#your past has been difficult and painful but i promise not everyone is here to hurt you. if only you give a chance to good things

[what-is-this-bakwaas]

.

[thebigbiwolf]

Spittle - Part 1/2

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, succubus magic, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk), more tags will be added later.

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Dubcon (if you squint), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: Remember the dead spider? I remember the dead spider. Anyways, the reception I've been getting on Starvin', Darlin' has me wanting to thank everyone with a one-shot. This got away from me so I went ahead and split it into two parts.

I've never written anything like this and it was significantly more difficult than a multi-chapter fic. I hope everything comes across the way its supposed to! And a huge thank you to my beta @imaginarydromedary for...you know... encouraging me to post this, despite everything.

From what you could tell, there wasn’t much to the apothecary. 

As you push open the dilapidated doors, your first thought is to search for supplies - anything that could help if things went south on your way to the goblin camp. 

Dried herbs hang from the rafters beneath a thin veil of cobwebs, filling your lungs with a pungent clash of scents. Empty bottles lined the shelves along the wall, caked in several months worth of dust. Large chunks of the building were missing where stone met splintered wood, some areas almost entirely overtaken by greenery.

You step over broken shards of pottery, scanning over the floor and countertops for something - anything that may be of use, but to your disappointment, it seems like the shop was entirely ransacked long before your arrival.

You sigh deeply, knowing you’ll likely never hear the end of this from your companions. It was your idea to search the village. You were the one who suggested taking out the goblin scouts, exerting everyones’ energy, and now you’re afraid you’ll have very little to show for it.

You catch a glint of gold, an object reflecting the sun's rays beneath a pile of rubble. You kneel down to brush away the surrounding debris, thankful for even the smallest promise of coin before your hands catch on… some sort of serrated edge?

You pull at it, and it easily comes loose. It's a thin, rectangular block, just barely larger than the length of your hand. You wipe away some of the dirt with your sleeve, revealing an intricately designed foil wrapping underneath.

As you speculate what this might be, you hear footsteps approaching from behind, light and familiar. You turn to face the elf with a smirk.

“You’re supposed to be the stealthy one.” You chide at him, playfully, “Or has my blood put a little skip in your step?”

Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been here the entire time, watching you fumble around in the dirt.” 

Crimson eyes study you, then the object you’re holding. He places his hands on his hips, head cocked to the side with a raised brow. “Is that what you’ve dragged us all the way here for?”

“First of all,” you waggle a finger at him, “You’re especially grumpy when you’re tired. I’ll have to make a note to prioritize your beauty rest. Second, I haven’t finished looking around, but check this out.”

You hand the bar to him as you stand. The cool skin of his fingers brush against your own, and you’re irritated with the way your heart skips at the brief contact. Why did the one man you found attractive in your camp have to be such a primadonna? And such a huge pain in the ass? 

Astarion’s eyes scan over the textured paper with suspicion, angling it towards the light to get a better look. The golden wrapping is stamped with an image of red lips On the back, letters twist and curve in a language you don't recognize, following a single circular pattern where they meet in the center. You’ve never seen anything like this, neither in your travels, nor within the city walls of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where did you find this?” 

You shrug, then point to the pile next to you. “It was buried right there.” 

He silently stares at the foil, mouth pursed, until your patience begins to wear thin.

“Well, can you read it or not?”

His nose scrunches. “Of course I can’t read it. It’s written in Infernal.”

That’s… odd. Why would an ordinary apothecary sell goods made by devils? Or, worse, for devils. Unless, of course, it was some sort of marketing trick, perhaps a play on the phrase ‘sinfully sweet’, or some other cringeworthy branding.

You take it back, turning it over in your hands before tearing at the corner of the wrapping. It's sectioned into dark, rich squares, and smells indisputably like chocolate.

“It looks like candy.”

“An excellent observation.” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, can we go? We’ve spent more than enough time here already.”

You roll your eyes and stuff it into your bag, setting off for camp, vampire in tow.

–

During dinner, you decide not to tell the others about what you found, knowing Astarion’s likely already forgotten the event. You set down your empty plate, thanking Gale for tonight’s meal. He smiles at you and bids you goodnight as you excuse yourself to your tent. 

You pick up your rucksack, thinking fondly of the dessert that awaits you inside. Having lived at the beck and call of your companions for weeks on end, you can’t help but smile at the idea of selfishly indulging in a small treat like this.

You tear open the rest of the wrapping and snap off one of the squares, immediately popping one into your mouth. It melts - buttery in texture, with a smokey, slightly bitter flavor. You can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten something so rich. Maybe weeks of the same rations have made you easier to impress, but this felt especially notable.

As you break off a second piece, a strange tingling sensation begins to spread across your lips - a pleasant buzzing that starts at your neck and spreads down through your chest. 

Strange, but not entirely unwelcome. You’ve heard of such inebriating chocolates, ones laced with alcohol or species of flowers that numb one’s senses for a short while. All harmless, of course, and you don’t have watch tonight. You may as well enjoy yourself. If worst comes to worst, Shadowheart is just outside with an assortment of spells and potions. Always better to ask for forgiveness.

It only takes you minutes to finish half the bar. You set the rest next to your bedroll for later and turn to blow out your candles, enjoying the lingering physical effects of the chocolate. Your skin feels flushed and delightfully warm as you settle down for the night.

When sleep finally takes you, it's dreamless, at first. Your consciousness sways, floating in an empty abyss, until colors begin to bleed onto the blank canvas of your mind.

A trickle of red morphs into the shape of familiar eyes, piercing you with their intensity..

Droplets of white spatter over a dark background, diffusing, blending into whisps. They curl and twist before settling into soft, coiffed fibers. 

Hair , you recognize immediately, his hair . His eyes.

Astarion. 

His image fully takes form, as if it had been waiting for you to make the connection before entirely revealing itself. 

He reaches out and seizes you, grabbing painfully at your hips as you crash into his body, hands exploring you - tight, possessive, squeezing at every inch of exposed skin before settling on the curve of your ass. He digs into your flesh with the blunt edge of his nails.

His lips press hot, wet kisses to your throat, mouthing just below the ear, before dragging his tongue along your nape and sucking, hard . You whine at the pressure, eliciting a grin from the elf, so characteristically pleased with the pathetic little noise he’s managed to pull from you.

“You thought sleeping would allow you to escape this - to escape me , unscathed?” He growls against your skin, his voice almost unrecognizable - as if it’s layered beneath a lighter, somehow more arrogant, feminine one.

“No, no, no. Wake up, darling. You’re in for a very long night.”

–

You startle awake, gasping - loud, labored breaths struggling to make use of the unbearably thin air. The edges of your tent bleed in and out of focus, spinning at a nauseating pace as you attempt to recollect yourself.

You wipe at the sweat collecting on your brow, the muscles of your arm heavy and aching, and find that your skin is absolutely drenched. 

Hot. Why is everything so hot? 

It's as if you're being cooked alive beneath your blankets, strangled beneath the furs. You throw them off; normally soft to the touch, the fibers now only worsen the prickling beneath your skin.

Could this be some sort of illness? A fever? 

No, this doesn’t make sense. Everything feels off. 

Fleeting thoughts of Astarion cross your mind - quick flashes of a sinful smile that was not his own.

It didn’t quite match the one you’d silently come to admire, and now that you think of it, the hunger in his gaze was much too intense for the reserved elf. 

His hands, his mouth, the way he touched you -

Your abdomen cramps, bringing your thoughts to a screeching halt.

A stabbing, visceral pain; a knife plunging into your organs. It overwhelms you, forces your body to curl into itself. You hold your pelvis, grunting, and grasp at your sheets. Tears sting the corner of your eyes.

This is - well, you have no idea what this is. 

You can’t think past the pounding in your head, the throbbing in your midsection. You're compulsively twisting, writhing, begging the gods for some sort of reprieve, but it's then when you make the most mortifying discovery of the night.

You’re soaked .

N ot just your smallclothes, which may have been understandable given your strange dreams, but through your damned pants. Not even the sheets were spared. 

“What  in the hells…?” 

You run your fingers over yourself, only intending to confirm the horrifying reality of your situation - that this is not, in fact, some sick, perverted nightmare, but the lightest touch sets off every nerve. 

You wail at the sensation: one massive wave of bliss giving way to several small jolts of pain. 

Pleasure to the point of agony.

The shock of the sudden orgasm courses from your sex through every limb, clenching and releasing pitiful, warm slick. It leaks freely out of you into your already thoroughly ruined underwear. 

Your heart pounds. You stay like that for what feels like a lifetime, toes curled, limbs twitching, waiting for your body to settle. 

After a minute or so, your breathing evens, and the thick haze surrounding your thoughts begins to lift just slightly, along with the suffocating heat. 

But something within you knows this isn’t the end - knows this isn’t enough . A desperation lurks beneath the surface that you can’t quite name. It screams at you. You need more.

‘Aw…’ A familiar, feminine voice prods at your mind. You quickly recognize her, the woman from your dreams who wore Astarion’s image.  

‘All alone, are we? Empty and needing to be filled? Doesn’t that hurt?’

It does. It aches unlike anything you’ve ever known. The lingering buzz of your orgasm just barely quells the worsening cramps, and they’re beginning to rear their ugly head again not minutes later.

You choke out a sob. “Wh- why are you doing this? What do you want?”

Sharp, wicked laughter fills your head, echoing off the walls of your skull. ‘I’m not doing anything, dear. Just enjoying the show.’ She hisses, ‘I told you, it’s going to be a very long night.’

You must be hallucinating. This fever - whatever this is, is simply cauterizing your senses, or possibly interacting with the tadpole? But the tadpole doesn’t speak, not like this. Never so clearly. Not with words.

Think, please. There has to be a reason this -

“Is everything alright?” Shadowheart raps on the canvas of your tent. “I heard a yelp. Are you hurt?”

Shit.

‘Ooh, this one might do!’  You feel an unwelcome… eagerness flood you.

No. No. Absolutely not.

You try not to panic. 

Under no circumstances should she or anyone else come in here.

The best strategy may be to ignore her - pretend you’re still sleeping. It seems like a good plan, but before you have a chance to follow through with it, another sharp contraction hits. This one is somehow even worse than the ones before. 

You pull your sheets up to your mouth to stifle your whine, but the half elf’s ears are sharper than most. “I’m coming in.”

She opens the flap to your tent and gasps when she sees you there - skin flushed pink, doubled over and covered in sweat. 

“Gods, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” Her hand reaches out towards you. 

Without thinking, you swat it away with your own. Your skin tingles at the contact, and the essence of a smile crosses over the threshold into your mind. The intruder giggles with satisfaction.

“Don’t,” you plead, “Don’t touch me.”

She scans over you, taking in your humiliating state. Her face twists with concern. “I need to know if you’re feverish. Please. You look awful.” 

‘Well, I think you look delectable.’

You groan.

At this point, you know it’s no use fighting this thing on your own. You go back and forth on whether you want to tell her the whole truth, about the voice in your head and its influence on your body, but the idea mortifies you into silence. 

Regardless, a cleric is likely your best chance of fixing this literal mess, so you nod, close your eyes, and brace yourself.

Shadowheart’s palm meets your forehead. It’s somehow worse than you anticipated. Even the simple, chaste touch sends you reeling, as if her soft hands are caressing your entire body. Flashes of heat wash over you, burning your skin, threatening to pull you back under another wave of ecstasy. 

It’s too much. You try your hardest to suppress a moan, but the muffled sound manages to escape from between your tightened lips, pitiful and broken.

The disembodied voice squeals with delight.

She quickly retracts her hand, clearing her throat. “Apologies. I can confirm your temperature is… elevated, but the rest…” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

You want to scream, cry - anything to release your frustration, but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to risk making any more unsavory noises.

“I believe I can give you some relief by treating the fever, but I’ll have to consult the others on the rest. This doesn’t look like any ordinary sickness.”

Consult the others? No. Gods, no. Nobody can know about this. Is she mad?

You intend to protest, beg her not to share this with anyone, tell her whatever death awaits you on the other side of this would be preferable, but she’s speaking an incantation before you have the chance.

A bright, green aura envelopes you, cooling your skin and ever so slightly easing the cramps. With the pain dulled, it's as though you can finally think again. 

You want to laugh. This situation is so utterly ridiculous that you’d find it hilarious, were it anyone else, but with the modicum of relief comes exhaustion - eyelids heavy, vision blurring with weariness.

“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out.” 

Her reassuring words are the last thing you hear before you’re overcome by darkness.

[reverie-starlight]

lucifer in love

in which the avatar of pride tries and fails to get you out of bed

gn!MC, no physical descriptions. fluff. fluff. fluff. lucifer is scared but it’s okay, he’s just not used to being in love yet, he’ll get there, he swears it. pet names (including little lamb once bc it’s canon). he’s literally so in love.

this has no bearing on the fic, but in my mind this is OG game a few months into your relationship, not NB setting. also I sprinkle in some of my own lore headcanons here.

lucifer was not a morning demon.

everyone in the house of lamentation knew it. his brothers would normally steer clear of him until breakfast (aside from the days that satan and belphie were feeling particularly confident), even diavolo and barbatos knew better than to start drowning him with work before a certain time of day.

coincidentally, you weren’t exactly built for mornings, either.

but still, lucifer had incredible resolve and far more years of discipline built up within him than you did. which obviously made the mornings you’d wake up in his bed difficult for both of you.

“my love, it’s time to wake up,” he leaned over your sleeping body placed a hand on your shoulder. he was already fully dressed and (somewhat) ready to brave the early morning hours. he wanted to let you sleep in as long as possible, and it pained him to rouse you from such serenity, but he also knew you’d miss breakfast if he let you rest any longer. and then you’d really be cranky.

his lips formed a small yet genuine, fond smile when he heard you grumbling. “nooo, just a bit longer…” your voice was muffled by his sheets, and you tried to turn away from him.

“little lamb…” he warned, but there was no real bite behind it and you knew it. lucifer knew well that you were as stubborn as he was, so it wasn’t surprising to him in the slightest when you kept pleading with him.

“pleaseee lucifer, come lay with me for a bit longer. I want you near me.”

he sighed. he dared not show any signs of how tempted he was by you. the irony of a human being the one to tempt a demon.

but he did not waiver. “MC, you’ll be late if you stay in bed any longer.”

“so what?” you whined indignantly. “I haven’t been late or even missed a class in weeks- in fact you showed me just last night how deserving I was of a reward for good behaviour. let’s just play hooky today.”

he rolled his eyes slightly. of course you would use his excuse for getting you into his room last night against him to sleep in longer.

you turned to him, laying on your back and staring up at his unamused face with a still-sleepy grin of your own. “come on, baby, just lay with me. we don’t have to skip if you insist on going, but being a little late won’t hurt, you know?”

he blinked and tried to keep his composure. he still wasn’t quite used to being on the receiving end of pet names, and human ones at that, but you had been growing quite comfortable with throwing them at him lately.

this was the third time you had called him that in the past week, and he still wasn’t sure if he liked it or not… he’d need it to be tested a few more times before he could make a final decision.

He didn’t feel the need to test out terms of endearment- he knew what he was comfortable saying and calling you, and you never seemed to complain with him sticking with some of the more… classic? is that how you put it? names. with the exception of little lamb. obviously.

if he was being honest, though, he had been holding back. human world terms of endearment felt so lacklustre in comparison to those in infernal. he would never admit this, but he was… hesitant to use devildom terms of endearment on you.

often times they couldn’t be translated into any human language, nor could the feelings they spoke of be conveyed differently. the things that lucifer wanted to call you were akin to that of a declaration of complete devotion forever and always. even by demon standards they were intense, because they basically promised that even after death, there would be no one else.

his hesitation was not because he was unsure if he felt the emotions they conveyed for you. not at all, he knew his feelings and yours as well.

but you’ve thrown him for a loop. even if he was sure… he wanted to wait a bit before showing you just how deep his feelings ran. because the intensity of it all was something he had never felt for anyone in all his millennia. the fact that he had someone he could even toss around the idea of using those names on… those feelings were just for him to get comfortable with, so that when he was truly ready, he could pull it off without a hitch.

he wondered if lilith had felt for her human anywhere close to what he felt for you, sometimes, but he always buried that thought away as quickly as it popped into his mind.

blame it on his pride getting in the way, or call it what it was- fear of what being in love was doing to him and what it would continue to do to him. and what it meant he would be willing to do for you…

“uh, lucifer? my love? you’re staring off into space, is everything okay?”

your voice brought him out of his thoughts and the concern within it made him warm inside.

he was still leaning over you, hand gently gripping your shoulder, and your face was wrinkled with worry. he loved you.

until he had it all worked out, he’d show you as much as he could through human declarations of love and lots of action.

he looked down at his wrist as if to check a non-existent watch. “fine, I suppose there’s time to spare.”

he let the sound of your victorious laughter wash all over him and bathed in the feeling of your arms around his neck after he crawled over you to reach his side of the bed.

your smile was radiant, and he felt another piece of the armour encasing his heart chip away. he had been feeling that a lot since you first started the exchange program, but even more so since you both began your relationship.

there was no stopping this, he was falling headfirst into unknown territory for the second time in his life, for a completely different reason this time.

but he’d never ask for anything else. because just like the first time, he figured that this could only result in changing his life for the better as well.

once again he had to shake himself out of his thoughts. you were smiling and talking about one thing or another- he missed the start of the conversation- and playing with his tie.

lucifer was not a morning demon. he woke up exhausted, he dreaded the pile of work forever thrown at him. but his resolve was insanely strong.

maybe he’d give in to you more often if it meant he got to have you like this, in his arms, laughing at his ruined resolve and how weak he is for you, for the rest of your life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

haha get it? rest of your life bc you’re mortal and he’s not?

anyway I hope you enjoyed!!

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Angst, grief, sorrow, fighting.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels, here is the next chapter hehe, bit of a sad one but what do we expect from SF&A at this point? Lmaooo. I've almost completely finished writing the whole series, so updates may become more regular as I pump it all out for you. What a journey this has been! Enjoy <3

Chapter 92: Burn Together

To say that things went back to normal would be a farce.

It was all a farce. 

The fake smiles. The small nods. The words of affirmation and condemnation. The false sense of security and even falser acts of content. It was all wrong. It was all changed. And it was all too much.

You spend much of your days in the Garden, sat where you were usually seated, staring out at the water as you tried to uphold some sense of strength. Tried to show some vision of superiority and that the loss of the child was divine intervention. As though the anger and hurt had gone, as though the sadness and regret had left, because you knew it was for the better, or perhaps the Gods had told you so. 

Words came to you rarely as you began to shrink into yourself again, but with each shrinking moment came the bursting strikes of life. Not happiness or joy, not frustration or longing, pure and uncontested rage.

Rage that it happened.

Rage that he had done nothing.

Rage at your stupidity.

Rage at your desire for more.

Aemond did not try to pry words from you, nor did he even try to touch you. He simply let you exist around him, giving you the space to come to him when needed. Late at night, in the darkness of the chambers you would roll to face him, and the most bitter of sobs would leave your lips. 

At first Aemond had been uncertain, and stayed still amongst the sheets, unsure of whether or not to hold you or offer you support. But when you had rolled and pressed yourself into his side, his arms had curled around you in a way that felt natural, as though your body was made to fit between his in such a way, and let you cry against his chest. 

Your clothes, your maids noticed, had begun to wear large on you, finding that you had no want to eat nor any appetite to do so. Even with the gentle encouragement of them both, you still did not find the heart to do it, looking at the bowl of star fruit in front of you, stomach full of lead. 

But Aemond allowed you to do it. 

He allowed you to grieve, but at some point, everyone has their limit, and it seemed that tonight was the night for his. 

“You need to eat, Y/n. You need move past this grief. Do not let it consume you.” He implored, grasping at your cheeks.

You pulled away from him, looking up at him with a shaky lip, “Nothing you do will ever make this okay! Nothing you say will take away what you have already done, or what you are to do.”

“What are you talking about?” He questioned, deep lines in his brow.

“This! Us!” You broke, “All of it. It seems as though the Gods have destined us with nothing but pain and agony, and how much more must I bear? My heart cannot take it, Aemond.” A tear slid down your cheek, “I am tired, but more than this I am so alone. So very much alone even with you standing in front of me. Even as I can reach out and touch you with mine own hands. Even as you promise me sweet nothings, I know that it will never be enough to satiate the hungers of the punishments I will soon be lashed with.”

Aemond shook his head, stepping forward towards you again, “Do you think I am going to hurt you? I’m not going to punish you for losing the child. It was not your fault.”

A sob fell from your lips, “Then why do I feel one coming? Why do I always feel as though I am one hair away from your cruelty? We take one step forward together and five steps back. I have given you everything, and yet what do you give me? Nothing. You did nothing. You stood there and watched as I was brought before Aegon. What if it had been me? I thought it was going to be me! And you stood there like a craven and just watched.”

His violet eye blinked at you, the sapphire beside it, still.

You sucked in a breath again, “You watched as your precious wife, the mother to your child, was brought to the throne by force. You watched as Aegon threatened to take my tongue. And what did you do, Aem? You stood there and did fucking nothing!” Anger rose within you, bubbling viciously beneath your skin, “You stood there like a craven as your brother accused me of treason! Your wife! Your supposed love! Your one childhood companion who did nothing but defend you, no matter the odds or punishment! It has always been me. I have been the only one to ever love you. The only one to ever care. The only one to ever defend you. How many times did I do that for you? From the training yard, to the dragon pit, to the Sept. And when the time came for you to defend my honour, you were that same, scared little boy who would hide in the tunnels after his brother would tease him.” Heat rose on your cheeks as you looked at your uncle, his face stern and his eye narrowed.

"You expected me to do what?" Aemond snapped, "What did you expect me to do in that moment? I was not even told you were being brought to the chambers. I could not have possibly done anything that would not have made it worse. If Aegon had seen me react, he would have delighted in the sight and been moved to do more."

You scoffed, “I am burdened with being wed to a coward who hides behind the illusion of duty. A man who cannot even stand up to his drunken, pathetic, whoring brother.” You forced out a humourless laugh, watching as Aemond became irritated, “My husband who rides the largest dragon in the world, my husband who is a skilled warrior; sits and waits to be told what to do like a dog. Doing everyone else’s bidding.” You stepped closer to him, eyeing him down, “If I had not seen your cock, I would have suspected you were a eunuch.”

“My duty is to my brother, to my mother. To my blood.” He sneered.

“And what of my blood, Aemond? What of our union? What of the prophesies from the Gods? Did they not command you to act as you watched me be dragged by men into the throne room? That babe may have been the Prince that was Promised, and now it is gone. Because of you.”

Aemond huffed, “I could do naught! He is my brother. He is the King.”

“And I am your wife! And the blood of the dragon between us runs thicker than the water of the womb you have shared. Like a scared little boy. Never have I seen you so pathetic. You left me for dead.”

Aemond scowled, “I would never do that to you.”

“And yet, you did. You left me at the hands of your brother. And you watched. You have only lost one eye, yet you are so blinded by your duty to them. I feel as though I have died already. I died the moment I watched you do nothing, as those men touched me, as the pain creeped into my womb. I died the moment I realised I meant nothing to you, and that you would let my fate fall into Aegon’s hands. Is this a cruel joke from the Stranger? Is my true reality too grievous for my soul to take? Am I destined for all eternity to love a man who does not love me back?”

“I do love you.” Aemond insisted, frustration in his tone.

“Then why do you let them hurt me?!” You cried, “Why do you hurt me? The Gods play tricks on my mind and my body, and punish me for your actions. She was your whore. Your bastard. And yet I was punished for it. Not you. Me.”

“I lost the child too, do you not think that it pains me so?”

“I know it does not! You did not feel it as I felt. You did not feel the life leave my body, or the pain that came after. You did not feel it pass through me.” You sniffed, another tear falling.

Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked down at you, voice dangerously low, “I thought I lost you both.”

“And that is where the sickness and depravity of the Gods come to fruition. It is a never ending cycle of hurt and be hurt. I do not know what they have planned for me, but I fear it, Aemond. I fear the path they have paved for me. That child was from them, I know it. I felt it in my bones. And yet we lost it. Will they punish me now for being so careless? Will they punish us both for not ensuring its birth? I cannot continue to wreak the consequences of the men around me. I will break. I will break like poor Helaena did. But even to that, there is nothing I can do because I fell in love with a man who’s actions wound me most terribly. There is this small, foolish piece of me still holding onto hope that the Aemond I grew up with would still care for me as he did.”

“I do. I love you deeply. I would do anything for you, surely you know this.” Aemond began, stepping forward to hold your face tightly in his large palms, thumbs brushing the tears that fell from your cheeks.

“It is okay,” You heaved a breath, “Please just tell me if it is a farce.” You grabbed his wrists almost desperately, “If you only say it so for the treaty. I will understand, I will even make my peace with it.” You said desperately,  “But please, I cannot survive my heart being torn apart by you any longer. I cannot do it, Aemond. I won’t. I will throw myself from Maegor’s Holdfast, I promise you this. I will set you free from these marriage bonds if you so wish, and my spirit from this earthly plane.”

Aemond stepped towards you, grabbing your shoulder and neck, fingers framing your chin, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you, “Eman va moriot jorrāelatan ao.  Kesan va moriot jorrāelagon ao.  Se qēlossās kostagon ropagon hen se jēdar, se nyke iēdrosa jorrāelagon ao.” I have always loved you. I will always love you. The stars could fall from the sky, and I would still love you.  

Aemond’s eye narrowed as he spoke, brow furrowed in a way that creased the scar at his brow, “Eman jorrāelatan ao pār nyke ēlī ilagontan laesi va ao.  Se kesan jorrāelagon ao ēva ñuha mōrī jelevre.” I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. And I will love you until my last breath.

A loud sob left your lips as your heart clenched in your chest at his words.

"Hen se gūrēñare yard, naejot se havor tistālion, ēza va moriot issare ao.” From the training yard, to the kitchen, it has always been you.

“Aemond.” You hands tightened around his wrists in a way that would have been painful as you clutched him for dear life.

The Prince pulled you forward towards him, clutching you against his chest as he let you cry, wrapping his large arms around you, blanketing you in a feeling of safety that only he could bring to you.

You cried into him, feeling the last of your resolve fall away, and the rawness of your grief exposed to the chambers. He held you to him tightly, afraid to let go, your hands tightly wrapped in the front of his tunic.

When Aemond finally pulled back, he brought his lips to yours. It wasn’t burning with passion or desire, it wasn’t laced with regret and grief, instead, his lips moved against yours like a gentle whisper of assurance, a smaller whisper of truth, and the almost invisible whisper of a promise, all of which was overpowered by one thing, and one thing only.

Love.

Your uncle pulled away, looking down at you with nothing but adoration as he spoke again,“Lanta rōvēgrie zaldrīzes perzyssy, hēnkirī hae mēre. Spool hen kasta, spool hen zōbrie. Iā rōvēgrie ropagon naejot letagon lanta hubon. Vējes naejot zālagon hēnkirī.” 

Two great dragon flames, together as one. Spool of green, spool of black. A great fall to tie two threads. Fated to burn together.  

Tears continued to fall, but not because of grief. Not because of the sorrow that swallowed you into its dark pit, its wispy tendrils pulling you beneath its icy surface. Not because of the regret that you had, or guilt that you felt for the Maester.

You cried because you knew it was the truth. 

You knew it to be.

It had to be. 

All of this could not be for naught.

“Avy jorrāelan.” I love you, He whispered again.

You gave him a sad smile in return, “And I love you, but I don’t think I will survive this.”

“I will not let them hurt you.” 

You looked at Aemond carefully, watching as the words left his mouth, at the way his eye held conviction, at the way his mouth held an almost Godly truth.

The way he said it to be true.

As though speaking would make it so.

“You already have.”

Aemond dipped his head towards you again and kissed you, pulling you against his body once more as you wrapped your arms around him, sighing into the kiss, feeling relief in his touch, safety in his arms, warmth in his reach.

Slowly Aemond moved you backwards towards the bed.

Your heart did not race nor skip, your breath did not hitch, and you went with him willingly, hands reaching the bottom of his tunic to begin unclasping the latches that held it together. 

When the last clasp was undone, your hands skated beneath gently, softly, slowly, and moved up his torso, feeling the hard lines of his body, and the warmth of his skin, and the subtle breaths that he took as you made your way to his shoulders, hands moving beneath to slide it off his his body. It fell to the floor, the next his under tunic, and before long, your hands reached forward to unlace his breeches. 

Aemond spun you softly, pushing your hair away from your neck and forward over your shoulder, kissing the bare skin as he unlaced and the back of your gown, the heavy material sagging on your body until it slid to the floor beneath you. 

Breeches and chemises were lost, boots and stockings tossed, until finally the two of you laid atop the green sheets of your bed, his callused hands skating over your skin in reverence, with undying patience and care. 

First he took you with his mouth, bringing you to your peak with the help of his long fingers, stretching you open for him and whispering words of praise against your slick skin. When you peaked with a cry, he kissed his way up your body, through the valley of your breasts until he hovered above you, seeking permission to move as he lined himself with your core. 

You tilted your head upwards, chasing his lips as he slid inside of you slowly, the both of you moaning into each others mouths. Pleasure coursed through you with every thrust, heat blooming in your core as he made love to you for the first time.

It was not possessive or rough, violent or haste, it was slow, and sensual, hands mapping out bodies, savouring the flickering sparks that spouted beneath your skin. The small sighs that he made, the moans as he dipped his head into your neck.

All of it devastatingly pure.

The tears came without you even noticing them there, Aemond finding them upon your cheeks with a moment of concern. He brushed the tears away from your cheeks as he stilled, the length of him throbbing inside of you, desperate to keep moving. 

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head vehemently, “I wish we hadn’t wasted so much time apart.” You whispered, hips moving up to meet his, encouraging him to move again, “I wish the war had not happened.” Aemond slid through your folds as you babbled beneath him, “I wish that we had not done the things we had done.” 

Aemond bent his neck to kiss you again, tongue chasing yours before he pulled away, the breath having been stolen from your lungs.

“We cannot go back, we can only move forward.”

You nodded, weakness and sorrow buried down beneath you as you looked at him with determination.

“Burn together.”

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[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 4

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Chapter 4: Pinky Promise

Summary: The group arrived at the CDC and were welcomed by Dr. Jenner, that asked just for blood samples so they could stay there. The group ate better than they have been eating in weeks and also drank a lot. Y/N and Daryl talk about the past while they share a bottle of whiskey and things get just a little bit out of control.

Warnings: swearing, little angsty, fluffy, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (?), a hot kiss 🥵, Minors do not interact. Nothing extremely sexual and detailed, but if disturbs you in any way it’s better not to read. Maybe some characters are ooc, idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 2,877

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love. I’m consulting a timeline of everything that happened, but it can happen that I put events out of order, but I don’t think it’ll make much difference in the story. ALSO, I’m very nervous about the path this chapter went so I’d be glad if you told me what you think.

As soon as the door opened everyone entered, but there was no one. Where were the person that opened the damn door? After some minutes a man appeared, gun on his hand and he just lowered when you proved you offered no danger. His condition to give you shelter, was to take blood samples of all of you to examine. A fair price for a scientist, how could you deny?

After you picked everything you needed from the cars, the man named Jenner, closed the metal doors and you followed him to get your blood samples taken. You were not over joyed to get your blood taken, because normally your veins were pretry dificult to be found and people would end up torturing you with a needle until they found your vein.

“You’ll probably find my vein here.” You said pointing to a place one inch from your elbow. Yeah, your vein was easy found in a very strange place. “My veins are difficult to find, that’s why I’m telling you.” ‘And because torture is not my kind of entertainment’, you thought.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only do it when I’m sure I found it.” He tried to make you calm. And he didn’t lied, he really waited till he found it and then he collected your blood without much trouble or pain.

He took everybody’s sample and then took you to the kitchen. A full supplied kitchen with good food, alcohol, water and all the appropriate devices to prepare anything.

“Glenn, did we die and I didn’t notice? Cause this looks a lot like heaven.” You commented with the young man.

“If we did, I didn’t notice it too.” He replied. God! You didn’t think you would miss so much having a kitchen with all the appliances you were used to.

You prepared the food together and the drinks were served. Everybody was so happy, having a good meal, drinking and chatting. There was a long time you didn’t feel such a light atmosphere. You all joked and smiled, maybe the alcohol was helping a little.

“Hmmm, never thought I’d taste such delicious wine again.” You commented next to your brother.

“Go easy on the alcohol sis.” Rick told you, as if he knew how to drink.

“Shut up Rick, you know I can handle alcohol better than you.” You said making him have a good laughter, in no way you were a better drinker than him. “Hey! Let a woman have her dreams.” Everyone joined Rick on his laughter, brightening the room with joy.

Very reluctantly Lori gave Carl permission to taste a little of wine, and he hated, so she was happy. Glenn was getting drunk for the first time and all of you were encouraging him, even Daryl, which was really funny to see him all lose and even smiling, genuinely and openly smiling. Alcohol was a dangerous thing, but it could also show you things you didn’t know about other people, good and bad. You sneaked some appetizers to Luna, which she gladly took.

When dinner was over Jenner showed you around, there was rooms where all of you could stay, and bathrooms with hot shower. Oh my God, you couldn’t even remember the last time you took a hot bath. You claimed one of the rooms and went directly to the bath.

You took your time in the bath, washed your hair, let the hot water fall against your back and relax your muscles. It was so good, it had been only two months and you already missed this little luxuries from the old world so bad. When you finished drying yourself, you brushed your hair and put some comfortable clothes, your sleeping shorts and a tank top. Then, you missed something important, where was Luna?

You left your room and passed looking on the rooms that had the door open. You saw Carol putting Sophia to sleep and you couldn’t help, but smile. They deserved happiness and you were glad they were safe here, as you were glad you family was here too.

“Carol, did you see Luna? I can’t find her.” You asked her from the door.

“No, I just came from the rec room with the kids and didn’t see her. Maybe she’s with Rick or Shane?” She suggested, you didn’t know. You didn’t want her messing around in an unknown place.

“Ok, thanks. Gonna continuing looking for her. Have a good night Sophia! And you too Carol, rest yourself.”

“Have a good night Y/N/N” they replied.

You continued looking in the rooms that you could see open, but she was nowhere. You saw the door of Daryl’s room half opened and decided to knock, maybe he saw her somewhere.

“Come in” you heard he say, and you were not expecting the scene. He all cleaned up, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, his back on the wall, sitting in the sofa and Luna all over him.

“Am I interrupting something?” You asked playfully, Luna looked at you and swinged her tail, but she didn’t move from where she was.

“Not my fault she likes me better.” He took the bottle to his mouth all cocky.

“Seriously, I’m already thinking about giving you her custody. It’s obvious she doesn’t love me anymore.” You dramatized sitting on the sofa right next to him.

As soon as you touched the couch, she came all your way with her cold nose, and she laid on both your laps. “I think she wants to say that she likes us both.” You stated.

“Want some?” He offered you the bottle of alcohol.

“Is this even a question? Just give me the bottle Dixon.” You take the bottle and take it to your lips, whiskey was not exactly your favorite drink, but having the alcohol in your system was too good. Just not having to worry about being sober and ready to fight at any moment.

You stayed a long time in silence, just passing the bottle around and sipping from the drink. Here it was, that comfortable silence that you used to share and right now you could do it without worrying much. You rested your head back on the wall and looked at his profile, he was handsome and also cute, you felt kind of lucky for being able to take a look at this pretty serious grumpy face everyday.

“What did ya do before all this?” He asked and sipped on the bottle.

“You mean before I became a professional Zombie killer?” You joked, a bitter taste in your mouth having to talk about your failed career. “I was a vet. What about you?”

He looked at Luna and nodded like it made a lot of sense since you had Luna, but in fact anyone could have an animal. “I’d go around with whatever shit Merle was up to. In few words, I was a nobody. I had nothing as cool as you had.”

“Don’t say this. You weren’t a nobody. In fact, when it all happened, I was unemployed. So if you were a nobody, I was just like you.” Your head still resting on the wall, your eyes still on his profile and you thought how could he think so low of himself.

“Ya weren’t nobody, princess.” He turned to look at you and you swear that your heart skipped a bit when you looked in his cute baby blue eyes. “Ya just didn’t have a job.”

“So didn’t you.” He didn’t understand why you’d try to cheer him up and tell him he was more than what he actually was. Since he could remember he knew everyone thought that the Dixon’s were no good. Nobody wanted to be around his brother or him, and it didn’t change at the quarry. And why should it change now? He’d always be what he was, but you seemed to look at him with a whole different look than anybody else and you never told he was no good or a piece of shit… you mostly had good things to tell him, even when he was a dick with you.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, D.?” You looked at him and you almost could see all the gears working in his mind. You still looked in his eyes, both of your heads resting in the wall.

“Ya think I’m better than I am.” He also looked in your eyes and tried to see anything that showed you were fucking with him, but he didn’t. You were like Rick, you had honest eyes and couldn’t hide your emotions at all even if you tried. And at the moment you didn’t have any bad emotion in your face.

You wanted to say that he thought too low of himself, that he was better than he thought. You could see it, but it was not like you were good with words, and in the last 24 hours you got him upset more times than you would like, even if he was the asshole in one of them. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you couldn’t put yourself to look away from his face, and now your eyes wandered all over his face, from his handsome eyes, to his lips, the small freckles under his eyes and the cute mole above his lips… God! You really wanted to kiss him, and your intoxicated brain could not think straight, if you were sober you’d never have the courage you were feeling at this moment.

He was no different from you, not that he had never spent any time admiring your features, he had done it many times. Your beautiful eyes, your nose, your lips and even your jaw. God, if ever existed one, he had thought more than he would like to admit about running his mouth over your jaw, your lips… kiss, lick and even bite your neck. But before, you were never this close to him and he had never got this drunk with you or near you. He had not felt like this before, like if he didn’t touch someone or were close to someone… he wouldn’t be able to breath. He thought it was pathetic, well that was what Merle would say, because feelings was something only pussies did. The alcohol in his body talked stronger than Merle’s voice in his head, and all he could think was that your faces were a few inches from each other and that he could feel your warm whiskey breath and the smell of your clean hair, and when you crashed your lips against his, he wasn’t able to control anymore.

You pressed your lips against his and you didn’t expect he’d kiss you back, you expected him to push you away and tell you to fuck off. But once your lips were on his, he kissed you back. Your hand went to his face and caressed him, while his hand went to the back of your head pulling you closer and you couldn’t help but feel more invested into the kiss, your lips moving in sync, your tongue caressing his bottom lip and he couldn’t help but open his lips and let you deepen the kiss, take your way, do whatever you wanted to do… He was completely at your mercy and at this moment he wasn’t even ashamed of admiting it, at least for himself. It didn’t take much longer for you to part from the kiss, you needed to breath. You pulled apart slowly, forehead against forehead, heavy breaths and rosy moistured lips. You were so into the kiss that you didn’t even noticed that Luna had gone to the floor, your bodies were much too against each other and one of your legs were on top of his.

When the reality hit, of what had just happened, he pushed himself to the farthest side of the sofa from you. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have done this.” He got up and were about to leave the room, but you were faster holding his hand.

“Daryl, you can’t leave your own room.” You said getting up and trying to look into his eyes as much as it was possible standing up, since your height difference. “If someone have to leave, it must be me.” He didn’t say anything, red cheeks and trying to piece everything that just happened together. “I iniciated it. The fault is on me. Did I kiss bad? Did you not like it?”

“No, it was good. It’s not…”He tried to find his words, but his thoughts overflowed his mind while his brain separated the things he could say and the things he couldn’t. “We’re friends, friends don’t do it.” He had never called you a friend out loud, but this was the perfect time to say it instead of saying how fucked he was and how he didn’t know how to do emotions, he didn’t believe in love or that he could be loved, and how you two getting involved like this would just fuck the whole group.

“Well… when friends get drunk shit happens sometimes. Never happened to me, but… there’s a first time for everything.” You over explained a little, because you were kind of nervous. “It’s all my fault, don’t blame yourself and don’t worry too much. There was a long time I didn’t had a good kiss and you were just too cute... I’m sorry.”

“I did it too, ya don’t need to be sorry.” He averted your gaze, shy, still concerned with everything going on his mind.

“This will not change things between us, right?” You asked and he didn’t answer, still avoiding your eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit. You had probably ruined one of the few good things you had in this shitty world. “Daryl, promise you’ll not avoid me and we’ll still be the same.”

“Ya won’t rest until I promise ya something today, aren’t ya? What is it with ya and promises?” Why were you always asking things from him? At the same time he wanted to tell you to fuck off, he wanted you to be close, at least close enough so he could keep an eye on you.

“I just don’t want things to get odd between us.” You raised your hand in between both of you, all fingers down and just your pinky up. He looked at your hand and could not believe that you were doing it. “Ok, now promise that we’ll still be friends.”

“What are ya? Five?” Who in your age made pinky promises? Why did you have to be so… vivid? “Fine. Let’s make the fucking pinky promise.”

He took your pinky in his and then you sealed it with your thumbs. “Happy?”

“Yes, now I can rest assured that we’re still friends.” You smiled and he rolled his eyes, but deep inside he felt a small warmth and oh, he was so afraid of this, because he had never felt anything like that before and he had no idea of what to do with it. “Have a good night Daryl, and thanks for the drink.”

“Luna, come on girl. Let’s go to sleep.” You called for the german shepherd, she got up from where she was laying, got a lick on Daryl’s hand and waited for him do caress her head, after it she followed behind you to your room.

You closed the door, put your back on it and slided to the floor. You could still feel his lips on yours, his hand at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair and the heat of his body. How could you ever have a normal life after this? It could sound dramatic, but there was so long you weren’t this close to a man… Years actually, you didn’t even get on dates after Paul and he never did you feel this good as just kissing and touching Daryl made you feel. Fuck. Shane was right, you definitely had a crush on him, maybe more than this. And you Y/N Grimes didn’t do ‘more than this’, not anymore. You didn’t even do ‘less than this’.

You got up and decided it was time to go to bed and try to sleep. Luna laid by your side and you snuggled to her. “What should I do Luna?”

“Woof!” She said and gave a lick to your face.

“I already did it Luna, and I don’t know if it was the correct thing to do. I didn’t even know if he liked it.” Anyone would think you were crazy, but talking to Luna from time to time kept your sanity in place. “I’m not you, you know?”

Final Note: Thanks for everyone reading, liking, reblogging and commenting, it’s really good to receive your feedback.

Taglist: @sunnybunnyy2

[prettybean]

GHOST

“A letter for you”

prompt: you were killed in action, ghost writes a letter for you

!! (ANGST) !!

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Hey,

It's been a week since your body was found on this beach, and a week since my heart stopped beating like it did before. I knew we would get hurt, I told you so many times that I stopped believing it too.

I choose to love you every day like it’s my last, and I’m living with the consequences.

It's cold today and my hands are shaking as I write these words to you that you will never read. It hurts.

When you and I were together, time stopped until we felt alone in the crowd. You told me: We are born alone and die in the hearts of others, we are angels with only one wing and we will only be able to fly by staying together. Now the angel is you, and I am falling from the sky, like rain, like tears falling from my eyes. I cried so much I started hating myself.

Some wounds don't go away over time and are deeper than they look: they heal on the skin, but they change you on the inside. It's hard to breathe if I have no strength left in me, I'm unstable, everything around me is falling apart, I'm at my limit.

I am surrounded only by eternal loneliness and the memory of a smile that is now gone. I live in a cage built by others. I would like to have you here to make you promise, before it's too late, to remember how I was a long time ago.

Now I look in the mirror and I'm paralysed, everything in my heaven is rotting, but not too long ago I was smiling too.

Do you remember when it was all ours? When we made love secretly in your hallway? When Soap teased you because you blushed at the thought of me? Every kiss you gave me in secret, away from prying eyes. Remember me and everything that has been; you know there's no future for those who live in the past. You taught me that we only find the right path when we get lost and are alone, that the best dreams are born from nightmares. I will always be here, by your side; no one will divide us. In life, you always lose everything you want; you can't go back in time. Your memory is inside me; in my memory, you are again that beautiful flower that made me fall in love

Take me with you, and I will take you with me. Together, we will overcome this pain, even if it's difficult, so everyone will know that I love you.

Tomorrow will be a better day because I know there's a place for us. It's cold today, I’m pointing a Glock at my head; I can't feel anything anymore. I want to forget the reality that divided us. I'll wait immobile for death, and now, you know

we can say goodbye

[coconutcordiale]

steady pt three (i keep all my affection in a paper cup)

pt one | pt two | pt three | masterlist | prequel

pairing- rooster x female bartender!reader (no y/n)

synopsis-

You want to tell her you know how she feels, it’s truly unfair for someone to look this good with that mustache. There’s a bead of sweat rolling down his neck to his collarbone and you want nothing more than to follow it with your tongue. Alice looks like she agrees with you.

Completely unaware of his own effect, Bradley just swipes his card.

warnings- 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex oops, light daddy kink/bradley bradshaw is a soft daddy dom that just wants to take care of his girl this is the hill i'll die on, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), lil bit of praise kink (can i write smut without someone -especially rooster- saying good girl, prob not), breeding kink if you squint but like...don't it's like half a line & i'm scared of kids so it's not really breeding kink idk, no kink negotiation here so not a good example of what you should do irl, brief mention of past infidelity (no current cheating)

length- 5.6k ish

an- i can't believe this is over this is literally the most difficult thing i've ever written, also for real publix sandwiches are the goat i wouldn't share mine with bradley. I’m sorry the end was so cheesy I hate myself lol ok ily all bye

this chapter title is also from only for a moment by lola marsh lmao i basically wrote 15k based on one song that's less than 3 minutes long

You slam the door a little harder than necessary when you get to the rental car.

“Did you get the closure you needed?” Bradley asks tentatively, probably wary of the chaos you know is simmering under your skin.

“Closure from another person is a myth,” you answer firmly. “Only you can give yourself closure.”

“So, no, in other words.”

You appreciate that he’s at least trying to keep the amusement out of his voice as you repeat his cheesy quotes back to him, but it's short-lived because everything feels too small, too suffocating in the muggy Austin air.

You almost don't tell Bradley, but a part of you recognizes you need to get the words out. That someone else needs know about you and Jake so it doesn't subsist only in your eyes, so it doesn't blind you as it disrupts your field of vision, bright spots of an incoming migraine.

“He said he’s in love with me.”

His knuckles go white around the steering wheel, and you raise an eyebrow.

After a beat he relaxes, tone frustratingly even. “Bold, considering he’s still married, right?”

“Bold,” you scoff. “That’s one way to put it. I didn’t bother to ask. No ring, but we all know how you pilots are about rings.”

“Why?”

You shrug. Because it doesn’t matter.

“I want to ask you something, but you have to promise not to get mad at me,” he continues, gaze fixed on the road.

Even though you know you’re unlikely to get mad at him, you grumble anyways. “No promises.”

“I’m not trying to sound judgmental. You obviously loved him. But can I ask, why you stayed so long? Wasn’t it excruciating?”

Loved. Past tense. You're surprised as you realize how true that feels, that Jake has maybe, finally, become someone you loved and not someone your heart still beats for.

“I’ve never been in a serious relationship before,” you admit, softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “At a certain point, maybe I started to think there was something wrong with me, a reason I wasn’t worth the effort of a real relationship. Like maybe what I had with Jake was better than I would ever get from someone else.”

You hear a pained noise from him, but barrel on, knowing if you don’t get the words out right now, they may live inside you forever.

“It wears on you after awhile. My guy friends are always acting sarcastic about it, wow must be so horrible to be pretty, so shitty that everyone wants to sleep with you. People say it enough, men confirm it with their actions, and eventually, you start to feel like that’s all you’re worth.

You shudder; you’ve never admitted that out loud before.

"I know what it looks like, but it was more than sex. I’d just never felt that way about anyone before.”

Bradley pulls into the parking lot of your hotel, but you’re staring straight ahead, admission having frozen you in place.

“I don’t know how to make you believe you’re worth more than that. Seresin was practically falling apart, and he hasn’t even seen you in almost a year, for fuck’s sake. Those guys that missed out on knowing you, they’re morons.”

He pauses and takes a deep breath, looks over at you and you feel his dark eyes burning into the side of your face.

“Cali, I—if you think he’s being serious, if you want to be with him, I know it’s complicated, but I have your back.”

Any ice that was thawing around you suddenly frosts again.

“You think I should try to work things out,” you say slowly. “With Jake.”

He flinches. “That’s what you’re taking from—fuck, never mind. I didn’t say that. I just want you to know I’m here for you, whatever you decide.”

Your stomach is sinking and you’re not entirely sure why.

“Thank you,” you manage to murmur, squeezing his forearm affectionately before getting out of the car, worried he’ll see the tears forming in your eyes.

It stays sunk as you get back to your hotel room, as you get ready for bed silently, as you bury yourself under the covers and turn your back to him.

He feels miles away in the other bed, somehow farther away than he does with a flight of stairs separating you at home in Florida.

Sure, a mini vacation to a wedding (even if it is to Texas of all places) is a little intense for friends, but that’s yours and Bradley’s thing if you’re being honest. You guys have spent the last six months being a little intense and over-committed. Being the only things to pull each other out of the dark places you longed to hide in.

You agreed to come, as a friend. It’s not like you guys pretended to be dating, it’s not like he didn’t introduce you to everyone as his friend from Florida.

You’re not sure when you started hoping for more, when you started thinking there was something promising constructing itself in the space between your apartments.

+

Rooster immediately knows it was a mistake to visit you at work. But you’re working the early shift and things have been so off since you guys got back from Texas. It’s like you’ve retreated into your shell, like you’ve put back on every layer he spent months peeling away.

You smile when you see him, but there’s something hollow in it, something not all there.

He’s pretty sure he overstepped asking you about Jake, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up again, how to apologize without making it worse.  

He couldn’t help it; he saw how Jake looked at you. Understands how Jake feels, knows all too well the magnetic pull of you, the involuntary twitch of fingers to touch you. But the way you stole glances after you stopped panicking at his presence…well he’s fairly certain you’ve never looked at him the way you tried to hide you were looking at Jake.

He felt all the air empty from the room the moment you two were aware of each other's presence.

Bradley doesn’t know how to compete with a love like that.

Despite all that he can’t stay away from you, can’t spend another night in his apartment wondering what you’re thinking.

Unfortunately, that means he’s in a touristy tiki bar, politely letting a girl chat him up while you busy yourself making sweet cocktails with overcomplicated garnishes just out of his line of sight.

She’s pretty. And nice. She’s drinking a Jungle Bird which he knows you don’t detest making, so he doesn’t feel bad when she orders another to stick around and talk to him. She laughs at his jokes and doesn’t tell him he’s an idiot for not liking The Office. As far as he can tell (given that he met her about five minutes ago) there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her.

Except for the fact that she’s not you, of course.

She excuses herself to the bathroom and you make your way over to his side of the bar, wordlessly putting a fresh beer in front of him.

“You should ask her out,” you suggest. “She’s gorgeous.”

Bradley stalls, blinks twice. His tongue is suddenly sticking to the roof of his mouth. “You think so?”

You roll your eyes. Usually, he secretly loves how much you roll your eyes, the fire that’s always lit behind them. Loves the bratty disposition you manage to express with one little look. He’s always liked how expressive your features are, how he can read your mood before you even say a word.

Right now though, it just makes him uneasy.

“Everyone thinks so, look at her.”

“No—that’s not what I—” he stutters. “I meant, you really think I should ask her out?”

“Yeah, she obviously likes you. It’s not like she’s going to say no.”

Bradley hates the way his heart sinks at your suggestion, but nods anyways, choosing not to correct your assumption that he’s stammering with nervousness over this girl he just met. He desperately wants to change the subject, to make sure he’ll be able to see you outside of the shell you put on for work.

“I have your suitcase at home if you want to get it after work. Sorry, I forgot it was still in the Bronco when I left the other morning.”

When he left for work after carrying your sleeping form up to his apartment, not wanting to risk waking you by searching for the keys to your place, because you looked too peaceful for him to wake up after the flight back.

He forced himself to sleep on the couch, despite how pretty you looked in his bed, how badly he wanted to crawl in with you, tell his students he got stuck in Texas, and keep you in bed with him forever.

He walks home when you tell him you'll come by after Beth takes over, after Jungle Bird slides him her number on a napkin, hoping it’ll clear his head. Sits on the beach, watches the sky darken over the water. Wonders if he should play it cool and wait to text her. Wonders if he even wants to text her at all.

He knows he’s ready to date again after Lauren, has been for a while now, so eventually, he does text, because pining after you isn’t going to get him anywhere.

He thinks he can be your friend, if that's all he's going to get.

He’s just barely gotten through his front door when you knock, sweaty and red-faced.

“Just got back from a run,” you tell him, clearly having seen the question perched on his lips. You’re still breathing a little hard and it’s sending his blood in the opposite direction of where he needs it to be going.

The sweat dripping down into the valley of your breasts is giving him decidedly not friendly thoughts.

“You hate running,” he says instead, brows furrowed.

You shrug. “Did you make plans with the girl from the bar?”

He rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“Yeah,” he answers finally. “We’re going out this weekend.”

“That’s great,” you say flatly, immediately turning to leave, picking up your forgotten suitcase a little too aggressively, like it’s done something to offend you.

“Hey, wait, hold on.” Bradley reaches out for your arm, tugging gently and forcing you to stop in your tracks. “Are we in a fight right now? Is this about the wedding?”

“No,” you answer petulantly. You won’t meet his eyes, instead staring down at where his fingers encircle your wrist.

“No, we’re not in a fight or no, this isn’t about the wedding?”

“This isn’t about the wedding,” you reply through clenched teeth. “Not entirely, at least.”

He can’t help but let pride swell through him at your words, knowing a few months ago you would’ve lied about being fine until you were blue in the face.

It still feels like he’s taking a shot in the dark, a tiny flicker of hope igniting in his chest. “You told me to ask her out.”

You cringe, face twisting in pain like you just sucked on a lemon. “Only because you were pushing me to go back to Jake! I thought that was what you wanted. I thought—”

You’re breathing hard, but he’s pretty sure your chest is heaving with emotion, not from your run. Your mouth is open to continue when he says your name.

Not Cali. It sounds hard and serious as it passes his lips. You wince and he immediately feels bad.  

“Stop,” he continues firmly, determined not to lose his nerve at the hurt crossing your features, willing himself not to get worked up and loud. “Don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I was doing. I know we went to the wedding as friends, but it’s stupid to deny there’s been something building between us for a while now.”

Your expression softens and Bradley knows instantly that you feel it too.

“I just didn’t want you to shut the door on Jake out of some obligation to me. I want you to choose me, for me. Not because I’m not him.”

He sees the moment it clicks for you, the second you start seeing how the wedding must’ve looked through his eyes.

“I’ll never go back to Jake,” you say quietly. “For lots of reasons that have nothing to do with you.”

Something inside him unfurls, anxiety sitting in his stomach loosening, but he’s not done, can’t be done, until his intentions are crystal clear.

“What do you want? Do you even know? Because I know what I want.” He grabs your arms, turning your body to face him fully. Hooks a finger under your chin, making you look up at him as he tries to gather the courage to say this next part. “And I can’t settle for anything less. If you want casual, I can’t give you that.”

“I don’t want you to go out with her.” It’s as good as an admission from you, he knows that.

Dark eyes warm as the beginning of a smile stretches across his face. His chest is lightening, warmth bubbling within. “How come?”

“You’re smart enough to do the math,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. But there’s a bright, happy tinge edging at the corners of your mouth.

He’s full-on grinning now, reaching to pull you into him by the waist. He tucks his face into your hair, so you won’t see the giddy expression on his face. “Tell me anyways.”

“Want you all to myself,” you mumble, lips ghosting over his skin to make him shudder.

You might have more to say, but Bradley used all his patience flying today and his hand tilts your chin to him, lips covering yours before you can make another sound.

You make a tiny mewl in surprise against his mouth as he grips you, tongue sliding past your lips and his blood immediately rushes south.

Making a face when Bradley manages to pull himself away from your lips, you look down at your sweaty sports bra. “I need to shower.”

“Shower here,” he suggests. “I’ll make us dinner. You can spend the night, maybe? And I won’t sleep on the couch this time? I promise I’ll behave.”

Bradley sees his hopeful eyes mirrored back at him when he finally takes a chance to look at your face.

Things are so shakily composed between the two of you, that he’s somewhat afraid if he lets you go back downstairs to your apartment you’ll spiral and come up with a hundred reasons not to give you guys a shot.

Maybe he’s being insecure, sue him.

You seem to understand where he’s coming from, the tenuous connection hanging delicately in the air between the two of you. Nodding, your fingers play with the hem of his shirt fitfully before you rush to his shower, like if you waited for another second you might not be able to peel yourself off him.

He inflates with pride at that too.

Bradley overestimated his abilities, probably, when he promised to behave. He didn’t think about how hard it would be not to think about you naked in his shower while he seeks out ingredients to throw together for dinner.

Didn’t think about how good you’d smell, fragrant with his body wash as you wrap your arms around him from behind.

Bradley’s movements are shaky, and jerky when he turns around to kiss you. He clears his throat, and only just barely keeps himself from running his hands underneath the baggy top that hangs off your shoulders. “Is that my shirt?”

You freeze. “I…yes. Is that okay? I didn’t have anything with me, but I can run downstairs…”

You say something under your breath that he can’t quite make out. Your face is completely unreadable and Bradley’s body flashes hot and cold every other second.

“No, don’t, it, uh, looks good on you,” he says finally when he’s pretty sure he’s not going to rip it in the process of pulling it over your head.

Bradley’s taking deep breaths, using grounding techniques. He breathes in through his nose, and out through his mouth. He knows you’re not trying to tease him. You’re not doing anything, not really.

This is Florida, everyone is scantily clad more often than they’re not.

If he’s going to behave, he’s going to have to tap into that self-control he beat himself over the head with every time he saw you in a bikini before today.

It’s just so much worse now that he’s allowed to touch you.

“It’s hard, with you looking like that in my shirt. I want to fuck you stupid,” he admits.

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

“But I think we should take things slow. I don’t want to mess this up by jumping in before we’re ready.”

His cock twitches when he notices the disappointment you’re not trying very hard to hide.

“Okay,” you pout. “You’re probably right.”

You turn to open the fridge, leaning to grab a water and his shirt rides up a little higher on your already bare legs.

Bradley groans, head falling back to stare at the ceiling. “Baby, you’re killing me.”

+

You can’t believe how much you hated Florida beaches when you first moved. The Keys are beautiful, with endless white sand and clear water.

You convince Bradley to stop by Publix on the way back, with promises of pasta for dinner. You really just want a sub to take to work tomorrow, but you’re not going to tell him that.

The poor cashier practically swallows her tongue when she sees Bradley, shirt open over his bare chest and covered in sand, sunglasses sliding down his nose that’s pink from the sun. He makes sure to look at her name tag and smiles genuinely at her when he asks, Alice, how’s your day going?

You’re going to pass out.

You want to tell her you know how she feels, it’s truly unfair for someone to look this good with that mustache. There’s a bead of sweat rolling down his neck to his collarbone and you want nothing more than to follow it with your tongue. Alice looks like she agrees with you.

Completely unaware of his own effect, Bradley just swipes his card.

It’d be infuriating if it wasn’t so adorable.

This time you’re counting all the ways he’s not Jake, but it’s a good thing. Jake would’ve preened, leaned into smirk, just so he could see the blush rise on the poor girl’s cheeks.

It’s not that that’s bad, you know you do the same sometimes. Smirking at guys you know are giving you a once-over while you make their drinks, sparkle in your eyes because you don’t always hate the attention.

But it’s oddly endearing with Bradley, how he doesn’t seem to know the effect he has on people. Like he doesn’t fly multi-million-dollar planes for a living, like he couldn’t use that to get any girl he wanted in his bed.

He’s just being mean when you guys get to the car, flinging his unbuttoned shirt off and into the back of the Bronco and muttering something about tan lines.

Your mouth is watering.

When you get back to your complex, you snag his forgotten shirt and form a plan.

“Caliiiiiii,” Bradley sings as he bursts into your apartment. It’s a good thing you never listened to Beth about locking your front door because shirtless Bradley Bradshaw is a sight to behold. “Showered so you wouldn’t complain about—”

You hear him stop dead in his tracks at the entrance to your kitchen. When you look over your shoulder at him those plush lips are parted, eyes roaming over the back of you. You’re clad in one of his marginally less offensive button-ups (at least there aren’t any birds on it), thrown hastily over your bikini.

“How gentlemanly of you to shower for dinner with little ol’ me,” you giggle. “But I have to admit I haven’t had time for more than rinsing the sand off.”

He ignores you completely, tone accusing like you hadn’t spoken at all. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

You consider denying it but can’t fully hold back the smirk forming. “Well, you seemed to enjoy it when I wore your shirt last time.”

Bradley just nods dumbly.

“Anyways, don’t get too excited, this is one of three dishes I can actually make, but I thought we’d…” You trail off because he’s suddenly right behind you, crowding you so you feel the heat radiating from him as he brackets you with his arms.

“Nope,” he says tersely. “Dinner can wait. Turn off the stove.”

He turns you around so he can kiss you, slow and deliberate. His tongue slides between your lips assertively, hands tapping on your thighs as a sign for you to hop backward and up on the counter. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

“Wait, what?” You ask, but he’s already on his knees.

You should’ve known then and there he was going to be nothing but trouble.

The first time Bradley makes you come, you’re still in the kitchen. He’s kneeling with his face buried in your pussy, skimpy bathing suit bottoms long flung behind him, lips curled around your clit insistently even as your thighs clutch his head in a way that must be uncomfortable. After all his talk of wanting to wait and do things right, it’s almost funny. Would be, if your mind wasn’t currently busy whiting out.

The second time, he drags you to the living room before you’ve had any time to recover and pulls your back against his chest in front of the couch. The tall mirror in the corner of the living room displays the absolute debauchery unfolding on the floor in the middle of your apartment.

“Keep your legs open, baby. You can do that, right? Be good for me?”

You’re nodding before you even know what you’re doing, head jerking up and down like a bobblehead.

“Fuck, look at you,” he croons in between the nips he’s determinedly pressing on your neck. Barely even a command, you still look up, watching your reflection as his lips trace across the top of your shoulder, mustache leaving red marks in its wake. One hand is busy tugging the strings of your bathing suit top loose so he can toss it out of his way, while the other drifts to tease your inner thighs.

Bronze eyes meet yours in the mirror and he grins, like the cat that got the canary. “Gorgeous, darlin’.” And then he pushes two fingers into you without warning, the stretch making you keen as your head falls back on his shoulder. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve thought about you like this.”

“Ohmygo—Bradley.” You turn your head to kiss him, but it ends up being little more than your lips slotting together and you moaning straight into his mouth as he fucks his fingers in relentlessly, your hands gripping his arms like they can’t decide if they want to pull him in closer or push him away, oversensitive as you are from his mouth.

You sink into him, into his hands, his grip. Let it erase the gravity that keeps you tethered to the ground, let yourself flutter high above the clouds.

You don’t even realize how close you are until he curls his fingers inside you to graze that soft spot, thumbing at your clit. His other hand palms your tit and tweaks your nipple at the same time his teeth close on your neck and you’re done for, letting it crash into you, cunt clenching around his fingers and back arching away from his chest.

It takes you a few seconds to come down, eyes closed as you blindly turn your head in search of Bradley’s mouth. He kisses you sweetly, but briefly and you make a noise of discontent when he pulls away. You open your eyes to glower at him but when you do, you see a filthy gleam in his eyes that warms you straight to your core like you didn’t just come twice in two different rooms of your house.

His fingers are suddenly pressing at your lips, and you watch his eyes glaze over as you take them in and suck, licking your release from his fingers. You’re suddenly very, very aware of how hard he is behind you, thighs clenching at the realization that he’s straining against his shorts, grinding against your ass because he’s so turned on from getting you off.

God, he’s so perfect it’s not even fair.

His digits in your mouth are giving you your own wicked ideas, about returning the favor as you wriggle your way around to face him. It’s a good thing his other arm immediately goes to support you because you’re pretty sure your legs are made of jelly.

He seems to read your mind, or maybe just the way your cheeks hollow around his fingers as you look down to the bulge in his pants, lips already forming wicked promises as he pulls his hand away from you. “Next time, baby. Need to be inside you.”

The high-pitched whimper that leaves you at that would be embarrassing if you could currently remember that you have downstairs neighbors. You can’t, though, so who cares.

“Want you to ride me,” he grunts. “Have to see how gorgeous my girl looks bouncing in my lap. Can you do that for me?”

To be honest, you’re not sure you can. It’s a 50/50 chance your legs will give out the moment Bradley stops holding you up, but you want to, want to so badly.

You nod anyways, figuring odds are Bradley will catch you if you melt into the floor, and he swings around so he can lay flat on the rug. His shirt slips off your shoulders, getting trapped around your elbows as you lean forward to support yourself on his chest. You’re about to fling it off when he makes a strangled noise, hands going to bring the material back up.

“Baby, please.” There’s a little whine in Bradley’s voice that turns you inside out. “Keep it on.”

That sweetness, that little crack in his dominance is way hotter than it has any right to be.

You make quick work of his shorts, biting your lip as you pull him out, his tip red and leaking precum.

“Christ, Bradley, this how you got your callsign?” You manage to mumble as he pulls you up to balance your hand on his chest again.

The bastard winks. “I know you can take it. Been so good for me, why stop now?”

Using your free hand to guide you, you sink down slowly, not bothering to hold in the moans at the stretch of him.

Stars are bursting behind your eyes that are squeezed tight against the intensity of it, your slick walls are oversensitive and shaking already. Bradley’s hands are clenched on your hips, trying not to move before you’re ready.

You roll your hips, starting to find your rhythm, and he groans, head thumping back against the floor.

When he looks back up at you his eyes are almost completely black. “Look so fucking beautiful bouncing on my cock, darlin'.”

He reaches up to grab your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples just to make you squirm even more, before trailing his fingers down to your clit as he starts shifting up to meet the grind of your hips and it’s so much, too much, sending sparks straight through you.

You shudder. “Bradley—da—I can’t.”

There’s something knowing in his gaze, at your pace stuttering, at your half-formed words trying to claw their way out of your throat. He slows as you do, ever so slightly pulling his finger from your clit. “Need a break, baby?”

You bite your lip, refusing to meet his molten gaze, giving only a tiny shake of your head, trying to find your rhythm again.

When he smirks, you can feel it permeating the air around you. “That’s what I thought. One more, I know you can give me one more.”

He plants his feet flat on the floor behind you, giving himself the power and leverage to fuck you in earnest from below. You’re trembling, you know sounds are leaving your mouth, but you’ve no idea if they’re words at this point.

You’re not fluttering above the clouds anymore, you’re flying, speeding through, fast and hard and riotous.

Bradley’s voice is low and gravelly, but he’s looking up at you with reverence. “It’s okay, baby, you can let go. I’ve got you, gonna take care of my girl.”

“Daddy,” you whine, any sense of coherency, shame, or worry having left you two orgasms ago.

The sound that rips from Bradley’s chest at that is rough and guttural, hands going to your hips in a bruising hold. “That’s right, gonna come for daddy like a good girl, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, babbling, keening yesdaddyyesfuckbradley— You dig your nails into his chest as it hits you. Electricity ripples under your skin, through your veins, dominoes cascading down and hitting every nerve ending in your body. It’s right on the edge of pain, body worn out and spent from tensing and releasing.

“Fuck, baby, so gorgeous when you come on my cock, gonna fuck my girl so full,” he grunts, big hands bouncing you like a ragdoll in his lap.

Even through the fog, his words hit you hard. “Fuck—please, daddy.”

His thrusts get shallower, wilder, before his back arches from the floor, mouth spilling incoherent praise, holding you down onto him as he spills inside of you.

You slump down onto him, the only sound in the room yours and Bradley’s heavy breathing.

You’re falling apart, body trembling and shaking, and you’re still on the floor. You’ve no idea how you’ll survive when Bradley finally takes you to a bed.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “And here I was thinking you couldn’t get any hotter.”

You flush pink immediately, wincing as you move to get off him, wetness sliding down your thighs. He scoops you up almost immediately, carrying you to the shower and mumbling under his breath about making sure to keep daddy’s cum inside of you.

“Oh my god, Bradley,” you whine. “I can’t go again."

The pasta is completely unsalvageable by the time you get out of the shower. He’s lucky you’re willing to share your precious sandwich with him.  

When you see your downstairs neighbor the next day, she immediately reddens and turns on her heel to get away from you.

+

You’re back at the beach when Penny gets a call from you.

“Burning off some energy,” you tell her when she asks what you’re up to. “I’ve had a lot of that lately.”

“Should’ve just let me introduce you to Rooster from the beginning.”

“Who says this has anything to do with Rooster?” You ask, even though both of you know you’re lying through your teeth.

“Nothing wrong with being happy, honey.” You can hear her smiling through the phone.

“I might actually be happy?” You joke. “Is that what this is?”

“You guys are in the honeymoon phase. Every song on the radio is about you, neither of you can do anything wrong—”

“Oh, he does plenty wrong, believe me—”

Penny isn’t bothering to hide her laugh anymore, but her tone is still soft and caring. “It’s sweet. Rooster’s a good guy. He’s been through a lot.”

“He is. I’m kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop,” you admit. “Wish I could just enjoy it.”

“It’s hard. You don’t give your heart away easily,” Penny responds like you’re easy to read, easy to understand.

Maybe you are.

“You wouldn’t be taking this chance unless he was worth it,” she adds when you don’t answer, too busy thinking about how maybe that mask you’ve always worn isn’t as opaque as you thought it was.

Maybe that’s fine. Maybe you really are as strong as you pretended to be with that mask.

That’s the thing about masks. Sometimes you realize they’re more a part of you than you ever thought. When you thought you were faking it the whole time.

“He’s definitely worth it.”

Rooster raises an eyebrow at you, having come back to the tree you’ve taken residence under.

“Talking about my other boyfriend,” you tease, trying not to get distracted by the swimsuit that seems to be riding lower than it was before he ventured into the water.

“Hand the phone to Rooster, I want to talk to him.”

You giggle, sticking it out in his direction. “Penny wants to talk to you.”

“If you think my loyalty here lies with you, you're sorely mistaken,” Penny says, warning dancing all over her tone.

“You don’t have to be worried, Pen.” Bradley looks at you, eyes warm, fingers drifting up your legs. “If anyone’s gonna get their heart broken here, it’s me.”

d a y 3 6 7

You don’t notice the date, but a year since you moved to Florida, almost to the day, you realize you’re in love with Bradley Bradshaw.

As it turns out, loving Bradley is like flying high above the clouds.

[jinxhallows]

Uninvited [ The Finale Part 2 ]

Uninvited. a short-ish series ft. Felix, Chan and Hyunjin (& a sprinkle of Jisung for a little razzle dazzle)

cw: 100% AU, afab reader, blood and gore descriptions, ritual self-bloodletting, supernatural creature themes/tropes, vampire theme/tropes, hybrid theme/tropes.

word count: 6.0k (woo dis a big boi!)

-

Part I - click here

Part II - click here

Part III (explicit content) - click here

Part IV - click here

Part V (explicit content) -click here

Part VI -click here

Part VII - click here

Part VIII - click here

Part IX - click here

Part X - click here

The Finale Pt. 1 - click here

-- SO IT HAS COME TO THIS. THE END OF THIS JOURNEY. I love each and everyone of you that took the time to read my story. This was so much fun! I really enjoy AU writing and supernatural tropes. Please be kind to yourselves ! <3

**taglist <3 (If I missed anyone let me know! it wasnt on purpose i tried to comb all my posts and make sure )

@planetdemon ; @a-person-with-void ; @haleyms ; @wonhottcakes ; @hydroyaksha ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @sooinvu ; @ninjaleeknow ; @thegoddessharmony ; @kittycatkrissa ; @ominous-crow ; @sikebishes ; @strawberriesandknives ; @violetpenguinkris ; @koovvie ;

-----

The Final Chapter (Part Deux) 

“Don’t peek!” 

“I’m not peeking, I promise.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

You press your fingers together firmly resting them against Chan’s eyes as you guide him past the large cardboard boxes that were stacked alongside the walls, a few sit on the floor in the middle of the bedroom.  You’re penguin waddling behind him and end up almost tripping. 

“Hey! You’re supposed to have hybrid coordination here!” You chide as he laughs. 

“I’m a hybrid, I’m not Superman!” 

You make a face, even though he can’t see it. 

“What’s Superman got to do with your garbage coordination when your eyes are covered?”  

Although Chan’s placement is perfect for the surprise, right in front of the bathroom sink and facing the mirror; he can’t help the dismay at your question and he grasps your wrist, slowly removing your hands as he turns to face you. 

“You don’t know Superman has x-ray vision?” He almost looks hilariously disgusted with you. 

“Syu-puh-man yourself into the mirror and look at all my hard work!” You mock as you spin him by his shoulders to the sink. 

“Are you making fun of my acc--” Chan finally faces the mirror, but pauses instantaneously, barely recognizing the beast reflected in front of him.  He hadn’t had such dark hair in ages. 

“Do you love it?” You say with a wide grin. 

“Little witch I--” he runs his fingers through the deep brown, black hair. It was textured in its naturally wavy state after being freshly washed and towel dried.  

“It's been so long... I love it.” He shakes his shaggy hair out, his bangs falling perfectly on his forehead.  He looks so innocent and unsuspecting like this, especially with his new color.  “Do you know how difficult it was to keep that blue? God...” he scoffs, and you giggle as he wraps his arms around you.  He’s wearing dark pajama pants, and you’re comfortable in an oversized gray tee and an extra pair of his sweatpants. 

“Well, you’re welcome.” You smile as his embrace tightens and he kisses your lips once, twice, before nuzzling his nose into the fine hairs that had escaped the front of your scarf, right by your ear.  His breath tickles your jaw and neck. 

“God I’m so glad you’re back.” he murmurs into your skin.   

You can hear the pain in his voice.  The whole lot of you were traumatized from the entire ordeal.  Others carried this weight near-seamlessly; Hyunjin being at the top of that list if it were to be listed from best to worst at displaying a false mask of composure and balance. 

It had been a little over a week since you and Jisung made it back from purgatory.  Other than the gaps in knowledge that Hyunjin had about modern living, he appeared to be coping alright.  He remained to himself, or in Felix’s study. 

The next best person at hiding their trauma was, you guessed it, Felix.   

He isolated himself, so he only truly had to keep his cool for brief moments in the company of others.  You two had a few private conversations over the last few days.  Sometimes, you’d notice his eyes glass over as he would disassociate.  When asked about it, he would firmly insist he was alright and just dealing with the emotional aftermath of the incident, in such a self-aware way, that it would easily ward off any further intrusive questions. 

Chan was where the scale began to tilt.  Not only was he coping with the situation in his own, unique manner---he was also coping with the fact that he was going to be a father, in the most impossible of ways, and he was feeling all sorts of emotions he hadn’t felt in an extremely long time; and quite a few he had never felt at all prior to now. 

It was Chan who pioneered the decision for them to move out of the estate they had been on for hundreds and hundreds of years.  Through an old mutual supernatural friend of he and Jisung, they had secured a home on several acres about 4 hours away. Chan agreed to it right away, without even viewing it.  He simply wanted to uproot the household and mask their whereabouts as swiftly as he could. 

As far as he was concerned, you all could collectively figure out a forever home after the child arrived.  The safety of all was his top priority.   

He kept his ability to bring the spirits of others up, but he barely honored his daytime deaths, instead opting to stay up and vigilant.  The events were trying on his psyche, and sometimes he would break, at night.  You’d hear him crying, softly; sometimes you would feel what felt like a kick in your stomach (though according to mortal fetal development cycles, you were far too early to be experiencing such phenomena). It would wake you from your slumber and you’d sluggishly crawl across the bed to where he sat on the edge.  You would wrap your arms around him, and hug him tightly, kissing the back of his head as he cried.  Oftentimes you would cry too, but you would bite back your sobs, your nose pressed against his silken hair as you’d grip him tighter still. 

Not only was Jisung’s ability to conjure severely affected by crossing the lines between the dead and the living an added time—he was experiencing a strange bout of dizzy and fainting spells that Felix was still trying to get to the bottom of.  Until he was back to his full health, Chan didn’t feel comfortable allowing him to be alone at his home.  Without the level of conjure he held prior, Felix also noted that the protection around the perimeter of his home might have new vulnerabilities. 

Jisung refused to leave the guest room unless it was necessary.  He felt extremely vulnerable the way he currently was and busied himself sick trying to find a solution alongside Felix. 

You hadn’t escaped psychologically Scot free yourself.  You suffered from nightmares of an unknown origin that you were trying to keep under wraps from the others.  When Chan would ask why some days you would wake up in fear, nearly springing from the sheets, you simply blamed it on PTSD; which was half true. 

The other half of the truth was that in the nightmares, you couldn’t see much, it was as if you had been blindfolded.  You always heard the same two muffled voices, but it never became clear enough to decipher.  What was ingrained deep within you from the visions was the fear and hopelessness that you felt.  It was as if everyone had abandoned you, all at once.  The darkness was overwhelming and began to make you feel so trapped you’d grow sick to your stomach, oftentimes, the nausea carrying over into your waking life. 

Today was no exception.  At the break of Dawn, you feel yourself growing groggy.  You had been more tired than usual, but of course, this was how things went for pregnant women, right? It didn’t feel misaligned, the symptoms you carried.  You fall asleep, feeling the peace of your body being put to rest.  Yet what feels like only mere moments later, you blink your eyes open and see darkness. 

You feel the rough fabric that’s tied tightly over your eyes.  Your heart rate quickens, and you strain to hear the exchange of voices happening right in front of you. 

‘...onl...ay’ 

‘br...a...store....power’ 

You capture a full word for the first time since your nightmares began. 

Power 

--- 

You end up getting a bit more rest than you had expected, which was a welcome recharge to your system.  You don’t mention the context of your nightmares, or the full word you managed to catch last night.  It would only make Chan more protective, Felix more curious, Hyunjin more stressed, and Jisung more terrified.  You could tell everyone, hell even yourself included, were waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Chan had told you in the entirety of his life, he’s never felt safe, things have never been normal. Ever. 

So, for now, you keep your mouth shut and enjoy the cool, night breeze on your face as you have your passenger side window rolled down.  You smell the Northeastern Atlantic Ocean shores, only yards away, the moonlight reflecting off the moving water.  As Chan drives further, the tree line gives you brief glimpses of the ocean, but it’s clear, you’re heading far in the opposite direction of it.  The forestry thickens and you soon smell damp moss and rotting wood more than the coastal sealine. 

Hyunjin is sitting in the backseat, also staring out the window, his facial expression blank.  He couldn’t shake off the feeling of being trapped in a world he didn’t understand. 

“So, this is it? This is where we’re going to live?” Hyunjin asks, with a hint of sarcasm. 

Felix, who’s sitting alongside Hyunjin in the roomy SUV, speaks up.  “It’s a roof over our heads.  It’s a start.” He replies coolly. 

“We’ll make it work, Hyunjin.” Chan says, glancing in the rearview mirror at his fire-haired brother.  “We always do.” 

“We’re a family.  We’ll figure it out, together.” You add softly. 

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, but the tension in his shoulders relaxes slightly.  You all drive in silence for a while, each lost in your own thoughts. 

Finally, Chan breaks the silence as the car slows down on the dirt road.  “We’ve been through a lot, but we’re all here now.  We’re going to make a new life for ourselves.  We don’t really have a choice but to move forward now. “ 

“Anyway then, here we are.” Chan twists the keys in the ignition and the low rumbling of the engine stops.  It’s so silent, you could hear a pin drop at least a mile away.  You lean forward, glimpsing the large, Victorian style dwellings.  Your eyes are immediately drawn to the thick vines that seem to be growing out of every crevice.  The moonlight casts an eerie glow on the overgrown plants, making the house seem almost...alive. 

You can feel the discomfort in the car as Chan, who was driving, and Jisung, who’s in the backseat, exchange a look of concern.  You can see the dust on the windows and the cobwebs in the corners of the house. 

As you step out the car with everyone else, you can’t shake off the feeling of unease.  The house seems ancient, and it’s clear that it hasn’t been lived in for a long time; but Chan and Jisung’s friend had assured them that it’s a safe location, and you trust them.   

You try to put your feelings aside and focus on the task at hand, but as you walk up the creaky front steps, you can’t help but wonder what kind of secrets this old house holds. Chan wriggles the knob, expecting it to open, but to no avail. 

“Hold on.” Jisung emerges, wrapping his slender fingers around the rusted knob.   Without turning, you can hear the locks inside of the door turn slowly, as if there was someone on the other side.  The way it opens, dust falling from the frame, you begin to second guess this decision to yourself once more. 

“There’s no way you sprung me to live like this...” Hyunjin says, walking inside and glancing at the peeling paint on the walls.  The rooms are large and empty, with no furniture anywhere.  The floors are wooden, and a dark, cocoa color. 

“Brother, we’ve lived in worse.” Chan says, his hands in his pockets as he walks forward, looking up and surveying the large chandelier that hovers in the foyer.  He looks down at the rug underneath his feet and taps the spot with his toe. 

“This is a recipe for a D-List horror movie accident just waiting to happen.” He notes as you join him underneath, slipping your arms around his waist, squeezing the fabric of his fleece jacket between your fingers as you also look up at the chandelier. 

“It's almost a full moon.” You say with a grin, kissing him and moving on to explore the rest of the house yourself. 

“Yeah?” Chan follows behind you, now that you’ve piqued his interest. 

“Yeah, you get really paranoid about things the closer it gets, I’ve noticed....” Your voice trails off as you run your hand over an old hallway display cabinet.  Dust clings effortlessly to your fingers, and you brush them against one another to scatter it away.  

“You don’t think there’s any way Edith could like...come back, for me...or the baby, or anything, right?” You blurt. 

Chan’s brow furrows.  “No. We sealed her soul in purgatory, little witch why—does this have to do with your nightmares?” Chan’s gears begin to shift as he puts two and two together. 

“No! I--” You look around before lowering your voice, “No, I’m just still afraid.  Can you blame me? I barely got out alive, and now I have to keep myself and this...thing alive--” 

“This thing? That’s my child that’s...our child.” Chan’s voice softens.  He realizes his fuse is shorter around the Full Moon and tries to maintain control. He normally doesn’t let it slip, but he was feeling out of sorts the last few days.  “You let me worry about keeping you, and our child, alive.” 

You’re a little taken aback at his tone, but you blame it on the oncoming Full Moon.  The last one didn’t go as well as it should have, and after everything, his body and emotions were tense.  He seems to notice the shift in your demeanor and runs his fingers through his dark hair, now styled back slick and straight.  He sighs as he places both hands firmly on your upper arms. 

“All of this, its gonna take some getting used to for me, for you, for everyone here.  She could be a vampire, a witch, a wolf, or all three.  My father was a hybrid, and I came out as a wolf.  There’s no rhyme or reason to this it's just...a wildcard, really.  It’s a wildcard.  I feel like I’ve been given a second chance to get it right this time.” 

You can feel the neediness in his voice, you see his eyes, begging, pleading for you to understand him, to validate his reasoning, experience and existence.   

Your big, bad wolf. 

“Did you say...she?” You tease. 

He’s caught off guard as you laugh at his expression. 

“Did I? I said she? Did I really?” He asks in disbelief.  “I didn’t even notice.” 

“Do you want a little girl? Do you think you can handle that?” You say with a cheeky grin. 

“No, absolutely not! That’s why I can’t believe I said it!” He touches his lips and looks at his fingers, as if the answer would be splayed on the tips. 

“Hey lovebirds, it’d be nice to have some hybrid strength for some of these boxes, yeah?” Jisung slaps the doorframe that he’s looking out from behind as he hoists his box higher against his body to get a better grip.  He takes it into the living room and sets it among the other boxes that Felix and Hyunjin had managed to use their unnatural speed to build up. 

They didn’t bring everything from the old house, only enough to be able to live comfortably for a little while.  The family estate was in their name and would always stand where it was built; but that area couldn’t be considered secure.  People over the centuries had been guests, although there had been no disturbances, folks in certain circles close enough knew where they laid themselves to rest. 

You were barely pregnant, and certainly felt strong enough to help.  Your speed wasn’t up to par like theirs, nor was your coordination, but you had little boosts every now and again.  You glance into the trailer attached to Chan’s truck.  Figuring out that you could carry a box or two, you grasp one and make your way back up the creaky stairs and into your new home. 

Chan’s about to approach you, to chastise you for doing too much, when Felix stops his brother, arm across his chest. 

“Let her do something for herself, you can’t control everything, brother.” The white-haired vampire murmurs in an intimate tone.  “You’ll drive yourself mad trying and drive her away in the process.” 

Chan takes a few steps back, watching as you set the box down in the middle of the room and stand up, feeling more winded than you usually were.  You shake it off and head back outside to join the others. 

“I can’t escape the notion that something isn’t right, brother.”  

Chan crosses his arms across his chest, the sleeves of his deep navy fleece jacket rolled up to his elbows as he stands beside Felix, near the staircase in the foyer.  Hyunjin zips back and forth so fast, only the sound of his rustling clothing and dropping boxes can be heard.  Jisung is struggling to carry heavier boxes, to get you to not worry about them.  You find yourself stumbling along Jisung, trying to capture the other end of the boxes that were too heavy for him alone to conquer. 

Felix watches everyone too, his arm resting against the wooden, curled start of the banister. 

He wants desperately to disagree; but the brothers knew how their undead lives worked. Now they had a pregnant witch descendant of one of the most powerful clans in the world in their midst. 

Felix chews the inside of his lower lip as his brain begins spinning the webs it always spun when it came to strategizing. He answers his brother, barely above a whisper. 

“It’s not.”  

Chan glances over his shoulder at his younger, pureblooded vampire brother.  “Has something been ailing you?” 

“The bloodlust.” Felix never takes his eyes off you all milling about, despite Chan boring holes into the side of his skull.  “Normally I keep myself well fed, the blood of a witch, the blood of your little witch, it’s tempting but...” Felix’s gaze breaks as he glances down at the floor.  His index and thumb rub against one another anxiously. 

“The reason Hyunjin and I have stayed out of the way isn’t because of what happened.  Well maybe, possibly for him but the bloodlust, it just feels almost out of my--” 

“Shit!” 

You wince, ripping back your hand from the edge of the box where you had just accidentally sliced the side of your palm with the box cutter.  The box cutter clatters to the ground as you grip your wrist, sucking in air through your teeth.  You’re pinned suddenly to the ground and look up to see Hyunjin’s eyes, an emblazoned amber, his sclera an ugly shade of blood red as he breathes heavily.   

There’s no time to embody enough strength to let out a terrifying scream, as Hyunjin's body is violently propelled across the room and Chan is kneeling beside you, breaking the skin on his wrist and lifting your head enough to feed you his blood.  You drink, chest still heaving with adrenaline as you observe Felix, holding Hyunjin up by his fingers tightly enclosed around his throat as the youngest brother thrashes against the wall.  The wound on the side of your palm closes itself up as you close your eyes from the sights of it all and continue drinking. 

Jisung’s hand lay against Hyunjin’s forehead like a priest performing an exorcism.  With nothing but pure, ancient magick, Jisung sends a voltage-like stream of energy through Hyunjin that immobilizes and renders him unconscious; and afterwards, he crumples to the ground, powerless.  Felix flits away in the blink of an eye, Hyunjin over his shoulder.   

As Chan is overseeing everything and allowing you to heal, he suddenly feels a sharp stab from your mouth. 

“Hey, hold on a sec...” He coaxes you from the blood spilling from his wrist, and he looks closer at your teeth, covered in blood and saliva, as you breathe heavily from the consumption of power. The tips of your canines were thinner, with a sharper tip.  You had felt overwhelmingly in need of his blood for a while now, and you didn’t know what cravings you were dealing with until you had tasted it like this once more.  You were dizzy with how good it felt. It soothed a need inside of you. 

“Your teeth, little witch--” Chan says in disbelief and concern as he glances over to Jisung, still unconscious on the floor.  In a split-second decision, Chan crawls quickly over to Jisung, placing his head into his lap and re-opening his wrist wound to feed Jisung and hopefully bring him back.  You’re busy licking the blood from off your lips and fingers as you quietly watch them.  You feel feral, but not in a good way.  You feel impulsive, and your emotions are now rising to an uncomfortable place. 

Jisung stirs awake groggily, coughing and spitting the excess blood on the floor as he pushes himself up to sit and look around, regaining his breath once more. 

“Shit how long was I out for?” he asks Chan as he’s helped back up to his feet. 

“A minute, maybe two at most.” 

“What the hell was that?  That wasn’t normal bloodlust, veins were popping out of his skull, he was being consumed by something else entirely.” 

It's just like Jisung getting back to normal immediately after falling unconscious. 

“It could be because of the baby, or how long he’s been in purgatory Jisung, I don’t know.” Chan drops his hands to his side in confused exasperation as he kneels next to you, helping you to your feet.  Your carnal desires had weakened just a bit now that the aftershocks were settling in. You feel the fuzziness in your brain returning to clarity once more.   

Felix is coming back down the stairs, and the four of you gather in the living room.  He wipes blood from his fingers with his handkerchief as if it were a kitchen condiment. 

“Little Witch, I need you to be honest with me, yeah?” Felix asks, looking directly into your eyes.  “Have you experienced anything strange, or off since you’ve been back? Any foreboding feeling, visions, nightmares, hallucinations, cravings?” 

You instinctively want to start out by lying, but with Felix’s ability to sense the shifts in your circulatory system; and Chan’s capability to literally smell your fear, you answer honestly. 

“I’ve been having trouble controlling my powers and experiencing intense mood swings,” you admit, wringing your hands nervously. “I keep dreaming about being held hostage and hearing voices, last night they said ‘Power’. And to top it off, I’ve been having these cravings, like...I need to consume something that I know I shouldn’t.” 

Chan doesn’t add that he witnessed fang like projections from your canines earlier. He decides to leave the others in the dark about it. You’re grateful, unaware of what it could mean for you.

Felix and the others exchange a look of concern, knowing the implications of what you just revealed. They were all well-aware of the dangers that came with pregnancy for a witch, especially when the witch in question was carrying a child of an unknown species. 

“We need to keep a close eye on you, Little Witch,” Chan says firmly, his arm coming behind your waist from the side to pull you in. “We need to make sure that you and the baby are safe.” 

“I don’t feel safe in an unprotected house, no matter what Minho told us.” Jisung says as he walks around the perimeter of the living room, observing the cracks in the walls, little scratches here and there. 

Minho... 

That was the first time you’ve ever heard that name before. 

“He’s all the way in Russia, I don’t even know why you involved him in our mess.” Felix retorts. He’s now extremely cautious about what family friends they decide to include so closely into their lives. Anyone who joined them were at risk of death in any number of gruesome ways with the danger they attracted. 

“You know the Lee family has safeguard housing up and down the East Coast, who else could deliver us enchanted real estate in a week’s time? Besides,”  

Chan looks around, “Now nobody in America knows where we live.” 

----- 

The night before the Full Moon, the night of the Waxing Gibbous moon, progresses, and Jisung is busy using as much of his power reserve as possible to help with protection incantations and conjure to at the very least, make you all undetectable for a solid 3 weeks. With some rest, he could add catch-em's throughout the woods, to signal if anyone was encroaching upon them, and trap them until someone could investigate. 

Three weeks would allow the brothers the time to procure a witch of substantial power to drain for the purposes of Felix and Hyunjin helping Jisung to finish the task. You didn’t allow yourself to use unnecessary magick until you could figure out what was going on with your body.  

The energy of tomorrow’s Full Moon hangs heavily in the air, which was causing your powers to become increasingly volatile. 

It turns out that you weren’t the only one becoming volatile. 

The next night, you experienced not one nightmare. 

Nothing. 

In fact, you sleep quite well, the best you have had in ages. The large, four post bed in the room you and Chan chose is old, with its elaborate gold metal headframe but didn’t have a foul smell and had been covered with plastic. When you further examined the 6, close to 7-bedroom house, you discovered some rooms were furnished, and others left bare. 

The loud bangs and clattering were what startled you awoke, followed by muffled voices yelling argumentatively. This house isn't as modernized as the former. The thick, heavy curtains that blocked out sunlight did the same for the moon and stars, unless you physically drew them back. The old place had fancy electronic drapes that rose and fell at the precise moment of sunrise and sunset.  

You reach out and turn the bedside lamp on, rubbing your eyes as you stumble over to the curtains and draw them. The moon hangs high in the sky, big and full. You ran to the top of the stairs, clenching your robe closed, as you had little time to get yourself together. 

Underneath the central chandelier in the foyer was the large wolf with fur blacker than souls that stir in the dead of night. Scraps of fabric were strewn on the floor, along with quite a fair amount of blood spattered along the walls and carpet. The wolf crouches down, readying for a predatory launch. 

“Chan!” You shriek impulsively, covering your mouth when his yellow eyes snap at you, standing atop the staircase. He growls, a snarl from deep inside of his chest, and then he blows air from his nose, almost like a sneeze, backing up two paces with a whine before he’s off, out the broken front door at a speed far faster than an average wolf could manage, and into the night. 

You run down the stairs and out onto the porch, but to no avail, he’s already out of your sight. The sounds of coughing and boards falling and creaking are what alert you to Hyunjin as he climbs out of the hole in the front porch, shaking the crumbled dirt and dust from his crimson locks and brushing his plum-colored button up, tucked into his black slacks.  

“Well, that was a very rude way to say ‘no’.” he tilts his head to the right ever so slightly, and you wince from the crack that results from the realignment of his spine. “I guess I forgot how strong he was.” he murmurs to himself as he adjusts the cuffs of his sleeve around his wrist.  

“Hyunjin, what the fuck happened to you last night? You nearly killed me, and the baby!” Your anger explodes in that moment, but didn’t you have every reason to? If bringing Hyunjin back means you were in more danger than before then maybe you were the only one capable of doing something about it... 

You stop in your tracks from approaching him and physically shake your head to get rid of those awful thoughts. 

You didn’t mean that. 

Why did that even come up intrusively into your mind? 

“You’re feeling it too, aren’t you, pretty witch?” Hyunjin hasn’t flinched from his spot, simply placing his hand into his pocket. He looks amused. “I’ve never seen you so fired up like this before. I kind of like it on you--” 

You take in your breath and hold it to stop yourself from saying something impulsive. 

“Hyunjin, think about what Chan can do to you, and magnify it by 300, I will wear your fucking insides as mardi gras beads if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on—right—now.” 

“You don’t have to sweet talk me that like to get information out of me, besides, I don’t know what the fuck is going on, alright? Christophe seemed to have transformed against his will and now he’s God knows where in this area none of us know anything about.” Hyunjin says crossly with his unique sarcasm.  

“And I didn’t attack you on purpose, alright?” his demeanor shifts as he glances away, and you sense a little...worry? Sadness?  

“I keep having these fucking...flashbacks of being sealed away. Those first few hundred years...I fought every, single moment I breathed. I – I bled out so many times, and would black out, only to come back impossibly weaker—forced to fight again, and again--” 

“Hyunjin, I--”  

You wordlessly bring him into a hug and his body stiffens at first, he doesn’t reciprocate. 

“Pretty witch I can’t--” 

His hands come up to embrace you in return. 

“Pretty w-witch--” 

His hands are quivering on your back, and you feel wetness seeping into your shoulder that makes you pull back and see the saliva dripping down his jaw, his fangs full and bright, needle sharp, just like Felix’s as he fixes his stare blankly ahead at nothing, his body beginning to slowly rock. He looks like he’s fighting a possession. 

“Run.” 

You take off down the porch stairs and into the woods.  

You glance back as you run, the robe catching on the tree and ripping from your body. You manage not to stumble, but as you’re not paying attention, the remains of a hollow dead tree strike a gash in your shin that makes you cry out, hunched over, trying to keep some distance between you and whatever these wild creatures that you knew as close friends, family even, had become. This wasn’t them. You had to be hallucinating. You were in some nightmare.  You stand to your feet again and come face to face with Felix’s hungry eyes. 

“Are we playing a game, little witch?” he asks in a lively manner, with a disarming show of his teeth in an innocent grin. 

“I win.”  

Felix’s lips close, then turning into a smile that reaches his eyes, before he grips you up, his lips pressing against your neck, your pulse racing as you squirm against him, trying to manifest your strengths, your capabilities, your power. 

“You smell like pure moonlight.” He says after taking a big whiff of your skin before you feel needlepoint fangs puncture your artery while you feel an icy heat emerge from your fingertips and onto his thigh that you were gripping behind your body. Felix yelps in pain, mutters mumbled profanity, and you hear the breeze through the branches as he disappears into the night. 

You’re gripping your neck as its spurting blood all over the ground beneath you and you fall to your knees. You want to be strong; you want to cry out for help, but you blackout from the blood loss and pain from the venom, your body hitting the forest floor. 

------- 

“--manifesting differently in all of us--” 

“-- dead!” 

“--sealed her soul, you didn’t--” 

You groan as you groggily open your eyes to see yourself back in the four-post bed of your room. 

“She’s awake.” Chan exclaims at your bedside. You tilt your head to look at him and then sit up a little more.  

He’s all human. All there. He’s cleaned up and well-dressed, which was a stark contrast to the beast you laid eyes on before you passed out. 

You passed out. 

You touch the side of your neck, but feel the skin totally healed. You move your head back and forth and feel no pain before you spot Felix sitting at the foot of your bed. Jisung is seated at an old desk to the right. Hyunjin is leaning against the window, staring up at the moon that continued its cycle regardless of what happened down here. It's a waning gibbous; at least the energy of the full moon had passed. You feel calmer, and the energy between the boys is subdued. 

“Good, you’re awake.” Felix says as he lifts his head to look at you. 

“First of all, about last night—I lost control of myself in ways I haven’t felt in hundreds of years. I can only remember what even happened through Jisung bringing my memories back. The last thing I remembered was Jisung and I in the woods, figuring out the lay of the land, and then, I smelled blood...I didn’t just, smell blood, I heard voices in my head. Collective voices like a swarm of bees, all telling me to follow it. The entire time I was fighting impulse and I couldn’t stop myself. I remember feeling a stabbing pain in my leg, and I tasted your blood on my lips and ran as far as I could with what little control I had.” 

You listen to him, remembering what you could of the chilling events that occurred last night. The way he smiled at you, so friendly, so unassumingly, he could’ve taken candy from a baby with no consequence. This was only moments before he ripped a hole in your carotid artery. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. 

“At least I gave her a warning.” Hyunjin shrugs as he continues to watch the trees blow in the wind. 

“You call telling her to run headfirst into her death a warning?!” Chan snaps as he stands up, the chair he’s in scraping back against the floor with the haste of his aggressive movement. 

You remember the conversation you had with Hyunjin last night before he told you to run, and you tug at Chan’s hand, shaking your head, signaling for him to stand down. He sighs as he reaches between his legs to pull the chair back and sits back down. 

“How are you feeling? Is anything different?” Chan asks. 

He wants to know about the baby. 

“I’ve never been pregnant before but, I feel okay—a little tired but, nothing too crazy.” You grunt as you push yourself all the way up. “I guess this is what you meant by us never being safe, huh?” 

Chan exchanges a glance with Felix, who stands to his feet. 

“I don’t think there was a way to prevent this from happening, I don’t even know how it all works yet....” 

You cling to each word as Felix speaks. 

“I have a theory that Edith had a counterspell on her earthly remains. If they were ever to be destroyed, a curse is set loose to reign hellfire on those responsible, bringing out the worst in all of us. I don’t feel it at all today, neither do any of the rest of us. It must somehow work with the Full Moon.” 

“Meaning its wolf-based?” 

“There are other important things that happen during the Full Moon that don’t involve us.”  

“I knew it! I knew she wasn’t gone!” You shove the blankets off of you as you stand up in anger, interrupting their discussion.  You look at Chan. “You told me she was gone, you told me there was no way she could come back--” 

“She is gone, and she won’t come back.” Hyunjin’s voice cuts between the room’s tension. 

“If we can break the curse.” 

End. 

[somethinabouthypmic]

it's been awhile since i used this acc but admin is back into hypmic again so here we go! Realistic dating expectations for hypmic characters:

yipppeee here we go.

buster bros!!

hypmic characters, realistic expectations for dating:

ichiro: if you want to be with ichiro, then you should wait until his brothers are old enough to take care of themselves, even then, it might just be the same way forever, and good luck trying to date ichiro with jiro and saburo in the way. he takes family seriously as well, zero to no chance of it actually happening.

jiro: he's said before that he doesn't care for dating or girls, he just gets confused and wonders why it matters, so i don't think any girl would have a real chance with him, but if you're like one of the guys, then maybe.

saburo: saburo is a narcissistic asshole, so if you can stick with him for longer than a couple of weeks, then maybe it might work. Natural love is what he said that he wants, so take it slow, but you're most likely not going to have a chance with our little hacker boy

MAD TRIGGER CREW

samatoki: uh,,, good luck. But hey, he promised to never raise his hand to a woman so that's good. The relationship with him would probably dangerous, as yakuza work often is, definitely don't recommend it.

Jyuto: don't actually know too much about this one, but he's def into some kinky shit. His overtime is stupid and he works a lot, he probably also has a lot of enemies so be careful.

rio: uh.. wanna live in the woods and eat his survival cooking? are you sure?

Fling Posse

ramuda: ramuda belongs to everyone, having him to yourself is quite difficult, if you can be an onee-san/onii-san that sticks out to him enough, you might be able to be one of his models or a closer friend, but that's about it. watch out for his girlfriends.

gentaro: ehhh,,, good luck, I don't see why he wouldn't try dating, I don't really have anything else to say except watch out for the teasing.

dice: homeless man definitely will ask you for money if you're dating him. and he will gamble it all away. Be prepared to have a leech in your home.

Matenro

jakurai: he would definitely be a very nice partner, but he is also famous, so watch out for the grandpa's fangirls. And, watch out for drunkurai.

hifumi: ....he's terrified of women, so if you're a man there's a better chance, but, all of his fangirls will not like you.

doppo: not seeing him often during his job would be difficult, and all he wants to do on his breaks is sleep.. so... if you want to spend time with him, the best time to do it is just napping together, cuddling, and spending quality time when you can.

Bad ass temple

kuko: can monks even date? anyways, if he enters a romantic relationship with a person, the buddhist teachings state that nonattachment is important in romantic relationships, and to disregard attachments that cause pain, so kuko will love you unconditionally, and you have to do the same with him to make it work properly. anyways he's a little bit of an ass and a gremlin but once you're past that he's great dude.

jyushi: Oh the romance, he really wants it badly, but he will probably be a nervous little baby around you since he is a little crybaby. But all you have to do is love him for him and he will love you as well. Cuddle time is necessary.

Hitoya: I don't actually know enough about him, but, he is very dad-like. You're in good hands legally as well. Holding onto him on the back of his motorcycle? That's hot bro.

DOITSUITARE HOMPO

sasara: did someone say humor is important in relationships? anyways, he is definitely going to annoy you to death but he is really a sweet guy.

rosho: oh baby, oh sweetheart. Such a kind sensei. He's very smart, so i think dating him would be nice.

rei: uh, i'm not sure about this one, but I think he'd be a good sugar daddy. But be careful, he might abandon you like he did with his sons. lmao.

[rphelperblog]

Aurora Cycle Book Series Rp Meme

feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes

“Who am I to deny gravity? When you shine brighter than any constellation in the sky?”

“Do moons choose the planets they orbit? Do planets choose their stars?”

“I want to be knocked out again.”

“Who wants to be normal when you can be interesting instead?”

“Just because you’re not saying it doesn’t mean you’re not thinking it.”

“The mere sight of her is water in an endless desert.”

“I think I’d like to be unconscious again, please.”

“There is no love in violence”

“The sound of her name is like music.”

“With you at my side, I am unbreakable.”

“His loss is like my loss. It’s a story about losing people who aren’t yet gone.”

“Belive me, handsome, one of me is way more than you can handle.”

“You work your whole life for a Thing, it’s only natural the Thing be important to you”

“You know, you’re lucky I’m such a soulless shrew. Otherwise you might be at risk of quite possibly maybe hurting my feelings.”

“I seem to have left the part of me that cares in my other pants.”

“Is it weird that this girl’s don’t-mess-with-me tone makes me want to tell her she can mess with me any day she wants?”

“Love is a single sun in a heaven full of stars.”

“Show the way. Go the way. That’s what all good leaders do,”

“The future is grimier than I expected. Dirtier than it was meant to be.”

“I am not feeling nothing.”

“Love is a drop in the ocean of what I feel for her. Love is a single sun in a heaven full of stars.”

“We have failed, but I hope they will see how hard we tried.”

“all of this is unfolding as it was supposed to. The only way out is through.”

“Like she is the piece that has been missing all my life.”

“But in battle, everyone bleeds the same.”

“I need to let go of my past, and focus on my present.

I need to abandon who I was, and embrace who I am.

I just need to burn it all away.”

“There is nothing as painful, or as simple, as doing what is right.’ ”

“Tomorrow might be worth a million yesterdays. But a tomorrow without him isn’t worth anything at all.”

“In an instant. Those who truly know us see the whole, never just a part.”

“You are the fire I long to burn inside.”

"Madam Badass really did a number on the boys, huh?”

“She is a dream, alive and warm in my arms.”

I burn with the feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her.”

“ She is smoke and starlight, she is blood and fire, she is a song in my veins as old as time and deep as the Void.”

“ as I feel her surge against me, the flutter-soft touch of her tongue against mine, she almost destroys me.”

“But … that’s not what humans do.We fight for ideas, sure, but we fight for people too.”

“I figure there’s no harm in making a little light for ourselves, here in the dark.”

“Life is for living. The ones you left behind will be all right, I promise. The ones you leave behind in the future will be all right too, even if you make it all the way to another planet.”

“He asks for nothing, this boy. No favor. No quarter. He lives every moment of his life is pain, but still, he lives it. And he stands, where others would have long ago fallen.”

“No matter what the storybooks say, monsters rarely look the part.”

“To be a leader, you have to set the example. To be a leader, you have to be the kind of person you’d want to follow you.”

“The blade grows dull when it sleeps in its scabbard. Sharp when pressed against the stone.”

“I am wondering what kind of heart beats beneath those ribs of yours.”

“It is difficult. To be the one who ensures.”

“When the pilot’s chair is empty.”

“Our lips meet and our fires collide and in that instant all and everything is utterly right.”

“Tomorrow might be worth a million yesterdays.”

“And her smile is the only heaven I’ve ever know.”

“Even the sound of her name makes my heart swell.”

“There’s nothing as painful, or as simple, as doing what’s right,”

[lucreziaq2001]

•TV show: "Criminal minds".

•Content warnings: A mother having forced her teenage daughter to give her unborn baby up for adoption, mentions of death, loss a teenage child and grief caused by it, mentions of the last week of life and the death of a woman's biological mother, mentions of a couple having been separated for a short time, the voice of the girl who died being heard for the first time in thirty-seven years (through a recording) and her friend's baby being taken away from her.

•Some of the lines are almost the same that are in a scene of the "Cold case" episode this story is inspired by. I did modify them a bit, though. I didn't just copy and paste them.

•Tags: @lex13cm, @golden1u5t, @rynwritesreid, @reidmeister, @justalesbianwithsomegayshit, @thatonewritersstuff, @marril96, @c-m-stuff, @criminal-addict.

Between their two hearts

Chapter 17: What she had discovered about Saint Bridget's

"The only document that has legal value even if it is signed by a minor is the paper to give your child up for adoption" Sandy explained, thus finishing the story of that difficult day.

Surprisingly, she had managed not to cry while talking about those moments, but inside, even after all the years that had passed, her heart was completely broken.

"You forced her to sign it, though" Scarlett pointed out, trying her hardest to hold back the anger what she had just heard had caused in her.

"I am her mother!" the older woman retorted "I only did it to protect her, believe me!".

"And what happened to the tape Jennifer wanted to give to her baby?" Jacqueline asked, deciding to move on to the thing she knew Melissa would have needed when she would have told her they had found out the truth about her biological mother's death.

"Sister Margaret gave it to me after my daughter's death" Sandy replied "I listened to it very often, and each time, the pain I felt just got stronger".

"Do you still have it here?" Scarlett questioned.

"Of course" the older woman confirmed "I have nothing else to hear her voice through. Now, though, give it to Melissa, please. And tell her that I'm very sorry for what I did to her and her mother".

The two young women promised Sandy that they would have done it, then the woman said goodbye to them and let them return home, thanking them for what they were doing for her youngest daughter, but also being aware that she would have never seen them again.

The following morning, then, Jacqueline and Scarlett also got together with Spencer and Aaron at Scarlett's house to listen to the recording together.

"So, this is the recording Jennifer made for her daughter" Jacqueline reminded everyone.

"It must be hard to give your child up" Aaron sighed.

It had already been hard enough for him to accept to only see his children at weekends for the short time he and Haley had been separated.

He couldn't even imagine how he would have felt if Jack and Scarlett had been taken from him forever.

"Yes, especially if you don't want to do it" his daughter replied holding her little girl tighter in her arms "I can't even imagine being forced to give my baby girl to someone else".

"Jennifer recorded all this during the last week of her life" Spencer then said, bringing the others back to the main reason why they were there "The night Emily's baby was taken from her, Jennifer discovered what was happening at Saint Bridget's".

When he finished speaking, the man pressed the button to start the recording and a few seconds later, Jennifer's voice was heard for the first time in over thirty-five years.

"My little Sunshine, Emily's son was born ten days ago. He is such a beautiful child, but today they took him away from her" the girl said in the recording, then she began to talk to her daughter about what had happened and what she had discovered that terrible mid-July evening at Saint Bridget's.

[vampsquerade]

Can I request a story? A Oryx x male reader when Oryx is coming to terms with the fact that he likes other man and confessing to the reader? (Maybe angst with a shit ton of fluff)

yeah of course!! ty for requesting sm anon :D i rlly appreciate it and you for being specific, i promise it’ll be a hopeful transition between angst to fluff

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oryx x Male!Reader: Together and Closer

Trigger Warnings: Self-discovery (sexuality), comfort

Saif had come to enjoy working alongside you since you became a part of Rainbow a year ago, and he admired you quite a bit. You’d come from a harsh background, like many of your fellow operators did, and Saif found it admirable that you managed to get through what you did and turned yourself around. But what he didn’t realize was that it would also come with having romantic feelings for you.

At first, he was confused as to why his heart would practically beat out of your chest whenever you said hello to him, or when you’d train alongside him in scenarios to improve everyone’s strategies. Every time you pat his back to celebrate training gone well, he has to turn away to hide his blush. You two discussed your shared love for poetry, even writing your own for each other whenever you had the chance. Saif didn’t even know why he felt these feelings, he had never even felt them with a woman or a man that he could have possibly been interested in before. But you? You were different from anybody he should have had feelings for, and he liked different. You had similar upcomings, those of levels of brutality inflicted upon the two of you, but turning them into wills of peace and stoicism.

However, Saif believed he didn’t need the distraction. He had much bigger things to focus on than some man he’d only known for a year. He had a whole other army to train with Jalal, and had to focus on his work with Rainbow as well. Saif also didn’t want to deal with the pain of a possible rejection or the conclusion of his feelings for you. So, he decided to begin to distance himself from you to get his feelings in order. He didn’t care how difficult it was or how much it would hurt him, Saif needed to get himself in check.

You would prove to be his most difficult challenge.

Upon entering the weight room, he caught you in there alone. It was early in the morning, and you only ever came in this early if your memories of the past tormented you enough to wake you up. He wanted to strike up a conversation, but settled with a gentle wave instead. You wave back and beckon for him to come over to you, but Saif just shook his head. “Just dropping in to say hey and work out?” you ask, stopping your set. “Yes, I just came to say hello to you as you start the day. Don’t exert yourself.” Saif said, walking over to the stretching area. You nod and give him a warm smile before continuing your set.

Saif blushed, but since he was much further away from you, he didn’t have to hide it. He patted his face and began his stretches, getting his muscles ready for his usual workouts. As he stretched, he watched you generously wiping down each piece of equipment you used, and felt himself falling further for you. “A gentle, kind force. Forged from the fires of hell, flames that match my own.” Saif recited softly, sighing. He wiped down the mat he used for his stretches before going and getting to his sets.

He caught you staring at him for just a moment, before you turned away and went to the stretching area. “How long have you been here?” Saif asked, looking at you as he did his bicep curls. “Uh…I won’t lie, but I’ve been here for three hours. I just didn’t work out until two hours ago though.” you say, spreading your mat out to stretch. “So you’ve been here since three in the morning.” Saif asked. “Yep. Nightmares were terrible, so now my insomnia is keeping me up.” you said, sighing softly as you stretched. “Just keep yourself busy as you do.” Saif said, looking away from you. You nod and continue your stretches until you finish, watching Saif as you did so.

You then wipe down your mat and walk towards him, “Want to go out drinking with me and a few other operators later tonight? We planned this yesterday and I wanted to ask you then, but I couldn’t find you.” you say, smiling softly. “Ah, no but thank you for the offer Y/N. I’ll have much to do today.” Saif said. You give him a nod, “No worries, keep up your work.” you say, then walk out of the weights room. Once you were gone, Saif sucked his teeth out of frustration, “He’s going to be hard to detach from.” he said to himself.

Months would then come to pass after this, and you and Saif had grown much more distant with each other. It hurt you greatly, as you didn’t know if you did something to make him push himself away. Not only was it hurting you, it was hurting Saif. The feelings had manifested in him long enough to wrap around his heart tightly like thorny vines, where every other beat would cause the thorns to dig in deeper.

You had tried before to get him to speak with you, via slipping little poems in envelopes under his door, but it seemed to never get you a response. The two of you, respectively, went to Harry for advice without knowing. Harry told you to keep yourself open and available just in case he wanted to talk, with Harry telling Saif to find the best time to tell you how he felt. With both of this in your minds, the two of you would spend your days finding the right words before eventually stumbling into each other. “Oh, Y/N…I was actually looking for you. Are you…free to talk?” Saif asked. “I was doing the same if I’m going to be honest...” you mumble, keeping your eyes on him. “Let’s go to my room to have a quick chat then, yes?” he suggested.

Nodding, the two of you then make your way to his room in a tense silence. Once inside, Saif shut the door behind you and had you sit on his bed. As you looked into his little temporary room in the barracks, you saw all the poems you had written him on his nightstand. It gave your heart a slight twinge of pain, seeing that he had read them but never responded. “Thank you for the poems, by the way. I’m sorry I never responded to them, or ever gave you an explanation for my distance.” Saif said, sitting right next to you. You simply shrug, looking down at your hands.

Saif gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you close to his chest, “But now you deserve that explanation. I spoke to Harry about this…and now I believe I’ve found the right time to let you know.” he said. You glance up at him, and see the worry in his face. In an attempt to comfort him, you carefully put your hand onto his lap and gently pat it. Saif glanced down at you and sighed, “The reason for my sudden distance was because I needed to sort my feelings for you out. I just…I had never been in love before, especially over a man. You caught my eye once we finally became closer, and I did nothing but push you back away and hurt the both of us.” he confessed.

Your eyes went wide, “You…you actually have feelings for me?” you ask, stunned. “I do, yes. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I wanted you. It’s strange for a man like me to fall in love, as my stoicism tends to push people away. But not you, and it instead brought you closer to me. If you do not share these feelings, I can understand.” Saif said. You frowned, pushing off him a bit, “I do share those same feelings, Saif. I wish you could have just…told me. I can understand your confusion, however, when it comes to realizing you’re in love with another man. I was like that when I was much younger, but embracing it made me happier in this life. And it could do the same for you, I hope.” you reassure, patting his lap once again.

Feeling a bit calmer now, Saif gave you a soft smile, “I needed to hear that, thank you…would you like to be together, then..?” he asked shyly. You had never seen the stoic and imposing Jordanian man so timid before, but it was a rather endearing thing to see. “I’d be more than happy to. And, let’s use this as a way to brush aside the distance. I forgive you wholeheartedly.” you said, smiling warmly. “Yes, brush that aside and work to make each other happy.” Saif said, gripping your shoulder gently. The silence that surrounded the two of you wasn’t tense or awkward anymore, a calmer and more peaceful silence was what the two of you were left with.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 56″

Masterlist HERE. NSFW. Some smut.

"Whispering in his ear My magic potion for love Telling him I'm sincere And that there's nothing too good for us

But I want to be free, free, free And I just got to be me, yeah, me, me

Teasing hands on his mind Give our night such mystery Happiness all the time Oh and how that night pleases me"

Denise Williams – "Free"

Disa held the abstract Erik wrote for her to study before his return. Joba rested between them on her couch as she read over his plans for the transition team and her place on it. Their daughter had been teary-eyed for half an hour after he explained his plans to leave for Mount Bashenga. Joba switched gears when he promised to see her twice a week on vid chat, even though he couldn't speak to her. She touched her father's forehead and sensed that his trip was a good thing and not something done because the grown-ups were upset again.

Erik sipped wine with Disa, and she noticed his jittery body. He wanted to go to the temple, but he was nervous about leaving everyone behind. She reached over Joba's sleeping form and stroked Erik's locs.

"Hey, this isn't like you're leaving to fight anyone. You're doing this for yourself," she said.

He leaned forward and cradled his face.

"I know," he said.

His voice didn't sound like he believed it.

"You're not carrying the weight of anything on you now. There's nothing to prepare for or take. Wakanda is yours. This sabbatical is just for you. You said so yourself that the past is just a faded pain that you've finally released. Don't worry about anything but yourself for once."

"Being selfish cost me a lot," he said, gazing into her eyes.

Disa sipped her drink and looked away from him.

"This is the good kind of selfish. Self-care. Spiritual healing," she said.

"Marisol will come join me in my last week. The priests say that this sabbatical will align all of my roots."

"Marisol is good for you. She knows your connection to Ogum and can balance you out. Have you spoken to Yani about her part in this?" Disa said, holding out the abstract.

Erik sat back.

"She's doing her thing. Working. Seeing someone."

"Pictures on social media don't always mean the truth."

"Remy's been itching for her. First time I met him he had his nose wide open."

"He was a nice guy when he worked for us."

"They're always nice guys when they want something."

Disa put the abstract on her coffee table and lifted Joba.

"I'll put her to bed," Erik said.

He lifted his daughter and carried her to her bedroom on the other side of the suite. Disa glanced around. Her home was too large for two people. She was happy that Marisol lived with them to share all the space they had. No matter how much shuffling around of furniture Disa did, it was difficult to make her home cozy the way it had been when she had a half suite.

"The little rocket has landed safely under the covers," Erik said after returning.

He sat down next to her again and finished his wine. She checked her kimoyo. It was late.

"I have to be up early in the office. Phase Two plans are back on track, so I'll be having meetings with the general contractor and security team tomorrow," she said.

Disa stood and brushed back her hair.

"You need some rest too," she added.

"Sit down."

Erik's voice was gentle, but commanding just the same. She dropped back to her spot, and he turned his body toward her.

"The mourning period, the repast… these past few days adjusting to having my parents back on the same soil as me… it gave me plenty of time to look at myself and all the things I've pushed up against. By the time I was eleven, my entire life has been only one trajectory. Revenge. I remember sitting in the back of a police car after I found my father's body, waiting for Grandpop to get me. Rage took over everything. Getting revenge was the only thing on my mind. Justice was in there too, but the core of my growing up has always been rooted in my own needs to avenge my Mom and Baba."

"This is a conversation we can have when you get back. Your mind needs to stay clear—"

"My mind is clearer than it's ever been. Not only is it clear, but it's busted wide open. You know I have loved you before I even knew you, Disa. Even when you pushed me aside like I was a joke, I sweated you like my Baba did my mother when he knew what he wanted out of life. I did you wrong by letting you take the brunt of my mess with Yani. You stepped aside and pretended you were okay with not having me, and I know that was a lie. I knew it when you said it, and I hear it in your voice when you talk to me. It's in your eyes right now. You ain't got to be the bigger person because you think that's what I need."

"I believe that our time came and went and that happens—"

"Not with us. We been through too much shit to pretend our past relationship was like any other. I can't imagine you being with anyone else but me, and I know in my spirit that you feel the same way, too. I wish you would be honest with everyone around you. You left me the first time to protect your soul, and it worked while I was gone. But I'm back, and you want to claim me again. Being mindful of Yani's feelings is not your responsibility. I know you sincerely like her, but deep down… I wish you would kick up a fuss for what you want."

Disa shook her head as Erik lifted her chin.

"You want what you want too, and I see it in you. When our family was all here together… I could feel you, Disa. You put on a brave front for everyone around you, acting like you're cool with how we are now. It's a lie," Erik said.

Disa burst into tears and covered her hand over her mouth so Joba wouldn't hear. Erik stared at his hands.

"I've been having a recurring dream for the last three nights in a row. I'm a little kid again back in Oakland. My Nana Jean is in her kitchen cooking. The first night I was by her side helping her fry shrimp in her big kettle pot. We don't talk much… I dipped shrimp in her homemade batter and she fried it up, humming and telling me she was proud of me. The next night I was there again, and she was making her famous chicken enchiladas. She rolls up the meat and cheese and shows me how to make the sauce that goes over it. Last night we were cooking together again, but this time, we were in your kitchen back in Cambridge. I wasn't a little kid anymore. Nana made some red rice and fried some okra with onions, and she knew where everything was that she needed in your kitchen. She moved around like she'd always been there, cooking with me. Telling me she was proud of me and missed me. All the time she's talking and I can hear your feet coming up the stairs, I can hear your suitcase dragging on the floor, and then… you're calling my name asking what we're having for dinner…"

Erik twisted his fingers together, and a few tears fell to the floor. One fell on his arm and rolled down to his wrist.

"I woke up and I could smell the last traces of Nana's food and your perfume… I heard your voice, Disa. You sounded so happy. I was happy being back there again. I woke up just as you reached the kitchen. You never made it inside before I woke up and I cried about that. Sat there in my big ass bed with my Nana's humming fading in my ear… crying and lying to myself, too."

He stood and paced the floor, his agitated arms swinging at his sides as he clenched his fists, wrestling with his emotions.

"I am a man who loves two women equally, yet differently. There are things in Yani that I need that only she can give me, just like there are things I need from you that only you can provide. I've been an excellent father, provider, and protector. I cheer on both of your dreams, and I am proud of every accomplishment you have both made in your careers. I love you both for who you are naturally. Yani left me because I refused to choose, and you let me go because you didn't want me to do something that would break my heart. You wanted to suffer so I wouldn't have to. That's not fair to you, Disa. You've been hiding and I let that shit slide because I was too chickenshit to stand on my own and stay standing on what I want the most. Two women. You bring out the best in me, Disa, and so does she. Many people don't believe you can love two different people and build a relationship that works. I do. My greatest grandmother did it, and she ran the nation, too."

Erik sat back down deeper on the couch.

"It would kill me not to have Yani, and it would kill me not to have you. I'm just going to own up to my truth that I want the world and two of the biggest baddies in it. I want it all, Disa. Yani's got some growing up to do that has nothing to do with me, and I have to let her be during this time so she can become the woman she needs to be, even if it means leaving me forever. She's an amazing mother, midwife, and soon-to-be obstetrician. Her mind and vision for women's health are unmatched. And you…"

Erik slid his hand across the couch and clasped Disa's hand.

"You Disa… the perfect mother for Joba. Your mind and vision for sustainable housing and living with climate changes and the politics of all that… who can match you with that bar for bar? They say that Samson's strength was in his hair, but my strength? These two pillars I fell in love with and never stopped loving, no matter where I was. That is a blessing to me and not a burden to overcome. Don't cry, Disa…"

He pulled her into the crook of his arm.

"I have done everything I can to get to this place in life. I love what I love and I can't change it. I've said it before, but now… after having my parents back…"

Disa kissed him to hush him up. He kissed her, then pulled her shoulder back to look at her.

"I will not be the same when I return. I'm not even the same man now. Understand that. The moment I sit back on that throne, the earth will split in two. You are a part of that, so I need you to stop making yourself small around here to keep the peace. It's not your style, and I don't like it."

Disa grinned so hard her gums showed and he kissed away her tears. She exhaled and gave herself permission to enjoy him pressed against her chest. He rocked her in his arms.

"When I come back, I want the three of us to sit down together and talk. Air all of our feelings out and see what we can be or not be for good this time."

"Yani won't be happy—"

"Stop doing that. You've been putting her feelings first out of habit. This is not just about her, it's about all of us. Our children too. Your feelings are valid and important, and I only want you thinking about what you would need from me to make anything work on your end."

"She'll leave you for good."

"She's already gone. All I can do is remain open to her. This is different for all of us… well, two of us," he snickered with his last few words.

Disa pinched his arm.

"You and my mother move the same way," he said.

"How is that?"

"Oh yeah, my Uncle Bakari 'fessed up to some things my mother was doing back in her day."

Disa put a hand to her mouth.

"My mother was ahead of her time," he joked.

His laughing eyes became serious.

"We all have to talk this out in order to give our children their best life by being honest with one another," he said. "I've been walking around afraid of losing both of you and it's time to face off, even if it means not having anyone. All three of us have the right to have a vision of how we see love showing up for us. I know right now we're on separate paths tryna make things work by ourselves, but we've never talked with one another openly outside of scheduling my time with the kids. Putting it all on the table may make it less scary. I thought I could deny my feelings and just make myself into what Yani wanted because I love her so much. Approaching her like that would put a strain on her, which isn't fair if I'm not honest. It took my Nana coming to me in my sleep to remind me to be true to my heart. Yani may never understand or accept it, and other people may think I'm wrong for feeling the way I do. I'd rather live alone than live a lie."

He tapped her nose with a loving touch.

"No half-steppin' from you, Ma," he said.

"I'm afraid for you."

"Afraid of what?"

"That you won't get the happiness you want. Even though you have moved mountains, I've always known that you yearn to be happy. Free from the hand you were dealt."

Erik leaned forward and tapped his finger on the folder holding his abstract.

"No matter what happens, I have three beautiful children. I'm happy with that now and it can sustain me in the future if need be. I wanted to get that off my chest. At least I was able to do that with you before going away," he said, glancing at his kimoyo.

Erik typed a text that she was sure went to Yani. From what she heard from Marisol, Yani spent her time keeping busy and was hard to catch up with. If she was spending time with Remy, it gave her a nice outlet from all the stress of the mourning period and finishing her residency. Hell, Disa would've dabbled in a little Remy time herself if he were older and had pursued her.

Erik checked his kimoyo again.

"Trying to reach her?" Disa asked.

"Yeah. I wanted to talk to her about all of this first, but she hasn't responded to any of my texts. She had a long shift yesterday. I didn't want to say all of this on her voice mail, plus I have some other things to tell her before I go, but looks like that won't happen. Grandpop brought Sydette and Riki to me earlier so I could be with them."

"Don't feel bad. She hasn't hung with Twyla or Marisol, so that residency must be kicking her butt," Disa said.

"I'm gonna head out. I'll check in with you before I bounce," Erik said.

He stood up and pulled Disa to her feet. Her thoughts were a mix of anticipation and relief. She didn't have to wear the mask she had affixed to her face for months. Erik saw right through her ruse of pretending to be over him and ready to start a new chapter. She had protected her heart, but she longed to have him back. It would be a different type of union because she was a different woman with other priorities in her life. Raising Joba into a healthy functional adult was number one in her book. Her career came next. Erik gave her an opportunity to influence eco-housing on a global scale, and that was a generational responsibility. A relationship was a cherry on her sundae. Sharing him with Yani did not change the depth or quality of his love for her, nor her love for him. Her needs simply shifted the order of importance. Raising a child was the equivalent of raising a nation. Raising an heir was an added responsibility. Looking at him through that lens, Disa thought little would change from how they were working together to raise Joba, communicating about his transition team goals, and their usual friendly banter about regular everyday shit. What would change was the intimacy between them and how they would talk about that with Yani.

Disa expected Yani to flip out again, but at least this time, they would all have to talk it out and understand one another fully as adults seeking a resolution. Erik would not back down from several deep conversations. He wouldn't rush them into any decisions either, she was sure of that. Too much was on his plate already ascending the throne. She knew he would lay his heart out and accept each of their final decisions before moving on.

He freed Disa.

She folded her hands on the back of his neck and held him the way she always wanted to hold him again. Disa was a part of his life and always would be. No matter what configuration they became in the future, he wouldn't allow her to throw in the towel on them. His love was wider, deeper, and long-lasting enough for all of them. She believed he could love more than one equally. It wasn't about having more than one woman just to have extra pussy to play in. He found something in two people that nourished him. Disa had that experience before and knew it was real. All that mattered was that he wanted her to be authentic in her feelings for him. Stop hiding. Demand his time for her, too.

Free.

She licked the seam of his lips and kissed him the way she did when she first realized that she had fallen for him. Erik sat back and let her control what she wanted. He parted his lips just enough to let her tongue explore him again. She started crying, and her body shook with suppressed longing. He stroked her lower back and rested his forehead on hers.

"Don't be afraid to love me," he whispered.

His words shattered her fear, and she hugged on him for life before leading him back to her bedroom. He took hesitant steps into the large room with the round bed covered in a thick red satin blanket. Erik looked around the room as she pulled off her top and unfastened her loose slacks. His gaze was drunk with arousal, and he allowed her to unbutton the clasps on his green tunic. He slipped off his linen trousers, and she stared at his penis. She remembered every inch and pressed her face against it to smell his scent. She licked his balls, and his body stiffened. His dick twitched and plumped. He plucked at her nipples through her bra, then pulled down the thick straps. He groaned when he saw her breasts for the first time in years. His hands cascaded along the fullness until he palmed the soft flesh with eager squeezes. Erik pushed her back onto the bed, shoving her legs wide so he could stare at her pussy. Lifting onto her elbows, Disa watched him lick and kiss a wet trail up her folds until he sucked on her clit, bringing it to its full plumpness with his lips. He sniffed the sparse thatch of dark pubic hairs on her mound, then dragged his lips into a deep kiss with urgent sucking on engorged nerves. Keyed up for weeks from being around him constantly as he mourned his parents, her release into his mouth came quickly before she was ready.

"Dammit!" she huffed into the blanket.

Erik laughed so hard that it made her giggle against the cool satin cover.

"Finally. Some payback after all these years," he teased.

She popped him on his forehead and shimmied toward the curved headboard covered with plush pillows. He crawled next to her and forced his tongue inside her mouth, making her taste the premature orgasm she wet his lips with. His slow thrusts into her mouth had her ready to cum all over his lips again. Her pussy throbbed with aftershocks of the sudden thrill. She held his arm while twisting her neck to match his kisses until Joba walked in on them. Erik lunged for the edge of the blanket and threw it over their lower nudity. Disa lifted herself slightly.

"Hey, what's going on, Sunshine?" Disa asked.

"I'm thirsty," Joba said.

Their daughter stood at the end of the bed, watching them. She rubbed her eyes and peered at Erik.

"I can get you some juice. Go on to the kitchen. I'm right behind you," Erik said.

Joba slowly walked out of the bedroom and Erik buried his face in Disa's shoulder, hiding a laugh. He crept off the bed and threw his clothes back on. Disa sat up, and Erik's gaze took in her breasts.

"I'll hook her up and jet," he said.

"Alright," Disa said.

"If I can get some stuff done in time, I'll try to see Joba early in the morning before school."

He slipped away quietly, and she rested against her pillows. Listening to Erik chat with Joba as he tended to her, Disa closed her eyes. Her sight became blurry trying to hold on to the heat of his body as it etched itself back onto her skin. Pressing her face into the pillow, Disa buried her dishonesty with herself for good. She would stake her claim, no matter how things turned out when he returned from Mount Bashenga.

The next morning, Erik called like he said he would, and she was glad to speak to him. He looked ready for the world. She tapped her desk comm tab and told her receptionist to bring in the contractor and security team. Disa rolled up the literal puffy sleeves on her dress and sauntered over to the completed model of the Phase Two project she helmed. Two men and two women stepped inside her inner office and she turned on the digital blueprints above the model.

"Time to get to work," she told her building team.

Glancing out of the office window, she spotted the Royal Scorpion Fighter streaking over Birnin Zana.

"Allah hamdullah," she muttered under her breath.

The king was on his way.

Yani gazed at everyone in the throne room as Elder Efetobo stepped forward with T'Challa to hand her the official proclamation designating her as a Princess descended from Queen Mary Thomas. The heavy paper with the royal coat of arms and signatures of the royal court felt heavy in her hands. Sydette's name was on the proclamation, too. Her mouth fell open when she saw Twyla's name written in heavy script. Erik made her cousin Caribbean royalty with them.

"I don't understand," Yani said.

T'Challa grinned.

"N'Jadaka presented the court with a petition to change your status based on your lineage, which is in alignment with our ancient laws. No other country would recognize you as royalty with their standards and history, but we in Wakanda deem you as such from now on. Your connection to our royal house already affords you a title, but he wanted you to have something on your family's merit."

She glanced around the room again.

"Where is he?" Yani asked.

"He left for Mount Bashenga," T'Challa said.

She pressed her lips together, then lowered her head to him.

"Thank you," she said.

Yani didn't wait for them to explain anything further and rushed out of the throne room past Mpilo. She tapped her kimoyo, turning it off mute, and a barrage of color-coded pings popped up. There were over seven messages from Erik. Her need for peace and quiet after conducting her first surgical procedure had overshadowed her opportunity to hear from him directly that he had sought more for her.

She took the private elevator to the Talon Port and glimpsed the Scorpion Fighter flying above the palace. Erik's kimoyo was turned off.

"You always do this," she yelled up to the sky, waving her hand at his aircraft knowing she was only a speck on the earth from that distance.

She smiled and held the proclamation and his letter to her chest. No matter what was happening in his life, Erik always looked after her. Her kimoyo lit up, and she jumped at the chance to speak to Erik.

The image that floated above her wrist wasn't Erik's.

"Lady Galiber, I am so sorry to disturb your work today."

Riki's teacher stared at her with big owl eyes of concern.

"What's going on?"

"We are having a hard time with Prince Riki right now. We are doing our morning exercises and the Royal Scorpion Fighter just flew overhead, and we all saw it and the prince became upset. Could you please speak with him?"

"I will connect with his kimoyo now," Yani said.

She switched floating screens and Riki's wet, blotchy, red-brown face softened her heart.

"What's goin' on Dumplin?"

"I saw Baba fly away and I wahn him back!"

"But we told you he had to go up to the mountain and you said you were okay about it."

"Mi change my mind!"

"He'll be back soon. Did you wave at the Scorpion Fighter?"

Riki's lips trembled, and he nodded his head.

"I try to call Baba, but him won't answer," Riki whined.

"He can't use his kimoyo while he goes up there. He'll call you in three days. You said you were going to be a big boy for him."

"I am."

"It's okay to be sad about him being gone. He loves you and wants you to enjoy school and have fun while he's away. Can you do that for us?"

Riki nodded and wiped his eyes. His chest stopped heaving and his breath became even again.

"Look what Baba gave mi, love. He make Mama a princess!" Yani said, holding up the proclamation for Riki to admire to get his mind off of sad things.

"When you come home, I'll have Jabuli make you some fat cakes and we can write Baba a letter and color a picture that we can send him," she said.

"Okay."

"Feel better."

"I miss him already."

"I know. Seeing the Scorpion Fighter fly so far away made you upset. Go finish doing your exercises and I'll see you later, Dumplin. Love you."

"I love you back, Mama."

Yani gave him a big kiss over her kimoyo and kept her beads on. Sydette had been quiet going to school, and she wondered if her daughter or Joba were having a hard time, too. She wandered through the East Palace and appreciated the luxury and opulence that she had left behind. The villa was beautiful, but the heartbeat of the palace had a palpable excitement to it she missed. As she strolled past a few palace staff members, they bowed to her. Normally they gave a slight head nod to her as a Lady of the court. Word must've been spread around already that she was in a different league from now on. She made eye contact with the staff and dawdled along in her fancy clothes. Her long skirt had a short train to it that dragged along the floor with shells on the end of it that made a pleasant scraping sound.

Yani paused under the painting of Erik. Gazing up at his immense image, she studied how different he looked in the painting compared to the last time she saw him in person when she recited the legend of Queen Mary for everyone. No, not different. More like evolving into something bigger than the portrait. He carried the magnificence of the painting within him, and Yani began to see how his life was going to shift dramatically. T'Challa already appeared to defer to his cousin in preparation for the transfer of power.

Even Erik's eyes looked more alive that night. He regarded every member of his family as if he were cataloging every minutia of detail about them. His attentiveness toward her didn't hide from Yani his equally attentive interactions with Disa. There were times Erik approached Disa with a bit of conversation and she would speak with him and their laughter echoed with their American kin. Yani wanted to join in and see what was so humorous that had everyone around them cackling. Disa was always funny, and Yani missed the inside jokes they had about everyone in the palace, even their own kids. A few times Disa caught Yani staring at her when Erik was near her and she would give a friendly head nod and ask if Yani needed help with anything before moving away from him and finding someone else to talk to.

Yani sighed as she marveled at Erik's portrait.

He would never stop loving Disa.

The recognition of that rested in the pit of her stomach, and she didn't judge any of the emotions or feelings that stirred up there. She stood in the heart of it and let the sensations that came along wash over her. There was no anger toward Disa anymore. There was no hate. Not even jealousy anymore. Only a simmering sadness that made Yani step outside of herself for once.

Erik and Disa had a full life at another time. They would always remain close friends no matter how much that worried Yani.

But what was there to worry about?

Yani had left Erik on her own. He was free to see whomever he wanted. If he wanted to go back to Disa, he could. If he wanted another woman to start a fresh new life with, he would have no problem finding a beautiful, willing partner. A native Wakandan would probably be his best bet to appease the country.

Her stomach tightened.

She didn't have the intestinal fortitude to even consider some other woman coming into the mix. She'd rather have him go back to Disa. The one thing she shared with her was a phenomenal history, and Yani respected the hell out of her accomplishments. From day one, Disa embraced Yani as a fellow traveler in the crazy world of Erik Killmonger. She stood up for her when Ramonda showed her ass those first few traumatic months. Disa asked for equal treatment and care for all of them in Wakanda. Not once did she seek anything that she didn't want for Yani too.

A rush of air expelled with an intense huff from Yani's mouth. Disa had been her one and only staunch friend in Wakanda outside of Twyla. She shared her fears and her sadness at Erik's death, and she loved the hell out of Sydette and Riki. Yani walked away from Erik's painting feeling remorseful for how judgmental and mean she had been toward Disa right before she vacated the palace. She had listened to Disa's hurt over her loss of love so long ago, but Yani had never really sat with that pain compared to her own until recently.

She stopped in front of the royal portrait of the two of them with their children. They had looked so united back then. Ready to face the challenges ahead together as mothers, keeping a strong pact that their children came first in everything and would be raised together with love and laughter. God, they had laughed so much together. Always sitting up in their nightgowns late at night and telling raunchy stories about all the men in their lives while eating sweets and painting their nails, hoping the children didn't wake up and interrupt big girl time. Yani knew Disa hid some things back when it came to Erik. She'd recently learned from Marisol in a drunken slumber party at her villa that Disa lost a child. Had been stabbed because of Erik. Suffered an illness dealing with him being gone so much that it tore up her health and broke her soul open.

Yani stared at Disa's twinkling eyes in the painting. Behind that cultivated façade of having it all together, Erik's love had been traumatizing for her, too. Underneath Disa's beautiful gown, there was a scar left on her belly somewhere that she would carry for the rest of her life, just like the scar on Yani's head.

Disa had been the older sister Yani always wanted. Being the oldest girl in her family, Yani never had the love and support from her parents that allowed her to make mistakes without judgment. From the time she was seven and could hold babies without dropping them, they thrust Yani into being the oldest sibling caretaker, babysitter, cook, and house cleaner for her immediate family. Thrown out of her home young while pregnant and having to grow up fast under her Aunt Leona's roof, she never had a woman who was an older peer that could just listen to her without judgment. Twyla and Aunt Leona came close, but sometimes they let their familial conservative opinions override Yani's need for compassion as she struggled with becoming an exemplary mother and a young woman while missing out on a real childhood. All she knew how to be was a worker for others at such a young age. Disa spoke to her with kindness and wisdom beyond her years, which gave Yani confidence and encouragement, especially with school and furthering her education past medical school. Disa had complained of growing up with nothing but boys and wished she had a sister, or at least a bounty of female cousins. She took it upon herself to latch onto Yani with the affection of having that type of connection despite the messed-up predicament they were in, giving Yani space to grieve, be angry, and vacillate between the two emotions at any time because of her discomfort at processing the discovery of another woman in Erik's life soon after St. Thomas. No matter how Yani showed up to Disa with her wounded pride and broken heart, that woman stood with her through it all.

"You were my friend… are my friend," Yani said to the painting. "Even when mi hated you, you never say one unkind thing 'bout mi."

Lashing out at Disa had felt cathartic for a few days after their confrontation at the palace pool. Yani took pleasure in putting her foot down. However, back at the villa, Disa's angry, truthful accusation filtered through to Yani's scorn. Later, as the mourning period stretched into a crash-course history lesson of where Erik Stevens truly came from, the brunt of her misplaced anger toward Disa came into stark relief.

Erik Stevens made choices. Then Killmonger made choices. And then the slumbering Prince N'Jadaka woke up and made a choice that put them all in disarray. The man honestly didn't think he was ever coming back. He broke off their connection to safeguard Yani's future from harm. He gave her what she needed to have a life for herself and Sydette while also freeing her to live the way she wanted without falling back on some new wasteman because of poverty and the lack of choices most women had to survive in the world without resources and support. The man loved her, but he knew the reality in store for him and gambled on the side of practical considerations. She fought the idea of him leaving her for her best interests for so long that it had become an albatross around her neck. Yani had been caught up in the euphoric perfection of love that she thought it was enough to hold them together. Killmonger knew better because he had first-hand experience of life and love being torn asunder fast by external forces. Disa experienced the same thing and opted out on her own because the writing was on the wall.

He was going to die.

Yani slammed her hand over her mouth and held back the crumbling sounds of her mournful understanding. Killmonger had been hers because of the diaphanous webbing of simple fate. If Disa's first pregnancy had gone to term, there would've been a child in the world back in the foreign where he may have skipped coming to St. Thomas altogether. Disa simply standing in her truth and choosing her mental, physical, and spiritual health over constant uncertainty allowed Yani to have the life she led now. One woman turning her back on a man she deeply loved transformed Yani's future. That same woman extended friendship and sisterly love all because she had been where Yani stood and wanted to help her move beyond it, too.

"Princess Yani, do you need some help?"

Mpilo approached her, and Yani swiped at her eyelids and looked at him.

"I'm fine, Mpilo. Thank you for asking."

"Congratulations on your new title. It is fitting and I like how it sounds," he said.

He regarded her face with concern. Yani shifted her stance and glanced at the painting of her and Disa one more time before engaging Mpilo again.

"Will you be leaving the office soon?" she asked.

"Oh, no! Prince N'Jadaka has changed my job title too! He extended my stay in the palace."

"I would like to visit his office. Would you mind escorting me there?"

He jumped at the chance.

"This way Princess Yani!"

Yani had dismissed the palace guards from trailing her. The palace was secure, and she liked the freedom of walking with Mpilo. They reached the bridge to the West Palace, and she took a moment to admire the view and gazed at Mount Bashenga. Mpilo stared at the mountain with her and shuddered.

"What?" Yani asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking that Prince N'Jadaka is a brave man. The Temple of Bast is a formidable place. Most Wakandans will never step foot there."

"Why not?"

"They go by ancient ways up there. There are rites of passage that take place where some people never return because it is too much."

"You mean people have died up there?"

"Oh yes. Some have gone insane or just come back… different. I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you. Death rarely happens anymore because no regular citizen dares step foot on holy ground. Prince N'Jadaka is a powerful man, so I know he will be fine. It is not a place for weak minds, and he has never shown weakness in anything. Sometimes I look at that mountain and I get nervous, but I like that it watches over us. The old Gods live there," he said.

Yani departed the bridge with Erik on her mind. The West Palace was a flurry of activity. There seemed to be more people moving about than she remembered before she left the city. Staff moved aside as she sauntered through, and the bows and downcast eyes followed her all the way to Erik's floor.

Whoa.

The entire area was under transformation. Construction workers and building inspectors flitted about, and Yani had to follow Mpilo through a narrow, protective walkway to reach Erik's office.

"The prince's floor is expanding with his office space for when he takes the throne. Bigger staff too… we're moving things around with all the additions," Mpilo said.

He tapped in a code for Erik's original space and they walked in on several workers moving in protected boxed files and stacking them in Tlotlsiso's reception area. Tlotliso scurried around with a thin, clear comm tab and checked every file box brought in. Yani's arrival stopped the workflow, and everyone bowed to her before continuing their tasks.

"Be careful," Tlotliso said as they maneuvered around stacks that were over six feet tall.

Mpilo guided Yani into Erik's inner office. She walked around it, admiring its extravagance.

"If you will excuse me, Princess Yani. I need to help out there," Mpilo said.

"How was he before he left?" Yani asked.

Mpilo paused at the door.

"Determined," he said with a smile.

He left her alone, and Yani stared at the painting of Queen Shuriya. Yani tried to pose like her, lifting her head with a haughty air, throwing her shoulders back, one hand on her hip, and stepping forward with her left leg.

She padded over to a large stack of sealed metal boxes arranged on a floating pallet. Piles of sealed folders and political reports sat on his neat desk. Yani sat down in his office chair and took in the room. Erik's scent permeated the air. He wore a cologne that his father used to have created in Wakanda, and the aroma of masculine strength aroused her senses. She noticed a newly framed photo of his parents near his embedded desk comm tab. It was the original photo of N'Jobu and Califia used for their sarcophagus. There was so much work on his desk and more coming for him. She tapped her kimoyo and swiped past files, searching for the digital copy of the abstract she had at her villa.

For years, Yani thought Erik was a simple soldier turned mercenary. The military life was for poor people, and her impression of Killmonger back then was a smart man who forged a path to seek his fortunes in the underworld of crime through his past military connections. He was the bad man on the hill working for the ultimate bad guy, Klaue.

The truth, given to her by T'Challa and Disa, made her head spin. Naval Academy. M.I.T. Tony Stark. Black Ops. Killmonger was a genius who used the navy to track Klaue and use his dead body to gain access to a futuristic kingdom. Yani opened up her copy of the abstract and read his words again. The eloquent writing didn't match the brutality she had witnessed back home. The command of language, the nuance inserted throughout his ideas for childbirth and health… he had actively listened to Yani's thoughts and concerns when she was beginning her journey into medicine. So much of the text fleshed out her novice concepts into actionable items that could happen in the Caribbean and throughout the diaspora. His experience of almost losing Sweet Pea with her was embedded in the report, and Yani shivered at the memory. Erik wanted her in charge of rolling out a plan to stop Black maternal death. He trusted her mind and experience and listed the resources he was willing to give to make sure she was well-funded and supported. She already had plans to contact her former mentor, a Black woman doctor back in St. Thomas.

The hidden layers of him astounded Yani. He had been an iceberg floating in her island world, never allowing her to see below the surface the immense wealth, intelligence, and power he held in his hand. She knew the inner parts of him he showed her willingly. The soft core that relished quiet times, cooking, making love, playing with babies, luxuriating in the presence of elders, praying, and spoiling her. The outer core had been prickly forbidden fruit. Only Disa had tasted that part of him, and Yani felt lucky to bypass so much of the past trauma Killmonger carried.

St. Thomas protected her from the harsh fullness of him and cocooned them in a fog of dreamy wish fulfillment. Their love had been real. There were no false notes to it. There were red flags about where he came from and what he intended to do with Klaue's crew, but that was a given considering they were all bad guys. Killmonger had slipped up and part of his mask fell away, revealing the sweet humanity that was underneath that coarse exterior. That was what she fell in love with. That was the real him. Not knowing he was some Black Einstein with a graduate degree and phenomenal family background didn't change her perspective. Their love wasn't just a steamy fantasy. He hadn't just felt sorry for her and tossed her riches after he left. Killmonger cared about her as his woman. Stood up for her. Slammed anyone who came at her sideways. They stepped into their love, knowing it was doomed.

Now he was back.

Glancing around the lavish office, she conceded that the prince was destined for more than domestic drama. Yani, Disa, their children, and the rest of the royal family were minor planets in the cosmos that was Erik Killmonger Stevens. Compared to the grandiose plans lying before her, feeling sorry for herself and Disa's situation was nothing in the scheme of future history that was about to be shaken to the bone.

Yani glanced at Queen Shuriya's portrait again.

Erik had her eyes. Her stance. Her vision to reshape the world to do her bidding. Yani never felt prouder to have her son than at that moment. Riki was linked to two families filled with powerful people. They embraced her daughter as their own and elevated Sydette to her brother's level as a royal.

Erik would transform the world, and Yani had a front-row seat to guide his hand in it because he wanted her there beside him.

"Princess Yani."

Tlotliso came into the office with a humble bow and a fancy tea set on a clear tray.

"I brought you some tea and flat biscuits," Tlotliso said.

"Thank you," Yani said.

Tlotliso brought the tray and sat it on the only open space on the desk. She poured a red tea, Erik's favorite, and set it next to the breakfast treats.

"Will you be staying here long? I can order up a mid-morning snack for you."

Yani lifted the teacup and blew lightly over the liquid. She peered at the woman with cautious energy.

"No, I just wanted to check on some things."

"Would you like a tour of what is going on?"

Tlotliso's pleasant attitude made Yani suspicious if the niceties were only because she was higher royalty and not just a noblewoman anymore.

"I would like that," Yani said.

She took another sip of the tea and left the desk, following Tlotliso out of the inner office. Mpilo worked with the other staff, bringing in more boxes. Yani waved at him and he grinned happily. Tlotliso took her to a floating wall that held images of what Erik's floor would look like before he returned.

"Gorgeous," Yani said.

Tlotliso swiped an image and overlayed it on the mess of construction and business going around all the expansion. Yani admired what it would all look like eventually.

"Wow, this place is going to look so good. Will they finish it on time?" Yani said.

"We have until the actual coronation. Our goal is to have it done before Prince Erik flies to Warrior Falls," Tlotliso said.

"Warrior Falls? Why would he go there? He is being given power as part of the peace agreement."

"He still must face challenges to the throne from the other tribes."

"He has to fight again for what is rightfully his?"

"It is our way. We give every tribe the opportunity to gain a pathway to the throne. Prince N'Jadaka is not exempt."

Yani glared at the woman.

"Shall we continue, Your Highness?" Tlotliso said.

Yani nodded and took in the floor, checking out the designs and new wall and ceiling inscriptions and carvings on columns. Workers brought in new covered furniture, floor rugs, and artwork. She checked her kimoyo after half an hour.

"I must go now," Yani said.

She walked with slow, deliberate steps toward the private elevator, trying her best not to let Tlotliso sense the urge to run. She swiped her hand over the elevator and waited to leave. The public elevator dinged, and she turned her head to see what other new luxury item was being given for Erik's posh new office. A palace guard and Remy stepped out of the elevator. Remy held a box of files and there was a shocked expression on his face. The two men lowered their heads to Yani.

"What are you doing here?" Yani asked.

"I work for the Governing Board," Remy said.

"Finally, you made it," Tlotliso said.

Erik's personal assistant stopped short when she noticed Yani was still on the floor staring at Remy from across the room. The familiar energy bothered Yani.

"You know each other?" Yani asked.

Tlotliso took the files from Remy and glanced at Yani.

"Mnumzana Ramatla Ntu finally brought us papers that Prince N'Jadaka requested before he left this morning," Tlotliso said.

"Is something wrong?" Remy asked.

Yani shook her head and gave a slight grin.

"No. I guess I'm surprised to see you here, of all places."

Tlotliso watched both of them and Yani quickly took on the stance of a royal and tuned down the informal tone of her words and used her best formal Wakandan.

"I leave you to your work," Yani said.

Remy held up his hands in the triangular shape of respect for her status. Tlotliso did the same and Yani did a high step, throwing her shoulders back like Queen Shuriya, and entered the private elevator. Remy left with the guard back into the public elevator. She went down several floors and crossed over an expansive hall to another section of the West Palace amid stares at her rushed movement.

"Princess Yani."

Disa's morning receptionist stood and paid his respects.

"I need to speak to Lady Abdullah," Yani said.

"She is in an important planning meeting—"

"This is more important. Let her know I am here waiting for her."

The receptionist nodded and tapped his desk and an earbud.

"Apologies for disturbing you, Lady Abdullah. Princess Yani is here to see you."

Moments later, Disa strolled out with a big smile on her face. She held out her hands like she was highlighting Yani.

"Look at you, Princess Yani, congratulations," Disa said.

"Can we talk somewhere private?"

Disa glanced over at her receptionist.

"Can you please tell the team that I'm taking a quick break for a family matter?" Disa said.

"Thank you," Yani said.

"Let's go in here," Disa said, leading Yani into a side room with different building models on display in glass cases.

"What's up?" Disa asked.

"Did you know Erik has to go to Warrior Falls again and face anyone who wants to fight him for the throne?"

"I didn't."

"I was talking to Tlotliso about Erik's office expansion and she gave me a tour. She told me he has to do it even if the throne was handed to him. I know the other tribes are going to fight to take the throne from him."

"With all the turmoil going on, you're probably right," Disa said.

"I don't want him to fight again. He has too much to accomplish if he loses to someone stronger. They might kill him for good this time and Shuri won't be able to save him again—"

Yani sucked in her breath to calm herself down.

"Let's do this. Can you stay for dinner tonight with the royal family?" Disa asked. "We can talk to T'Challa together and see what's really going to happen when Erik comes back."

"I can't go through this again," Yani said.

Yani's shoulders slumped, and she rubbed her forehead as Disa contemplated the news with her.

"We'll all come to dinner," Yani said. "I refuse to believe Umama and Baba Z would go for tradition over getting their lost grandson back, only to face death again. Erik would never tap out of a fight, and I don't want Riki or Sydette to watch open brutality like that."

"I agree," Disa said.

"Lady Abdullah… the team is asking for you," the receptionist said in a soft voice.

"I'll be there in a minute," Disa said.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your work. I thought you might know more than me because you're here," Yani said.

"It's fine… really."

"Go on back to your business. I just needed… needed to ask about this."

"Dinner then? Joba will be excited to see Riki and Sydette. She has some new fairy lights to show them," Disa said.

"Dinner," Yani said.

They stared at one another as if they wanted to say more to each other, but Disa returned to her inner office. Yani had wanted to speak about her new status, but she could do that later in the night since she had left her proclamation in Erik's office by accident. She left Disa's office and pondered hitting up Shuri or T'Challa before going home to calm her jitters about Erik fighting. Sighing, she decided to wait until dinner so that she and Disa could hear the truth together.

Erik stepped from the Royal Scorpion Fighter and drew in a deep breath of the fresh, high-altitude air. The air pressure made his temples throb, and he forced yawns out to make his ears pop.

Three male priests, three female priests, and two non-binary priests greeted him at the end of the Scorpion Fighter ramp. Cloaked in violet-colored robes that covered their heads too, the priests waited for Griot Shange and his helpers to approach him.

"Remove your robe please, Prince N'Jadaka," Shange said.

Erik unfastened the robe all the way to his feet and pulled it off. He stood naked before them as one helper took the robe from him. A woman came to him with a bowl and a brush and gently painted his entire body with Wakandan symbols with yellow paint that smelled like they made it from flowers.

"Follow us please," a female priest said.

All the priests turned away from him and led him through the pathway of the main temple that favored a grand ziggurat that had an opening decorated all over with panther statues that had nothing on the giant one on top of the entrance. The surrounding energy was quiet, and Erik didn't hear any birds… no sounds at all. There was a hushed grace on the grounds. His bare feet dodged pebbles and twigs before he stepped on the smooth temple floor.

The interior of the first temple was cool and a single shaft of natural light fell upon a raised circular table containing a pearl-colored gemstone that glowed with its own inner light.

"That is your spirit filling up the temple," Shange said as the stone grew brighter.

"Strong," said the priest to his left.

The walls and several fixtures embedded in the stone walls slowly lit up with neon blue and green lights that reminded Erik of vibranium, but more ancient.

"The Gods accept your presence. Bast must think you are worthy," Shange whispered to him.

Another woman, covered in white painted symbols and nude like Erik, stepped forward with a small, heated sharp blade and cut marks under his eyes. He hissed with the burning cuts, but he withstood the pain and kept his eyes on a massive wall carving of Bast.

"Let us begin," a non-binary priest said.

A vibration swelled inside the temple and for the first time since arriving, Erik felt afraid. The noise vibrated his teeth and skin and his flesh crawled with the sound that grew more powerful. The carving of Bast rippled, then moved like the Goddess was testing the flexibility of the stone skin. He gasped as the lips of the enormous mouth stretched open, speaking his name with an ancient, gritty tongue.

Eyes behind his own eyes pushed against his eye sockets with the increased vibration as Ogum woke up to meet Bast. The heavy physical sensations of his maternal family's warrior orixá greeting the Panther Goddess of his father's family short-circuited his overloaded brain.

Erik passed out and fell to the floor.

Chapter 57 HERE.

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[tomtenadia]

For the love of a kingdom - 35

Hellooooo... your truly is back from her holiday and it’s time to start posting again. Ready for fluff?

There is still the epilogue to come, but as far as the story goers, this is it...

Rowan Whitethorn, king consort, husband and mate to the queen hated court life. He loved to stay in the background and be a blacksmith or train the guards with his friends and the Bane. Attending council sessions was not his favourite past time.

But on his wedding day and his official coronation he had promised Aelin to be king when needed.

Now it was that time. Yrene had placed Aelin on bed rest. She was almost due and as promised the healer had come back to Terrasen to deliver the heir. Rowan was terrified. Aelin’s entire pregnancy had been difficult but Yrene assured him that it was normal with fae. He trusted the woman and as soon as she said bed rest he had trotted to Aelin with a smug face. He had been begging his wife for a while but Aelin was stubborn. Until Yrene made that call and Aelin could not protest anymore.

So while she was in bed, his job was to attend council meetings. Luckily for him he had Aedion and Fenrys and a few other people that he liked. The council had been remade from scratch. Aedion was still her general, Fenrys was the ambassador in charge of relations and trade deals with other lands. The rest of the members had been vetted thoroughly and Rowan was happy to admit that they had a decent council.

“Good morning council,” he said while sitting down at the main chair “Her majesty has asked me to pass on her apologies. She has been placed on bed rest until the end of the pregnancy so unfortunately you will have to deal with me for a few hours.”

The council nodded and he took out a thick file “First on the agenda,” his stare turned to Fenrys “ambassador Moonbeam, how is the deal with the witchlands progressing…”

*

Attending the council was already painful enough but what Rowan hated the most was the stupid clothes he had to wear. Fenrys had given him a long speech on why the king consort could not hold council in training leathers and packing enough metal to defeat an army by himself. Aelin had found that sexy. Fenrys had told him that it was breaking so many rules of court life. The man had thrived with castle life. He was in his element and had offered to help Rowan navigate all its intricate rules.

He unbuttoned the top of his tunic and felt like breathing again, then quickly he walked to the kitchens. Aelin had been miserable and he knew that cake would help her mood a lot and the cook had always some ready for the queen.

AS he entered he noticed that the place was once again in full swing, getting ready for lunch.

Emrys spotted him right away “Rowan, here for more cake?”

“You are my saviour.”

“We need to keep our girl happy.” He passed him a box which contained Aelin’s favourite chocolate hazelnut cake.

Rowan thanked the cook and ran outside and all the way back to the royal wing. He strode in and saw Aelin propped up in bed reading a book. As soon as she saw him she perked up but her smile grew excited at the sight of the box in his hands. Rowan smirked and placed it on the table and went to the closet to change in more comfortable clothes.

“How was the council?”  He could hear her twitching nervously.

Loving to tease her, he undressed very slowly and placed all the clothes neatly on their racks, knowing full well that Aelin was growing impatient.

“It was all fine. Everyone is doing what they are meant to do.”

“Good.”

Rowan walked to her and kissed her “and how is my wonderful wife?” Slowly he pulled down the blanket and pushed up her gown and exposed her belly and kissed the bump and a kick reached him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He kept caressing her belly enjoying the movements of their child “no, I don’t think so.”

“The cake, Whitethorn.”

He laughed hard “I am hurt. It sounds like you love chocolate cake more than me.”

Her face moved closer to his “I would gladly trade you for chocolate.”

His mouth went on the bump “your mum is evil, little one.” Another kick and Rowan laughed “our child agrees with me.”

Aelin pouted and folded her arms around her chest so Rowan decided it was finally time to stop angering his wife.

He walked to the table and came back with a plate and a slice of cake “One slice, Emrys has asked me to make it last.”

The cook had started looking at her cake intake after the incident when at night Aelin had sneaked into the kitchen and ate the whole chocolate cake that was on the table. It was meant to be for the child of one of the maids. Emrys had to bake it again the following morning.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

As soon as the plate was in her hands she started eating and making obscene sounds “get a room you two.”

“Whitethorn, I would happily cheat on you with this cake.”

He flicked her nose playfully “then I might go and find myself a much younger queen who actually loves me more than sweet treats.”

Aelin placed the plate on her belly and glared at him. If he was jealous she was just as much. And now that she was pregnant she had become even more territorial.

He laughed at her expression.

“Be careful, the dungeons still remembers the shape of your arse.”

He lay at her side and grabbed the book she abandoned. Very likely another one of those smut novels she and Lys loved to read.

“So this stuff turns you on? Just by reading it?”

She turned her face to him and he roared with laughter at her chocolate smeared face “I just imagine you doing that stuff with me.”

“Do you?”

Aelin dipped her finger in the chocolate ganache and then licked it clean in a very sensual and teasing way.

Rowan groaned.

“I’ll set the cake aside if you join me.”

Her mate sat up and kissed her nose “finish the cake, fireheart.”

“You don’t love me anymore.”

“I do, but Yrene said no sex, so for now the books will have to do.”

“Traitors.”

*

When Rowan was pulled awake in the middle of the night by his distressed wife, it took him a second to realise that it was not a nightmare and they were safe in their bedroom.

“Ro…” her voice laced with deep panic.

“What’s wrong?

He switched on the oil lamp and looked at Aelin. She was holding her belly.

“Something is not right.”

Panic surged in him. Rowan jumped off the bed, wore a shirt and his gown and ran out of the room and straight to the healer. She had told him over and over that it was okay to call her in the middle of the night if there were problems. That was definitely an emergency.

“Yrene, I need you. Something is wrong with Aelin.”

The woman seemed to wake up all of a sudden “go back to her, let me grab my stuff I am right behind you.”

He ran away quickly and back to Aelin who was now laying on her side and groaning in pain.

“Yrene is coming.”

The healer arrived very quickly, pushed Rowan aside and started examining the queen.

“Aelin… your water broke and your baby is coming.”

“Three weeks…”

“Yes, you are a bit early but babies have their own schedule and it seems like yours is eager to meet their parents.”

“It hurts.”

“Rowan sit at her side, hold her and use the bond or whatever to comfort her.”

He moved quickly and joined his mate at her side.

“This is your fault, Whitethorn.” She screamed as a contraction spread through her.

“Aelin this might take a while.”

The queen groaned in anger “get that thing out of meeee…”

Rowan pulled her to his chest and started singing in the old language and Aelin relaxed until the next contraction came.

*

It was early morning when Princess Aisling Whitethorn-Galathynius came to the world screaming at the top of her lungs. Aisling was a beautiful baby girl with the hair the same shade of silver as her father and the eyes the same bright green. She was tiny but had kept her mother in labour all night long.

Rowan never left her side, providing her any sort of comfort she needed. He stood at the bottom of the bed and watched his daughter come to life after Yrene suggested it. He would never be ashamed to admit that in that instant he had cried. His daughter was there. The healer passed him the screaming bundle who looked tiny in his strong arms.

Slowly he walked to Aelin “ready to meet your mum?”

He placed the little girl in her mother’s arms and sat at his wife’s side. 

“She is gorgeous, buzzard.”

Rowan pulled his arm behind her back and enclosed them both in a protective embrace “she really is, and she is ours.”

Aelin started sobbing “it was worth it.”

The warrior kissed his wife’s head “all of it. She is worth it.”

Aelin fell asleep quickly but their daughter was still awake so he grabbed her and decided to go

and introduce her to their friends who had all gathered in the big living room for news.

“We are going to meet a lot of friends, mo leanbh.”

Before opening the doors he kissed the girl’s head and then finally made his entrance.

“I bring a guest.”

Heads turned at his voice and he glared at them all when they were about to scream. Yes, his daughter was awake but he did not want her terrified.

“Please meet princess Aisling Whitethorn-Galathynius.”

“Rowan, she is gorgeous.” Squealed Lysandra.

“Hey, she is a mini you.” Added Fenrys grinning.

“Are you sure she is your daughter? Way too cute.” The last comment had come from Lorcan who was watching the mayhem from behind Elide.

Aedion was the first one who got to hold her, him being the official uncle he had that privilege.

“How’s Aelin?”

“She is exhausted and sleeping,” he explained while he kept an eye on his daughter who was being passed around the room.

“I can see all the future princes of Erilea queuing up to be with her.

Rowan growled lightly. Males had better stay away from his daughter unless they wanted a painful death.

“Is it okay for me to announce your people that the princess is born and well?”

Rowan looked at Fenrys and sighed. He wished to keep the news private for a while longer but was also aware that his citizens were looking forward the new heir.

“Yes, but no public appearances until Aelin is fit to do so and wants to do it.”

The blonde man smiled “Of course, my king. I will also write a lot of letters to our allies and announce the good news.”

Rowan smiled. His friend had taken seriously his job as ambassador and liaison and it was wonderful to see him that motivated.

When Aisling started fussing he bid his farewell to the group and walked back to the room and while he was walking he started telling his daughter about his adventures with her mother “she is fierce and amazing. She cares a lot and it took me a while to realise it,” he bounced her gently at the girl cooed happily “But I love her and now we have you too and you are our ray of light after a really dark time for both.”

Rowan kept walking along the corridors until he reached the royal wing.

Once back in the room Aelin was wide awake and sitting down. She still looked exhausted.

“Oh you are the one who stole my baby.”

He passed her her daughter “we went to meet the family.”

Aelin pulled the little girl to her chest “did you meet that crazy bunch of aunts and uncles?”

Aisling started fussing.

“I think she is hungry.”

Rowan climbed back in bed and sat at his mate’s side as watched her nursing their baby.

“She will probably be a bottomless pit like you.”

“Did you hear him, Aisling? You have a mean dad.”

Rowan flicked her nose “I am just aware that is something that might happen. She is half you, after all.”

“You eat. And don’t listen to him,” a kiss on the girl’s head “when you are older I will introduce you to the wonders of chocolate cake.”

Rowan laughed and held them both in his arms. 

The better world he had desperately sought was there in his embrace.

His wife and a daughter.

And the joy of a place to call home.

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[lorieninksong]

Mini Anxiety Management Tutorial

I put together these resources for the blue bird hellsite and realized sharing them here might be good. *sigh* Times are tough. This is a thread of anxiety management skills/resources for beginners. I am not a medical professional, these are the resources I have learned that work for me. The bad news about our brains is they're good at latching onto fear and anxiety. The good news is they're hilariously poorly wired which gives you effectively a few biological konami codes to try to calm down.

Lets start with breath techniques:

Box breathing (the first technique Dr. Jo teaches) has been the most helpful for me. The best thing is no one will notice if you're around people. Breathing techniques can be scary at first and may take practice. Be patient and don't push yourself too hard, and if you feel like you can't keep up with the pacing of these techniques please stop for a moment. Stressed and sore? Maybe its time to use Progressive Muscle Relaxation to address the places stress hides in your body:

It may sound strange but stress and other emotions can 'hide' in various places in your body. When using this exercise please be mindful of your own limits and if something you tense causes pain please don't proceed. If it hurts you should stop. Is it your brain that won't stop buzzing with worry? You can try Grounding Techniques to focus on your connection with the physical here and now:

And of course the new darling, Mindfulness Meditations. I'm going to link to everyone's favorite instructions:

Caveat: For some (maybe 1/10?) mindfulness can exacerbate the problem. If it doesn't work for you, don't force it. Something that works well for me is giving your worried thoughts boundaries. Example: 'I'm worried about X but its the weekend and the (insert relevant establishment here) won't open until Monday. I can't do anything about it right now, so I'm just going to do something else."

Still feeling overwhelmed? We're past the basics, but I have one last resource to share: A Distress Tolerance workbook.

But most of all don't forget those around you. Ask for help and support if you need it, be it from the people or animals in your life. The best thing you can do for your mental health and to endure traumatic events is to stay together.

On a personal note its always okay to DM me, send an ask, or approach me on Discord (you can even ask my whole little community for help in the 'difficult discussions' thread on my server located here: https://discord.gg/ryHssnW6 ) I can't promise I'll have the answer, or even the life experience to fully recognize what you are going through, but I won't judge you and will do my best to answer and help as soon as my own spoons allow. You won't be bothering me or pushing me when its detrimental to my well-being; you can trust me to assert my own boundaries. I know it feels like things can't/won't get better a lot of the time. But I'm still here. You're still here. In that sense we have what we need, no matter how bad things get. Suffering is finite, the continuity of life on this planet thus far is not. We are here.

[iridescentcicada]

I'm Sorry.

Being human isn't always easy. You know this. Sometimes there's just nothing to say, sometimes it just feels like there's a gap in understanding that would render words futile. It's not your fault, it's not my fault. Forget "fault". I'm not asking for pity, but for your sake, please try to understand how defeating and solitude-inducing it is to have a perspective and awareness that varies so much from the vast majority. It might just be impossible for you to know exactly where I'm coming from, but try to infer. I know that you understand to a degree. The audacity to think of myself in this light, right? Delusions of grandeur, a long-untreated desire to be "special" that has chased me into adulthood. No, no. Not merely, anyhow. The ego facilitates expression from the "inner" to the "outer", and can muddy things up if mishandled, but I'm only speaking honestly. It can't be helped that truthful words are often triggering, and I promise that I don't lean on this idea like a crutch. I'm being real, here. I've said I'm harmless, but perhaps it's better put that I never possess ill intent. Empathy is in our nature, and despite the layers of conditioning that we all receive in varying ways, I've never been the type to stray too far from this. I've always loved you, looked up to you, was inspired by you, and many times in the past, jealous of you. I never let my jealousy cause me to mistreat you, though. Eventually, as I became more of an adult and more of my own person, I grew to see you on equal footing. I'm still coming to grips with the possibility that my ideas of what qualifies as a "friend" at this point are unrealistic, and there's just always going to be that gap. Differences are meant to be celebrated, after all. For seven years now more than ever, I've had the ever-increasing experience of struggling to relate to other people. I regularly make a conscious effort to bridge the gap in the connections I make, however brief, but it all ends up feeling like an act at the end of the day. Like I have to pretend for other people's sake when they won't or can't yet make the same efforts for me. People pleasing. Another ego trap. I'm tired of wearing masks, and as they continue to wear thin and fall off, I make adjustments in my life to better represent the truth of who I am--just as anyone should. I am sorry that your presence in my life was one of many adjustments that I had to make. I wish we could be friends. On paper, you seem like the best I could hope for. Letting go of you was difficult and painful, so it's only natural that severing that would hurt you, too. Just know that I mean well, I hope you're doing well, and if not, I trust that you're on your way to a happier, freer, more authentic life. It's happening to everyone; a sign of the times. Your voice, your art, deserves to be witnessed. You deserve love, friends and romance. All the good stuff. Just remember that it starts with giving it to yourself. I wasn't sure how to vocalize my headspace when we interacted last, and it led to me ghosting you. I was confused and afraid. Maybe I'm still afraid, since I'm typing and posting this here instead of messaging it to you. I am sorry.