#Tree Trimming Orange

[foundationsofdecay]

fruits!

[athousandvoicestalk]

Inspiration for a large traditional full sun backyard concrete paver landscaping.

Przeprowadzki w Gdansku

[selwlsa]

Licensed Tree Trimming And Removal Service In Orange Park FL

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[velouriaris]

Silk Chains & Crimson Bones

⚠️ Content Warnings:

Graphic violence to reader (bone-breaking), Yandere / obsessive behavior, Non-con themes & captivity, Emotional and psychological distress, Character deaths, Kidnapping, Sebastian is being a cruel demon, Punishment

18+ — Mature content. Read with caution.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly, painting warm orange hues across the wooden walls of the secluded forest cabin. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, but within, it was quiet—too quiet. Every sound that did exist was Sebastian. His footsteps. His voice. The subtle rustling of fabric when he moved. He was everywhere, and you had nowhere to escape from him.

Dinner had been quiet—at least, until he began to speak.

Sebastian sat across from you at the small, candlelit table, pouring a warm cup of tea with elegance only someone inhuman could maintain. You watched him cautiously, sitting stiffly in the modest lace-trimmed nightgown he’d dressed you in earlier. It was far too sheer for comfort, clinging to your form like silk fog. You hated how your skin showed through it… hated how he looked at you.

But you couldn’t stop him.

Not really.

Not when he cooked every meal. Brushed your hair. Carried you when you were too weak to walk. Not when his red eyes followed you with that constant hunger hidden just beneath civility.

He set the cup in front of you gently.

“Eat,” he said, voice low, velvet and commanding. “I tailored this meal especially for your palate. You wouldn't want me to think you're ungrateful, would you?”

You looked down at the food—perfectly arranged, fragrant, warm. You hadn’t eaten since the day before. Your stomach ached with hunger. But your hands trembled.

“I… I’m not hungry,” you whispered.

Sebastian raised a brow.

“You are lying,” he murmured, lifting a fork to your lips. “Humans are terribly fragile. A single missed meal and you’re already fainting. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

You hesitated… then took a bite.

The taste exploded across your tongue—sweet, buttery, too good to be real. You chewed slowly, silently, shame curling in your gut.

He smiled.

“See? You can be good.”

You looked down, lips trembling. “Why are you doing this…?”

“Doing what, my sweet?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his eyes half-lidded with that cruel amusement.

“Keeping me here,” you breathed. “Treating me like some… doll. I didn’t ask for this.”

He tilted his head, expression unchanging.

“I’ve kept you safe. Fed you. Washed you. Even clothed you, quite tastefully, I might add. A doll? No, no. You’re far too precious for such comparison.”

You clenched your fists on your lap, voice shaking. “That’s not love.”

Sebastian smiled wider.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. Love is simply devotion paired with ownership. And you, darling… you are mine.”

The tea burned in your throat as you swallowed.

When dinner ended, you tried to rise and retreat to the bed. But Sebastian was already there before you.

As if he had always been waiting.

You stepped back instinctively when he held out a hand.

“Come.”

“N-No. I—I want to sleep alone tonight.”

His smile didn’t fade. If anything, it grew darker.

“You don’t get to want anymore.”

Your heart jumped as he approached slowly, circling behind you. You felt the heat of his presence as his hand ghosted over your lower back, guiding you gently—too gently—toward the bed.

“I’ve been very patient,” he murmured against your ear. “But patience has its limits.”

The mattress dipped under your weight as you were guided to sit, knees pressed together, fingers trembling in your lap.

Sebastian leaned over you, caging you between his arms.

His body pressed close—too close. His scent overwhelmed your senses: roses, ashes, the metallic trace of blood. He was impossibly warm, his breath fanning over your cheek.

“You’ve never been touched before,” he whispered. “I can tell. Your body shivers every time I brush it. Your lashes flutter when I speak too low.”

You turned your face away, shame stinging your eyes.

“I don’t want this,” you choked.

His gloved hand slid under your chin, tilting your face back toward his.

“But you do. You’re just afraid,” he purred. “So innocent… trembling like a lamb.”

He climbed onto the bed slowly, his weight pressing into the mattress as he hovered above you. You instinctively scooted back until your spine touched the wall.

Sebastian followed.

Every movement was slow, purposeful—like a cat toying with its prey.

You swallowed hard, heart racing.

“Sebastian… please…” your voice broke. “It’s not just that… you… you’re not human. You’re—”

“A demon,” he finished, almost fondly. “Yes.”

He leaned closer, lips inches from yours.

“And yet, here I am… drawn to a trembling, delicate thing like you.”

You shook your head. “It’s not right. My body—your strength—it’s dangerous.”

He chuckled. Dark. Cruel. Smooth.

“You’re right, of course,” he whispered. “I could snap your spine with a finger. Tear you in half if I lost control. Break every part of you in the heat of lust.”

You whimpered.

Tears welled in your eyes.

You couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else—but your legs wouldn’t move, your voice refused to scream.

Sebastian leaned in further—so close you could feel the brush of his lips, the tension of the moment winding tighter and tighter like a string pulled to its breaking point.

Then—

He paused.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

The seduction in his expression cracked.

And something… shifted.

He frowned.

“…Tch.”

He pulled back slowly, pushing himself up with one hand beside your head. His expression was unreadable now—distant.

“What is it…?” you whispered, still breathless, still trembling.

His crimson gaze slid toward the shadows of the room.

“What a pity” he muttered, brows furrowing, “my master is calling me.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly.

Relief. Confusion. Dread.

He climbed off the bed with that same slow elegance, brushing his coat straight.

You remained frozen.

He turned to you once more—expression unreadable.

Then the teasing grin returned.

“Don’t think this means you’re safe, little lamb,” he said with a playful tilt of his head. “Your first time with me is inevitable. But I do so enjoy watching you squirm for now.”

You clutched the sheets.

He walked to the door, pausing in the threshold.

“Oh—and try not to run away this time,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, eyes glowing faintly red. “You’re terribly bad at it.”

Then he was gone.

And you were left in the silence.

Heart racing.

Tears falling.

You sit there on the bed for what feels like hours. The blanket is twisted around your fists. Your skin prickles where Sebastian’s hands just touched you, where his breath—warm, hungry—ghosted over your lips. You can still hear his voice: Your first time with me is inevitable… It rings in your mind, over and over, making your stomach twist.

For a long time, you don’t dare move. You just listen to the crackle of the fire. You half-expect him to reappear any second, to saunter back into the room with that smile, to scold you for even thinking of running. But he doesn’t come.

Minutes pass.

Then an hour.

Still, nothing but the lonely sounds of the wind, the pop and hiss of dying embers.

A wild thought takes root in your chest, growing, strangling your fear: Maybe he really is gone. Maybe… this is your only chance.

Your heart pounds with hope and dread.

You slip off the bed. Your legs are weak, trembling from nerves and hunger. Your feet are bare and cold on the rough wooden floor, but you barely notice it. You tiptoe to the small window, pressing your face to the glass. The outside world looks impossibly dark, but also impossibly free. You don’t see Sebastian anywhere—not his coat, not his impossible eyes, not even a flicker of his shadow.

You force yourself to breathe. Slow. Quiet. Like prey.

Every sound feels too loud as you cross the room, grabbing the thin blanket from the bed. It’s not much, but maybe it’ll keep you warm for a little while. The door is old, but it opens with a single gentle push. For a moment, you think the world itself might be holding its breath for you.

You slip out into the cold, your feet sinking into the icy moss and dirt. The wind bites your cheeks, but you don’t dare hesitate. You walk as quickly as you can, biting your lip to keep from sobbing out loud. Every crack of a twig, every snap of a branch, makes your heart jump to your throat. But you keep going. You have to.

The forest is a labyrinth of shadows. The branches scrape your arms and tangle in your hair. Your nightgown—so delicate and lovely in the warm, gilded light of the cabin—now clings to your skin, soaked and ripped by thorns. Each step is agony. Stones slice your feet. Cold mud oozes between your toes. But you keep running, eyes wide and wild.

You think of Sebastian’s hands, his smile, the sound of his laughter when you try to resist. It’s enough to make you choke on your breath. You run faster.

Soon, you don’t know where you are. You don’t care.

All you can hear now is your own ragged breathing, the pounding of your pulse, and—finally—your own voice, whimpering in the darkness.

Please. Please, let me get away. Please, let me go home. Please, please…

You force yourself deeper into the woods, using the blanket to try and protect your arms as you shove through the undergrowth. Tears streak your face, hot and endless. It feels like you’re being watched, but you refuse to look back. If you look back, you know you’ll see him. You know he’ll be smiling.

Time loses all meaning. Ten minutes. An hour. You have no idea. Every ache, every gasp, every fear blends into one long, endless moment.

But then—you hear a new sound.

Footsteps.

Not Sebastian’s. He moves like a shadow. These are heavy, slow, cautious. They crunch over the leaves and brush.

You freeze, backing into the base of a tree. Your body shakes so badly you nearly collapse. The blanket slips from your shoulders, pooling at your feet.

A voice calls out, gruff and uncertain:

“Hello? Is someone out there?”

You choke on a sob, hugging yourself tightly. You want to hide. You want to scream. You don’t know if it’s better to risk a stranger than to let Sebastian find you again. But your desperation is stronger than your fear.

“I—over here!” you call, your voice barely more than a trembling whimper.

The footsteps approach. A man appears from behind the trees, lantern swinging in one hand, the other clutching a long hunting rifle. He’s older, beard grizzled, coat worn. He looks at you like he’s seen a ghost.

“What in God’s name…?” he murmurs, eyes widening as he takes in your torn nightgown, your bare feet, your tear-streaked face.

“Please,” you gasp, stumbling toward him, “please, you have to help me. I—I don’t know where I am, I—he’s going to come for me—he’s a monster—he keeps me here—please—”

You fall to your knees in the mud, clutching the hem of his coat, sobbing uncontrollably.

The hunter stares at you, stunned. He kneels down and wraps his coat around your shaking shoulders.

“Easy, miss, easy. You’re safe now. Who’s after you? What happened?”

You can barely answer. The words come out in fragments, choked by fear and exhaustion.

“He’s not—he’s not human. He took me. He keeps me in a cabin, he—please—he’ll come for me—he always comes…”

The hunter glances over his shoulder, brow furrowing. He looks back down at you, voice gentler.

“Alright. I believe you, okay? You’re alright now. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

For a moment, you almost believe him.

For a moment, you almost feel safe.

But somewhere, in the coldest corner of your mind, you hear Sebastian’s voice again—soft, mocking, dark as midnight.

You’re terribly bad at running away.

And you wonder if safety even exists anymore.

The night feels endless.

You huddle against the trunk of an old oak tree, the hunter’s thick coat drowning your petite, trembling body. The mud has seeped into your skin. Your feet sting with a thousand cuts. You still can’t stop crying—silent, hiccuping sobs that shake your chest and make your breath catch. Even as the hunter tries to comfort you, nothing feels real.

He keeps glancing over his shoulder, rifle ready, face shadowed by the swinging lantern. He tries to talk, to get you to answer questions—your name, where you came from, who you’re running from—but every time you try to speak, it’s just another broken sob.

“Shh,” he mutters, crouching beside you, his voice gruff but gentle. “You’re safe now. Whoever he is, he won’t find you. Just breathe, alright?”

You try, but your lungs feel too small. You feel so small. You can barely breathe, barely speak. The coat is so heavy on your shoulders, the sleeves dragging on the ground, but you cling to it like it’s your last hope.

“I—I can’t—he’s coming. He always comes. He—” Your voice breaks, a shivering gasp. “Please don’t leave me alone. Please don’t let him take me.”

The hunter gives you an uneasy look, wiping a hand over his tired face. “We’re gonna get out of these woods, kid. Just… stay close, okay?” He tries to offer you water from a battered canteen, but your hands shake so badly you can’t hold it. He ends up helping you, holding it to your lips like you’re a child.

You try to calm down. You really do. You squeeze your eyes shut, counting your breaths like you used to before the nightmares started. But nothing works. The panic gnaws at you from the inside. Even here, with another person, the terror never leaves. Deep down, you know it’s only a matter of time.

And then—

A twig snaps.

A chill sweeps through the air.

Your entire body goes cold.

The hunter tenses, lifting his rifle. “Who’s there?” he calls, voice suddenly razor-sharp.

There’s a brief silence. The shadows shift, parting like a curtain.

And Sebastian steps out of the darkness, as if the night itself spat him into being.

He looks utterly untouched—immaculate, graceful, every line of his black coat perfectly crisp. His eyes are that impossible, inhuman red, glinting with cold amusement. He could almost pass for a gentleman, except for the way the shadows cling to him, like they know he belongs to them.

He bows his head in a mock greeting.

“Good evening,” Sebastian says, his tone smooth and polite, like he’s entering a ballroom, not a muddy, terror-soaked patch of woods.

The hunter takes a step forward, putting himself between you and Sebastian. “Stay back. Whoever you are, leave now.”

Sebastian’s gaze drifts to you, a soft smile curling his lips—soft, but wrong. His eyes drink in the sight of your tiny, broken form, your tear-streaked face, the way you shrink into the coat as if you could disappear.

He clicks his tongue with gentle disapproval, like you’re a kitten caught out in the rain. “You look dreadful, little one. Running away doesn’t suit you.”

You can’t answer. You’re too busy shaking, the sobs coming even harder, your whole body quaking with cold and terror.

The hunter doesn’t lower his weapon. “I said leave. She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Sebastian’s smile doesn’t falter. He tilts his head, a glimmer of mockery in his eyes. “Oh? And you think you can keep her safe?”

“She told me what you did. She’s terrified. Last warning.”

For a moment, it almost looks like Sebastian is considering it. His gaze flicks from the hunter’s gun to your pale, desperate face. Then he lets out a low, musical laugh.

“Humans and their toys,” he muses, almost fondly. “You really believe that will save you?”

“Stay back!” the hunter barks.

Sebastian spreads his hands as if in surrender, still smiling that cold, unfeeling smile. “If you insist.”

The hunter fires.

The shot cracks through the night. You scream, ducking instinctively, hands flying to your ears.

But Sebastian barely moves. The bullet tears through his chest—there’s a flicker of red, a spatter of something dark on his white shirt. For a split second, you dare to hope.

Then he looks down at the wound, sighs, and straightens his coat. The hole in his chest knits itself together before your eyes. Not a trace of pain. Not a drop of fear.

He meets the hunter’s eyes and grins—wolfish, delighted.

“Ah… human toys,” he repeats, voice gleaming with cruel humor. “They never last.”

The hunter tries to reload, fumbling in panic, but Sebastian is already on him—faster than you can blink. One gloved hand closes around the man’s throat. The rifle clatters to the ground.

“Don’t—!” you choke out, crawling forward on your knees, hands outstretched. “Please, don’t hurt him! Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t—”

Sebastian looks at you, that smile still carved into his face. He squeezes the hunter’s throat just enough to make him gasp and struggle, his boots scraping in the dirt. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he lifts the man clean off the ground, holding him effortlessly in the air.

“I warned you,” Sebastian says, almost conversationally. “But you decided to stand between me and what’s mine. A foolish choice.”

The hunter kicks, claws at Sebastian’s wrist, eyes bulging. Sebastian watches him impassively, as if considering a puzzle. Then he looks at you.

“Watch closely, little one,” he murmurs. “This is what defiance brings.”

He tightens his grip. There’s a sickening crack. The hunter’s body spasms, then goes limp. But Sebastian isn’t done. He lets the body fall to the mud—then, with inhuman strength, drags it back up, clawing into the man’s chest, breaking bone and flesh. The sounds—wet, violent, animal—fill the clearing.

You can only stare, frozen with horror, hot tears blinding you. You can’t scream. You can’t move. You’re too small, too weak, too broken.

Finally, Sebastian drops the ruined body at your feet, blood pooling in the earth.

He wipes his gloved hands, every motion elegant and precise, as if finishing a meal.

He turns to you, crouching down so you’re face to face. His hands, still slick with red, cup your cheeks with mock tenderness. He brushes your tears away with his thumb.

“If you hadn’t run, that poor man would still be alive,” he says, voice low and sweet—almost gentle. “Perhaps he was a father. A husband. Maybe there’s a wife waiting at home, children sleeping by the fire. But now, because of your stubbornness, his family will be left alone in the world. No husband. No father. All because you refused to listen.”

He smiles—soft, icy, unfeeling.

“But this is only the beginning. Next time, it won’t be a stranger who suffers.”

You collapse into the mud, sobbing, your body shaking with terror and guilt. Sebastian rises, towering above you.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, almost lovingly. “And I’ll do whatever I must to make you understand that.”

He bends down, presses a kiss to your tear-stained forehead, then gathers you up in his arms—cradling you like a broken doll.

The night closes in around you, thick and suffocating.

And you realize, with a shiver of horror, that the woods never truly offered you safety.

You belonged to the monster all along.

You don’t remember the exact moment when Sebastian scoops you into his arms, only the sensation of being lifted—weightless, powerless, as if you’re nothing more than a feather to him. His chest is warm but you can feel the fury burning underneath his immaculate exterior. His lips are still curled in that familiar, gentle smile, but you know now it’s nothing but a mask. The real Sebastian lies somewhere behind those crimson eyes, and right now, he’s angry—so angry you can almost taste it in the air.

You cling to the remains of the hunter’s coat, now stained and heavy, but Sebastian tugs it away with a look of mild disgust, letting it drop into the mud beside the corpse. He shifts your petite, trembling form against his chest as he turns and strides silently into the woods.

Each step is impossibly smooth, his long legs covering ground with a predator’s grace. The forest blurs by; you feel the icy wind stinging your cheeks, but you can’t stop shivering. Your small hands fist helplessly in the fabric of his coat. His grip is iron around you—gentle enough not to bruise, but unbreakable all the same.

He doesn’t speak. Not once.

That silence is worse than any threat. You bury your face in his lapel, breath coming in broken, wet hiccups. Your entire body is shaking so violently you’re certain he can feel your fear through every muscle and bone. But Sebastian pays no mind. His heartbeat—if he even has one—never changes pace.

You try to think of anything but what just happened. Anything but the way he destroyed a man in front of you, the way he blamed you for that family’s loss, for a life snuffed out because of your defiance. But your mind spins out of control, painting horrible images: What will he do to you now? What kind of punishment could possibly be “worse than this”?

You don’t realize you’re crying aloud until your voice returns to you, hoarse and raw: “Please… please, Sebastian, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

He doesn’t look down.

You twist in his arms, desperate to see his face, to find a trace of the Sebastian who once stroked your hair and called you sweet. But all you see are those blank, cold eyes—unreadable, almost inhuman in their detachment.

Finally, the trees thin, and you see the cabin’s crooked roof appear through the mist. Panic surges in your chest. Every instinct screams at you to fight, to kick, to run—but you know better. There’s nowhere to go. No more help in these woods. You’re so small, so weak, and he’s already proven just how easily he can take life away.

He crosses the threshold without hesitation, the door swinging open with a single touch. The air inside is as cold as outside; the fire has long since died. Shadows fill every corner. The only thing that feels real is Sebastian’s presence—heavy, oppressive, inescapable.

He carries you straight to the bed and lays you down with careful precision, as if arranging a doll for display. Your body curls in on itself, trembling in the thin nightgown. The mattress dips under your weight, springs creaking in protest.

Sebastian stands over you, silent.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. His hands, now clean but still tainted in your mind, rest at his sides. The old, gentle smile is gone, replaced by a flat, almost vacant expression. The shadows play across his face, deepening the coldness in his eyes.

You stare up at him, your tears spilling sideways into the pillow. Your breath is ragged, your chest heaving with the effort of not sobbing too loudly. But when he doesn’t move, doesn’t offer a word or a touch, the fear becomes too much to bear.

Slowly, you slip off the bed, your tiny feet barely touching the floor before you collapse at his legs. You press your face against his thigh, arms wrapping around his leg like a desperate child. Your body is wracked with violent sobs as you rub your cheek against him, seeking warmth, seeking mercy—like a kitten pleading for forgiveness after knocking over a vase.

“Please—please, Sebastian,” you hiccup, your voice muffled by the fabric of his trousers. “I’m sorry—I’ll never do it again, I promise, I’ll be good, I’ll never run, please don’t hurt me, please…”

You cling to him, trembling, helpless, hoping that your desperation might melt his anger, might awaken some spark of gentleness. You look up at him with wide, swollen eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks, your lips parted in a pleading gasp.

But he doesn’t bend.

He looks down at you—expressionless, empty, his crimson eyes unreadable.

For a moment, he allows you to cling, to nuzzle, to beg—your entire being reduced to a sobbing, shivering bundle at his feet. You whimper and plead, repeating every promise you can think of, your words running together, desperate to appease him.

But his eyes don’t soften.

His jaw doesn’t relax.

If anything, the longer you beg, the colder he seems.

Did you really think such pitiful displays would spare you? Did you really think, by playing the frightened kitten, you could melt a demon’s fury?

The room feels smaller, colder, as you realize—he won’t be moved by tears.

He won’t be moved by anything at all.

And the true punishment hasn’t even begun.

You shudder, hiccupping violently, hoping—praying—for even a flicker of mercy in those hell-red eyes.

But Sebastian doesn’t soften.

He stands above you, tall and unyielding, eyes fixed on you with that flat, arctic calm. His jaw is tight, his brows slightly drawn. You can feel the tension radiating off him—his fury, restrained only by his impossible self-control.

He lets you tremble and clutch at him for a long, heavy moment, as if testing the limits of your desperation. Finally, his gloved hand closes around the back of your neck—not gently, but not enough to bruise. He forces your head up, making you look into his face.

He’s so close now, you can see every perfect line—the elegant arch of his brows, the sculpted cheekbones, the way his lips twist in a faint, cruel smirk.

“Oh, my little one…” he breathes, voice low, “Do you truly think this pitiful display—your tears, your trembling—will save you? That I will be moved by the sight of you groveling like a frightened kitten?”

His grip tightens just enough to make you wince. He leans down until his lips brush your ear, his voice barely more than a purr:

“Is that what you believed, hm? That you could wriggle out of what you deserve? That your pathetic weeping would make me merciful?”

You try to speak—try to plead—but the words catch in your throat. You’re sobbing too hard to form sentences, your chest tight with terror.

Sebastian’s other hand trails down your back, slow and deliberate, pressing you even closer to his leg.

“You’re mistaken,” he whispers. “You must learn there are consequences for disobedience. You must learn that no matter how much you beg, I decide what you receive. You will not manipulate me with these human tricks—because, little one, I am not human.”

He straightens, forcing you to your knees. He looks down at you, his face carved from ice.

“I have been too gentle. Too forgiving. You mistake my patience for softness—and mistake, perhaps, your own importance. But tonight, I will remind you what I truly am. And I will take from you the only thing you seem to value—your freedom to run.”

You stare up at him, your whole body seized by terror, realizing too late that nothing you do will change his mind.

Sebastian steps back from you. His movements are controlled, almost lazy, but you see the cold fury in his eyes. He drags a chair to the center of the room, sits, and beckons you with one finger—commanding, expectant, as if calling a disobedient animal.

“Come here.”

Your legs barely work. You crawl forward on hands and knees, still sobbing, still hoping for mercy that won’t come. He pulls you up, small and shaking, into his lap. You’re like a ragdoll in his grasp, weightless, helpless, and when his fingers wrap around your wrists, you feel the strength there—the absolute certainty that you cannot resist.

He studies your arms, turning them gently, almost clinically, as if inspecting the limbs of a doll.

“Do you know what I’ve decided, little lamb?” he murmurs, voice soft and dangerous.

You shake your head, eyes wide and swimming with tears.

“If you cannot be trusted with freedom… If you insist on running from me, then I must simply take away your ability to run.”

You flinch, a soft cry escaping your lips. “N-no, please—”

He hushes you with a single finger pressed to your lips, his eyes shining with a dark amusement.

“Hush now. It will be over soon. After all, this is for your own good.”

He stands, lifting you effortlessly, and lays you on the bed. You’re frozen, heart pounding so loudly you think it might burst. Sebastian looms over you, shadows gathering at his back, his face a perfect mask of calm.

He binds your wrists to the headboard with the torn sheet, his movements precise and uncaring of your pleas.

You lie trembling on the bed, wrists bound above your head by strips of torn sheet. Your chest is tight with dread, eyes stinging from too many tears. Sebastian stands at the foot of the bed, face cast in shadow, the cold lamplight flickering across his sharp cheekbones. His lips curve in a small, almost regretful smile, as if he’s about to do something distasteful but necessary.

He seats himself at the edge of the mattress, one hand resting on your shin, the other gloved fingers slowly tracing the soft, trembling line of your calf.

“Such fragile little legs,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So delicate, so lovely. You truly were never made for running, were you?”

You whimper, shaking your head, straining against your bonds. “Please, Sebastian, please—I’ll be good, I promise—don’t—don’t hurt me, please…”

He leans closer, his breath fanning hot and cold over your skin. His eyes narrow with a glint of dark amusement.

“You still don’t understand,” he says, voice low and cruelly patient. “You thought you could run from me, that you could escape with those trembling little feet… Did you think your tears, your pitiful begging would change my mind?”

His hand squeezes your ankle, not painfully yet, just enough to make you shudder.

“It pains me to do this, truly,” he says in a mockingly soft tone, “but it seems some lessons must be written in the body, not just whispered to the soul.”

He cups your ankle with both hands, fingers spidering around the small, fragile bones. You realize with a sickening drop in your stomach that his grip is as gentle as a caress—until, all at once, it’s not.

There’s a sudden, terrible pressure.

Then— Crack.

White-hot pain explodes up your leg. You scream, a shrill, animal sound you didn’t know you could make. Tears and snot run down your face. Your vision goes blurry. The agony is indescribable; it’s as if fire is running through your veins, bones splintering beneath his hands.

He holds your ankle a moment longer, almost as if studying the shape of your torment. He tilts his head, lips curling in a faint smile.

“Shhh,” he soothes mockingly, stroking your sweat-soaked hair. “There, there. It’s only one. We have three left, don’t we?”

He releases your ankle and moves to your other leg. Your body thrashes in panic, heels digging at the sheets, but you’re helpless—so much smaller and weaker than him.

He grips your other calf, pinching the thin bone between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s almost poetic, don’t you think?” he muses. “You insist on running, so I must simply take that away. I assure you, this is for your own good. It hurts me—” his voice softens with feigned sorrow, “—but not as much as it hurts you, I’m sure.”

Before you can scream again, there’s another sickening crack.

Your world becomes pain. Both legs are burning, useless, twisted wrong. You’re sobbing so hard you can barely breathe, your voice reduced to a hoarse, animal wail. The agony is overwhelming, eclipsing every thought, every plea, until the only thing left is the feeling of him above you.

Sebastian sits back, surveying your ruined legs with the clinical detachment of a surgeon. “Now, now. Hush, little one. The worst is almost over,” he says with mock comfort, his voice syrupy sweet.

He lets you sob for a moment before he moves to your arms. He caresses your bicep, your delicate forearm, brushing his thumb over the fluttering blue vein beneath your skin.

“You must be wondering, will I take your arms, too? After all, you used them to claw at my door, to cling to that pitiful hunter, to fight against your rightful place…”

You shake your head frantically, begging with your eyes, but he only smiles.

He wraps his long fingers around your wrist. For a moment, he just holds you there, letting you tremble and plead, savoring every last bit of fear.

“Such a shame,” he sighs, “but if I don’t do this, how will you ever learn?”

He presses, and with a sickening, deliberate force— Snap.

The bone in your forearm gives way, jagged, nauseating. The pain lances up your arm, blinding you. You sob, hiccup, writhe helplessly on the sheets. Your body is too small, too fragile for this, and the only thing keeping you from fainting is the cold, terrifying presence of Sebastian looming over you, refusing to let you slip away.

He lifts your broken arm, inspecting the swelling and the angle, tilting your chin with his other hand. He makes you look at him—at his red eyes, at the dark delight behind the mask.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “I told you what would happen if you ran.”

He sets your arm down carefully, almost tenderly, and then, with the same methodical cruelty, takes your other wrist.

"Now, you’ll never leave me again, little one.”

Crack.

Another bolt of pain. Another bone destroyed.

By the time he is done, you are nothing but a sobbing, limp wreck on the bed, body twisted in agony. The world spins. All you know is the heat of your own tears and the relentless ache in your shattered limbs.

Sebastian wipes the tears from your cheeks, smoothing your hair as you whimper and choke on your own misery.

He leans close, voice gentle and cold. “This hurts me too, you know. But love demands sacrifice. And you… you belong to me, now and always.”

He presses a kiss to your burning forehead, his breath sweet and poisonous.

“And don’t ever forget, my precious little one—no one will ever save you from me.”

And you realize, even through the haze of pain and despair, the monster you tried to flee will always have you in his hands— and no matter how hard you cry, he will always break you until you remember your place.

[inf3ct3dd]

HARD WORK.

summary: your grandmas retirement to hawaii finally let you escape the annoying city life. but as it turns out, being a country girl aint easy work. luckily a hot stranger with a truck full of rakes and hoes has taken a liking to you.

gardener abby x black!oc

warnings: I AM A FREAK FOR GARDENER ABBY. little bit of creepy perv behavior, stalking, SEX

wc: 4.6k

authors note: heyyy guys miss u 😈 if anyone gaf i’ll post a part 2 cuz yk how i be… ts long as hell

abby noticed your presence about a week after you had moved.

she had recognized the yellow house, a familiar sight when she went on her drives to clear her head. it was certainly a sight for sore eyes. it was one of only three houses on the block, recognizable by the pale paint and the burnt orange front porch. she often wondered how the owners maintained it, as it was full of plants and trees. a big front yard with wildflowers, a cherry tree by the garage, and flower pots galore. its gorgeous. she also dreamed of what was behind the big door to the backyard, but she could see the faint sight of green trees from the top of it. its a beautiful house, no doubt. and the foliage was always kept perfect. bushes trimmed, lawn mowed, and the trees left the perfect shade for the summer time. she’d love to work there, but it seemed that the owners had it under control.

until you moved in.

after a while, she noticed the lawn becoming slightly overgrown, the bushes losing their shape, and the tree was dropping cherries all over the adorable pink slug bug in the driveway. she had taken that the original owners had moved out, but she had no idea who had replaced them. and clearly, that replacement had no idea how to tend to that house.

and then, she finally caught sight of you.

it was around about 3:30, if she remembered correctly. give or take five minutes. she was on her usual drive, exhausted and irritated from having to tell a woman that her grass would take at least a month to grow back from its butchered state. a bad raccoon problem left the entire yard torn, holes and dead yellow grass everywhere. but she had that off her mind now. she turned on her car stereo, old dad rock silencing her thoughts as she drove. the road you have to take to drive by the house is basically inside the forest. big, green trees on each side, a bumpy gravel road, and big hills. it was always a smooth ride, and the cool breeze from her window was a relief after sweating for 5 hours straight. she always hung her left arm out of the window, so much so that its slightly tanner than the other.

when she finally got to the house, she forgot everything she was thinking about. she even forgot where she was for a moment, making her stop the car.

she finally caught gaze of .. you. bent over the grass, seemingly trying to weed the garden. all she could see of you was your ass, and she wasn’t exactly complaining about the view. the denim shorts you were wearing left absolutely nothing to the imagination. along with the booty shorts, (the name very fitting), you had on a green spaghetti strap that clung to you like a wet suit. you had clearly been out there for a while, sweat pooling on the shirt and a drop sliding down the obvious cleavage in your shirt. she tried so hard to pull away, to leave you alone and not be a creep, but she couldn’t. it was like everything was moving in slow motion as she was eyeing you, and she slowly made her way up to your face after staring at your tits for an inappropriate amount of time. you had thick, black curls, that were pulled up haphazardly into a high ponytail. probably to get it out of your way while you worked. its clear you take advantage of how remote your house is, sitting in the yard looking like that. its unsafe, what if a weird freak comes over and stares at you from his truck?

abby quickly realized that she was the weird freak in question. even with the headphones in your ears, you noticed the presence behind you. you felt the rumbling of the truck through the ground, given the fact you were barefoot. you turned around to look at her, moving a curl out of your eyes and behind your ear. you raised a brow at the truck, confused. you couldn’t make out the person inside, with your glasses resting on the porch. you squinted and saw a rough image of some..blond person? you stared for a while longer, almost considering walking up to them . what’re they looking at? were you that bad at gardening?

abby was frozen the second you turned around. she definitely stared longer than she should have, not even noticing that you were staring as well. you had a confused look on your face as you squinted over at her. it was almost as if you couldn’t see her. when she thought the two of you made eye contact, she instantly started driving away. she tried to pull away slowly, to not be suspicious, but she zoomed down the road like a derby horse.

fuck. did she see me?

almost as soon as you saw the car, it drove away. they must’ve noticed you caught them and got embarrassed. who is that? you had seen a blob that sort of looked like blonde hair, but not much else. it was hard to discern anything from that, so you focused on what you did see. you felt like you had seen the car before, but then again, so many people have black pickup trucks around here. and its not like it had any significant details you’d remember it by, it was just a plain truck. not even a funny bumper sticker or something! its like the exact opposite of your car, the back of your beetle is covered in cute stickers, and you even got heart shaped rims. their car was different. it was so…rugged. whoever it is probably does some sort of hard job, like construction or something.

you shrugged off the whole thing, getting a bit too sweaty for your liking and heading inside. you wondered to yourself if they’d stop by again, maybe you should keep an eye on your window!

while you were pondering over who the mysterious figure in the truck was, the figure herself was freaking out. she couldn’t stop imagining you on that lawn, seeing your confused face and glossy pout as you stared at her. did you even realize someone was looking at you? did you feel weird and scared now? was that the absolute most pervy thing she could’ve done?? and most importantly, would you notice if she did it again? she shook the thought as soon as it came. she was practically berating herself, mumbling “don’t be weird” under her breath. she tried to think about other things. the smell of the trees lining the road. the tree in your front yard. fuck, this is difficult.

eventually, she settled on thinking about your yard. she tried not to focus on the image of you bent over in front of it, and her behind you, and she slowly remembered something. you could not garden for shit. you had missed a bunch of huge strips mowing, the bushes were lopsided, and you were knee deep in weeds. it was obvious you had no idea what you were doing, and she knew it would be so easy to fix it.

“looks like you need some help.” she uttered from behind you on the front yard, and you turned around, puzzled.

“you think so?” you stared up at her, doe eyes nearly punching her in the chest. you were still sweaty, in the same tank top.

“yeah, you look hot. let me cool you off.” and with that, she grabbed at the bottom of the shirt. “can i”-

“abby. cut it out.” she pulled herself out of the daydream, realizing she had stopped her car once again. thankfully, the road was completely empty, so she kept driving. there wasn’t anything worth staring at over here, so she kept it pushing. freak.

she tried to push whatever happened earlier to the back of her mind all day. but its like she got hypnotized. she drove up to her house, and she stupidly expected to see you in her front yard. she went inside, and she wondered what the inside of your house looked like. does she have carpet? what color are her walls?

she quickly shut down the thought of “walls” as an…untasteful image appeared in her head. she took a shower, a near freezing one, and she imagined what type of showers you like. or if you were even a shower person, maybe you liked baths. you’d probably shriek if you stepped into the shower and it was the wrong temperature. she imagined you sitting on the edge of the tub, letting the water run over your fingers until it was justtt right. she imagined you sitting down in the tub, and - nothing. she didn’t imagine anything else.

she cooked herself some pasta for dinner, and sat down on her couch to eat. do you like spaghetti? she started thinking about that scene in the lady and the tramp, except you and her replaced the dogs. once again, she shut that down right after she started. she ate her food and threw her dishes in the sink, almost running to her bedroom. because she was tired. no other reason.

you had gotten a call from your grandma a little while after you went inside. you didn’t necessarily want to talk to anyone right now, but you owed it to her after she basically gave her house to you for free. she talked for what felt like forever, about her new house, the beach, everything. and after a million “really”s and “oh wow”s, she asked you to show her the house.

you showed her around the inside first, panning around the living room, kitchen, and all the rooms, she was very satisfied with how clean you kept the house. its easy to take care of when its just you making the messes, and not an aggravating messy roomate. you felt like a lonely housewife who’s husband left for war.

afterwards, you went out into the backyard. her smiling face turned into a confused grimace within seconds.

“honey, who did the lawn?” she asked, so much concern in her voice you’d assume she just walked in on a crime scene.

“i did! doesn’t it look good?” you chimed, confused on why she sounds like you’ve just killed a man.

“…no. it looks like a hot mess. you missed like, three spots! and lord, what did you do to my bushes?” she let out a loud sigh.

“…i trimmed them?” your pride was wiped off your face, a small frown replacing it.

“i don’t even wanna see the front. you know what, you need to find a gardener. someone. as long as its not you. ill pay for it myself, just…don’t touch anything.”

“at least my plants aren’t dead and the grass is still green.” she mumbled under her breath, hanging up the phone.

where the hell are you gonna find a gardener?

with your spirits crushed, you sat with your computer and your glasses resting on your nose, “how to fix a messed up lawn” reflecting on the glass. r/lawncare said to leave it and let it re-grow before mowing it again, evenly. wait at least a week or two and keep watering it. but don’t touch it.

so, you decided to listen. the gardener hunt could wait till later, you were sleepy. you ended up dozing off on the couch watching chopped, and you had forgotten all about it by the morning.

abby however, can’t forget anything.

after a long, sleepless night, abby was running out of things to distract herself. why was she going borderline insane over some random girl? she’s seen hot girls before. were you a witch or something?

she went through her day with the same irritating questions going through her head. what does she listen to when she drives? what does she order at the coffee shop? whats her name?

she realized by the time she was on her lunch break she needed to answer at least one of her questions. she already knew where you lived, whats the harm in knowing your name?

she had slightly known your grandma, only the fact that they owned the farm that was down the road from the house. and that it was named after their last name. small town advantage, am i right?

after googling the last name, a facebook profile showed up. presumably exactly who she thought it was. she scrolled through pictures of her at the beach, on family vacation, unfunny memes,and a post that made her chuckle for a whole minute.

she knew she was in the right place now.

after scrolling for a while longer, she found exactly what she was looking for: a picture of you and the woman, your arm slung around her shoulder. you looked like you were at a wedding, all dolled up in a green satin dress with your hair down. you were wearing glasses, too.

“so she probably didn’t see me.”

you looked just as gorgeous as yesterday, and the picture was captioned “my beautiful granddaughter r ♥️💐😘🥰” and there was many more of her old lady friends and relatives calling you gorgeous. didn’t she know it.

she typed the name , your name, into facebook yet again, and there you were. the profile picture was of you as a baby, little black curls pulled into two pigtails as you grabbed at the camera with a cheesy smile. albeit, you only had two teeth, but it was definitely a smile. you’ve just always been cute, huh?

she looked down at the bio, and found everything else she needed to know. whos idea was it to make people give facebook all their personal information?

it was obvious this account was just for family, as it was mostly just reposts of your relatives posts and pictures she would deem “family friendly.” but the pictures were mostly of things other than you, like cats and pretty buildings you saw. it gave off the perfect, innocent impression to anyone who’d come across it.

but after finding your facebook, it didn’t take her much longer to find your instagram. and your tiktok. and your tumblr from when you were in highschool? maybe she was digging a little too deep.

your instagram wasn’t that stark of a contrast to your facebook. add a little more cleavage, and a much more active..social life, and it was basically the same. you hadn’t posted much with your friends in a while though, only stills of your plane and you relaxing in your new home. tough time making friends over here?

she snooped even more into your following, and at first there wasn’t anything really interesting. some music artists you liked, random cat accounts, and baking accounts. cute. but, after a while, she recognized something. the name of the place you worked at that she saw on your facebook. a veterinary office. the profile mostly had pictures of cats and dogs and some smaller animals, but when she saw a post about the offices pet fundraiser, she immediately recognized your face. cheesy smile, holding up a small kitten to your cheek. it was adorable.

she looked up the address in the account’s bio, and she saw that it was a 5 minute drive from her house. perfect coincidence. alice would love to take a walk after work today, wouldn’t she?

her snooping was interrupted by the alarm she had set for the end of her break. startled, she slightly jumped out of her seat before swinging her door open and plopping her phone in her back pocket. she knew what her plans for this afternoon were.

while abby was scheming up her stalkerish plans, you were just.. bored. you sat at the front desk, doodling one of the dogs you saw come in earlier with one earbud in your ear, fleetwood mac giving you soft background music to the emptiness of the lobby. with it being tuesday and all, it wasn’t very busy. your shift didn’t end for a few hours though, and you would rather be bored than busy.

you decided to people watch outside the window for a bit. you saw an old lady walking around with another old lady, holding coffee cups from the cafe down the street. they were engrossed in conversation, and you tried to lip read, but could only make up a few nonsensical words before they disappeared out of your view. a man walked by with his disgruntled teen daughter, headphones pulled over her ears with an annoyed grimace. once again, it looked like the father was saying something, but you had no idea what.

after a few more people walked past, you saw someone who actually…caught your eye. it was a tall blonde woman, hair weaved neatly into a braid that rested on her right shoulder. she had on a black tshirt that showed of her toned arms, and grey cargo pants with green grass stains on them. you tried to glance at her face, but she was facing the side. all you could really see was the outline of her curved nose, and the soft shape of her lips. her side profile looked perfectly carved, like a statue. she had on black over the ear headphones too, and she was holding a leash to a big german shepherd. shes hot, and she has a dog? you subconsciously started fixing your hair, just in case she was walking in here. she stopped near the door, and you nearly pounced to greet her. but your excitement was cut short when you saw her walk slightly further, and pull out a small stack of papers and a roll of tape. was she putting up fliers?

you watched her place one on the light post outside your building, holding the tape in her mouth as she did so. you tried hard not to drool all over your desk as you watched her. you couldnt make out what the paper said as she walked away, and you wasted no time going outside to see what it was.

and when you finally approached it, you felt as god himself was giving you an offering. the flier read "abby anderson gardening services.” there was a small graphic of a pretty flower, and an even more captivating image of the woman who had put up the flier. abby, that’s a sweet name.

you quickly ripped off one of the small pieces of paper on the bottom of the flier, placing it in your sweater pocket before skipping back into your work gleefully. a hot girl who was gonna save you from your gardening dilemma? somebody pinch you.

abby hadn’t had the smallest confidence her plan had worked. her heart was practically beating out of her chest, and the questions kept on pouring in. did she even see? will she even notice? what if she did see, and she recognized me as the freak who was ogling her outside her house? she planned all this perfectly. she spent 3 hours last night making those stupid fliers. scrolling through a million different fonts, searching through her camera roll for good pictures, she needed it to be as believable as possible. she had parked her truck well out of view a few blocks away, carried extra fliers, and brought alice with her to try and hide her true intentions. normal gardener walking her dog and putting up fliers, thats all she was. definitely not a weirdo that saw a girl pruning her front yard and got so hot and bothered that she devised a whole plan that would maybe get her to call her.

she shook her head, practically trying to shake away her thoughts, and she kept on walking.

you were telling yourself that you’d call her right when you got off work.

and after sitting on your bed for 5 minutes staring at her number typed into your phone, it was tomorrow.

and then tomorrow, it was the day after that.

the fear made absolutely no sense to you. you’re calling a gardener! whats the worst shes gonna say? ‘oh no, im not gardening for you because you’re stupid and also im going to run you over with my lawn mower.’ its her job to do this!! you had even saved her number in your phone as “hot gardener” so you wouldn’t forget her.

you were silently hoping that youd see her around somewhere. she’d approach you, start some dumb conversation, suddenly bring up the fact that shes a gardener, and then you get your “really? i’ve been looking for one!” moment. perfect meet cute.

but its like she vanished into thin air.

every time you went to work, or even out shopping, you were dolled up for no reason. wearing shirts with extra cleavage, making sure you have on lipgloss constantly, you were not taking any chances. even when you were doing the most mundane activities, you swiped on a layer of mascara before you left the house. just in case. but your luck wasn’t striking you at all. does she not live in the neighborhood?

abby definitely lived in the neighborhood. after checking her flier and seeing a missing phone number, she spent the whole night waiting for her phone to ring. she did anything and everything to try and keep her busy, which included cleaning her entire apartment and stalking your instagram. you had posted a picture of your cat on your story. cute.

after almost 5 hours of waiting around, she was pacing around her living room like a tiger in captivity. every notification she got she pounced at her phone, but she was continuously disappointed. no manny, i don’t want to go out tonight. dont ever text my phone again and also i hate you.

it was around 12:45 when her phone finally rang. she picked up instantly, barely letting it ring. she cleared her throat and tried to feign nonchalance in her voice. but instead of your sweet voice asking about her lawn, it was a telemarketer. she threw her phone on the couch and collapsed on her floor. it was gonna be a long night..

the next day, she knew she needed to check on you. what if something had happened? or, worse, what if you weren’t even the one who took the phone number? she came back the same way she did the first time she saw you, driving a liiiittle too slow past the vet office. and low and behold, you were perfectly fine. sat at the front desk talking to some girl with a cat. and when she looked at the flier, there was still only one slip missing. maybe you forgot?

she drove away, a childish pout on her face. it was pathetic , really.

when she was at the grocery store on the second day of waiting , that she definitely didn’t drive an extra five minutes to because it was close to you, she nearly had a heart attack when she saw you in the cereal aisle. cute hoodie and shorts on with your hair down. you seemed like you were having a hard time deciding between two cereals, holding the boxes next to each other and squinting. she imagined herself going up to you and delivering some smooth one liner about cereal that she was still trying to come up with, and carrying your groceries and you to your car. but as much as she wanted to, she kept her distance. heavily. she was looking around every five minutes like a shoplifter so she wouldn’t bump into you.

but not touching didn’t mean she couldn’t look. she saw you finally chuck the fruity pebbles into your basket, squeeze half the mangos on the display before picking one, and you last minute deciding to buy a pack of gum when you were checking out. she tried her hardest to not be jealous of the scrawny bag boy you smiled at, and when she finally saw you check out, she remembered she was supposed to be getting stuff for dinner. shit.

and the day after that, when she stopped at the gas station by your street because it was ‘cheaper’, she recognized your beetle in two seconds. she watched you step into the little mini market, clad in a pair of jean shorts and a random t shirt from a theme park , and she watched you walk out with a bag of hot cheetos as she pumped her gas. she had gotten a closer look at your bumper stickers, and she saw a small heart with a sunset flag. she couldn’t help but do a little fist pump when she got in her car.

none of her research was giving her any clarity though. she kept driving past her flier, day after day, and not a single other person had picked up a slip. was it even you who took it? are you gonna hire some other stupid gardener you found on your phone?

and on the third day, she had stayed home. she was beginning to give up hope you’d ever call, and she would never make a move first. especially if you had accidentally seen her on one of her little ventures. so, she cleaned her house again. she even dusted, thats how bored she was. the thoughts of you were constantly plaguing her. she almost took up mannys offer to go out tonight, try and get her mind off things.

but her mind stayed in the exact same place. her mind replayed the memory of you in the lawn yet again. she remembered the sweat dripping down your chest, the way your shorts were riding right up your thighs. she shoved her hand down her pants and imagined that they were yours.

she remembered how nice and smooth your voice sounded on the videos she saw. even though you never said much, even her imagining it made her even wetter. she kept rubbing her middle finger up and down her clit, picturing you whispering in her ear.

“you’re such a fucking creep. you keep watching me at work, following me around, and now you’re fucking yourself to me? we’ve never even met. you’re acting like a desperate slut for some random girl, you’re not embarrassed?”

the dialogue she was imagining in her head was getting her further and further. she almost imagined you saying it, the voice being strange and inconsistent to her. still, she moved faster, hearing the noise her slick covered fingers made as she moved. she kept letting out heavy breaths, flexing her hips upwards onto her hand.

“you know, you could’ve just come up to talk to me. how pathetic are you? can’t even talk to a girl?”

she imagined your breath on her neck, watching her. if she focused enough, she could feel the indent in her bed of you next to her. she started moving even faster, letting out loud moans as she pressed down on her clit even harder. she arched her back as she did, pushing her head against her headboard. she could feel the pressure building in her lower stomach, and she was practically humping her hand. she got sweatier and sweatier, the blanket covering her lower half not making it any better.

“are you really this desperate? you could-“

abbys fantasy was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing next to her. right when she was close. fuck. she nearly abandoned the phone call, but then the thought crossed her hazy mind. what if it was you?

so she wiped her hands on her boxers , took a deep breath, and answered her phone.

she tried not to get her hopes up, worried it might be another telemarketer. annoyed at the fact that she gave up cumming for some random person.

“hello? is this..-abby?”

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Kitten | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You want a new kitten, but Bucky doesn't.. So you get a new kitten.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

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Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

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"We are not getting a kitten."

You pout, "Bucky, please." You swipe through the adoption photos of kittens at your local shelter, "Look at them, they are so cute!"

"Yeah well they aren't cute when you have to clean up after them and they claw at your furniture." He says getting off the couch, trying to separate himself from this conversation. He knows he has a weakness. He's not a fan of telling you no. But this? A kitten? He thinks he could. He wasn't a fan of cats.

You immediately hop off the couch and follow him, "I'll keep their nails trimmed. We will get plenty of cat trees and scratching posts so it won't claw at the furniture! Come on Bucky, please?" Your bottom lip pops out in a pout.

He turns to face you and groans at the sight, "Doll, come on. Don't pull the pout. We just got settled into our apartment. Don't you want to enjoy it before adding new additions?"

You continue to pout, holding the phone out to him, "Look at his little face. He's so cute!"

He sighs, obliging to take the phone and look at the photo, "He's just going to grow up to be this fat house cat. He won't stay little for long."

"He'll be fat, happy and loved."

"What am I going to do with you?" He questions and can't help but smile as he cups your cheeks, "You're my weakness. I can't say no to you."

You smile in victory knowing you've probably won, "I'm irresistible."

His smile doesn't falter, "On this though? I'm gonna have to say no. No kitten."

~

~

"Oh Bucky look how cute he is!"

Bucky has his grumpy face on as you hand him the kitten. It looks so small against his large chest. "Yes, yes so cute," He grumbles, but cradles the kitten against him, giving it a little pet. The kitten purrs and rubs its face against Bucky's chin. He can't help but feel the ice melting away. It was pretty cute.

You two walked out of the shelter with the kitten.

Later that evening, you three are cuddled on the couch. The tiny orange kitten that Bucky didn't want, but was winning him over, curled up on Bucky's chest and you were curled against his side.

You reach over and pet the small kitten, "He seems to like you."

Bucky tilts his head down to look at the kitten, petting his head with his finger, "He's growing on me."

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. Comments, likes and reblogs always appreciated and welcomed! x

[jxerv]

obito x fem!reader, canon universe, fluff-angst, part 2

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IT WAS late at night, and the silence seemed to wrap everything in a thick blanket.

[Y/n]'s house was immersed in a fragile quiet—the kind of silence that sometimes feels heavier than noise. The wind brushed against the walls, gently moving the balcony curtains. A pale, cold light—reflected from the moon—entered the room through the half-open window.

[Y/n] was sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a light blanket over her knees. In her hands, she held an old photo, the edges slightly yellowed and worn with time. Her fingers slowly traced the border, outlining faces all too familiar.

Four faces. Four kids.

Obito, Kakashi, Rin, and herself.

[Y/n] smiled faintly, but the smile faded the moment her gaze landed on Obito's grinning face.

Her heart gave a small jolt.

He looked so happy in that picture. Carefree, with that wide, innocent smile, and the usual blush that colored his cheeks every time she got too close.

"What a fool you were..." she whispered, almost speaking to the thin glass of the photo.

A bitter tightness gripped her chest. The pain wasn't as sharp as it once was, but had transformed into something more insidious. A constant nostalgia, a longing that clung to her days. Even after all this time.

She gently pressed her fingertips to his image in the photo, as if she could touch him one more time.

"You were supposed to be here..." she murmured. Her gaze drifted to the moonlit window.

Then.

A sound.

Soft, almost imperceptible. A light thud, like something barely touching the floor.

[Y/n]'s senses snapped to attention.

She quickly set the photo down on the couch and stood. Her heart beat faster, but her breathing remained steady, controlled. She tiptoed toward the balcony, her eyes alert. She opened the glass door with a fluid, silent motion, ready for anything.

The balcony was empty.

Only the full moon hanging in the dark sky, the branches of the trees swaying slowly, and the distant sound of the wind. [Y/n] clenched her jaw, eyes scanning for the slightest movement.

Nothing.

She slowly lowered her guard. Her breath escaped in a thin sigh. "Must've imagined it..." she muttered to herself.

Then she turned.

And saw him.

A shadow stood in the middle of the living room. Tall, unmoving, silent. A black cloak trimmed with red clouds. An orange spiral-patterned mask.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She jumped back instinctively, falling into a fighting stance. Hands clenched, feet grounded, eyes locked on the intruder.

"You...!" she hissed. Her tone wasn't fearful, but sharp with tension. A challenge.

The man didn't move.

He laughed. A low, rough laugh.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Hard to believe." she shot back, her voice sharp as a kunai.

She studied him carefully, searching for a weapon, an object—anything she could use to fight. But everything was too far, too risky.

She had no choice but to face him with what she had.

She lunged.

Her fist sliced through the air, aiming for the masked man's face.

He caught it with a single hand.

Steady, firm. As if her blow had the weight of a child's.

[Y/n] gritted her teeth and threw another punch. Then another. Kicks, blows, pushes. But nothing. He stood still, blocking every strike like it was a game.

"Let me hit you!" she growled, trying again.

Instead, he grabbed her wrists—not too tightly. Just enough to stop her.

"I don't remember you being this stubborn." he said softly, almost amused. But there was something in his voice—a note of melancholy, like he was talking to a ghost.

[Y/n] stopped fighting. Her breath was heavy, hands still clenched. "What?" she asked, confused.

His words struck deeper than any blow.

She stepped back, free, and stared at him with a hardened expression. "Who are you?" she said, voice tense, eyes fixed on his covered face.

The silence that followed was almost unbearable.

The man didn't answer right away. Instead, he slowly raised a hand to his mask. A controlled, slow, almost solemn gesture.

His laughter faded.

Silence turned into a buzzing in [Y/n]'s chest as she watched him place his fingers on the edge of the orange mask.

Slowly, he lifted it.

[Y/n] held her breath.

The moment the orange mask was raised and set aside, an unreal silence fell over the room. Time itself seemed to stop, as if even the universe needed a moment to comprehend what was happening.

The face that appeared before her was not just anyone's. Not an enemy, not a stranger.

It was a face she had never forgotten.

Obito.

Her Obito.

Brown eyes, slightly darker now, but still able to reflect an entire galaxy of emotions. Black hair, a little longer than she remembered, tousled just like before. His lips were pressed into an expression that hovered between disbelief and stifled emotion.

A large scar ran across his face, right over the eye of his Sharingan.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Her blood froze in her veins—then rushed back in a flood, like a river overflowing. A crushing weight slammed into her chest, as if all the certainties she had built over time had crumbled right in front of her eyes.

Her heart stuttered. Once, twice—then seemed to stop.

Her legs trembled. An unexpected emptiness opened beneath her feet. The floor seemed to fall away, becoming liquid, distant, unreal.

The world blurred, distorted, faded.

She fell.

Or rather, she was about to fall.

But before her body could hit the cold floor of the house, two arms caught her with firm resolve. Strong, familiar arms.

Obito had moved in a flash, as if instinct had taken over. As if his body knew he couldn't let her fall. Not yet. Not again.

She found herself wrapped in his embrace, her face inches from the one she had seen only in dreams for years.

[Y/n]'s eyes widened, overflowing with emotion. She stared at him, frozen, unable to speak. To think. To breathe.

She tried to rationalize.

This can't be real. It's impossible.

And yet, he was there. Real. Tangible. His skin held the warmth of the living. His eyes... oh, those eyes.

Her breathing was erratic, her chest rising and falling in desperate search of air. Her lips trembled as she tried to form something. A word. A name.

Then she said it. A whisper. Barely a breath: "Obito..."

The sound of his name, spoken in that voice, shook him to his core.

He hadn't expected it. He hadn't expected that just his name, said with such tenderness, could tear through the walls he had built over years of hatred, rage, and solitude.

Obito's heart clenched, pounding violently. One beat after another. It felt like a fire had been lit in his chest. For a moment, he forgot everything. The plans, the revenge, the Akatsuki, Madara, the world.

There were only the two of them, in that room, under the cold light of the moon.

She slowly raised a hand.

It trembled, but didn't stop. Her fingers touched his face, as light as a feather. They glided gently along his cheek, tracing invisible lines, as if seeking confirmation that he was really there.

Obito closed his eyes. He didn't pull away. He didn't stop her.

That touch... it was the first kind thing he had felt in years. His skin burned under her fingers, as if he were becoming aware of his own humanity again in that moment. As if, until then, he had been only a shadow—and now... now he was flesh and blood once more.

[Y/n] lowered her hand, still in disbelief. Tears streamed down her face without her even realizing it. Warm, silent, pure.

"You're... you're alive?" she asked, her voice breaking, as if her heart was afraid to believe it. Afraid that this was just a dream—and that he'd vanish again when she woke.

Obito didn't answer right away. He looked at her. There, in his arms, with wet cheeks and eyes overflowing with emotion.

The pain of years reflected in her gaze. The pain of a loss she had never truly accepted. And seeing her like that, he felt a deep, gut-wrenching guilt. Like a blade twisting in his chest.

"I came back." he finally whispered, his voice hoarse, broken. "Even if... not in the right way."

[Y/n]'s face twisted into a painful grimace. "Why?" she asked, her voice a mixture of anger and desperation. "Why didn't you come back sooner? Why did you let everyone believe you were dead? Let me believe you were dead?"

Obito lowered his gaze.

He didn't know how to answer. Or rather—he did.

But how do you explain the darkness?

How do you describe the kind of pain that changes you until you don't recognize yourself anymore?

"I thought you were dead." His words were a broken whisper. "That day... I saw you. You were lying over Rin. I thought... I thought you died protecting Kakashi. And when I lost you all..." He paused, jaw tightening. "I lost myself."

[Y/n] said nothing. She looked at him, searching for the boy she once knew beneath the war-hardened face shaped by time and pain.

And she found him.

In his eyes—he was still there.

The boy who blushed every time he looked at her. The one who trained with stubborn dedication, who laughed loud, who dreamed of becoming Hokage.

[Y/n]'s hand returned to his cheek. She caressed him again, this time more firmly. "Obito..." she whispered. "Is it really you?"

He closed his eyes, leaning his head slightly into her palm. Like a tired child, starved for affection.

In that moment, he wasn't a member of the Akatsuki. He wasn't a traitor, nor a ghost of the past.

He was just Obito. Her Obito.

And she... was there. Real.

The silence between them hung heavy, almost tangible, like a fog wrapping around every corner of the room. And yet, in their eyes, a silent storm raged—an ocean of emotions hidden behind steady gazes.

Obito studied [Y/n]'s face as if he wanted to memorize every detail, to imprint her features into every fiber of his being. There was something different about her now—a quiet strength, a melancholy etched into her expression, an invisible shadow lingering in her smile. But her eyes... her eyes were the same: deep, alive, full of the light he remembered.

With a slowness that felt almost reverent, Obito lifted his hand and gently brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered longer than they needed to, as if afraid that even the softest touch might make her disappear.

For a moment, his face softened.

The pain, the anger, the despair—all of it seemed to quiet, even if just for that brief instant.

Obito's arm tightened around [Y/n]'s waist, pulling her closer to him. He needed to feel her. The warmth of her body, the undeniable reality of her presence—It was the only thing anchoring him to what was left of his humanity.

[Y/n] didn't pull away. Her eyes were locked on his, filled with unspoken questions, with answers lost in time and pain. But there was something else, too—something deeper... a bond that neither time, nor death, nor war had been able to break.

And in that moment, without thinking, without hesitation or words, Obito leaned in and kissed her.

Their lips—lips that had searched for each other for years—finally met.

It was a full kiss. Raw. Fractured.

A kiss that spoke of lost years, of tear-filled nights and broken dreams. A kiss that carried the weight of everything that had been lost, and all that had been sacrificed.

[Y/n] froze, shocked—but she didn't pull away. Her heart pounded wildly, too loudly. Her hands trembled, but didn't move. It was as if time had truly stopped.

Obito kissed her like his life depended on it.

As if his entire existence was contained in that one, fragile connection.

And maybe, for him, it was.

When they finally parted, it was only for air.

But Obito didn't move far—he followed her movement, lips still reaching for hers as though drawn by a force he couldn't resist.

[Y/n]'s heart was in chaos. Her breath was shaky, and her face flushed—not just from the intensity of the moment, but because something deeper had begun to resurface in her thoughts.

Memories.

Truths.

Her expression changed.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Rationality broke through, cutting through the storm of emotions. She stepped back—an inch, then another. She looked at him, searching for an answer. Searching... for the truth.

"You... you're part of the Akatsuki." she whispered, as if the very words burned her tongue. "You attacked Kakashi's team. You... hurt my comrades. Obito, why?"

His face slowly dimmed.

The warmth faded, replaced by a quiet, controlled coldness—but not hostility. It was as if an invisible mask had returned to his features once more.

"Because this world is rotten, [Y/n]." His voice was calm, deep. "Because every system we've ever known is built on suffering. Because everyone we love ends up dying for something meaningless."

[Y/n] stared at him, eyes glistening. "And what do you do? Kill innocents to create a 'better' world? Is that your idea of justice?"

"Not justice." he replied, his eyes burning. "Peace."

His words fell like stones.

Obito stood, pulling [Y/n] up with him. "You don't have to worry about anything. You don't have to carry the weight of all this. I... I just want you to be safe. With me."

[Y/n] shook her head, in disbelief.

"With you? In this delusion?"

Obito reached out, gently caressing her face again, ignoring the fury burning in her eyes. "You don't have to fight. You don't have to choose. I'll do it for you. Just come with me. I'll protect you. I promise you'll never suffer again."

"I can't." she cut in, voice cracking. "I can't close my eyes while you destroy everything others fought for. I can't... follow you."

For the first time since he entered, Obito's eyes darkened. Pained.

A shadow passed across his face, as if a piece of him had just shattered.

"I'm sorry, [Y/n]," he murmured.

Then, his Sharingan flared to life—red as blood. Alive, terrible, brilliant.

In an instant, [Y/n] staggered. Her muscles gave out. Her eyes dulled. She tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Her body went limp, weightless—And before she could hit the floor, she was once again in his arms.

Obito held her tightly.

His face twisted with pain—A deep crack in the wall he'd tried to keep standing for too long.

He looked at her as she slept peacefully against his chest, her face relaxed, unaware. He brushed her cheek lightly with his fingertips.

"I'm doing this for you." he whispered, voice tight with emotion. "Because this world doesn't deserve you. But I do."

And with one last glance at the moon shining through the window,

Obito vanished into the night, carrying her away with him.

wc: 2592

[jerirose]

Davrin ❣️ Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

[Image Description] Digital realism painting of Davrin, the Grey Warden, Elf companion from Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Davrin is painted, portrait, from the chest up, standing outside, on a sunny day. The background is a blur of trees and bushes off in the near distance. The sunlight casts down from the left top of the image (cast from behind, rather than in front) making parts of Davrin's armour shine and casting a soft glow on the left side of his face. Davrin's brown skin has a warm ochre undertone, his dark brown eyes looking off into the distance to the left, he has long pointed ears and short, dark brown hair with tapered sides, his curls backlit by the sun. On the left side of his face there is long scar from the top of his forehead down just pass his eye, to the top of his cheek bone, this goes through his forehead tattoo which is a swirled design that tapers in at the bridge of his nose. Davrin also has another face tattoo that goes from just under his bottom lip down over his chin to his jaw in a triangle shape. His face is peppered with small star freckles, these are accompanied by larger semi-opaque yellow stars that are scattered across his cheeks, neck and exposed parts of his chest, in a gradient to a dark orange. Davrin is wearing his base Grey Warden armour - a white shirt with a low V-neck cut, that has a thick, bright orange trim. Across his chest there's a light brown leather strap that connects his outer coat / cloak together, this cloak has a large, stiff collar, which is two tone blue strips, with a cream / off-white loose sleeve. His shoulders have two different leather shoulder pads, that are also light brown; the left having a metal cap at the top and the right has carved details in it and is longer a shoulder pad that covers his bicep.

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Vine Between Us (6)

Summary

Annie left the Mississippi Delta with a broken heart and a full-ride scholarship, determined never to look back. Now a celebrated professor in Chicago, she’s called home to care for her mother—and the last thing she expects is to run straight into him.

Elijah "Smoke". Her first love. Her first everything.

He disappeared the summer after graduation, leaving only unanswered calls and a goodbye she never got. Now he's back in town, running a moody, magnetic blues lounge with his twin brother, playing late into the humid Southern nights like he’s pouring his soul out just for her.

Annie wants to hate him. She wants to forget the way he made her feel. But one look from those stormy eyes, and she’s seventeen again—burning, aching, and lost in the man he’s become.

He left without a word. But now? He wants to finish the story they never got to end.

Characters: Annie x Elijah " Smoke" Moore (Modern AU)

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Mention of Abuse, Vulgar Language, Sexual content & more...

NOT EDITED

The trail curved through an open stretch of Jericho's farm, golden with soft wheatgrass and dotted with peach trees whose fruit glowed like tiny lanterns in the setting sun. The sky burned orange and lavender, streaks of dying light flickering against the wide Mississippi Delta. Crickets began their song as the air thickened into evening.

Smoke and Annie rode side by side, their horses walking in a slow, rhythmic stride. The leather of the saddles creaked gently beneath them. Smoke sat upright, his broad shoulders back, the sun catching the clean line of his low-cut fade and trim beard. His white-trim shirt was rolled at the sleeves, his watch glinting against his forearm as he rested one hand casually on the reins. He was the picture of quiet confidence. Cool. In control. Present.

And Annie couldn’t stop looking at him.

She glanced sideways, her gaze trailing over his outfit. The dark denim jeans sat just right on his hips, and those tan boots somehow made him look even taller in the saddle. He smelled like leather, wood smoke, and something warm. Something masculine. That scent alone made her thighs clench a little tighter against the horse.

She shouldn’t be this turned on.

It had been years since they’d been face to face. Years since she’d seen the boy who she shared kisses inside the greenhouse , who left without a word. That hurt still pulsed in her chest years later. Yet, here he was, riding beside her like the space between them never existed.

He spoke, pulling her back to the moment. “You always liked the quiet, didn’t you?”

She blinked. “What?”

“When we were younger. You used to sit under that peach tree with your books and just be.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “I liked the way the wind sounded in the leaves.”

“Still do?”

She looked around. At the trees. The rows of vegetables. The chirp of crickets and the hum of summer heat. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but yeah. She still did.

“It’s peaceful out here,” she said finally. “Not something I get much of in Chicago.”

Smoke nodded, his voice softer. “I remembered that. That’s why I brought you here.”

Her eyes flicked to his, and she couldn’t look away fast enough. God, she had forgotten how he made her feel like she was suffocating and floating all at once.

“You always remembered things like that,” she muttered, quieter now. “I just wish you remembered to say goodbye.”

The silence between them thickened like the dusk.

Smoke exhaled through his nose. “I wanted to. I just... couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because if I saw you, I wouldn’t have left.”

Her throat tightened.

“Things were bad, Annie. Real bad. I know Stack wrote you. He told you what happened.”

“Yeah,” she replied, blinking fast. “He did. He told me you and your father got into a bad fight.”

Smoke swallowed. His jaw ticked. “That wasn’t even the worst of it.”

Annie shook her head slowly. “You should’ve told me how bad it was getting. You left me... wondering if I wasn’t enough to stay for.”

Smoke reined in his horse a little, making them stop under a wild dogwood tree. The sunset framed his face in amber and shadow.

“You were too much to stay for,” he said.

Annie’s breath caught. She looked away, jaw clenched, fighting the emotions clawing their way up her throat. She’d spent years burying this part of herself. Hardened it with logic. Built walls high and wide.

But now, sitting beside him, her heart betrayed her.

I want to forgive you, she thought. I want to believe you came back because you see me again. Because you miss me. Because it wasn’t just some teenage fling.

She didn’t say any of that. She just placed her hand gently back on the reins.

Smoke leaned a little closer. “Give me a chance to know the woman you became.”

Annie didn’t answer.

But she didn’t pull away either.

She caught herself glancing at him again.

The way the setting sun kissed the edge of his trim beard. His full lips. That deep, thoughtful silence he wore like cologne.

Damn.

He was fine.

And worse? He knew he was fine. He just didn’t care to prove it to anybody. That made it harder to resist.

“You alright over there?” Smoke asked, voice smooth, catching her mid-glance.

She straightened slightly. “Mmhmm. Just takin’ in the view.”

“You mean the land or me?”

She shot him a look, but her lips curled despite herself. “You ain’t that much to look at.”

“Funny,” he said with a smirk. “You been starin’ like I grew wings.”

She rolled her eyes, heat creeping up her chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Elijah.”

But that name—his real name—coming from her mouth did something to him. He leaned slightly in the saddle, enough to make the moment intimate without being pushy.

“You used to call me Elijah when you needed me,” he said softly.

“I used to do a lot of things,” she replied, not looking at him.

Silence stretched again, tension pulling taut like a wire between them. Her heartbeat thundered beneath her cool exterior.

Smoke exhaled, watching her closely. “I ain’t expectin’ you to forgive me tonight. Hell, I don’t know if you ever will. But I want you to know… I hated leavin’ like that. Hated it every day.”

Annie didn’t answer right away.

Instead, her eyes stayed fixed on the trail ahead. The quiet hum of frogs and wind settled around them like a blanket. The ache in her chest had been there since eighteen. She’d buried it under books, jobs, city noise, and other lovers' hands. But nothing ever soothed it the way Smoke’s voice stirred it.

Why now? Why is he still the one?

She cleared her throat. “You didn’t just leave, Elijah. You vanished. One day we’re making love in the back of your truck, talkin’ about the future… and the next I’m wondering if you’re even alive.”

Smoke looked at her, his eyes darker now with remorse The last sliver of sun dipped behind the trees, casting everything in a muted orange glow that flickered like flame over his skin.

“I was scared,” he admitted, voice thick. “Scared of what I was gonna become if I stayed. Scared of what I’d do to him. Scared that one day you’d look at me and see him in me."

Annie stunned, caught off guard by the confession. Elijah was a person who didn't like to express his emotions as Annie could remember. When they were together it was like pulling teeth to get him to open to her. He always wanted to have it altogether, but Annie knew Smoke could not express his grievances well. So hearing him say he was scared was so new to her.

“I wanted to write,” he said, quieter now. “Call. Reach out. But I didn’t know how to explain what I couldn’t even face myself.”

She sighed, eyes softening despite herself. “Stack did it with no problem. He found a way.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, a humorless smile tugging his lips. “Stack always been better at sayin’ the hard things.”

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t heavy this time. It felt like peeling something back. Airing out an old wound that had finally stopped bleeding, but still burned in the memory.

“I regret it,” he said suddenly, voice hoarse.

Annie slowly turning toward him.

“That night,” he continued, his fingers loosely laced between reins. “Our first time. I regret makin’ love to you… and then leavin’ you like I did.”

Her breath caught.

Smoke didn’t look at her. Couldn’t yet. “It wasn’t just sex to me. It wasn’t some... last-minute teenage thrill. I loved you. I still do. But I was a coward, Annie. A damn coward. I left without a word, without explainin’, and I know what that probably made you feel. Like I used you.”

Annie stayed quiet, her chest rising and falling with a quiet tremble.

“I see it in your face even now. The hurt. The confusion. I gave you all that… and I walked away like it didn’t mean nothin’.” He finally turned to her, his voice rough, eyes burning. “But it meant everything to me. I just didn’t know how to stay. Not with everything boilin’ over back home. I thought I was protectin’ you from my mess. But all I did was break you in the process.”

Annie stared at him, her throat tight. Then quietly, like peeling off a scab that never fully healed, she whispered, “You made me feel disposable.”

Smoke flinched.

“I thought maybe I was just another girl you checked off your list before you shipped out,” she said, bitterness bleeding into the softness of her tone. “I laid there after you left, wondering if it was all in my head. If I dreamed the way you touched me.”

Smoke turned fully to her now, one hand reaching gently toward her wrist.

“You weren’t disposable. You were it. The only one I ever wanted.” His voice cracked slightly. “And it kills me that I let you think different.”

She didn’t pull her hand away, but she didn’t hold his either.

“You left me with questions I had to bury,” she stated. “Because the answers would’ve made me hate you.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you,” he murmured.

They sat in the quiet, the wind brushing against their skin like a memory, the scent of honeysuckle weaving around them like the past they were still unpacking.

Annie exhaled deeply, staring at the fading skyline. “You hurt me, Elijah. Deep.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And I’ll spend as long as it takes makin’ it right.”

She finally looked at him again, eyes glossy, guarded, but not closed.

Annie finally turned to look at him, her voice soft but strong. “I don’t hate you. I just… I was hurt. For a long time.”

“I know,” he said again. “And I’m sorry, Annie. I swear to God, if I could take it back—”

“You can’t.”

Her words stopped him cold.

“But,” she added, quieter, “You’re here now. You showed up.”

He watched her, his expression unreadable.

“I’m here,” he whispered.

The horses slowed to a stop near a quiet pond nestled between a thicket of cypress trees and a patch of wildflowers. The water shimmered like glass, catching the last of the sun’s golden rays as it dipped low into the tree line. A soft breeze swept through, carrying the sweet scent of magnolia and pine, brushing Annie’s curls and the hem of her halter top.

Smoke slid off his horse first, grounding himself with practiced ease. He reached for Annie’s reins and stepped beside her mount.

“Need help down?”

“I’m not helpless,” she said, raising a brow—but her voice held more warmth than bite.

“I ain’t say you was,” he said, offering his hand anyway.

She hesitated, then took it.

His fingers wrapped around hers steady, warm, familiar and she swore the grip lingered just a second too long as he helped guide her to the ground.

They stood close for a beat too long, caught in the quiet of the world around them, the chorus of bullfrogs and rustling grass singing a song neither of them knew the words to anymore.

Annie glanced at the water, then back at Smoke. “Why we stoppin’?”

He looked out over the still pond, the sun stretching its last orange kiss across the horizon, lighting the tips of the cypress trees with a soft, golden glow.

“Because,” he said, voice low, “this is the best time to watch the sunset.”

Something in his tone made her chest tighten. It wasn’t just about the view. It was about them. This moment. The stillness they hadn’t had in years.

He nodded toward the pond. “Come on.”

They walked side by side, boots crunching over the soft earth. Smoke led her to a flat rock near the water’s edge where they could sit and watch the sunset ripple across the glassy surface. The colors were breathtaking. Soft pinks melting into orange, gold streaking the sky like beautiful brushstrokes. A few fireflies blinked to life nearby.

Annie sat first, tugging her shorts down slightly and crossing her legs. Smoke settled beside her, resting his arms on his knees, glancing at her with a half-smile.

“Peaceful ain’t it.” he said.

“I like peace,” she muttered.

He nodded. “You always looked at the sky like it was talkin’ to you.”

She smiled a little. “Maybe it is.”

Silence again, but this one was more softer. More open.

Smoke turned to her, the sun kissing the strong line of his jaw. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Only if I can ask you somethin’ after.”

“Deal,” he said.

He hesitated, then asked, “What made you leave Chicago and come back here?”

He leaned back on his hands, giving her room, letting her sit with it.

Then she spoke, her voice lower, more thoughtful. “I came back because of Mama. She’s gettin’ older, and with Daddy gone... it’s just her now. I can’t be up in Chicago forever like she don’t need me.”

Smoke’s jaw tensed. He looked out toward the trees, then back at her. “I ain’t know he passed that long ago” he said softly. “I... I wasn’t here at that time.”

Annie didn’t look at him right away. “You weren’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She nodded again, slower this time. “He died when I was twenty-two. Stroke. Quick. He was gone before I made it home.”

Silence fell between them, thick with sorrow and years of distance.

“That man..,” Smoke said after a long beat. “Mr. Baptiste... he was a good man.”

Annie smiled faintly, blinking at the water. “He was my whole world.”

“You was his too,” Smoke said. “The way he looked at you—like you was the best thing he ever did. Made me wanna be like that one day. The way he took care of your mama, the house, y’all garden... I used to sit on that porch and just watch him fix things.”

She turned to him now, surprised.

“He caught me once,” Smoke reminiscing with a slight smile. “Starin’. Thought I was bein’ nosy. But he ain’t fuss. Just called me over and said, ‘If you gone watch, you might as well learn.’ Taught me how to fix a carburetor before I even knew what a carburetor was.”

Annie whispered in shocked. “He never told me that.”

The cicadas had quieted now, replaced by the hush of evening settling like dust on the Delta. The sun was nearly gone, streaking the pond’s surface in faint gold and pale blue. The world felt still, heavy, and waiting.

Smoke exhaled, hand resting on his thigh, the folded cloth forgotten in his lap.

“He taught me more than I could say,” Smoke added, voice steady but reverent. “Man knew how to keep things runnin’. Not just cars... but family.”

Annie’s breath caught. Her throat tightened before she could steel herself against it.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely holding. “He did.”

Smoke shifted, his gaze locked on the water, eyes glossed with memory. “When I came back and found out he’d passed…” He stopped, jaw working. “I was real sad, Annie. Real sad. I should’ve been here.”

She finally turned toward him, her whole body moving to face him now, arms folded like armor. “I was mad, Elijah. For a long time.”

“I know.”

“No,” she snapped, her voice cracking sharp like a branch underfoot. “You don’t know.”

Smoke looked at her then fully. The glow of the setting sun kissed her skin, deep brown and golden at the edges, eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked like fire and heartbreak.

“When Daddy died,” she went on, “I kept thinkin’… if Elijah Moore can leave me like that, disappear without a word, so can anybody.”

That hit him like a stone in the chest. Smoke looked down, jaw clenched, his breath shallow with shame. The guilt rooted itself deep in his gut.

“You don’t know how bad I wanted to write you,” he muttered.

“But you didn’t,” she said bitterly, voice trembling. “You left me wonderin’ for months if you were alive. If you ever meant any of what you said to me. I just can’t understand it, Elijah. Why?”

He looked up, his eyes glassy but burning. “Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”

The words came out hard, raw. Not anger—but something just as sharp. Something turned inward.

Annie froze. Her heart banged against her ribs like it was trying to break free. The weight of his words pressed into her ribs, pressed into the years she’d spent trying to forget how it felt to need someone so deeply.

The silence between them wasn’t cold—it was loud. Electric. Heavy with the ache of everything they hadn’t said.

Smoke turned toward her again, voice low and hoarse. “Your daddy… he was one of the first men who ever made me feel like I could be worth somethin’. He gave me tools when all I had was rage. He didn’t look at me like I was broken. Just… unfinished.”

Annie’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her lips trembling now.

“Maybe that’s why I wanted to be good for you,” he said softly. “Even back then.”

The breeze moved through the trees, ruffling her curls as the last blush of sun disappeared behind the horizon. The fireflies returned, glowing like forgotten hope.

Annie looked at him, really looked at him—not as the boy who disappeared, but the man who carried the weight of his absence like a scar across his soul.

“Elijah…” Her voice cracked. “You were always good enough for me.”

Then her tears came. They were silent, sudden, and hot. She didn’t cry easy. But these weren’t tears for today. These were for every night she sat in her dorm, waiting on letters that never came. For the ache of her father’s death. For the ghost of a love that never got the ending it deserved.

“I can’t—” she gasped, stumbling up from the rock. “I just can’t—this was a mistake.”

“Annie—wait!”

But she was already walking, arms wrapped around her chest, breath breaking as the sobs started to rise.

“This is too much,” she muttered to herself, fast-walking toward the horses. “What was I even thinkin’ comin’ out here tonight?”

“Annie!” Smoke was behind her now, boots crunching on the gravel. “Annie, stop!”

“No!” she shouted, not turning back. “This was a mistake! I should’ve never—”

“Annie Marie Baptiste. Stop walkin’ away from me!”

His voice snapped through the trees, sharp and deep and laced with something close to desperation.

He reached for her, grabbing her wrist, gently but firmly. She spun toward him, yanked by the motion and for the first time in years, their bodies collided like they had nowhere else to go.

Her eyes were red, glistening, furious. Her mouth quivered.

Smoke stared, stunned by the tears. “Annie…” His voice dropped, full of disbelief. “You’re cryin’…”

“Why now, Elijah?!” she asked, tears falling freely now. “Why show up in my life again after all this time? After I finally learned how to live without you?”

Smoke didn’t look away.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t retreat. His hand still held her wrist, but his other came up to gently cradle her jaw.

“Because the minute I saw you at the store...the lounge… laughin’, dancin’ like sunlight was pourin’ outta you… I knew I couldn’t go another damn day pretendin’ like you ain’t still mine in every way that ever mattered.”

Annie’s lips parted, breath caught. “You’re real bold,” she managed, voice thick. “Thinkin’ you still got any claim.”

“I ain’t sayin’ I got a claim,” Smoke murmured, stepping closer, his forehead nearly touching hers. “I’m askin’ for a chance.”

The air around them pulsed, heavy with history. With pain. With want.

You should’ve been there,” her voice started to shake. “You should’ve called. You should’ve written. You should’ve come back for me!”

She balled her fists and pounded them against his chest.

Not once.

Not twice.

But over and over.

Each blow wasn’t hard, but they were sharp, quick, wild with years of buried emotion. Her fists thudded against him flesh against muscle, grief against guilt.

Smoke didn’t move.

He stood there, solid, grounded, letting her pour it out.

Her pain. Her confusion. Her broken heart.

He took it all.

He let her.

His eyes burned, but he didn’t stop her hands. He couldn’t stop her—he owed her that much and more.

“I waited for you!” she cried, voice breaking. “I needed you, Elijah! I needed you when he died, and you weren’t there! You didn’t even try!”

“I know,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I know, baby. Hit me again if you have to. Just get it out. I’m right here.”

Her fists slowed. Her arms, once full of fire and hurt, were starting to tremble with exhaustion. Her sobs grew louder, messier, as her hands finally dropped uselessly against his chest.

Smoke didn’t waste a second.

He reached for her waist and pulled her into him. It was tight, grounding, and protective.

Annie didn’t fight him this time.

She let him hold her.

She needed him to hold her.

Her cries muffled into his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his torso as the weight of her sorrow came crashing down.

“I didn’t know how to come back,” Smoke murmured, one hand stroking the back of her head, the other curled around her spine. “I was scared. I thought I ruined everything.”

Her fingers curled into the back of his shirt, clutching him like he was the only steady thing in her storm.

And in that moment, he was.

She wasn’t just grieving the boy who left—she was grieving her father, her childhood, all the versions of herself she lost along the way.

And Smoke let her break.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke, voice rough with emotion. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I didn’t write. I’m sorry I made you carry that pain all by yourself.”

Annie shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowing through the blur of her tears. “Sorry don’t undo years of silence.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But it’s the truth. I’d go back if I could. I’d do it all different. I swear to God.”

His hands lifted gently to her face, rough thumbs brushing along her cheeks, wiping away the tears as they fell. The contact was tender, reverent like she was something sacred. Annie tried to hold onto her frustration, to her reasons for walking away, but his touch weakened her resolve like a match to silk.

“Please,” he murmured, lowering his forehead to hers, breathing her in. “Stay. Don't leave me.”

She felt his lips graze her temple.

Another tear slipped down her cheek.

Then, Smoke kissed her. Just a soft peck to her trembling lips. Then another. And another.

“Please.” Peck.

“Stay.” Peck.

“Baby…” Peck.

Each kiss was barely there, but they unraveled her. Word by word. Touch by touch. The tenderness in his voice cracked through the walls she’d built.

Annie closed her eyes. She could taste his regret. Feel the ache in his hands as they held her face like she might disappear again.

She didn’t know who leaned in first, but suddenly, the kiss wasn’t soft anymore. It wasn’t careful.

It was deep. Hungry. Raw.

Her hands curled into the collar of his shirt as she leaned into his mouth, parting her lips to let him in. His tongue met hers in slow, heated rhythm, like they were learning each other all over again, but differently now. Grown. Experienced. Starved.

Smoke’s hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, her curves melting into his chest. Annie whimpered softly into his mouth, her fingers now in his low-cut fade, gripping just enough to make him growl low in his throat.

This wasn’t the same kiss from years ago.

This kiss had weight. This kiss carried the hurt, the apology, the years without. It tasted like grief and forgiveness, like hope wrapped in heat. They kissed like they’d lost each other onceand neither of them was willing to lose again.

The horses shifted nearby, their soft snorts breaking the quiet, but neither Annie nor Smoke cared. The sky behind them blushed deep coral, the last of the sun casting gold over the water and their tangled silhouettes.

Annie clung to his shirt like she needed it to breathe. Smoke kissed her like she was air.

When they finally pulled back, foreheads still pressed together, breath mingling and lips kiss-swollen, Annie’s voice came out in a whisper.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Yeah,” Smoke replied, voice thick. “But it did.”

When she didn’t pull away, when her hands stayed locked in his shirt and her breathing came quick and warm, he knew she wasn’t walking away this time.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The sun had dipped low behind the cypress trees, casting long shadows across the trail as Smoke and Annie rode side by side in silence. The only sounds were the gentle clop of hooves on soft earth and the low hum of cicadas still hanging in the humid air.

Annie’s eyes were fixed ahead, the reins loose in her hands. Her curls fluttered around her face in the breeze, a few damp from where her tears had fallen and dried. Her chest still felt tight, but the heaviness was beginning to lift, like someone had finally opened a window inside her.

Smoke rode beside her, quiet and steady. His jaw was tense, but his gaze kept flicking over to her, checking in. Not pressuring, just present. He didn’t dare break the silence just yet. Some things had to settle. Had to breathe.

Annie finally spoke first.

“I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”

Smoke’s eyes slid to hers. “You didn’t fall apart, Annie. You let go.”

She glanced at him briefly, then back at the trail. “Felt like everything just hit me all at once. I'm sorry.”

“No apologies. It was bound to.” He nodded. “You been holdin’ onto that pain a long time.”

A pause.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I have.”

The trail opened up, golden light streaking through the thinning trees as the farmland came into view. Rows of green stretched out in the distance, and the soft outline of the barn and main house glowed beneath the peach-colored sky.

“You still mad?” Smoke asked softly.

Annie didn’t answer right away. She let the question hang between them, her fingers fidgeting with the leather reins.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I think… I was mad for so long it just turned into something else. Like… not hate. But not peace either.”

Smoke nodded, his voice quiet. “I’ll take that. I’ll earn whatever comes next.”

Annie turned to him, really looked at him, his profile in the fading light, the set of his mouth, the sincerity written all over his face. Her heart tugged painfully again, but not from anger.

From remembering how much she once loved him.

And maybe still did.

“I’m stayin’,” she stated, her voice low but certain. “I ain’t ready to go yet.”

Smoke looked over at her, eyes dark and unreadable, but the slow breath he released told her everything.

“I’m glad,” he said.

They rode the rest of the way in quiet understanding. When they reached the small paddock, Smoke hopped down first, tied up his horse, then turned to help Annie. This time, she didn’t argue. She let his hands guide her down gently, her body brushing his just enough to stir something warm and familiar between them.

“You hungry?” he asked, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans. “I got dinner waitin’ for us.”

Annie raised a brow. “You cooked?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

She smiled, the first real one since everything cracked open earlier. “Uh huh. Let go see this meal you cooked. ”

By the time they reached the edge of the clearing, the sky had dimmed into soft twilight. The horizon still blushed with lavender and coral, while overhead, the stars began to blink into view one by one.

Annie slowed her steps as they crossed under a canopy of pecan trees and froze.

Just ahead, nestled beneath the gentle reach of wild fig and cypress branches, stood a long wooden table bathed in warm, golden light. Strings of delicate bulbs were draped from tree to tree, their glow swaying with the breeze. Tiny jars filled with flickering candles lined the edges, casting a soft shimmer across every dish and bottle.

There were bowls of grilled squash, seasoned green beans, roasted sweet potatoes, sun-warmed blackberries and strawberries, and perfectly sliced tomatoes. A small basket of honey-glazed cornbread sat at the center beside two wine glasses and a bottle nestled in a bucket of ice. It's label handwritten in careful script: Maria Rose, 2010.

Annie’s mouth parted slightly. Her eyes scanned the scene like she was seeing something pulled from a dream. The hush of the countryside wrapped around them like silk, and for a moment, she didn’t speak.

“What… is this?” she whispered.

Smoke stopped beside her, watching her reaction. “A surprise.”

She glanced sideways at him. “You did this?”

Smoke scratched the back of his neck, half-shrugging. “Had some help. A friend of mine, Jericho. Him and his wife run this land. I asked if I could borrow the spot for the evening. Figured… maybe you’d like a little peace and quiet. Some place soft to land.”

Annie turned back toward the table. Her throat tightened. “I don’t know him, but this is beautiful, Elijah.”

He stepped closer. “I wanted it to feel like you. Like home. Natural and warm.”

She gave a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, brushing her fingers over the folded napkins and candle jars. “You really did all this for me?”

“I’d do more if you’d let me.”

The air between them shifted again. It was thick with memory, healing, and something tender pressing its way through the cracks.

Annie finally looked at him again. “You’re full of surprises tonight.”

Smoke smiled, eyes warm. “Only the good kind.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no heat behind it. “We’ll see.”

“Come on,” he said, offering her his hand. “Let me feed you, Miss Baptiste.”

She slipped her hand into his and let him lead her to the table, something in her chest loosening for the first time in years.

The evening settled like velvet around them. Fireflies blinked lazily through the warm Delta air, and the breeze carried the earthy scent of fresh crops and sun-warmed soil. The string lights above cast a golden hue over Annie’s brown skin, making her glow like a painting come to life.

Smoke poured the wine with a practiced hand, careful not to spill a drop. Annie watched his forearms flex as he worked, the muscles beneath his brown skin rippling subtly. He didn’t seem to notice her staring though her stomach had been twisting since the moment they sat down.

Neither of them said a word about the kiss.

Not the way it started with her fists on his chest.

Not how it ended with her melted into his mouth, lips swollen and heart pounding.

Annie took a sip of the wine. Sweet, light, almost floral. Her tongue brushed her bottom lip. She swore she could still taste him there. Those smokey kisses. That heady mix of cinnamon and heat. His breath, his hands, the way he touched her like she’d break but kissed her like he was starving.

She cleared her throat and reached for a tomato slice, biting into it gently to distract herself.

Across the table, Smoke watched her movements with barely hidden focus. He hadn’t meant to kiss her like that. Hell, he didn’t even plan on touching her at all tonight. He wanted to earn her forgiveness with time, not passion. But when she broke down, when those tears started pouring and she hit him with everything she’d been holding in. He snapped.

And that kiss? That kiss had ruined him.

Now, sitting here, pretending to talk about squash and blackberry wine while her lips were still echoing on his. He was starting to unraveling slowly for her over again.

“You like the wine?” he asked casually, sliding a bowl of sautéed green beans closer to her.

Annie nodded, not trusting her voice just yet. “It’s good. Light. You said it’s from Jericho’s vineyard?”

“Yeah, his wife preserves ‘em. They bottle a little batch every year for family.”

She smiled, fingertips brushing the base of her glass. “Nice. Real nice.”

Smoke took a sip from his own glass, his eyes not leaving her face. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” She held his gaze. “Are you?”

He gave a soft laugh, low and wry. “Depends on how you mean that.”

Annie raised an eyebrow, lips curving ever so slightly. “You know how I mean it.”

Silence stretched.

She reached for a piece of cornbread and broke it in half, steam curling up like a secret. “You always liked to stare,” she said softly, not looking up.

Smoke leaned back a little. “You always liked pretending you didn’t like it.”

A flicker of something passed between them. It was wry and knowing.

They chewed in quiet for a moment.

Annie picked at her food, her appetite waning under the heat rolling off him. Her body was restless. Her thighs clenched every time he licked his bottom lip. Every time his fingers tapped the table, strong and rhythmic.

She kept seeing that kiss. Feeling it. The pull of his mouth, the sound of his breath, the way her body had surged toward him on instinct.

Smoke cleared his throat and reached for the roasted sweet potatoes. “You used to hate those,” he said, nudging the bowl toward her.

“I grew up,” she said, voice quieter than she meant it to be.

He paused, studying her face.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low and weighted. “You did.”

Their eyes locked again. The air between them thickened.

God, she still tasted like strawberry milkshake.

Smoke sat up straighter, trying to will away the ache tightening in his chest. He looked around the clearing, pretending to admire the lights he and Jericho strung up just hours earlier. But all he could see was the way her lips looked bruised. Kissed.

Annie crossed her legs slowly beneath the table, trying to cool the flush in her cheeks. She didn’t know what scared her more. How much she still wanted him… or how much he looked like he still wanted her.

“You okay?” she asked suddenly, needing to hear his voice again.

Smoke nodded, his tone careful. “Just thinkin’.”

“Bout what?”

He stared at her. Dead center. Right into her.

“Bout how long I been wantin’ to sit across from you like this again.”

Annie looked down, her heart thudding.

She should’ve said something light. Teased him like she used to. But the weight of his words sank too deep.

Instead, she let the moment stretch, the moon rising just behind them, casting its soft silver glow over the vines and lights.

She lifted her wine glass again.

They ate in silence after that. Intimate, but quiet. Like their bodies were having a conversation their mouths refused to speak.

But they both knew.

That kiss wasn’t the end of anything.

It was the beginning.

They’d finished their food a while ago. The picnic table still held the remnants—bowls of roasted sweet potatoes, okra and green beans, halves of sliced peach, and stems from grapes long devoured. The wine, now lukewarm, swirled in their glasses like a lazy secret. Crickets began their nighttime chorus, low and steady, blending with the rustle of trees swaying in the breeze. The candles on the table burned low, flickering like secrets too big to say.

Neither of them had mentioned the kiss.

Neither of them had to.

It still lingered on their lips, on their breath, and in the spaces between their words.

Annie stood first, brushing her palms over her shorts, fingertips grazing the edge of the table. “That was… really good,” she said, her voice soft, measured.

Smoke looked up from his plate, lips curved in a quiet smile. “Yeah. Glad you liked it.”

She started to move, wandering toward the vines that stretched across the back edge of the farm. The evening curled around her skin, warm with a hint of chill. Her curls caught the glow of the string lights above—twinkling soft like stars stitched into branches.

Smoke watched her, silent.

He didn’t say a word.

Didn’t need to.

Her back was to him, but she felt it. The warmth of his gaze grazing her spine, slow and deliberate. Her breath caught as she lifted her hand and ran her fingertips along one of the grapevine trellises. She moved in rhythm, hips swaying subtly, like she was responding to a music only she could hear.

Smoke stood, the scrape of his chair soft against the dirt.

His boots crunched the earth as he walked slowly, every step thickening the air around them. He didn’t rush. Didn’t break the moment. He simply… moved closer.

Annie didn’t turn.

But she felt him.

His presence hovered behind her, close but not touching. A hum of static crackled in the space between their bodies. Her lips parted slightly, and the warmth of his chest danced like heat against her back.

She held her breath.

He reached forward slowly, his fingers brushing hers, grazing the same leaf she touched. His other hand hovered beside her waist. Not holding. Not daring.

Still, no words.

Still, no touch.

Annie leaned back. Just a whisper. Her shoulder blades nearly brushed his chest.

Smoke’s breath hitched.

His eyes traced the curve of her neck, her bare shoulder, the slope of her back beneath the soft, pale fabric of her halter top. Her skin. Deep brown and glowing beneath the string lights shimmered like warm molasses kissed by firelight.

She smelled like honeysuckle, sugar, and summer.

And he was drowning.

Finally, her voice barely audible.

“Why are you so close?”

His voice came just as low, intense with restraint. “Why ain’t you moved?”

She didn’t.

Neither did he.

Her hand tightened around the trellis.

Smoke stepped closer. One inch. No more.

But it felt like everything.

She turned her head slightly, and her temple brushed the edge of his cheek. Their mouths were inches apart, breath to breath, heartbeat to heartbeat.

Still... no kiss.

Still... no release.

Just tension. Molten and quiet.

Her breath trembled. Smoke’s fingers twitched beside her hip.

The silence wasn’t empty.

It was a confession.

It was memory.

It was everything they’d tried not to say since that kiss by the pond.

And then… Smoke stepped back.

Slow. Gentle. Like letting go of a dream.

Annie finally exhaled, her pulse a steady drum in her chest. She didn’t turn. Didn’t ask why. Because she knew:

The fire between them?

Had only just begun.

Smoke walked back toward the table, his voice low and a little rough around the edges. “I should probably get you home,” he said softly, glancing toward the distant path leading back to the truck.

Annie raised a brow, playful but with a hint of challenge. “Oh? You tryin’ to get rid of me already?”

He turned toward her with that signature grin, lazy, crooked, and too damn confident for her own good. One hand rested casually on the back of her chair as he leaned slightly, head tilted. “Nah. Just don’t want your mama worryin’… You know she’ll be out on that porch with the light blinkin’ like a bat signal.”

Annie laughed, strolling back over, the hem of her shorts brushing her thighs with every step. “She would, too.”

“And I’d rather not have her comin’ up to Cypress with a belt in one hand and a shotgun in the other,” he added, feigning a shudder. “I’ve seen that look in her eyes. She don’t play.”

Annie rolled her eyes, brushing past him to grab her purse. “Please. She likes you.”

Smoke’s gaze lingered, his voice dropping a note lower as he murmured, “She used to like me. We’ll see if that still holds after tonight.”

Annie turned slowly to look at him, a glint in her eye. “We will see.”

The air was thick and charged where neither of them could moved. His eyes held hers a second too long, and that crooked smile faltered into something softer. Something real.

He cleared his throat, pushing off the chair with a little shrug. “Stack’s holdin’ it down at the lounge tonight anyway. Told me not to rush back. So…”

“So… you took your time,” Annie finished for him, voice soft.

He looked at her.

And something about the way she said it—like she knew what he meant, what he hadn’t said tightened the air between them again.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “Took my time.”

Her hand clutched the strap of her purse tighter, like it might help ground her. Because the way he was looking at her now was like he wanted to taste every part of her.

“You ready?” he asked, tilting his head toward the truck.

Annie nodded once. “Yeah. Let’s get back to the truck.”

They walked side by side down the path, the twinkle lights dimming behind them, the night stretching wide and quiet ahead. Neither spoke. But the silence between them didn’t feel empty it felt full. Full of tension, of memory, of words they weren’t quite ready to say.

And the strangest part? Neither of them wanted the night to end.

Nine years ago. Summer.

The sun hung low over the Mississippi River, spreading molten light across the sky like melted brass. Orange, pink, and soft lavender stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, brushing the cypress trees in a warm glow. Smoke’s Cutlass sat nestled in a clearing at the river’s bend, engine ticking softly in the cooling air.

He popped the trunk earlier and lined it with a thick patchwork quilt, two pillows from his bed, and the scent of gasoline and old metal. Now he sat leaned back against the cushions, legs stretched out, one hand around a chocolate milkshake, the other resting on the edge of the blanket.

Beside him, Annie curled one leg under herself, her curls loose and bouncing with the breeze. She wore a simple yellow tank top and cut-off jean shorts, bare arms glowing in the sunlight. Her strawberry milkshake balanced between her knees as she sipped it, lips tugging at the straw, eyes half-lidded with contentment.

“You know,” she said, glancing over at him with a smile, “you really did it. This car.”

Smoke grinned, licking whipped cream from his thumb. “Told you I’d have wheels before July hit. What can I say? I grind.”

“Grindin’ at the lumber yard and runnin’ numbers for folks ain’t exactly glamorous,” she teased, nudging him.

He smirked. “Don’t need glamour. Just needed the keys.”

She leaned into him slightly, shoulder brushing his. “I like this. Feels like ours.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just looked at her. The soft light dancing across her cheekbones, the way her mouth curved around the straw. His chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with milkshakes.

Annie caught him staring. “What?”

“You ever think you’re too pretty to be out here with somebody like me?”

Her brows lifted, but her smile didn’t waver. “Somebody like you?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Somebody still tryin’ to figure it all out.”

She looked away, toward the river. “You see broken pieces. I see a whole story.”

Smoke swallowed. That girl had a way of undoing him without trying.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their shakes, the cicadas humming somewhere deep in the trees. The river caught the last glint of light, shimmering like glass cracked but still beautiful. Somewhere a frog croaked. A breeze rippled across the clearing.

Annie shifted, drawing her knees up slightly, the cup cradled in her hands.

“Elijah,” she said, so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

“Yeah?”

“I’m ready.”

Confused, he turning to look at her. “For what?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just held his gaze. Her eyes didn’t flicker, didn’t flinch.

Then it hit him.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Wait—you mean…?” His voice cracked slightly.

She nodded once.

He sat up straighter, shake forgotten, heart thudding. “You sure? Like, really sure?”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a long time,” she said, brushing her fingers over the condensation on her cup. “Not just… sex. But you. Us. I want this to be with you.”

Smoke stared at her, trying to find the right words. “I ain’t done this before, Annie.”

“Neither have I,” she replied, cheeks pink, voice barely above a whisper. “But I trust you.”

He ran a hand down his face, then reached for her hand. “I want to do this right. For you. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You won’t,” she said, her fingers warm in his. “We’ll figure it out together.”

He kissed her then. It was slow, nervous, and tender. She tasted like strawberries and summer, like hope and everything he didn’t know how to say. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the soft curve beneath her eye. She melted into him, her free hand resting on his chest, feeling his heart pound like a drum.

They broke apart, breathless. The tension that had lingered in the air all evening finally broke into something electric.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, fingers trembling slightly as they slid along her side, grazing the hem of her tank top. “May I?” he whispered, breath brushing her ear.

She nodded.

He tugged the fabric upward, inch by inch, revealing warm brown skin and the gentle rise of her stomach. She shivered beneath his touch, not from the cold, but from the weight of the moment. Her top fell away, and his eyes softened.

“Damn,” he said, reverent. “You’re… you’re somethin’ else.”

She smiled shyly. “You act like you never seen me before.”

“Not like this. Not when the sun hittin’ you like you gold.”

Her bra came next, and he moved with care, worshipping her with kisses along her collarbone, between the valley of her breasts, each kiss a soft promise. She lay back on the quilt, arms folded above her head, curls sprawling like a halo.

Smoke pulled off his shirt, his chest heaving. She stared, touched him softly, fingertips brushing down his chest like a breeze.

“You’re shakin’,” she said gently.

“I’m tryna hold it together,” he admitted with a half-laugh. “This mean somethin’ to me.”

“It means everything to me,” she whispered.

They undressed slowly, limbs awkward, hearts loud. But their laughter softened the edges, and their kisses filled the space where nerves lived.

When she lay beneath him, legs parted, her breath catching, Smoke hovered over her, forehead pressed to hers.

“I ain’t got nothing,” he whispered. “No protection.”

Annie stared up at him. “I know. I still want this.”

His hand cupped between her thighs, stroking gently, making her gasp. She was already wet, already aching.

He aligned himself, his hips trembling, lips brushing her temple. “Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me anything.”

She nodded, her voice trembling. “I will.”

He entered her slowly, carefully, watching every flicker of emotion cross her face. When she winced, he paused, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her shoulder.

“I’m okay,” she breathed. “Keep going.”

He did. Inch by inch, until he was buried inside her. Her walls clung tight, the heat and pressure almost too much. He stilled, breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers.

“You feel like… like heaven,” he said, voice breaking.

" Elijah.. Please.." She moaned out to him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer. Their bodies moved together in slow rhythm, learning each other like music. There was no rush, just tenderness. Kisses. Gasps. The world narrowing to just them and the sun dipping low behind the trees.

When they came, it was with a quiet moan into her neck, his body shivering. She held him tightly, tears in her eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming beauty of it.

After, they stayed tangled, bare and open, watching the last streaks of light fade into night.

Smoke kissed her hand. “This night... I’ll remember it forever.”

Annie smiled, brushing his cheek with her thumb. “Me too.”

The fireflies blinked into the dusk, and the river whispered its secrets in the dark as their love rooted itself in deep, quiet, and eternal.

TAGLIST:

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @brattyfics @chrisevansmentee @margepimpson @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @bigjh @est1887 @thegreatlibraryofalex @127hydrangeas @tadjoa @thickmadame @chixkencxrry @jackierose902109 @carmilladias @rolemodelshit @lilblckraincloud @thesmutconnoisseur @hotebonynearby @lizbehave @fadingbelieverexpert @samiecemonet-blog @nebulamilkyway @shamansha @soufcakmistress @diamondsinterlude @sarcastic-sunshines @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @hotcommodityyy @coolfoodrunworld-blog @thefutureemmywinner @childishgambinaax

[thoughtsafterdark]

Hospitals and Airports are the closest modernity can come to reaching the Divine

Have you noticed how some places seem immune to time and social conventions. Like airports, those monoliths of now. Harsh lights burning and souls criss-crossing, tongues melting together into a writhing throng of humanity, a steaming cesspit of consciousness. Steeped in camaraderie yet drenched in isolation. The electric blue arrivals sign glares with neon brightness at 3am, a beacon that signals the end of the road.

Here comes a family of 4 on their way home, crossing through automatic doors into the balmy drizzle of a British night, carrying their loot of straw hats and cheap pendants, tan lines and peeling red lobster skin. A girl no older than 5 limps after her parents and older brother. She lugs her bright pink unicorn behind her and hugs the hood of lilac pyjamas close, rubs the sleep out of her eyes whilst her mother shouts at her to hurry. Soon she’ll tuck herself into bed, in the attic of their ordinary red brick London row house, and she’ll watch the sun peak over the trees in the back garden for the first time in her life. It will become a core memory she will think fondly back on for years to come.

By the first class lounge they hurried past, a man in an impeccable suit (Sheep’s wool, the finest money can buy. The grey colour of the Thames on an early morning) paces back and forth restlessly, briefcase in hand, phone in another. Gold amber eyes like a hawk, close cropped black hair and neatly trimmed beard, square pocket matching the deep tan of his shoes (authentic leather). He is barking orders to someone in Arabic, closing deals, building empires. A bloodied napkin he used to stop a nosebleed earlier falls out of his pocket and winks up at the scaffolding exposed ceiling, high and arching like the dome of a cathedral. He’ll make the sale, then visit the airport bathroom again before hailing a cab to the closest 5 star. In the morning, the maid who took the job to send money to her ailing mother in the Philippines will find his cold stiff body and scream. She’ll call the police and be taken in for questioning. She never signed up for this.

At the hospital coffee shop – two streets and half a lifetime away - a 4th year med students sips on a cortado like her life depends on it. Caffeine surges through her veins, bracing her for the day ahead. Unbelievable how exhausting trying to take up as little space as possible can be. She hates the spiel, it’s the same every time. A new dawn, a new face, a new team. The introductions, the smiling, the grovelling, the headache. She’s 5ft flat with bright orange hair, aspirations for Neurosurgery and a bright pink notebook, so why would they take her seriously.

It’s 8:30, and she’s scheduled for 9am clinic, so she has time for a hurried breakfast today. (Eating any earlier makes her gag). Small mercies. The off-red stained scrubs she nicked from the theatre changing rooms cling to her like a second skin preparing to moult. She squirms in them, the comfort undeniable. They make her feel like she belongs. They make her feel like an imposter.

Her table – she comes here so often; she thinks of it as hers - sits right by large windows overlooking the main entrance and staircase. She sees it all from here, her quiet unassuming throne. The doctors and nurses, physios and pharmacists. Rushing rushing, running, stressing. Wishing, hoping, waiting, waiting, waiting. For the shift to end, for the time for bed. For this rotation to change, for the exam to pass. We’ll go on that holiday next month, next year. When money isn’t tight, when things are more settled.  Before they know it they’ve wished their lives away.

Their patients understand, all too well and all too late. The same father with the IV drip and the metal stand comes down here every morning to see his daughters. They run up to him, he holds them close and beams. But his grip is getting weaker, smile is getting thinner. He doesn’t answer when they ask when he’s coming home. It’s funny what we can’t hear when we’re too busy wearing stethoscopes. Next month she (I) will be stationed on the Psych ward. We’ll have to do it all again, but maybe they’ll hear me this time. Maybe it’ll get easier.

Between them all and among them, if you squint and unfocus your eyes during one of those ungodly hours at the Starbacks across from Boots and WHSmith, leaning against a grey white pillar you might see him.

He is the spectre that haunts airport lounges and waiting rooms alike, the handsome stranger with the black snapback and the beats headphones and the khaki shorts. The one who lives out of a rucksack and wears a travel pillow like a crown. With the kind eyes and crows feet, and honey chestnut curls. He is that boy from your high school everyone liked, with a kind word for everyone; the one with a charmers smile and the charisma to bullshit his way through anything. The one who – when pressed for future plans, would laugh and shake his head, looking down bashfully. “I just want to travel for now, see where it takes me. I want to see the world”, he’d say, eyes twinkling with the possibilities. On someone else, the words would likely merit a telling off, they’d be seen as the paper thin excuse to fuck around and get high. But he seemed so genuine, and his teeth were such a dazzling shade of brilliant white when he smiled, even the strictest careers advisers couldn’t resist.

He lives in those moments, the liminal fabric between worlds that’s so hard to put your finger on. Blink and you’ll miss him in the old alleys of Rome, the spark of his cigarette lighter blending amongst the city lights.

You’ll find him among the most remote hiking trails of the Peloponnese, laughing with local shepherds and German tourists alike, sitting on jutting rocky cliffs and admiring the blue Mediterranean below. If you really pay attention, you’ll see his staff isn’t like the others. Something suspiciously like a pair of snake slithers up and down. You could swear you heard them whispering just now, but when you look again it’s just a wooden stick.

He is the patron of us wanderers and travellers, those of us with movement in our blood and restlessness in our hearts. The ones who beget the will of changing winds and shifting tides. The ones who can’t allow themselves to sit still, lest the dust settle and the coffee get cold. The mortifying ordeal of being seen and known. Or the ones that carry a hearth with them, in the bottom of a suitcase, in the heart of a trailer. The ones who move and weave through the Earth not because they are running but because they are coming home. He dances and jokes with the kids amongst campfires, always welcome, always a pleasure. And if he helps them pick the odd lock, swearing solemnly to secrecy, who are we to judge.

His bronze skin smells of cinnamon and nutmeg, vanilla and cedar and a thousand other spices. He reeks of incense and market stalls, moles and freckles tell the story of trading routes and old silk roads, of cotton shawls from Alexandria and silk from Pekking. His fingers and eyes twinkle with the good-natured mischief of petty thieves and sleight-of-hand magicians, tricksters and circus performers. He picks apples from behind ears, presents jewel necklaces to his lovers.

She sees him now, amongst the patients. He helps an old lady up the steps, pulls a balloon out of his back pocket to the delight of a sick child. She locks eyes with him and they nod at one another She has been seen now, and known. Perhaps she’ll find him again one day, if either stop running.

[beansprean]

Lil comic from chapter 1 of Alethophobia by @jay-auris! Character designs by the incredible @pejntboks!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Distant shot from behind a white van parked on a patch of gravel and dirt with its rear doors wide open, pine trees in the distance against a darkening sky. Human Nandor is rummaging around in the equipment in the back of the van, muttering angrily to himself. He is wearing a green flannel with rolled sleeves over a white tee shirt tucked into cut off blue jean shorts, white knee socks, and hiking boots. The side of Guillermo's face appears in closeup in the foreground, looking at him. 1b. Shot from inside the van as Guillermo comes up behind Nandor, both now facing the viewer. Nandor has his graying hair down and hanging messily in his face as he scowls, sweat beading on his forehead. He wears a silver medallion around his neck, orange tasbih prayer beads around his right wrist, has two orbital piercings with silver hoops and a silver conch stud in his left ear, and silver vertical studs on his right eyebrow. He continues glaring at the equipment and shuffling it around with his left hand as he thrusts a camera bag out behind him with his right, snapping, "Leave Laszlo to pack everything like an overgrown child. Here, pull out the extra batteries so I can put them in the actual fucking battery cases we own." Guillermo looks down at the bag in surprise as it is thrust towards him, hands coming up automatically to take it. He is wearing a black tee shirt with a gray symbol on the chest under a sleeveless unzipped dark blue hoodie with red trim, black leggings, red sneakers, a black fidget ring on his right middle finger, and a silver cross around his neck, tucked into the shirt. 1c. Close up of Guillermo as takes the bag and removes the batteries, aiming a concerned look at Nandor as he does so. He asks, "Are you okay?" 1d. Waist up of Nandor from Guillermo's POV as he straightens up and wrestles his hair back into a messy bun with quick, angry motions. Still glaring down at the equipment, he snarls, "I dislike long car rides; I dislike being out of the city;" 1e. Reverse shot, close up of the back of Nandor's head with its painful looking bun in the foreground as he continues, "I dislike laszlo's laissez-faire attitude towards the security of our expensive equipment..." In the background, Guillermo frowns as he observes Nandor's hair.

2a. Repeat. Guillermo interrupts Nandor's venting by pointing toward his hair and asking, "Can I fix that?" Nandor's head in the foreground turns toward him, asking, "Huh?" 2b. Wide shot facing the rear of the van as Guillermo says, "Your hair, just- c'mere." Guillermo takes Nandor by the shoulders, turns him around, and pushes him down to sit on the bumper with a small, unassuming smile. Nandor looks shocked and not a little flustered, shoulders tense under Guillermo's hands. 2c. Close up on Nandor as Guillermo pulls the rubber band from his hair and lets it loose around his shoulders, covering his eyes. Guillermo combs his fingers through the strands and Nandor stills, expression hidden but cheeks going red. 2d. Close up of Nandor's face from the nose down in profile as Guillermo's hands gather his hair behind his shoulders. 2e. Close up of the back of Nandor's head from Guillermo's POV as he pulls all of Nandor's hair together neatly at his crown.

3a. Close up on Nandor's side, elbow to hip, as Guillermo's right hand leaves his head to tap two fingers on Nandor's jeans pocket. Nandor pulls his elbow away in surprise. 3b. Repeat. Nandor's other hand obliges, pulling a second rubber band from his pocket and offering it to Guillermo, who hooks it onto his finger. 3c. Waist up of Guillermo as he steps back with a hesitant grin, hands clasped together at his sternum. He says, "There. Better?" 3d. Close up of Nandor's right hand as it lifts his phone and unlocks it with a thumb. His phone case is a Lisa-Frank-esque close up of a white horse with purple, blue, and pink spots on a backdrop of a blue sky with clouds and a rainbow.

4a. Bust of Nandor as he raises his phone up to take a look at himself in the camera, expression now softened from his earlier frustration. His hair is now twisted up into a neat, round bun at the crown of his head, one stubborn strand loose at his temple. He raises his eyebrows, liking what he sees, and says "Huh. That's very good. How did you do that?" 4b. Zoom out to knees up, Nandor still perched on the bumper of the van. Guillermo stuffs his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and leans back against one of the van doors, flushed and grinning as he aims his gaze elsewhere. With a humble shrug, he replies, "Sister taught me. She said that if I wanted to impress a girl one day, I should learn how to do basic styles." Nandor lowers his phone and drapes that arm over his raised knee, left hand palming the other to balance himself as he turns his torso towards Guillermo with a grin. He says, "Well, color this girl impressed." /end ID

[sare11aa11eras]

Elia watching her children play in the garden

[ID: a drawing in marker and colored pencil of Elia Martell from ASOIAF. Elia sits on a bench, in profile, turned away from the viewer so she can watch the tiny child figures of Rhaenys and Aegon who play near a fountain. Elia wears a green gown and hijab-style headscarf, crowned by a golden circlet. Her sleeves and inner skirts have a pattern of orange-red circles on them and the gown has gold trim. Next to Elia, on the ground, is a cane. The bench she’s sitting on is on a path surrounded by blooming rose bushes. Butterflies hover at some of the roses, and one has landed on her fingers. At the end of the path is the fountain the children play near. Balerion the black cat is with them. Behind the fountain there is a tall willow tree. Behind that is the garden wall, which has a few gargoyle statues, one shaped like a dragon, another like an archer. The tops of trees poke above the wall. The path and the wall are both done in pink and red. /end ID.]

[drunk-person]

Look after you (The Gossip) P.11

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and aunt and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: In a world where lies and half-truths reign, truths come to light and choices are finally made.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+, fights, dysfunctional family, severe trauma, mentions of depression, religious guilt, mention of purification rituals, mentions of past abortion no description for reader.

Word count: 15.900 k

A/n: Sorry for the delay dears, this was really hard to write. Hope you all enjoy! Songs of the chapter: Stop Crying Your Heart Out by Oasis, Outro & Wait by M83 and Look after you by The Fray.

Good morning Kings Landing, after the scandal at the charity ball, Targaryen Inc.'s shares have fallen this weekend, but it seems that this did not affect the person responsible for it much, since Aemond Targaryen was seen entering the Aegon's Fort hotel yesterday afternoon. What business would he have to resolve with his cousin or his uncle, who is known to be staying there? The branches of the Targaryen family tree seem to be very close in the last few days.

❦❦❦

Y/n swung on the swing higher and higher as Aemond pushed her, her joyful laughter making him laugh too.

-Higher Aem! - She shouted, throwing her head back to look at him with a smile on her lips while her hair tied with colorful ribbons flew in her face in the wind. - Higher!

-Mommy said it can be dangerous to go that high. - He answered a little fearfully, but still pushing her on the swing harder and harder.

-But if we don't go high then it's no fun! - She shouted laughing once more, throwing her head back to look at him.

Aemond just rolled his eyes laughing and continued to push the chains of the beautiful wooden swing in the garden. When the swing was at a considerable height Y/n jumped off it, making the older boy's eyes widen as he watched her fall onto a pile of golden and orange autumn leaves piled up earlier by the gardener, making them fly through the air and scatter once again across the lawn.

At the same moment Aemond ran towards her with a frightened expression, calling her name with a childish voice overflowing with concern. But when he got close to the pile of leaves he could hear his cousin's happy laughter as she thrashed through the leaves as if she were already playing in the snow.

-I thought you got hurt! - He murmured looking at her still worried.

-Don't be silly Aem. - She laughed, taking out a dry leaf stuck in her hair as she felt a drop of rain dripping on her cheek. - The leaves are soft.

-You could have gotten hurt anyway. - He grumbled, kicking a pebble that was on the grass.

-I'll never get hurt with you always looking out for me. - The youngest replied smiling, rolling her eyes, and with a mischievous look she grabbed several dry leaves and threw them at Aemond before running through the mansion's wide backyard.

-I'll get you! - He shouted, darting after her amidst the flowers and neatly trimmed grass, his silver hair flying in the wind as more soft drops of rain clung to his skin and clothes.

-No, you won't! - She shouted happily, quickly looking back, her hair tied with colorful ribbons and her white dress with ruffles and lace flowing around her as she ran smiling.

The rain became heavier, going from soft drops to thick drops, creating streams of water through the grass and leaving the yard increasingly muddy. It was in one of these mud puddles that Y/n slipped, falling backwards onto the lawn amidst laughter of joy.

Aemond, who was following Y/n at full speed, couldn't help but slip and fall beside her, feeling the cold rain, which was now torrential, falling down his face as he heard the youngest's contagious laughter.

-My dress! - She suddenly shouted, but it was too late, there was already mud stuck all over the white lace fabric.

-It's okay, we can ask my mother if we can go to that store you liked again so we can buy another one. - He smiled, taking her hand and looking at her fondly.

-Swear? - She asked looking down while pouting and carefully stroking the stained lace of the dress.

-I swear! - Aemond assured, squeezing her hand gently as he spoke.

And upon hearing this, Y/n smiled again, rolling around on the wet and muddy grass as if she were a tomboy laughing with fun. With a smile, Aemond plucked a blue hydrangea from the muddy flower bed and gave it to the youngest, who accepted the flower with an even brighter smile on her lips.

-From now on, they are my favorites! - She spoke exultantly with excitement, holding the flower against her chest.

Aemond's bones ached with cold at this point, but he didn't care since his heart was warmed with joy.

❦❦❦

The sun bathed the interior of the room with its warmth, but it wasn't enough to warm the cold bed in which Aemond woke up. His bones were still frozen with cold like in the dream, but the warmth of Y/n's laugh had disappeared, making him look around with sleepy eyes in search of her, still slightly intoxicated by his cousin's perfume that was permeated in the hotel pillows. , still almost feeling her soft touch against his skin.

Aemond hadn't even realized it when he slept the night before, he was so tired and so exhausted from the last few days that finally having Y/n's body around his own brought him the peace of mind he so desperately needed to finally fall asleep and rest as he needed. But now looking around, she had disappeared.

-Y/n? - He called her with a voice hoarse from sleep, frowning, getting up from the bed still naked and with messy hair.

The room was completely silent, there was no sound of water running in the shower or of the TV on in the adjacent hall, just a morbid and cruel silence that made Aemond's stomach churn, and he was sure that if he had anything inside him he would have vomited the moment he realized she was gone.

❦❦❦

Not far from the hotel, laughter flowed freely amidst words that contained enough venom to putrefy an entire ocean. At the Heyford residence, friends were eating cake and talking as if their lives depended on it.

-I doubt any of you will try to deny the facts now! - Elyrio said laughingly, pointing the dessert fork at the others present.

-By the Gods, I thought he was going to kill Jason! - Pia muttered, stirring the tea gently before drinking it, her eyes still wide. - Did you see his face?

-Jason's face after Aemond attacked him or Aemond's face that looked like a demon while attacking him? - Lion frowned ironically.

-Even better, Floris's face as she watched her fiancé attack Jason for dancing with a woman who wasn't her. - Jane laughed, throwing her head back on the back of the couch

-I think he groped her ass. - Pia muttered, frowning.

-He didn't, the Targaryen is just crazy. - Lion chuckled, shaking his head. - They are all weird, fucking your cousins for years makes you that way.

-Cousin marriages were quite common. - Pia rolled her eyes and adjusted herself on the sofa. - All of our families have done it.

-Yes, in the middle ages… like centuries ago. - Elyrio grimaced, rolling his eyes.

-Didn't your cousin Tilde marry your cousin from the North last year? - Pia smiled ironically, curving her eyebrows at Lion and Elyrio, who remained silent for a few moments.

-That's beside the point… - Elyrio dismissed the conversation, waving his hand as if that gesture could remove the topic. - They are not direct cousins, almost fourth degree at this point.

-Anyway, I haven't seen Floris since all the confusion started at the ball. - Lion changed the subject soon after.

-You probably won't see her for a long time. - Jane muttered, leaning forward a little on the couch. - I heard one of the Targaryen security guards saying that our dear Y/n broke her nose.

-Damn. - Elyrio laughed, putting his hand to his mouth and throwing himself back on the couch. - The Targaryens will probably hide them both in a capsule in space for about three years after all this.

-Most likely. - Jane rolled her eyes agreeing. - I heard my father saying that Viserys Targaryen called an extraordinary emergency meeting with several members of the company for today after the drop in shares.

-I don't think so… - Pia muttered with her eyes slightly wide as she read a news story on her cell phone and then immediately showed the screen to the others, with the headline and a photo of Aemond leaving Aegon's Fort with the car windows down taken a few minutes ago.

-He must have gone there to give her moral support after seeing all those photos on the way out of the dance. - Pia concluded, turning the screen back to herself.

-We're past that phase, Pia. - Lion rolled his eyes. - With the anger he was in on Friday night, he must have fucked his dear cousin until her brain turned to jelly last night.

-Lion! -Pia croaked, blushing slightly at her friend's foul language.

-Nothing more than facts, little Pia… - He smiled mischievously against the cup, staring at them over the rim. - And now everyone knows about it.

❦❦❦

Aemond dressed in a hurry, looking around the room once more, before slamming the door and going down to the reception, slightly disheveled, without even caring about it. His head was boiling with fear and worry.

-Where's my cousin? - He growled at the reception man with his jaw clenched.

-I don't know, s-sir. - The boy stuttered slightly, unable to look at him properly. - She left a while ago, she said to hand over her luggage to her father and stepmother and ask him to check out.

-You're not going to hand her luggage to anyone! - Aemond hissed lowly with wide eyes, almost jumping over the counter. - Leave everything exactly as it is, am I clear?

-Y-Yes, sir. - The boy nodded nervously as he watched the Targaryen walk hard toward the parking lot, his face contorted in fury.

Aemond got into the car, slamming the door behind him with excessive force, causing a loud bang in the parking lot, feeling his hands tingle with desperation, barely able to put the key in the ignition with the slight tremor that took over his entire body.

-Seven fucking hells! - Aemond shouted in frustration, slamming his hand on the steering wheel as he tried to imagine where the hell Y/n had gone besides the hotel.

Almost completely overcome by despair, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, mentally repeating the words he wanted to believe now more than ever: "I'll find her, I'll find her." Feeling momentarily calmer, Aemond finally started the car, sighing shortly after as he left the hotel parking lot.

His mind was racing, trying to think of a way to find her. His main idea was to call her, but he had no idea what the youngest's new number was, besides the fact that his phone wasn't with him. Since in his rush to leave the house the day before, he had forgotten it on the bed, along with the clothes Aegon had lent him.

As he drove back to the apartment, Aemond mentally listed who might have her number, but he couldn't think of anyone, since they had been together practically the entire time since the day she arrived until that horrible day when they had the argument.

Aemond felt so foolish, so stupid. He asked himself every moment "How could he let her go? How could he lose her once again?" A lone tear of pain ran down Aemond's cheek as he thought about her, as he thought about the fact that in that moment he would give anything to have his Y/n back smiling by his side.

Daemon's voice seemed to echo through his head, making his stomach churn as he imagined Y/n moving on with life without him, at imagining another man in his place. Memories of the night of the ball invaded his mind, her so beautiful in that red dress next to that wretched Lanister. Aemond's blood boiled at the mere memory, but the anger was instantly replaced by pure pain when he remembered Y/n's voice telling him not to touch her as she pulled away from him.

And amidst all the pain of last Friday's memories pounding through his mind, Y/n's provocative voice seemed to shine, speaking mockingly about her own dress. Olenna's dress, for which Aemond knew that Y/n had such great admiration that it bordered on fanaticism. And with renewed spirit, he accelerated the car even more, since if anyone could have Y/n's number it would certainly be the old fox Olenna Tyrell.

He didn't even bother to lock the car when he got out of the parking lot, he just ran towards the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly, as if that would help the elevator move faster. When he finally opened the main door, Aemond frowned the exact moment he stepped inside, noticing that things were definitely not where he had left them.

A stab of pain shot through his chest and Aemond felt his heart freeze when he saw the open trunk with several of his precious memories scattered across the couch and floor. Without even closing the door behind him, he ran towards where the mess had been made, eyes wide and hands shaking.

Aemond's breathing was almost returning to normal flow, when once again his stomach dropped at the sight of Alicent's expensive moss green leather bag resting on the table in the entrance hall. Bile rose in his throat at the exact moment the realization dawned on him that it was his mother who had come in there and gone through his things.

Feeling his throat almost closing up, he bent down and picked up Mr. Bunny from the couch, and next to the plush, a picture of him and Y/n hugging and laughing on one of her birthdays, while a hot tear ran down her cheek almost to her neck before Aemond wiped it away roughly with the back of his hand. Her smile, frozen forever in that image, almost made him lose his breath once more.

Until Vhagar's soft meow sounded through the room, making him look away at her, who was looking at him curiously while gently rubbing herself against his legs.

-It's okay, dear. - He whispered more to himself than to her, stroking the cat's ears while she was allowing him to do so. - It's going to be okay.

Aemond's voice sounded more determined, before he put the old plush back on the couch and walked to the bedroom looking for his cell phone, almost smiling when he realized it still had enough battery. Aemond was about to leave the apartment with only his cell phone in his hands, when something flashed in the back of his mind.

He would not wait any longer, he would never lose her again, not in this life or in all the others that would come. With this in mind and his heart full of fear, Aemond bent over the trunk, fearing that the wooden box he always kept at the bottom was no longer there, feeling almost instant relief when he saw it intact and unopened among the other things that remained in the trunk.

With a sigh, he grabbed the box and headed toward the elevator, slamming the apartment door behind him. Still with his angry eyes, he strode toward the reception as soon as the elevator door opened, making the doorman flinch slightly.

-May I ask why you let my mother break into my apartment while I was away? - He practically growled at the man, leaning over him as if he were ten feet tall.

-I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to. - The doorman muttered without looking him directly in the eyes. - But your cousin asked me to come up and I thought there would be no problems…

-My cousin? - Aemond's voice dropped five octaves in ten seconds upon hearing that, his eyes shining with shock as the threatening posture gradually left him. - Y/n was here?

-Y-yes, sir. - He nodded as he spoke. - She asked me to wait for you, said you wouldn't mind.

-When was that? - Aemond asked, his voice bordering on hysteria. - What time did she come?

-It was yesterday afternoon, she said she would wait for you. But then your mother arrived, sir, and went up too. - The man gestured towards the elevator as he spoke. - She didn't stay up there for long, but as soon as she left it didn't take long and Miss Y/n went too.

-By the fucking gods. - Aemond hissed furiously, and without saying anything else he headed towards the parking lot with his eyes flashing with fury.

He had barely slammed the car door behind him when he selected the Tyrell residence number from his cell phone's contact list, feeling all his body tingle with unease.

-I need to talk to Olenna Tyrell. - He growled angrily as a girl's voice sounded on the other end of the line.

-My grandmother doesn't answer calls on Sundays. - The pretentious and arrogant voice sounded against Aemond's ears, making him even angrier.

-It's extremely urgent. - He hissed slowly through his teeth, his jaw so tight it could break.

-She continues not to answer calls on Sundays. Call again on Monday. - The girl said ironically before Aemond heard the sound of the phone being hung up.

-Insolent slut. - Aemond practically shouted angrily, throwing the cell phone hard against the passenger seat, not knowing what to do next, and then just starting the car, leaving the parking lot for the light of the street.

A few moments later, when he stopped the car at a traffic light, Aemond looked ahead and the news screen of the main avenue lit up, making his heart drop, when suddenly several photos of Y/n alone on the road after the charity ball appeared.

Her eyes were scared and slightly reddened by tears as she tried in vain to cover her face with her arms. It got even worse when a video started next, where one of those vultures placed the camera so close to her face that it almost knocked her over.

Even watching from a distance without the audio, Aemond could almost hear the sound of her voice, almost feeling her desperation on his own skin, with her eyes wide with fear, looking in all directions but with no way to escape. Bile rose in his throat, making him feel like he was going to vomit, anger and fury were boiling inside him like a toxic and explosive mixture at that moment.

Taken by nothing more than pure hatred, Aemond made the left turn that would take him to the family mansion, breaking the right of way and honking at whoever the idiot was who had gotten in front of him, gripping the steering wheel with such force that his knuckles were slightly white.

❦❦❦

The movement in the Targaryan family mansion that day was much greater than usual. While Rhaenyra and Aegon were talking to several of the main shareholders along with some of the department heads, Viserys had been locked in the office with Alicent and Larys Strong, the head of the public relations department, for at least two hours.

Each suggestion given to resolve the problem made Viserys want to disappear from the room, not wanting to upset his wife, but not knowing exactly which path to take to correct all that chaos.

-The Lanister family is undoubtedly furious. - Larys communicated to Viserys in a restrained manner, while walking around the room with both hands behind her back, her head lowered, but with her eyes observing every detail inside the office, as if analyzing Alicent who stared at Viserys with a frown while picking at the skin around her nails lightly. - They demand at least a public apology from Aemond, and are considering reevaluating some recent investments with the Targaryen.

Viserys sighed at this, raising a slightly trembling hand to his forehead as he tried to think of a solution.

-Let's leave that for later. - He finally decided. - Tymond Lanister is an old friend of mine, I spoke to him personally about it later.

-What about the Baratheons? - He finally asked while crossing his hands on the wooden table top and looking at Larys.

-Borros Baratheon has publicly stated that he will not collaborate with anything that has the slightest to do with Targaryen Inc. - Larys murmured in a soft and slightly paused voice as he observed Viserys from bottom to top, as if she were analyzing him meticulously. - Not after the terrible humiliation suffered by your daughter.

-The girl however… claims that she would still agree to get married, even in… the current circumstances. - Larys clasped both hands together, looking from Alicent to Viserys as spoke.

-And what do you expect me to do? - Viserys hissed, staring at him slightly impatiently, raised his hands up. - May the Gods help me! Aemond said he won't marry the Baratheon girl! - Viserys roared lightly, glaring at them. - What can I do?

-Force him to marry Floris! - Alicent demanded furiously, placing both hands on the tabletop, staring at her husband with eyes blazing.

-What do you want from me, wife? That I put a knife to the boy's throat and force him to go up to the altar? - Viserys roared in a low voice, glaring at her with a mixture of exhaustion and anger. - I can't do that!

Viserys didn't need to try very hard to know where all this would end. Exactly where Daemon ended up, forced to marry Rhea, stuck in a loveless marriage and with a heart full of hate. He pressed his hands firmly against his face, knowing very well where this whole story between his grandmother and Daemon had ended. In more shouting and more fighting, in a loveless marriage, in the permanent separation from his brother and in the birth of Y/n in a house that looked more like a war zone than a home.

-How can you not, Viserys? - The youngest looked at him indignantly, leaning even more firmly on the table and almost lifting her feet off the floor to face her husband with eyes shining. - Do as your grandmother did with your brother, tell him that either he marries Floris or he will be disinherited!

Before Viserys could give his answer, the office door opened and Aemond appeared with his jaw and fists clenched in fury. The older man looked closely at his son who looked completely destroyed, with his wrinkled suit, his long disheveled hair tied in a poorly made bun and his bloodshot eyes full of dark circles making it seem as if all the joy had been sucked from his soul. Viserys held his breath momentarily with the cruel thought that he hadn't seen him like this in five years.

-That's what you're doing then? Planning my ruin behind my back? - Aemond hissed with slightly wide eyes, walking slowly into his father's office, while looking from one to the other with betrayal burning in his gaze, watching his mother turn and stare at him with shock in her eyes, before regaining her composure.

-Your ruin? - Alicent arched her eyebrow in confusion, as she approached Viserys behind the desk and looked at her son very seriously. - Everything I've done up until now has been to protect you, Aemond! Every decision, every little thing… - She pointed out, tightly squinting her eyes as she spoke. - It was to protect you and your reputation! It was to ensure that you have the future you deserve!

-And what is the future that I deserve, mother? - He spat out the words angrily. - A fake marriage to satisfy your and my grandfather's ego? Living forever on lies while everyone knows that I love another woman? That I desire another woman?

-By the seven, I forbid you to speak of this matter again! - She hissed, serrated her lips immediately afterwards as she slapped her hand against the table.

-Mother, I’ll only ask you once. - Aemond ignored Alicent's words, still slightly blinded by anger, speaking through his teeth with his jaw so tight that it was almost possible to hear it creak. - What did you say to Y/n? - Aemond demanded, staring at his mother with wide eyes burning with fury.

-I don't know what you're talking about. - Alicent replied at the same time, looking away from him briefly. - I haven't seen her once, besides the night of the ball, since she came back.

-Stop lying to me! - He practically shouted, taking long strides towards the table where his mother and father were standing behind with their eyes even wider.

-I know you were in my house, I know you went through all my things! I know you said something to her because now she's just gone and I have no idea where she is! - Aemond seemed out of control as he spoke, his voice hateful and cruel with each word he uttered as he walked around the office with hard steps, feeling almost compressed to be again in the same room where they had ripped half of him away years ago.

-Tell me the truth! What did you say to Y/n? - He growled now in a low voice with his face contorted with anger and his eyes jagged.

-Exactly that, the truth! - Alicent finally screeched, walking towards her son decisively. - I didn't say anything else to her, I just stated the facts. If she decided to leave, she decided on her own! I'm not to blame for any of this!

-Lies! - He hissed once more, glaring at her decisively while Larys and Viserys watched the exchange in silence. - She wouldn't do that, she wouldn't leave, she wouldn't leave me if you hadn't done something about it! - Aemond yelled while gesturing to the older woman.

-But you're right, mother, none of this is your fault. - He growled, glaring at her even more furiously, his face contorted into a hateful frown. - It's mine for letting things get to this point! It's mine for not sending my grandfather to the seven hells the day he came up with that infernal proposal!

-If she wanted to leave, it was of her own free will! - Alicent reiterated angrily, walking towards her son, stopping a short distance away. - What you need to do now is stop this madness and focus on your future. - She begged him, looking him in the eyes, holding her son's shoulders firmly. - We still have time to fix things between you and Floris and resolve this whole mess!

-There is no me and Floris. - Aemond screamed lividly upon hearing those words, breaking free from his mother's touch in the process. - Y/n is my future! - He hissed between his teeth. - And I wouldn't marry Floris Baratheon even if it were to save my neck! - He growled increasingly furious as he looked around the office, briefly meeting his father's shocked eyes on the way. - I would rather drop dead right now than accept living like this!

-Dear, you're confused. - Alicent murmured, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she approached him once more. - Let's just talk to the septon and sort this all out, everything will be fine after you talk to the septon!

-I'm not going to talk to anyone! - Aemond walked away from her, his eyes sparkling. - I don't want to talk to anyone! - He shouted, walking towards the door. - The only thing I'm going to do is find Y/n, and no one is going to stop me!

-Don't you dare turn your back on me for her! - Alicent shouted, taking a few steps forward and facing her son with clenched fists, her nails almost sinking into his flesh, making Aemond stop with his hand on the doorknob. - That girl is a mistake!

-No, she's not. - He sighed wistfully, looking back briefly and facing his mother. - This is all a mistake.

Without looking back again, Aemond left through the office door, slamming it as hard as he could behind him, quickly going down the stairs, feeling as if his brain was rattling inside his head, while his mother's voice sounded behind him, along with the footsteps heavy weights of Viserys, who was also descending the stairs, followed by Larys Strong.

Little by little the screams filled the main hall of the mansion where Aegon and Rhaenyra were trying to calm the spirits of some worried shareholders, making everyone instantly look towards the stairs. Quickly, the curious eyes of the mansion's employees and everyone else who was there paid maximum attention to the scene, barely looking away as Aemond descended the last few steps of the stairs in a rage, followed by Alicent who seemed on the verge of despair.

-Aemond, if you leave through this door, you don't need to come back! - Alicent shouted, standing at the foot of the stairs with tears in her eyes, watching her son cross the hall towards the front door, while Viserys looked around, not knowing what to do, in the midst of such a delicate situation and with so many extremely important people seeing everything firsthand.

Aemond froze for a moment, looking at the perfectly polished floor of the house where he had grown up, the same floor on which he had run with Y/n so many times playing tag, the same floor on which she had been dragged away from his arms years ago, the same floor on which his tears had flowed freely for nights on end as he remembered her.

He looked up and in front of him, near the door, were Aegon and Rhaenyra. His half-sister stared at him with what seemed like a mixture of fury and disdain, while his brother had a frown and a very serious look on his face, staring at him with a look that practically made Aemond hear a voice screaming in the back of his own mind.

Choose.

With his jaw serrated and his hands clenched into fists, he turned around again, staring at his mother with shining eyes as he took his wallet out of his pocket, opened it, and ripped the company's access badge with his credentials out, threw it onto the hall table with force in an act of pure fury under everyone's shocked gaze.

-Aemond! - Alicent squealed in horror, putting both hands to her mouth as her eyes widened.

-Then I'm not coming back! - He loosened his tie, ripping it off angrily, followed by his jacket and throwing them on the table along with his badge while he glared at both his father and mother. - It's over for me!

Without saying anything else, Aemond walked towards the exit of the mansion, his gaze momentarily crossing with Rhaenyra and Aegon's once again, she looked at him with even more disdain if that was possible, while Aegon had a palpable smile of pleasure on his face, nodding quickly when his younger brother walked past him in long strides towards the garden.

Nothing else mattered to Aemond at that moment, the only thing that existed in his mind was Y/n, the only thing that would keep him breathing was finding her. And going as fast as possible towards his car he had an idea of ​​how, there was only a certain type of person who always seemed to know where everyone was in that damn city, those faggots from the gossip papers, who seemed to be everywhere at the same time.

Slamming the door behind him furiously, Aemond accelerated the car leaving the mansion's grounds without even looking in the rearview mirror. When he was a safe distance away a few meters later he stopped, turning around almost at the same moment to reach for his cell phone on the passenger seat.

Aemond sighed deeply, almost punching the steering wheel in frustration resorting to the last desperate resource that could help him find her, praying quietly to the gods that some tabloid would have at least one update with Y/n's name.

-Hell where is she? - Aemond muttered to himself as he scanned through the various gossip pages with hundreds of hits. Until his gaze caught on one in particular called "Kings Landing Daily", in which Y/n's name appeared in large letters in an article from about an hour ago.

"Is it time for pruning? Y/n Targaryen was seen at the Black Water Bay airport a few minutes ago, apparently completely alone. Some sources claim that she bought a ticket to Essos, but no one could say which city! Perhaps the more libertine airs across the sea will do our dear girl good, who seems to enjoy unorthodox entanglements."

Just below the headline was a photo of Y/n entering the airport looking even more haggard than when he saw her the day before, her gaze vacant and unfocused, while her lips were curled down in a frown so sad that it made Aemond's heart drop almost to his stomach.

With trembling hands, he checked the flight schedule, feeling the air return to his lungs briefly when he saw that no flights had left for Essos, and there was only one scheduled to take off in the next two hours. With that in mind, Aemond started the car again, stepping on the accelerator towards the airport.

As soon as Aemond started the car, the radio turned on too, still tuned to the same radio station that Y/n had left on the previous days. And Aemond's eyes filled with unshed tears when Shania Tyrell's soft voice began to sound from the speaker, singing that same song that his sweet Y/n loved, the song that she always said belonged to the two of them.

Stopping the car at a traffic light, he closed his eyes momentarily, while the memory of her smile took over his mind. As if by magic, the memories of the dream he had had earlier that day returned, and Aemond's heart ached even more as he remembered the sweet promises made by those two children in the rain.

❦❦❦

A few miles away, Y/n was sitting curled up in an armchair in the cold, gray private waiting room of Black Water Bay Airport while outside the chaos of the airport continued without her. Y/n looked at everything through the large window next to her armchair, carefully observing the profusion of excited or irritated conversations, while the mechanical voice of the sound system announced the next flights.

Amidst the tumult of people rushing to catch their flights, she then saw a smiling couple, the woman in a very fine lavender dress and the man wearing an expensive suit, in the middle of them holding both of their hands while occasionally gaining momentum and lifting her small feet off the ground, there was a beautiful little girl who must have been no more than five years old. Smiling and laughing, chatting things that Y/n couldn't hear to her parents, who just looked at her with love.

Y/n's eyes slowly shifted to another direction, her gaze lost in the sight of a blue flower sticker on the window of one of the stores across the hall. Little by little, her vision lost focus as she felt her mind wandering down paths she didn't like to go down, through memories that brought her more pain than any other physical wound she could have ever had.

As if to make everything even more painful, Shania Tyrell's soft voice sounded through the airport speaker, singing so sweetly that it made her close her eyes momentarily as she thought painfully about everything she had lost and everything she would still lose, being slowly dragged into unconsciousness.

❦❦❦

The green meadow of RuneStone seemed even bigger and greener than Y/n remembered in her childhood memory of the happy moments she had lived there with her mother. The sweet smell of grass and sea entered her nostrils, bringing a soft feeling of innocent joy to her heart.

With a smile, she admired the beautiful mountains that covered the entire Valley, full of greenery and small colorful flowers that gave them a charm that in childhood made Y/n think they were magical. Everything seemed perfect, the sky so beautiful and blue that it could be a painting and no one would know, and suddenly a firm voice, but at the same time full of warmth and deep love, sounded through the sound of the leaves in the wind, making her heart skip a beat.

-How is my little girl?

Y/n's eyes filled with tears at the same moment as she slowly turned around, feeling the wind ruffle her hair, messing it up, her heart flooding with barely contained joy and extreme melancholy as she heard her mother's voice for the first time since she was a child.

-Mama! - Y/n sobbed out loud as soon as her gaze met Rhea's, and without thinking for a second she ran straight into her mother's arms, throwing her onto the fresh, soft grass of the Valley, falling next to her as tears ran freely down her cheeks.

-Mom, I missed you so much. - She practically sobbed, holding tightly to the woman, hiding her face in her chest as tears and more tears ran down her face. - So… So much.

-Oh my little girl. - Rhea stroked her hair with adoration and care, an unwavering love and longing in her eyes as she left a kiss on her daughter's hair. - I'm so sorry I couldn't be with you.

-I'm dead? - Y/n asked with a trembling voice, still clinging to her mother. - I'm dreaming? Are you really real?

-I assure you that you are very alive and that I am very real. - The woman held her face by the cheeks softly, looking into her eyes. - You needed me, didn't you? - She smiled without taking her eyes off her daughter. - So I came to see you.

Y/n sobbed with joy upon hearing that, hugging her mother even tighter as she hid her face in her neck and cried profusely, feeling a wave of security so strong in her bones at that moment that it almost left her breathless.

-But why only now? - The younger girl's gaze towards her mother was nothing but confused as she tried to breathe and dry her tears, and still couldn't let go of Rhea. - Why not earlier? I've needed you before, mom.

-But not as much as now. - Rhea caressed her daughter's cheekbones with her thumbs, frowning momentarily.

-You're giving up, Y/n. - Rhea spoke very seriously. - You've never run away in your entire life, you've never cowered in the face of problems, you've been through much worse trials than this and you've always kept hope in your heart, you've always fought for the things you wanted.

-I can't stay, mom. - She sniffed, wiping a tear with the back of her hand, feeling her heart burning with pain. - I don't have the courage to tell Aemond what happened. - She sobbed lightly, holding on tighter to her mother as she said those words. - And I also don't want to be the one to blame for ruining his future.

-You need to tell him the truth, my dear. - The mother smiled sadly, caressing Y/n's hair. - I know how painful this was for you, but what happened is also part of Aemond's story. He needs to know. And you need to tell him so you can move on.

-Mom, I'm so scared of telling him the truth. -Y/n sobbed, pressing her eyes tightly, the pain inside her threatening to take over her entire being at the mere mention of a not-so-distant past.

-My sweet girl, I can feel your anguish. - Rhea whispered to her melancholic daughter. -But sometimes we need to face the past to be able to forgive.

-I don't want him to hate me. - Y/n murmured, hugging her mother tighter and tighter as she listened to each of the older woman's words with her eyes full of fear. - I won't be able to bear it if he hates me.

-Not when you already hate yourself for what happened, right? - Rhea caressed Y/n's face with a look of deep sadness and the youngest looked away. - It wasn't your fault, Y/n. You need to forgive yourself.

-I don't know if I can. - She sighed with her eyes closed in deep pain. - It hurts so much when I think about it, mom, it makes me wish I had died that night.

-You were just a little girl. - Rhea spoke sweetly but very seriously. -You weren't responsible for anything that happened. It doesn't matter what anyone told you.

-Aemond loves you more than anything, Y/n. - Rhea smiled melancholy against her daughter's grass-scented hair. - I don't think it would ever be possible for him to hate you, besides, he's a smart guy. He'll understand. He will suffer just like you, but he will understand.

Y/n smiled momentarily against her mother's heart when she heard this, thinking about her dear Aemond and how much she loved him, but then she became serious.

-I don't want him to suffer, mom. - She murmured hoarsely, feeling her stomach churn at the mere thought of causing Aemond suffering.

-You can't take that away from him, my dear. - The woman answered solemnly, stroking a lock of her daughter's hair. - Just like you can't take away from him the opportunity to choose what he wants for his own future. - Rhea continued in a serious voice, looking deeply into Y/n's eyes. - You have the right to your choices, and Aemond has the right to his. His mistakes are not your fault, just as yours are not his.

-But it's not fair to you or him to leave like this, my dear. - Rhea murmured against her hair, leaving a soft kiss there, making her daughter sigh with contentment.

-And how much did Alic… - Y/n swallowed the bitter words before continuing, while raising her head and looking Rhea in the eyes. - And what about Aemond's mother?

-You don't owe anything to Alicent Y/n. - Rhea grumbled, her voice slightly heavy and her eyes sparkling subtly.

-She was good to me, mom. - Y/n frowned in confusion as she rambled on, even if deep in her heart a certain bitterness resonates at the sound of the words. - She took care of me as a child when I lost you.

-Just because someone had a good attitude towards you in the past doesn't mean you should subjugate yourself to them forever. - Rhea held her daughter's face more firmly as she said those words. Her face was as firm as the rocky mountains that surrounded them. - The past is in the past. Alicent took care of you when you were a child and that won't change.

-But something that also won't change is what she did to you afterward. All the pain she caused you. - The older woman's voice sounded fiercer, while her jaw clenched subtly as she said the words, with a look of deep protection in her eyes. - It's okay to feel angry with her for that, it won't make you ungrateful when she hurt you in so many ways.

-I don't expect you to retaliate, but I didn't raise my daughter to be a coward. - Rhea whispered to Y/n with a stronger voice as she looked her firmly in the eyes. - To cower in front of Oto and Alicent Hightower and run away!

-You're not just a Targaryen, you're a Royce! - Rhea growled with burning eyes as she stared at her daughter while holding her by the shoulders. - And Royces don't run like cowards, it's us that the cowards run from!

Y/n's eyes burned when she heard that, but this time not from tears, but from a feeling of inexorable bravery taking over her and leaving her almost breathless, while her lower lip trembled gently.

-I'll be brave, mother. - She stated in a firm voice, feeling her heart race in her chest with the promise.

-I wouldn't expect anything less from you. - Rhea smiled widely as she gently and softly caressed her daughter's cheeks, just like she did when she was a child.

-My sweet Y/n. - Rhea's voice grew weaker, almost a whisper as she still looked at her daughter with that same look of affection and sweetness. -Be happy!

❦❦❦

-I'm will! - Y/n whispered softly in her sleep.

A profusion of sounds burst from all sides, and still feeling her heart warmed by her mother's words, Y/n woke up from her dream looking around the gray airport waiting room a little scared trying to locate herself in that place that seemed so cold compared to the green meadow of her dream.

With her eyes returning to focus she turned once again to the large window next to the seat, but now the movement of people had reduced drastically, since everyone was looking basically in the same direction while whispering among themselves. Y/n raised her eyebrows slightly confused, since she couldn't see what all those people were looking at from where she was.

But then suddenly she held her breath, the moment she realized that Aemond's familiar voice echoed through the room. For a moment Y/n didn't know if she was awake or not when she walked towards the public area of ​​the airport and her gaze found Aemond arguing with a security guard a few meters ahead, just behind the non-passenger limit area.

-Mr. Targaryen, without a ticket, I cannot let you pass from here. - The man tried to explain in a firm voice, but one that inevitably contained a note of fear.

-I just don't understand why I need a ticket when my family owns the fucking airport! - He hissed through his teeth, furious, his nostrils flared and his eyes wide, making the security guard flinch a little.

-I-I'm sorry Sir, but that's the airport policy…

-Fuck the airport policy! - Aemond didn't let him finish, looking even more furious, almost advancing on the security guard. - I need to talk to my cousin right now! Where is she?

His face looked completely red as he spoke, while around him several people watched the scene with curiosity written all over their faces. Some had already taken their cell phones out of their pockets and were discreetly filming the whole mess.

But Y/n didn't even notice those people, her gaze focusing solely on Aemond, who as if sensing her presence turned to look at her, all anger leaving his expression almost instantly upon seeing her. The next second, without giving any explanation to the security guard with whom he had caused a scandal seconds ago, Aemond walked with long strides towards Y/n, without hesitating for a second on the way to the youngest, while he felt relief gradually replace the despair with which his heart seemed to be so familiar.

Y/n in turn just remained motionless in the same place, still numb from the dream, not sure if it was real or not. Until Aemond got close enough for her to feel his breath brushing against her skin and pulled her against him in a desperate hug, almost crushing her bones against his.

-You can't do that to me. - He murmured against her neck in a desperate voice, holding her against him in the middle of the airport hall. - You can't leave again when you promised me a week ago that you would never leave me again.

-Aem… - She murmured in a frightened voice, looking around. - People are watching.

-I don’t give a shit about any of them. - He interrupted her at the same time with a growl, holding her face between his palms. - Let them stare.

-What are you doing? - Y/n stared at him with wide eyes, while she felt the gaze of everyone around her burning holes in her back.

-Which I should have done the moment you came back to me. - Aemond hissed softly, looking deep into her eyes, his heart racing in his chest, almost taking his breath away.

-I love you, Y/n Targaryen. - He declared in a firm voice, still holding her face between his hands, which were now shaking slightly as he spoke. -I have loved you since I knew what love is.

Y/n felt her heart jump in her chest when she heard those words, her stomach churning while the rest of her body suddenly seemed to start tingling simultaneously. She couldn't say anything, just stare at Aemond with her breath caught in her throat, barely able to move, paralyzed by that moment.

-Wherever I go, I see you! - He whispered, his red eyes seeming to look straight into her soul. - On every street I walk, every sunrise and every sunset I watch. On every rainy day, every damn flower that dares to grow in a field. - He sighed heavily, pressing his eyes tightly. - I see you!

-My heart is chained to you, Y/n. - He opened his eyes again, staring at her in such a raw way that it made her skin crawl. - You can't leave without tearing me apart in the process.

-Aem… - She gasped, her eyebrows furrowed, staring at him, unable to look away even an inch.

-If you leave, you'll be condemning me to a life of endless pain and sadness. - Aemond stopped her from saying anything, as he pressed his forehead against hers. - I don't care about anything else. - He murmured, his eyes sparkling as they met hers.

-I don’t care about companies, politics, family. I only care about being with you! I'd live in an isolated cabin in the middle of the Iron Islands if I could be with you. - He practically growled.

-Aemond. - She sighed, her face contorted in a mixture of doubts, her hands slowly rising until they gently rested on the older man's cheeks, holding him carefully just as he held her while shaking his head. - This will ruin you.

-I'm already ruined, Y/n. - He sighed to her with teary eyes, guiding his hands through her hair and holding her closer. - I've been ruined for five years, since the night they took you away from me.

-And I would give up everything… - He practically gasped, his eyes wide as he stared at her, while Y/n held her breath, unable to take her eyes off his. - I would give up all the money and our family name right now, if it means that you will be mine forever.

-Because if I have you and nothing else, I will be satisfied. - He murmured, gently brushing his nose against hers in an act of affection so gentle that it almost pulled all the air out of Y/n's lungs. - But if I have everything a heart could desire and I don't have you, I can never be happy.

Y/n's body was so close to Aemond's that she could feel his heartbeat against her own chest, as if it were only one, and at that moment her heart was beating so hard that she feared she would die right there. In a brief moment of hesitation, her mind went back to the previous afternoon, and Alicent's cruel words about how all of this was ruining Aemond's life, and for an instant she wanted to let go of him.

But as quickly as the thought came it dissipated, replaced by his own mother's voice, whispering softly to her that Aemond's choices belonged to him, and no one else. It was not up to her to decide what to do alone, it was not up to her to choose for him. Aemond was making his decision and he was choosing her over all other things, and Y/n knew she had to make her own decisions and that she would be the biggest fool if she refused him, if she refused her greatest wish and opportunity to be happy.

Feeling her eyes filled with tears, Y/n slowly approached Aemond, brushing her nose against his slowly, her lips just a breath away from touching his.

-I love you too. - She whispered, her face contorted in pure contentment as she said those words, closing her eyes slowly and sighing, as if saying those words lifted a weight off her shoulders.

Little by little Aemond's face contorted in tension began to dissolve into a soft smile with his eyes shining with emotion, while he felt the purest relief inflame inside. Being taken by that overwhelming wave of contentment, Aemond didn't care about the hundreds of eyes that were already watching them open-mouthed, he just sealed the millimeter distance that was left between them with a passionate kiss right there, in the middle of the airport hall full of people.

The moment their lips touched, dozens of flashes went off simultaneously in the distance, but Aemond didn't care, not when Y/n was in his arms so close that he could feel her heart as if it were his own. Not when he could taste her lips on his, feel the flavor of her love mixing with his.

Aemond broke the kiss with a soft sigh, leaving a short peck on her lips in the process, brushing his lips against Y/n's afterwards as they both kept their foreheads together, unable to pull away from each other.

As the buzz increased along with the increasingly deafening noise of the flashes, the two were slowly pulled back into reality. Aemond assumed a stoic expression again, locking his jaw as he pulled Y/n behind him, protecting her with his body, afraid to see the frightened look from earlier on the screens firsthand if she had to face the photographers face to face alone. He walked with long strides towards the exit, always keeping her close to him, while the airport security guards tried to keep the paparazzi who had appeared like vultures.

Y/n, in turn, barely saw or heard the photographers, even though the flashes were popping madly a short distance away while they shouted scandalous and dirty questions at both of them. Her eyes only saw Aemond, her ears only heard his breathing and heartbeat as he whispered softly in her ear that everything was okay, holding her protectively in his arms the entire way to the car, only letting her go to open the passenger door and then helping her get into the car as quickly as possible, before running to the other side and getting in as well, already starting the engine and driving the car out of the airport parking lot.

The youngest didn't know what to feel, her heart racing as fast as a hummingbird in mid-flight. She was still catching her breath when she looked to the side and saw Aemond with his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him, driving on a path that seemed familiar to her, but still Y/n had no idea where it would lead.

-Where are we going? - She finally found the courage to ask as she bit her lower lip, staring at the older man.

-To a safe place… - He murmured with a small sideways smile, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes. - A safe and special place.

It wasn't long after that and the two arrived at a large empty property, surrounded by a high stone wall and a huge cast-iron gate that looked like it had come straight out of one of the books Aemond read to them before they went to sleep, or on the days when it was too cold to play in the garden when they were both children.

Y/n couldn't see anything behind the walls, only through the bars of the gate where she could notice several trees and flowers planted around a vast green lawn, along with the sound of dozens of birds singing happily while colorful butterflies flew around, brightening up the place.

-What is this place? - Y/n smiled playfully for the first time in days, but still with a melancholy in her eyes, as she stared at the older gently raised her eyebrows. - The enchanted forest?

-Well, see by yourself. - He murmured, still with a subtle smile on his lips, already taking off his seatbelt and getting out of the car, making Y/n frown when he opened the back door and took out a solid wooden box that for a moment she remembered seeing at the bottom of the trunk the day before, but she didn't have time to snoop around with Alicent's sudden arrival.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut and sighed before finally getting out of the car, feeling her heart in her mouth as she tried to imagine the million possibilities of what all this could be. Aemond waited patiently for her outside with his hand extended in a courteous gesture that she gladly accepted, and with a subtle smile he guided them both to the gate.

Without letting Y/n see the rest of the box's contents, he pulled a large, copper-colored key filled with colorful trinkets that seemed familiar to Y/n from inside the box and unlocked the huge gate, which let out a rather loud creak as it opened.

-First you my lady. - He murmured, holding the gate open so that the youngest could pass, making Y/n lean gently and pass under his arm, looking curiously at the immense property now that she was inside the walls.

The two walked down a short stone road that seemed to lead nowhere, and Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that she knew that place, even if she didn't remember being there. The only sound heard was that of the birds and both she and Aemond walked in silence, without saying a single word to each other, until the older one let out a resigned sigh.

-I never forgot you. - He murmured, looking at her painfully while tightly gripping the wooden box. - Not even for a minute.

-Aemond, you don't need to, I've already… - Y/n began to speak, feeling her heart tighten with the guilt of the words she had said to him in the hotel room, being immediately interrupted by the older man.

-I need to. - He sighed, grabbing her hand through his free one and bringing it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the palm. - I need to tell you how much I missed you, how much I wanted you back during each of the days that passed.

-Some days I talked to myself. - He murmured, looking down. - I pretended you could hear, I pretended you were there because I felt like I was losing you, I felt like I was slowly going crazy.

-I think maybe I could hear you. - Y/n whispered back holding his hands between hers. - Sometimes I was sure I heard you whispering my name during the night, maybe I was dreaming, but I preferred to just believe it was your voice. - She smiled melancholy looking at the floor.

-I'm sorry for making you think that I didn't care about everything that happened. - His voice was solemn and his gaze downcast. - I missed you, more than anything in this world. So much so that some days I thought I was going crazy. - Aemond gasped, squeezing his eyes shut at the mere memory.

-It wasn't your fault. - She murmured softly. - I just… I was so scared and so insecure about this whole Floris and you thing that…

-Y/n, this is over. - Aemond interrupted her at the same moment, the Baratheon's name causing a bitter taste in his mouth. - There never was a Floris and me, and there never will be. I put an end to all that lying, there is no more engagement, there is nothing else. There is only you and me now. - The last words were spoken quietly as they both leaned closer to each other.

-Close your eyes. - Aemond asked in a low voice, almost whispering, watching with slightly teary eyes as the younger girl arched her eyebrows in confusion before slowly closing her own eyes.

Y/n shivered slightly as she felt the older man's soft hands gently touching her shoulders, turning her in another direction that she assumed was the sun, as she could feel a subtle golden glow through her eyelids.

-You can open them now. - He whispered with his lips pressed against the shell of her ear, making Y/n's skin crawl.

Slowly Y/n opened her eyes, blinking a few times to adapt her vision again, and when she finally could see clearly again, she could see the hills of Visenya and the enormous sept of Baelor above her. Completely covered by the orange sunset just like it was all those years ago when Aemond said he loved her for the first time in that same meadow.

-Is-is it our meadow? - She asked, looking back with her eyes brimming with emotion, while her lips trembled as she spoke.

-No. - Aemond smiled, turning her towards a completely clean and empty meadow, only well-trimmed grass growing in that place. - It's our home… - He murmured against her neck, smiling anxiously. - Well, our future home

-It was the first thing I did when I started working at the company. - Aemond sighed, pulling her even closer to him, making Y/n melt into his touch as she looked at the property, finally recognizing little things that remained unchanged over time, like the beautiful colorful flowers that Aemond always picked for her.

-I bought this place for us, Y/n. - The oldest kissed her neck gently as he spoke. - To build our lives here, just like we always dreamed. - Aemond slowly moved away from her, leaving a soft caress on her left cheek and then looking away at the wooden box.

Y/n bit her lower lip in curiosity as she watched him trying to discover the contents of the box, until he took a paper from inside and after closing it again, unfolded it, making Y/n feel her heart almost collapse when Aemond placed the slightly crumpled paper in her hands. An old, faded drawing of orange walls, white windows, beautiful classic columns, colorful hydrangeas everywhere. The drawing of the house she had made all those years ago.

-You saved it. - She whispered, holding the paper with trembling hands, raising her wide eyes to look at him.

-Of course I did. - Aemond smiled wistfully with tears in his eyes, caressing her cheeks with his fingertips. - It's our dream, the future that I promised you.

Y/n looked around once more, finally noticing the beautiful hydrangeas growing everywhere. Mainly around the grass field where the space for the house to be built was located.

-I've only been here twice since that day. - He looked at her with a serious look. - Once on the day I bought the property and had the wall built, and the other on the day I hired a gardener to take care of everything.

Aemond couldn't help but smile as he slowly saw Y/n's amazed gaze as she looked in all directions, admiring the beautiful place that had once been so common to her eyes.

Just as they always did in the past, the two joined hands and walked side by side to a large tree and sat in the shade, surrounded by several very well-kept hydrangeas. They had barely sat down when Y/n leaned over to hug Aemond, who was leaving the wooden box on the grass. In the middle of the hug, she began to speak, her lips on the older man's chest.

-I'm sorry, Aemond. - She sniffed lightly. - I should have told you how I was feeling, I didn't want to feel this way but… I was so angry with you for this whole situation. For everything that happened, it wasn't your fault, but I felt it. - Y/n took a deep breath before continuing to speak.

-The only thing I could think about was how much I loved you and how much you had moved on without me and forgotten me in the years that passed. - The youngest couldn't lift her head and look him in the eyes, feeling so ashamed of such thoughts now that she knew better.

-I would never do that. - Aemond lifted Y/n's chin, looking very serious. - I swear I tried to convince them to bring you home, I swear Y/n. I offered to stay in your place, to go study in the north… I… I would do anything to have you back.

-Helaena told me what happened after I left. - She looked at him from under her eyelashes with an extremely low tone of voice.

-How much did she tell you? - A resigned sigh left Aemond's lips.

-Not much. - Y/n shrugged, still looking at him in that same way.

-My mother offered me a deal after you left. - Aemond began in a low voice, determined not to hide anything from her anymore. - If I had a weekly conversation with the septon, she might reconsider your departure.

-Conversation with the septon? - Y/n raised an eyebrow at her cousin in disbelief.

-It was more like a weekly purification ritual. - He smiled melancholy without being able to look her in the eyes, the mere mention of those moments making him feel disgusted.

- I didn't want you to know about that. - Aemond murmured, still with his head down. - I didn't want you to think that for a moment I wanted to purify myself of something we did, I didn't want you to feel sad for me when you've already been through so much worse.

With tears in her eyes, Y/n slowly pulled him towards her, making Aemond lean towards her at the same time, eager for the gentle touch he missed so much. The youngest hugged him tightly, tangling her hands in his silver hair, almost losing her breath when she felt Aemond return the hug with the same intensity.

-It's okay Aem. - She whispered to him gently as she carefully stroked his hair. -I'm here with you.

-Let's not hide things from each other anymore. - He murmured, stroking her hair gently. - Let's always be honest about our feelings.

Y/n felt a pang in her chest when she heard that, an overwhelming feeling of fear climbing up her spine and completely freezing her back. For a moment she held her breath, biting her tongue and cheeks lightly, feeling unable to say what she had to say with such a strong wave of fear overwhelming her. And then her mother's voice seemed to whisper again in her ear.

"Royces don't run like cowards!"

-Courage - Y/n whispered softly to herself almost in a sigh as she clenched her fists tightly, making Aemond frown.

-Are you okay? -He asked against her hair, gently inhaling the scent of shampoo in the process as he gently stroked her arms.

-I need… I need to tell you something. - Y/n began with a trembling voice, feeling smaller every moment as she shrank more and more against her cousin. -Please Aem… don't… -She held her breath momentarily before speaking, her eyes suddenly looking opaque. - Don't look at me differently after that.

-What? - He hugged her protectively while displaying a confused expression, practically sighing the words against her hair. - Not in a million years would I look at you any differently than I am looking at you now.

The youngest shuddered when she heard those vows, breathing deeply through trembling lips as she tried to utter the words that hurt her so much, like a thorn in her chest that had never been removed. Slowly all the feelings from that night five years ago returned to her. The anguish, the fear, the pain… she could almost hear her own screams amid the septa's furious words as she dragged her to the infirmary. And after all that, the purest terror and despair she had ever felt in her life when she found out what was happening.

-I was pregnant when they took me away. - Y/n finally whispered against Aemond's chest as tears ran down her face.

The older man's expression slowly fell as the words hit him. At that moment, it was as if Aemond felt his own heart freezing in his chest, along with a sick feeling in his stomach that made him feel like he was going to vomit.

-Pregnant? - He whispered, his lips suddenly starting to tremble.

-A month that night, probably. - She sobbed harder, clinging tighter and tighter to Aemond, who held her tighter and tighter against his chest, staring blankly as he felt his vision gradually blur. - It must have happened before your trip to the Vale.

The moment Y/n said that, a bitter taste filled Aemond's mouth, the clear memory of the night in Driftmark where the two of them had snuck into the room, but before anything else, the younger woman took the antibiotic for the throat infection.

He should have been more attentive, he should have paid attention to that small detail, but as always, Y/n's mere presence drove him crazy to the point of forgetting even his own name, let alone things that at the time seemed so insignificant compared to the joy he found next to her soft body.

And now Y/n was there, with her head buried in his chest, sobbing in pain. Aemond didn't need to ask her what had happened to know, but he needed to hear, he needed to hear it from her lips so that his troubled mind could believe.

-Wh-what happened? - He asked after a few moments gathering courage, uttering the words with tears in his eyes, his voice trembling and stuttering as he hugged Y/n.

-It was my fault. - She cried even more as she bit her lips to try to contain her sobs of pain and pressed her eyes shut. - I didn't know… I didn't know I was pregnant. - She looked into his eyes and Aemond felt his own heart break into pieces with the pain he saw in her.

-I stopped eating as soon as I arrived in Oldtown. - She sniffed, trying to breathe through her tears, barely able to speak without sobbing. - I didn't leave the room, I barely drank any water.

-The doctor said my body was too weak to… to… keep the baby. - She collapsed into his arms at that moment amidst her sobs, feeling as if the dam of repressed pain that she had been filling for years had irreparably broken, and Aemond held her even though he wanted to fall too upon hearing all that, each word a knife to his heart.

-She said it was a miscarriage. - Y/n finally murmured the words minutes later, her gaze lost as the sun lowered on the horizon more and more. Tears ran freely down her face, her red and swollen eyes slightly out of focus, as if she were suddenly reliving that horrible moment.

-It was almost eight weeks when it happened. - Y/n sobbed, pressing her eyes shut as if that would ease the traumatic memories. -It hurt so much and I cried so much, but not because of the pain, but because I was losing him.

Aemond felt his throat close up as he heard that, the memory of the dream he had had on the night of the storm coming back to him vividly. The crying from Y/n, the screams of despair as she called out to him, the pain he saw in her blood red eyes. She was losing him that night, losing their child. Tears inevitably ran down Aemond's cheeks at that moment, as he tried to process all of that.

-The septas kept repeating how horrible I was in the eyes of the gods for being pregnant before I was married. - Y/n laughed sadly as more tears rolled down and she looked away from Aemond again, unable to bear to see him cry. - And all I could think about was how things should have been, how our baby should be born and how you should at least know about him.

Aemond had never felt so small and powerless in his life, not even when Y/n had to leave, deep in his heart and soul he knew he would have her back one day. But this was different, it was irreversible. This pain was irreversible, he could never fix what happened, he could never meet his lost child, he could never take away from Y/n the tragedy she had been through.

-Remember what I told you in Lys that they had forbidden me from going on excursions to the city? - Y/n muttered very quietly, looking at her hands and feeling her head hurt a little. - A few months later, when I was allowed to go on my first excursion, I ran away and tried to call you. - She sniffed, lifting her head briefly to look at him. - That was why. To tell you what… what had happened.

-But one of the girls saw and told the septa. - She spoke in a bitter voice, squeezing her own arm tighter. - They never let me leave after that.

-Bastards… - Aemond growled angrily, his eyes burning with fury and tears as he pulled Y/n to him again and pressed his body to hers even harder than before, feeling the coppery taste on his lips. The memory was still fresh of the Septa telling Helaena that Y/n was fine and being very well taken care of. - Damn bastards.

-I swore I would tell you as soon as I found you. - The youngest moved away from him a little to look at him, her eyes still full of tears making Aemond's pain and anger for everything that happened triple.

-But when I saw you again… I couldn't tell you. - She covered her face as if she felt ashamed. - Cause it was all my fault! - Y/n practically squeaked against her hands. - What a shit mother I am, I couldn't even keep our child and… and… - She sobbed, feeling her heart compressing in her chest.

-Don't ever say that again. - Aemond held her face firmly between his hands, looking at her very seriously, while a tear ran down his cheek. - None of this was your fault. Nothing.

-Look me in the eyes, love. - He asked in a sad voice and Y/n obeyed a little shakily, breathing deeply and trying to regain control over her own emotions while feeling Aemond's gaze upon her. Her skin crawled as she looked straight into his eyes and saw all the pain that she so wanted to avoid was printed there, but along with that pain she could clearly see the purest love that had always shone every time Aemond looked at her. - I'm sorry for not being with you at this horrible time, I really am. We were supposed to be together. But you need to know you didn't do anything wrong.

Y/n felt more tears running down her face as she looked at the older man, absorbing every word he said.

-You would never intentionally hurt our child. - He caressed her cheek with his thumb, his voice full of a mixture of pain and conviction, Y/n laid her face against his palm feeling her own breathing calm down.

-It still hurts, Aem. - She confessed with a choked voice full of emotion. - I buried all of this inside me for years, so it wouldn't hurt so much and I could handle it. - She gasped. - But it still hurts…

The two of them hugged for what seemed like hours, watching the sun descend closer and closer to the horizon, while its golden light illuminated them softly.

-I-I had to take an elective class at college. - Aemond spoke with a slow and shaky voice, randomly after a few minutes. - I was so tired of everything that I missed the deadlines and ended up taking biology…

Y/n frowned in confusion upon hearing that, subtly tilting her head to the side, trying to understand the older man.

-In one of the classes we learned about something… fetal microchimerism. - He looked at her very seriously, wrapping his hands between hers and gently frowning. - It's something that happens during pregnancy, with the mother's and baby's cells.

-The two share each other's cells, and even with the abortion, in a way… - Aemond gave Y/n a small, melancholic smile, slowly leaning his forehead against hers. - The child remains with the mother forever.

Y/n's heart little by little began to flutter in her chest with each word Aemond said. And when he finally finished, she could barely breathe with the idea that a part, even a small one, of her long-lost baby, lived with her. An innocent and sincere smile appeared on the girl's lips and for a few moments she just stood there processing that information.

-I don't want to forget him, Aem. - She finally sighed with her eyes closed. - Never.

Hearing Y/n say that, Aemond got up from the lawn, carefully letting go of his cousin and leaving a kiss against her hair in the process. With just one look she understood that she should wait there, so she just watched him walk through the trees, returning moments later carrying some stones in his arms, making the youngest look at him confused.

-We need to say goodbye to him appropriately. - Aemond whispered, crouching down in front of her with a sad look. - Even if he didn't really come into this world. - He smiled melancholically at her who sniffed, staring at the rounded stones in his arms.

There was no body for the two to burn, as was common in the Targaryen family over the centuries, but just like the Royce tradition they could make a tomb of stones. Even if symbolic. Even if just to remember.

With a sigh Y/n got up from the ground, taking some of the stones from Aemond's arms, dividing the heavy load between the two. Side by side they walked to a small clump of colorful flowers at a slow pace, breathing deeply the sweet scent of the meadow as they looked at each other.

-This looks like a good place. - Aemond's voice sounded solemn amidst the cheerful humming of the birds around, making Y/n nod positively with her head looking at the beautiful flowers.

With an almost reverent care the two distributed the stones together, placing them one by one until they organized a firm pile that stood out among the flowers. With each stone placed Y/n felt lighter, as if those stones had all been piled on top of her for the last five years and now they were finally being removed.

Slowly a smile appeared on Y/n's lips as she placed the last stone in place, looking at the small monument with affection and letting a tear fall, she brought her right hand to her lips, kissing the tips of her fingers and then placing it on the stones, while she felt Aemond hug her with tenderness and affection.

The older man's heart ached with each movement, watching each of his cousin's reactions carefully, and even in the midst of the pain of saying goodbye to a being he had never met, a sweet relief warmed his soul when he saw the peaceful expression on Y/n's face at the end of her simple tribute.

-I always kept asking myself, what if this happened because I shouldn't be a mother? - Y/n whispered one of her greatest fears out loud for the first time as she looked at the stones and felt the cool wind slowly dry the salty tears on her face. - What if this was a warning from the gods to me?

-You will be the best mother this world has ever seen. - Aemond turned and smiled melancholy at her, carefully bringing his right hand to the younger girl's face, who sniffed in return, smiling slightly.

-You will have a peaceful pregnancy, with me by your side taking care of you, as it should be. - He gently wiped her face, which was still damp with tears, with the tips of his thumbs, with each word Aemond said, Y/n's heart warmed.

-I'm sorry for not protecting you back then, for not protecting you both. - He murmured in a pained voice, staring into her eyes while holding her face between his palms.

-But things are different now, darling. - He gently brushed his nose against hers. - I promise you they are, and that I will never let anyone hurt you again. - Aemond pressed his eyes tightly as he spoke, his jaw clenched as if the mere idea of ​​Y/n getting hurt again caused him pain. - That I will take care of you, protect you and give you the life I promised you. The life we ​​both dreamed of.

With the last words he left a slow and chaste kiss on her lips. Holding the youngest's locks of hair firmly between his fingers, sealing that promise in the best way he could, making Y/n almost float out of her own body, only being pulled back to reality when their lips parted.

The increasingly golden rays of the sunset made the beautiful meadow practically shine under Y/n and Aemond's eyes. The flowers seemed even more beautiful through that light, and with a last breath before they walked away, the youngest leaned over and picked a beautiful blue Hydrangea, placing that flower on the small tribute made to her lost child.

Maybe Y/n would never get over that pain, maybe she would live with it forever, but for some reason the crushing guilt of having failed seemed to lift from her shoulders, slowly dissipating like the clouds in the orange sky of Kings Landing. With a final sigh she turned around, finding Aemond's outstretched hand in front of her, and smiling peacefully, she took his hand, following him back to the large tree where they had sat in the shade earlier.

As they walked, the sound of the birds seemed to get louder, as did the sweet scent of the flowers and grass, which seemed to become more and more pronounced. The cool breeze of the wind caressed both of their skins, and Y/n couldn't help but smile at the sight of Aemond's beautiful silver hair flying against the wind.

When the two finally sat down again under the tree, Y/n's eyes strayed to the wooden box that Aemond had brought with him, suddenly curious again.

-I… - Aemond murmured hesitantly. - I kept a lot of our things. - He caressed the lid of the box with his fingertips as he spoke. - I clung to every little thing that reminded me of you to keep me alive.

-I know you kept it. - Y/n murmured back, feeling her cheeks heating up instantly, lowering her gaze. - I opened the trunk when I was at your apartment yesterday.

-Were you the one who opened the trunk? - For a moment, relief threatened to bloom in Aemond's chest at the idea that it hadn't been his mother, and that all the memories he had kept so carefully for years hadn't been tainted by his mother.

-Yeah. - Y/n smiled shyly, still embarrassed for having gone through Aemond's things without permission, even though many of those things were hers too. But little by little the smile faltered on her lips as she remembered what had happened between her and Alicent the previous afternoon. The contempt in the woman's eyes as she spoke each cruel word to her.

-Y/n? - Aemond's voice called her carefully while stroking her hand. - What happened in my apartment yesterday?

She looked at him confused from under her eyelashes when she heard the question, feeling the older man's warm touch soothing her.

-I know my mother was there. - He concluded with a much more serious look, clenching his jaw as he spoke, fearing what could have happened to have shaken the youngest in the way he had seen. - What did she say to you?

-She was… unnecessarily cruel. - Y/n muttered with a hesitant voice, but with her eyes filled with a subtle glint of fury. - Basically, she blamed me for everything wrong that had ever happened in your life so far.

Aemond's chest burned with anger when he heard that and he squeezed Y/n's hands more firmly between his.

-Listen to me now. - He growled with a firm gaze, his eyes slightly wide and his nostrils subtly flared. - I don't regret any decision I've ever made involving being by your side. The consequences of my mistakes are mine, not yours or anyone else's, Y/n. You understand? - Aemond asked seriously and she nodded slowly without looking away.

-Good. - He murmured, nodding subtly, but still with the thought of his mother blaming Y/n tormenting him, especially after the pain of betrayal that burned in his stomach for what she had caused. For what she had made them lose.

-I can already see her mentioning that stupid incident with the dog… - Aemond muttered angrily. - We were children, Balerion bit me, it could have been any of us. - He grumbled, rolling his eyes. - Even Aegon, Helaena or Daeron.

-But it was you. - Y/n arched her eyebrows, carefully stroking the place where she knew the scar was under Aemond's clothes, the guilt for what had happened not yet having completely left her.

-Yes, that was me! - He stared at Y/n, shoving his hands through her hair as he spoke. - Because I love you and I would rather die than see you hurting yourself if I could avoid it.

-You know your mother won't accept this, don't you? - Y/n stared back at him, concern written all over her face.

-I don't give a damn about what my mother, my grandfather or any of those vultures in the press think. - He growled, pressing his forehead against Y/n's. - No matter what they say, we were both meant to be, meant to be together. And I will never give up on us.

The youngest's heart fluttered incomparably when she heard that, beating so hard she thought it would come out of her mouth. Overcome by the euphoria that only Aemond could cause her, Y/n closed the distance between them, kissing the older man on the lips with praise, tangling her hands in his silky silver hair just as he tangled his own hands in hers.

-I have something to give you back. - Aemond sighed against her lips as they broke the kiss, still with his eyes closed. Without waiting for Y/n's response, he reached into his pants pocket, taking out the sapphire pendant necklace that he had carried with an amulet for the past few days, watching the younger woman's eyes shine with joy as they landed on the beautiful silver jewel.

Without saying a word, Y/n slowly turned around and lifted her hair, exposing her neck. For a moment she caught her breath as she felt Aemond's warm touch mixed with the familiar cold of the metal against her neck. The weight of the necklace fit her perfectly, not feeling heavy like the diamond necklace she had worn to the charity ball, but rather ideal, like a part of herself.

-Thank you, Aem. - She sighed with a smile, leaving a peck on his lips, holding the beautiful blue pendant between her fingers and looking at it right away.

Aemond smiled sideways, feeling his chest burn when he saw her again with the necklace around her neck.

-It worked, you know? - She rolled her eyes, still looking at the pendant with affection. - I always thought of you when I looked at the necklace. It brought me hope on bad days, made me believe that one day… things would be okay.

-I have one more thing to give you. - He murmured, leaning over and leaving a kiss on her shoulder.

Under Y/n's curious gaze, Aemond picked up the wooden box on the grass, carefully opening it and taking out a small black velvet box. The youngest immediately felt her heart palpitate in her chest, and her stomach freeze at the same moment, bringing her right hand to her mouth, biting the soft skin of her index finger gently while looking at Aemond with her wide, shining eyes.

-I bought this some time ago. - He murmured, leaving the wooden box against the grass once more and looking in Y/n's direction with a small smile on his lips. - More precisely, a year after you left, I thought about going to Old Town and taking you away from that place, but there was no way I could do that.

Aemond held the velvet box tightly between his fingers and Y/n could barely breathe as she stared at him at that moment. All sound around them seemed to have disappeared, not even the wind seemed to make a sound against the leaves. It was just the two of them under the almost setting light of the sun on the horizon.

-So I waited. - Aemond continued with a firm and low voice, caressing the velvet of the box between his hands. -I waited for your return during each of the days we spent apart, I would wait for you for another five years, or a lifetime if necessary, as long as you are mine forever. - He stared at her with a raw and sincere look at each word spoken.

-I can see that the more time passed, the more I lost control over everything, over myself and over my life. - He sighed resignedly, swallowing dryly for a moment and closing his eyes.

-But Y/n, you are my destiny! The only one I want today, tomorrow and always is you. Only you! - He practically growled as he knelt before her who was still sitting staring at him with teary eyes.

-If the stars don't align of their own accord, then I will align them all myself. - He growled, holding her hands between his and squeezing them. - But I will never… never again, let them separate us again. That's a promise!

-Then please say you'll be mine forever. - He opened the velvet box and a hot tear of pure joy and emotion ran down Y/n's cheek as she smiled uncontrollably at the sight of the beautiful silver ring with designs that resembled two intertwining vines and a beautiful sapphire stone adorning it in the center.

Not even when Aegon convinced her to ride the roller coaster at Casterly Rock, Y/n felt so many butterflies flying in her stomach at that moment. Never in her life could she remember her heart beating so fast. Nothing she had ever felt before compared to the feeling of seeing Aemond on his knees with that velvet box in his hands, staring at her with that passionate look in his eyes.

Feeling his heart burn with emotion at the sight of the youngest's eyes shining with expectation, Aemond finally uttered the words he had waited his whole life to say.

-Marry me, Y/n. - His voice sounded firm even in the midst of the raw nervousness he felt, and his eyes couldn't move away from Y/n's, who looked at him with a glow of happiness so deep that it almost eclipsed the sun itself.

The moment the older man closed his mouth after pronouncing the proposal, Y/n had already jumped on him and knocked him onto the grass, kissing him passionately as she tried to nod her head positively, barely managing to stop smiling amidst the kisses.

Aemond's silver hair spread across the grass like a halo. While Y/n's joyful laughter invaded the clearing, seeming to echo along with the wind, replacing the sad sobs from earlier.

-Yes. - She exclaimed with that innocent joy that Aemond loved so much in her, her beautiful skin seeming to shine under the last rays of golden sunlight. - I will marry you! - She smiled, sitting on his belly with both hands resting on her chest to keep herself steady.

-That's all I want most in my life, Aemond! - She laughed emotionally, leaning forward and brushing her lips against his as she said this.

With relief almost overflowing from his eyes, Aemond held her by the waist and sat down on the grass with Y/n still on top of him. His eyes glistened with tears as he took the ring out of the box and placed it on Y/n's trembling ring finger, whose eyes burned with anticipation as she bit her lower lip, looking at her own finger, feeling herself shiver at the soft touch of Aemond's lips on the ring as he looked at her from under his eyelashes with affection.

In pure devotion, Y/n plunged her fingers into Aemond's hair, almost pulling him by the ears in a new passionate and happy kiss. Hardly able to believe that this was real, hardly able to believe what was in front of her. Leaving her forehead pressed against his as she breathed deeply, closing her eyes and trying to convince herself that it was really real.

-Did you like the ring? - Aemond smiled against her lips, leaving a kiss as sweet and soft as possible in the process.

-More than anything. - She smiled back, opening her eyes again and looking at him as she reached out her hand to admire the beautiful ring with affection. - It's perfect in every detail.

-That's good, because I chose the stone to match something very special. - He murmured, tilting his head and leaving a kiss on the necklace that rested again in its rightful place on Y/n's neck.

-You really did well on that one, sir. - She sighed at the sweet sensation of Aemond's lips against her neck, the smile not leaving her lips as he gently caressed her hair. - Because this is the most beautiful ring I've ever seen in my life and it will match practically everything.

-That's because it was made with you in mind, my lady. - Aemond smiled against her neck, leaving another gentle kiss there, making Y/n squirm in his arms. - I chose the stone. - He left a chaste kiss on her ear. - And the model personally. - He kissed her temple, gently nuzzling his nose into her hair. - Everything thinking about you.

-I love you Aemond. - She whispered, leaving a kiss against his jaw. - I love you so much.

-I love you too, my dear. - He murmured against her hair, smiling slightly amid the hug.

-Will you never let me go again? - Y/n frowned, almost gasping the words.

-Never. - Aemond promised in a whisper, holding her even tighter against himself. - Never again.

Visenya Hills already had its bright lights from the sept of Baelor lit, illuminating everything in a long distance. The birds had already stopped their singing, and the only sound present there was that of the owls, the wind and the occasional car passing by on the road.

Darkness had already taken over the meadow, and the only thing that illuminated them was the moonlight, but Y/n would not fear, she would not fear anything as long as Aemond kept his arms around her, protecting her from everything and guaranteeing her his most precious possession, his love.

❦❦❦

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @zenka69 @callsignwidow @amanda08319 @alesswift-blog @marialikescherries @palomavz

A/n²: I wrote and rewrote the final scene about a thousand times, it took me about two weeks alone. I hope it was up to par, and the music also helped a lot in the creation. If you want to listen to Die for You by Starset, I highly recommend it because it's a new perspective from Aemond's perspective on everything.❤️‍🩹

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, give me feedback, I'm very happy to read your thoughts on the story! Thank you to everyone who read this far! 💕💕💕💖

[fartcushion]

Mile High Sub

You stowed your bag in the overhead compartment and sat down in your seat. Glad to finally be settled after being stuck in the airport for near 3 hours, uncomfortable and bored. Other than the occasional stand to let your neighbours take their seats, window and middle, you were finally able to begin to relax.

Scrolling the film selections to pick out what you might watch on the journey, struggling with the poor selection, you started to watch the cabin crew get ready for take off. You hadn't noticed one of them when boarding, but you had certainty noticed him now!

The man was walking down the aisle checking the over head compartments. His face was stern looking, not like the overly polite air stewards you were used to. His beard was trimmed and styled immaculately. Kept short, with fades and cut lines. He could have been a model. His brown skin was complimented by the colours of the uniform; a cream shirt, chocolate brown trousers and waistcoat, with burnt orange accents.

The uniform itself you noticed must have been at least one size too small for this man. His tree trunk legs were risking splitting the sides of the trousers, the shirt showed off his impressive biceps and the waistcoat held taught. As he neared your seat you knew you had to check out the back. A man this built in clothes like this, that ass was going to be worth a look.

As he got to your compartment you first checked out the bulge. He'd obviously made sure to not be too on display, but there was a meaty package bundled in the front. But as expected the ass was the main show. When he moved to the next compartment you followed him. That ass was godly. The trousers, struggling with the thighs were pulled taught across his huge globes. The clothes you realised must have been tailored, because despite the tightness, there was enough material to fully envelop both cheeks and go right up his crack. You could only imagine how those trousers would smell after this 10hr flight.

The sight was worth the look, but too late you realised he'd stalled at the next compartment to fix something and in doing so had caught you looking. As you glanced up you caught his look. He gave nothing away; no potential anger, flattery of the attention, nothing. Quickly you sat back in your chair and started tapping at the screen, pretending to pick up your film search. You could hear he'd started to move on and you relaxed again. That was too close.

You made sure to avoid eye contact as he carried out that rest of the checks and before you knew it it was time for take off. You did have to watch him do the safety announcements which was awkward, but he never once looked at you and was ever the professional. Assured he'd not taken offence you relaxed again and tried to settle in to a film.

After about an hour the crew started to run down the plane handing out meals to those who'd order special options; vegetarian, halal, etc. You took the opportunity to enjoy as he waddled his ass up and down the aisle. On the next one he stopped at your row, and started speaking to the lady next to the window. He leant forward to hand her meal, his bulk forced you to lean back to give him space. His size was so imposing and you could feel his natural authority seeping from him.

As he straightened back up you followed him with your eyes, and they fell upon his name badge where it read, 'Amir'. You then met his eyes. He lingered for a moment, towering over you staring down as if assessing you. Before walking off. Heart racing you tried to stay calm, and more importantly hide the erection that was growing.

A short while passed and you could see him now working on the main meal service. Walking backwards pulling the trolley, joking with a colleague who was on the other side pushing. They served meals to the passengers ahead, working their way down the plane. Once they got to the rows just in front you were treated to his ass inches from your face. Turning this way and that as he handed out meals, you got to see it from all angles. You tried not to stare having been caught once, but you couldn't resist.

The chatter from Amir and the other steward grew louder and you looked up to see them both laughing. You didn't understand what was being said in the language, but the other steward looked at you then back to Amir and nodded. Amir said something and they both laughed.

While getting something from the trolley, Amir bent forward pushing his ass out and towards you. You didn't hear anything, but a second later you smelt it. Covered by the smell of the plane food that was being released with each meal lid pealed off, Amir had released a silent fart in your face. He said something in his language to his colleagues and they both burst out laughing.

Your cheeks turned red. It was unbelievable what had happened. Should you tell someone? But who? And say what, that you, a grown man, had been farted on by another man. It was too embarrassing.

Amir turned to you, the laughter gone and the imperceptible face returned. He asked your neighbour what meal option they wanted and handed it over. The moment of dread came, when you'd have to speak. But instead of asking the question to you, Amir placed a tray in front of you.

"...what... is it?"

His tone was cordial. "It's your special dietary meal".

"Oh I didn't order anything, I can just have the regular chicken."

"This was prepared especially for you". The tone never changed but his eyes bore in to you, as if daring you to challenge him further.

"So-sorry. Thank you."

The two stewards laughed as they moved on, saying something you couldn't understand.

Looking at the meal you knew something had been done. The water bottle had been opened, could he have spit in it? The foil lid had been put back but you were sure it had been lifted, what had been done there? The bread roll, looked as if it had been squashed. Maybe sat on. You gave the food a sniff. The strong smell of all the airplane food made it had to detect anything, but you were positive you caught the faintest hint of a familiar smell, of Amir's fart.

[mapofyourstars]

imagine if in dofp Charles dies because he overdosed and Erik only finds out years later after he breaks out of prison

he shows up to the mansion completely empty because Hank couldn’t bare living in that place anymore

Erik finds Charles’ grave in the backyard

couldn't get this out of my mind, so have 747 words of pure angst. you're welcome.

The metal of the wide gates rung out to Erik, the bent rod iron vibrating at his presence, being pulled to him as he approached the drive. The front entrance looked slightly overgrown, the shining emblem of the manor-turned-school obstructed on its edges by vines; but much like he changed, so did this place. Despite time punctuated by before prison and after prison, Erik felt as if he never left. His hand brushed against the lock, and it bent to his will; he swung the gates open, shutting them firmly behind him and beginning up the gravel path.

The greenery lining the drive cascaded onto the stones, and the bushes alongside the walls of the manor produced climbing growth, trailing up and around the bricks. As Erik approached the front doors, he stretched his abilities to cover the manor, winding their way through the various metals scattered throughout. The structure felt the same, Erik recognizing the crack in one of the roof beams, the old piping well past retirement, the pots and pans in the kitchen, and the metal-lined chess pieces still in their familiar spot. A pang of regret resonated in his chest, and Erik took to the front steps faster.

The front door swung open as he approached it, and the sun's orange rays shown down on the foyer, the light twinkling from the stain glass high up on the staircase. The door shut behind him with resounding finality, and Erik simply stood. The tendrils of his abilities narrowed further reached for whatever movement they could find. Quickly finding the place Hank called his own, Erik patiently waited for a pen to move or a staple on a stack of papers to shift; but the metal stayed frozen in place. Erik drifted to another familiar space, aching to sense similar movement in the office in which he spent most of his time; but yet again, he found rigidity, the metal cold. Finally, he shifted his attention to the room he feared the most – feared the emotional and passionate memories formed behind those walls – and Erik pushed back against the metal he felt, as if scalded.

In the middle of the room sat a wheelchair – his wheelchair – full of metal and moving parts that Erik memorized body and soul the day he returned after the incident. Erik never expected to be let in, but the balcony doors were opened for him; and his heart was laid bare that night, two bodies moving as one in new yet familiar ways. He stayed only for the night, vowing to return, to make up for his mistakes; but he never did. And fate was cruel and pushed Erik further from what he wanted and tossed him into a cell, forced to suffer in his mental prison day in and day out.

Feeling his chair, feeling the frigid metal, Erik's heart beat quickened, and the metal within the foyer started to quiver. He fought to hold his abilities in, but Erik couldn't shake the growing feeling inside that something was wrong. He stretched himself further, travelling beyond the walls of the manor and out to the backyard, the gardens, beyond. Most felt similar, but one area was changed. The ground was disturbed under one of the large trees past the rose garden, the metallic bits in the soil slotted together differently than the surrounding area.

The walk to the backdoor felt long; and the walk through the back garden felt even more arduous. Erik resisted the urge to run, still taking in his surroundings; and the garden, once well-kept and trim, grew wildly. Paired with the front walk and the empty rooms, a pit burrowed in Erik's stomach as he approached the shade of the tree. His eyes fell on the small, carved stone sticking out of the ground, the disturbed soil in front of it; and Erik dropped to his knees, his shaking hand touching the smooth stone.

Charles Xavier Teacher, Leader, Friend Rest now

A tear dropped to the ground, then another, and another; and blinding anger and sorrow raged in Erik's mind. The sound of metal warping and bending echoed behind him; and the manor rattled as its metal twisted towards the gravestone. Across the table in the room housing the wheelchair that blinded him slid a syringe, its needle red hot. Erik collapsed forward, gasping for air; and he wrapped his abilities around the wheelchair, aching to feel the warmth of Charles' mind one more time.