#there’s much more i have in my notes about her but it’s all very jumbled and incoherent nd i was hoping doing this would organize some of it

[fleurriee]

— the one ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; neteyam was beginning to court you, much to your elation. each time he showed you how much you meant to him, you only fell more in love with him.

word count ; 10.3k (we don’t talk about it)

themes ; fluff, soon-to-be mates

warnings ; tooth-rotting fluff, vv brief mentions of worrying over someone’s well-being, uses of y/n.

author’s note ; i can’t tell if this got slightly worse as it neared the end but we’re just gonna leave it bc i do like it. i mean, who doesn’t like the idea of neteyam courting them??? also, this is my longest fic yet & it wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this long but i just got carried away bc i love neteyam so much. sue me. 

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For a short while now, yourself and Neteyam were in the courting process of your relationship.

It wasn’t too long ago when the male Na’vi asked your permission to do so, along with your parents’, and the thought always caused butterflies to roam in your stomach, no matter how much time passed in between. Neteyam was the perfect Na’vi - a mighty warrior, a caring gentleman, someone who knew how to properly lead, something that would one day aid him when he took over as Olo’eyktan. 

So, in short, you simply couldn’t believe your luck when he asked you.

You could argue that you saw it coming with the way he always sought you out in a crowd, the gentle smiles he sent in your direction, but you’d be lying to yourself. Having Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan choose you to be his mate was something you never would have imagined possible in your wildest dreams. Of course, it was something you did imagine - you were pretty sure every other Na’vi your age did, too - but to have it play out in front of your very eyes was a whole different experience.

His family were welcoming, too, letting you safe in their warm embrace and treating you like one of their own - because you would be, someday soon. Neteyam’s family and your own got on well which was a huge relief to the both of you, making his progress just slightly easier. 

His aforementioned progress in courting you was something that caused a blush to rise on your cheeks, filling you to the brim with elation. Each time you saw him, you were sure you were close to combusting; each time he spoke, you were sure your heart was close to melting. Everything about Neteyam was godly, otherworldly... how in Ewya had you managed to get him to choose you as a mate?

You were forced out of your jumbled, overthinking thoughts when Tuk let out a loud gasp. The young girl was situated in front of you, comfortably placed on top of your crossed legs, twiddling away at the carved wooden toys her eldest brother had gifted her a while ago. She had come to you earlier, asking you to braid her hair with some of the beads she had recently collected with her sister, Kiri. Of course, you couldn’t say no to her - you were sure Tuk could ask anything of you, no matter the circumstance, and you’d still say yes. It was those big eyes looking up at you, all pure and innocent of the dangers surrounding them with the war brewing nearby. You’d do anything to shield her away from that.

When Tuk gasped, for a split second, you thought you’d hurt her. Your eyes were frantic as you looked over her figure, but then another sound pierced through the atmosphere - a horn. Following Tuk’s line of sight, that’s when you spotted the group of ikran’s beginning to descend back into camp, chants from the warriors filling the air with their victory. 

That meant Neteyam was back, too.

Lightly brushing back Tuk’s hair, the braids practically finished, you patted her back to ensure her she was okay to run over to her returning family. She doesn’t even pay you any mind and you laugh at her reaction, watching as she screams out in exclamation, her feet rushing over to where you watch her parents descend. 

Standing up from the ground, you jump down from where you were seated, landing softly and jogging over, following after Tuk. The idea of seeing Neteyam again - even though it hadn’t been that long since you last saw one another - had you full to the brim with excitement. He was your future mate - it was practically your job to feel like this at the prospect of seeing him, even if you had only been away for a short period of time.

But, when your eyes finally land on who you were looking for, the smile drops from your face and replaces itself with worried features. Just a couple of steps away, you watch as Jake stands in front of his two sons, his back clearly showing off his agitation. You don’t hear what they’re saying, but you can tell it’s nothing good - both Neteyam and Lo’ak have their heads hung low, ashamed at the obvious lecture they were receiving from their father.

At the sight, you can’t help the way your heart aches for the two boys. Since Neteyam had started to court you, you had spent a lot of time with his family, meaning you got to know each of them pretty well, including Lo’ak. You got on with him great, despite your stark differences in personality, but you could tell everything he did was just to live up to the shadow of both his father and older brother. He just wanted to be like them.

And, Neteyam - he was always the protector, whether it was for his parents, his siblings, for you. If Lo’ak had done something reckless and dangerous, you knew Neteyam wouldn’t have been too far behind him, watching his every move and ensuring his younger brother’s safety. It was both a strength and a weakness of his.

Your eyes scrape over your future mate, checking every inch of his body until you spot a cut at his side that he’s trying to hide from everyone else’s view. It’s clear no one else has spotted it, or else you were sure they would’ve sent him straight to a healer to get it treated. Thankfully, the wound didn’t look too bad, but you could tell it was hurting him - from the signs of him fidgeting from foot to foot, keeping his hand pressed firmly against his side in a weak attempt to dull the pain, his eyes frantically searching about the place to find an opening of escape.

You know him too well.

That’s when your eyes meet, and if it wasn’t for the worry currently eating away at your very being, it would’ve felt as though the whole of Pandora stopped around you, just the two of you in a world of your own. That’s how it always felt around Neteyam, and knowing you had more of this to look forward to for the rest of your lives was enchanting.

In a bid to reassure your future mate, you send him over a soft smile, one full of care and admittance. A small nod of your head accompanied it, too, ensuring him that you would be there for him when he was finished with his father. You understand the weight bearing down upon his shoulders after the several times he would open himself up to you, and you’d be damned if you let him drown. No matter the circumstance, no matter the cost, you’d make it your life’s mission to pull him out when he started to struggle.

A tense smile in return is your only response, another subtle nod of his head with it, too, but you can see the way his body moves stiffly, as if afraid of more reprimand, as if hurting. His eyes held all the love and adoration he had for you like they always did, and seeing such a sight made you feel a little calmer about the situation.

Neither yourself nor Neteyam were conspicuous in your looks towards one another, it seemed, for Jake immediately noticed the way his eldest son’s attention was snagged somewhere else. He watched as Neteyam’s ears twitched a little, tail perking up from its once ashamed downturn, a smidge of light coming back to his eyes. It was obvious what the cause of such a demeanour was, and when he turned his head to look behind himself and found you, standing your weight from one foot to the another, fingers mindlessly playing together in a bid to calm your nerves and tail swishing in anticipation, he was proved correct. 

He sighed deeply, turning back around and talking to Neteyam, words being shared that you couldn’t hear, but as he gestured over to you, you stood straighter as you realised he was dismissing his son. The young Na’vi in question doesn’t move quickly, something you can decipher from his wounded side he continued to clutch away from any possible prying eyes, but he does move eagerly, wanting to get over to you as soon as he can.

Not even ten steps between the two of you, and your feet are moving of their own accord, hurrying closer to his figure. You reach your arms out to him, hands grasping against his arms with care to help steer him in the direction of a healing tent. Your eyes wonder seamlessly back down to his wound, looking over every inch of it to ensure it’s not entirely life-threatening. In conclusion that it isn’t, a small breath of relief escapes your lips, shaking your head - still, it looks painful.

Looking back up at him, your eyes filter from one of his to the other in a bid to garner his full attention whilst the two of you continue walking. “Are you okay?” you question, your voice coming out breathy. 

“It is fine.” His words are short and sharp, and if it wasn’t for the piercing wound aching at his side, you’d assume he was mad at you. But, that obviously wasn’t the case - Neteyam rarely got angry, and if he did, he swore it’d never be at you.

You scoff before you can decipher your own response, eyes trailing back down. “It doesn’t look fine.” When he doesn’t say anything in return, you look back up at him, finding his gaze already trained on you, a small, graceful smile painting at his lips. It makes your heart flutter, knowing that such a rare beauty is entirely for you. Trying to bite back the reciprocating smile desperate to show itself, you shake your head at your future mate and his antics, wanting to stay annoyed at him for once again throwing himself in harm’s way for the sake of others. But, when he looks at you like that, you find it difficult to do anything.

The healing tent you had intended to take him into finally appeared in front of you, sounds of chatter and winces coming through to your ears from inside. You weren’t a fan of such places due to the pain and misery it brought the people of your clan, but as the mate of the future Olo’eyktan, you knew you’d eventually have to suck it up and put on a brave face for those around you. You’d be spending more time in there than you’d like to admit.

Bringing your arm up and leaving the other one clasped tightly around Neteyam’s bicep, you go move the tent flap away, but another beats you to it. Despite the obvious pain he’s in, Neteyam reaches out, opening the entrance up for you and gestures you in. You stop in your tracks, looking over at him pointedly, but he doesn’t acknowledge the way your eyes reprimand him - even when in agony, he’s still adamant to be a good future mate in courtship.

You sigh, almost a little agitated that he still felt the need to prove himself to you, even when your heart beats rapidly in your chest at such a domestic gesture, the determination of Neteyam Sully peaking through his pained actions. As you step inside, you feel him grab a hold of your hand from behind you, his warm and callous skin juxtaposing against one another, but have you shivering in affection all the same. He allows you to guide him through the tent, weaving around those moving hurriedly to others sitting and waiting for their treatment, before you finally find a somewhat-secluded area towards the back.

With his hand still firmly in your grip, you turn to him, moving your other one around his bicep again and begin helping the both of you steadily to the ground, each of you guiding the other with delicacy. You didn’t want Neteyam to be in more pain than he already was, and Neteyam always treated you like you were fragile glass - something that didn’t bother you, although you have had others say it would bother them, but you paid no mind to them.

Once the two of you were as comfortable as you could be in a tent crowded with other injured people, sat cross-legged and facing one another, you gently pried his hand that had continued to cover the wound in his side. You were slow with your movements, sending him a look of reassurance that you would be tender. He winced slightly when the cool breeze smacked so suddenly against the now-rough skin, his head hanging low and shaking from side to side to tell himself that the pain was nothing. Neteyam never did like to come across as weak - especially in front of you.

You can’t help the way your eyes narrow up at him, a frown on your lips. “I wish you were more careful...” your voice is barely a whisper, not wanting anyone else to hear in on your conversation. With thoughtful touches, you begin to clean away at the wound, wanting to make sure the blood is washed away and nothing made its way in that could make it worse. 

“I am always careful.” There’s another wince, another strain when he speaks, the sensation of your fingers against his skin both sending delightful shivers down his spine and causing his tail to stand on end from the pain.

Stopping in your movement, you sit up in front of him, watching as he slowly lifts his head once he realises you’ve paused. “This,” you say, pointing directly to his wound, “says otherwise.”

Neteyam doesn’t say anything as you immediately go back to your previous work of cleaning him, knowing that whatever he says will only be argued with a firm answer you no doubt have ready to fire at him. He understands you, though, because if the situation was switched and you were in his position, he knows his head wouldn’t be in the right frame of mind, either. Neteyam would be imagining different scenarios where you’d ended up worse, more injured, or even... If he didn’t like to think about it, he couldn’t imagine the feeling of going through it, and you did, every time he went out with the war party. You didn’t know what condition he was going to be coming back to you in... you didn’t know if he was going to be coming back.

Neteyam understood.

So, rather than biting back, the Na’vi instead smiled down at your working figure, pure love shining bright in his eyes as he watched your concentration prevail through your hurried movements, your gentle fingers, your narrowed eyes. Everything about you was so beautiful to Neteyam, even when you were surrounded in a crowded room by others who didn’t deserve to witness such a sight. He couldn’t believe his luck of getting to call you his own.

While you work, moving one of your hands back in the direction of his wound, you feel it get snatched away. You look up at Neteyam, about to tell him off for not letting you work, when you watch him place a firm, tender kiss against your knuckles, his eyes never once leaving your own. 

You can feel yourself blush profusely at his actions, tilting your head to the side subconsciously as he only smirks at your reaction - he always knew the best ways to get you right in the palm of his hands. Instead of previously wanting to reprimand him, your words are but a murmur when you speak, eyes continuously flickering from his eyes to somewhere behind him in order to distract yourself. “I’m trying to concentrate, ‘teyam.”

His heart is full, ready to burst, when he hears your nickname for him, something he loves from only a select few people, with you being right at the top. Keeping your hand in his own, his thumb beginning to run smoothly where he kissed you against your knuckles, he chuckles at your attempt to stay focused. “I know,” he nods lightly, eyes bright and fangs pointed in bliss. “That’s why I kissed you - you look adorable when you concentrate.” 

As soon as the words left his lips, your head sharply snapped back over to him, irises blown wide, ears high upon your head and tail curling in on itself from the compliment. No matter how many times he’d talk to you in such a way, or did certain things that made you feel all mushy inside, it’d always gain the same reaction from you. And, he loved it. 

You plaster on a playfully annoyed expression, trying to fight the smile dancing at your lips. Chuckling, you shake your head. “Do you want me to help you, or not?”

He laughs, breathless, tongue flicking out and running along his fangs as his eyes make a point of looking over every inch of your figure. It makes you cower in on yourself, and this time, you allow your lips to curve at the edges. Neteyam doesn’t say anything in return, just shrugs mindlessly like he hadn’t been internally torturing you beforehand, letting you get back on with healing your future mate. 

Not once does he move his gaze away from such a beautiful sight.

Your hands moved in a hurried motion, eagerness and anticipation beginning to eat away at you. You moved from one side of your tent to the other, the empty space allowing you to rush around without having to worry about bumping into or getting on your parent’s nerves. The both of them would be out all day - your mother spending the day with the younger Na’vi in your clan, and your father helping out with training the soon-to-be warriors. 

With the day ahead seeming so empty, you had decided to take it upon yourself to go out into the vast forests of Pandora and collect some fruit for your family. Foraging was something you always enjoyed, ever since your mother took you out for the first time. There was something about just carelessly exploring the lush greenery whilst stumbling upon something new - it brought you happiness and peacefulness. 

Of course, you couldn’t go out there unprotected, making sure to stop by your mat where you kept your bow and arrows and tying them around yourself. Going out into the forest alone wasn’t uncommon, but it was something the clan didn’t like to do often. However, you did - just for the tranquillity of being alone for a little while when you were constantly surrounded by the hustle and bustle of so many people at once. You knew there was always going to be a chance of you running into something dangerous whilst you were out there, so, to calm the nerves of your friends and family after finding out about your little lonesome adventures, you assured them you’d always take a weapon with you.

Sighing, you stood tall, looking around your tent then to your body, making sure you were definitely prepared before setting off for the day. You looped your mother’s empty basket through one arm, hoping to be full to the brim with an array of fruits by the time you returned in a few hours, your bow was tucked over your neck and hanging against your shoulders, and your arrows were placed firmly upon your back, ready for their use. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to resort to using them.

With a nod of your head, you turn around, beginning to walk out the entrance of your tent. You kept your eyes trained to the floor, hanging your head low so as not to bump it against anything and have an embarrassing story to talk about later on, when you ended up bumping your entire body into something anyway.

You gasped in surprise at the sudden sensation, the solid material in front of you hitting against you fairly harshly. Stumbling on your feet, you were sure you would’ve fallen down like a sack, but your saving grace came in the form of two hands, gentle yet rough in texture, catching onto your upper arms, wrapping their fingers against your biceps. 

Looking up, you spotted Neteyam. The morning sun hit against his back, painting him in an ethereal glow, and you swore you had never seen anything so glorious in all your life on Pandora. He had a cheeky smile on his lips, eyes roving over your features, his hands still holding tightly onto you - he knew you were steady on your feet now, but he simply didn’t want to let you go.

When you made eye contact with Neteyam, you were so entranced, you couldn’t look away. The way his eyes caught against the light began to suck you in until you were his entirely, no one and nothing else mattered in the world because Neteyam was right here, looking at you. The close proximity between the two of you made the heat rise against your cheeks, painting you in a darker blue, but your eyes never strayed from his. How could you, when he looked like this? You could feel his breath fan against your face, the feeling sending shivers to your skin.

“Hi,” he said, voice low and teasing, that stupid smile never once leaving his lips as he looked down at you like you were some sort of prey and he the predator. 

“Hi,” you whispered, voice sultry and soft, struggling to find the correct words to say to him due to your stuttering heart and how close you were, feeling every slight move he made against your own body. “What are you doing here?” You were happy to see him, but confused by his presence - you knew he had training with his father early that morning (part of the reason why you decided to go out), and if he was here with you now, you were sure he was going to end up being late, something Neteyam did once in a blue moon. 

He shrugged carelessly, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I wanted to say good morning.”

You look up at him expectantly, waiting, but when he only continued to look at you adoringly, you narrow your eyes in confusion. “Are you going to say it...?” Your words are still a whisper, but this time, there’s a teasing lilt to them as you watch his smile grow wider when he realises his mistake.

Neteyam began to laugh at your sudden cheekiness, something you didn’t do often but he absolutely cherished, silently wishing to himself that you did it more. Maybe he’d just have to do things like this a little more. “Good morning, yawne (beloved).” As he spoke, he leant down towards you, giving your cheek a feather-light kiss, you had to run the sensation over in your mind again. When he pulled back, you couldn’t hold his eye contact, too flustered to look up at him, knowing that if you did, your cheeks would only continue to darken from their original colour. Neteyam found it endearing, smile so bright his fangs were pointing out, before eventually spotting your attire. “Going hunting?”

“Foraging,” you corrected him, lifting the basket higher on your arms to accentuate your point. Your heart finally finds the confidence to look up into his intense gaze, swelling with both care and devotion. “I need to get some more fruits.”

At your admittance, Neteyam’s entire demeanour lights up at an opportunity beginning to present itself right in front of his very eyes - his ears stand high upon his head, eyes shining and tail elevated, anticipation peeking through his system. “I can get them for you if you want.”

You swoon at his eagerness to help you, the domestic part of Neteyam showing itself off to you. If it were any other time, you would’ve gladly took him up on the offer, loving the idea of spending more time with him despite truly believing your heart would explode if he continued to look at you like you were Ewya herself. But, you knew Neteyam was important to your clan, even before he was to become Olo’eyktan - you couldn’t keep him from his duties, from his purpose. 

(Neteyam would strongly argue that you were his purpose.)

“‘Teyam,” you start gently, hate having to turn him down when his features slowly start to fall. A sympathetic smile lingers against your lips, head tilted to the side but your eyes spoke more than your words could convey. “You have training with your father...” you find your eyes trailing your surroundings at your reminder, instantly spotting Jake in the near distance behind your future mate. He stands tall, proud, but you can tell he’s only moments away from calling his son out as he eyes him up, impatient. “...who is right over there and definitely does not want you to be late.” 

In an instant, Neteyam’s head shoots around to follow your gaze, a grumble slipping past his parted lips when he spots his father. Like a child, he hangs his head low in defeat, allowing it to fall against your shoulder when he turns back around. He lets his weight bear down on you teasingly, chuckling through his chest at your struggled attempts to stay steady on your feet. 

You pat his chest in mock sympathy, giggling to yourself as he only continues to be his dramatic self, head nestling closer into the space between your shoulder and neck. But, when he begins to press kisses against your skin, you tense up, feeling your spine straighten out and eyes look around for anyone watching. 

His father continues to glower at his eldest son, hands on his hips and shaking his head, obviously disgruntled. “Neteyam,” you warn, patting his chest again, a little harsher this time, more so in warning. Neteyam doesn’t seem to care, however, only continuing on his journey as he travels his lips from your shoulder to the crevasse of your neck. “’Teyam, your father-”

“Neteyam!” Jake’s voice is loud and clear, piercing through the clan until it makes its way to the two of you. In an instant, Neteyam jumps up and detaches himself from your shoulder. You look over his broad shoulder, seeing his father beginning to storm his way over. A harsh, fast-paced kiss is placed roughly against the side of your face, before you watch Neteyam run sheepishly over to his father, not wanting him to make a big scene. When your future mate arrives at his father’s side, the older Na’vi grabs his son against the back of the neck, forcefully pulling him further away from you before the guides of Ewya could will him back to you.

You can’t help but chuckle at their antics - the more time you spent with the Sully family, the more excited you felt at the prospect of finally being a part of them. Of course, they’d argue that you were already an honorary Sully, just from being betrothed to one of them, but you knew it’d be entirely different when you finally mated with Neteyam. 

Shaking your head, you noticed a few stares sent your way from the scene Neteyam had previously created before leaving you to deal with it. The only response you could give them without wanting the ground to swallow you whole was a sheepish smile, before securing your basket tight against your chest and running off into the forest.

The rest of the day went by quicker than you had imagined - you were simply so emerged in the beauty of the forest around you that time seemed infinite, like it was laying in the palm of your hands for you to do whatever you pleased with it. And, you did - you spent majority of your time marvelling at the pure life around you, the way everything seemed to pulse like it had its own heartbeat, and you liked to imagine that it did. After all, this was all apart of Ewya, too.

You had managed to collect a good amount of fruits, filling your basket almost to the top with a variety of tastes and colours to show off to your parents. Walking back into the clan, your chest swelled with pride at the few gratifying looks you were receiving from your collection, but you were also feeling proud of yourself for not having to use your weapon, either. Whether it was just your good intuition, or Ewya herself guiding you in a direction to ensure your safety, you steered clear of any potential threats that could’ve been lurking around the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Either way, you were grateful you never ran into anything.

Arguably, you were a good hunter, someone who could hold their own if they needed to, but you weren’t entirely confident in your skills enough to fight off something bigger than you if its intentions were to kill you. You’d never had to fight against such a creature, thanks to adventuring out with others that knew what they were doing, or going to specific places you knew would be okay for you. Plus, there was something about killing the creatures of Pandora that didn’t sit right with you - after all, they were also children of Ewya. Of course, you understood the clan had to eat in order to survive, and if you were being attacked, no Na’vi would judge another if they needed to defend themselves or their family. That’s why you were always the one to volunteer to collect the fruits out of your family, enjoying that particular experience more. It also helped that you received offer’s from Neteyam’s family - and Neteyam, especially - to share the meat they had hunted. You could turn down the meats his family offered you, arguing that it was for them, but you couldn’t disagree with Neteyam - what’s mine is yours.

Nodding to another Na’vi who had done the same to you in a small gesture of congratulations, your cheeks hurting from the prideful smile against your lips, you hadn’t spotted the figure rushing to jog over to your moving figure until they stop at your side. You already know it’s Neteyam - not from the sight of him, but from the presence of him. His scent infiltrates your scenes immediately and his aura oozes itself around you, enshrouding you in a protective layer. 

How your knees haven’t buckled out from swooning will always be beyond you.

No words are able to leave your mouth before Neteyam takes the basket from your hands, relieving your lower back from the pressure it was previously feeling with the weight of the fruits. He holds it firmly in his grasp, matching your pace as he walks beside you, taking note of the amount you collected before his gaze lands on you. “How was it?” 

You don’t bother arguing against his wishes of holding the basket for you, knowing it would only be a losing battle if you tried. Instead, you allowed your heart to flutter wildly in your chest as it begged for release, wanting to cover Neteyam in all the love it had to offer. Your head tilts in affection as your features coo. “It was good - I managed to get quite a bit.”

He hums in acknowledgement, eyes hurriedly scanning over your figure from top to bottom. His gaze makes you feel warm, but you know he’s checking you over for any potential injuries. “You didn’t run into any trouble?”

“Nope,” you state proudly, beaming like a child would with a new accomplishment. “I’m too good at sneaking.”

A laugh tumbles from his stomach at your answer, embellishing in the way you proudly stand and tell him of your day’s achievements. This is what he’s always wanted - the two of you, talking about your day and everything in between, before finally coming back together to rest for the night. 

All he’s ever wanted was you.

With only one of his hands now holding onto your full basket, he brings his other up to grab hold of your arm, stopping you in your tracks. When you turn to face him, your smile slowly begins to fall from your lips at the seriousness in his gaze. Only when he cups your face in his larger palm do you soften, features lighting up once more. “You did well, my muntxa (mate).”

The nickname makes you bite your lips to stop you giving away your true feelings, but you know Neteyam, and you know he knows you inside and out, like you were his other half - because you were. Snuggling your face further into his palm, you stand higher on your toes, wanting to bring him closer despite the rapid beating of your heart. “Not yet...” you remind him.

He hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything more. Rather, he presses a light kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering there for a while longer, like he didn’t want to part from you in such an intimate way. As he stays there, his lips ghosting over your skin, he whispers an almost-inaudible soon. The implication makes you shudder in delight, feeling him separate away from you, now intertwining his hand in your own and gesturing his head for you to follow him. 

Soon.

Tonight was a normal night within the clan, although it somehow seemed more alive.

Every night, the people of the Omatikaya would come together to celebrate the day’s achievements, even if nothing too celebratory had happened. It brought a semblance of togetherness that you couldn’t get anywhere else - one you wouldn’t trade for the world. 

You could hear the hustle and bustle of many Na’vi even from the tent furthest away from the main area, your body filling with brimming excitement already at the prospect of everyone being there. You weren’t a huge fan of crowds, but growing older had taught you to appreciate such a feeling - these people were your family, after all, and with such an impending war knocking upon your doorstep too often than you were comfortable with, you learned to enjoy what you have already, before it was too late.

Training with the Tsahik had increased tenfold in the last couple of months - you were working from sunrise until sunset alongside Mo’at and Kiri, aiding them in their tasks and ensuring you were close to knowing everything off by heart. Eventually, you would be taking over, with Neteyam at your side as Olo’eyktan. It wasn’t long until the two of you would finally be mated before Ewya, and whilst it would still be a while until you stepped forward as leaders, there would always be more preparing to do. As a mated pair, the clan would slowly start looking to the two of you.

With such a pressure lingering upon your shoulders, you began to make your way through the main crowd, leaving behind your duties in their wake and allowing yourself a moment to breathe. There were Na’vi everywhere, no matter what direction your gaze trailed to; smiles adorning each face, tails high in elation and chatter loud in excitement. There was a large woven table to the side that held the hunting party’s food they had caught during that morning’s hunt, piles high of fruits and meats that had your stomach growling in anticipation. You hadn’t had time to eat much when training, your mind too focused on remembering every little detail shown before you.

But, you couldn’t help your own smile beginning to dawn upon your lips as you attempted to make your way past people at the sight of their happiness. For a moment, it almost felt like there wasn’t a raging war so close to home, ready to kill you all just to say they had won. 

You shook your head at such a thought, willing it away from your head and forcing yourself to enjoy the moment before you. There were several people you accidentally bumped into on the way past, your mind foggy as it searched for someone, but no one was too bothered, too caught up in the blissful atmosphere lingering within the air. 

Eyes trailing over every figure you came across, you struggled to spot a single Sully. You stepped higher onto the ends of your toes, head poking out over the tops of other’s heads in an attempt to locate them, but you kept coming up short. It was obvious they would be here, of course - they were the Sully family, the leaders of your clan, and if they didn’t make an appearance at just a regular gathering such at this one, you knew they’d be more panic around you.

Thankfully, before you could be swallowed by the crowd and lost to the world around you, a hand clasped itself securely within your own, fingers intertwining together. The feeling of his hand against yours caused your brain waves to kilter off edge, the rough but warm sensation of his palm meeting your own so similar to home. 

When you look up at him, Neteyam’s happiness is evident upon his features, grin broad and so unbelievably handsome-looking. Before you can get too caught up in him, him, him, he nods his head in the direction behind him, where you guess his family had set themselves up. He doesn’t take his hand away from your own, keeping a strong grip against you to ensure he doesn’t lose you, leading you through the crowd until you come up to his family.

They’re all already seated comfortably together, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk already eating away to their heart’s desires whilst Jake prepares the food for himself and his mate. Upon seeing your breathless figure, they greet you with smiles and nods in your direction, never surprised to see you with Neteyam anymore as they used to be. The bond between the two of you was only growing stronger as the days tilted by, the time dwindling down before you were mated and you truly became a Sully. His family were your family.

Neteyam’s arm is almost forcefully ripped away from your own when a much smaller body crashes into you. Tuk, in all her pure and giddy glory, has her arms wrapped strongly around the tops of your legs, her height not allowing her to go any higher. Her chin rests against your legs, looking up at you with her deer-like eyes and the biggest smile you have ever seen. The sight has you melting. 

“Hi, Tuk,” you greet her softly, bringing your hand up to gently caress the top of her head. She giggles at the sensation, lightly hopping up and down on her feet. Whilst you were definitely close with Neteyam’s family - more so Kiri, than anyone else, due to the amount of time you spend together - Tuk would always be your favourite. You looked to her like she was your little sister, and you hoped that one day she’d look at you like her older one. The idea of having someone as adorable as Tuk look up to you, feeling comfortable enough to come to you should she ever need to, was heart-warming. 

“Tuk!” Neytiri called, her tone harsh but understanding as she beckoned her youngest child back over to her, watching her bound away from you and back into her mother’s arms.  

You laugh quietly to yourself at the sight, finally making your way to the free seat next to Neteyam. When your comfortable enough, you go to reach over for the contents already splayed out before you, but a soft slap against the back of your hand has you recoiling away. Next to you, Neteyam reaches for everything you’d need, already beginning to do it for you.

He doesn’t look at you, although you know he can feel your gaze zoning in on his every movement - he’s too busy concentrating on making sure everything’s perfect for you, even if you are going to devour it just moments after receiving it. Your heart flutters like a swarming butterfly and you’re positive your cheeks are starting to redden as they blush. You don’t say anything to him, knowing it’s an argument you won’t be able to win - instead, you continue to watch with hearts evident within your eyes, a faint, loving smile present on your lips.  

It’s then you remember you’re not completely alone, too caught up in Neteyam. When you look up at the family surrounding you, you instantly spot his parents’ gazes already trained on the two of you - Neytiri’s expression is fond, whilst Jake’s is most definitely teasing.

Whether he can begin to sense your slight unease at being caught, you’re not sure, but Jake decides to speak up, hands moving subconsciously as he now starts to prepare his own food after giving the finished one to his mate. “So, y/n,” he starts, “how is Tsahik training going?”

You briefly look back over to Neteyam next to you, biting back a smile as you allow him to continue his work - his eyes are narrowed in on making everything flawless, making sure it’s exactly how you’d like it. Turning back to Jake, you offer him a nod, breathing out. “It is good - there are a few things I’m still struggling with, but the Tsahik believes I just need to continue with my training before I am able to do it with my eyes closed.”

Shrugging at the end of your admittance, you let out a sheepish laugh, almost a little embarrassed. Tsahik training is hard - no one ever said it was going to be easy, especially when you would be guiding the clan spiritually through Ewya, helping them heal and celebrate important ceremonies. But, you know you don’t have anything to be embarrassed by for several reasons - Neytiri understands from her brief time of training alongside her mother before mating with Jake, but this is also Neteyam’s family, your family, who have never once stopped to judge you for a single thing. In fact, you’re sure they’ve only ever supported you through the things you do, because now you’re as much they’re daughter as Kiri and Tuk.

“You will be an amazing Tsahik, y/n.” Neytiri speaks up, clearly noticing your hidden embarrassment and wanting to ease your worries. Tuk is still in her lap, happily chomping away at her food as her mother braids her hair. Her smile is doting, motherly. “The clan already loves you.”

The compliment from your mother-in-law only causes more embarrassment to flood through you, feeling yourself slowly begin to curl in on yourself. The love you were receiving not only from the family, but also from the rest of the clan, helped ease your tensions, but you never really took to taking such praise well. You appreciated it like any other Na’vi did, but sometimes you struggled to show a natural reaction, becoming slightly uncomfortable. That was something you would have to work on - the Tsahik couldn’t be embarrassed.

Your tail had previously nestled itself against your side when Neytiri complimented you, shying away from the attention, but it began to perk up suddenly when Neteyam lay a kind hand against your shoulder. His thumb was absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles against your skin - you didn’t know whether it was in his natural persona to do so, subconscious taking over, or whether he took notice of your change in demeanour, but either way, it calmed you. 

Looking at his other hand, you can see your prepared food, wrapped neatly together and gesturing for you to take it. With a grateful smile sent his way, you do so, speaking softly. “Thank you, ‘teyam.”

His grin is wide as he looks down at you. “You do not need to thank me, narlor (beautiful).” Heat passes over your cheeks when he calls you beautiful, the sincerity behind his eyes showing you how much he means it. You try your best to focus on your food when his attention doesn’t waver away from you, the warmth of his gaze piercing into your skin and making your entire being feel all tingly. Despite taking note of your attempt to shutter yourself away from him, taking a bite of the food and savouring every mouth-watering flavour it has to offer you, Neteyam is relentless - the same hand that was formerly rubbing against the top of your shoulder now snakes around the back of your neck, bringing you further into his side and pressing a tender kiss against the side of your temple. His lips linger hotly against your skin when he pulls away. “I would hunt down the most ravishing creatures and prepare the most delicious meals just for you, muntxate (wife).”

For a moment, you know nothing else but him - the way his eyes bore into yours completely, unseeing of anything else going on around you; the way his breaths steady with each one, like you bring a sense of calmness to his very being; the way his hand doesn’t move from its place against you, like doing so would cause him extreme pain. You’re sure you can feel your heart soar to the sky when he calls you his muntxate (wife), never wanting to hear him call you anything else ever again. You’ve been down the road before - Neteyam has been calling you his mate boldly as of late - but hearing him call you his wife, such domesticity has you feeling completely brand new, like you could conquer the world, face the most dangerous beast and win, just to come home and see him smiling at you like you hung the stars in the night sky. 

You’re scared it’s obvious that your tears are beginning to show against the line of your eyes, a nervous but oh-so adoring chuckle escaping your parted lips. Neteyam brings you foreheads together, the heat of his skin sending waves of the temperature into your own, his hand still clasped firmly against the back of your neck, and you notice his eyes never once falter from their stare into your own. There’s so much love, so much devotion and worship in his gaze, you can’t believe for just one brief moment in your past, you had thought Neteyam wouldn’t want you to call his own. It’s clear to you now that he’s only ever saw you.

So suddenly you’re brought out of your reverie when you hear a gagging sound coming from the direction of your other side. Reluctantly pulling away from Neteyam, you spot Lo’ak pretending to throw up the contents of his meal, no doubt having seen the intimate moment between his older brother and yourself. In any other instance, the embarrassment would be clawing away at you - and, you won’t deny the little semblance of it still making its way to the forefront - but the endearment you held for Neteyam in that moment, when you truly saw how much you meant to one another, overrides anything else. You laugh at your younger brother figure, looking up at Neteyam with nothing but comfort and passion in your eyes, watching as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head at such dramatics. But, he doesn’t pull away - no, he keeps you closer.

Another sound is brought forward to your senses - this time it’s Neytiri, smacking the back of her youngest son’s head, her words a hushed scolding. You faintly hear her tell him that someday soon, that will be him and his own mate, but the voices drown out when your attention is pulled back to Neteyam. He’s not looking at you this time, rather he’s laughing at his brother’s grumbling of having to put up being like Neteyam, and as your eyes drown in everything he has to offer, you realise the whole world had started to disappear, until all you see is him.

After a long day spent with the younger Na’vi within your clan, you’re finally finding the time to slip away and relax. Your time had been filled up with helping teach the children different aspects that Pandora had to offer before they go their separate ways and start heavily training on what they wish to do in order to provide for the clan - whether that be foraging, hunting, healer, weaving... You and a few others had taken the children out into the forests, showing them the plants, the fauna, the creatures, the life that constantly emanated around them. 

This was arguably one of your most favourite things to do - teaching the children the way of Ewya was such a beautiful experience when you got to witness their eyes light up in awe, fascination cleaving at each and every one of them, wanting to know more, to explore more. Spending time with them made your heart grow fonder, the images conjuring in your mind of the day that yourself and Neteyam get to do such things with your own children. You’re still unsure as to how many you’d like, but you know that Neteyam would be the best father, without a shadow of a doubt.

Such thoughts stay lingering within the corners of your mind, unrelenting in their leave and it has the corners of your lips turning up in a subtle smirk. The walk from the tent you had just visited after dropping off the last child wasn’t such a distance from your own, and you couldn’t stop the sigh of relief breathing through you when you spotted it. Already, you were picturing yourself laying down in the comfort of your mat, eyes closed as the worries slowly start to slip away, your dreamland beginning to take to the forefront of you mind. 

Lately, your dreams had only been filled with Neteyam, and you wondered what else they’d have you thinking about that night. The time of your bonding with Neteyam was just around the corner now, on the precipice to being the next chapter in your life, and both nervousness and excitement filled your entire being. You wanted it to be special, you wanted to be everything Neteyam ever wanted in a mate, and that’s where your nerves started. But, the moment you thought of them, they were shut down by your excitement - you knew Neteyam, and with the way he had been treating you all this time was only further evidence to how much he cared about you. You truly didn’t have anything to worry about.

“Y/n!” Your name pierces through the clan, senses heightened when you recognise the voice, such a sound being the cause of your craned eyes and elevated tail, like they had a life of their own and were looking forward to seeing him, too. You stop in front of your tent, watching as Neteyam slowly jogs his way over to you, his hands hidden behind his back.

“Hi, ‘teyam,” you greet him, an affectionate smile playing against your lips.

He sends you one back, but this one falters a little towards the end, like he’s unsure of yourself. It has you feeling nervous again, but this time, the nerves are understandable - he’s beginning to fidget from foot to foot, nodding to himself as though he’s telling himself everything’s going to be okay. “Hey,” he replies, voice low and quiet, so unlike the Neteyam you’re used to. One of his hands points towards your tent behind you, still keeping the other one hidden away from your prying eyes. “Can we talk inside for a moment?”

Such words only make you feel worse, so many jumbled thoughts and suspicions bouncing from one side of your intrigued mind to the next, concocting different possible outcomes of what could be the source of his anxiety. You repeatedly tell yourself that it can’t be anything too damaging - after everything the two of you have been through together, even before finding out you were to be mated, it’s practically impossible to pull you apart, now. Without yet being mated, you know the two of you are bonded for life, and nothing can ever come in between that. Still, a small part of yourself feeds off his apprehension and you can’t help but wonder if going inside your tent with him will change the course of your life as you know it.

With a tense smile, trying your best to muster up the courage and pretend that he’s not worrying you, you nod, moving towards the entrance. Neteyam’s quick with his movements - instantly, the flap is pulled open for you, his hands holding back the fabric and allowing you to usher yourself inside. That’s a good sign, you tell yourself - if he’s treating you like this still, whatever he wants to talk about can’t be too bad, right? Unless he’s being a gentleman so the idea of tearing you down doesn’t seem as harsh.

You walk over to your mat, placing yourself down in a hurry, looking up at Neteyam and gesturing for him to do the same. He does so, and his body movements of sitting down opposite you are stiff, too. You notice his hand still firmly placed behind his back. Suddenly, the air feels uncomfortable, too much to bare as it continues to envelop you more, his worry stifling every one of your senses. Sucking in a breath, you let out a nervous laugh, hoping to ease the tension, wanting to get it over with in the chance it’s something bad. “’Teyam, you’re worrying me.”

As soon as you speak, he’s on alert - his head shoots up to you, finally able to properly look at you directly, his pupils blown wide. Tension steadily starts to dissipate from his figure, a brittle chuckle parting from his lips as he shakes his head slightly. “I’m sorry, I do not mean to worry you, it’s just...” he pauses, takes a big breath like he’s preparing himself for something monumental and steadies himself. “I made something for you.”

The strain of believing Neteyam was going to be telling you bad news disperses and it’s like it was never there in the first place. You feel your ears wiggle as they come to understand exactly what he said, your tail swaying back and forth in anticipation. “For me?”

He breathes out a soft laugh, eyes lighting up at how adorable you look to him. “Of course, am I courting someone else?”

It’s like the nervous Neteyam has completely disappeared, and finally you’re looking at the one you know and love - the Neteyam that is brave, and proud; the Neteyam that enjoys teasing you just to get a shy reaction out you; the Neteyam that can’t help but be sarcastic despite being a nervous wreck just moments beforehand. You hate the way he teases you, and yet you love it at the same time. You shake your head at his sarcasm, in slight disbelief at how he had managed to change his demeanour in the matter of a split second, a velvet-like giggle breaking out before you have the chance to force it back in. Now, he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

Slowly, with both precision and care, he moves his hand from behind his back, palm outstretched and showing off what he has to offer you. Your eyes land on a beautifully woven necklace, all different colours, shapes and sizes of beads and feathers and small intricacies tied all into place to make it perfect. It’s completely caught your attention, and you can’t seem to train your focus away from it. Subconsciously, your hand covers your mouth, smile wide and tears beginning to brim along your waterline. “Oh, ‘teyam. It’s beautiful.”

He brings himself closer to you, body shifting over until you’re now sat side by side, legs touching. He holds the necklace delicately in his hand still, bringing it further into the light to show it off, to show you how it looks in its true element. A beam plays at his lips now that he’s finally at ease, seeing the way you look so adoringly upon the object, so intense and ethereal it surely can’t be real. 

With a slight shake to his hand, he points to one of the beads, a watercolour blue that glistens when it shines perfectly against the light. “This bead is to represent when we first met - when you tripped and fell into the water.”

The memory comes back to you so quickly, it felt as though it happened just yesterday. You had been stood by the water, so close your toes were tipping in to the cool liquid, watching the fish as they swam in their habitat, blissfully happy and fascination clear on your features. Neteyam had unintentionally snuck up on you, scaring the life out of you as you fell into the water in surprise. Instantly, Neteyam felt bad, helping you out of the water and making sure you were fine, but as time went on, Neteyam loved to casually bring it up in conversation, if only to tease you.

You playfully smacked his arm, features recoiling before gasping out at his remark. “I did not trip - you scared me!”

He laughs, eyes imploring straight into yours, and you can see the hearts filled lovingly within them. Shaking his head, he bites back his smile, moving onto the next one, this one a darker brown, almost rusty in colour with different edges of tones. “This one is to represent the time when I started to help you with your bow.” As another memory filters through your mind’s eye, of two younger looking Na’vi practicing in the midst of the forest on how to correctly aim, you start to realise that this necklace your future mate had made for you is personal. He didn’t choose these specific ornaments just based on their beautiful colours or their variety of textures... he’d chosen them to portray each pleasing moment you had spent together, right from the very beginning. Your attention doesn’t falter, eyes trailing slowly from the necklace up to him, watching as he continues to talk through each one; so in his element, so in love. “This is a feather I found that looks similar to the colour of your ikran, and this one is supposed to represent when I asked to court you-”

You couldn’t help yourself - his voice was drowning in your ears, a ringing sensation taking over until silence deafened you and there was nothing else important in the world. Whilst he’s still speaking, you take his face gently within your grasp, holding onto both sides of his face, turning him to you and smashing your lips against his own. You kiss him passionately, as though it was the last one you may ever share together. It isn’t usually you who initiates moments like this one, but the more he spoke about every moment you shared together, concocting them and making them into something you’ll wear for the rest of your life proudly, all you wanted to do was show him how much the gesture meant to you, how much he meant to you.

When you eventually pull back, your lips linger against one another, breaths mingling together. You press another soft kiss to his lips, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing the apples of his cheeks. Looking up at him, you watch as his eyes start to open slowly, dazed, hazy, in love. A grin rests along your features at having been able to get him so drunk on you in such a way. “Nga yawne lu oer, Neteyam (I love you, Neteyam),” you breathe out, pecking his lips again, even lighter this time. “Oel ngati kameie (I see you).”

A vast smile is obvious upon his features now, uncontainable, but it wasn’t like he wanted to contain it anyway. For as long as the two of you were together, he’d show off all of himself to you, no matter the circumstance. Such a sight before you - all for you - has your heart fluttering. Neteyam presses his head impossibly closer to your own, trying his hardest for the two of you to become one, kneading his face against your own, wanting his scent to be all over you, for everyone to know that you belong to him. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, yawne (beloved), and how eager I am to finally be all yours.”

Your cheeks are hurting from how happy you appear, but there’s so much love being shared between the two of you, you simply don’t care. “And, I cannot wait to be yours, muntxa (mate).”

It’s the first time you’ve admittedly called him your mate - after all this time, it’s usually him to call you such a name. But, seeing him today, presenting you with a gift of such beautifully personal memories, you finally give into yourself. Even if it is still some time before the two of you mate as one before the eyes of Ewya, but all in all, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan will always be your mate. 

A laugh bubbles in the back of his throat at finally hearing you call him such a name, pearly fangs on full display as the two of you show off your eagerness to come together as one - of how much you care for one another, how much you yearn for one another.

You truly cannot wait to be all his, because there was no doubt in your mind that Neteyam was always the one for you.

taglist ;

@bakugouswaif @andraga12 @draiochtwrites @teyums​ @neteyamslovrr @tinkerbelle05 @netesanrr

[marlynnofmany]

Playing Translation Telephone

“Hi,” I said as the door slid open. “Captain Sunlight wants to know how your translations are going.”

Coals sighed. “They’re going. This one’s a mess.” He shook his lizardy head, brick-red scales dull in the light by the doorway. That part of the translation suite was always dim because Trrili liked looming in the shadows there.

But today she was at the workstation in the back, surrounded by glowing screens and a cloud of irritated hisses. “I think we missed a language,” she announced, snapping her pincher arms and angling her antennae into a scowl.

“What, really?” Coals asked. He ran a hand over his head, scales clicking quietly. “How many is that now?”

“Sixssss,” Trrili hissed.

Coals grumbled something I didn’t catch, and walked back over to the workstation.

Curious, I followed and let the door shut behind me. “What kind of project is this one?”

“Old records of a multi-species colonizing effort,” Coals said from his floating chair with the tail hole. “The originals are lost, and all that’s left is this jumble that’s been translated through a succession of languages, none of which they bothered to write down. And they want us to figure out what the originals actually meant.”

“Sounds tricky,” I said. Each of the screens held writing, most in languages I didn’t recognize. Some were notes in the trade language we all spoke, and I was amused to see how much swearing was in Trrili’s notes.

“It is very tricky,” Trrili agreed, jabbing a little wrist finger at the screen in the middle. “The grammar doesn’t match the words, and the idioms are an utter tar hole. It’s anyone’s guess what culture came up with some of these details.”

“I’m pretty sure the bit about rocks is a Strongarm saying,” Coals said. “It makes more sense than a Frillian interpretation.”

“Yes, fine, probably,” Trrili said with an irritated wave of her pinchers. “I’m stuck at this part that goes off on a tangent about the family arrangements of the wildlife. It’s clearly significant, and at least one layer of translation wanted to make sure the full interpretation was spelled out, but that just makes it more confusing.”

“How so?” I asked. I’d gotten the job on this ship because of my animal-care knowledge, so maybe I could offer some insights. I peered at the screen.

“This part,” Trrili said, “Is a recounting of a colonist’s experience in retrieving goods from a shuttle that crashed in a lake. The water creatures seem to have complex social arrangements, and somehow that relates to their behavior toward this particular colonist.” She folded her pinchers and leaned back, glaring at the ancient diary. “Of course this had to be written by someone disinclined to speaking clearly.”

“What kind of behavior is it?” I asked. “Are we talking mating advances, or aggressively protecting the young, or—?”

“Aggressive,” Trrili said immediately. “This word means mouth, possibly teeth specifically, and in the grammatical arrangement that it’s currently configured into, it has to be saying that the thing bit the colonist.”

Coals flipped through documents on another screen. “Do we know what the official name for the creature is?”

Trrili hissed. “Not even close. That’s what this whole tangent is: an attempt at describing it. I’d love to know if it was the original colonist or someone later who decided it would be helpful to tell us that this creature’s ancestors rejected social bonds.”

“Rejected how?” I asked.

Coals brought up another document. “I’ve got something on the legal system of the original colony. Sounds like there were multiple types of family arrangements at play. Possibly this colonist was just musing on a similarity to their own life.”

Trrili hissed. “How does that help us? I don’t see any accounts of this person’s family life, or even their species. We have no way to know if their own parents performed the socially-accepted rituals or not.”

“Wait,” I said. “Is this about the animal’s parents not doing a certain ritual? Like marriage? Is the colonist calling the fish a bastard?”

Both of my alien coworkers looked at me. Coals asked slowly, “That’s an insult in human circles, isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

Trrili threw her pinchers skyward and stalked away from the workstation. “Of course it is. You people are sentimental about everything, including reproduction. This would have been so much simpler if we’d known from the start that there was a human layer to this.”

“So what does it say?” I asked. “The colonist went into the lake to help with the crash, and got bitten by a bastard fish?”

Trrili was walking in circles hissing, so Coals scooted in front of the center screen. “Going by what we’ve figured out so far,” he said, “The colonist was trying to move salvage from the shuttle. Walking through shallow water. The water creatures were of many bright colors — it goes into detail about that, comparing them to refractive prisms and seaspray — but they kept their distance as long as the colonist kept moving. Pretty sure this part says one came in for a bite as soon as the colonist stood still. And that’s where we go off on an elaborate description of the creature’s family arrangements.”

I grinned. “‘Dear diary, today I waded through a lake and got bit by a rainbow bastard fish. Terrible experience; wouldn’t recommend.’”

Coals looked closer. “It does actually say something like that afterward,” he admitted. “There’s a suggestion that the next person to enter the water wear protective clothing.”

Over Trrili’s aggravated hissing, I said, “That colonist might have been a human.”

“Might indeed,” Coals said. He scrolled up through a page of notes. “That could actually shed some light on a couple other spots, now that you mention it.”

Trrili appeared beside us. “Bring up the part about the colony leader mating with someone’s mother.”

I laughed. “I can tell you right now that that’s an insult. The colonist is likely complaining about the boss, not describing something that actually happened.”

Coals looked at Trrili. “Told you we need an insult chart.”

Trrili tilted her head dramatically. “That’s so much work!”

“So’s this,” Coals pointed out. “How about you take another look at what we’ve got so far here, and I’ll start a list of common human insults.”

Trrili took a position in front of the screens, hissing quietly.

“I’ll be happy to help,” I said to Coals. “My people are very creative on that front.”

“So I gather,” Coals said. He scooted over to me, digital notepad at the ready. “And not one of those insults revolves around eggs. Mindblowing.”

“Well,” I said with a tip of my head. “There is the thing about teaching your grandmother to suck eggs. That’s kind of an insult.”

“What?” Coals said. “Never mind. I can tell this is going to be a long list.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[doberbutts]

@corvus--caurinus

Yup! Per my neurologist, before the mid/late 00s the medical community was sort of, uh, unconcerned about so-called "minor" concussions, because the symptoms didn't seem to last longer than a few seconds and thus it was treated as a non-issue. Most parents didn't take their kids to the doctor for them and the few who did were told to let the kid rest for a day and then get back to life as normal.

Then a breakthrough study happened and revealed there is no such thing as a "mild" concussion. All concussions are concussions and all concussions are brain injuries. And all concussions run an exponentially higher risk of increasingly dangerous and life-affecting symptoms as you knock your brain around more and more. And with each subsequent concussion, you run the serious risk of these symptoms becoming permenant brain damage. Turns out, your brain does not actually like to be jumbled around in there, who knew.

The white flash is usually caused by one of two things: a jarring motion in your retinas (not a concussion) or the impact of your brain banging against the fluids and other matter inside of your skull (that's a concussion). Same if you "see stars"- the "stars" are the damaged nerves that just banged into something firing off electrical impulses trying to figure out how to cope with what just happened. And of course if you hit your head or are shaken to the point of losing consciousness, that's your brain's equivilant of the computer that, when smacked, turns itself off. All of these are concussions, and while it may seem like knocking yourself out should result in a worse concussion than just seeing stars, brains don't always follow that rule. All of these concussions will eventually stack on top of each other and will cause a major TBI once you hit your head a little too hard or perhaps even just one too many times.

So when he said "okay so you were never *treated* for a concussion but have you ever had this happen after hitting your head?" well... yes, actually. I was hit in the head by a thrown baseball bat (accidentally) in gym class and promptly took a nap. I was awake and otherwise fine in a few minutes so besides being sent home that day and having a large bruise/egg nothing really happened. I was doing flips on the gymnastic bars and lost my grip and whacked my head against the ground and, you guessed it, was unconscious. By the time my friends got the recess teacher over I was already awake and just a little dazed- again they sent me home but that's it. I fell through one of those dome monkey bars at a playground with my mom and hit the ground head/neck first. This was before the age of cell phones so Mom told me she was trying to figure out what to do about her very unresponsive child in the middle of the park (it's dangerous to move someone who may have broken their back/neck but she also can't just leave me laying on the ground to knock on someone's door to call 911) when I woke up and outside of a stiff neck seemed "quiet but fine".

In fairness according to my neuro there's not really much a doctor *could* have done medically as I bounced back without any problems except maybe have me take it easy for a couple weeks (I'd've died of boredom with no stimulation) but it still should have been noted that each of those were concussions. Then the amount of times that I've been dazed or saw lights... too many to count. I work with high energy dogs in an impact sport, they headbutt me or punch me or knock me to the ground all the time. I was an active kid and an athlete prior to my heart acting up, so sport-related injuries just sort of come with the package and that includes knocks on the head.

But sitting in his office and hearing him say that, and then recovering from the TBI and examining what it's done to my life... it made me realize how much people take for granted. It just takes one too many knocks on the head. He said the major thing he regrets as an older neurologist is that for a very long time, most of his practicing career and certainly a significant portion of my own life, no one really cared about concussions. But the line between concussion and TBI is very blurred, because in truth a concussion *is* a brain injury, and at some point you will concuss yourself much much worse than you were expecting due to the buildup of damage from not taking hitting your head seriously.

The best way to think of it is breaking your ankle. A broken ankle is a broken ankle, there's no such thing as a "mild" broken ankle. But there are grades of severity- a hairline fracture on a single bone is a broken ankle, but recovery time and process are relatively straightforward in most cases. Completely shattering multiple bones on the other hand significantly lengthens recovery time and the process is significantly more involved with a risk of further complications. If you keep doing whatever it is that gave you a hairline fracture, one day you won't be so lucky, and you will completely shatter the whole joint assembley.

That's how concussions are. Those cute little knocks that cause a white flash and nothing else? That's a warning to stop doing that and be more careful. You get to hobble around in a boot for a while to think about your choices leading up to this point. Knocking yourself out? Well you've snapped a bone. You get a cast and some crutches. Full blown TBI? Congrats, the whole ankle is fucked and you need major surgery now.

[theoncomingchaos]

Episode 11 vs. the Original Novel

The time line has gotten a little jumbled here, but key dialogue and moments are mostly the same.

Biggest Differences:

Huai'en gets the flower from Yuzhan's base first WITHOUT saving Xiao Yu. She is very clever in the book, so she puts a knot on the box that Xiaobao recognizes as hers. So, when Huai'en asks what he has to do for forgiveness, Xiaobao tells him to rescue Xiao Yu.

This also means that Xiaobao is healed BEFORE Xiao Yu is saved.

In the book, Huai'en breaks his mother's pendant in half so they each have a piece.

The battle was MUCH more brutal in the books. Huai'en faces off against all his old teachers (that crew following Yuzhan around) They are all masters and have this crazy formation they can do and they nearly kill him. Even when Prince Shen and others arrive, as he is escaping he still gets shot in the back with arrows, but he continues to cover Xiao Yu so she doesn't get hurt. Their horse also goes down. (They get another one). But it really showed just how far Huai'en was willing to go to try and earn Xiaobao's forgiveness.

Homophobia: The book doesn't have homophobia really. In fact, Xiaobao explains that a few years ago it was a big fad for people to have male lovers. Xiaobao wasn't really into it at the time, but he did try it because his friends kept pushing. He never fell for a man until Huai'en. So, while the homophobic comment is weird, Su Yin, DOES think that getting married and having children (which is what his best friend had always wanted) is still the best way for him to live a happy life. He still sees Huai'en as someone who can't be trusted and will just hurt Xiaobao again, so he is doing all of this to protect him.

In the book they make it very clear early on that Master and Madame Jin, as well as Xiao Yu herself, want Xiaobao to marry Xiao Yu. Xiaobao is NOT interested and only sees her as a sister. Su Yin, being close with the family and knowing how much they love each other, thinks this is a better future for him than being with Huai'en.

Xiao Yu does NOT forgive her adopted parents right away, but there is a feeling of one day she'll try to reconnect with them. So, having some note from the mother for her and having her wanting to go home to them is pretty different.

Si Ming & Jin Bao have no past together in the book, so this was MUCH better. I'm also really happy they included my favorite line about not touching other people before touching Si Ming.

Overall, I think not having Xiaobao ask Huai'en to rescue her makes it seem more like he is being caring and selfless on his own which is better character growth.

As for Su Yin, I stand with my cancelled wife.

We REALLY missed out on the banter between Huai'en and Xiao Yu. It is so good (unhinged):

With the wind whistling past her ears, Xiaoyu shouted, "If you can't hold on until I see my brother again, you're worthless."

Gritting his teeth, Huai En replied, "If I don't see him, you'll never see him again in your life."

"If my brother knew you killed me, even if you died, he wouldn't forgive you."

"I won't give him the chance to know if I kill you. He'll never find out."

[paintbrushnebula]

Ghostflower Headcanons

As romantic gestures, Miles loves setting up these elaborate (if a little overkill) activities for Gwen to do, whether it's a special occasion or just. whenever feels like it. They're always these elaborate treasure hunts that he'll set up for her to complete. Like for Valentine's Day--Gwen never stirs in her sleep, so he'll surround her sleeping form with lilacs and peonies all around on the bed so she can wake up basking in their scent. Then this gesture will be somehow tooled as the first clue in this elaborate scavenger hunt across several dimensions, each stop being a cute little romantic gesture like a lovely written note or souvenirs from their times together. He'll have like, puzzles that require playing music or reading scores to move forward in the hunt. And Gwen LOVES them. She likes adventures and the ones Miles orchestrates for her always involve her having to use her many talents. She kinda sees Miles' games as a sweet, fun way of staying sharp. ^_^

Miles will mindlessly rub his face against Gwen's cheek whenever when he greets her or bids her farewell after a long day. A lot of people find it a little strange lol, but know better than to judge Miles in front of Gwen. 

Ghostflower's petnames....so Miles sucks at pet names. He can't think of any good ones besides whatever he's heard his Mami say to Jeff (so just the usual "mi amor.") Mamita works for her too. But aside from that, all the typical English pet names (so like "honey," "sweetie," etc) just feel weird coming off his tongue, he thinks they're cringe and he hates saying them XD. Besides there's just something about how much he loves saying Gwen's name. He loves her name. It's like music to him. And every new time he says it makes his heart flutter more than the last. Gwen's pet names for Miles on the other hand are very... eherm...varied. Like she does use all the typical English pet names, but she'll also randomly spout some very creative names that have to do with situations they're in or objects she just saw or smth, I hope I'm explaining this right 😭 So for example, "my weighted blanket" (if they were just sleeping), or "cupcake brain," "coffee bean," "my bespeckled cheekster" or some other stupid thing she randomly comes up with on the spot XD. 

Gwen is big spoon but Miles will jump off a bridge if Hobie finds out

Lol in fact, a lot of how Gwen treats Miles (fluffy pet names, cuddling him) is stuff Miles never wants Hobie to see XD. So picture Miles melting into Gwen on the couch while she runs fingers through his hair, then Hobie walks in and Miles flings himself right out of Gwen's arms, sitting up straight and clearing his throat, "aherm, wh-whassup' man." And like, Hobie probably wouldn't even give a dang XD. But Miles feels the need to keep up this... intimidating "not some feeble gumdrop" reputation around certain spiders like Hobie, Miguel, and now Peter B, etc.

Gwen hates the heat, she always has to have the AC on or at least a fan in front of her. Sometimes both. But Miles is very sensitive to the cold. So this becomes a dilemma when they're in the same room. Then it breaks out into a back and forth "no it's okay, I can turn it off/No it's okay! I can just put on a jacket!" Eventually they'll reach a compromise: Gwen can have the AC, but she has to cuddle Miles close so he can keep warm. 

Miles likes to paint or draw on Gwen a LOT. Like it basically becomes the norm Gwen's their friends and family to see her walking around with what appears to be temporary "tattoos." Sometimes there'll be "Miles x Gwen" in graffiti-styled lettering on her shoulder, or little spider-man chibis with little speech bubbles, or a jumble of illustrations of places they've been to, lyrics from songs he likes, and just colorful geometry painted all around her arm like a tattoo sleeve, or sunflowers on her cheeks, or just random lines and shapes here and there on her knuckles, arms or jawline. Miles will paint on her whenever he has the chance, whether she's in conversation with a completely different person, or she's doing work, writing, eating-anything. She always lets him, she loves it. And when they're alone and he's drawing on her, they'll sit in a comfortable silence the whole time, it's very...entrancing for Gwen when they're alone in a quiet room and he's hardly making any noise while she feels markers and paintbrushes dancing across her skin. 

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 15

Author's Note: Darrrrrlllllliiiiinnnngggg guess who's back from jail the debilitating cycle of mental illness?

Seriously tho, thank ya'll for sticking with me I have not been able to write more than a couple paragraphs a day lately. Please enjoy meeting a couple familiar faces, as a treat.

Content Warnings: Canon Typical Violence

Previous Chapter/Masterlist

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

Giving the High Lords’ their powers back is, surprisingly, the easiest part of the next hour. Reaching into your power well, untangling the threads of each of them, swirling together within you is easy compared to getting them to agree on anything. They all stand there, in what’s left of the Throne Room, yelling at each other about what’s to be done about your father. Rhys and Helion want him dead now, the Cauldron returned to its resting place. Beron and Tarquin want to go home and be done with the whole mess. Kallias and Thesan want to try and muster their armies, in case of all out war. 

By this point its all a jumble of nonsense in your ears. You’re so tired. Rhys, with his powers returned, is healing nicely from the wounds you’ve inflicted, and despite all he’s endured, he’s the one holding you upright as you lean into his side. It’s taking all your energy to just keep your eyes open, to not give into the warmth that radiates from his skin, and sink into it. 

“We are wasting time!” Helion agrues.

“What he does in the Human Lands is no business of ours!” Shouts Beron.

You’d snarl at him if you had the energy; every time he opens his mouth you wish you’d had the presence of mind to give his powers to Eris instead, but the headache from holding all that had gotten so bad you’d thought your head might actually burst if you didn’t expel as much of it as you could. As is, Tamlin’s powers still prowl beneath your skin; finding him will be a challenge you’ll have to face later, once this threat is finally over.

Rhys’s hand strokes your side soothingly as he comes to Helion’s defense, his snarl making the room shake. He is a sight to behold at full power, everything about him seems to dim the impressive powers around him. Wisps of shadows twirl around his body, twining around your own in exploration. A welcome darkness. You’d like very much to fall into it and not think about any of this for weeks and weeks.  

“We are getting nowhere with this,” Kallias insists. “Let us return home and send out spies. We are of no help to anyone if we end up dead because we went in blind.”

“We cannot wait that long,” Helion presses. 

“We won’t need to,” Rhys says, flicking a bit of lint off his shoulder. “My spy should be here with news any minute now.”

Even you crane your head up to look at him, surprised. He hasn’t moved from the Throne Room, is only now dressed because he summoned something from a pocket realm, when would he have had the time?

He merely winks at you as he says to the others, “Once he arrives, we will make our decision.”

“And we should trust a word from your spies?” Beron snarls. “As we should trust a story about the Cauldron from her.” He’s been rather pissed that a female had wielded his powers, and has taken every opportunity to take a shot at you since getting them back. As if diminishing your ability cleansed them of whatever womanly germs you may have gotten on them. 

“I gave you those powers of my own free will, I can take them back any time I desire,” you warn. 

He has the good sense to step away from you, at least, even if his disdain is palpable.

“The next time you look at my mate like that,” Rhys snarls so low the lights in the room start to wink out. The stars that usually glitter in his violet eyes shrink, pupil expanding until it’s nearly black. “I’ll separate your head from your shoulders.” His shadows deepen, swirling around him.

Mate. The word clangs through them like a warning bell and there are various reactions of disgust and surprise. Helion claps him on the back in congratulations despite the others’ response.

You brush a mental hand over the thin thread that connects you to Rhys, testing to tell yourself that it is real. The loss of the bargains is visceral, it feels as if there’s a gaping wound in your soul, poking around in there feels like touching an exposed nerve, but beneath it, glittering like a million stars, is that tether. The one you suspect might have been the only reason you’re still alive at all. 

Rhys opens his end of it to you, the door of adamant thrown open far wider than it had ever been before. “Are you all right, Darling?”

You could cry from a thousand different things right now, but the fact that you can hear him, feel him like this makes you close your eyes for a brief moment and relish the fact that Hybern hadn’t robbed you of this too. “I thought…” the memory of that dark power holding you down, tearing the bargain apart, flashes across your shared mental space before you can shut it out. “I wasn’t sure this would still be here.”

Rhys’s anger flares down the bond as the memory plays out before him, the arm around your waist tightening. “It will always be here. Nothing, no exiled king, no Mountain, no damned Cauldron, will ever change that.”

“Even if I did punch you in the face?” You quip, eyes blurring with tears. 

His deep rumble of a laugh flows down the bond, fills it with glittering starlight. It is such a contrast to the dark lord mask he still outwardly shows the other lords. Looking at him, they can only see Darkness Incarnate, a creature of shadows and malevolence that keeps baring his teeth when someone gets out of line. Yet here, between your two souls, he is gentle and kind and bright. 

“Maybe if you’d broken my nose it would be different, I am known for my good looks after all,” he returns. “So I suppose it can be overlooked.”

You’ve almost forgotten the other lords are still bickering until Rhys’s remark makes you snort and Beron turns to glare at you. It’s only because your mate flashes his teeth at him with a growl that he keeps from pointing it out. 

You could have stayed like this, warm in both his physical and mental embrace, had a male with wings not entered the room. Fae came in all shapes, sizes and colors, your travels had shown many of them to you over the years, but you’ve met very few with wings like these. The leathery membrane is reminiscent of a bat’s, with a large apex talon at the tip; when folded behind him, the talons make it look like horns are growing out of his shoulders. He weara]s black fighting leathers, fit tight to his muscled form; a sword sheathed between his great wings, a single, ornate dagger strapped to his thigh. You know him to be with Rhys solely from the shadows that mist over his frame, drifting through his dark hair to shroud his face as he enters, his powers not entirely unlike your mate’s.

The male’s hazel eyes flick immediately to Rhys, his features mostly schooled into cold indifference, but you note the briefest flick of relief as he takes in his High Lord.

“Don’t tell me you only brought the Shadowsinger?” Helion asks with a pout.

The rest of the room finally falls silent as the male steps up to the table you’ve all been arguing around. Rhys claps him on the shoulder in greeting, your mate’s posture relaxing at his presence.

The male returns the gesture, the hand he reaches out scarred beyond any repair. “M’lord.” There’s a bit of teasing underneath the tone, as if he says it in joke, perhaps that is why Rhys flashes him a grin in return.

“Well?” Thesan questions. 

“My spies and I have tracked Hybern back to a temple in Spring,” the male says, turning away from Rhys to face them. “Troops are prepared to move, but no one has yet. I couldn’t get any closer.”

You run your fingers over your damaged throat in thought. He has the Cauldron still, why not use it?

Helion asks as much before you can say it aloud. 

“I couldn’t get inside, his shields are extensive. If we are to engage him, we’ll have to draw him outside.”

“With what army?” Kallias returns.

“We have an Illyrian legion and a squadron of Darkbringers standing by,” he says with a nod to Rhys. 

“Ah, so you did bring Cassian,” Helion says with a grin. “I was hoping I’d see a pretty face after being in this cage for so long.”

Beron snarls softly under his breath in disgust. 

“I can break the shield,” you say. 

“Tore through Amarantha’s like butter,” Helion agrees.

Rhys’s attention is now glued to you, as is the Shadowsinger, hazel eyes assessing the way his lord holds you. 

“I can go in first, take the shield down, and you all can come in behind me.”

“And let you lead us right into a trap?” Beron snarls. 

“Would you prefer to go in first?” Tarquin returns.

“Helion and I will be right behind you,” Rhys says slowly, as if he’s still thinking through the details. 

“I can cleave any surprise spells beyond the shield,” Helion confirms.

“My troops can provide cover, if Hybern’s men move,” Rhys continues. “The rest of you can follow along behind. We’ll distract Hybern while…”

A shiver runs inadvertently down my spine at thought, but I force the words out anyway, “While I drain the Cauldron so he can’t use it.”

Rhys nods, a string of affection trickling down the bond. “Once Hybern and his troops are dead, or captured, we send the Cauldron back to its resting place, and we all go home.”

Kallias rubs a hand wearily over his face. 

“I don’t see why all of us have to risk our necks,” Beron snarls.

“Because we don’t know what else he has up his sleeve,” Thesan returns. “We’ve all been in the dark to the outside world for the last fifty years. He could have anything.”

“He doesn’t have his whole army moved in yet,” the Shadowsinger confirms. “We have to move now.”

Tarquin sighs as he leans his weight against the table. “Let us be done with it then.”

You sigh with relief. It’s almost over. This nightmare is, mercifully, moments away from over. All you have to do is tear down a shield and drain the actual, life giving, Cauldron.

The terrifying, cold, bottomless Cauldron that had swallowed you and spit you out. The very thing that had tied you to Hybern’s will and nearly cost you your mate. And you wanted to, somehow, take that power from it so it couldn’t be wielded?

You are in over your head.

You never should have suggested it.

But how can you not? Even with all their powers restored, none of the High Lords can take power from anyone, or anything else. That is a gift that belongs to you and you alone. It has to be you.

By the time you pull yourself out of your thoughts over the ancient artifact, the other lords have filtered out, leaving you alone with Rhys and his spy. It’s only when they’re gone that Rhys releases you, so he can throw his arms around the other male. It is far more affectionate than you have ever seen him be with someone aside from yourself. 

“Az,” he half sobs into the other male’s shoulder.

“You idiot!” The other snarls, even as those scarred hands grip so tight to the back of Rhys’s shirt it looks like he might tear it. “What were you thinking!?”

Rhys’s response is still more sob than laugh, but there is some humor in it nonetheless. “It worked didn’t it?”

“I’d thought I’d never see you again, you stupid prick!” 

When they finally pull away, Rhys is grinning. “Az, you should meet my mate.”

You’re still standing there awkwardly, and probably looking like you’d been tossed under a wagon, if you’re being totally honest with yourself, and the only thing you can think to do is give a little wave. “Hi.”

He looks back and forth between you two, shadows drifting off his shoulders, slithering around his dark boots like snakes as they come to appraise you, much as Rhys’s own powers had that night on Calanmai. Though these are colder and more methodic in their search than your mate’s had been.

“Y/N, this is my brother, Azriel.”

“Who’s blood is all over your hands?” Azriel asks by way of greeting.

It’s an effort not to tuck them behind your back under his scrutiny. “A little bit of everyone’s really,” you mumble.

Azriel shoots Rhys a look that has your mate grinning, “She killed Amarantha.”

“Well, then, it’s nice to meet you,” Azriel replies, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a grin. 

“You two will get along well, I think,” Rhys says, and judging by the warmth he’s flooding down the bond you know he really means it. This is important to him. 

“You make it a habit of killing dictators, Y/N?” Azriel teases.

“Well we are on our way to kill my father, so I might be,” you return.

The shock on his face is enough to make you grin, even as Rhys slaps Azriel on the back and says, “We should go find Cass.”

Cass turns out to be one of the tallest males you’ve ever seen, bearing the same dark wings as Azriel, long brown hair tied back out of his sun kissed face. While Azriel had remarks on Rhys’s absence to make, this one merely barreled into him as soon as he caught sight of him, nearly taking them both to the ground in his attempt to bear hug him.

Azriel takes up the space beside you, watching them with the same cold indifference he looked at everything. “Careful, he’s a hugger.” Was the only warning you got before the giant of a male released Rhys to sweep you up into a hug of your own.

You awkwardly pat his large back once your feet manage to get back on the ground. “Uh hi.”

“You’re much prettier than he is,” he says when he pulls away, a shit eating grin plastered to his handsome face. “You sure you want this loser?” He jerks his thumb in Rhys’s direction for good measure.

Rhys grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back against his chest. “Don’t mind Cassian, he was dropped as a baby.”

“I was not!” Cassian returns. “Thrown out into the snow sure, but no one ever dropped me.”

“His head’s so big you wouldn’t have noticed if he had anyway,” Azriel returns.

Rhys chuckles as they turn to square off each other, shouting obscenities. “I know they’re a little much-”

You run your fingers over his arm where it’s braced against your collarbone, the weight of him at your back solid and reassuring. “This is pretty much what I’d expect of anyone related to you, honestly.”

He gives your shoulder a teasing pinch, “Brat.”

“You endured all this for them,” you say in a more serious tone. “You gave all of yourself to make sure they were safe. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.”

He kisses the top of your head in thanks. “I can’t wait for this to be over, so we can go home and you can meet the rest of them.”

For that, for them, you can do this, you can go up against the Cauldron. You give his hand a squeeze. “Let’s get this done then.”

----

The crunch of every dead piece of grass under your feet sounds like an alarm bell. The rustle of the trees, the quiet of the nearby birds, it all feels as if it’s screaming your location right to your father.

You draw a deep breath as you creep forward, then another as the Temple finally comes into view. Hybern’s shield around the building is a lot less visible than Amarantha’s had been, yet you can feel it. There’s a buzzing beneath your skin that grows the closer you get to it, the air tinged with a hint of overripe fruit.

“Hello, Daughter of the Void, have you come to play another game?”

You freeze, a shiver running down your spine. 

Behind you, Rhys and Helion pause too, watching the area ahead of you warily. Cassian had produced armor and weapons for both of them, their swords still sheathed at their backs. Rhys reaches a hand up to grab his at your movements, but neither mention hearing the Cauldron.

“Darling?” Rhys asks mind to mind to avoid being heard. “Are you all right?”

Your stomach is in your throat, it’s an effort to swallow. “Yeah,” you lie as the phantom touch of that icy water brushes over your skin. Cassian hadn’t found armor for you, just a pair of more practical clothes and boots. Helion had offered to cast a shield for you, but his efforts had been for nothing, your body had swallowed up the shield like it was starving for any bit of new power it could reach. Still, you wish you’d found something, anything to make you feel a little less powerless against what you were up against.

“Just thought I heard something.” In a few more tentative steps, you’re at the edge of the shield.

“Come, come and play, Sweet Nothing.”

You reach out a hand, even though it’s shaking, and let your claws slide into place. They’re still a little distorted from Spring’s powers, you skin a war of fur and scales as the warring powers fight for dominance.

You can do this. Your mate is right behind you. His brothers and their winged armies just above the treeline. You are not alone to fight Hybern this time.

“Once we’re through, let Helion go ahead and check for protection spells,” Rhys cautions.

“I didn’t see any before,” you muse.

“He wasn’t trying to keep you out then,” he reminds. “But he knows that you’re against him now. We have to be ready for anything.”

You square your shoulders. You can do this.

The shield splits under your claws as if you’re shredding paper, your hand tingling with the sensation of a thousand needles as you draw all that power into you. After holding the powers of all the High Lords, this is nothing in comparison, even if it is stronger than Amarantha’s. You don’t stop pulling it into you until you no longer feel the buzzing of it against your skin.

“We’re in,” you say to Helion, who strides past you far more confidently than you felt he should be.

Especially when it’s so… quiet.

You tilt your head, listening. There are still no birds here, but there is no waiting army either. Hybern had plenty of soldiers when you’d seen him last, too many to cram all inside the Temple, even with the ones you’d misted under his orders. It shouldn’t be this quiet.

Helion’s head tilts to the side as he too considers the stillness. 

You can’t smell any spells at work, or see any other types of shields.

“Come, come and play,” the Cauldron beckons. “We have so much more to learn from each other, Little Death.”

Why have no army in sight with something this valuable out in the open?

Why leave something you could hear within reach?

You glance back at Rhys, by the look on his face its clear he too knows something is wrong, but he still can’t hear that it’s wrong. 

“Come.” It starts like a second pulse within your chest. 

“Come.” Then the hair on your arms raises.

“Come.” The ground trembles, but still no one but you notices.

Because you were remade. It knows you and you know it. And that’s the only way you have time to run and push Helion out of the way before Hybern uses the Cauldron to send out a blast of pure energy that hits you right in the chest.

_________________________________

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[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Cherri Bomb Redesign (Bonus!)

Surprise!! It’s her!

I refuse to believe Cherri doesn’t have bunch of scars or injuries from using explosives and fire all the fucking time. There is no goddamn way. Also shes like running and jumping all over the place constantly she’d definitely have a running blade like 90% of the time. (Don’t walk on running blades you will probably trip) Her pant leg is ripped to look cool and also just for easy access to her leg.

I wanted this to be kind of sloppy with the colours; show how a lot of sinners dont have just a select few sins and note how often people participate in almost all of them. Ik it may not be the most pleasing colour palette to look at but that’s kind of the intention. Jumbled colours and asymmetry is really just Cherri’s thing in my head. I wanted it to look like she made or thrifted her clothes as well or like just stole them.

The bomb and cherry in her hair are supposed to kind of look like those hair bobble things that fucking HURT when you snapped them but they were cute so I feel like utilising hair bobbles is something I need to do much more

You could kill a man with these I swear to god.

Her tattoos and stuff are just basic cherries and vines and the little bomb and the bisexual symbol thing. Also bellybutton piercing is some I’ve only ever done once on an OC I have named Angela/Angie which is… kind of ironic?

You even get a little redraw for funsies! This was done for my friend helping me with my rewrite ideas so this is like the least I can do as repayment. You can see heaven up in the corner too :3

I don’t actually have a bunch to say about Cherri’s redesign, I want her to just be this “Oh wow! Thats definitely an outfit!” kind of design cause I love those. Oh and she definitely did the raccoon tail masking bits with craft tape.

I told my friend the dumbass stick figure on her arm is put there because I was thinking of her asking Angel to draw on her and she’d get it tattooed and he cannot draw at all so he just did a stick figure and was like “this is so cool.” and it was not cool at all/j

I wouldve added more stickers to her running blade and stuff but her colour palette is already VERY full so this is the price to pay. Still not sure if I’ll continue doing these but we shall see!! The next design post is likely going to be the lineup and some side by side comparison things ;P 📺

[forhereyesonlyyy]

cupid’s work. — a jang wonyoung x reader short.

word count: 1.9k

author’s note: trying something new! a lot of the things in my drafts are super long, so i wanted to try my hand at writing a short that is actually short (and very vague) where i’m less strict with spelling and grammar and all that jazz and just try to vibe, ha. anyway, i hope you enjoy this~ if i see that you guys like this enough i might make a cute little continuation too <33

author's note 2.0: YA'LL... tumblr is becoming my worst enemy idk why the order of the paragraphs(?????) is getting jumbled up PLS BEAR WITH IT 😭😭

warnings: none.

sometimes you wondered if you were extremely lucky, or horrifyingly unfortunate.

when your managers had told you and your group that you would be filming a variety show with another girl group, you were overjoyed. you have always wanted to make friends with your colleagues, but have been too shy to do so. jayoon was more fit for that kind of thing; socializing. but you thought that you would finally try to come out of your shell in this variety show by making the first move on whoever the other girls may be, until you were told of them.

“ive.”

you didn’t miss the way chaeyoung and sieun gave you a sideways glance at the mention of the popular group. while jayoon and seeun shared a high five, and yeeun and sumin nodded excitedly, you were sinking into your seat.

“what, (y/n)? not happy with the other group?” your manager asked, noticing the distraught look on your face.

you perked up, “i am!”

“i bet you are.” jayoon teased. you kicked her leg under the table, but she only laughed.

your managers decided that it was better not to know whatever it was that bothered you, and had concluded the meeting right after they dropped the date when the groups will meet up for further discussions about the show. nobody talked for the first few minutes after the meeting ended, but when you saw chaeyoung smiling at you, you knew all of them were going to speak of a certain someone.

“so,” sieun started. you busied yourself with looking at your nails, pretending as if you didn’t know that sieun was talking to you. “i think i speak for everyone when i say that you should shoot your shot during this show.”

“absolutely not,” you replied immediately. “that’s... that will never work out! right, sumin?” it was your futile attempt to pull someone on your side.

much to your dismay, your leader only smiled sheepishly at you, “i agree with sieun. it’s getting a little sad seeing you pine for her from afar.”

“and trust me, we all want to be spared of your awkward greetings and even more awkward small talks in the music show hallways.” seeun added, shaking her head. you scoffed, crossing your arms, but you didn’t find the grit to fight back. it really wasn’t your fault that you get tongue-tied in the presence of the idol of this generation!

“hey, we’ll help you as much as we can. but seriously, have faith in yourself! everything will work out fine! you’ll see in the meeting that we’ll have with them that you two will get along well!” chaeyoung, bless her heart, holds your hand in consolation.

“unless you shit your pants, then i don’t think we’ll be able to help you with that.” jayoon said. you groaned, hiding your face in your hands while chaeyoung scolds jayoon in the background.

seriously, what were you going to do?

~

“i feel like my heart is going to break out of my ribcage and make a run for it.” you paced around the practice room restlessly. it was the day that stayc and ive will have their meeting for the variety show. when the news was announced on the internet, everybody seemed excited for it. what was better than having one girl group in a variety show? two, of course! both fans of the groups were excited for all of the members of be interacting, and your heart warmed at the encouraging comments of you fans, saying that you will finally have your moment to make friends, like you have always said you wanted to do.

“they’ll be here in a sec, girls.” one of the staff said. you heard jayoon and yeeun snickering behind you, but they both patted your back for good luck.

“i’m gonna faint.” you told sieun.

but you weren’t going to lie, it felt like it was the end of the world.

“you’re not gonna faint.”

and then almost immediately, the door swings open and the first face your eyes set on were jang wonyoung’s. she towered above everybody else and in your eyes, she always had that glow around her that made it hard for you to ignore her. and really, it was your big pathetic crush on her that just automatically made you look at her.

chaeyoung, who was genuinely worried that you would pass out, places her arm around your waist and had you bowing towards the other group with her, as well as the rest of your group.

“hi, (y/n)!” rei greeted, grabbing both of your hands and shaking them. you got acquainted with her a long time ago, after bumping into her in a bakery and finding yourselves being completely at peace in each other’s company. ever since that, you’ve been friends, but you hadn’t told her about your infatuation towards her fellow member though.

“hello.” wonyoung greeted you, bowing again. you found your words stuck in your throat, and only bowed back. you avoided looking at her because every time she was around, it was hard to keep yourself together. (which was a shame, because you would’ve seen the slightest look of disappointment on wonyoung’s face when you avoided her eyes.)

once the groups were introduced to each other, the producer of the show, who was a relatively young woman, ushered you all to sit down on the floor with her. you sat in between seeun and rei and about three seats away was wonyoung. you continued to look at everyone else but her.

“oh, (y/n). are you not feeling well today? you look a bit pale.” the producer said.

everyone turns their head towards you, making you flinch. even jayoon seemed genuinely worried. she was afraid that she might have taken her teasing too far and had actually scared you into ignoring your crush. but you frantically shook your head, laughing nervously, “i’m alright!” you told the producer.

seeun puts her hand on your forehead, “you’re not sick, are you?” she asked. 

you gently took her hand and rested your joined hands on your lap, “no, no. i’m fine, really.” you said.

(wonyoung studied you closely. she noticed the way you didn’t know what to do with your hands after seeun lets go of it, the way your eyes darted everywhere, and the way you didn’t look like you were listening at all. she got worried.)

after that, the producer then went on to the details of the show. the groups will be traveling together in popular tourist spots and will occasionally have friendly competition from time to time. the show is mostly about building friendships between idol groups and overall just wholesome content for the groups’ fans. everybody loved it, and you felt genuinely excited about it all.

“speaking of games, there’s no way we can’t not do the lie detector game.” the producer said, a mischievous grin spreading across her lips. the lie detector machine was filled with bullshit, as you have come to know, but every time your members get shocked by it, it was always fun.

plus, it was the only time that you got to do the teasing.

“although we might need to protect anyone who might be weak to being poked fun at,” the producer joked. your members nodded, and of course the producer sees the way jayoon and yeeun looked at you while they giggled. “(y/n), you’re not good with jokes?” the producer asked.

you shook your head, playfully glaring at jayoon and yeeun. “it’s just that you don’t really need a lie detector to find out if she’s being truthful or not.” sumin clarified, which really only made things worse on your end.

the producer laughed, “really? should i try it out then? (y/n)-ah, do you have a crush on someone right now?” well, that was a conveniently timed question. your members laughed, so you couldn’t help but laugh with them while your cheeks inhabited a very deep red color.

rei looks at you with wide eyes, “whoa.” she said. you covered your blushing face and leaned into rei, shaking your head. while your members started teasing you about how big of a trouble you were going to be in once you all play the game, you made eye contact with wonyoung, who had a fond smile on her face, and only blushed harder.

you looked away, but you couldn’t hide your shy grin.

(wonyoung’s heartbeat started racing. no way. her own cheeks started flushing pink. oh, good god.)

when the meeting ended, it only felt like there was the start to a great friendship. you hugged rei goodbye and gave yujin and leeseo a warm side hug (those two talked to you a lot during the meeting, always adding onto your ideas and looking at you attentively as you talked).

“goodbye for now.” wonyoung tells you as she approached the door with her members.

“goodbye—” your mouth clamps shut and your heart drops when wonyoung suddenly squeezed your hand before waving and bowing towards your members. once ive was out the door, you stared at your hand with wide eyes.

“holy shit, (y/n).” seeun, who witnessed the whole moment, said.

you nodded and breathlessly you replied, “holy shit.”

“i’m not the only one who saw that, right?” yujin asked, nudging wonyoung with her elbow. wonyoung has been smiling for a while now. “i can’t believe you’re going to get a girlfriend before i do.” the leader said, sighing.

~

ive was a mess in high up entertainment’s parking lot.

“i knew i wasn’t hallucinating when i saw it!” liz exclaimed, bouncing on her feet. they were, of course, talking about the very brief moment you looked at wonyoung when the producer mentioned crushes.

yujin smirked, “how did you know she was talking about (y/n)?”

“what? (y/n) didn’t even say she was crushing on me! also, that would be ridiculous. i’m just me, and she’s (y/n) of stayc.” wonyoung said, forcing herself to laugh.

gaeul stared at her, simply amazed to see the wonyoung looking so infatuated, “you’re in deep, huh?”

wonyoung paused, and once again, she found herself blushing.

yes. terribly so. jang wonyoung has had the biggest crush on you for... wow, she can’t even say exactly when. but she remembered it as clear as yesterday. being friends with rei, it made sense that you would do everything to support her and her group. so, it didn’t surprise wonyoung when you made a surprise visit during an ive comeback show. what did surprise her was how you had apparently worked hard getting the perfect bouquets for each and every member.

wonyoung found herself feeling completely enchanted by you when you handed her a beautiful bouquet. her heart melted at your words that day too.

“i saw these light pink tulips and thought of you. they’re candid, yes, but they’re very beautiful. i felt like they suit you the best — simple, but that factor is what made them so perfect. a-ah! i hope you don’t take that the wrong way! i-i wasn’t trying to insult you, or anything...”

wonyoung spent the next couple of minutes consoling you that time. those tulips were long gone now, but wonyoung never forgot about your words. ever since then, you have been on her mind, as well as her heart.

her holding your hand for a brief moment was only the start of her attempt to finally tell you of her feelings, which she hoped that you shared.

throughout the ride back to the dorms, wonyoung was smiling quietly in her seat, with only the thought of holding your hand a lot more in the future in her mind.

[tsukimefuku]

no more patience behind the wheels ✦ kiyotaka ijichi

summary: your friend ijichi has become the unwilling listener to all your woes, and it is definitely taking a toll on him, so he decided to take the matters into his own hands and try to solve your communication problems for you.

cw: platonic/friendship ijichi x reader, comedy, fluff, very suggestive regarding reader and someone else.

wc: 850ish

notes etc.: this poor, poor man. somebody please give him some time off, he truly needs it.

✦ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist

To say Ijichi's life was turned upside down on an almost daily basis due to sorcerer's shenanigans would be an understatement. He saw himself constantly having to deal with tomfoolery, being jumbled around by you all, as he tried to do his job the best he could.

But for the past few weeks, you, especially, had become absolutely insufferable, to say the least. 

The poor man had lost count on how many times you called asking for him to help you back to your house after getting hammered at the bar. You were feeling miserable, and with good reason after some shit went down in your life, but goddammit woman, get a grip.

Not only that, but the way you were always on and on about how you loved Nanami, and how things were going to end up terribly, and how you had tried before and it didn't work out, yadda yadda was really wearing Ijichi down.

At first, it was a little jarring for him to hear you speak so casually and in such detail about your personal life completely unprompted. Then, it was actually fun hearing your love life ramblings, it felt like a soap opera — the entire story of how you managed to 'screw up two shots at happiness', in your own words (he did not agree, but made no comment on the matter). But now, it was tiring, especially due to the fact that you seemingly forgot every occasion you poured your heart out in his ears.

So, of course, every time he picked you up to drag you back home, it was the same whining.

Every. Damn. Time.

You were about to become his 13th reason.

Ijichi honestly felt like he'd rather face a curse in your place than having to hear that wailing yet again, so he decided to take the matters into his own hands.

"Nanami-san, permission to speak freely for one minute" he said, voice uncharacteristically steady, as he looked at Nanami — whom he had just picked up from a mission — through the rearview mirror.

Ijichi's braveness was a byproduct of his own desperation.

Last night, after your endless ramble about your love life failures, you managed to ruin a perfectly good pair of shoes with vomiting.

His poor shoes.

Nanami had his arms crossed over his chest, and lifted an eyebrow after hearing those words, looking at the assistant in return.

"What would it be about?" the sorcerer curiously inquired, given that Ijichi was rarely — if ever — the type of person to ask for these kinds of things.

"Personal matters. Some guidance is... needed." 

Nanami sighed. "I don't think that would be very appropriate during work hours, Ijichi."

"Please," Ijichi said, his voice taken by some kind of underlying misery, which Nanami noticed. 

He relaxed his shoulders and nodded.

"Fine, go ahead."

"Nanami-san, do you love her? Do you want to be with her?" Ijichi blurted out.

Nanami was immediately taken aback in a mixture of shock and surprise, tensing up his muscles.

"Well, that's a highly inappropriate question to-"

"Nanami-san, she has been calling me to pick her up at the bar these past few weeks, and every time she's completely hammered and rambles about many things, more specifically, how much she loves you, and everything that has happened," Ijichi interjected, still driven by anguish with a knuckle-white grip on the steering wheel.

He'd surely resign his duties if he had to listen to your moping one more time.

"Against my will, I have been completely made aware in excruciating detail about everything, over and over again, and she won't stop. Please, I can't hear these same stories another time. I am begging, do something about it. She is truly fond of you, to say the least."

"... Everything?"

"Everything," Ijichi confirmed.

They were both silent for a moment, and Ijichi was slowly coming back to Earth, realizing that, in his desperation, he had basically just scolded Mr. Mature, Nanami Kento.

I'm done for.

"Ijichi-san" Nanami began in his characteristic impassive tone. Ijichi immediately gulped, bullets of sweat starting to prickle on his skin.

"Y-yes?" He whimpered, involuntarily making himself smaller in his driver's seat.

"Your minute is up," Nanami concluded, turning his face to look outside the window, seemingly done speaking.

Ijichi sighed with bated relief, until he heard Nanami's voice again.

"I'll handle her. Thanks for informing me," the ratio sorcerer said impassively, and the assistant thought, for a moment, that he saw through the rearview mirror a content smile flash on Nanami's face.

Finally, Ijichi thought, sighing, as he began moving the car. Tomorrow I'm getting another pair of shoes.

... Wait a second, did Nanami-san just say he'd... 'handle'... her...?

Realizing it, Ijichi blushed violently, and coughed a few times as he stopped by a red light.

"Is everything alright?" Nanami inquired.

"Y-yes. J-just fine, nothing's wrong," the assistant stuttered, more embarrassed than he had ever been in his entire existence, ready to shove his head in a hole on the ground, realizing what his request — please do something about it — actually sounded like.

Maybe this thorough embarrassment was even worse than listening to your gibberish, after all.

Tag-list: @marikuchanxo @actuallysaiyan @rahuratna @kentocalls @rahuratna

@redlikerozez @pseudowho @g-kleran @jadedjane @otomesass

@swirlingcurses

Also sorry marikuchanxo this took me so long to post 😅

[capipie]

FIRST MEETINGS ♡ ♡ arlecchino x gn!reader

part of my harbinger fantasy au series ( more info here )

synopsis : there's never a quiet day for someone like arlecchino. especially not when she receives word of an assassin from a neighbouring kingdom coming to wreak havoc in her homeland... well, there's plenty she can do about that, isn't there?

notes : 2nd person , small text . warnings for mentions of blood + death ( reader is ' attacked ' by an assassin )

a/n : psssht it isnt super long or anything, but there's a little less to say in regards to how the reader meets all of the harbingers compared to future endeavours ( with the exception of perhaps scaramouche ? ) this wasnt crazy proofread or anything n my brain is a little jumbled so im sorry if it doesnt feel very substanced eheh ...

Arlecchino spun the handle of her dagger around in her fingers, leaning against the wall. The city was near silent as the moon hung high in the sky, and the light of the streetlamps had long since been put out. The only thing left to illuminate her figure was the starlight above her.

"Lyney. Your report," She said, not even bothering to glance in the direction of the darker parts of the alley. She didn't need to in order to know he was already there.

"Father," Lyney stepped forth out of the shadows, raising his eyes to behold the face of the masked woman standing before him. "We've gathered some information you may be interested in."

There was nothing sweeter than the thrill of the kill for a person like Arlecchino. Not because she particularly enjoyed it, but because she knew that everything she did was to protect the sanctity of her home. The safety and peace enjoyed by the kingdom's citizens could only remain if a certain price was paid.

When she opened the door and saw the figure standing over your bed with a dagger, poised and ready to strike, she wasted no time. Striking like a phantom, wrenching the blade out of their hands and pressing it to their throat — she leered over their shoulder, with a glare quite unmatched by any other.

"Begone, foul parasite."

A splatter of blood hit the floor as Arlecchino pulled the blade across the assassin's throat. The threat was eliminated, but she'd have to be quick in disposing of the evidence, before—

"...Hm." It seemed a little late for that, as when she looked up from the corpse she'd dropped to the floor, she saw you. Wide awake, with an expression of abject horror like you'd been watching the entire time.

Arlecchino furrowed her brow, deciding it would be better to leave before the situation escalated and turning to leave the room. You, however, seemed unwilling to let that happen. Arms wrapped shakily around her midsection, you pulled her back without any warning.

Arlecchino had half a mind to shove you away and get out as soon as possible. But when she felt a sudden trembling against her chest and a wetness soaking into her shirt, she suddenly couldn't quite bring herself to do that.

Her hand came to rest in the small of your back, careful to keep her sharp nails away from your delicate skin. Carefully, she set the dagger grasped in her other hand off to the side, not caring to notice if the blood staining its blade would dirty the furniture this time. There were far more pressing matters at hand.

"I'm sorry. Did I frighten you?" She murmured, voice low but far from threatening.

"No, no, you... You saved my life, I'm just..." You trailed off into quiet hiccups, clutching onto the fabric of Arlecchino's cloak. The truth was, you'd been awake long before Arlecchino stepped in to save you, but far too afraid to even move.

Knowing you were seemingly safe now... A sense of both relief and terror washed over you in a heavy wave, and you barely knew how to handle it.

There wasn't much left to be said for Arlecchino; she just rubbed gentle circles into your back with one hand, trying to soothe your shock. Although she was more than willing to do harm to those she had to, she was far from a cruel individual. Seeing such a delicate thing in such distress filled her with a sense of discomfort.

"Don't worry," She said eventually, eyes falling upon the corpse of the would-be assassin strewn across the floor by the window. "I'll clean everything up for you. And I'll make sure this never happens again."

Your head tilted up to look at her, tear-stained cheeks glittering in the moonlight.

"W-Who... Who are you?"

"...Just your guardian angel."

The room fell back into silence after that. You sniffled quietly as Arlecchino set you back to bed, gently tucking the covers around your shoulders and smoothing out the creases of the blanket. After a moment of hesitation, she also leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, smoothing down any stray hairs with a gentle stroke of her hand.

"Sleep now — and don't be afraid. I promise to keep a close eye on you from now on," She whispered softly into your ear, before standing up straight again.

Everything that happened in that room was never spoken of again. Although you could vividly recall your saviour's voice, the appearance of the woman eluded you — and you weren't eager to go speaking of such events to anyone else. Not when you knew what Pierro would have to say about it.

Ah... But who was that mysterious lady?

[covesdadappreciation]

[Going through basically every step] Renee Murray x FTM Reader

Fluff

I always refer to Renee and [Name] as their current pronouns and will only refer to them as their former terms when referring to something they said when they were younger/at the age they used those terms. 

Heads up, Writing this is confusing for me because the OL’s school grade system is vague for my understanding, so the timeline might be confusing or it’s just me…

[Name] and Renee.

The two most fucking oblivious people in the whole world.

Even Tamarack noticed. 

Renee and [Name] have been the closest of friends since elementary school. 

Sure, not at the very beginning when they met considering that [Name] was born female and only realized he was trans in High school. Renee, back in the 5th grade when she’d met [Name], wasn’t a huge fan of girls. She thought that girls were a distraction, envy covered with disinterest in anyone who identified as a girl and some internalized misogyny perchance. 

It only took a couple weeks for Renee to finally get used to [Name]’s attempts in starting their friendship, and I mean it took effort. Renee’s stubborn, no doubts about it. So when they met [Name], all she could think was ‘what a dumb girl. I’m never going to be friends with her!’ and made it their mission. 

Unsurprisingly, [Name] can also be stubborn with a mission. 

He made origami animals, brought a handful of nature from Tamarack’s backyard, and post-it notes to put in an envelope. Then it would be safely secured in [Name]’s bag until Renee would visit her mom’s classroom or when the group would hang out to be delivered into Renee’s hands. 

And for 3 weeks, this went on and on until Qiu convinced Renee to at least try being friends, which somehow worked. 

[Name] took the illusory award of Renee’s friendship with pride, making sure to enjoy every aspect. [Name] had invited her to his house countless times, had figured out every single little thing that Renee enjoys or hates based on observation (because god forbid Renee ever talk about her feelings), made gifts for her, and visited her class whenever possible as the years passed on. In return, Renee gradually began to return those actions, and more. Inside jokes, getting each other food, leaning on each other both physically and emotionally, and always being protective of one another. 

So imagine Renee’s horror when [Name] was starting to “haunt” her mind. [Name] was suddenly the person that Renee imagined being roomies with, wanting to hang out with him constantly, occasionally getting jealous if anyone ever tried to get as close as she and [Name] are.

“I can’t like her!”  She had complained, “She’s… her.” Renee didn’t want to lose her best friend. The one person who she understood and cared for the most, more than she did for Qiu. Hell, anyone else should’ve been her crush, but [Name]? This was going to fucking hurt if this goes wrong. So Renee made a promise to herself that this growing realization was never leaving the mind palace. This is gonna be a pain.

Little did she know that [Name] was juggling those same thoughts as well… just… differently. 

“They’re never going to like me! I’m going to have to explain so much. What if they don’t like me? What if my transition changes things?” [Name] doubted, “and then what? We just, what, go on dates? Or would we stay only friends? No one’s prepared me for this!”

So baby steps.

[Name] came out to Renee, Tamarack, and Qiu on bowling night that [Name] forced them on.

“I’m trans.” He states simply as he came back from a roll.

“You missed.” “Congrats!” “What?” The trio all said in a jumbled mess. [Name]’s eyes were mainly stuck on Renee’s reaction, noticing how her look turned soft. No judgment, no bitter or distant look… more so a sense of pride and ease. [Name] sat back down next to Renee while it was Qiu’s turn, getting a firm comforting side hug from Renee. 

She’s the prettiest person [Name] had ever seen.

And [Name] was the most handsome person Renee had ever seen.

Two years later, on Renee’s birthday, [Name] was the last person to stay for the party. The both of them sitting on Renee’s front porch, a smoky feel to the autumn air, faint smell of cinnamon coming from the Murray household. Renee paused for a moment, opening and closing her mouth, trying to find the right words for something. 

“How’d you figure out your whole… trans thing?” Renee asks softly, the words barely wanting to escape her. 

“Oh- uhm” [Name] straightens his back, furrowing his brows to think.

Renee catches how sudden the question is, groaning into their hands before muttering out a quick “Sorry, sorry. You don’t have to answer- and maybe wrongly worded, I just… you’re the only one I could imagine asking this to, so…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Renee! Let me think” [Name] reassures, looking away before explaining every thought and personal feeling that they felt safe to share with Renee. A small gut feeling in [Name] knew there was a reason she had asked, but he knew it wasn’t his place to prod. Even if there was a cautious approach to her voice that probably said it all in hindsight. All [Name] knew was that he had to give her space and a chance to open up if necessary.

“--So yeah. That’s when I decided I had to tell you guys.” [Name] shrugged, looking back at Renee. 

A small moment of silence followed afterwards, uncertainty painting Renee’s face. It almost made [Name] wonder if he said something wrong until he felt Renee place her head on his shoulder. 

“...Thank you for telling me” she exhaled sharply, her upper body going slightly limp as to try and relax herself.

Renee was the kindest soul that [Name] had ever met.

And [Name] was the most patient boy Renee had ever met. 

Once in their 20s, high school over with and their futures now fully in their own hands, the dating rumors were finally over with. Sure, Qiu and Tamarack were the main instigators, but it was surely not because they saw something that Renee and [Name] refused to see!

So what if Renee finally came out and the first person they told was [Name] and they both went out to celebrate at the diner? So what if Renee and [Name] were making plans to room together in an apartment? So what if [Name] bakes sweets for Renee, and Renee cooks for [Name]? And what if Renee and [Name] are each other’s closest “oh-so-definitely platonic soulmates”?

It isn’t like Renee had told Qiu about her crush, nor did [Name] tell Tamarack…

Definitely not.

No.

Never. 

It’s not like Qiu and Tamarack connected the dots in middle school and have tried everything in their power to get the two of them to finally just get together. 

—

“You have to tell her” Tamarack huffed, messaging her forehead, “She totally likes you!”

“It’s going to eat me alive if she rejects me! What if we stop being friends?” [Name] whined.

“What if you guys end up getting together and having the most loving relationship for the rest of your lives?” Tamarack exclaimed.

—

“How would I even start? Just go up and say ‘I’ve had a crush on you since we were in middle school! Surprise!’” Renee ran a hand through her hair and tugged lightly, 

“Yes!” Qiu yelled out, “That’s almost perfect!” 

—

“I can’t fuck this up, Tammy” [Name] sighed

“Then don’t. Go up to her.”

—

Imagine me this. It’s a Sunday night in Golden Grove’s park after dinner at a restaurant. Two people with one single goal in mind. Confess their fucking hearts out. Both of them unusually dressed up more formal than normal, fidgeting hands, nervous glances and laughter, but the comfortableness between two people who have known each other for years makes it bearable. 

These love dorks were [Name] and Renee. 

The only ones sitting on a bench, sitting in odd positions but deeming it comfortable somehow, (though it may be the reason they have back problems) and on the verge of exploding over how terrifying and exciting this is. 

“Renee-” “[Name]” They start

“Shit, sorry. Go ahead” [Name] bowed his head slightly. Renee cleared her throat, “Right, so… I think that you should know that I think your presence is great.”

“That’s good to know” [Name] chuckles,

“...Would you say you feel about the same?”

“I would die for you” [Name] states seriously at first, blank face before smiling to make sure that it was a lighthearted comment (but he probably would,) “But yeah, of course I enjoy your presence. We’ve been partners in crime for… basically our entire lives”

“Right right-”

“And you know, we might as well be together for the rest of our lives because we’re gonna live together, and I like you, and if you like me too we could get better tax returns if we ever got married–” [Name] began to ramble.

“What?” Renee raised a brow.

“I mean- maybe you don’t like me! We could still get married to get those tax returns- or not get married at all!” [Name] panics throughout the confession, “And by me liking you isn’t because of the tax returns! I really do just like you, I have for years, like middle school or highschool, but I didn’t want to scare you away and have to make all those origami animals all over again! Fuck, this is not how I wanted this to go–”

[Name] hides his face into his hands for a moment, groaning in disbelief towards himself, “I like you. That’s what I was trying to get at. I made it a lot more difficult than needed”

“I saw that” Renee giggled, flicking [Name]’s shoulder, “That may have been the most dorkiest or worst confession I have ever heard in my entire life, I’m still debating.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” [Name] was interrupted.

“Now I’m not saying I don’t like you, [Last Name]. I’m just saying that your confession was out of this world. Not that I was going to do better than that either, but you know,” Renee shrugs, “I like you. I have for years now too…”

[Name] finally gains the courage to lift his eyes up to look at Renee, “Seriously?”

“Very seriously. You’re very important to me, [Name]. The most handsome man I’ve ever met, the boy I grew to love, someone I didn’t think I’d love or wait this long for, but you made every second worth it.” Renee gives a small smile, breathing in the foggy autumn feel. 

“I think we’re soulmates” [Name] says plainly, “Because no matter what would've happened, if in some alternate universe there was some kind of obstacle that tried to stop us from being together, we would’ve found a way back to each other no matter what. I know I would.” [Name] adds, placing his hand over Renee’s hand. 

They both exchange a gentle look, Renee’s fingers play with [Name]’s rings, intertwining their hands together. They lean in closer, and the giddy feeling of waiting after so many years practically swallows [Name] whole. 

It wasn’t a shock to find that Renee was a gentle kisser, cautious to make sure that they’re both enjoying it, occasionally splitting away and coming back, as if still starving for more affection. Eyes closed, feeling their hands still together… Each other’s first kiss. 

Two people that will always try to understand each other. Two people who don’t even need to try and find the beauty within one another because they see it constantly no matter what.

[crazystargirl]

jealous? i don't get jealous! ♥

NONE OF THESE LINKS BELOW ARE UPDATED!

pt. 1 || pt. 2 || pt.3

pairing ♥: spider soccoro x reader, spider soccoro x human!reader, jealous!spider soccoro x reader

word count ♥: 0.6k!

author's note ♥: i'm so sorry this took so long to write, but here is part 2! i took a bit of a hiatus but im back, i'll still be a bit inactive but i promise i'm writing, and currently working on some requests!

When you guys reached the girls, Tuk ran up and gave you both bug hugs.

"Y/n/n!!! I missed you so much!"

"So did I Tuk, hey Kiri!!"

When you got out of Tuk's death grip, you made your way to Kiri and gave her a hug. Spider watched as he gave a hug to Tuk. You came back to him and started to drag him to go greet Neytiri and Jake. 

"Y/n/n…do I have to go greet Neytiri?"

"You skxawng!!! Of course you fucking do, for Eywas sake! Honestly Spider I thought you had more manners than this"

Spider looked down at the ground, embarrassed. You notice this and lift his head up, even though you're shorter, to have him look into your eyes.

"Spider…I was joking, but I'm also serious about greeting Neytiri and Jake."

"I know y/n and I'm sorry for trying to avoid it"

Spider gives you a hug and kisses you on the head, you guys stay like that for a bit until you hear a voice.

"Love birdssssss"

You guys hear Tuk purposely drag out the word and pull away, embarrassed. You take Spider’s hand and start to take him to greet Jake and Neytiri. When you guys reach them, you exchange your hellos and you can't help but notice not only Spider is stiff but Neytiri is too. Jake seems to notice this and shrugs at you.  

You four stood there in an awkward silence until Tuk comes running up to Neytiri

"Mommmmmm!!! My feet are hurting and Lo’ak keeps annoying me!"

"Lo’ak! Stop bothering your sister and don't worry Tuk, we're leaving soon" Jake says, looking in the direction of the other Sully kids

"Alright since we’re obviously not hiking up there i think how are we gonna get up there?" you asked confused

All at once everyone opened their mouths to speak which caused a jumbled conversation and a very confused you

Neteyam leaned over while everyone was talking and told you that they'd be riding the ikran to get up there.

"Wait if we're riding ikran whose going with who? I know all of yall except Tuk have your own so who will me and Spider be riding with?"

"I can take y/n!" Lo’ak said from out of nowhere

"Alright if you’re taking y/n then Neteyam take Spider…alright yeah let's grab our stuff and go" Jake said looking around 

After everyone got their stuff loaded onto the ikrans, you mounted it with the help of Jake since there was no way you'd be able to get on it without some help

"Alright let's hope we can get there before sunset at least"

After not even 5 minutes of flying, you got bored. Lo’ak was fidgeting not making any conversation so unless you were going to yell to talk to Spider, there wasn't anything to do.

"You ok? You're awfully quiet and your fidgeting." you asked Lo’ak after anothef 5 minutes had passed

"Huh? Oh uh yeah I'm fine…just thinking"

"You mind me asking about what?

"Uh ummm"

"HEY Y/N/N!" You both whipped your heads around to see Neteyam and Spider 

"What's upp?" you yelled back since it was hard to hear each other over the wind

"You just seem a bit tense! You good?"

"Yeah and so do you spider boy!"

You and Neteyam laugh as Spider sticks his tongue out but of course it hits the exopack

"Ewww spider! You just licked the exopack" you yell, bursting into laughter at his disgusted face

Neteyam watched as you laughed and saw Lo’ak and Spider looking at you with the same kind of happiness.

Oh my Eywa, you were caught in a love triangle and you didn't even know it!

series taglist ♥: @ok-boke, @spiderscrrowife

regular taglist ♥: @xyzstar, @ourloveisgod23, @dizscreams, @kaesworldxx, @bhk1234uwu, @nonniesworld, @athenalive, @lanaslittletwinkie (if your name is crossed out, it's bc it didn't let me tag you)

©crazystargirl 2023 || do NOT copy or repost my work without my permission

[bloodiedrogue]

ONLY FOOLS FALL

SUMMARY: Upon arriving in Baldur's Gate, Zayis decides to pay her old flame a visit... much to Astarion's dismay.

PAIRING: Astarion & Zayis (OFC)

WORD COUNT: 12,356

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, penetrative sex, teasing, blood sucking as a form of foreplay (therefore mentions of blood), feelings realized, first confessions, angst with a happy ending.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been months of brainstorming this particular scene and the build up that goes along with it, but I think I finally got it. For context, Vesryn is Zay's sort of ex who she never properly breaks up with due to getting kidnapped.

I know this chapter is a bit of a doozy but please, if you at all like my writing I beg you to give this one a shot. It's probably one of my favourite things I've written and I'm very proud of it. :')

Also shout out to @novarunestone specifically for helping my brain push through. You're the best, dude. <3

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

-

She’s at his door before she can even think to leave, rapping her knuckles against the grain —trying her best to swallow down the knot that resides in her throat. Pushing against the walls of her esophagus, she can feel the obstruction blocking her airway. 

Forcing a heavy sigh to escape as she reaches up to touch it, she can’t help but wonder if this is her body’s way of enacting guilt. Considering her mind’s already jumbled up enough as it is, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was. She did throw a knife at her partner’s head for Gods’ sake, so the least she could do is feel the events of her shitty behaviour. That and to properly apologize. Which is ultimately why she’s here, standing in front of her old home, running her fingers nervously along the length of her neck.

As it swells with anticipation she can feel her chest tighten and her hands begin to sweat. Each symptom growing the longer she stands there, waiting; wondering whether or not he’ll answer the door. 

Deep down, there’s a part of her that hopes he doesn't. A part that screams for her to turn on her heel and dash back to camp without even looking back. A part that thinks the unspoken word between two separating parties is more than enough closure to get her through. It’d certainly be the easier option, right? The one with less baggage. Perhaps if she could just accept that she’s still that same asshole that left all those weeks ago rather than the better person she’s currently trying to be she could just pretend like she never knocked on the door in the first place. Up and leave and never speak of this again. 

Biting her bottom lip in annoyance, she knows she can’t. Thanks to Wyll and his stupidly decent advice, she’s too far gone with this whole making amends thing. Having promised the warlock she’d at least try to apologize, the mere thought of failing makes her want to crawl all the way to Avernus and never let another soul see her face again. Either that or hole up in the woods somewhere. Whatever happens first, really. 

However, considering the more likely option being Avernus, she continues to stand there, idly scratching the side of her neck, feeling the ends of her claws dig through her dirtied flesh. 

Almost immediately, the feeling of it makes her cringe and drop her hand, realizing just how stupid she must look, covered head to toe in dirt. Reeking heavily of sweat and viscera —two scents you definitely don’t want to bring home when you’re about to beg for forgiveness for apparently running away with a vampire. 

Which obviously isn’t the case. Or, at least wasn’t. Nowadays she’s not quite sure what to think about that whole situation. So most of the time she just blocks it out entirely. Ignoring the fact that the line that was once drawn between her and Astarion has begun to blur into something new. 

Something she has to apologize for otherwise the guilt might eat her alive. So, she bangs on the door again, this time using the edge of her fist to repeatedly slam against the wood, gritting her teeth in frustration. All while praying to whatever God might be listening that for once, instead of fighting, Vesryn just accepts her apology.

Because truthfully, she’s not sure she can take the rejection right now. Not even when she hears him grumbling on the other side of the door, making her realize she’s still pounding against it. Her hand repeatedly colliding until it’s eventually torn from her grasp and the man she once called her partner is standing before her. 

“Zay?”

He looks older somehow. Worn out. With eyes that were once large, round orbs of obsidian are now narrowed and soaked in age. A newfound darkness cradling each one with exhaustion. 

Pressing her lips together she nods her head at the sound of his voice and continues to stare, taking in all his features. Picking apart the way his face twists from confusion to annoyance, ultimately falling on something unfamiliar that eventually disappears inside the crook of her neck.

“You’re alive.”

He says it as if it’s a question. Whispering it against the shell of her ear, she barely hears it at first. Too shocked to process the position that she’s currently in, all she can do is stand there and try to repeat the phrase in her head. Allowing the individual sounds to fully absorb before she’s nodding her head again. “Hi, uh, yeah.” 

He pulls away, still resting his hands on her arms. “You escaped.”

Suddenly confused, she raises a brow, watching his expression change again —this time back to annoyance, prompting her to realize what he means. “Um, not exactly.”

“Not exactly? What do you mean not exactly?”

She opens her mouth to respond before closing it back up again, unsure how to explain the events she’s recently experienced without completely freaking him out. 

“Can I maybe come inside? We should probably talk.”

At first, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he just stands there, staring. His mind most likely reeling from the fact that his ex is now standing at his doorstep in the middle of the night, covered in shit, most likely preparing to tell him that the man she left with is still very much in the picture. 

None of which bodes well for her ever-growing fear of rejection. Especially considering that if the roles were reversed, she’d already be slamming the door in his face, telling him to piss off. So the fact that he hasn’t done that already feels like a bit of a miracle. One that continues to bless her once he eventually pulls away, motioning towards the inside of the house with a tired sigh. 

Awkwardly, she smiles in response and enters, taking in the familiar scenery. Feeling its presence hit her like a ton of bricks as she forces herself further inside, ignoring that knot again. Pushing whatever anxieties that spread through her in order to move to the dining room table and pull up a chair. 

“I’m sure you have a ton of questions…” 

Trailing off, she lets out a nervous laugh and begins to play with the end of her tail. All the while Vesryn just stands at the other end of the table, looking down at her like with such empty eyes that she can’t help but clear her throat and pivot. Opting to just ramble instead of waiting for an answer, knowing deep down he might not give her one. 

“First off, I need you to know I didn’t leave willingly.”

His brow quirks up at that. An air of interest coating his features, urging him to take a seat. “That’s an awfully vague way to start a story.” 

“I mean, I’m not trying to be vague,” she replies, suppressing the desire to roll her eyes. “Honestly, I just —I don’t really know how to explain what’s happened.”

“You don’t know how or you just don’t want to?” 

“Both, I suppose.”

All he does is snort and raise his hands to his face, dragging them down until they’re resting over his mouth, showcasing his never-ending lack of patience. “You’re aware of how late it is, right?”

This time she does roll her eyes. “My apologies sir, I didn’t realize I was being such a burden. Do you want me to go?” 

Out of habit she then goes to stand, prompting Vesryn to angrily grip her wrist. “Oh for fuck’s sake —would you please just sit down and tell me where you’ve been?”

Equally as angry, she swears at him under her breath before crossing her arms over her chest. Using the pressure to subdue the need to panic as she tries to collect her thoughts before ultimately ending up with, “Astarion and I were kidnapped.”

Almost immediately she can see the lack of interest in his eyes begin to develop. How they quickly start to glaze over at the mention of Astarion’s name, reminding her just how unenthusiastic he is to hear about him alongside what he assumes is some sort of excuse.

“Obviously, the details are a bit complicated but the gist of it is that we were taken by mind flayers and now we’re trying to find a cure,” she tells him, but again, all he does is stare, his gaze set directly against her’s —devoid of anything other than disinterest and doubt.

Once again, it makes her want to leave. To repeat time and storm out like she did all those weeks ago. As terrible as it sounds, she knows it’d at least get his attention. Maybe even stir him enough to actually listen to what she has to say without immediately discrediting the truth. 

“We met others on the ship. People infected like us. They’re in danger, Ves. I’m in danger.” 

“Aren’t you always?” 

“Not like this,” she tells him, swallowing hard. “Things are different. Bigger.”

He lets out a sigh. “Define big.” 

“The whole city going up in flames big.”

Shifting in his chair, she can tell he’s trying his best not to say what he really wants to. An act that simultaneously fills her with rage and relief as she watches him mull over her words, allowing them to fully sink in before humming in response. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. Explain to me how exactly you’re in danger?” 

Before she can even stop herself, Zayis is telling him everything. Relaying each point of the plot through nervous thoughts and shaking hands. Trying her best to allow enough time in between the more convoluted sections to really process the severity. 

And at first, it’s a struggle. Considering Vesryn’s almost as stubborn as she is, she can tell right off the bat it’s hard for him to accept. After having been convinced of this completely different narrative for so long, she can see it in his eyes he’s struggling to trust what she’s saying. To take all the outlandish things she’s relaying at face value after all the grief she’s put him through. 

But then about halfway through she notices the switch. That subtle moment of realization taking over, forcing him to listen. To hear all the stressors of the last few weeks repeatedly piling on top of her. To understand that the night she left without a trace wasn’t just the result of a conscious choice she had made but rather a mistake in location at the worst possible time. 

By the end of it, he’s got his arms across his chest, one of them angled up so that he can stroke his chin in bewilderment. “Gods, you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Fuck.” He shakes his head. 

In response, all Zayis does is shoot him a tight-lipped smile. One that feels so misplaced that it ends up falling almost immediately. “I just thought you should know, you know?”

“Know what?”

“That I didn’t walk out on you,” she admits, her throat aching from the explanation. “That I still care about you in some way.”

It’s at that point she can tell that Vesryn knows. Written plain as day across his face, she can feel it in her chest, too. Pounding against her already damaged frame. Echoing through the edges of her organs, causing them to twist in discomfort. 

Considering he’s always been a pretty intuitive guy, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to her but still, the second he eventually lets out a huff and awkwardly grins to himself, she can’t help but feel the guilt double in size. Triple even, watching the way he looks around the room, avoiding her pleading eyes. 

“Somehow I always knew,” he says, still smiling. Still shaking his head in protest, as if he can’t quite fully accept it. 

“I know.” 

“You just —you always talked about him, you know? Whether it was about his terrible personality or his disgusting behaviour, it was like his presence was constantly taunting me. Making me feel like the least interesting man in your life.”

“You weren’t—“

“I know,” he cuts her off with a raised hand. Something that would normally make her angry but right now just makes her confused. “It’s just… no matter how negatively you talked about him there was always this passion there. Like everything about him was actually worthy of conversation.” 

Letting out a dry laugh, he pauses to rub his face again, this time groaning through the process. “I guess, I just wanted you to talk about me like that. Just once so that I knew you weren’t getting tired of me.”

It’s at that moment Zayis feels her chest begin to break, the cavity of her ribcage splintering out to stab through her flesh. All at once, it hits the tenderest parts of her, ripping away what little composure she once had —filling her up with that same wave of emotion she’s been avoiding all this time. 

Leaning back in her chair, it immediately prompts her to blink back the threat of tears. As they begin to sting her eyes, she can’t help but focus on the pressure and how it weighs far more than it did when she first entered. How somehow, despite doing what she came here to do, this newfound information Vesryn provides just feels like another problem. Another issue added to the ongoing pile of things she needs to fix but doesn’t know how to. 

Which makes the once subdued panic inside her chest practically explode. Taking the form of shaking hands and shifting eyes, she can feel her breath start to quicken. The sudden lack of air located inside her chest making it difficult for her to breathe. 

Almost immediately Vesryn’s kneeling in front of her as it happens, taking her hands in his while looking up with concern. “It’s okay, Zay,” he tells her. “I’m okay.”

She doesn’t understand how it could be —how he could be after all that she’s done to him. Having fucked off without a single goodbye he should be the wreck who sits at the table, looking like a broken vessel with nothing else to give. The one who mourns for a life they could’ve possibly had if not for bad timing or poor communication or—

“I forgive you, yeah?” 

His voice is soft. A caress of sound that only further fuels her tears, realizing it’s her who’s crumbling. The one who’s broken and tired, unsure whether or not to let this go in favour of pursuing something new. 

“Why?”

“Because I do?” He shrugs. “I don’t know —does there have to be a reason?”

Before coming here she would’ve said no and called it a day. But now that she’s in front of him, debating whether or not she should fight for a second chance, she needs it. More than anything she’s ever needed in her life, she’s willing to demand it if she has to. 

Sensing this, all Vesryn does is sigh. Offering her a subtle nod, he then moves to stand while holding her head, allowing his fingers to gently push against the crown of her skull to calm her down. 

“Once you left I think I realized we were only together because it was familiar,” he says, and immediately she knows he’s right because, near the end, it was as if they were nothing more than two people sharing a space. 

Allowing the convenience of their arrangement to take over, no longer was there that initial spark they once had as kids. The one that drove them to care and want and grow. And because of that, by the time the kidnapping happened, it was obvious that they were well on their way to this same ending.

“I'm sorry, Ves.” 

Before she can even think she’s reaching for his torso, pressing her face against the side of his ribs as she wraps herself around. An act he responds to by hugging her shoulder with one arm, once again telling her it’s okay. 

“I promise we’ll make it out the other side,” he tells her, and somehow despite the cloud of doubt that seems to always circle her head as of late, she believes him. Feeling the truth of his words remind her that even though they’re not the same as they once were, that doesn’t necessarily mean that they can’t still be there for one another. 

“Gods, I hope you’re right because I really don’t think I have the mental capacity to become a mind flayer right now.” 

Somehow that comment manages to break the ice, causing both of them to grin as Vesryn rolls his eyes. “What? Not a fan of tentacles?”

All she does is scrunch up her face. 

“Oh c’mon! Might be fun!” 

“Define fun.” 

Peeling himself away, he wanders over to the kitchen and grabs a bottle off the shelf, placing it in front of Zayis before retreating back to his chair with a shrug. “I don’t know. Don’t they control people with their minds?” 

Almost immediately she reaches for the vessel in front of her, pulling out the cork with a loud pop!

“Sure, but they also eat brains which I’m not necessarily fond of,” she explains, taking a sip of the undisclosed liquid, feeling it burn the second it hits her tongue. 

“I mean, bit of brains never hurt anyone. Especially not you.” 

As she finishes sipping, she shoots him an unimpressed look. One that eventually makes the both of them laugh, prompting her chest to tighten. Her body somehow reminding itself of how easy things used to be.

“I swear if I do turn into a mind flayer you’re the first on my list of brains to eat.” 

“Really? Not the vampire?”

His voice is unnaturally smug as he says it. So much so that she’s almost a little surprised, watching the way he cocks his brow and reaches across the table to take a quick sip of his own. 

“How is he doing anyways?” 

“A bit forward, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Last I heard though, you’re on borrowed time.” 

Pressing her lips together, she realizes then that he’s right. Now that they’re back in Baldur’s Gate it’s only a matter of time before they have to face their problem head on. A detail she hadn’t quite grasped yet, having been focused on getting here first. 

“He’s fine.”

Without warning Vesryn pushes the bottle across the table, smirking. “Just fine, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Not good? Great? Absolutely per—“

“He’s good,” she practically snaps, taking the few silent beats that pass to down a good portion of their drink.

“That’s good.” Nodding his head, he watches her take a few more sips, forcing back an obviously shit-eating grin. “Treating you well, I hope?”

He waves his hand through the air dramatically and immediately Zayis can’t help but groan and take another sip. Letting the liquid distract her from the roaming thoughts that keep entering her mind —forcing her to remember Astarion’s face and how unimpressed it looked when she left camp.

Somehow it makes her miss him. Despite knowing that she’ll return to his side amongst the others by the time the sun rises, there’s a brief moment where she’s staring at Vesryn that makes her panic. An almost anxious jolt of electricity firing through her nerve endings, causing her to twitch unfortunately in her chair. 

“He’s alright, I guess,” she ends up saying. “Still annoying as ever.”

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.”

“I’m sure you’d be surprised now, too.”

“What do you mean?”

At first, she isn’t sure what she means. But then she narrows her eyes and thinks really hard for a second, uncovering the truth. “He’s actually, uh, kind of sweet sometimes.”

“Really?”

Almost immediately, the simple confession takes both of them back, prompting Zayis to clear her throat and continue to drink, feeling her head whirl from the volume of liquor she’s managed to consume over the last few minutes; honing in on the sudden interest in Vesryn’s eyes.

“Can you please stop looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re fishing for something.” 

Suddenly defensive, he scoffs and motions for her to hand over the bottle. “I’m not fishing for anything.” 

“Oh please, don’t think I don’t remember how gossipy of a bitch you are.”

All he does is smile, causing her to pinch the bridge of her nose and breathe, trying her best to remain calm. Because foolishly, now that she’s opened the can of worms that is Astarion, it’s like the man’s completely taken over. Seamlessly appearing in every corner of her exhausted mind, she can’t help but wonder how he’d react to this conversation.

Already she can hear him chastising her for skimping out on the details. Having practically memorized the inflections of his voice after years of endurance, she can clearly envision that cheeky little laugh of his. And how the way his hand might feel pressed against her cheek, taking in the frustrated expression that now coats her face.

The same one Vesryn immediately comments on. Pointing in amusement, he ends up asking her why she looks like that, causing her to cross her arms over her chest and shake her head, too stubborn to reveal the truth. 

“I see you're as emotionally distant as ever.” 

As he speaks, Vesryn just shoots her a knowing glance and slides their shared drink back to her. Barely batting an eye when she takes a few more angry sips.

“Am not.” 

“And childish.” 

For a moment she thinks about repeating history and grabbing the knife from her holster. But then she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, forcing herself to calm down just as Vesryn laughs. 

“Shut up. You’re just saying that so you can get me to talk.”

“Is it working?”

Whether it’s the challenging way he approaches the topic or the familiarity of his presence, it unfortunately is. More so than she cares to admit as she rolls her eyes, opting to avoid the topic by asking him what he’s been up to. Forcing the conversation to pivot as she continues to drink, listening to all the mundane stories of their old life. All the jobs he’s taken and how he’s kept himself busy while she’s been saving the coast. 

And for a while, it’s kind of nice focusing on something else. Something simple and disconnected from the reality that she now finds herself in. So much so that she doesn’t even register the empty bottle now in front of her after Vesryn changes the topic again. This time transitioning to her friends. 

“You said that Ravengard kid was with you?”

Nodding her head, she then feels the entire room begin to spin around her. Echoing out in a series of waves, it’s as if everything’s begun to slow down. Her mind working to catch up with the rest of her surroundings. Somehow it makes her laugh despite how uncomfortable it is. The kind that Vesryn immediately clocks as an indication of her inebriation, making him sigh. 

“Probably shouldn’t have let you drink all that, huh?”

She hums in response and closes her eyes, feeling the weight of everything slowly drift away as her body starts to melt further into the chair. 

“How about I go make you a bed?” 

“No.”

“No?”

She blinks and laughs, forcing her eyes to focus on her friend. “I want to go home.”

“You are home?”

She shakes her head almost violently. “No, home.” 

He doesn’t know that home means camp. Or, more specifically, that home to her is where Astarion is. Nor does he understand the jumble of words that fall from her mouth immediately after. “Zayis, you are way too drunk to be arguing right now.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying!”

He can’t help but laugh as he stands up, moving towards her to help pull her to her feet. “Saying what?”

“I want to see Fangs,” she whines, and before she knows it she’s being guided towards the door by her old flame’s hands without another word. Tiredly leaning against his shoulder as they walk down the darkened street.

“Where am I taking you?”

Through slurred speech she directs him to her camp, explaining the quickest route with the kind of drunken hand gestures Vesryn can’t help but mock. 

“Shut up, I’m drunk.” 

“I can tell.”

“And I’m tired.” 

“No kidding.”

“I think I might be in love, too.”

At that Vesryn stops walking, causing her to sort of bump into his arm and swear under her breath, grumbling about his lack of coordination before the words she’s uttered circle back to her. Forcing her eyes to widen as her stomach starts to twist, realizing what she’s done. Registering the fact that she just admitted out loud that her feelings are valid and not just ridiculous moments of lust clouding her vision.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Despite the context, Vesryn can’t help but laugh, watching as Zayis begins to breathe with her entire chest. The fabric of her tunic rising and falling in rapid succession as her eyes dart back and forth. 

“I think I’m in love with Astarion,” she then says before slamming her lips shut, feeling her face grow hot and her hands begin to sweat. Every part of her body working against her as she suddenly bolts down the street, listening to Vesryn’s footsteps work to keep up. 

“Wait a minute, how long has this been going on?”

Unsurprisingly, Zayis ignores him, swearing under her breath when she comes to a street she doesn’t notice, forcing Vesryn to grab her arm and redirect her. 

“Do you think he loves you back?”

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?”  

She repeats the same answer in frustration, throwing her hands up to cover her eyes, knowing now she’s fucked. Completely and totally fucked because despite knowing how foolish it is to fall in love with someone like Astarion she’s managed to do just that.

“Okay, well do you want to know?”

He asks the question like it’s a simply gained answer. As if asking Astarion about his feelings is something Zayis can do without feeling humiliated.

Because truthfully, she knows if asked, not only would she be met with that teasing voice of Astarion telling her I told you so regardless of the answer, but she’d also be forced to live with the fact that Vesryn was right all along.

“Can we please talk about something else?”

Quickening her pace, she can feel her legs begin to ache from the events of the day. All of the hours of travelling and fighting piling onto her weakened knees as she pushes forward. 

Watching her struggle, Vesryn follows behind almost cautiously, trying his best not to hover while remaining close. Well aware at any second she might just fall to the ground thanks to the alcohol. 

“I think maybe we should just get you home, yeah? I’m sure your boyfriend is worried sick.” 

Before he can even laugh at his poorly timed joke she’s turning to swing her fist at his head, causing him to grab her wrist in annoyance.

“C’mon Punchy, let’s not keep your leech waiting.”

Frowning in response she allows him then to guide her the rest of the way. Keeping his arm loosely wrapped around her shoulder for support, she dizzily latches onto his side, resting her head against his chest. Trying her best to ignore the sickness that resides at the base of her stomach as they continue forward, eventually making it to camp. 

“You know, this isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

While glaring at Vesryn she can feel her head begin to pound. The space behind her eyes where the tadpole resides ringing out in a painful rhythm of words. All of them loud and irate, saying something she can’t quite understand.

At which point she begins to descend without warning, causing Vesryn to swear and catch her arm, watching anxiously as she moves one hand to her temple.

“Zay?”

When she doesn’t immediately respond he maneuvers her to the ground, kneeling in front of her with nervous hands to hold her face, searching for further signs of distress until she’s completely still again. 

“Sorry, that uh, happens sometimes.”

“What?”

“The tadpoles,” she mumbles, brushing his hands away to rub her eyes, feeling the pain still linger behind them but at a much smaller scale. “Sometimes when one of us gets a bit emotional or something they…” 

As she trails off with a yawn she attempts to mime the word connection by pressing her index fingers together in front of her. A motion Vesryn thankfully understands, nodding his head in response. 

“We don’t—“

The sound of a clearing throat pulls her away from the conversation. Her eyes shifting from Vesryn’s face towards a very pissed-off Astarion now standing in front of them with his hands on his hips. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

Instantly, both she and Vesryn jump to speak, their voices fumbling over each other until Zayis eventually turns back and frowns, prompting Vesryn to innocently raise his hands and stand up. 

“Ves was just bringing me home.”

“At this hour?” Astarion asks, his voice lower than normal. Angrier even. A rumble of sound emanating from his chest as he crouches down to face her —instantly smelling the drink on her breath. “Wait a minute, you’re drunk.”

“Am not,” she slurs, grinning. Expecting him to grin back or crack some sort of joke. Not shift his jaw and stand as he does, moving towards Vesryn faster than she can think to blink. 

“I always knew you were an idiot,” she hears him say, watching him reach for Vesryn’s clothes. Gripping the collar of his shirt with such ferocity that the only sound that Zayis hears after that is the sudden groan her old partner lets out.

Which makes her panic, realizing then that Astarion isn’t just pissed —he’s livid. Red not only in the eyes but also in the face, prompting her to try and stand up only to fall back down thanks to the lightness that travels throughout her head.

“What’d you do to her, huh? Get her drunk and then take advantage of her?”

Trying but ultimately failing to speak over Astarion’s angered assumptions, Zayis eventually opts to reach for the fabric of his pants instead. Pulling at the base of his calf to gain his attention, muttering his name through the mess of sounds until she’s been ushered to her feet by a pair of arms.

“I see the apology’s going well,” Wyll says, and immediately she whips her head to face him in response, taking in the humoured expression across his face before turning back to see the two men being ripped away from each other by Karlach’s brute force. Both of them continuing their attempts at violence. 

“This isn’t how we treat our guest, Fangs,” Karlach scolds, but Astarion’s already cursing Vesryn’s name. Using whatever insult he can think of to throw the poor man’s way. Ignoring Karlach’s plea for him to shut up even when she threatens to knock him out cold if he doesn’t behave.

Which only causes more issues when the rest of the camp begins to realize what’s going on. All of them piling out of their tents to watch this ridiculous display of angry men fighting over an issue neither of them really have much control over. Considering Zayis is drunk and now grumbling into the crook of Wyll’s neck trying her best not to cry at the sight of Karlach shoving Astarion towards Lae’zel, it’s obvious that the best thing to do is drop it. 

Or at least, put a pin in it until morning. Which is exactly what Gale suggests when he wanders towards Lae’zel’s side, smirking at their not-so-friendly vampire before making some sort of backhanded compliment that has Astarion lunging towards him with a hiss. 

“Alright, alright. No need to maim the wizard,” Gale mutters, darting back. “I’m just here for the show not to get roped into any audience participation.” 

After that, Zayis hears Wyll sigh in defeat as he runs his palm along the length of his face, trying his best to comfort her as she continues to wrap herself around him, digging her claws into his clothes while her tail grips tightly onto his legs. 

“I think we should probably get her some water,” he says, prompting Shadowheart to move towards Vesryn, placing a hand on his shoulder as she asks him if he needs any healing.

While shaking his head he ends up glancing over at Zayis who already looks like she’s dead to the world. Still grumbling incoherently under her breath, it’s as if her mind has been turned to sludge as Wyll drags her over to the fire, placing her gently on the ground. Practically forcing a stream’s worth of water down her throat by the time Shadowheart wanders over, casting whatever restoration magic she’s got left. 

“That fool of yours is lucky Karlach showed up when she did,” she mutters, moving to place either hand on Zayis’s face. Allowing the magic to spread through her cheeks like an icy veil, wrapping around heated flesh. Providing the perfect amount of relief for the tadpole behind her eye to settle back into its dormant state. 

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Karlach’s taking him home.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Zayis continues to drink through the process. Feeling the water soothe her aching throat as Shadowheart continues to speak, scolding her for being so stupid. 

“Gods, I can’t believe you let him get you drunk.”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” Zayis snaps, her eyes narrowing in annoyance, watching as her two friends share an unimpressed look. “I got nervous.” 

“And drank an entire bar?”

For some reason that makes Wyll snort, prompting Zayis to reach out and yank his horn, causing the warlock to groan and swat her away. “Hey! She’s right, you know!”

Regardless of whether or not they are, Zayis opts to go silent after. Sitting angrily between the two of them, she lets Shadowheart finish her spell before muttering out a quiet thanks. The kind that Shadowheart almost immediately reciprocates with an unenthusiastic no problem before retreating to her tent. Leaving just herself and Wyll to stew in the awkward silence of her actions as she continues to sip her water. Paying no mind to the curious eyes that dart between the camp and her face, picking apart the expressions that absentmindedly shift the longer she sits.  

“So, uh, do you want to talk about what happened or would you rather wallow?” 

Earning no response, Wyll sighs, prompting Zayis to look over with a frown. Both of them staring at each other, wishing that she’d just come out and say whatever needs to be said instead of rotting away, pretending like her actions are something other than self-inflicted wounds. 

“I promise no judgement, you know.” 

“I know. I’m just —I think I should probably talk to him first.” 

“Not sure he’s interested in talking.” 

Zayis snorts out of habit, moving a hand to rub her eyes, feeling her head swirl. “Fair. I probably wouldn’t want to talk to me either.”

“I’m sure if you give him time,” Wyll suggests, and even though she knows he’s right all she can feel is the lack of patience beginning to settle in. The undeniable urge to jump to her feet and run to his side almost doubling on impact. The temptation to confess all the thoughts that have plagued her mind over the last few weeks making their presence known.

It forces her to chug a few more glasses of water in silence. Trying her best to remain as rational as possible. Or at least, until she’s able to fully stabilize her thoughts in the form of a pros and cons list that Wyll almost immediately interrupts. 

“I know you say you are, but are you truly alright?”

At first, she doesn’t have an answer. Too focused on trying to figure out whether it’s a pro or a con to storm into Astarion’s tent, she hardly registers the words. Instead finding herself at a mental crossroads, debating the level of sobriety needed to confess one’s love before it becomes insulting. But then her mind catches up. Slowly but surely taking in the words. Feeling the genuine curiosity in his voice sound almost paranormal. As if he’s already used the tadpole to burrow into her mind and find the answer for himself.

Not that he’d need to, to know that she’s the opposite of alright. 

Even before arriving, she’d been on the absolute edge of sanity. Struggling to choose which battle to tackle first, since entering the walls of Baldur’s Gate it’s felt like she’s been pulled every which way. Slowly becoming stretched to the point of ripping. 

Which she wants to admit. But thanks to the guardedness of her brain, all she’s able to say is that she’s tired. That the well within her soul has sufficiently dried up leaving nothing more than a hole in the ground, waiting for its fill once again. 

With a sigh, Wyll slides a little closer and nudges her leg, offering support in whatever way he can as she glances at him, silently pleading for advice. 

“You need to rest, Zay.”

Genuinely curious, she looks at him with half-lidded eyes. The glassy look of drunkenness still heavily visible. “How?”

“By allowing your problems to run their course rather than trying to direct them yourself.”

Leaning forward, she groans into her hands. The emptiness of her head making it hard for her to understand the riddles Wyll often speaks in. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

Letting out a soft laugh, his hand finds its way to one of her horns to reciprocate that same push from earlier, forcing her to grumble under her breath. 

“It means you should go to bed.”

Groaning in response, she debates whether or not to argue, feeling her eyes shift towards Astarion’s tent —feeling that inevitable pull behind her eye, begging for her to curl up against his frame regardless of whatever fight might unfold. 

“Okay. But not because you told me too,” she eventually says, and Wyll just smiles and ushers her to her feet, forcing one final glass of water into her hand. 

“One more for the road, okay?”

All she does is nod her head and slowly make her way towards the tent. Staring intensely at the ground beneath her, she maneuvers around roots and rocks, trying her best not to let the remnants of leftover inebriation overtake her ability to function. 

Which proves easy up until she makes it to the tent. Feeling her vision shift in and out of focus as she attempts to push open the flap, there’s a moment where she sways back and has to catch herself, causing her lips to part into an awkward squeal. 

“What the hells are you doing?” Astarion says, and before she can even think to correct her footing she’s somehow pressed against his chest with her glass of water nowhere to be seen. Her body suddenly feeling warm thanks to the way his hands snake around her waist, tightly gripping the flesh beneath her shirt. Reminding her that despite the intimate position she finds herself in, he’s definitely still unimpressed. 

“How come you’re mad?” 

His eyes narrow, becoming two thin slits of rage that successfully scare her into submission, prompting her to swallow hard and sit up on her knees, feeling his hands tighten even more. “Are you seriously asking me that?” 

Following her lead, he forces himself to release her waist in order to lean into her, practically pressing his forehead against hers. “I mean, honestly, do you have any sense of self-preservation or do you just choose to act like an idiot?”

Immediately she blinks, processing his words. Marinating in the meaning until she fully understands. “You know, Vesryn isn’t an enemy —he’s a friend.”

“I’d argue otherwise, but I suppose your choice in friends has always been questionable.” 

Feeling the liquor rush through her system, she quickly reaches out to grab his shoulder, steadying herself against the sway that overtakes. Fully pressing her forehead against his despite wanting nothing more than to wrap her hand around his skinny little neck and—

“You didn’t tell me you were going to see him.”

Her mouth opens to respond —to tell him that it doesn’t matter— but then she stops, pulling away to explore the hurt expression across his face. Specifically the focused look within his eyes that fail to falter for even a second. 

“I didn’t think I had to.” 

“I suppose you don’t but—” 

“But what then?”

“But a courtesy would’ve been nice,” he practically snaps. “Or a simple warning at the very least —I think I deserve at least that.”

She looks at him confused then. Unsure what exactly he means, her lips part to ask, watching as his expression slowly matches hers. Both of them staring in anticipation for an answer that never comes. 

“You know I just went there to talk, right?” Her voice struggles through the fog that hits her head, causing her to frequently pause between words. “I didn’t go there to do whatever it is you’re…”

Trailing off, she wiggles her fingers, trying her best to insinuate that whatever assumptions he has are wrong. And that he’s being stupid, but she’s too drunk to incorporate that accordingly. 

So instead, she just settles for the former, watching the way his nose scrunches up, pulling at his upper lip to reveal the tips of his fangs. An expression that makes her wonder if maybe her words aren’t matching up with her thoughts, prompting her to sigh and move her hands to her face. 

“Fuck, I’m too drunk for this.” 

“Yeah, that’s becoming apparent.” 

For some reason that makes her laugh weakly. “I just… I don’t want to fight anymore. Not for this.”

“Then what do you want to fight for?” 

Pushing her hands further into the sockets of her eyes, she feels her head pound in frustration. All of her thoughts piling to the forefront of her mind, screaming at her to settle this once and for all. To tell him that she doesn’t want to fight anymore. To say that, instead of pressing their knives to each other’s throats time and time again, all she wants to do is toss them aside and kiss the scars they’ve inflicted. 

But because she’s drunk —because she can’t think without the whole process becoming far more difficult than it should be— all she does is move into him. Allowing her body to speak for itself in the form of a desperate hug, she wraps her arms around his shoulder before he guides her down into the bedroll. 

“Alright, easy does it, darling,” Astarion grumbles, his angered tone failing to match the sweetness of his words, prompting Zayis to frown and turn her back to him. 

“Don’t call me that. I’m mad at you.” 

“Since when?”

“Since you decided to be mad at me for no reason,” she says, causing Astarion to huff as he begins to run his fingers through the roots of her hair —feeling the familiar presence of her tail slowly wrap around his thigh. 

“Once again, I’d argue such a statement but clearly you’re too far gone to be able to defend yourself.” 

“Fuck you, I can do anything.”

“Agree to disagree.” 

“Agree to —shut up, Astarion.” 

Releasing a heavy sigh, he reluctantly continues his ministrations despite the abuse. Pressing the pads of his fingers deeply into the base of her skull. 

“Go to sleep, Zay. We can fight in the morning.”

In response, she grumbles out in protest. Ultimately failing to convey her disinterest as his fingers lower to the back of her head, following the line of her braid until he hits the end and begins to undo it. Then, with careful hands he works his way back up, feeling her slowly drift beneath his touch.

“Gods, sometimes I wonder if loving you is even worth the headache,” he tells her, unaware of the sliver of consciousness that manages to linger. Even when she nervously stirs at his words, wondering if she heard him correctly. 

Because there’s no way he loves her, right? Too focused on what he gains from being around her rather than her herself, there’s not a single chance he cares. That’d be impossible. Unthinkable. An admittance so beyond logic that as she lays there, eyes shut tight, she has to force herself to ignore it. To chalk his strange confession up to the liquor poisoning her mind with outlandish thoughts. 

Which thankfully isn’t hard given how drunk she still is. In fact, with very little effort, it only takes a few minutes of Astarion’s fingers moving through her hair to fully render her useless. Her body curling under the blanket, unaware of the restlessness Astarion experiences as the hours pass. Oblivious to the fact that, even before she wakes up, he’s already gone. 

Becoming nothing more than a vacant space that leaves her confused when she eventually rolls over hours later, groaning at the pain that rips through her skull, remembering everything that happened. Specifically, the words he may have said to her last night —the ones so far from reality that she can’t help but wonder if it was merely just a figment of her imagination. 

Hearing them echo in her mind, she palms the sockets of her eyes and sits up, feeling the aches and pains of the previous hours seep into her bones. Taking refuge in her muscles to the point that not even she can deny how much of a struggle it is to crawl around the sun-kissed tent, searching for the cup of water Wyll gave her last night before downing it in one huge gulp. 

Unsurprisingly it feels like a gift from every God combined. A blessing of liquid that provides her with enough energy to shakily crawl through the opening of the tent, squinting at the newfound light that hits her face.

Somehow it’s already sunrise. Even though it felt like she was maybe asleep for a couple of minutes, it’s obvious now that she got at least a few hours in. Something she’s thankful for as she wanders over to the pile of supplies by the put-out fire, rooting through the various bags until she finds a canteen of water. 

At which point she begins to drink and aimlessly walk, forcing her tired legs to move through the length of the camp and past the tree line, weaving through the obstacles of nature until she’s standing at the edge of a hill. 

Looking up, there’s a moment or two where she debates turning back. But then her body starts to move without warning, pushing her further and further past the threshold of capability she should have after a night of heavy drinking and emotional warfare. Disregarding the burn that envelops practically every fibre of her being until she hits the top.

Then she’s doubling over in pain, on the verge of tears, feeling the desire to give up filter through her determination, making her second guess her actions until she hears someone huff. 

“You look like a corpse,” Astarion says. “And not a fresh one either.”

Forcing out a laugh, she squints to see him sitting on a stump a few feet away with a mug of tea in his hand —another at his side like always. “Morning to you, too.” 

“Morning.”

His voice is quiet as he turns to look at the rising sun. Ignoring her as she moves toward him, taking the cup that rests beside him into her hands before she sits in its place. “Thanks.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he just sips the tea and continues to soak in the light as he often does. Paying no mind to Zayis as she takes a sip of her own, staring at the side of his face.

“Did you rest at all?”

All he does is shake his head. 

“When did you leave?”

“Not long after you fell asleep.” 

Humming in response, she turns away to look at the sky herself, allowing her mind to drift to last night. Hearing that single word uttered over and over again in her mind until it doesn’t sound like a word at all. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.” 

Releasing an annoyed breath, she takes another sip before she continues. “Always does, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

After that, she sees him sort of smirk against the edge of his cup, prompting her to quietly groan and ditch the idea altogether. Feeling the walls of her heart begin to make their way up again —discarding whatever idea might’ve crossed her mind to even think about letting them down in the first place. 

Something Astarion immediately notices. Having failed to ask her question, he quickly turns to face her, exploring her features —noticing the sudden lack of curiosity that immediately befalls her face. “That’s it then?”

“What?”

“No question? No pretty little morning argument?”

She looks at him confused, her jaw dropping slightly open. 

“Not even a single threat relating to bodily harm?”

“I—“

“My, my, have you gone soft or something, darling?” he asks; his tone changing. Morphing to have this venomous quality, Zayis immediately scoffs at. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns away, pretending like there’s no reasoning behind his words. Acting as if there's no fight to pick despite there very clearly being one.

“You know, if you have a problem with my behaviour you can just come out and say it instead of waiting for me to figure it out myself.” 

In response, he lets out quite possibly the fakest laugh she’s ever heard. “I could. Though, we both know that even if you did figure it out, you wouldn’t talk about it anyway. You don’t do emotions.”

“Neither do you.”

“Actually I—“

Without warning she stands up to chuck the mug over the edge of the hill, groaning from the pain of her muscles —trying her best to ignore the way they pull in strange ways as she turns to glare in his direction. “No, you know what? You don’t get to act like an asshole just because you’re mad that I didn’t tell you I was seeing Vesryn!”

“Oh, please, I’m not mad about that!” Standing up, he discards his mug on the stump and takes a step forward. Inserting himself into her space, watching her follow his lead until they’re practically nose to nose. “What I’m mad at is your lack of attention —for your inability to look around and see what you so clearly deserve!”

“Deserve?” Pressing a rough hand to his chest, she forces him back only to step forward, watching his eyes narrow in annoyance —his hands darting out to grip her wrists once she’s close enough. “You think this mistreatment is what I deserve?”

As she struggles against his hold, both of them bare their teeth in frustration. Neither one of them willing to admit their respective thoughts until Astarion’s eventually the first to cave, growling under his breath.

“No, but sometimes I think you believe that,” he says, his voice lowering. The sound of it reverberating through his chest like an avalanche Zay can’t help but stand at the bottom of, wondering when she’ll inevitably perish beneath it. 

Because that’s what it feels like sometimes, being around him. Oftentimes while attempting to navigate all the feelings that erupt each time he picks a fight, she has to hear things she doesn’t want to. To listen to the truth time and time again, despite wanting nothing more than to run from it. Almost every time it makes her breathless, hearing the way he picks her soul apart each time she gives him the chance. Feeling fine one moment and lost the next as he continues to speak. 

“Is that why you won’t talk to me? Why, despite all the times I’ve confided in you, you refuse to offer the same in return? Because you’re punishing yourself?”

Taking it all in, her gaze flickers down to his hands, watching them slip up her wrists, slowly moving to turn her palms to the sky so that he can gently rest his own on top. Inhaling deeply, it’s as if the weight of them are suddenly all over her body. Pressing roughly against her chest and arms —grabbing hold of her feet so that they keep her in place despite wanting nothing more than to run. To swallow whatever pride she has left and disappear for good. 

To pretend like he isn’t working up to some huge confession despite wanting nothing more.  

“Zayis?”

“What?”

She doesn’t mean to snap. But regardless, the word comes out like a bite, latching onto his throat. The tips of them diving into his flesh before he can even think to recoil. 

It makes him falter for a second. The entirety of his body twitching against the rise of her voice before he eventually puffs back up again, sighing so hard the only thing she feels afterward is the echo of his breath. 

“Gods, for once will you just fucking talk to me?” he then pleads, gripping the base of her fingers so tightly she ends up wincing. “Please.” 

“What do you want me to say, Astarion? That I’m punishing myself because I’m scared?”

“If that’s the reason, yes!”

“And what if I don’t know the reason?”

“Then—“

Suddenly, she rips her hands from his to move them to her face, pressing the pads of her fingers roughly against her temples. Shakily circling the flesh as she heavily exhales, trying to collect her thoughts as he takes another step forward, tugging her close by the waist. Forcing his fingers beneath the hem of her untucked shirt. 

“Tell me then. Are you punishing yourself because you feel guilty for what you’ve done? Or are you punishing me because the mere thought of either of us deserving each other is too much to bear?” 

It’s the kind of question that has her fearing for her life. Regardless of how many enemies she’s fought over the past few weeks. As she stares into Astarion’s eyes, watching the deep red rings nearly disappear behind narrowed lids, she has to force herself to stay. Knowing that if she doesn’t, she’ll just wind up back where she started: all alone, wishing just once she could have something real.

Because with Vesryn, it never was. Despite the adoration that still presents itself each time they’re together, that’s all it ever really grew to become. Two people admiring each other for reasons unrelated to love. Not people who fought tooth and nail just to earn the bare minimum. People who, despite everyone telling them to quit while they’re ahead, continued to choose each other above all else. 

Which makes looking at Astarion that much harder. As he bears his soul in his own way, asking her for something in return, it makes her realize that the reason she fears so much isn’t because she feels guilty for abandoning Vesryn but because she fears the judgement of it. Always self-critical of her own actions thanks to the scrutiny of her upbringing, it’s hard to look at what’s in front of her and not assume the worst. Considering they already bring out the worst in each other pretty much constantly, it’s obvious there’s always been some reservations. Despite being fully aware of their similarities and the chemistry that presents itself when needed, at all times there always seems to be a voice at the back of her mind telling her she’s stupid for thinking things might work out.

Because honestly, it probably won’t. Not with the way Astarion’s looking at her with those eyes or the way he’s practically clawing at her hips, begging for her to stay. Coaxing her into this false world where the two of them fall in love and get the happy ending neither of them really deserves. 

It isn’t realistic. Or truthful in any way, which is why when she speaks she doesn't lie or even coat the truth in honeyed words. 

“I don’t feel guilty,” she starts, dropping her hands to gently hold the crook of his elbows —feeling her tail follow behind and absentmindedly slink around his waist. “Ves and I —we weren’t good together.”

“Why?”

She looks away, pursing her lips as he nudges her closer. Pulling her eyes back in almost immediately. Keeping her there with him no matter what. “We never had this.”

“And what is this?”

“Lust? Love? I don’t...”

Trailing off, she shakes her head and closes her eyes, hearing that voice inside her head telling her this is wrong. That he and her and everything shared over the last few weeks has been nothing but a ploy. A tactic used to get what he needs out of her before he—

He interrupts her thoughts by grabbing her chin. Running his thumb along the space just below her lip, he then cocks his head and sort of smiles. “This isn’t just lust, you know,” he tells her, and suddenly it’s like she’s back at the tiefling party again, catching his gaze between moments of mingling, unable to deny the mutual attraction as he inevitably flirts his way beneath her clothes.

“It isn’t?”

Softly, his finger rises to touch her lower lip. Pulling it down ever so slightly, she sees his lips part into a toothy grin that has her heavily breathing, wondering if this is it. The moment she completely falls apart into his arms with no escape plan. The one where he says those magic little words and she falls headfirst into the palm of his hand.

“Not anymore.”

“Then… what is it now?” 

Whether it’s because he doesn’t know or he wasn’t expecting her to ask, Astarion’s rendered speechless. With his mouth partially open in surprise, not a sound comes out once the question is asked, prompting Zayis’s stomach to twist into knots so far beyond untangling that she honestly feels like she might pass out. 

Because of the sheer anticipation alone, she’s already struggling to breathe. Feeling her lungs begin to cave under the pressure of his silence, she finds herself acting before thinking. Moving before speaking. Granting herself the chance to take matters into her own hands as they rise to cup his cheeks. 

Beneath her fingertips, he feels colder than she remembers. Stinging her digits like slabs of carved-out ice, she lets her thumbs trail over the peaks and valleys of his face —exploring the highest points of his cheekbones down to the hollowness of his under-eyes. Memorizing every part with careful hands. Watching his expression change as she begins to lean in, bumping the tip of her nose against his before letting out the shakiest breath that’s probably ever existed. 

“Well, whatever it is, I hope it’s worth the headache,” she then says, feeling his hand slip from her chin to wrap around the back of her head. Both of them moving in to cross the one boundary that’s never been crossed. Neither of them caring that in the process their fangs knock haphazardly together before quickly finding their rhythm. 

Which surprises her if she’s honest. After always feeling like they’re on opposing sides, for a moment it doesn’t make much sense to her. As his lips gently shift to slot themselves against hers, it shouldn’t feel this perfect. It should be difficult like everything else. A battle of power and tension. Not easy. Not like she’s breathing or walking or driving a knife into someone’s chest. 

No, it should be harder than this. More complicated. A process so painstakingly awful that her mind should be telling her it isn’t worth it and run.

Except she can’t, can she? Not when his hands feel like they’re moulded to her frame —how his palms seem to rest perfectly against her head and hip, still pulling her in. All while slowly devouring her mouth with careful nips and licks that have her practically clawing for more. Her hands exploring his neck and hair, unable to choose which spot to settle into. 

It makes him grin against her, prompting her to frown in response, not sure why he finds the act so funny. Or why he ends up pulling away so quickly afterward, brushing away loose hairs that have fallen in front of her face. 

“Bit rude of you to throw my own words back in my face like that.” 

Almost angrily she reaches down to grip the collar of his shirt, attempting to shut him up with another kiss but failing when he grabs her wrist. 

“Greedy little thing.”

“Shut up.” 

In response, he hums in amusement and leans in to graze her ear with his lips. “One taste and you’re already begging for more, hm?”

“Gods, you’re insufferable.” 

“And you’re just pathetic, aren’t you?”

His lips peel into a smirk that has her angrily maneuvering him back to her mouth, digging her fingers into the roots of his hair as well as his shirt —ignoring the way he laughs through another hum while giving in. 

A laugh that has her heart foolishly swelling against her ribcage, threatening to burst as he begins to drag her down towards the ground, neither one of them caring how the dirt instantly clings to their clothes or how itchy the grass feels against their exposed skin, because right now, all they care about is this. These somewhat tender moments spent discarding shirts and pants —both of them awkwardly laughing through the mess of limbs that bump against each other in the process.

Somehow, all of it feels too good to be true. Having waited years to properly feel his hands trailing up the length of her spine and his teeth nipping at her flesh as she rests on top, it feels like a projection of her desires come to life. The way he palms the back of her head, guiding his mouth to a particularly supple part of her neck. 

It immediately makes her eyes flutter shut, waiting for the moment he decides to strike. Becoming nothing more than teeth and hands working to take their fill. As she lies on top of him, breathing so hard she’s certain she's probably damaged her lung in the process, she can feel his tongue teasing the area. Poking out to coat her skin in saliva before he presses another opened-mouth kiss and pulls away.

“Can I?” he asks, and before she can even think she’s nodding mindlessly. Allowing whatever he wants to happen because the fight’s died out. Whatever need she once had to hold power over him lost the moment he smiles and kisses her lips, sucking away her air before he does the same with her blood.

At which point she’s almost certain she’s going to pass out. With the lack of oxygen and now that familiar pain plunging into the side of her neck, it’s a miracle that she’s still able to stabilize her body. As he begins to push in, she can’t help but jump from the contact, realizing how different it feels in comparison to something like her wrist. 

Because despite having experienced the sharpness of his teeth followed by the languid lapping of his tongue against far less intimate places, this feels completely different. More euphoric and intense —something she has to push through as the pain begins to meld into pleasure as the seconds pass.

Which isn’t all that difficult. Not when they’re holding onto each other for dear life, every so often shifting to get a better angle. Moaning under their breaths for different reasons despite sharing the experience. No longer trying to suppress the feelings that stir when Astarion inevitably pulls away, dripping in blood that she immediately moves to wipe away. 

“You eat like a starved boar,” she says, trying not to giggle at the way he chases her blood-stained fingers, somehow still desperate for more. 

“And you moan like a banshee.”

“I do not!”

Without warning he begins to mock the sound of her voice, throwing his head back, causing her to press her palm fully over his mouth. 

“Do you ever stop?”

His voice doesn’t carry through her hand so she reluctantly drops it, giving him a pointed look only to receive another grin. “Only if you want me to,” he then says, and almost immediately she feels her face begin to heat up, realizing that she doesn’t. That instead of stopping and taking a second to talk or even breathe all she wants is more. 

So, she responds with another kiss. Not caring about the taste of her blood on his lips or the desperate way she falls slack against his chest, feeling him twitch against her. As she licks the seam of his mouth right open, hungrily pushing her tongue to meet his own, she doesn’t care that he’s adjusting her hips. Grabbing hold of her flesh to position her over the tip of his cock.

With nothing but the sensations of their bodies hurriedly working to become one, she hardly registers anything other than the head teasing her folds, failing to fully enter since she keeps squirming. Something she doesn’t register until he bites her lip a bit too hard, prompting her to pull away and narrow her eyes, watching him frown. 

“Stop moving,” he says, but like always she ignores him, moving whatever way her body decides is right until he’s angrily groaning and turning them over, pinning her against the grass. “Brat.”

“Asshole.” 

He leans in to steal another kiss while using his hands to hold down her hips, feeling her grind against him. “Thorn in my side,” he mutters. 

His voice vibrates against her mouth in a way that has her absolutely reeling. Forcing her hands to dip down to his chest, tracing the carvings of his muscular structure as her tail wraps tightly around his thigh. 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“Pretty?” Somehow he sounds surprised. “Is that a genuine compliment?”

“Maybe.”

He hums and releases one of her hips, moving to grip his cock, giving it a few tentative strokes before lining himself up again. “Care to grace me with another one?”

Once again teasing her entrance, she finds herself shifting upwards, chasing the high of him. Following his sex in absolute misery trying to get him to give in without the need for praise.

“Or perhaps I should give that mouth something else to do?” 

Before she can even think of a clever response he’s moving in. Slowly dragging through her, making sure that the process of it all is almost painful due to its lack of speed. Stretching her out, there’s a brief moment where she has to reach for his arms. To tether herself to him in some other way as he moves just shy of the hilt, leaning down to grin. 

“I’m not hearing any words coming out of that mouth of yours.”

At first, she breaths, adjusting to the feeling of him slipping inside. Trying her best not to focus on the way she instinctively clenches around as she grits her teeth. 

“C’mon now,” he coos. Then ever so slightly he pulls back, dragging the pleasure out of her throat in the form of a moan. 

“Fuck, I love you,” she says, and immediately they both freeze. Neither one of them able to fully register the words until she opens her mouth again, stuttering out an apology. Scrambling to sit up and backtrack only to find herself being pinned back down and taken over.

Before she can even think the wicked snap of his hips quickly becomes enough of a distraction to forget what she just said. Thanks to the way he abruptly pushes and pulls only to slow it all down, it’s as if the regret evaporates into thin air. The phrase itself turning nothing more than a memory as she lets her hands roam across his back.

Now pressed against her, she feels his palm circle around to the base of her spine to create an arch. Providing both of them with a more comfortable angle for him to rut inside her, hardly caring that his pace has fallen out of time. No longer thinking about the finer details. 

Moving in tandem, their lips part so that she can finally breathe, showcasing the stains of blood that cover the lower half of her face, prompting Astarion to smile. 

“You’re perfect,” he tells her. “Better than perfect.” 

And in the moment, she’s tempted to ask what that means. Or to poke some sort of fun in return, but there’s too much happening. The overwhelming sensations of his cock and hands and the way her entire stomach jumps at the sound of his words becoming far more important than her habit of gaining the last word. 

Which only helps build the tension between her thighs. As he continues to jut forward only to slip back, suddenly there’s an additive of movement against her clit. The presence of trailing knuckles brushing, moving much slower than his hips. 

Almost lazily, they glide across her nerves in circles, steadily adding to the collection of pressure. Forcing the pulsing stack of pleasure she feels to become too much as she lets out a pathetic whine.

It’s the kind that has him falling apart. No longer able to keep any sort of pace at all, it’s as if he’s suddenly lost in the dark, struggling to maintain the path set out before him. Forgetting all about past instincts as drops to her chest, kissing her face and neck —licking away remnants of blood before continuing down. 

“Don’t stop,” she says, and even though she wouldn’t put it past him for doing so out of spite, she’s thankful he doesn’t. Instead, discarding all semblance of sense to guide her over the edge. 

Applying a rough bite to the top of one of her breasts, it’s at that moment that Zayis feels the scales tip in her favour. Manifesting in violent tremors that wreak havoc throughout her body, it’s as if she’s lying against the shore, letting the waves lap at her skin. Allowing their strength to pull her in without protest. 

Still above her, she can feel Astarion continuing. Too wrapped up in the feeling of her walls contracting on instinct, he sometimes falters but refuses to quit. Unable to stop even when she’s trying to pull away, the sensation of her orgasm becoming too much.

Because the feeling of that combined with the way he’s touching her —the way he’s pressed against her, practically consuming her skin with his sharp teeth— is hedonistic. An act of pure indulgence that has her joining it, allowing her tail to tangle around his waist as he continues to fuck her through her climax. Forcing her fingers to find a home in his hair, coaxing sweet sounds of pleasure from his pretty little lips. 

“Come for me,” she tells him then, pressing a kiss to his head, watching his neck crane upwards to capture her gaze as he heeds her call, quickly spilling out inside her cunt. No longer able to suppress the shakes that rattle against her thighs, she lets out a soft laugh.

Which prompts him to look up at her in confusion after he’s finally settled down. Noticing the warmth of her features just staring at him. “What?”

Almost immediately, she bites back a grin, trying her best not to make some obscene sound when he eventually slips out of her and falls to her side. “Nothing.”

Now on his back against the grass, he narrows his eyes at the sky above before glancing back over, shaking his head at her comment. Reaching out to playfully smack her face to the side before releasing a sigh. 

“You’re lucky I love you too,” he says, staring at her face —watching it quickly dart his way with widened eyes and parted lips. An obvious lack of thought gracing her mind until everything comes flooding back. 

Then all at once, every reservation disappears. Every hesitation or doubt ceasing to exist the moment she sees the subtle smirk that spreads. How it renders her beyond uselessness, unable to reply let alone breathe. 

“Rendered speechless?” he then teases, using what little energy he has left to prop himself up and lean over her, brushing his nose against hers. Letting the skin-on-skin contact further fluster her system. “That’s new.”

Greedily, she raises her head to kiss him. “So is telling me you love me.”

“So is…”

He trails off, unable to come up with a viable answer, prompting her to smirk back. 

“Gotcha.”

In response he reaches down to pinch her hip, making her squeal. “Careful now or I might put that mouth to better use.”

“Mm, maybe you should,” she teases, but before he can respond there’s a rustle in the bushes, prompting them both to stop in their tracks as they look down the path, noticing a familiar elf stepping towards them. 

Which makes Zayis swear under her breath. Pushing Astarion away, she hears him make a sound of disappointment as she scrambles for her clothes, tossing her tunic over her head before moving to stand —stopping at her knees when she sees Halsin look their way. 

“Ah, I see you two have decided to patch things up the old fashioned way,” he comments, smiling between the two of them. Failing to care about the state of their dress before he continues to walk past them with the gentle wave of his hand, causing Astarion to snort. 

“You know Halsin doesn’t—“

She tosses her pants at his head before he can finish, grumbling in embarrassment as he throws the fabric aside, once again pinning her against the grass with a rough kiss.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in reblogs)

[ratticus-the-emperor]

so i’ve been thinking a lot lately (shocker, i know, i wish it’d give me a salary), and the more i think about greek myths the more i think about the secret history. it was an excruciatingly long read, even though it was very good, but it ever quite left my mind. especially after i saw a theory one goodreads reviewer put out. i would write a long and convoluted essay, but rather than adhd, i am utterly incapacitated by thinking and hunger. (i haven’t had dinner yet, but moving on)

fret not, although i’m sure there was no one fretting to begin with, i texted a friends series of incredibly messy paragraphs regarding my thoughts. (but they’re extremely simplified here because i was thinking too much)

should i have organized this? yes, but that’s besides the point because we then had a discussion about camilla and how their point of view would be the most accurate to the truth — at least in regards to the death of the farmer. though i’m of the firm belief that the farmer was killed by a mountain lion, which is a panther and the panther is one of dionysus’ sacred animals. i would expand more on what the significance of that is, since a panther attacking them while they were having a bacchanal is incredibly significant, but i only just had this thought now. maybe it was a sign that they were incredibly in over their heads as dumb children doing things they didn’t quite understand, apparently their ancient greek wasn’t as good as they thought either.

anyway, camilla. specifically camilla and her relationship with the rest of the greek class, the two most significant being henry and charles. this rambling would be more focused on what she had with henry, but it’s worth noting that the abuse between her and charles was likely mutual, because after all, something had to make charles act like that. they were all each other had and camilla was using him just as much as he was using her. they were co-dependent. and camilla using people in a running theme as i believe camilla was also only using henry.

there’s reason to believe that camilla hated her life. she hated what’s become of her and charles, she hates her situation and the fact that at the end of it all, she had to go back to take care of her grandmother. she’s privileged but the death of her and charles’ parents probably did a number on her, and not to mention there’s a lot of stuff behind the scenes we don’t know about (everybody say thanks, richard). moving on with that thought in mind, it’s fair to suggest that she was using henry to escape it all. he was rich, intelligent, and had all the means to take care of her — not intelligent enough though, he’s whimsical enough to manipulate. and it all worked until it didn’t. when she thought richard was rich, she was leading him on too and this would explain why she wouldn’t take him in the epilogue. her plan of escape failed. she underestimated how unstable henry was and he’s dead, funnily enough charles was the one who ran away from home and her to be with a married woman and ended up happy (at least that’s what he says), and camilla is left all alone to take care of their grandmother. which is ironic, because everyone “loved” her. and that’s in quotes for a reason. i also don’t believe henry genuinely loved her but that thought has yet to be fully realized, just know that it’s there and i’m going to ramble about it in the future.

that being said, i’m still not over my jumbled thoughts regarding our favourite sun god. i’m very fond of him but can’t quite articulate why, which is why i impulsively ordered another copy of edith hamilton’s mythologies. he can’t just be a footnote, he deserves his own post of nonsensical ramblings.

[chaewonplzbiteme]

Lazy Evaluation {Kim Minji | JiU x Male Reader}

Tags: two ounces of mommy kink, one bowl of age play, two cups of heavenly chocolate, pinch of humor, lots of fluffy fluff-fluff, a plate of hearty cream pie, a single grain of femdom

TW: Math and computer science jokes, mindless smut

4.9k – Read it on AO3.

A/N: The science may not be correct. Please excuse me. Or maybe it is. Most jokes will fly over your head if you are not into mathematics and computer science. This is not a failure on my part, and I will never take full responsibility.

If it helps: It's part of the joke that you do not understand everything about monads... I'm just continueing the meme...

All ten fingers clawed at your own scalp, trying to soothe the tension between your temples. In a furious jumble they shuffled through the already disheveled hair, not only in a motion to squeeze more blood through the tiny pinch of grey matter that you were sure you had left somewhere, but also to shed with the frustration that had plagued you all week. It was your task to show what you had learned in computer science, explore new frontiers of knowledge, and write a dissertation, at the same time documenting your progress for the lecturer.

“So, a Monad does define two operations, but is not a type itself? How is that supposed to work?”

It was quite perplexing, learning about such abstract and high-level data structures in mathematics. All day you have been attempting your own explanation, and every single time you have produced a different answer. Frustratingly, none of them matched any of the myriad descriptions that could be found, be it from the study book both recommended and written by the professor himself, numerous instructional online sites which most likely copy from each other or even what the latest conversational artificial intelligence could synthesize up for you.

“You still didn’t finish with the abstract?” Your study partner asked in a bright and cheerful voice, as she returned with two hot mugs of mocha latte and set them on the table. Your mood changed instantly with the scent of chocolate that permeated through the room, with a strong note of her own essence. Before you could reach for a mug, she was already next to you and flicking through the study book looking for what she was about to explain. “It is actually quite simple, my dear. Think more abstract, a level of indirection above types. This is why we call them type classes.”

The ease of her words leaned cheerfully against a solid wall of the complicated concoctions that have been woven and tightened in your mind. You could only throw your head back, stretching yourself on the beanbag, hands returning to apply even more pressure on both sides. “Like an interface describing interfaces? Aarrgghh...”

“Interface to classes, if you go for programming terms,” she corrected your inaccuracy with a smirk, knowing your frustration was not going to subside so fast. She had seen the same troubles from fellow students. The wide frame of her glasses was not the only reason you had the impression that she was the more intelligent of the two of you. Her sharp mind complemented her neat appearance very well, neither ceasing to astonish you time after time. “A common error for beginners. My dear, nothing has been proven to be difficult in this field of math. You will be able to understand it once you internalize the basics.”

In practical terms, Minji basically lived here. The dormitories are small and cramped and not made for living, only sleeping. Those who wanted to keep their sanity would spend their time away from home, be it the library, a café or the clubs. She knew her way around your kitchen better than you knew your own desk. You woke up stumbling over her bag, her clothes interleaved in the forest of notes with the data structures and pens and your own all over the ground.

“And next you are going to tell me computer science is just applied mathematics… This is so much to learn,” you voiced out your exasperation. You caught yourself looking at her. Not like this was an issue, since Minji was used to you staring at her. In fact, she loved it when you admired her beautiful face, her fair and radiating skin and smooth cheeks. No spell had to be cast, yet you were possessed by her deep hazel eyes. She took a sip as if there was nothing troubling you, savoring the cocoa aroma and accidentally dipping her nose into the whipped cream. Your eyes were locked on nothing other than the spot dotting her nose as she put down her mug — she did notice you were following the white tip around. The smile she gave was a more effective balsam than your fingers had been. Your gaze remained fixed on her as she shuffled around behind your back, the smell of cocoa giving way to hers.

“Clear your head, my love,” said Minji with a very calm voice, turning your head forward. Her hands replaced yours as her fingers traced circles all around. The sense of clogged arteries started to dissipate at once. “Let Mommy-ji help you relax.”

Your mind followed her fingers around your scalp, feeling the pressure she applied and where it moved to. Your eyes lose the bind to any sense of perception, no track of focus, your brain only processing being grasped between her palms and her digits. The thoughts occupying your head dissolved just as the tension faded. Blood rushed from your head to other parts of your body, among others getting clogged in a certain appendage, building up pressure. You hope it will not be noticed by her, since you wanted to enjoy the moment with her undistracted.

The endearing name for her had been established for a long time already, a logical consequence given the dynamics of both your behavior. While your lazy bum was busy playing video games or otherwise slacking around, Minji was the one who took care of the house and your needs. She did the laundry and cooked for you just like your parents, even spoon-feeding you at times. Not every meal, of course, only some, but you appreciated those the most. One day you accidentally blurted it out and it stuck.

But the image of her captivating face lingered in your eyes, even though she was out of sight. Her sculpt combined an adorable and young face with the mature image of a grown woman. If you didn’t know better, the round shape of her face would have made you believe that she was younger than you. Long and well-groomed wavy black hair was just the icing on top of her enchanting face.

“Not the time to slack off, lazy boy,” she chuckled. Minji was right, this was a subject that needed to be learned and understood. No way around it. You needed to retort, to explain the break in your studies, albeit it happened at her instigation. Not that you would blame her, though.

“B-but mommy, I’m not procrastinating,” you managed to stammer out while you were under the spell of her fingers. “I’m just d-deferring the effort. You know, lazy evaluation.”

What a counter, Minji burst out in laughter. Holding off on work was a viable strategy in certain cases, being efficient by knowing what was needed, if at all, and in what quantity. But of course, not every part of you followed this idea.

“You may be a smart boy, but what you are clearly demonstrating is a stiff amount of premature optimization,” she whispered into your ear, her essence filling your nose completely and stunning you as she traced a hand down your body towards your crotch. “What a horny boy, forming a boner ahead-of-time.”

And she has not even teased you yet – the strong side-effect of her touch. You could not declare yourself to be pure in your function at all anymore. It was obvious every part of your body was thinking about her and her touch. “I-It’s warming up. For you.”

“For mommy? How nice~,” she said with a joyous voice while reaching out for the visible bulge in your pants. Her palm covered the manly mound in a cup, rubbing it, feeling it up. More blood flocked to her touch, its return to regular circulation clogged by its own formed tissue pouch. While it takes a mountain millions of years to rise, your tent was erected in mere minutes at full size.

“Please take a look, mommy,” you said, as she went down on you. “Watch how much your boy has grown.” You were happy with how your body reacted to her touch. The desire for Minji was burning strong, the steam driving your member boiling hot. The beacon of your passion is lit – your cock calls for its caretaker. She slowly removed your pants, watching your tent pole rise even higher as it was not being held back anymore.

Her hand traced the length up and down multiple times before wrapping her fingers around the shaft. “Always so excited to see me~.” It was like your cock throbbed in response, even though it was simply timing with her fingers. She moved up and down very slowly, for you to savor the feeling, moving blood and tissue around.

Minji barely sped up the pumping, instead opting for a regular rhythm at a steady pace. Like clockwork your mind settled into the flow, breathing in at the ebb and bracing yourself for the flow, when her hand reached the tip. Distant grumbling, thundering muttering from your mouth warned of the oncoming outbreak.

“My love, tell me what you are,” she asked, smirking in anticipation of your reply. Her hand went slower now. Thinking about what Minji wanted to hear, there could only be one answer. Not your name, nor that you are her fellow student and attended the same courses. Such returns would not yield an effect. And if your answer had no effect on her, the result might as well be useless. Slower and slower, slower towards the peak, even slower further away. Idle state. Tension.

 “Mommy’sh cude liddle cum fountain,” is the reply you give. That is all what you will ever need to be for her.

“Yes, you are, baby boy~,” Minji approved of you. She dragged her fingers upwards in a slow manner, the tight embrace shifting higher and higher. The alternating grooves and creases of her hand slid across your shaft before leaving your cock, before turning around to cup the shaft and press it against her soft cheeks. Time was nigh’, she demanded your produce. “Cum. I want you to scream.”

At her command, the floodgates of release opened. With intense pressure prostrate launched the stream of ejaculate up into the air. It erupted out in a way more akin to a volcano than a fountain, each spurt leaving with a wave that traveled together with a guttural groan along the entire length of your cock. Minji felt every throb of your member against her cheeks, the hardness thumping against her tender face with each explosion.

“So hard and strong,” Minji praised both your cock and the force of your discharge. “Beating so hard for me~,” she added. The ropes of cum coated her forehead, some getting caught by her eyebrows. Her disheveled hair also showed some wet streaks, collateral damage from the powerful blasts. “Too bad I couldn’t taste any of it,” she demanded more, alluding to the uncertainty principle. To observe how far cum could travel, one could not taste it at the same time.

“Mommy, I want to taste you, too,” you said. The worship of each other’s bodies was a mutual thing, neither of you had the intention to freeload the other’s goodwill. What she gave to you, you better return it many times back. Sensual stimulation is a commutative operation, and it would be a shame if it were performed one-sided only. In other words, love making is better when it is perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

You held her high, pulled her up into a kiss, connected your lips, tongues making out. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons on her delicate sheer blouse. You were quick to pull down her inner top and unclasp her bra, too, revealing her well-developed chest. One of you tripped over – or did someone push? – and again you laid on the ground. It was hard to escape gravity when your soul was weighed down by this radiating beauty and her delectable womanly mounds. All things come to those who wait, but there was no rest for the wicked. You took in everything she had to offer, her smell, her taste, the texture of her skin and how her flesh felt.

Like with any other part of her body, she loved her breasts to be worshipped. Her low hums guided your mouth between her mounds, but your tongue dictated the rhythm of her mellow purrs. The sensation of your devotion to her caused a wave of content pleasure to flood through her body, the current of tingles emanated from her brain surged across her chest, causing sparks to fly through her stomach, and swashed against her core to be forked into separate ripples coasting along her legs, before hitting her toes and causing them to curl.

Your hands did not remain idle. Just like your tongue they moved back and forth all over her body, feeling her up just like you are tasting her breasts. Minji reciprocated your attention by pulling in her lower wings and extending them again, her splendid thighs and heavenly shaped calves were roaming your body. You felt her everywhere, she made sure you got everything from her.

She shifted around, taking away your favorite baby-soother in the process, but instead putting a favorite meal of yours in its place – welcome to your dream world. The musk was strong, a mix of Minji’s own odor mixed with the pungent smell of the dripping wet juices it was coated in. The flavor was both sweet and sour, with a trace of the same taste you experienced on her chest and in her kiss. With every lick on her core, she nudged closer to her destined place on your face. With every fraction of an inch that she moved, she was closer to smothering you completely.

The darkness slowly engulfed you, not that you minded being trapped in the dream – between her voluminous thighs – if it was a good way to bring her pleasure. Plowing through the dampness and exploring the cave before you would be the only way out. A deep dive into her hole brought back a tongue covered in copious amounts of juices, which you deposited in your own mouth before swallowing. You rang her doorbell, asking for a free refill, announcing your return, before entering the cave again.

Minji meanwhile rested on low hills and even shallower grooves, but there was a noticeable pole in front of her. It was hard as steel, yet it was bouncy to her touch. She knew despite its shape it had volcanic properties, being capable of shooting jets of hot ejaculate through its main vent, its solid remains forming a fertile seed for future growth. In fact, she had observed it erupt violently before. A reasonable onlooker would have been cautious in their handling of the erect mast, but Minji was on cloud nine. Her hand was reaching for your shaft. It was as if her brain ran on someone else’s computer.

Minji played with your cock despite the assault on her core by your tongue. It wormed its way inside of her vagina, wriggling around before tracing her lower lips up and down, and drawing a ring around her nub before repeating the procedure. The counterattack to reclaim Wall Maria involved her own tongue tracing your cock up and down, before circling over the bulbous head. Not only did the mast of steel twitch slightly, but the attack stumbled.

Her thick lips now engulfed your shaft. She was out to tame the horny creature beneath her. One would be the tortoise in this hunt to the peak, and the other the hare. Together they would race around the vicious cycle of pleasure, getting each other closer, coming head-to-head on the edge and pulling away again, before entering the next cycle. One was going faster; one was going slower. Because the hornier one would choke on its ambitions, eventually even the tortoise would catch up to the hare. Minji devoured the hare’s tail all the way down, choking on it and feeling it throb and wriggle at the back of her throat. The hare did not relent, however, and instead intensified its attack, its head circling around her nub, unafraid of the secretions her cavern produced in defense, but now even more determined to continue. There would be only one way to break out of this recurring loop – they would have to both lose themselves to pleasure simultaneously.

No matter how hard she worked on it, the pole would not let itself be defused. But without air, there can be no fire. Minji would have to drown the volcano’s air vent, cutting it off from its oxygen supply. You pulled on her thighs, groping her butt, pushing her core further into your face as tight as possible. It was hard to tell who was struggling more, whether she was convulsing more under your assault, or your cock was throbbing harder in her mouth. Small gushes from her walls announced her own impending eruption, telling you to brace yourself for what is to come. But you lose control of yourself when the storm hits you, a downpour of juices bringing you the bliss you were looking for by flooding your mouth and nose. The spit covering the hot rod was not enough to extinguish it, so your cum could fill her throat unhindered.

Minji was gagging on your little volcano as it erupted once more, payback for setting off such a dangerous object. You meanwhile were groaning and choking on her juices while getting drenched by her geyser, locked helpless between her strong thighs. Hips were spasming with their orgasms. Sweaty bodies rubbing against each other, both squirting their fluids into one another.

It took a moment for you both to settle down, to catch your breath. Minji just kept laying on top of you, rubbing your still-hard shaft and thighs and butt. You did the same to her while under her, enjoying the feeling of her.

“I hope your balls are not exhausted yet,” she said with a smile, voice slightly hoarse.

Your answer was to dive back in for a second serving. More of her was never enough. A lot of evenings had gone like this already, and yet you both came to each other for more. This was not the first time you had explored each other. And it won’t be the last time. Breath hitting the wet organs kept the heat in check. She gave you a series of hard squeezes trailing from your thighs to your groin, before getting up.

“I’ll be right back.” Minji went to get something from her bag and threw something on the table, something shiny and square and slightly convex, then she picked up a mug. “Come to me now, baby boy,” she said as she took a sip, but she did not swallow. Now it was her turn to pull you into a kiss. Your mouths connected once more, her tongue pushed through your lips, and you both got to taste the chocolate. Both your tongues danced and wrestled each other in the sweet bath, coating one another and cleansing it off again.

Your hands and arms battled with each other too, groping and guiding each other, pulling on clothes and undergarments to finally get rid of them, getting stuck on every nook and curve. The final piece of wear was her glasses, which she elevated into the air without destination before being catapulted towards the table without aim, bumping against one of the mugs. Another opportunity to trip and fall over, although this time it was you who landed on top of her, noses nearly bumping into each other.

“Minji, how can you be so beautiful,” you conjured up a smile on her face. You loved her beyond her appearance of course. The source of your affection for her was simple: Humans truly are most beautiful when they are just smiling and having fun. Minji could turn your mood around in seconds, and today was no different. Those mesmerizing hazel eyes of her could dissolve any stress you had. “Some days I do wonder why you spend so much time with me,” you whispered your thoughts.

“Midnight, close to you,” she said as she went through her own thoughts. Minji did not have to think a lot. It was easy.

“BEcause I love you.”

Minji launched herself high into another kiss, sucking out of your stomach what hundreds of butterflies had swirled up. It was clear that she appreciated you being there for her just as much as you felt empty without her. “I feel good around you,” she added. She was right. Not only did she spend a lot of time with you, but you went out of the way to be with her, to make her happy, to make her time with you worthwhile.

“I love you, too, mommy.”

Hearing and saying the three words lifted a lot off your mind. She embraced you tighter, your lips seeking out each other. The desire for each other burned strong. Moaning reverbed through each other's mouths. “Mommy, I want you so much,” you managed to say. Your cock was still standing proud, rubbing itself on her doorbell, waiting to be allowed inside.

“Take me as yours then, my chemical hype boy.” Her cheek brushed against yours when smiling. “But first tell me: Would you rather treasure me like a cherished pet or milk me like cattle?” Your logic is screaming: Yes.

Noses hovering over each other, heavy breathing brushing on cheeks and lips, eyes staring into eyes, strong thighs pressing into stronger thighs, one pair spread and the other bent.

“The pole train runs on whole grain!” You screamed, like how bungee jumpers or parachutists exclaim when they plunge boots first into hell. Your cock was racing to be inside of her faster than your thoughts. Like with a perfect equation ready to be solved, you substituted the emptiness in her longing core with the feeling of you. A substitution with the force of a mountain, the heat of a volcano. Minji opened her mouth in shock but in silence, the feeling of your penis spearing itself inside overwhelming her. You were sure she wanted to say something, but no voice came out of her.

Her breathing was labored, sudden gasps with each thrust. Her walls were tight, the cavern had to give way to the intrusive pole forcing its way inside. A ripple, this time physical, traveled from her butt cheeks up her body each time your hip crashed into hers, a wave of pressure making its way to the outlet between her other cheeks before finally venting.

Her tits were squeezed between her body and your chest, but that did not stop them from shaking around with the ripple passing through. Every woman was built different, felt different, thought different. But Minji had made it clear to you that she loved to be overwhelmed.

She had her eyelids closed, letting the waves of bliss wash over her and throughout her body. Her little boy could reach far deeper than your tongue ever could. And it was way bigger, stretching her wider. But Minji enjoyed her time with both – after all, each had their merits. A tongue could not just worm itself into unexplored areas, but also move and rub and push unlike a penis. For now, she just enjoyed her walls being parted in rhythm.

But a question still lingered in your mind. Perhaps now you were more receptive to understanding the concept.

“Minji, tell me again, how do monads work?”

Not a very romantic question, and especially not suitable for intercourse, but she was used to your constant babbling, an indication that your head was free and unoccupied – better hope that we are not going down a rabbit hole. Not that you ever stopped making fun of everything. At the same time, you were not the only one capable of making jokes.

“A monad is just a monoid in the category of endofunctors, what’s the problem?” she answered with a straight face. Your steady rhythm barely interrupted her voice, a strong display of her composure. You understood the words, but the sentence did not make any sense. Well, ok, maybe not even the words. You should admit that you did not understand anything.

“I could tell you a monad joke, but first... I would need to tell you jokes about functors and... applicatives,” she told another, smiling. Is this retribution for your own silly jokes? She was starting to pant between words. “What do you call... a verb that likes to apply... for jobs?” She was giggling. This one did not make any sense.

“Please, no, stop mommy,” you pleaded. She knew how to get you. You tried to muffle her with a kiss, but she managed to break free. “An applicative,” Minji laughed when telling you the answer. It was a pun, a word play, rather than a scientific joke. “I know some more~,” she chuckled.

“Let me come up with something, too.” It took you a moment, but an idea popped into your head. The missing piece to an equation that no one had been able to solve yet. You could just barely hold your laughter in anticipation. Let us start with the abstract: “Hey, mommy, let me ask you, what’s one plus one?”

Minji realized where this was going. This was simple math, albeit with an imaginary component. “Are you serious!? Three?”

“Well, let’s suppose, inside of your pussy. Penis goes in, penis and baby come out. Math does not check out, what’s missing?” Setting up the introduction for this joke with a central question, you tried to nudge an answer out of her. And the hint you gave Minji was to give her the mating press.

Minji growled. “Fucking sex-ed. That’s how biology works… silly boy.” She was not about to give in to the riddle you had posed. But the thrusts would not stop until the punchline had been served.

“Indeed, the female anatomy is something wonderful, creating new life from nothing more than a deftly deep dicking.” If only you were as smart with your studies instead of cracking terrible jokes. While this was not an exact science, the conclusion that making babies was a product made of thin air and the energy induced by the pounding is alluringly plausible, however inherently flawed.

“OMG fucking hurry up,” she shouted, having had enough of your nonsense. Slowly losing her composure, Minji tightened her embrace around you, closed her eyes, bit on her lips, pulling you in closer. She was close, you could hear it in how she alternated between moaning and squealing. It was also difficult for you to uphold the asymptotic behavior as your hammering approached the edge. It was clear that the limit was about to be reached.

“The most important secret sauce to make mommy a real mommy,” you panted. You were not far behind Minji in the race to the finish line, and you wanted to beat her. It only took you a few more thrusts until your hips began to buckle, starting to spasm – but not just yours. One last push would bring you both over the edge. Finally, content with the procedure so far, you proclaim the solution: “My cum!”

Once is happenstance. Twice is sincere lovemaking. Thrice is proving that Minji is going to get knocked up today. None of her attempts today to stop the volcano have borne any fruit. For one more time Mt. Priapus erupted with boiling hot fervor, sending a stream of molten cream blazing its way through the caverns behind mommy’s lavatory, leading into the chamber of secrets. A tide of secretion was launched against the current, it tried in vain to quench the heat. From the ashes of the hot liquid flooding her womb, a young new phoenix shall rise.

“Cum goes into the whole. Equation is complete. The sum of the ingredients is now empty. Q.E.D. Geddit?” Your cheeky joke was rewarded solely with your own laughter, and a pinch on the nose by her. In closing, this was nothing more than a silly mood booster. You stayed on top of a sweaty Minji, still embracing her tightly while she kept panting, smiling, showing her cheeks.

“What an astoundingly terrible scientific conclusion...” Minji did not know whether to groan or to laugh. Droplets of sweat were running down her face, body sticking to the floor, but she was visibly satisfied with what you had laid on the table. This is a contradiction with her reaction to your elaborate joke. “I think we should invite Yoo over for a peer review,” she suggested suggestively.

You tried to be respectful of her offer, but you were not ready yet. “I-I have barely anything written yet—” Another pinch on your nose cut you off. “I was talking about something else, innocent little—”

A sudden realization hit her. Did she forget something on the stove? Was Minji hatching a devious plan for your future endeavors? Were you too hasty? Would she be open to multiple inheritance with Yoo? The chocolate was getting cold. Glittering on the table. No, something was different this time. She put on a vicious smile that made you feel uneasy.

“Horny boy, when did I give you permission to not use protection?”

Given her question, the answer may be obvious. But we both know that this is an exercise left for the reader.

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has It's Thorns - Part One

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc (Talia)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, betrayal. (potentially more to be added?)

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. Not that it is any easier for the soulmate in question. Thus is the fate for Ricky and Talia. Sooner or later, however, life is bound to collide, but what will happen when it does?

author’s note: Part ONE, as usual unbeta'd and will just throw my jumbled words at you and ask you to love them. I don't know how long this series will be yet, I am playing by ear to having a feel for this story and where it will take me.

tags: If you would like to be added feel free to ask, please let me to know whether to this list specifically or in general.

~~

Talia forever would hate the day she learned about soulmate tattoos. Well, marks, they weren’t really tattoos as far as she was concerned. Just because they were intricate images like tattoos, some of them anyway. Some of them were nothing but simple stick figures that little children could draw, the reason that everyone called them tattoos was because they were artwork that was permanently inked to a person’s skin and could never be taken off. Unlike real tattoos though, no needle needed to be taken to your skin for them, there was no ink, no pain, no healing. Everyone got their mark.

On your eighteenth birthday, at the exact moment you were born, your mark appeared. If you were born at five thirteen in the morning, or exactly a minute before midnight, that was the moment that your mark was going to appear. You couldn’t predict what it was. You couldn’t predict where it would be. There was no rhyme or meaning behind them.

Some people used to think that there was an emotional meaning connecting the pair with the tattoo. However, Talia found that hard to believe when there were people that had literally poop emoji as their soulmate tattoo on their ass, out there in the world, oh yes, they were out there, she was well aware. Her cousin, Gemma’s best friend, was her soulmate tattoo. The poor girl, Talia actually hoped that she didn’t find her soulmate if there was truth that there was something linking them emotionally with that emoji, because no.

Not everyone found their soulmate, not everyone wanted to. Some people actively avoided looking at their soulmates because honestly, it took the surprise out of life, and where was the fun of that? The joy of falling in love, and the hope and thrill of putting your heart on the line and wondering, is this the person? Is this the person that fate had chosen for you, the one you were meant to be with?

Talia would never know that feeling.

She knew who her soulmate was the very moment her mark appeared, and the shock that she felt was something that she couldn’t even put words to. Seeing that tattoo appear, one that she knew. One that she’d seen on fansites of one of her favourite bands more than once, and in the same place.. If it wasn’t in the same place it wouldn’t have been him. If it wasn’t in the same place she wouldn’t have been in the position she was in now. If it was just the same image, and not the same place, it would have just been an uncanny coincidence.

This wasn’t just some uncanny thing.

It was real.

Problem was, it was all over the fansites, and Talia had never kept it any secret how much she loved Motionless In White. Especially Ricky Horror.

So when the day she turned eighteen came and she turned up with the exact tattoo that all the fansites claimed was his soulmate tattoo but he always refused to confirm, what famous person would confirm and have millions come out of the woodwork claiming to be their soulmate? Well, it was safe to say, she was ripped apart by so many people that she at least used to think were her friends.

Her true friends, all these years later, were down to three. Three people that in no way would ever bag on her for the rose tattoo that not so innocently sat on her neck, and none of them dared mention anymore.

Years.

Talia used to try.

Despite the cruelty of those around her treating her like some psychotic obsessed fangirl that had gone and gotten the tattoo on her birthday just to fool the man into being with her. She’d loved going to concerts, not just to try and meet Ricky, despite the assumption, but also for the music, thank you very much, but yes, for Ricky. How could she not want to meet the man whose very soul was marked on her skin for the rest of her life? Whose life had been marked with hers longer than hers had been marked with his…

There had been close calls over the years, when she almost got to meet him. The closest had been the time when she’d actually managed to get a VIP ticket to a concert. Sure it was two states over, and she had to fly there and take some time off work, but the fact that she’d managed to save up, and get the ticket at all.

Ava, Jordan and Kyle had all helped her. The three people in her life that had never, not once, ever questioned that mark on her skin and who the other person on the other end was.

Even her family had made her wonder if she was a little insane for thinking that Ricky Horror was her soulmate. Her mother had been so obvious in her effort to placate her, never once did she feel like her family thought that maybe, just maybe, did they believe her. Her father actually suggested she get medical help more than once. Not surprisingly though, there were therapists that did specialise in the effects of the soulmate bond and sometimes delusions that could come from them. The day her father made her appointment with one of them though, was the day she decided to move out of her parents house.

Thankfully Ava had a spare room and was more than happy to split rent with her.

Oh, and that VIP ticket that she got?

She didn’t make it there in time.

One thing happened after another that night, and you could call it a disaster of fate, and in hindsight, she should have seen it coming. Maybe it was a product of fate. Maybe the whole thing with the soulmate tattoos were always going to be wrong and hers was just sitting on her skin to taunt her.

First, her client appointment ran late, and if she had tried to end it early so she could make it to the airport in time, she would have risked losing her job. Not that it would have mattered considering her flight had been delayed anyway, and then by the time they were finally about to board they cancelled it and had to get her onto a different flight. A different flight which meant she didn’t even get there in time to get into her VIP meet and greet in time.

She got to go to the concert.

She got her VIP merch.

After all that, beaten down with the day behind her, her hotel booked and not needing to be at the airport for the flight home until late the next day, she decided to wait to see if she could catch them after the show.. Until she saw him, finally. The smile lit up her face as she saw Ricky pass them by.. Talia had wanted to say something, but when they were actually talking to the fans she was stuck behind some idiot and blocked out of the way, and by the time she managed to elbow her way through, they’d already been ushered on by security.. Not that it mattered when he saw one of the people he was with. His new girlfriend, hand in hand.

It had been an amazing night.. But one that had ended with her in heartbreak.

That was the night that was the beginning of the end for Talia’s attempts to meet Ricky. After so many trips to see their concerts, and try to see him, this last one, this VIP trip, was when she saw him walking back to his tour bus with his new, pretty girlfriend. He was smiling at her so bright, holding her hand between them.

It wouldn’t have killed her as much, except he looked so happy.

Sure, Talia had no doubt he’d had girlfriends before, she’d dated guys, but Ricky had never been open on social media about any of his relationships. This girl though, he was very vocal about. Talia, she couldn’t destroy that, soulmate or not.

Not everyone wanted their soulmate, not everyone wanted their soulmate. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, he was famous, that had to be hard, after all, nearly every single person that knew who her mark connected her too thought she’d was just some psychotically obsessed fan. Why wouldn’t he?

So life moved on.

Talia moved on.

However, if she had to endure one more pathetic attempt to set her up on a blind day from her mother, her brain might explode. Ever since she’d given up on her soulmate tattoo, not that she’d talked to mother about it in years, her mother’s attempts to interest her in someone else had only increased. Now though, the moment the inevitable subject of soulmates came up, she never knew what to say. More often than not, the date came to a dead stop then and there just from what he said even before she could open her mouth. Too many people went on blind dates in hope of meeting the one. She knew she wasn’t that person, and there was no second date then.

Sitting at her desk and looking up from her sketch patch when her phone started going off repeatedly, she was working on a new piece for one of her long-time clients, he was slowly working on a full tattoo sleeve and this was the next addition she was designing, provided he liked what she worked up. He hadn’t yet, but there was always a first time.

Trying to ignore the alerts on her phone to focus wasn’t going to happen, but she needed to take a lunch break anyway. So she set her pencil down, picked up her phone and set to go make herself a cup of coffee.

When she saw who the messages were from, she glanced up to the front of the tattoo palour to one of the culprits, Ava.. she was right there at the reception desk, flicking through a magazine like she didn’t have a care in the world, typical. Shaking her head with a smirk as she opened the messenger app to her friend groups chat to see what the three of them had been gossiping about back and forth.

Kyle: Hey guys, we’re still on for tonight? Jordan: Party girl, you still in? Ava: Oh, I’ll get her there, she’d got her head in her work, like usual today, you know her. Jordan: Oh come ON, TALIA! BIRTHDAY GIRL! Kyle: T, Darling, I did not agree to double shifts to get the night off for you to BAIL! Ava: Kyle! Cool your jets, she’ll be there!

It had been a few moments since the last message, she knew they’d been planning on taking her out to a bar for her birthday for weeks, she hated going out on her birthday, she hated it. It always reminded her of the fucking tattoo on her neck. It shouldn’t. Everyone talked about soulmate tattoos on their birthday. Counting down the years and remembering how they felt when they first saw theirs, or when they first met their soulmate.. When all she wanted was to forget she ever got her mark at all.

She understood Kyle’s frustration though, he was a nurse, and sometimes getting time off for a night out was difficult for him. Kyle and Jordan were fucking lucky, they were soulmates, two of her best friends, known each other since they were in diapers, had been joined at the hip since middle school. The biggest worry they’d ever had was if they were soulmates at all. When Jordan had gotten his mark two months before Kyle, they’d agreed if Kyle didn’t have the same, they wouldn’t care, and lo and behold, two months later, sure enough, Kyle did.

It was actually scary really thinking about it, the way the marks worked.. How if you got your mark years before your soulmate, they could be out there and have no idea. She was younger than Ricky by years, and she wondered sometimes what he must have been thinking, how he must have felt. Some people never met their soulmate, some people never got the chance, and it wasn’t by choice. You knew when you lost the choice, if your tattoo changed from black to white on your skin, then it meant your soulmate had died.

Talia’s of course was still very much black. Not that it mattered. Ricky was out there, not looking, and neither was she. He was happy with someone else, and who was she to ruin that for him.

After she pushed the button on the coffee maker she looked back down to her phone and tapped out a message on her phone.

Talia: I’ll be there Ky, be prepared to die by shots.