..Peter and I have some studying to do tonight.”
“Oh. Oh, that’s fine, honey. It’s too late for sweets anyway. I’m always getting ahead of myself.” The disappointment in her voice made you feel guilty. You avoided her gaze, shifting back and forth on your feet as an attempt to no seem awkward.
Peter was fast to change the subject saying, “We’ll be in my room if you need us.”
A familiar flutter erupted in your chest when Peter opened his bedroom door. Star Wars bedsheets. Comic books. Action figures. Video games. Superhero posters. This was the best side of Peter, all the greatest parts of him splattered throughout his room like a trophy on display. There had been a time when all of it was just for you. Only you were special enough to know and love the Peter that lived behind these walls.
Your mom was out of town for a business trip, so you were spending the weekend with Peter and Aunt May. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Peter to have a sleepover. May had been babysitting you overnight practically since the first day you moved next door.
Peter was sitting at one end of his bed and you were at the other.
“Okay,” you tossed a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Who are you crushing on right now?”
Peter went stiff. He had been crushing on the same girl since he was 8-years-old. “Um. No one really. I don’t really have my eye on anybody.”
“Ugh, Pete. You’re so boring!”
“Okay, fine. Who are you crushing on?”
A shy smile crept across your face. “I don’t know. Well, I guess if I had to pick, I kind of think Brad Davis is cute.”
Peter pretended to gag himself. “Brad Davis? You’re way better than that.”
You rolled your eyes at him, throwing the pillow in your lap at his head. “You’re probably right. Brad has definitely kissed like tons of girls, and I haven’t even kissed one boy! Isn’t that embarrassing? I’m 14, and I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”
“Well, I haven’t had my first kiss either.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Should we just get it over with?”
Peter nearly choked on his own tongue. “W-what do you mean?”
“Peter, I mean should we just kiss each other and get our first kiss over with!” You explained like it was the most casual idea in the world.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Peter agreed.
You crawled up the bed until you were sitting right in front of him.
“So, how should we…?” Peter trailed off.
You laid your palm against Peter’s cheek and brushed your thumb back and forth a few times. You secretly praised your mom for making you sit down and watch all of those cheesy rom-coms with her. It made you feel prepared. Peter’s face was hot to the touch because he was blushing.
He was watching you innocently yet also so intensely. Before this, you couldn’t remember a time when you and Peter had been so intimate. You closed your eyes and pressed your lips against his. Kissing Peter felt natural. It felt like something you could do forever.
The kiss only lasted a few minutes before the door swung open. “Do you guys want to order piz- OH NO. MY EYES.”
After that, May decided that Peter had to sleep on the couch whenever you stayed over.
You were still basking in nostalgia when you sat down beside Peter at his desk.
“Do you want to start with atomic structure?” Peter asked. “It was covered in the beginning of the new unit, and I’m sure it will be on the next test.”
You ignored him, picking up a picture frame on the side of his desk. It was a picture of you and Peter on Halloween. You were both 10 and obsessed with Mario Kart. You begged your parents to let you dress up as Mario and Princess Peach.
“I can’t believe you still have this. I remember we ate too many gummy worms that night and May told us that we had gummy butterflies growing in our stomachs and we cried.” You laughed. It was the first time Peter heard you laugh in so long. It made him smile.
You looked back up at him. For a moment, there was a sense of normalcy between the two of you as you smiled at each other.
“Y/N, I-”
You cut him off. “Yeah, so atomic structure, right?”
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hollyhomburg · 2 years
Text
Before I Leave you (Pt. 39)
 (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: Tae comes out, you confront jin about the mating marks, and jimin gets a forest sized stick shoved up his ass (not literally)
Pairings: Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin, Beta! Yoongi,
Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, Verbal arguments, Shame, Dysphoria, coming out, overly involved metaphors, talk of god/religion, Trans characters, Trauma, implied PTSD, talks of the m/c’s past suicide attempt in chapter 5, talk of sexuality, Pansexual! Jimin, implied autistic! Jimin, meltdowns,
W/c: 7.7k
A/n: Sorry in advance for being a meanie~ (author continues to be not sorry at all~) i will try my best to update next weekend as well so this cliffhanger doesn’t leave you wanting too much
Previous Chapter- Masterlist
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(20 years prior, Jimin)
The sun is burning much too hot for the end of September- although the children in the schoolyard would never think to comment on it. Too busy chasing after kickballs like small brightly color planets and shouting ‘tag you’re it!” as loud as they can. Every inch of happiness accompanied by little feet pattering across the parking lot like the first fallen leaves of autumn. The cold hasn’t hit them yet. 
The woods wait at the edge of the playground, an impenetrable fortress of green. Full of spiky bushes and icky things. Here, where civilization is butted right up against the edge of the wilderness, safety is carefully cultivated within chain link fences. Anything to keep the fun in and the fear out.
Two children sit on the swings apart from all the rest. The chains are rusty and squeaky but no less loved. Jimin loves to watch the forest move. He loves to watch the trees blur like faraway monsters dancing, lifting their silvery leaves to the wind and showing their undersides.
Tae knows Jimin likes it so that’s where they always sit, side by side like this at recess.
Although their relationship is not without their exchange, Jimin smiles down at his light-up shoes as he listens to Tae talk. Tae looks handsome as usual in his Pokémon tee-shirt- his chubby face already belying the beauty that he’ll have when he’s older. Jimin can see it, can feel the pitter-patter of his heart in response to it.
He might not know what love is yet, but he’s learning.
Tae sways the way that trees do at a distance, his movements all graceful. He knows Tae will be beautiful when he's older the same way he knows his parents are going to get divorced one day; his mother spends hours in the bathroom, plying and stretching and picking at the barely forming wrinkles on her face.
Aphrodite has a way of letting you know when she’s there, whether in hatred or in love.
Tae has told Jimin the Greek myths time and time again; he likes the tale of Achilles the best. But Jimin can’t read yet so Tae reads to him, Jimin always asks to hear the tale of Orpheus because that’s Tae’s favorite.
Jimin and Taehyung aren’t JiminandTaehyung yet, they won’t be for a few years more. But for now, Jimin watches Tae talk about his most recent book, cupids touch in every little blink.
“And then he just like- pulled him from the dragon’s mouth right before it could snap shut. It was kind of gross to read but I promise Minnie it was so romantic!” 
Tae says it like it’s quite possibly the best thing. Like he’s just said, “I’ve won the lottery” or “I’ve saved the last fruit snack package for you” or, “my mom and your mom said we can move into the same room, we spend so much time with each other anyway, why should we dream in separate places when you are my dream?”
(Although the first is equally as unlikely as the last. Jimin and Taehyung’s parents continue to be a thorn in their sides and only let them have sleepovers twice a week during the school year.)
“You like reading a lot of books like that” Jimin comments, “books where the alpha’s a boy and the omega’s a boy.” Tae’s eyes are mini smiles when he glances up, drawing what looks to be a dragon’s tooth in the dirt with the edge of his shoe.
“Really?”
Jimin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say what he wants struggling with his words the same way he always does (the same way that has his teachers exchanging pitying glances.)
“Do you like boys?” he blurts, and when Tae looks up, his cheeks are their normal color, not ruddy or pink like cupid might have kissed his skin. Not like Jimin who feels his cheeks flaming. “-Because I was thinking the other day when you asked me if I had a crush on any of the girls in our class, and I- I think I like boys.”
“Oh,” Tae says, “that’s okay, I think I like boys too.”
Taehyung’s mind dips, thinking thoughts of 'he doesn't like girls. But that's okay because Taehyung can be a boy if Jimin wants a boy.’ and  Jimin’s mind gathers up thoughts of omega Tae and alpha Jimin and casts them in a Greek myth. Tae the omega in a pretty purple skirt- back when boy omegas didn’t dress like boys yet. And Jimin hums, satisfied by his daydream.
Later that night when his mother makes him pray (because Jimin’s mother is always making him do that) Jimin asks very very sincerely, as honestly as a 6-year-old can muster.
He perches on the edge of his lightning McQueen bedspread and whispers his small hopes to the heavens above. Starts that shine in all their coldness and give nothing easy to the boy below.
"Dear god. I’ve been thinking; I’ve got in mind some improvements you could make. 
If you have a choice make me an alpha and TaeTae an omega. Whatever you do- don’t make us the same, please. I want to have Tae with me for a long long time and the world has a way of separating things that are the same. So please- if you do exist- make us different."
 There wasn’t anything divine in that little bedroom, but I guess in a wicked way, god insisted.
~-~
(Now, You) 
Sometime later, when the sun has dipped below the horizon and Jimin’s tireless pacing has stopped, you and Tae ready yourselves for what waits outside of the library room.
You stand in the half darkness barely a few inches apart, enswathed in the comfort you steal from each other regularly and know that it can’t last for long. Doomed and Starcrossed. The 8 by 10 walls that have been your safe place to be torn down soon, the resting place for this secret all vacant. 
It’s all operating on borrowed time. After tonight everything will change (and only time will tell if it will be for the better.)
So you wait for just a few minutes more, and spend just a little longer enjoying each others company. You don’t want to let go of this just yet. You press yourself all along Tae’s side to comfort her and she shakes harder when your hands retract from her waist.
(Something about the space has you convinced that’s where your hands belong. You can’t deny that you’re drawn to the inches of honey skin above her hipbones. You have a way of knowing what parts of Tae don’t make her as  dysphoric as the rest. Your touch like a breath of wind to a flame making her burn brighter.)
She pets over the back of your head as you look up at her. Cheek squished against her chest, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I think I will be, just-” her hand wraps with yours, her thumb rubbing over the back of it, warm and small and so so important. “Don’t let go, okay?”
“Never,” you promise. 
You give her hand a single squeeze in promise and step forward to open the door (because you know Tae’s not strong enough to open it on her own) letting the light and the noise of tense conversations slip in. Tugging her unwilling form out into the open. 
The pack is stands around the kitchen island in varying positions of distress. Usually by this time of night dinner would be underway; steam would be gathering in a haze above the burners, and half of the sink would be filled with cutting boards (because Jin somehow always manages to use every one of them when cooking). But instead, the light hangs too bright after your time spent in the darkness, the fluorescences stark and the air heavy with the scent of your packmates distress.
Hobi is the only one sitting, head in his hands and his fingers threaded in his dark hair. Namjoon’s hand hovers on his shoulder and squeezes at it lightly, fingers itching towards a scruff. Jin looks like he’s been through it, his shirt unbuttoned and his hair sticking up in the back, far from his usual vision of omega grace and beauty. 
Hobi smells as unhappy as he did the night you almost left; the night where broken glass glittered on the floor where Yoongi stands now. Maybe you should have regarded it as a promise of more to come, but you’ve never believed in omens.
Jimin isn’t much better, twitching with wild jerky movements, anxiety made alive, Jungkook tries to talk to him and calm him down. the omega cups his cheeks, speaking to him in that low happy way that jungkook speaks when he’s nesting, but you can tell just from watching him for a few seconds that it’s having the opposite effect on Jimin. 
Jimin needs something to bite, he’s biting his lip so hard it looks like he’s going to tear through it. Your mate is the first one to notice your reappearance, his head jerking in your direction.  
You and Hobi make eye contact and it darts away as quickly as it came. His cheeks look puffy- like he’s been crying, and the guilt threatens to swallow you like a tidal wave.
It’s a good thing Jimin doesn’t immediately notice the closing of the door, his back to it. His words make you feel winded, “-So they’re mated- no shit.” Jimin says, “I don’t get why it’s a big deal.”
He can be a bit brutal sometimes, words like a blunt knife with the way that his brain makes sense of things. He’s so strung out on worry that his whole body shakes, everything from his knees knocking to his blonde hair trebling, all messed up like he’s been tugging at it.
Jungkook sighs when Jimin’s hands curl around his wrists and he pulls his hands away from his face,  he stands with his shoulders curled in, watching Jimin like he’s waiting for him to break. “We have bigger problems like Tae- He’s-“ 
You shift your weight from one foot to another and Jimin whirls, eyes settling on Tae like she's the first bit of sunlight slipping over the horizon after a long long night.
Jin sips at his water from the sink, every little movement belying his anger. But it's flagging, forced and in-genuine. Jin will have to let it go sooner rather than later but you have more important things to focus on as Jimin stumbles to Tae’s side and the rest of the pack quiets.
“Tae baby- just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it- is it about the marks-“ his voice goes a little less frantic, a little more measured. He reaches out to touch her and lets out a heartbreaking whine when Tae flinches back from her soulmate's touch.
You never thought you'd have to step between the two of them, but you find yourself doing just that. Hiding Tae from view because she already looks like she wants to dash back inside the library room and hide some more.
Jimin’s eyes flicker down to yours just briefly but he doesn’t look angry about it- no- if you had to pick one word to describe Jimin’s look it would be impressed. But there isn’t space for much else but panic when it comes to Tae’s sadness and Jimin's tireless anxiety.
Maybe it should hurt more, the fact that Jimin doesn’t really care about you right now. (But maybe you’d be a hypocrite if you complained because Tae is also your priority).
Jungkook huffs, “Would you stop hyper-fixating on Tae for a second” and remember that you have 6 other packmates he means to say, but you send him a single withering look. You don’t think that anyone needs to cut Jimin down more, this is hard enough. Jimin barely even turns at Jungkook’s bitten words.
“No, it’s not that. I’ve known about the marks for a while.” (The night you exchanged your secrets holds a special place in Tae's heart. Tae hadn’t been prepared to give you anything- much less the love that burns through her now. But that hadn’t stopped you giving her your all.) 
Tae’s confession makes more than one packmate straighten up, Jin narrows his eyes accusingly but avoids your gaze. 
Tae’s glance down at you is more steadying than you’d ever admit. Makes you feel surer as you square your stance against Jimin. You reach to touch Jimin’s hand, stopping at the last second letting him decide if he wants to touch your right now, after a second he moves to take it, although his worn palms feel clammy.
“Minnie, would you just come and sit for a second? Can we just- can we talk?”
Jimin has eyes for only Tae- but it’s Jin who sighs after a breath, quieting Minnie with a touch to his shoulder. You wish people would stop touching Jimin without asking right now, everything about his body-language indicates someone who doesn’t want to be touch. 
Jin looks at you from under his bangs, not saying a word. The cold hurt in his eyes startles you. It’s not quite detached, but you have never seen Jin so quiet with his sadness before nor have you ever been in a position with him where you can’t offer comfort. 
Every footstep he makes towards the table has your anxiety climbing higher and higher. He pulls out two chairs, the shrill sound of the legs dragging on the wood loud in the quiet, and gestures for you and Tae to sit.
You gulp.
The silence is heavy, punctuated by listless murmurs and the quieter squeaks of the other chairs as you all sit. No one dares disobey the pack omega right now. Yoongi sits on your side at the head of the table and Tae sits on the other. Jungkook takes the other seat beside Tae between him and Namjoon at his usual spot at the other head of the table. Jimin, Hobi, and Jin file in at the opposite side, an impenetrable wall of anxious scents. 
Jimin looks like he's going to jump out of his skin, too much feeling rocketing through his little body to keep still. Next to him, Hobi folds his arms. Jin starts to retort something and start on the mating marks but you interrupt him. 
“What Tae and I need to tell you is more important to you than any of that- I promise. Would you mind just sitting for a second?” It takes no small amount of bravery for you to keep Jin's eye contact even as he glares.
He’s angry, but it doesn’t make him any less in love or proud of you, any other day he'd be beaming to see you stick up for yourself like this, Jin looks away to sate his mounting guilt. Minnie’s knee jumps up and down rapidly under the table, listlessly stimming. Your mate sends you a tiny look, just a furrowed brow in confusion.
Because Yoongi doesn’t know this secret either, this one will be just yours and Tae’s for only a second longer. You straighten your back- begging yourself to be strong- to do this well for her.
You sit at the table in silence for a few seconds and it’s hard not to just come out and say it, to rip off the metaphorical band-aid. The sentence ‘Tae is transgender’ hovers on the tip of your tongue. 
If you ever had to wonder if your love made a difference, it’s now as Tae sits up straighter. She looks like she’s trying to be brave, a girl growing into her thorns. Your knuckles are white with how hard she’s squeezing them.
Jin isn’t looking at you. Jin isn’t looking at you at all and it makes you angry. The overhead lights buzz in the quiet, and Jin’s ire distracts you from your primary purpose in this- which is to help Tae come out.
Your voice comes quieter than you thought it would when you finally speak. “When I first came here- when I first met you all I was so terrified.”
It’s a confession, but not the one they’d been expecting. Your sudden honesty eases more than one tense packmate as you tip your face, closing your eyes to better remember the fear. You’d been so paralyzed the first few times you’d met them. For the first time since finding out about the mating mark Jin looks at you without anger clouding his eyes.
“Terrified that you’d hate me for everything I did to you- what I took from you without even knowing you- that you’d want to hurt me for it- take your pick. You couldn’t count the things I was scared of, but I wasn’t scared that you wouldn’t like me for who I was. That was easy to count on.”
The room is as quiet as a tomb when you look at them through heavy-lidded eyes. Quiet with your anguish because it has never mattered much to you. maybe its a testament to how much love has changed you because Jin’s lack of concern stings as he remains unreadable.
Your eyes lock with his and you lean over the table. “I know you love us but I don’t think you get it Jin, I think you play all high and mighty but you don’t fucking understand. Do you know that I begged Yoongi to let me die? Rather than let him mark me?”
Jin looks away, Namjoon makes a strained noise in his throat- half a growl half a noise of discomfort. Hobi stays quiet. Tae’s hand goes harder in yours. It’s one thing to know and another to hear you say it.
A cold chill settles over the room and no one feels it as strongly as you and Yoongi. “Would you rather that have happened Jin? Because I would have. I wanted to. Yoongi and the mark is the only reason why I'm still breathing." 
“Pup-” He starts, but you interrupt him again, this time it doesn’t get you a glare. 
“If you want to be angry that i’m alive- get in line. But I don’t want to hear it. I can’t-” Yoongi takes your other hand. Smoothing over your knuckles with both of his, Tae tugs her chair closer to yours so that your hips touch. 
Hoseok sits watching you. There is a furious sort of honesty in your face, people don't lie and joke about these things, but you're so factual with it. laying it out in stark terms because to describe how it was with any emotion is to surrender yourself to the flood of it. Hobi knows better than most how unfair it can be, unable to feel what you want to feel.
The memory runs through him- you in the front seat of Jimin's car, looking breakable and worn. ‘Do I really even want this life if it's going to be this way? When it hardly feels like I’m living at all.’ 
You’ve never said it out loud- you’ve never told them of your weakest moment like this. Was it a moment of true weakness? Or one of pure strength? To keep going when everything told you not to.
Everything but Yoongi. 
Jin can handle a lot of things but hearing you say that isn’t one of them, Jin feels like he’s going to cry for every reason and no reason at all. The feelings in him all cut up and finely minced. All the guilt and wanting and hurt a mixed bowl of ingredients with no soup to be added to. Too much love and not enough anger, not like before. Jin feels it melt away as he watches you and Yoongi.
“I’m sorry.” Jin says, inhaling unevenly like he’s trying not to cry. 
He’s never seen you like this before, and the second the words slipped from your lips the same second he wish he’d never reacted. He wishes he’d never found the key to the upstairs, that he’d never thought to be angry at you for this. 
It’s a reminder not to think with your instincts first if anything, Jin reacted without the proper information and although you don’t look like you’re going to hold it against him- he almost wishes you might. But pain can’t always pay for pain, now when you love someone. You hurting Jin won’t make him feel any less guilty. 
Which is why you ignore his apology. 
You still don't know how to think about it, what you almost did. But whatever death brings you doubt you'd have been quite so happy as you are here;
You wouldn't have had the soft kisses pressed to your forehead every morning, you wouldn't know what it felt like to wake up and be safe. You wouldn't have had felt laughter and happiness that built its way into your chest the same way love builds other works of art. You wouldn't have Tae. 
Every minute spent living in this house has been a treasure.
Yoongi’s heart races and he closes his eyes rather than remember the moment. The ache of watching you almost die never stops throbbing in his chest. Yoongi's not sure if it will ever stop hurting or if he'll ever stop feeling thankful that you hadn't tried after. 
That had been your one suicide attempt, Your only one. Although there had been other moments in the months that followed that had made him nervous that you might try again. When the days had stretched with you neither speaking nor eating.  
Acts of desperation like that have a way of sticking to you. A separate kind of trauma comes from something that you do to yourself.  
For a moment- you want to let go of Tae’s hand, the clamminess too similar to how your palms felt tacky with blood. For a moment you’re back there; the smell of gunpowder (it’s unfortunate that Jimin’s unhappy scent smells so similar) and burning blood on the air, a terrible blackness in your chest begging you to lie your head down and just go.
You lift your face, and the light cuts across it jaggedly. “When you guys moved in it didn't take long to realize I wasn’t the only one afraid, once Tae and I started to hang out in the library room-” 
You’re meandering towards the point, but your pain and Tae’s are dreadfully similar. Both of you hadn’t shared this secret because you were afraid it would incur a lack of love.
“It was just before my rut,” Tae says, finally breaking her silence, encouraging you by ducking close and rubbing her cheek on the top of your head in comfort, a small scent mark, “Wait- Do you think that’s what triggered it?”
You huff a soft breath, and even though it feels out of place it is no less sweet when you bump your head into Tae’s shoulder. “Maybe,” you say, though you guess you’ll never know for sure. What if it was the catalyst? Was your love the thing that finally made her body bend to its instincts?
A truck on your street slams its door and it shocks you all making you flinch. Jimin actually growls, turning to the door like he might go start shouting at it.
Namjoon leans back in his chair, his hand going to the back of Jimin’s neck, rubbing over it mindlessly to calm the other alpha down. His legs crossed, jutting his chin out at you as if to say ‘go on pup, you’re doing fine.’
Your heart pulses frantically in your chest and you hold onto Tae’s hands tighter. “It didn’t take long for it to become a habit and we-”
“Can you just spit it out,” Jimin snaps desperately, fear rocketing through him so violently he can't stay still, rocking back and forth like a ship in a storm. “Please.”
Tae's hand a vice around yours, her breath coming all quick and tiny beside you. 
“I’m trying to say that Tae’s a girl, she’s been a girl for as long as you’ve known her and she just didn’t want to say. We started, exploring her gender a few months ago with makeup and clothes and stuff. She didn’t realize that’s what she was- that’s what she could be if she wanted until- until I helped her in the library.” 
(There is none of that shit about being born in the wrong body because it's not just that. To be a butterfly that only looks like a moth, or a flower and a weed. No metaphor does it justice- how it feels to compromise in such a way that betrays your nature. The near daily humiliation that a soul can feel so keenly).
You let go of Yoongi’s hands and reach across the table to try and take Jimin’s, but he snatches them back just as quickly. Tae's eyes are screwed shut, not willing to watch the pack fall apart because of her, unwilling to wait and see the precise way that her pack falls apart with this knowledge. Because of that- she misses the way the whole table freezes-
And then relaxes.
Now that it’s out you can’t stop yourself from rambling, “-And she does want to be a girl, she is a girl- we hid it from you- not because she didn’t trust you but because she just wanted to be sure- And I guess she’s sure now- She didn’t want to cut her hair but she didn’t want to come out yet- which is why it made her sad- and that why she was crying when you came home and-”
"Pup- breathe," you're nearly hyperventilating, unable to disobey Namjoon’s command as you gasp.
The knot between Jin and Namjoon's shoulders eases and the pack alpha actually cracks a relieved smile. (What- with the way that you and her were so knit together- Namjoon honestly expected levels of unintended pregnancy catastrophic. This by comparison, is much easier to mitigate.)
Yoongi’s looking at Tae with fresh eyes, not surprised or shocked at all- just soft with how you glare at all of them, how your face says ‘say anything transphobic and I’ll end you’ without you speaking a word. Even though you and Jimin are shaking like puppies confronted with a vacuum monster.
Jungkook's mouth makes a little ‘oh’ and so does Hobi’s. Jungkook gives Tae a few of his wide-eyed bunny blinks. The anxiety builds, thrumming until a small sob slips past her lips, you remedy it almost instantly winding your body around hers. 
Jimin feels like there's an avalanche falling over him, his skin freezing as the cold truth washes his body clean of warmth, leaving his tongue numb. Brain fissioning, neurons tearing themselves apart as they rewire themselves to account for new information. The very axis of his world shifted a few degrees to make the summers and springs longer and the winters and falls brief.
Tae speaks, because while your words were pretty- they’re not her own. And hearing you say it makes her own mouth feel less vivid with fear. Her eyes remain fixed on your clasped hands. You haven’t let go of them once, just like you promised. 
“Once I really started living with you it was like I couldn’t stop feeling it. It was so painful to see you for those first few weeks.” your cute mouth tugs into a frown, another reminder. Tae wonders if she’ll ever stop feeling jealous of you.
“You got to be pretty and soft in the way I wanted to be, you got to be loved in the way I’ve always wanted to be loved. Dysphoria is- fuck- it’s fucking terrible, and I couldn’t avoid it no matter how hard I tried.”
You’ve talked about it before; you tuck yourself more firmly around Tae like you can banish it with just your body. You’ll never stop apologizing for that- for how you’d made her feel bad just by being you.
But you have nothing to apologize for, because even with the dysphoria you make it feel so much better, so much easier to bear. Tae shivers remembering that her reflection doesn’t look the same as it did this morning, the short and blunt cut edges of her hair hitting the tops of her ears a needle-like reminder. She’ll probably avoid mirrors for a while, she wonders if Jin would let her put something over the one in the bathroom.  
Yoongi stretches out his hand, tentatively taking Tae’s other one. His hands are so strong, but they're still smaller than Tae's. Tae has the largest hands out of everyone in the pack- the ones that are best for holding. But it's not like your tiny palm in his other.
Oh, what Tae wouldn't give to be tiny like you. Even now, the dysphoria rages like a pink-edged storm. The silver lining is all mauve.
Tae finds the same usual smile on Yoongi's face, gentler maybe. “What does it feel like? The dysphoria, I want to understand it.”
Tae lifts your hand, pressing your knuckles over her heart, “it feels like you’re rotting- right here. At best- that’s what it feels like. Like you're dying and there's nothing that anyone can do, nothing that anyone can fix. Or like you’re bleeding out but only you can see it.”
Hobi speaks for the first time, rubbing a finger against his lower lip, “and at worst?” Tae flinches and doesn't answer his question.
Every little pained breath that comes from Tae’s mouth feels like a dagger cutting through Jimin’s viscera, dissecting him. Here take out the ribs first- they’ve grown all strange and gnarled. Why would a thing that loves have grown claws? 
The table falls silent, no one has any words for it, the realization that someone they held so dear has been hurting for so long. Jin swallows back a lump in his throat when he realizes you’re right; this is a lot more important than the mating marks.
Oh Tae. 
To hide this for so long, to hurt for so long right in front of them- Jin’s rarely ever so frantic, to make things right. “Tell us Tae- tell us how to keep you from feeling that way, fuck- I feel like an asshole for not noticing- Is- do you need- What can we do? Please? I-“ he breaks off, for the first time, lost for words.
Tae bites her lower lip, the words all shaky. “I know that this is a lot to hear. I know that you might not- like it as much. I know that I’m not- that I don’t look like-"
Jungkook is ever the mood maker, perhaps sensing how everyone is about to devolve into tears, “Does that mean you’re gonna call them all Oppa now? Cuz thats so cute I might get jealous. Should we call you Taenoona instead of Taehyung or do you just wanna keep the same name-”
You've never scolded Jungkook before, “Koo-”
But Jungkook’s smile is mischievous and lovely, he leans back, crossing his arms behind his head, stretching and flexing them in his black tee-shirt. “You’re all really bad at keeping secrets you know. Every single one of you."
“What are you talking about?”
Jungkook stretches his arm around you to squeeze Tae’s cheek. It blooms pink beneath his touch. Jungkook’s grin is all bunny teeth, boyish and gorgeous. Being on the receiving end of such a grin makes the dysphoria ebb just a little.
“Tae, who does the laundry in this house?”
“You.” You’re all intimately aware of Junkgook’s near dogmatic ritual. How he dumps all your clothes together and then lifts them one by one to sort them, everything but underwear and socks gets sorted this way, because Jungkook loves the pack's scents, loves to almost nest with them in the basement. you’ve found him asleep in a pile of laundry in the basement before. It's a little gross sometimes, but Jungkook's your little laundry bunny.
Jungkook reaches again, to pinch at your scent gland, and you swat his hand away- annoyed. “And do you know who all your new dresses smell like?”
You look back at him so quick it almost gives you whiplash, “You knew?”
Jungkook leans over, nudging Namjoon’s shoulder. “Sucky secret keepers, the lot of them.” 
The pack alpha turns his eyes on Tae then, smiling at her, "I'm so happy you told us Tae, seriously. Thank you for being honest,” It's Tae's turn to be surprised, blinking owlishly at the pack alpha. blushing at the attention. tae lets go of your hand for the first time when she grabs both of namjoon’s, “I know it must have taken you a lot of bravery to tell us this, but I promise we won't disappoint you."
Hobi swallows thickly, nodding in agreement with Namjoon. “So- about the Taenoona thing- is Tae fine? Or I there something else that you want to be called? A more feminine name?”
Tae’s cheeks are two round pink peaches, blushing as the pack alpha looks at her so plainly, barely able to keep herself from smiling, heart thudding with the knowledge that oh- this actually- this isn’t terrible. This is actually going kind of well.
“i’ve never thought about it really, but I think Tae’s better than taehyung, I like being called Tae.” It might have something to do with the way that your mouth moves around that syllable, all pink and rosy cute, that makes something in Tae’s tummy flutter. It’s hard to feel dysphoric about something that sounds so sweet. “It’s not like the hair thing, ‘Tae’ doesn’t give me dysphoria,”
Jin runs his hands over his face,“Fuck, your hair, I’m so sorry pup-“
“S’not your fault Jinnie. You didn’t know.” Tae bites her plush lips. “I’m sorry for startling everyone when I got home.”
“Do you want to dye it? Is there anything we can do?” Jin turns to you, because you’ve been a woman for longer, and you’ve helped Tae with this up until this point and you don’t have to do this alone again. For the first time in your relationship they're learning how to love from you. “Are wigs an option? Would they help?”
“I don’t know, maybe?”
"There's always extensions," Jungkook comments, definitely not mentioning one of his private clients got them caught in an exercise machine once and thats the only reason why he knows about them.
You turn back to Tae, “Do you want to try?”
Jimin’s brain is narrowed down to the one person that has always mattered the most. Blood and love rush through his ears that block out your banter. The wave builds until it bursts. Jimin tries, tries his hardest to speak and hold it back. but things are happening so quickly- when Jimin is still reeling from your words and Tae's too.
“Maybe just, hair dye? Pink might be nice. I think it might help, with the dysphoria.”
"You'd look so cute with pink."
Jungkook tucks his feet beneath his body, "Wait if you get pink hair I might actually want it too."
Namjoon reaches over, running his hand through Yoongi’s blonde mop “you know you could do it like really easily.”
Yoongi shrugs off Namjoon's comment, all plucky and put upon but loving it, “if it will make Tae happy then you can drag me there right now.”
"It could be like- couples colors!"
Jimin’s voice is so quiet, so aching, but no less pained, fingers digging into the table so hard that his nail-beds ache. Tae would hear Jimin’s voice even if it happening in a downpour, thunder and lightning, nothing is quite as earth shattering as ire from someone you love.  
“Why?”
Tae's a little too excited, however, to properly guess at Jimin's question. She tugs at a lock of her hair, staring not at him, but down at your clasped hands with a soft smile. “I think that maybe it’s like- a color thing. I've never been allowed to like pink you know so maybe it’s-“
“No that’s not- that’s not what I’m asking,” Jimin waves his hand flippantly and your mouth hardens into a line. “I’m not asking why, what I’m asking is why the fuck you neglected to tell me this till now."
Everyone around the table stills, the fun, and joy of all of it extinguished in a moment as Jimin watches Tae, his eye swimming with tears, heartbreaking over her.
"Tae- why didn’t you say anything?”
Tae flinches, and you struggle not to jump down Jimin’s throat for his tone alone. Tae’s voice is pleading, and oh
Oh, she realizes, maybe her fear wasn’t all for nothing. Maybe the hope of the last few moments had only hurt her more. Because the rest of the pack is accepting but Minnie-
Minnie's glaring, and it’s a good thing that Tae knows what he looks like when he's about to cry. Jimin's eyebrows knit together like they're gates to hold back the flood.  
Tae lets go of Namjoon's hand and reaches for Jimin’s but this time- it’s the other alpha that declines his touch. Even when Jimin's overstimulated, he can usually handle touches from Tae, but not right now. Now Jimin's skin burns. 
“Minnie you- you like boys. You only liked boys until her. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid that you wouldn’t-”
Jimin holds up a hand, stopping her, “Don’t you dare say you were afraid that I wouldn't love you Tae. Don’t throw my love for you back at my feet over something as simple as fear." Jin's eyes are brown and guilty when they meet Yoongi's, and the beta holds his glance. 
The first time Jimin uttered the words ‘I think I like boys’ was the first time that Tae's heart broke. But child hurts are often adult wounds and Tae and Jimin are bleeding all over the floor with this. 
"Minnie-" Jin begs, Namjoon reaches over to scruff the alpha but Jimin swats his hands away, moving so quickly you would have thought Namjoon’s touch was poison. 
Jimin’s crying, wet cheeks, and wet eyelashes too. “It’s always been you Tae- Do you think so lowly of me that I wouldn’t love you? Is this a joke to you? Am I a joke to you?” the feeling rockets through him so hard that he stands, chair skitters back, falling upended. Your hand goes cold as Tae leaves you.
Tae tries to hold him, to grab him, but Jimin swats her hands away. Crying too hard to see. “Minnie no- I was just- I just didn’t want to tell you yet. I was just worried-”  
“Don’t you dare lie to me Kim Tae-” the second syllable of that dies in Jimin’s throat. “How could you think that I wouldn���t love you? No matter who you wanted to be or what color you wanted to dye your fucking hair!" Jimin can't get his words out around his sobs, near incoherent. "You’ve been hurting for years and you just- you let me hurt you. When that was the one thing you where never supposed to let me do. Love isn't supposed to hurt!”
(That is perhaps the most bitter lie isn't it? That it is the people who love you who often hurt you the worst.)
“Do you remember what you told me when we were kids Minnie?” Tae's voice shakes. “You were always gay Jimin- You always liked boys, so don’t you dare blame me for choosing you over me! Not when you would have done the same!”
Jimin is crying, hands closing and opening rhythmically by his sides. Jin makes to stand and get between them but you shoot him a look. This isn’t a fight that any of you can have for Jimin and Tae. No matter how bad you want to get in-between them.
“Would you have ever told me? Would you have ever told us? If it wasn’t for her?” Jimin’s finger jabbing in your direction makes you flinch and Yoongi's jaw ticks.  
Tae is lost for words. Silent and standing there, unwilling to answer. 
“I see, once you saw me love her you- you-“ Jimin sounds almost sick at the words. That someone he loves has been hurting because of him. All this time, Years and years of pain that are all his fault.
“If you think I wouldn’t love you th-then-“ Jimin’s hands are shaking so violently, and you know a breakdown when you see one. he runs his hands through his hair and yanks. "I love you- you know I love you!” he cries “none of this would change that- no matter what! That's what we agreed on! That we’d love each other Tae- fuck- Tae."
Tae and Jimin have always been cradle to grave. They have always been soulmates. Jimin thought that counted for something. But this isn’t just anything. Tae let herself hurt for the sake of Jimin’s worldview and that is something that Jimin cannot forgive- or at least can’t forgive easily. Tae was always supposed to be both of their priorities. That was their agreement.
Tae’s voice breaks, “You love me yeah? Well you haven’t said it in weeks Minnie.” It’s the wrong thing to say. No allegation would make Jimin angrier than the idea that he doesn’t love Tae to the fullest extent that he’s capable of. 
He's lost for words mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. When they were younger the words used to fall from Jimin's lips as often as rain, but now that they've been together for so long they say them less frequently. The same is true with Jin and Namjoon. Years in love can make you sloppy but Jimin can’t find the words anything other than wounding. 
Jimin’s teeth grind against each other, "People don't just say I love you.”
"They say 'bring your jacket it's cold out’ and 'I made you lunch' before you even say you're hungry, or they know your favorite coffee cup without asking and never take it even though they made the coffee first.” Tae does that for you- you realize. You didn’t think that Jimin had been keeping track.
“People don't just say I love you or just love you as a singular act, they don't skip your favorite song even if they hate it, and they act crazy when you get sick” Jungkook and Hoseok flush. “Or they pretend not to notice when you've got a bit of broccoli stuck in your teeth.” Namjoon huffs. Jimin might not understand this yet, but he does understand love.
“They learn what kind of jokes are your favorite and get better at telling them on purpose- people love you on purpose.” The upstairs room aches with Yoongi's many hours, how many moments of his life has he spent on it? He couldn't say those moments were poorly spent, any moment spent in love is worth it.
“They learn to make a big deal out of the things that are big for you and not to bother when the annoyance is slight because every annoyance should be slight when it comes to someone you love." Jin's arms wrap around his waist tighter.
(People don't just say I love you- they promise things like I will give you smile lines and laugh lines if it kills me, I will carve wrinkles into your face with the force of my love, and hand you a pen when you want to write you name on my heart.)
"They don't just say I love you, they show it. And I’ve shown you it with everything I’ve ever done, every breath I’ve ever taken- so please- please don’t say I didn’t love you enough for you to come to me with this, be honest with me. Because I did. You know I did."
You and Jin share a long angsty look across the table. Your and Yoongi’s hands remain clasped and the omega crosses his arms. Defiant with it- although you never expected him to love you without it. 
There is more to be settled here.
“I love you so much I can't stand it. Maybe if I loved you less I’d be able to think more rationally about this, but Tae- I can't- I can't breathe around how much love I have for you. And maybe that’s why this hurts so fucking much, that I’m so in pain by loving you and yet, you don't believe me. You never did otherwise you would have just said something-"
But instead of agreeing Tae shakes her head, lips screwing into something like a snarl. Alpha aggression is a volatile thing and Namjoon almost gets up to scruff them even though it would be inappropriate. He can’t bear to see them hurt each other like this.
Her short bangs barely budge “knowing someone loves you isn't just trusting them not to hurt you Minnie. I respect what we had, and whatever you want from me now I'll accept- even if it's nothing. I’ve been hurting over this for years That’s why I didn't tell you- I didn't tell you because I know you love me. Not despite it. I’m sorry but I couldn't risk losing you."
“Bullshit-“ Jimin sobs, a wild and broken thing that just about wrenches his heart clean out of his chest. Tae’s love has always made Jimin human and now he’s nothing but something wriggling and miserable. Slimy in his sadness, unwanted at its core.
“Bullshit- Tae- I’ve never- I couldn’t-”
One second the emotion is rocketing through him bright as a comet and the next, Jimin goes so still it's frightening. Like a supernova, one moment all the mass in the universe spread out and the next it has narrowed down to a single point of anger and pain.
If Jimin had a heart, he’d remove it and leave it at Tae’s feet. There is no use for Jimin’s love if Tae doesn’t want it and is committed to miss-understanding it. there is no Jimin without tae. 
Tae pretends it doesn’t hurt when Jimin walks away. 
He passes by her without even a brush of her hand or a goodbye kiss. Tae pretends her heart doesn’t break as she watches him grab his coat and walk out the front door, grabbing his keys too. She pretends it doesn’t hurt that he doesn’t look back, that she’s left in the kitchen with the warm yellow lights cutting wounds across her face.
6 other people in the room, and the only one that she wants to comfort her right now- gone.
He leaves her standing there by the center island, alone like a ship in a dark sea, the last light winking out. It's not worth it, It's not worth being a woman if it means I don't get to love you, I'll take it back, I'll take it back if it means you'll still love me. 
The front door slams shut.
~-~
(Next chapter Coming Next Saturday September 24th at 5pm EST)
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whisperingmidnights · 6 months
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2 a.m.
Pairing: Modern AU!Feyre x f!reader
Summary: Modeling occasionally has its perks. A prequel to ‘Sunday Morning’.
Prompt: stay tonight?
     The grandfather clock in the hall on the other side of the door chimed twice. My eyelids flutter open, and I turn my head on the cushioned arm of the plum chaise positioned in the middle of Feyre’s home studio. I don’t know when I drifted off. Perhaps it was the ambiance created by the tall, ivory pillar candles burning around the room or, perhaps, the sweet cherry wine she’d offered me before we started. The cream sheet has drifted down my body, baring my breasts to the cold air, and I remind myself not to pull it back up. This is, after all, what I’m getting paid for.
     Careful to keep my hands exactly as they’re positioned, I turn my eyes to the woman seated at the easel across from me. How does she manage to still look so elegant at two in the morning? Her golden brown hair has been swept off of her neck into a clip, save the bangs that sweep across her forehead and a few stray pieces that artfully frame her elegant, aristocratic face. Her full lower lip is pulled between pearly white teeth, and she’s long since shed the loose, rust colored button down she greeted me in, leaving her in only leggings and a delicate, black camisole made of silk and lace that leaves nothing to the imagination. I take in all of the milky, freckled skin displayed by the dark slash of the plunging neckline, appreciating the beauty of her lithe, graceful figure…well, that’s what I tell myself I’m doing, anyway.
     Not just staring at her gorgeous, perky tits like I’m no better than a man.
     The glimmer of light on the silver chain around her neck draws my attention to the sizable diamond ring hanging from it. I’m not entirely sure what her husband does for work, we haven’t talked about him much during our session, but judging by the size of that ring, the man has more money than God. I glance back up at Feyre’s face to see the little pink tip of her tongue sticking out as she leans in to adjust something on her painting. Thankfully a window is open, allowing the cool autumn air to dilute the scent of turpentine. I stretch as much as I am able without disrupting my pose, groaning a little when something in the middle of my back pops unexpectedly, and the artist sits back on her stool with a satisfied smile. When she finally looks at me, her tired blue eyes are warm with joy, and I know this piece must be a good one.
     When she drops her brush in the paint water and finally glances at her phone, her lips form a surprised little ‘o’ that makes me want to kiss it off of her. To be fair, I always want to kiss her. It’s an inconvenient little fact I’ve been struggling more with since I moved from modeling for her class to doing it exclusively for her. It’s not a terrible problem to have, it certainly could be worse, but I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to do this before my impulsive thoughts get the better of me.
     “I’m so sorry,” she says, her face lit by the blue light of her phone as she glances over at me. “I didn’t mean to keep you so late.”
     “Two in the morning is hardly the latest I’ve been out,” I tell her as I tug the sheet up over my chest. Her twilight blue eyes flick to my breasts, lingering in a way that sends tendrils of warmth straight to my core. "I'll get dressed and see myself out-"
     "Oh no, surely you're not thinking you'll drive home tonight?" Feyre says, shaking her head. "I can't stand the thought of you on the road this late. Please stay tonight? We have so much space."
     "I don't want to impose-"
     "You could never! Here, don't worry about your clothes, the guest room is right next door. First one on the left, it's all yours. I'll see about finding you something to sleep in, I know we must have something that will work."
     "Are you sure?"
     "Absolutely," she says, her eyes drifting over my body once more before she rises from the stool on long, unsteady limbs and takes a moment to stretch with her back to me. Her leggings cling to her body like a second skin, showing off a perfect ass that must have been sculpted by hours of yoga.
     I guess I am no better than a man.
     But fuck, she's so beautiful it makes me want to die.
     I run a hand over my face to tame my wild, sleep-addled brain and wait until she's gone to shuffle to the guest room. It's spacious enough, with an empty closet and a full, private bath with a clawfoot tub and separate shower that puts my dingy shower stall at home to shame. I pluck the shower gel from the fully stocked shelf in the shower and get a whiff of something soft and inviting, like warm linen and clean skin.
     I just know this is on the shelf in the room of a hotel I'll never afford in a country I've probably never heard of. I put it back when I hear Feyre's footsteps on the stairs and waddle as quickly as I can in this sheet to sit awkwardly on the bed.
     Her silk robe is a whisper against the hardwood floor as she lets herself in hands me a large, worn college tee and black sweats that must be her husband's. There's a spicy, citrus scent clinging to them, the barest hint of cologne that reminds me of night-soaked sea air.
     "Rhys claims these are the most comfortable," she says with a shy smile as she hands me the clothes. "You don't work early in the morning, do you? He said he'd make us crepes for breakfast, and you have to try his crepes. They'll make you never want to leave."
     "Is that so?" I laugh, shaking my head as I allow the sheet to pool around my waist so I can slip the shirt on. It's big and soft and so comfortable I don't know if I'll actually give it back. "I wouldn't think you'd want to share them, then."
     "I normally don't." I glance back up to see her looking at me with a sweet sort of fondness in her eyes. Her fingers lightly brush against my neck as she pushes my hair back from my face. "But I'll make an exception for you. You did so well for me tonight, that painting is definitely going to be the star of my next show."
     "You think?"
     "I know." Feyre stands any my side a moment longer, seemingly wavering between thoughts, then quickly leans in and drops a light kiss on my forehead. "Sleep well, we'll see you in the morning."
     "Night," I mumble, brushing my fingertips against my flushed cheeks.
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sullyfortress · 1 year
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I’m not a hater whatsoever just thought the chemistry Jake and Neytiri had in first movie was kinda…. Not there? Also it only took 3 months for them to mutually decide to be life partners idk maybe I’m a cynic. Like for Neytiri especially I think there should’ve been WAAAAAY more turmoil about having feelings for a dude who’s race is like destroying (has destroyed) everything you’ve ever known.
I've been so ready for this discussion.
One, I agree with you that its a little interesting to look at the chemistry between the two in the first movie. To me, its because a lot of their connection and underlying relationship isn't necessarily about surface level 'romance.'
First off, Neytiri, and the Omaticaya up until meeting Jake, had only really dealt with scientists. Scientists who as Mo'at says, had already full cups.
These scientists already had preconceived notions about Pandora and how the planets life worked. It was therefore harder for them to connect spiritually with the Omaticaya, because anytime the Na'vi spoke, the science avatars would immediately translate and treat everything as data.
Also, for the sake of more research I imagine previous avatars were sickly sweet. They want to get in to do research of course, so they would exhibit alot of grace and hospitality. Which is smart, but I image for the Na'vi, they've been so use to the fake kindness that its fucken annoying. They'd have previous avatar claim they want peace meanwhile their home is being torn apart.
I think we've all experienced false kindness before - its more annoying that straight up rudness I swear - CONDESCENDING
Anyway, then Jake comes along, he's I think easier for Neytiri, and the Omaticaya to relate to, because he's a warrior and he doesn't know anyting. He doesn't show up mansplaining to them about how their world works. He understand the battle mindset.
Any militant aliens the Na'vi had met up until that point had been hostile, but Jake shows up ready to learn and submissive to the people.
I understand why they chose him because I think he was just such an interesting concept: A alien who's not there to poke and prod their lives for data, mansplain or shoot them. Just to learn.
Neytiri is a warrior at heart and also very spiritual. I think the sign from Ewya, coupled with the fact that she say how unique and also vulnerable Jake was, it drew her towards him.
As far as how she could forgive him and fall for a skyperson. I don't think its that simple. For one, if you look at some deleted scenes, we see more of Jake's turmoil about lying to the Na'vi, at one point he says that the Na'vi didn't have a word for lie before humans showed up, that we taught them the word.
I think the Na'vi are just far more trusting and forgiving than Humans, and also capable of seeing people as individuals.
Again, Jake showed up vulnerable - "like a baby" as Neytiri puts it. I think Jake has been isolated and alone in much of his life, moreso since losing the use of his legs. He just lost his brother and is basically winging life at this point, he's lost.
Note: I think Ewya's signs: Seeds of sacred tree and Toruk Makto GREATLY impacted Neytiri's draw to Jake. Which look at it anyway you want, Omaticaya are deeply spiritual and that guides them - so I think if you take their viewpoint, those signs around a single skyperson would help them see past some mistakes he's made. Also I have this suspicion that its the raw dumb-himbo/boldness of Jake that also makes Neytiri go..... damn. Like to become Toruk Makto you do put your life on the line - and this skyperson risked his life in such a profound way just to show how dedicated he was to her and to her people.
Neytiri, is a way I think is also lost. Her home is being invaded, her sister was killed before her eyes, and she was then betrothed to her sisters lover. (Tsu-tey was Sylwanin's love and they were suppose to lead the clan next). Which is part of the custom, but still - could not have been easy for her.
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As I see it, both of them bonded over loss, being warriors, and the desire to be more.
I don't know if that really justified the lack of chemistry in the first movie - but to me it was more of an innocent, learning to trust and to break from their own isolated 'shells' so to speak.
Before bonding to one another, they both were rather grumpy people - I think they free'd something in each other.
AS FOR THE 3 MONTHS: they spent every single moment together( apart from the like 5 hours a day jake was in human body). Plus war and trauma bonds people we know this. 😁
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purplemochi20055 · 1 month
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@the-ravenclaw-werewolf @omnitheist27
Emma and Ciel play chess together! Both enjoy it and find not only good company, but also a great challenge with one another in the board game! However, as they continue to play, Killia sneaks on them (with his assassin skills) and tops over Ciel’s king piece like the cat troll he is! (For those that don’t know knocking over your own king piece means that you quit the game). Ciel is shellshocked, as needs to process this action for the next 10 seconds before he proceeds yells at him. Don’t worry, Emma and Tohru will also later scold Killua for this, so it’s all good!
I looked it up and apparently the Grace Field house has “access to some old fashioned non-electronic toys to play with such as balls, dolls, stuffed animals, blocks, puzzles, wooden vehicles, playing cards, classic board games such as chess,” so I’d like to imagine that Emma herself had a good hand with the game and is a decent player herself, given how smart she is. I’m sure these kids will find enjoyment in one another, and I just wanted to draw them playing together while also finding a way to draw all 3 of our trio together! Anyway this took a while since I had to redo Ciel and Emma’s positions for sitting, as well as their face since I didn’t want their smiles to come off too creepy, but at cat faced Killua was fun to draw! Listen I know the hands are badly drawn, so I’ll make sure to keep improving so they look better!
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