#and so many concepts floating around my head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

getitoutofmymindwrites · 7 months ago

Text

The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

previous |

FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

previous |

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

746 notes · View notes

serxinns · 18 days ago

Text

♡GAME SHOW☆

Yandere class 1a x reader imagine or something idk..

A/n: I wanted to make a part 2 or silly scenario of this fic imagining any possibility

DISCLAIMER: The concept and idea is NOT mine this idea belongs to @lady-ashfade and the divder is by @kimjiho1 please go check out their channel and theit work if you want to support her and want the context of this fic thank you!

Summary: there's only a ticket to f/s, and only one classmate can go... so how do they solve this...WITH A GAME SHOW OFC!

“What, which one of us gets to go…” everyone paused and stared at each other you felt the tension of everyone ready to rip their heads off over this opportunity to finally be alone with you "Maybe I should-" Izuku was cut off by Bakugo and towards you "I HELPED THEM GET THE MOST CANDY I SHOULD GO!" He yelled, "But we won, and I floated around the candy bags when they were getting heavy! I should go, right, sweetie?" Ochako looked at you with pleading eyes as she held your arm tight

"you guys only got them at the last minute, plus mi amor, I made up the plan of working together! I should go!" Sero protested while the dekusquad and his squad were glaring at him. "Sero, you're betraying us?! That isn't manly!" Kirishima pouted, looking at his friend. "Oh, quiet; you would've done the same thing for that extra ticket!" Tokoyami added, earning a glare from the red-haired male. Everyone else started butting heads and joining in fighting about who gets the tickets while they grabbed ahold of you

"Hey can't everyone just calm down!" you said annoyed with their antics but it seemed like nobody heard you, you groaned, you already had to deal with 20-plus students tugging you into their group to trick or treat with them while they tried to talk flirt, showing affection or just want your attention everyone was getting louder as if they were roving up their quirks to attack

"Everyone STOP!!" Everyone stopped in their tracks and backed away from each other looking at you "I will think about it overnight then I'll say my answer tomorrow at the end of the day just stop fighting it's getting late anyway" the class grumbled to themselves sending glares and slides remarks and headed to their dorms for the night

You lie in your bed wondering who to choose to stare at the tickets the dekusquad gave you, the dekusquad did win with Ochako floating us around the town (and side hugging you while carrying a bag of candy in the other hand) Iida, todoroki, and izuku zooming through each house with their quirks and tsuyu grabbing the candy in her tongue they all worked so hard but the bakusquad was also the reason you got a lot of candy so it wouldn't be fair as well... plus Momo creating extra bags using her quirk when you got tugged away from the deluging

There were so many good choices you just couldn't decide! They were all your friends! And they also helped you out at the contest even if they were overbearing your head was buried in the pillow guilt overcoming you the thought of your classmates feeling sad cause you didn't choose them makes you a bad friend "Maybe...when I wake up I'll probably have an answer.." you thought surely your classmates will be a bit more understanding and patient the next day right?

Oh boy you were, your friends seemed to grow clingy towards you and not to mention more competitive with each other, Iida or Shoji offered you to walk to class with them which caused a bit fit between them, during periods whenever you needed to borrow anything like a pencil or an easer your friends saw it as some sort of challenge or war, jirou or tsuyu trying to offer to carry your stuff even tho you can carry them just fine,

At the cafeteria normally your friends would sit with their certain groups but now they were against each other not even the groups were together hands kept tugging you to their direction insisting you should sit with them it got so bad you couldn't even escape to the roof because hakagure, Mina and Ojiro, were already waiting for you arguing you had to hide in the closet to eat your lunch in peace which sucks

But training was the worst everybody kept trying to interrupt your training and sparring just so they could get your attention shoji and Kirishima flexed their muscles towards you making sure you got a full view, Izuku and Katsuki were tryna beat each other to see who could prove to protect you, tsuyu pretending to teach you some stealthy tricks so she can have a excuse to talk to you more about your favorite show, tokoyami and Mina throwing everything they have on each other for you

And then it was the end of the day and you still couldn't pick anyone Your overbearing classmates drained you so much you forgot all about it, you sighed entering in the common room where everyone's eyes were on you eagerly waiting for your answer "I-I" "do you know who to choose it's me right!" Ojiro came out of nowhere right in your face, his tail wagging a bit. You backed up a bit while everyone glared at him. "Don't be so sure. It's perhaps probably me," Todoroki said nonchalantly. "What makes so sure it's you icy? hot!?" Bakugo added glaring at him

Then everyone started bickering again, claiming that it's gonna be them. You groaned, obviously not knowing what to do. "Quiet!" The class shut up immediately and looked towards where the voice came from. The voice said a tried purple boy walked into the scene, revealing himself and placing his a on your shoulder. "If it can get you to stop screaming at each other, why not battle for it or something?" Shinsou's suggested with a smirk

Everyone looked at each other for a second; Bakugo had a malicious smile." If it'll that will end this, why can't we..." As he said, activating his quirk, you panicked, not wanting another war breaking out or especially one of your friends getting hurt over some tickets. "Or, how about a game show!" You blurt out. Everybody pauses for a second until Hakagure blurts out, "That could be fun! Good idea y/n!" She hugged you tightly as everyone else reluctantly agreed as well

....

"Welcome one and all to the amazing UA high gameshow!!!" The presenter mic announced as the class clapped and cheered determined to win that extra ticket "im your host present mic and tonight these contestants will be fighting for the tickets for f/s!!!" Mic proudly explained with the cheering soundtrack, "Let's meet our contestants! Class 1a!!" The cheering soundtrack came on again showing your friends looking as determined and focused as ever which surprised you a bit

"Now that you met our lovely contestants I'll drop the rules! There will be 4 rounds and a special final round. Each round will contain 5 students; the questions will be based on a certain student, quirk, or even based on your hero studies! Whoever gets the most points before this timer runs out goes to the special round where the winners of the previous rounds answer this special question. If one contestant gets it right, they're the winner!!"

Present mic proudly exclaimed; you turned to notice your friends not acknowledging the loud teacher. Rather, they were glaring at each other as if they were creating threats in their minds. You gulped nervously hoping nothing went to the extreme and they started trying to be at each other's throats again "Are you sure about this they don't look happy.." you showed your concern and Shinso who was also a contestant for fun smirked "it's fine I'm sure they won't try to kill each other in the middle of the game they aren't psychopaths" he joked, you nervously laughed at his humor attempt

Present mic then when in front of the screen "The 1st contestants of this round is... Midoriya Izuku, Uraraka Ochako, Tenya Iida, todoroki Shoto, and tsuyu Asui!" C'mon down!" The cheering soundtrack came on as The 5 classmates went down to their podiums, preparing to adjust themselves "Now, my assistant y/n will read the questions, and if you answer them correctly, you gain 100 points!" He then pushed you to the question podium you nervously waved as your friends were awestruck by your cuteness

As the round one began iida and izuku were answering them pretty well Ochako and todoroki were right behind them with tsuyu having 100 points shorter then the others "ok final question for 300 points...what's one of my abilities my quirk can do?" You asked the sudden button press and it was izuku his other group members glared at him,he without hesitation he replied "you can control the pressure! And control the temperature of the water but you can also-" before he can continue his endless ramblings present mic cut him off "Oh times up! Let's see who gets to go to the special round!"

The screen pull up each of the round 1 students points with tsuyu 600 Ochako 700 todoroki with a 700 iida with 700 and Midoriya with 1000 "looks like izuku Midoriya is heading to the special round!" The cheering soundtrack came on as izuku eyes bleamed he was for sure gonna win this!

"Onto the 2nd round!" Present mic cheered as the soundtrack played, "Our contestants are...Bakugo katsuki, Kirishima ejiou, Hanta Sero, Kaminari Denki, and Asido Mina!" The crowd cheered as they went up the stage Denki winked at you while Mina blew a kiss to you, you chuckled thinking she was just joking, and started the questions, the round was intense both contestants were answering these questions with the best of their abilities and whenever someone buzzes the button bakugo would glare darkly at them

It was tied down to Kirishima and Denki with 500 points, Mina with 700 points, Sero and Bakugo with 800 points again, then there was the last question: "All right, this question is worth 500 points. Whoever gets this correctly wins the 2nd round!" The 5 students were determined, their eyes locked on the screen, their hands hovering over the button. "The last question is if a citizen is giving you a hard time, what do you do?' Kirishima pressed the button 1st, causing everyone to glare, praying that he'd get the answer wrong. "You listen carefully and never argue back or interrupt," he answered. "Correct!" His eyes beamed up

"Congratulations, Kirishima, you will continue into the special round!" Present mic announced while his friends glared at him in jealousy as Kirishima sheepishly smiled. "Sorry guys!" "I'm not sharing my food with you for a week shitty hair bastard!!!" "not cool man!" "Betrayal!!" "Humph!"

As his friends all insult him, all Kirishima could think of was the tickets everyone kept tugging away from him, but not this time. He was so sure gonna win. He just needed a game plan. "Hey y/n, did you see me? I did amazing, didn't I?" You Glace at him and reutned a smile "yes you did! Keep up the good work!" You showed him a thumbs up and he did the same not noticng the jealous glances Kirishima got especially from Midoriya why couldn't you praise him he won too? He wondered

"Alright, listeners, it's time for round 3!" the Present mic announced "In this round, the contestants will be...mezou Shoji, Aoyama Yuga, Momo Yaoyorozu, Jirou Kyouka, and hitoshi shinsou!" The students then came out and went on the game podium all waving at you, Momo looked confident as if she knew she was gonna win this while the others looked determined ready for any questions

Round 3 was all right, nothing to extreme surprise. Momo had a score of 800, Jirou and Koda tied with 700 points, Aoyama with 600, and Shinsou with 500. "All right guys, this answer is worth 500 points!" Everyone's hand was on the buzzer, determined to answer this question: "Who was the 1st period ever recorded to have a quirk, and at what city?" Jirou pressed the button 1st, "Luminescent Baby who lived in Quing Quing City in China." Jirou managed to say, "Correct!" Jirou face lit up once she heard that she's actually going to the next round!

"Congratulations to our winner Kyouka san!" The present mic said, "Great job Jirou!" You cheered giving her a round of applause she blushed at the flattery and praise she thanked you avoiding your gaze everyone else glared in jealousy even momo bit her nail a bit too much

But Jirou was just like the others determined she always wanted to have a quiet evening with you just you she always loved being in your presence even if you don't even know she's there at times so imagining you and her watching your show together, holding hands, and even her confessing her love to you she already got the outfit to wear!

"Now onto the next and final round!" He announced, "Our final contestants are...Ojiro Mashsiro, Koda kouji, Tokoyami fumikage, Hakagure tooru, and Sato Rikido!" The students walled in adjusting themselves on the podium, Hakagure was waving and squealing at you trying to get your attention with dark Shadow waving his hand aggressively while Tokoyami blushed trying to calm himself down, Koda smiled and gave you a small wave, while Ojiro just smiled at you, clearing your throat once again and started the questions

The questions were a bit harder than the previous ones, heck you couldn't even know the answers or were just as confused as the other contestants as they made it to the last question Ojiro and Tokoyami had 700 points following behind was Koda with 600, and Hakagure and Sato with 500 points seriously what's with these ties? "The last question is worth 500 points is everyone ready?" Your classmates all look determined while Koda looks nervous

"What is the value of x when 2x + 3 = 3x – 4?" Koda quickly pressed the button you were suprised a bit since he's usually quiet about it "is it 7...?" You smiled and nodded "yes your correct!" Kodas eyes widen when he realizes he got the answer right

"Congratulations Koda! You're going into the special round!" Present mic cheered everyone else was just as shocked and envy Ojiro gave Koda a Good game! (Even tho he wanted to say something moren sinister) he kept his composer not wanting to act out infront of you, Hakagure whined and glared at Koda who sweat drops while dark shadow was complaining like a kid

"Now, everyone, are we ready for the Special round!" Present mic trying to hype up the class who was in the audience. They awkwardly clapped and secretly glared at them, "Midoriya, Kirishima, Jiro, and Koda, please step up!" Then students step up at the glittery podium labeled "special" Present mic got on his glittery suit as if he was waiting for the opportunity "Was he wearing that the whole time-"

"OK listeners welcome back to the special round!! This round will determine the true winner of the Ua and who will be taking home the f/s ticket! He said as he waved the ticket, "Now, this time, this question will be something from the classwork we worked on, so I hope you pay attention well!" Kirishima felt a sweat running down his face did he even study? He hoped he did. Jirou was a bit nervous but kept her determination; Koda was a whole lotta nervous thinking about the worst-case scenarios and "Is everyone ready? Remember to listen carefully!... what is the name of the young boy who wanted to be doctor Doolittle assistant?" Everyone thought for a moment barely remembering that lesson heck even you couldn't remember

That's when Koda hit the button to answer everyone stared at him intensity as if they were praying he got it wrong "uh...Tommy Stubbins?" Present mic checked the answer the room was getting more tense the longer he didn't say anything you were getting uncomfortable by how the room changes praying he just say the answer already "correct!" Confetti and Streamers rained down on the boy while he's processing what just happened

"Congratulations Kouji san you are the winner!!" Present mic announced as the cheering soundtrack came on "Congratulations koda!" You cheered as the other classmates reactions were mixed some glared jealousy at Koda while others were busy sulking in defeat..they lost their opportunity to be alone with you! But don't worry they'll find other ways~

Bonus: "that was a great show wasn't it!" You said excitingly as you walked out the building Koda looked a bit nervous like something was bothering him "y-yea! It was!" "Are you ok is something bothering you? You been feeling tense all throughout the show?" Koda quickly reassured you that he was fine and the crowd was only making him nervous that was all that made you ease up a bit

"yea it can be overstimulating most of the time you wanna hang out un my room to ease down your nerves?" Koda blushed and nodded taking the opportunity to spend more time with you but the truth is he wasn't nervous about that he was nervous about him and the others getting caught cause of how obvious they were all glaring jealousy at the boy but no matter it was worth it anyway~

171 notes · View notes

ihaveverything · 7 months ago

Text

Limitless manifesting for beginners

ʚ part I - the basic concepts

part II - states, techniques, change

part III - mental diet, sats

part IV - daily life, time

part V - resistance, faith, the ''real'' world

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Many people who first get started on their manifesting journey will come across a variety of sources, explanations, tutorials, techniques, and methods. When faced with all these different options and an abundance of content to apply, it can be quite overwhelming to know exactly what to do. How many times do I affirm a day? What scene should I use for my visualization? What are SATS and how do I do it perfectly? How do I get rid of my wavering? Do I need to fix my self-concept? Why is my 3d not changing? These are all questions that have been floating around the internet, and we all know the short answer is to persist, but people might wonder what’s so effortless in turning a blind eye to the harshest circumstances and putting faith into something you don’t have concrete proof of yet.

4D vs 3D

With the 4D referring to your inner world, your imagination & mind, and the 3D being the familiar physical construct of the reality you know, it’s hard to understand navigating daily life while “living in your head.” One of the biggest fears or doubts people have during their first stage of learning the Law is not knowing how to handle the 3D. A common misunderstanding is that you have to be delusional about your surroundings and completely ignore it. This is extremely difficult to achieve because our logical minds will always be aware of the 3D environment we live in. Being delusional when manifesting an SP might be trying to convince yourself your phone is filled with texts from them when that notification isn’t there. It could also be looking at a completely broke bank account and trying to convince yourself that you’re rich. Another thing about being delusional is that it implies you are avoiding the 3D or unable to acknowledge it since you fear seeing the circumstances that do not align with your desire, either because you believe they will hinder your manifestation, or it pulls you away from your ideal 4D. To avoid or to fear something is often confirmation of a belief you hold. When you view the 3D as a problem or something you cannot face, it means you haven’t been able to find full conviction in knowing you already are the person who has your desire even though you can’t see it yet.

“If you judge after appearances, you will continue to be enslaved by the evidence of your senses.” ― Neville Goddard, Your Faith is Your Fortune.

Manifesting is not about being delusional in an attempt to hide from what you see. It is to see the 3D for what it truly is, merely a reflection of your past states of consciousness, therefore freeing yourself and making new internal selections for the life you wish to experience. It is where you have been dwelling long enough for it to reflect into your individual reality, since it confirms what you assume to be true for your life, but it is not the objective truth as you perceive it to be. Once you change your perception of yourself and completely discard the old beliefs that tie you to the past and present 3D, your whole world will change.

Creation is finished

Another trap people might fall into is constantly worrying about whether their old story is too complicated or difficult to fathom being able to change it. The truth is, it does not matter when your SP blocked you, how long you guys haven’t seen each other, how you’re one week away from being homeless, or if your dream life seems light years away. This is because of one simple concept. Creation is finished. Everything you could possibly desire within reason of our human biology and experience is already promised to us in a different probable reality. There are infinite versions of ourselves and others, and your 3D will move mountains if that is necessary to bring about your desire, but under the condition that you have truly changed yourself first. Do not expect things to change if you have not changed yet.

“Because creation is finished, what you desire already exists. It is excluded from view because you can see only the contents of your own consciousness. It is the function of an assumption to call back the excluded view and restore full vision. It is not the world but your assumptions that change. An assumption brings the invisible into sight. It is nothing more nor less than seeing with the eye of God, i.e.,” ― Neville Goddard, The Power of Awareness

Letting go vs persistence

Let go of the past, lack, desperation, and need. Persist in making the decision that you have your desire, regardless of it being unseen right now. To be honest, no matter how sympathetic people are towards your story, the anger, frustration, heartbreak, and guilt you feel is only reinforcing how you see yourself and your reality. Holding negative feelings towards someone for what they’ve done to you is understandable from the 3D perspective, but it does not benefit anyone if you are going to manifest a behavior change from them. If you are still blaming an SP for blocking you, does that sound like someone who feels as though they are already in a beautiful loving relationship with them?

“Do not waste one moment in regret, for to think feelingly of the mistakes of the past is to reinfect yourself. ‘Let the dead bury the dead’. Turn from appearances and assume the feeling that would be yours were you already the one you wish to be.” ― Neville Goddard, Feeling is the Secret

Going back to the questions mentioned in the first paragraph, it’s important to know that the word “change” is referring to a change in your beliefs and dominant state of awareness. It does not mean an effort based lifestyle change where you feel pressured to affirm or visualize in an unnatural way against your own will. Changing your state is as simple as making a decision each time you think of your desire throughout the day. You are free to change how you think and feel at any moment. It is not the event itself that holds meaning, but your reaction that implies acceptance.

“Man, who is free in his choice, acts from conceptions which he freely, though not always wisely, chooses. All conceivable states are awaiting our choice and occupancy, but no amount of rationalizing will itself yield us the state of consciousness which is the only thing worth seeking.” ― Neville Goddard, Awakened Imagination

It does not matter how many times you affirm or which words you say. You can affirm once a day or 10k a day (please don’t do that though), but if you haven’t changed your beliefs at all, then nothing will happen. Quality over quantity for anything you do. Mental dieting and keeping yourself in check for what thoughts and beliefs you are entertaining has proven to be easier and faster for many people.

source tba

#law of assumption #loa tumblr #loa #loassumption #loa blog #manifesting #neville goddard

282 notes · View notes

felassan · 3 months ago

Text

Thoughts on the new images of the Lighthouse Part 1. DA:TV spoilers under cut.

[Link to Part 2]

general: the Lighthouse looks so cool, it's beautiful �� I can't wait to explore it fully and see the companions' areas change over time.

outside many of the windows are pieces of floating rock and odd architecture, a feature of Fadey scenery.

This can only be Emmrich's room. :) the giant skeleton statue on the left is exactly like the ones in the Necropolis Halls. the hanging lanterns have hexagon shapes, which I've become convinced is part of Nevarra's visual design in this game. the slab-like table in the foreground looks suspiciously like it's meant to hold a corpse/skeleton, and we can see Emmrich doing just that here. the room is filled with lots of flasks and other glass vessels, reminding me of the artbook concept of apron!Emmrich holding a smoking glass flask. I wonder if any of the jars/vases are more like urns and canopic jar kinda deals? there's a big scroll on the desk and lots of books and scrolls everywhere, as you might expect from a scholar and a professor. there's lots of skulls and skull-themed decor everywhere, even affixed to the wooden part of the upper floor, as you might expect from a necromancer. Emmrich really said okay I'm moving in now and my huge collection of skulls is coming with hhh. in the righthand corner of the room it looks like a giant skull (the bottom part of it looks to me like teeth), and on one shelf there's even a ribcage.

do the statue-figures on either side of the fire look like humanoid figures holding their heads in their hands to anyone else, only their heads are like vase-shaped?

maybe he sleeps upstairs somewhere?

the big spiral staircase is beautiful and so is the sunlight beaming in through the windows from above. :) the fireplace looks cozy. in the arches of the windows you can see the curves of ancient elvhen architecture. the view from up there must be so pretty!

This item on the top of one of the shelves caught my eye. I can't place it atm but haven't we seen this shape before?

This room can only be Neve's. :) in the bottom left is a stand with a different leg on it, the same as one of the ones shown in her artbook concept art. there is serpent imagery. I think diamond shapes and pointy objects like the wall-lights are part of the visual language design of Tevinter. the hanging lanterns look magical, a common thing in Tevinter. the rug is pretty and incorporates her turquiosey color palette. on her desk there is a turquoise pot (teapot?) - if you look closely, its coloring and the swirling designs on it are very similar to Neve's teacup here. :) there are various teapots and decanter-type things around the place that she could use for coffee.

it's smart room design, the big ceiling-high windows give the room the impression of a workplace office, like something out of a crime procedural.

Neve's casework wall. wanted posters/mugshots/suspect/missing person (they could be any of these) pictures, lots of notes, papers that look like they could be maps, strings linking together different papers in a clues-board like this meme, papers that it looks like Neve has annotated in red ink while studying them (circling and underlining things). a nice touch is that one or two of the papers are drawings of snowflakes, fitting for an ice mage. :)

I'm curious, what is this and what is it for? Bellara has one of these in her room as well, as does Lucanis (see Part 2).

these hanging objects are also interesting. they look like glass cases containing pieces of parchment on which a snake is drawn.

This room can only be Bellara's. :) it's filled with floating ancient elven magic-tech triangles and in the middle it shows the detached head thing from her artbook concept art. (he looks like if you activated him with the blue crystal or something that he could talk..). the room has a workshop vibe; she has a workbench and a stool, different instruments and gismos, and there's an array of artifacts on the shelves. the orange wall hanging on the right is triangular, flanked by two arrows in the nets and contains the skull of a deer/halla or similar animal. this must represent the Veil Jumpers given that many of them use archery, the triangles and the fact that their faction logo is a deerlike skull. it's a nice touch that even the structure of some of Bellara's furniture, like the sidetable on which the head rests, are triangular in design.

All the picture frames everywhere - are those mirrors? could they have something to do with investigating eluvians, or the network?

this looks like this halla statuette asset from DA:I. :) there's one of these in Taash's room too.

the ancient elven face motif, like on Solas' Trespasser armor and the Temple of Mythal Sentinels' armor.

hanging bone hh?

Left: what is this contraption? the ear is human Center: very ornate box. what's in here? maybe the animals on the top of the lid are stylized mabari? Right: Fereldan mabari banner.

Left: this pattern of walls and the triangle pattern on them is a feature of ancient elven architecture. Right: the way the walls (behind the frames) are designed here, it makes it look like pipes. Bottom: curious that we cannot see the ceiling.. :)

This looks like a sort of magnifying glass or microscope-type thing that would allow her to closely examine things she finds.

What does this do? :D

This (left), along with the head, feels like a focal point in her room. this hanging thing almost looks like a model of a planet or solar system - a planet in the middle, a ring of asteroids or something around it, smaller orbs around the place like moons. we've seen part of something similar before, in the ancient elven ruins in Arlathan Forest in the screenshot on the right. compare these bits; the rings, the paired triangles.

looking at the wider structure of the thing in Bellara's room, it also reminds an awful lot of this place (whatever it is), which even has the ring of rocks going around it.

feels important. :D

I feel like this is Harding's room. :) it's pretty and cute, a nice rustic space (suits her). the simple bedroll under a cloth canopy propped up with some sticks has the vibe of something a shepherd and scout might rig up to rest in when out in the wilds. the pond / water feature transforms it into an outdoorsy, nature-y space, as do the leaf-strewn floors and the plants growing up the walls. there's vegetation everywhere - potted plants and some areas which look like raised planting beds, basically little indoor gardens. this includes windowboxes, flowers and even mushrooms (I know that's fungi. yk what I mean hh). this makes so much sense for Harding - we know she loves nature and plants, and Ali Hillis mentioned that Harding also raises plants. I wonder if as the game progresses, she will grow more plants and the ones she has already will grow some more? like maybe she'll finish planting up the area around the pond the whole way round? and I wonder if her lil pond has fish? that would be so neat. please can I buy some beautiful koi for Harding to put in her pond to raise? also I wonder if any of the things she grows are edible? like imagine Bellara and Lucanis cooking with e.g. salad greens grown and raised here by Ms Harding :D and/or healing herbs we could use in the field?

this plant for example resembles the model for elfroot in DA:I!

I think maybe this is Taash's room. first off, near the middle of the room it looks like a makeshift weights bench, and we know that Taash is a gym bro. the hanging rings nearby that remind me of these. even the 'horizontal ladders' on the ceiling look like you could use them as monkeybars - if you look on the left, there are even ladders in the form of rings protruding from the wall that you could use to climb up there to access them.

even these frame things look like they could be used for some kind of physical workout/climbing situation.

on the table to the left it looks like piles of big coins, fitting for a Lord of Fortune. elsewhere in the room behind the weights bench it looks like there might be some gold bars. in the background is a hammer leaned against a crate.

this crate has her color scheme - the tealy hue, gold pieces and red ropes.

a Qunari symbol, in drapery that has her color palette, the teal with the red ropes. btw, comparing this and its location to the new screenshot of Taash, I think that this banner is the thing in the background that I was talking about here (the "something blue-green"):

in the background to the right is something blue-green with what looks like red rope hanging off it. a belonging of Taash’s? maybe this shot is from a quieter moment, somewhere in the Lighthouse, maybe her space? if you look here (Arlathan, the ruins are ancient elven), it has the same sort of repeating zigzag patterns on the same sort of arch-like curves as here. it makes me think that this shot is set in a room with ancient elven architecture. (and the Lighthouse was Solas’, so it would have ancient elven design).

If you look at the banner with a wider crop you can even see the "arch-like curves" with the zigzag patterns that she's standing in front of in the new screenshot. this area has fire to the left of the arch, which would cast the warm firey glow you can see from stage-left in the new Taash screenshot. so it looks like in the new Taash screenshot she was standing somewhere around here:

And that my guess of the setting of the new Taash screenshot was correct. :D

crate of some kind of weaponry or bones, including a map with a knife I imagine you'd use to mark spots on it with. :) piratey vibe.

clever room design btw, it has the vibe of belowdecks/the bowels of a ship.

horned statue or carving, like an ogre.

Top: the silver shield-like things on the wall have the same sort of scale-mail appearance as Taash's field armor. Bottom: this thing reminds me of a boat in shape. like a small fishing boat or something.

I wonder why Taash has a Grey Warden shield and an eluvian in her room? maybe the shield is just general decor (like the Fereldan banner in Bellara's room? unless Bellara is from Ferelden??). maybe the eluvian ties into why she apparently has some involvement and a strong interest in a main story mission set in the far reaches of Arlathan Forest, as described by Corinne Busche during the second Discord Q&A? -

"I was out in Arlathan, actually doing, on my way to do a main story mission, and I get to the far reaches of Arlathan Forest, and I already knew that Taash wanted to help me with some of the challenges of that arc. Well, Taash is right there waiting for me, so I actually chose to instead like, ah, Taash seems impatient, I’m gonna actually jump on that story arc right now instead of what I intended to do"

And what is this? Looks like a sun or an owl. ^^

I ran out of image allowance on this post so I'll put the rest in another post!

[Link to Part 2]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #solas

127 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

Note

Maybe a drabble in which our Lamb meets Chimaera Reader, the maker of all crowns? Like, he stumbles upon their lair, and sees all types of the crowns, big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed, etc.? Maybe even a little inter actions between the Reader and the Red Crown in which it recognises them as their maker?

Sorry for my English, it is not my native language-

Also sorry if this request repeats, tumblr May have doubled it-

I swear I'm gonna turn this into an OC one day because I LOVE the concept of a crown maker in the COTL universe

........

'Where am I now..?' Lamb pondered as they stepped into a cavern--one most unfamiliar to them.

It was strange, considering they've scoured nearly every corner of the Old Faith for resources, potential rival cult activity, and even martyrs for the Bishops.

But this area was entirely new to them.

With their weapon drawn, they cautiously ventured further inward, eventually arriving into a larger room that was almost entirely cloaked in darkness. They could barely see a thing even with the few torches scattered around lighting the way.

Then suddenly, they saw a bunch of eyes opening up on all sides of them, varying in shape, size, color, and number. And they just stared down at the little sheep.

While they were accustomed to having so many eyes on them, this was completely different.

These eyes certainly didn't belong to any follower of theirs.

What if this was a trap?

What if-?

"Welcome, little Lamb! Promised liberator of the Old Faith!"

Looking upwards, they could see you descending from the darkness. You looked like a tradition chimera: a lion, goat, dragon, and snake all mixed into one. Both of your heads smiled as you took a seat upon your throne, although you frowned a bit upon realizing how poor the lighting must have been.

"Oh forgive me, it is awful dim in here, isn't it? Hold on one moment." Your lion head breathed out a small blast of fire, aimed towards a nearby candle that lit up.

That set off a chain reaction which lit up dozens of other candles around your lair, and burned the torches bright enough for Lamb to see what all those eyes belonged to:

Crowns.

So many crowns.

Big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed..and even multi-eyed; some sported horns and some did not. Others had bare surfaces while others were decorated with jewels or marred with scars from time.

It was an astonishing sight, and when Lamb looked back up at you, they could see a crown on each of your heads--snake tail included.

Not to mention your seat was adorned with four familiar ones...

"So you..take crowns from fallen gods?"

"Do I take them?" You repeated, before laughing uproariously. "No, but I can see why you'd assume that. I'm [y/n], Maker of the Crowns."

They blinked. "You created the crowns?"

"I have since the first gods ruled over these lands." You chuckled, taking the Green Crown into your paw. "I mold them into a design of my liking, give them life, and then send them off into the world to find a worthy host. They're like my children, so I do get sentimental at times...but I know they'll do great things."

'Huh...Leshy did say the crown found him..' Lamb mused.

"Of all the ones I've created, though, I never thought to see the Bishops' crowns again. But they were in such terrible condition...falling apart, barely able to keep their eyes open....I couldn't believe it." Your gaze shifted down to the sheep. "You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?"

They tensed. "...well...um-"

"Haha! I only jest, Lamb. I know everything." You smiled reassuringly. "I've sensed strong spikes in their energy, and I'm well aware they've been used as aids for the bishops after Narinder's betrayal. Speaking of whom...."

Pausing, you outstretched your paws towards them. "I see the Red Crown has found a new master."

"It's a long story, but--hey!!" All of the sudden, the Red Crown slipped out of their hands, morphing back into its normal form as it began floating up to you. They were shocked and angered, feeling extremely vulnerable without it. "What are you doing?!"

"Nothing, little one. It came to me all on its own. Welcome home, my darling." With the crown nestled into your paw, your smile grew as its eye stared back up at you with happiness. You sighed and brought it closer to your cheek, allowing it to nuzzle up to you. "Oh how I've missed you, mighty crown of Death. I'm glad you have not forgotten me."

"Give it back!!" Lamb snarled, baring their sharp teeth as they tried storming up to your throne. But their little hooves kept slipping on the skull pile that served as its foundation, and they eventually tumbled downwards, landing on their rear. "I need it back right now!"

"...are they always like this?" You muttered to the Red Crown, who just rolled its pupil in response. "Huh, I thought so. Arrogant, entitled, paranoid....just like your first master-"

"Don't compare us." They scowled. "Narinder was worse than arrogant...he would have destroyed this entire world, along with you and all these crowns if I returned it to him! We are NOTHING alike."

"Hm, I see I've touched a nerve. My apologies. I just wanted to take care of this little chip in its horn." Smiling, you manifested some black ichor to seal the crack you discovered on the crown, before sharpening up its horns a little bit. "There. Much better."

"....thank you. Now may I have it back?" Lamb put their hand out, growing more anxious with each passing second they were separated from it. 'Why isn't it returning to me?"

"It doesn't see why it has to right at this very moment...and quite frankly, I don't either. It's not connected to your lifeforce. You're still standing without it-"

"Because I'm its new master! I gave it new purpose. I gave it freedom...and it should be obeying me unconditionally and I don't understand why it's being so stubborn. That crown wouldn't be anywhere NEAR as powerful if it weren't for-!!"

"Choose your next words carefully," you tutted, shaking your head as you gestured to the walls. "My children do not look it, but they too have ears."

Falling silent, they looked all around, noticing that the crowns were now glaring at them. They tensed up, a feeling of heavy discomfort and embarrassment washing over them as they slowly realized how childish they were acting.

And in front of the crown creator, of all people?

"Tell me..do you see the crown as nothing without you? Or perhaps you feel like you are nothing without the crown?"

"........"

"Your mistake, little lamb, is that you see crowns as simple tools to do your bidding. A conduit for your godhood. But do not forget, they are also living breathing creatures like you and I." You chastised. "As such, they deserve respect. I figured you would've been more grateful to meet their maker...such few have the privilege to enter my lair and receive such a warm welcome."

The Red Crown bobbed up and down in agreement, before it scowled down at Lamb, as though to say "you better listen to them and treat me better".

They just looked at the ground, unable to form words as shame creeped up their spine.

You sighed softly. "I understand your worries as a new god. The mere thought of separation from it drives you to rage, especially after what happened between you and Narinder. But I have no desire to take it from you. Not when you've fought so hard for it. All I wish is that you continue caring for it."

"....I'm sorry, Great Crown Maker.." Lamb muttered, finally letting themselves be humbled. "I don't mean to act like I did. It's just...he's been annoying me all day today, shouting about "divine right" and making my life a living hell. He still can't accept that it chose me over him.."

They felt the familiar and comforting weight of the Red Crown returning to the wool atop their head, but they only looked up at you with respect. "Thank you."

"Of course, young one." You nodded, smiling once more. "Narinder has possessed that crown since he was a wee little kit, so it's going to be quite a long time before he lets that grudge go. Perhaps in a hundred years, give or take."

"I understand...so.." Lamb looked around. "Do you have any wares?"

"Oh, plenty!" You clapped your paws together. "Feel free to take a gander! Since this is your first visit, you may have one of the tarot cards over there on the house. But just know that the crowns aren't for sale."

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl lamb x reader #cotl lambert x reader #platonic

578 notes · View notes

peachdues · 11 months ago

Text

COALESCENCE — RANDOM SNIPPETS

Levi x F!Reader • secret pregnancy AU

I feel bad I haven’t updated anything for Coalescence recently — so have some random snippets from Part I. I will return to Coalescence once Part III of my Demon Slayer fic, In the Netherwood, is complete.

CW: MDNI • mentions of injury • pregnancy • NSFW sneak peek at the end • Hange being Hange • Hange also finds out that Levi x Reader have been fucking and Reader is now pregnant • Levi eats pussy like a god

Death was far quieter than you’d imagined. It was dark, perhaps even peaceful. An endless oblivion amidst which you floated without form; weightless.

When you’d lost unconsciousness against the rubble that was once the Main Street of Trost, you’d accepted the very real — and likely — possibility that you would not wake up again.

In your youth, death had been nothing more than an abstract concept; something that happened only to the elderly or those who caught illnesses that could not be treated, or even to those who ventured beyond the Walls.

As a soldier within the Survey Corps, however, you’d learned that death was as certain as the sun even if you might not live long enough to see it rise.

And, having spent the last eight years of your life fighting on behalf of the Corps even as your comrades dropped like flies around you, you knew you’d long overstayed your welcome in this world overrun by titans.

So when everything had begun to fade to black as you laid broken on chunks of stone and brick, you thought death had finally come to collect on the debt you owed. You supposed you were grateful that your final moments were not spent struggling in the grip of a titan as it brought you to its open, salivating mouth.

Really, it wasn’t such a bad way to go, dying from injuries sustained in an explosion — even if the explosion had been caused by the stupidity of one of your own. You could make peace with it; you almost had.

Almost.

The one, nagging thought you’d had as the world around you melted into dark oblivion had been of him — of your dark-haired, brooding boyfriend, who was likely miles away from Trost and utterly unaware of the disaster that had befallen the district; that had befallen you.

Levi, you’d known, was going to be pissed when he found out you’d gotten yourself killed, after he’d told you, so many times, to avoid doing exactly that.

As much as you’d hoped he could find it within himself to forgive you, you knew he wouldn’t, and truthfully, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. You knew how every face of your fallen comrades haunted the Captain’s waking hours — how their screams plagued his precious few hours of sleep.

And now, it seemed, you would only be adding yourself to the festering wound he carried on his heart; so no, you probably didn’t deserve his forgiveness anyways.

It would’ve been nice to see him, one last time — you would’ve taken one of his fierce verbal lashings, if it meant hearing his voice one last time.

There was nothing you could do, however but resign yourself to death’s beckoning embrace, to fade into the nether and dissolve among the stars —

A buzz broke the quiet black of your oblivion.

You frowned; the buzz seemed to grow louder with each dull thud of your heart. You wanted to bat it away, make the silence come back and sink into the calm stupor you’d been floating in once more.

But the buzz was incessant, growing louder until you realized it was not a buzz at all, but voices. Many voices, speaking over one another in hissed, urgent tones.

“Get me a sponge, I can’t see where all this blood is coming from —“

“— Did you see her bloodwork? She’s at least ten weeks along, she’ll need to be discharged immediately —“

“That’s assuming the fetus has even survived —“

“Shush, I think she’s coming to; someone get Squad Leader Hange —

The voices melted together above you, their grate making the ache in your head grow steadily more piecing with each passing breath.

With far more effort than you wanted to believe it would take, your eyes slowly opened, struggling to adjust against the harsh overhead light of the Trost infirmary.

That light, however, was quickly blocked out by a shadowy figure leaning over you, far too close to your face for you own comfort. Your eyelids fluttered as the figure above you sharpened into focus, revealing a pair of large brown eyes blinking owlishly down at you.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier!” The unmistakable voice of your Squad Leader chirped. “Glad to have you with us!”

Your lips, dry and cracked parted to answer her, but you could do no more than respond with a strangled, pained groan.

The surface upon which you’d been lain — a cot, by the feel of it — dipped as Hange Zoe climbed atop it, legs carefully straddling your hips to keep their weight off you, as the Squad Leader leaned in close to your face.

“Squad Leader — you can’t —“ a nurse tried.

Her admonition fell on deaf ears. “You had me worried there, Y/N,” Hange’s began, fingers peeling back your eyelids to check the dilation of your pupils.

“You were in rough shape when Braus and another cadet pulled you free from that toppled building.”

You tried to ask how long you’d been out, but your mouth struggled to form around the shape of the words. Instead, all that came out was a garbled string of nonsense.

“You have a concussion, that’s for sure,” Hange said smoothly, fingers prodding at a tender spot against your temple.

“But that’s not the most important thing — Y/N, did you know you’re pregnant?”

That single word broke through the addled fog clogging your head.

“Preg—?” You managed, your tongue thick in your mouth.

Hange appeared to interpret the furrow of your eyebrows as a lack of comprehension rather than shock. “Yes, preg-nant. There is a small clump of cells growing inside you that will become a child —“

You grimaced. “N-no,” you tried. “I had — an implant —“

You heard the nurses desperately plea with your Squad Leader to get them down from where they’d perched upon your cot, but Hange paid them no mind.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, doll, but they aren’t always one hundred percent effective. It’s rare, but it happens.”

Under normal circumstances, you would have cursed your luck. Of course you’d end up being the exception.

“I can’t say I’m excited for you,” Hange continued, though it appeared they had been finally persuaded to remove themselves from your cot. The Squad Leader deftly stepped away from you, coming around the edge of your bed to take a clipboard from one of the nurses.

“You’re my best Scout; your pregnancy means I have to discharge you. No exceptions.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open, unconsciousness creeping in once more. “Is — am I still —?”

Hange looked up from your medical sheet, eyes softening. “Yes, Y/N, though you’re not entirely out of the clear, yet.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or not; part of you relaxed at the assurance, but until you could talk to Levi —

Levi.

Fuck, Levi.

You hadn’t known of your — condition — until mere seconds before, which meant Levi sure as hell had no clue that your birth control had failed, and you were now carrying irrefutable proof of the relationship the two of you had concealed for the last year.

Levi.

You needed to tell him, and fast; before it was too late to address the problem.

Levi.

There was nothing you could do at that moment as the world around you began to dim once more. Try as you might, your body was unable to fight off the sleep that crept in and began to tug you under, despite the urgency with which you thought of your need to get in contact with the Captain as soon as possible.

Levi. You needed to talk to Levi.

But the Trost infirmary slipped away, the voices of nurses and of Hange fading to the same buzz which had brought you back to consciousness the first time.

Before you slipped below the waves of sleep, you heard your Squad Leader’s lone gasp.

“Motherfucker-“

—-

(Levi’s POV)

Levi’s eccentric comrade emerged from the small examination room, a pensive look on their face.

Levi hadn’t given much thought as to what he would do if he ran into any of his colleagues among the upper ranks of the Scouts. His mind had been exclusively focused on her, and the news that had shaken him to his core.

He remained pressed against the corridor wall, for once uncertain whether he should make his presence known or stay still until Hange wandered away, leaving him to slip into the examination room unseen.

But the section leader had always had a peculiar sense as to when he was near, and so with a slight sense of foreboding, Levi watched as Hange’s head turned towards him, eyes as round and as bright as an owl’s.

“What a surprise it is to see you here, Levi.”

Levi kept his features neutral. “Is it?”

Hange’s expression was inscrutable. “What a day, huh?” They folded their arms across their chest and leaned against the doorway leading to her — to Y/N.

“A titan breach, gross incompetence by the Garrison causing even more casualties and destruction,” Hange counted off the day’s events on her fingers. “And to top it all off, the best scout on my squad not only got injured because of said incompetence, but she’s also pregnant.”

It took everything in him to keep his voice even and monotone. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the headache. The paperwork to discharge a scout is tedious at best.”

Levi brushed imaginary lint off the shoulder of his cape. “Better go get a move on.”

A strange smirk tugged at the corner of Hange’s mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about who the prospective father is, have you?”

There was a beat. “No.”

Hange’s smirk turned into a grin. “Poor thing has a concussion — it’s small, don’t worry,” and Levi knew his face must have tightened. “But the funniest thing happened while the poor girl was coming in and out of consciousness.”

Levi’s fists clenched slightly at the feral glint in their eye.

“It was almost hard to hear what she was muttering, the poor dear,” Hange finally kicked off the door jam and moved to saunter past her raven-haired comrade.

“I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with my scout, Levi.”

Levi’s voice dropped to a near whisper as they brushed by him. “Hange.”

“It seems the pregnancy is still viable,” the section commander said quietly.

He couldn’t stifle the faint exhale of relief which left him at their reassurance. For as shocking as the news of her pregnancy was, Levindidnt want to think about the mental toll a miscarriage could have wrought upon you.

Or himself, for that matter.

“You can go in,” Hange’s voice interrupted is slight reprieve. “I’ll make sure no one comes this way for at least a few minutes. But you can’t stay long — Erwin wants to see us.”

—-

“Well, congratulations!” Hange boomed, clapping the Captain sharply on the shoulder. “Good on you for working to restore the human race!”

A muscle in Levi’s jaw ticked. “Hange—“

“I guess the moniker ‘humanity’s strongest’ doesn’t just apply to your combat skills —“

“Hange.”

“— I’m talking super swimmers —“

“Oi. Four-eyes.” Levi pulled on the eccentric squad leader’s ponytail to command their attention. “Enough.”

—-

(NSFW bonus)

“You’ve gotta speak up, sweetheart,” Levi mocked between teasing kitten licks against your outer folds. his breath was hot as he exhaled against your damp core. “I’m waiting.”

You felt frustrated tears gather in the corners of your eyes. With an impatient whine, you rolled your hips towards him desperately, eyes wide and pleading for him to do something to fill the empty ache you felt within.

“Not good enough,” Levi growled, tongue lazily circling your entrance, twitching away every time you jerked your hips towards his mouth.

“Levi, please, I—,” you choked off with a frustrated whine. “You’re not being nice — I’m pregnant —,”

The stoic Captain pulled his mouth away from you entirely, rocking back on his heels. From between your thighs, Levi studied you, a renewed heat flaring to life in his steely eyes.

“You are, aren’t you?” He conceded, his eyes locking in on your mouth as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip and mewled. “And all because of me.”

Levi’s eyes dropped back down to your core, slick and aching, ready to take him however he wanted.

“And what kind of father would I be if I made the mother of my child suffer unnecessarily?”

Any response or yearning plea you may have answered him with died in your throat as Levi surged forward, his tongue plunging deep within your entrance, his nose pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

You just managed to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the scream he pulled from you as the Captain began to fuck you with his tongue.

You considered yourself to be somewhat an expert on the eccentricities of Levi Ackerman. You knew he preferred two scoops of leaves for his morning cup of tea, but only one and a half in the evenings. You knew when he bathed he followed a precise routine, always washing himself twice before his hair, and that he always used two towels to dry off because he hated trailing water beyond the washroom.

You knew that he was dust and dirt’s greatest nemesis, and that even the slightest bit of clutter or disarray set his teeth on edge. You knew he loathed sharing any space with the cadets because no matter how many times he threatened them, they never seemed to remember to clean up after themselves properly.

You’d learned all of these quirks slowly, over years of proximity and tentative friendship with the brooding captain. You’d coveted each new discovery like some precious jewel, squirreling it away in a mental folder labeled “Levi,” that you periodically turned to whenever he was stressed or on his last nerve.

But there had been one attribute of his that you hadn’t learned about until after your relationship escalated — after he’d hauled you up onto his desk for the very first time and fucked you stupid.

And that insight was this: Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps’ Special Operations Squad and Commander Erwin’s right-hand soldier, ate pussy like a man possessed.

“You’re doing so good, doll,” he groaned between lewd smacks of his mouth against your syrupy folds, his lips and teeth alternating in their ministrations against your clit. “You’re so damn good, giving me a baby, making a father out of me.”

Hearing Levi not only acknowledge your pregnancy but speak as though he were excited the pair of you were venturing into parenthood together made the coil in your belly tighten.

Levi’s hands clamped down around your shins, guiding your legs until they bent at your knees before pushing them up and level with your hips. His fingers splayed around your calves, he used his grip to rock you back and forth against his face, allowing your juices to smear across his lips and jaw until his skin was shiny with your arousal.

He hummed in response to the staccato of “oh fuck, oh fuck — Levi —“ which fell from your lips until you could no longer remember how to form words.

His eyes remained open and fixed pointedly on your face, those gray irises tracking every twitch of your mouth and pinch of your brow. The louder your strangled whimpers became, the harder he moved you, until you were nearly sobbing for him to let you come apart on his tongue.

more levi content soon, babies!

#attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot smut #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #snk fanfiction #snk levi #captain levi #levi aot #levi attack on titan

328 notes · View notes

usagifuyusummer · 3 months ago

Text

Family Dinner Night!

Congrats Peri(winkle) for finally getting the Godparenting license!!! 🥳🥳🥳 - from your loving parents and godbrother 💖💖💖

More concept art and as usual my insane ramblings below.

I NEED TO GET THE CREATIVE URGES OUT OF MY HEAD!!! It has been bothering with my motivation to finish my gazillions of homeworks lmao. I have so many ideas I need to let out!!! It's suffocating. I hope this will satisfy my creative urges for a while... Or not I will yap about my FOP AU on a separate post (when I'm able).

I can't stop being sad thinking about this family lol. Timmy 😭😭😭

I am not kidding when I say that my head is just filled with so many things that I want to contribute in the FOP fanworks lol. There's a lot I want to do, but so little time...

For now, I've decided to practice my take on the FOP artstyle. I wanted to do something simple as drawing and coloring practice. That's why the coloring this time is flat with no shadings. I think the show doesn't focus on shaded colors too much (except on scenes where there's a heavy implication of day/night, for shock value, etc.).

Just wanted to draw something cute because I haven't been feeling so swell lately. Nothing too poetic or detailed this time.

Other than that, two of the outfits this time is actually inspired by @suki-na-kumo for Peri and an image I found floating around in Twitter/X (sorry I don't remember who shared it) for Timmy's design. Suki-na-kumo's FOP family redesigns are so cool and adorable! I like that they always include flowy attributes in Peri's outfits lol. It makes him look like a pampered brat (which he kinda is seeing how his family coddles him), an otherworldly prince and also a Twink TM (that is unavoidable lol). I kinda want to draw their other FOP redesigns, but I'll just go with Peri's first.

I am not sure where that 18 year old Timmy design is from, but it kinda can be his design for those who theorise him on becoming a lawyer as an adult. There's a lot of instances where Timmy is wearing a suit in the show, but this design is one of my favs due to the hairstyle change. My adult Timmy designs in the future will be influenced from this piece of official art. I wonder if there are more Timmy designs in the wild wild west out there that I haven't seen... It is certainly an interesting find (Teen AJ is also there, and his design also looks cool to me).

Cosmo and Wanda's oufits are something that I cooked up. I don't think the coloring looks good... I just did this on a whim, and for about 13 hours. Damn, I am procrastinating on my work lmao.

Still, the context this time is, that they've had a family dinner to celebrate on Peri's achievement on finally obtaining his godparenting license!!! Good for him!!!

This is an AU if Timmy somehow was able to find a loophole in the "losing your memories of your fairy godparents after you become an adult" rule. Because of that, he continued his life as normal (as Timmy's chaotic life can be), but this time he is able to keep in contact with his fairy family even if they're not contractually obligated to stick together. Timmy does live with the Fairywinkle Cosma's around his college to early work years, but he eventually was able to move out and live on his own at where he works as a lawyer after a while in his adulthood. (His birth parents eventually went on a lifetime vacation without him or just went away for too long that Timmy just lives on his own a lot after he is 18 and above...)

Despite living on his own nowadays (In a New Wish context), Timmy does keep in contact with his fairy family and visits them when he's not busy with his job. Cosmo and Wanda still took a long vacation in this AU, first due to, yeah, Timmy is no easy feat as a godchild lol, and second, they actually want to take their time to raise BOTH of their children (even if Timmy is no longer a child/godchild) and guide them until they're stable adults. Timmy during college years actually only stays with the Fairywinkle Cosma's on holidays, so when Timmy's busy with college, that is when Cosmo and Wanda take their time relaxing lmao.

Sometimes when they really want to have some time alone or when Peri wants to see his bro, they will send Peri to Timmy's college for a day or more. Timmy babysits Peri so much during his college years lol. They both had fun though! With a lot of Peri newfound nuclear fairy power shenanigans at Timmy's college lmao. Studying law and taking the bar exam has never been more chaotic with babysitting a nuclear powered fairy child.

There's a lot more on this AU that I've been thinking, but I'll stop here for now. I need to gather my AU ideas in one post sometime later.

Also, Peri and Timmy are both adults here, Peri's around his 20's here and Timmy is on his early 30's I think. Cosmo, Wanda, and Peri are in their human disguises here, because they want to learn more about human culture (A New Wish context) while also having the desire to be more in Timmy's life.

I headcannon Timmy to be kinda short in his adulthood. This is also a nod to that episode when his fairy family used imperfect human disguises, even Poof/Peri was taller than Timmy in his human baby disguise lol. And also hey, wearing braces during his teen years paid off! (his big teeth are visible only when he opens his mouth lol)

As usual, here's some concept art and a png lineart pic if you want to use it to color it better than I did lmao. (that was a long yapping session... thanks for reading)

#the fairly oddparents #fairly oddparents #fop #fop fanart #cosmo fairywinkle cosma #wanda fairywinkle cosma #poof fairywinkle cosma #periwinkle fairywinkle cosma #peri fairywinkle cosma #timmy turner #timmy tiberius turner #lmao nerd names #fop cosmo #fop wanda #fop poof #fop peri #fop timmy #nickelodeon #cartoon fanart #usagifuyusummerart2024 #infinite painter #found family #fairy #fop au ramblings in the description lol #tags might change if formatting is godawful #also first time drawing peri! as in the adult him his hair is kinda hard to get at first i drew him with eyeshadow #because he seems like the type to wear makeup maybe... timmy also wears eyeliner during his emo phase lmao peri's using his bro makeup #also also they are fighting in the written text on the photo lol this is around the time when peri got to change his name #timmy just has cain instinct he finds it funny that peri doesn't notice how it kinda rhymes with his family name lmao #so he's making fun of peri's error lmao cosmo and wanda are just sighing and amused at their shenanigans

143 notes · View notes

girlwithadragonheart · 30 days ago

Text

Farewell, Wanderlust

Halsin x Fem!Reader

Summary: This takes place long after the events of bg3. Halsin is visiting Baldur’s Gate, and he makes a stop at the Blushing Mermaid. He meets a serving girl that reminds him of himself, and finds himself drawn to her.

Word Count: 9.8k

Warnings: Tension, teasing, mentions of the Struggles of Women™, Cursing, Mentions of assault, molestation, rape, etc. Halsin sees through your bullshit, Mentions of Halsin’s trauma (the Shadow Curse), You are a caretaker of a younger sister, Tav x Astarion mentioned, tav x astarion make an appearance physically, banter between Tav/Halsin/Astarion/you, so much tension, did I say tension? Smut, piv sex, nipple play, body worship, talking you through it, this is more for the feelings than the smut, be aware of that before diving in, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, switch dynamic, so many feelings

This is smut. I am not responsible for the media you consume

Gaelic translation: Mo Chridhe means My Heart

A/N: I made this post about this concept because it's been floating around in my head. This song is a vibe and it's the vibes of this ✨

The music flowed through you as the men shouted and cheered along with the racy tune. You sang and clapped along, keeping things lively as they got deep in their cups. A soft touch on the shoulder here, a nudge of the hips there. It was as easy as breathing to you, and the tips made it worth it.

Hiking up your skirts, you stomped your boots against the floor and climbed up onto the table to dance. The men hooted and hollered as you tapped your heels along to the beat, clapped your hands and let your voice ring out with the bards on stage.

Swinging your skirts, you danced away from grasping hands, tsking with a condescending tone at the lust-chasers. Their hands were covered in grease and rot, trying to soil you with their intentions.

Moss green eyes followed you from the back of the room. Halsin leaned against the far wall, watching the display, his drink all but forgotten in his hand. He watched the way you nimbly escaped the leering men, pressing two fingers to their foreheads and pushing them back enough that they fell back into their chairs.

As much as he was loath to admit it, he understood the way they were feeling. Something about the warmth of your smile was all-encompassing. It wrapped around him like twisting vines, urging him toward you.

The crowd cheered louder as you spun, skirts swirling, but beneath the noise and smiles you felt the weight of their stares. It was strange how such lighthearted music could surround you while you danced on the edge of frustration and loathing, smiling as you always had, even when all you wanted was to disappear.

He crossed his thick arms under his chest to regain some sense of control. It lasted him all of a second as your eyes swept the room, catching his with a small smile. Your gaze raked over his form, and there was a glint in your eye that wasn’t there before. He felt laid bare by your eyes alone, and while he was conscious of the way he stood out in a crowd, this was different.

You had the masses at your feet, but you sought out his attention. His cheeks flushed under the weight of your appraisal. He was used to it, however. He knew by many standards, he was considered exotic, being such a large elf. He had never quite been able to bend to the whims of the elven beauty standards, constantly trying to stoop too low to fit under that bar. He was much too large, and much too masculine for the non-conformity his race often had.

So no, he wasn’t beautiful, not by any standards other than the exotic ones. At least in his mind, this was true.

You, however, had other ideas. Something about those warm green eyes reminded you of sunlight filtering through trees, and though he looked battle-worn, there was a gentleness to his presence that you couldn’t quite decipher. It was drawing you to him, and you weren’t sure you would be able to stop once you let that feeling take root.

His presence was such a contrast to the rabble you normally dealt with. The rough clawing hands trying to tear your skirts and see your skin. The men hoarding, drunk on ale and lust. But there was something more than lust in his gaze. It went beyond just a carnal desire, and it was trying to reel you in.

As you twirled and spun, the joy of the music faltered in your steps for a moment. It was overshadowed by a pair of eyes that lingered a bit too long, a bit too low. Your smile didn’t slip, but something inside you did. A little crack. You caught the man’s gaze, tsking with a teasing smirk, but it was harder to shrug off than you wanted to admit.

The music rose like a great wave, and you spun, your voice ringing out, harmonizing with the instrumentals behind you. Your voice crested and fell, your chest rising and falling with great breaths as you posed on the table, skirts held out in one hand, the other poised in the air delicately.

You caught his eye again---the large elf in the back, his presence calming in the sea of drunken faces. There was no hunger in his gaze, just… interest. Curiosity, even. It was such a stark contrast to the clawing, desperate hands you had just brushed off. You smiled at him, but something stirred inside you---a yearning to be seen for more than just this dance.

Halsin put two fingers to his mouth and produced a loud whistle as everyone cheered and applauded. Your eyes caught his and you winked before disappearing behind a partition.

The elf took a sip of his drink, feeling it warm his chest before setting it down, lest he make a fool of himself.

Behind the partition, your smile fell. The music and cheers were muffled now, but their clawing stares still clung to your skin. How long had you done this? Pretending it didn’t bother you, letting them think you enjoyed their attention, their touch. It was exhausting, yet you did it every night. But why?

You freshened up your face with powder as your chest heaved with the effort of breathing beneath your stay. Carefully running fingers through your hair to give it that desirably unkempt effect that everyone always loved.

When you came back out, you felt the eyes following you. They made you want to be desperately and completely unattractive. Their eyes crawl and claw along your skin, marring you with their intentions. It’s impulsive, the way you want to pull your face off, to be around them it’s fucking impulsive.

You didn’t know why you did it every day, every night, the masses lusting after you in that disgustingly toxic way that had you leaving with bruises on your hips and welts on your cheek.

For every woman is a work of art and should be treated as such. They are not men, they are made of ass and glass. Their skin is clay and painted blue, their head can detach. They are statues with a pulse they are art you can fuck.

They are paintings with legs.

They are art you can fuck.

Wife, whore, mistress, maid, mother.

To be admired takes precedence over admiring. To be desired takes importance over desiring.

Take the screaming one because a woman who doesn’t want it is much hotter than one that does.

You can be anything you want, you could be anything, but not theirs. You would not be theirs.

With practiced poise, you square your shoulders and straighten your spine, tying an apron around your waist to serve the people.

Halsin watched as you worked, seeing you flit around the space like second nature. As though this was where you belonged. But he saw beneath the brave face. He saw the twinge of your eye when someone got too close. He saw the twitch of your fingers when someone got handsy with you. He saw the grit in your jaw when you smiled.

You may seem like this was your home, but he knew that was likely the farthest thing from the truth.

It was a beautiful facade, and once again, Halsin found himself drawn to you. He saw parts of himself in you that he hadn’t seen in years. It made him yearn to know you. To know himself. To see himself the way others did.

As you flitted between tables, balancing trays of mugs and pitchers, you caught the Druid’s gaze again. Unlike the others, his eyes didn’t follow your every movement with hunger. Instead, there was a quiet warmth in his gaze. One that made your steps falter, just for a second. He lifted his goblet in a gentle, unspoken request. You nodded, disappearing through the crowd for a moment before reappearing to refill his drink.

Your hand was steady as you refilled his drink.

“Your dance was… captivating.” His smooth deep voice washed over you from head to toe as he watched you pour the amber liquid. The compliment was genuine, and it didn’t hold the same lustful undertones that most did. “I am Halsin,” he said, introducing himself.

A smile graced the corners of your lips. “Thank you, Halsin, I am glad you enjoyed it. It’s not often we get such… interesting company in this part of the city.”

He chuckled, “Interesting, no doubt? None more intriguing than you, I’ll wager. Tell me, if you find this company so repulsive, why torment yourself with the work?”

“Repulsive? What gave you that idea?” You said smoothly. He simply raised a brow, bringing his newly filled drink to his lips. “It pays,” you sighed. “I need the money, really. It’s not easy trying to support more than yourself in this city.”

“I see,” he hummed. Halsin leaned forward, voice soft and kind. “It must be tiring dealing with these crowds every night.” He paused, studying you carefully. “Perhaps after your shift you’d like some fresh air? A walk under the moonlight… It’s quieter out there,” he suggested.

The offer caught you off guard, your lips parting slightly. A walk? With him? He had a presence, a calmness that intrigued you. A break from the noise, the stares, sounded too good to be true. Certainly too good to refuse.

“Maybe,” you offer a teasing grin. It was less theatrical now. “If you promise not to ask me to dance again. My feet are killing me.”

Halsin chuckled, the sound deep and comforting. “Only if you want to.”

“Alright,” you said, pushing off the beam and adjusting your apron. “But if you get any ideas about trying to twirl me under the moonlight, I might have to reconsider.”

Halsin’s grin widened, warmth in his gaze. “I’ll behave… for now.”

The noise of the tavern slowly dimmed behind you as you stepped out into the cool night air. The breeze was a welcome contrast to the heat and chaos inside. You paused at the entrance, pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders as the weight of the night settled over you.

Halsin was waiting nearby, a quiet presence amidst the shadows. His broad frame seemed even larger beneath the glow of the moon, but his expression was soft. Patient. He offered you a small smile, and without a word, you both began to walk.

In the back of your mind, you worried, but you pushed those thoughts aside. She would be alright on her own for a while longer. She was likely asleep by now anyway.

The night was calm, and the streets of Baldur’s Gate were quieter at this hour. Only the occasional murmur of drunkards stumbling home or the distant clatter of hooves disturbed the peace. Your footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable---it felt like a release after the constant noise of the tavern. You found yourself stealing glances at the elf beside you, watching how the moonlight caught in his hair and softened the hard lines of his face.

After a while, Halsin broke the silence, his voice a low rumble that blended with the night air. “I can see why you’d want to escape from all of that,” he said. “The noise… the attention.”

You nodded, letting out a soft sigh. “It’s exhausting,” you admitted quietly. “They think it’s all fun and games. And maybe sometimes it is, but most of the time… I feel like I’m wearing a mask for the performance’s sake.”

Halsin glanced at you, his gaze thoughtful. “A mask?” He knew of course what you meant, but it felt like an invitation to speak of your troubles to someone who just wanted to lend an ear.

You gave him a small, wry smile. “To keep them at bay. To keep myself from… I don’t know. Feeling too much. Letting it get to me.” You kicked at a loose pebble in your path, watching it skitter ahead of you. “It pays well, but I’d give almost anything to get out of that place.”

He nodded, his understanding evident in the way he listened without judgment. “And yet you stay. For someone else, no doubt.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “My sister. She’s younger, and I’m all she has. This job is what keeps food on the table and a roof over our heads.” You laughed softly, but the sound lacked humor. “Not much choice in that, I suppose.”

Halsin’s eyes softened. “You care for her deeply,” he said softly. “It takes strength to carry such a burden. I understand what it’s like to protect someone.”

The empathy in his voice surprised you, but it shouldn’t have. “Do you?” You asked, curiosity piqued.

He paused, as though contemplating how to share what was on his mind. “Once, long ago, I fought on the front lines against an evil that plagued Reithwin. I was friends with a young fey boy who relied on the lands to survive just as they did him. We failed that battle, and the land was plunged into darkness.”

“The Shadow Cursed lands,” you said thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of the horrors that used to roam there.”

He nodded solemnly. “It took a century, but I found myself aiding a group of adventurers that had to pass through there. The evil they fought had turned out to be the very same man who had cursed the lands all those years ago. With their help, we relinquished the curse and brought light back to Reithwin. The fey boy, Thaniel, nearly hadn’t survived. The world is not kind to those who cannot defend themselves.”

There was a weight to his words, one that mirrored something deep inside you. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, your earlier lightheartedness slipping away. “You say you lost the battle. It sounds like you lost much more than that.”

“We all lose, in time,” Halsin said gently. “But I’ve found that with loss, there comes clarity. And with clarity, a chance to rebuild.” He glanced at you, his gaze intense, but warm. “You, too, have that strength. I see it.”

His words struck a chord in you. The way he looked at you---not with hunger or desire like so many others, but with genuine respect---made something inside you stir. You’d spent so long being admired for your beauty, your charm, but here was someone who saw deeper. Who understood.

You walked in silence for a while longer, the path beneath your feet turning from cobblestones to a dirt trail leading toward the outskirts of the city. The sounds of nature began to replace the distant chatter of the city---the rustling of leaves, the quiet hum of insects, the occasional hoot of an owl. The moon hung low in the sky, casting everything in a soft, silvery light.

Eventually, the path led you into a small clearing surrounded by trees. The air was crisp and fresh, and the moonlight bathed the space in an ethereal glow. You stopped, turning to face him. “This… this is nice,” you said softly, your voice barely over a whisper. “Peaceful.”

In truth, you had no idea this was out here. You’d been born and bred Baldurian and there was no reason for you to ever travel when everything you needed was right there in the midst of the city. Finding somewhere quiet in nature was often the last thing on your mind. But here, with him, it was at the forefront.

You glanced up at him, watching as his eyes took in the surroundings with a calm familiarity. His presence was grounding, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe without putting on a show.

“It is,” Halsin replied, his voice a deep rumble in the quiet night. “Sometimes, when the world is too loud, I seek places like this. It helps me remember what matters.”

“I hate the way they look at me,” you admit to him. “As if I’m something they have any right to. Something they own,” you spat.

His expression softened, and he stepped closer, his warmth enveloping you. “You’re not,” he said firmly, his voice like a steady heartbeat. “You’re more than what they see. More than they could ever understand.”

The sincerity in his words hit you hard, and before you could stop yourself, you stepped closer to him, your body craving the solace his presence offered. His hand found your cheek, rough but tender, and you leaned into the touch, your eyes fluttering closed.

“I…” your voice was barely a whisper. You could feel the pull, the magnetism between you, a need for connection that went beyond words.

Halsin’s breath was warm against your skin as he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. “I see you,” he whispered, his lips brushing the edge of your temple.

The space between you disappeared,and your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss. His touch was patient, gentle, as though he were holding back a great storm for your sake. His other hand moved to your hip, holding you softly, not like something to own, but something to cherish. The kiss deepened, your lips parting to welcome the sweep of his broad tongue, and your heart raced in your chest. But just as your hands found his broad shoulders, a tremor of doubt ran through you.

“I… I can’t,” you stammered, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his tunic. “I don’t… I’m not ready. Not yet. It’s---”

Halsin brushed a thumb along your cheek, and you quieted. His eyes softened. “You don’t have to explain,” he said gently. “Not to me. You should never feel rushed. I’ve been alive for three hundred and fifty years, I can wait a bit longer.”

You nodded, a mix of relief and guilt swirling inside you. “I’m sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He stepped back and cool air rushed between you. The warmth of his presence was sorely missed. “When you’re ready.”

The intimacy hung in the air between you, a tether that hadn’t snapped but was left suspended. You both turned, continuing the walk in silence, but the weight of what could have been lingered in your chest long after you returned to your apartment above the Elfsong.

You’d been thinking about that night for days. The way Halsin’s presence had calmed you, the way his touch had stirred something inside of you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. And now, with every passing day, you couldn’t shake the feeling of regret. Why had you pulled away? Why hadn’t you just allowed yourself that moment of connection?

Tonight, the tavern was rowdier than usual. Men sloshed their drinks, and the noise was deafening, but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts kept drifting back to him---to Halsin, and what could have been.

Things were harder since then it felt like. It was more difficult to pull on the mask, and even more difficult to pull it off when you were done performing. All of those clawing hands felt like they were gripping everywhere. Like they were trying to restrain you and pull you back in to keep you from feeling fulfilled. To keep you from having fun. To keep you from being free.

After your shift, you headed out into the night, the streets quieter now. The air was cool again, but this time it didn’t bring the same sense of peace. You felt the weight of eyes on you---eyes that you had learned to ignore but never fully escape.

The alley was dark and narrow, the dim light of the tavern barely reaching the cobbled street as you stepped outside to catch a breath. The night had grown quieter, but you still felt the ghost of eyes on your skin, crawling and biting like the memories of lecherous hands from nights past.

You didn’t hear him at first---the heavy footsteps that followed as you made your way down the alley, the stench of ale and filth drifting toward you on the wind. The faint clink of a bottle hitting the ground. Then, the voice---low, slurred, but unmistakably familiar.

“Oi,” came the rough, rasping call. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as you quickened your pace, the cold weight of dread settling in your stomach. You knew that voice. One of the drunkards from the tavern. His slurred words echoed in your mind, followed by the clumsy grad he’d attempted earlier in the night. You’d laughed it off then, but now… Now you were alone.

A hand shot out from the shadows and grabbed your arm, yanking you back with brute force. You let out a sharp cry as your back hit the rough stone of the alley wall. The smell of alcohol and sweat overwhelmed you, and his breath, hot and rancid, fanned across your face.

“Didn’t get a good enough look at you earlier,” he slurred, his voice thick with menace. “But now… I’ve got you all to myself.”

Your blood ran cold, terror sinking its claws into your chest as his filthy hands grabbed at your waist, his body pressing you hard against the wall. The alley was too narrow, too dark. There was no way to scream loud enough, no way to escape the iron grip that pinned you in place.

You struggled, pushing at his chest, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. His hands roamed, pawing at your skin, tugging at the ties of your dress and corset, nearly tearing the thin material. Panic surged through you, your vision narrowing as rage and and fear tangled in your throat.

“Let go of me!” You snarled, but your voice wavered.

He laughed, the sound dark and predatory, like a wolf toying with its prey. “Come on now,” he taunted. “You wanted this. All that dancing, all those smiles. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the attention.”

Your mind screamed as you writhed against him, but his grip tightened. You could feel the anger rising, hotter and more dangerous than the fear when there was nothing you could do about it. It swelled in your chest like a damn about to break just as tears filled your eyes.

They would never know what it was like to dance in the fear that you did. Forever living in headlights, the hunted, the deer. You were only prey for the predators. Not the top of the food chain, but certainly higher on it than you were.

Whore, mother, sister, slut.

Nurse, sinner, virgin, bitch.

It didn’t matter what title you had, you were seen by most men the same way.

Sex doll, slave, toy, cunt.

Your elbow connected with his ribs, hard enough to make him grunt, but he didn’t release you. His hands scrambled for purchase, his grip brutal and unrelenting. He was stronger than you, even drunk. You kicked, you clawed, every inch of you thrumming with violent desperation.

Your vision blurred with tears of frustration. Your mind was a blur of survival and sheer, primal rage. You clawed at the ground, searching for something---anything to fight with. But before you could find purchase, the drunkard’s grip tightened again. His weight pressed you down like a stone, and you felt your body beginning to numb from the terror, the suffocation.

Then, just as your world began to shrink to the horror of his hands on your body---

A deep, thunderous roar split the night.

Halsin.

In an instant, the weight was gone. The drunkard was torn off of you as if he were nothing more than a rag doll. You gasped for air, rolling onto your back just in time to see the massive druid towering over the man, his broad chest heaving with fury.

“You dare lay a hand on her?” Halsin’s voice was low, dangerous---like a storm about to break. His eyes glowed with barely restrained rage as he looked down at the man crumpled at his feet.

The drunkard groaned, scrambling back, but Halsin was quicker. His hand shot out, grabbing the man by the throat and lifting him effortlessly into the air. The man’s feet kicked helplessly as Halsin held him aloft, his grip tightening with every second.

“You will never touch her---or any other---again.” Halsin’s voice was a growl, primal and unyielding.

For a brief, terrible moment, you thought he might snap the man’s neck right there. But instead, Halsin threw him to the ground with a sickening thud. The drunkard lay there gasping, clutching his throat, eyes open wide with fear.

Halsin took a step forward, looming over him. “Run,” he commanded, his voice deadly calm. “Run before I change my mind.”

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, stumbling and tripping over himself as he fled down the alley disappearing into the night.

Your body shook as the adrenaline slowly drained from you. You sat up, your breath coming in ragged gasps, trying to gather your wits. The fear, the rage---it still clung to your skin like a second layer of filth. On top of the first layer which you felt you would never wash off. All the places where he had touched you burned on your skin.

But then Halsin was at your side, his expression softening as he knelt before you. His hands were gentle now as they brushed the dirt from your arms, his gaze filled with concern.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice low, soothing.

You shook your head, your throat too tight to speak. Your heart still pounded in your chest, but you felt… safe. His presence was like a balm, the rage that had once twisted his features now replaced by an almost unbearable tenderness.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered, his large hand cupping your cheek, brushing away a stray tear. His thumb traced a soft line across your skin, grounding you in the present, reminding you that you were no longer alone.

Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes again, this time from relief rather than fear. You had been so close to breaking, to losing yourself, but now here he was---strong, unyielding, and yet so impossibly gentle.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as you finally allowed yourself to feel the weight of what had just happened. He pulled you close, wrapping you in his arms. The alley was quiet now, the only sound the faint rustle of the night wind and your own uneven breaths,

You leaned into him, your face buried against his chest, listening to the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It was steady, like the forest after a storm. His scent---earthy, like pine and damp leaves---calmed the last of your trembling nerves. For a moment, it was all you could do---just breathe and be held.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your hands still resting against his broad chest. His eyes, normally so warm, were now shaded with worry. Halsin’s hand brushed the side of your face, tucking a stray lock behind your ear. “I should have been here sooner,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “I should have protected you.”

You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall again. “You did,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “You saved me.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, just watching you with an intensity that made your chest tighten. His hand moved to your shoulder, the touch gentle, as if he feared you might break beneath it.

“You are so much stronger than you know,” he said softly, his thumb grazing the curve of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “But you should never have had to fight alone.”

His words hung heavy in the air between you, and for the first time, the full weight of what had happened hit you. The fear, the rage, the helplessness---it all came crashing down. You tried to swallow it back, tried to keep it together, but it was too much.

Your breath hitched, and before you could stop it, a sob tore from your throat. You turned your face away, embarrassed, but Halsin was already there, his arms tightening around you, pulling you back into the safety of his embrace. “It’s alright,” he whispered against your hair. “Let it out.”

And so, you did.

The sobs came hard, each one ripping through you as the shock and terror of the attack poured out in a flood of tears. Halsin held you through it all, his large hand stroking soothing circles on your back, his presence a solid anchor in the storm.

“You remind me of a willow tree,” Halsin said, his deep voice cutting through the noise in your mind. “Strong, but flexible. A willow bends in the fiercest storms to withstand it but never breaks. It sways with the wind, rooted deeply in the earth, steady and enduring. You are like that---resilient. Even when the world presses against you, you bend, you adapt. But your roots remain strong.”

His thumb brushed over your cheeks, wiping your tears gently. His voice was quiet, but filled with warmth. You found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him as he speaks, your mind stilling to his gentle tone.

“And yet, like the willow, there is a softness to you, a grace. The way you move, the way you face life’s challenges with quiet strength… it reminds me of the branches that gently sweep the ground, giving shelter and peace to those who need it.”

He paused, his eyes meeting yours as he gathered you against his chest, cradling you like a mere babe.

“But you are also like the forest,” he continued, his tone shifting as though he were speaking of something sacred. Perhaps it was sacred to him. Perhaps you were sacred. “Vast, full of life, ever-changing.” He said, standing with you as though you weighed nothing. “There is a wildness to you. Something untamed and beautiful. The forest does not seek to control or be controlled; it simply exists in harmony with itself, with all its seasons and cycles. Like the forest, you have a depth that cannot be easily understood---mysteries, strength, and a wild spirit that draws others in. You are captivating.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, green eyes filled with sincerity. “In the forest, there is peace, but there is also power. You hold both within you. Like the trees that grow tall and proud, and the earth that nourishes all, you are a source of strength for others, even when you don’t see it.” His voice was barely over a whisper. This was meant for your ears only, to soothe your mind alone. “And like the forest, you are ever-growing. You change with the seasons of your life, becoming something new, something more, while still holding the essence of who you are.”

Halsin’s gaze lingered on you, as if he saw not just your present self, but the many versions of you that had come before and those still to come. “You are the willow---graceful, strong. And you are the forest---wild, deep, and full of life. Both are beautiful, in their own ways, just as you are,” he said softly. “You are far more complex than the drunks of this city like to think, and more beautiful than the sun filtering through autumn leaves.”

You heard everything he told you and everything he didn’t. You heard him say that you were worth more than just your beauty and your body. You were worth more than what they made you out to be. And you knew now. You knew he could see you for what you truly were. For what you always had been.

Gradually, your tears subside, and you squeeze his shoulder, moving so he can set you on your feet, though you keep a hand in the crook of his elbow.

“Would you like me to take you home?” He asked. “Or somewhere else, perhaps?”

You thought about returning to the Elfsong. You thought about the noise and the people and the constant hum that filled your mind when you were there. Always double checking if the door was locked, making sure the windows were shut and locked, making sure no one was hiding in the dark spaces of the room to hurt you.

But then you thought about someone else. “My sister---”

“I sent Jaheira to check on her. She’s staying with her and her children tonight,” Halsin said. “She’s safe, don’t worry.” You almost cried again, just at the notion that someone had cared enough about you not only to protect you, but to protect someone you cherished by extension. He must’ve seen it in your smile or your eyes because he just smiled softly at you, a quiet assurance that things would be okay.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” You told him honestly. “My only other option is my parents in the upper city and…” you scoffed. “They’re about as likely to help as the man who did the hurting.”

Halsin was silent for a moment, his mouth drawn into a thin line. He wished he had done worse to that man. “I have somewhere you can stay. Tav and Astarion own a house in the upper city, we can stay there. You’ll be safe.”

“The woman who saved the city?” Your eyes went wide. “I couldn’t possibly impose on them.”

“You can, and you will,” he said, tone gentle but leaving no room for argument.

Halsin’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he guided you through the city gates. “Come,” he murmured, his warmth steady beside you. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet. You’ll feel better once we’re away from all this.”

The two of you walked through the dim, cobbled streets of the Upper City. The night was cool, the stars above shimmering faintly through wisps of clouds. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. With each step, the tension of the night began to loosen, like vines slowly unwinding from your heart.

The thought of staying with Tav and Astarion left you unsettled at first---two legends in their own right, people you'd only ever seen in passing. They had saved the city, but still, the idea of intruding on their space made you hesitant. Yet there was something about the way Halsin had said you will---firm, but not unkind---that reassured you. He wouldn’t take you anywhere you didn’t didn’t belong.

When you arrived, Tav greeted you at the door, all warmth and open arms, as though she had expected you. “Come in, both of you,” she said with a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “We were just about to have dinner.”

Astarion leaned lazily against the doorway to the parlor, dressed in silk that shimmered like moonlight. He was definitely pretty, and you could see the appeal. He kept his eyes on Tav, swirling his wine glass. He looked serene as he watched her, body relaxed and a small smile on his face as he regarded his love.

You stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around you like a blanket. The air smelled faintly of roasted meat and herbs, and a fire crackled in the hearth, filling the space with a cozy glow. It was a far cry from the Elfsong---quiet, safe, and comforting in a way that felt foreign to you.

“Make yourselves at home,” Tav said, waving a hand toward the dining room. “There’s plenty to share.

“Come, sit with us,” Astarion added, his voice smooth as butter. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “We don’t bite. Well, I don’t---not tonight, at least.”

You managed a weak smile at the vampire’s teasing. Halsin guided you to a seat at the table, sitting beside you as Tav set an extra plate in front of you. The meal was simple but hearty---roast venison, roasted vegetables, and warm bread.

“You’re welcome here for as long as you need,” Tav said softly, sitting across from you. Her words were earnest, her expression kind.

“Thank you,” you managed a smile at her.

“Of course,” she said. “Halsin has spoken so much about you, it’s only right.”

You glanced over at him, the tips of his ears pink as he ate, ignoring the teasing stare from Tav. “He has?” You blinked. You were surprised he had thought about you beyond that first night, but perhaps you shouldn’t be.

“Of course,” she said. “He had said he was going to invite you here this night, I am glad it worked out.”

Halsin cleared his throat, and you just stared at him. “Not exactly, Tav…” he said carefully. “Our dear Y/N narrowly escaped an attack tonight, I was lucky I got there in time.”

There was a time Astarion wouldn’t have cared, and may have felt a bit smug that he wasn’t the only one. Perhaps his time with Tav was helping him grow. He rested a hand over yours and squeezed gently. His skin was cold to the touch. “No one deserves that. I know better than most. You are safe here,” he promised.

You could only nod. The knots in your stomach loosened a bit---enough for you to eat, and appreciate the meal being shared with you. Astarion, of course, didn’t have any food in front of him, but he sipped his wine.

“So,” Tav said. “Halsin says you’re a performer?” She asked, a knowing glint in her eye that told you she was changing the subject to alleviate some of your stress. “I can understand why, you must have the masses swooning at your feet.”

Your cheeks warmed. Something about Tav saying it changed the way it felt. Rather than the men grabbing after you, you had this woman appreciating your beauty. “Only occasionally,” you told her. “Most of the time I’m just a server.”

“Ah, I see, so Halsin got lucky then,” she shot a teasing smile in his direction. He shook his head fondly, eating his roast rather than dignifying her with a response. “Well, I for one would love to come watch. What say you, Astarion?”

“Oh, darling, you know I’m always down for a show,” he flashed a grin, his sharp canines glinting in the light.

Your blush deepened, and you took another bite of your dinner. Halsin seemingly had it right, not to bother arguing with them. But you felt him nudge your side, as if to say I see you. “She sells herself short,” Halsin said. “It’s far worth any amount of coin you can pay, and a shame you get nothing from it.”

You looked up at him. “I get tips,” you said quickly. “It’s not as though I gain nothing from it. It’s how I met you, after all,” you smiled up at him.

Tav watched you thoughtfully. “Do you have any family in the city?”

“That matters? Only my sister. My parents live around here in the upper city,” You told her. “The (l/n)’s. We aren’t particularly close.”

You saw Astarion’s face twist. “I know that name,” he was silent for a moment, as though trying to remember something. “They had ties to the Szarr family, did they not?”

You saw Tav’s eyes go wide, and you looked between them. “They did when I was young. I’ve not kept in touch with them after fleeing with my baby sister.” You watched Tav squeeze Astarion’s hand. His eyes went unfocused, the epitome of a thousand-yard stare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to cause upset--”

Astarion loosed a breath, chuckling without humor. “You haven’t dear.” Your gaze flicked around the room. “I haven’t thought about that in a long time. You said you escaped? Good on you. So did I.” He raised his glass to you, draining the rest.

The dinner passed in a blur of conversation, though you mostly listened as Tav and Astarion spoke with Halsin. Their camaraderie was easy and familiar, filled with inside jokes as playful banter. It made you feel like a welcome guest rather than an intruder, and slowly, the tension in your shoulders began to ease.

When the meal was over, Astarion poured wine for everyone, his gaze flickering between you and Halsin with sly amusement. “I do love hosting surprise guests,” he said with a grin. “Especially ones who bring such interesting company.”

Halsin gave a low chuckle but didn’t rise to Astarion’s bait. Instead, he turned to you, his hand resting lightly on your back. “You’re tired,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You nodded, exhaustion settling over you like a heavy cloak. Halsin stood, gently guiding you to your feet, and Tav gave you a reassuring smile. “Sleep well,” she said softly. “You’ll be safe here.”

Halsin led you up the stairs to one of the guest rooms. The bed was large and covered in soft blankets, a small window cracked open to let in the cool night breeze. It was the kind of room that invited rest, but when Halsin turned to leave, you caught his large hand in your own.

“Stay,” you whispered. The word came out softer than you intended, but it carried the weight of everything you couldn’t quite say.

Halsin’s gaze searched yours for a moment, and then he nodded. He didn’t ask any questions---he simply stayed.

He helped you out of your outer clothes, his hands gentle and deliberate, as if he understood how much care you needed right now. When you were down to your shift, he cupped your face gently, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

Something about his touch was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you sane. Slowly, as though waiting for you to change your mind, he sat on the edge of the bed, removing his boots as he looked at you.

You bit your lip in quiet contemplation as you watched him get comfortable in this space with you. You both were laid almost bare before the other, a show of silent trust. You stepped between his parted thighs, carefully cupping his cheeks and tilting his face up to you. His moss green eyes searched yours, and slowly he rested his hands on your hips.

You let the breath you were holding from your chest, eyes fluttering closed from the warmth of his palms against the thin fabric separating him from your skin. Somehow, you were closer to vulnerability than ever, and yet you knew you were completely safe here, with him.

You leaned down, lips a hair’s breadth from his, and you closed your eyes, pressing your forehead to his with a sigh. Halsin’s thumbs rubbed soothing circles against your hips. “You don’t have to do anything,” he reassured you softly.

But gods you wanted to. You wanted this. You wanted to make this choice. It was your choice, and it was one you regretted not making sooner. “I want to,” you whispered. “I want to replace their touch with yours.”

You felt his voice rumble in his chest as he spoke. “Come here, to me.” His hands trail reverently down the backs of your thighs, pulling you forward to straddle his lap, needing no further encouragement.

His hands returned to your hips as you pressed your lips to his softly. The kiss was slow and deliberate with a tenderness that made you ache. He kissed you as if every touch was a promise to erase the memories of all the hands that had hurt you before—replacing those memories with thoughts of him; his scent, his touch, his warmth, it consumed you and you thanked him for it.

His hands began to map your body like the roots of a tree seaking the earth—gentle, insistent, and sure. Where others had taken, Halsin only gave, only cherished. His kisses were soft, coaxing you open, and his touch was reverent, as though you were something precious to him.

“You are safe,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm on your neck. “And I will keep you safe. No one will ever touch you again.”

His words settled deep in your bones, wrapping around the places where fear had taken root,soothing them with a steady warmth. His hands, still at your hips, were grounding—tangible proof that this moment was real. That he was real. That you had chosen this, and he would honor that choice without hesitation or expectation. The tenderness in his gaze was almost too much, and yet you craved more, needed more.

You shifted in his lap, sliding your arms around his neck as his hands roamed up your back. His touch was slow, reverent, as if each movement was deliberate—like a druid tending to the forest, patient and loving. His fingertips traced the curve of your spine, a soothing pattern that made your breath hitch. There was nothing hurried in his exploration. No rush, no demand. Only the steady reassurance of his presence.

When you kissed him again, it was deeper, more intentional. The softness of his lips against your carried a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. This was not just a kiss—it was a reclamation, an act ofhealing, a promise that what came next would be only what you desired. Halsin’s hand cradled the back of your neck, guiding you closer without ever forcing you. His other hand remained at your waist, anchoring you to him, letting you set the pace.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, drawing a low rumble of pleasure from deep in his chest. The sound vibrated through you, spreading warmth across your skin. His kisses trailed from your mouth to the curve of your jaw, then down your neck, each press of his lips a silent affirmation: I am here. You are safe. This is yours to take. Yours to have.

You tilted your head to give him better access, and his lips traced a path to the hollow of your throat. His breath ghosted over your skin, sending sparks down your spine, and you gasped softly, your body arching into him.

His hands slid beneath the hem of your shift, brushing along the sensitive skin of your thighs. His touch was gentle, as if he feared he might startle you—but you leaned into him, silently urging him on. Halsin responded with a deep exhale, as though your trust was a gift he didn’t take lightly. Slowly, his hands traveled upward, caressing the soft curve of your hips, his fingers splaying wide as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent against your collarbone, as though the words themselves were sacred.

You shivered under his touch, every word, every kiss, unraveling the tension you had carried for so long. His hands reached the small of your back, pulling you closer, pressing you fully against him. The sensation of his solid frame beneath yours made you feel both protected and powerful, as though reclaiming something you hadn’t realized you’d lost.

“I want to see all of you,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection, but not impatience. “If you’ll let me.”

A flutter of anticipation stirred in your chest, but there was no fear, only want—want for him, for this moment, for the peace his touch brought. You nodded, your heart pounding as you reached for the hem of your shift, drawing it slowly over your head.

Halsin’s breath hitched at the sight of you, but there was no savagery in his gaze—only awe, as if you were a rare and precious thing. His hands followed the path his eyes traced. His touch was light and gentle despite the calluses on his warm hands. He was sure of his path as he caressed your bare skin. With every stroke of his fingers, you felt the ghosts of unwanted touches fade, replaced completely by this moment.

“I will care for you,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet devotion. “And I will never hurt you.”

Your chest tightened at his words—not from anything other than the overwhelming sense of safety they carried. You leaned down to kiss him again, your hands bracing on his broad shoulders, and he met you halfway, his lips soft and coaxing as your lips parted to his tongue. There was no rush, no urgency, only the slow unfolding of something deeper—something neither of you needed to name.

His hands roamed over your body, mapping every curve and dip with reverence. He treated you like something sacred, his touch steady and deliberate, as if he were tending to the delicate petals of a flower or coaxing life from the soil. And you bloomed above him, your skin tingling under his palms, your breath hitching with every kiss he pressed to your skin.

You shifted in his lap, the soft friction drawing a low, satisfied hum from Halsin’s chest. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements without controlling them, letting you find the rhythm that felt right for you. There was no expectation, only the slow, deliberate merging of your bodies and hearts.

The shift in his lap stirred a quiet groan from his lips, low and rumbling, the sound vibrating through your skin where your bodies touched. You leaned into him, relishing the way his hands tightened every so slightly on your hips, as if he needed this connection as much as you did. His hands against your skin were taut, not to control, but to anchor himself to you, as though you were the only thing tethering him to the ground. His lips parted against yours, and his breath came in warm, shallow waves, brushing your skin like a summer breeze stirring through the canopy.

You felt the warmth growing between your thighs, and your fingers slipped beneath the hem of his tunic. His body radiated heat, and he only pulled back to allow you to slip his shirt off. Your hands trailed his muscled chest and shoulders, nails scratching lightly at the hair on his chest.

His stomach was soft but you could feel the muscle beneath as he tensed with ragged breaths as you explored his body, mapping it in just the same way he had mapped yours. Your fingers trailed over his strong shoulders to the large biceps that were wrapped around you. It wasn’t a cage, it was a blanket. It was a soft landing after all the nights you spent with knees against bricked roads.

"I want you," you breathed, shifting down against his lap. "I want all of you." It's both a plea and your consent. His hand trails up, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple experimentally. You moan, arching into his touch as his mouth savages your neck, licking, kissing, biting wherever he can.

“And you shall have me,” He murmured against your skin. He lowered his mouth to your other breast, swirling his tongue over your nipple and nipping lightly against the bud. You whined, pressing up against his mouth.

He teased you until your buds were red and raw, overly sensitive from his attention. Leaning back, he pulled you with him until his back was flush to the mattress. He watched you like you were his goddess and he was ready to worship you completely.

His hands trailed over your body reverently. When he held your waist, his thumbs nearly touched with how large his hands were compared to you. Your wide hips, though, were soft and the perfect grip for him as you ground down against him with a smile gracing your lips for the first time in days.

He groaned, hips bucking up into you as his head dropped back. “Silvanus preserve me,” he mumbled. If this is to be my end then so be it, he thought. “Mo chridhe…” He squeezed your hips, fighting the urge to grind up into you. You watched his mossy green eyes flash golden before returning to their normal color.

You leaned over him, lifting up to untie the laces to his breeches. With his help, you pushed them down his thighs, feeling his thick length slap up against your ass. You smirked as he loosed a breath heavily feeling you grind back against him eagerly.

“Is this for me?” You tease, sliding your lips over his chest, pressing kisses and love bites where you can.

“All of me is yours, mo chridhe. Every part,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion and need. He had waited centuries to find the person who would so thoroughly complete him.

You smiled, leaning forward to press your lips to his, a kiss that was so soft compared to the heat of this moment. Reaching behind you, you guided his length to your core, gasping soundlessly as you lowered slightly. The stretch of him was much more than you were used to, and his eyes widened as you slid just past the tip.

Your thighs held you suspended as your mouth dropped open in a silent whine. “Shh, little dove,” Halsin rubbed his large palms soothingly over your thighs. “I know. Easy,” he murmured, moving his hands back to your hips and back to your ass, squeezing to distract you from the sting of the stretch.

When your breathing had evened again, you made yourself drop all the way down, ass and thighs slapping against his hips. “Halsin,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back as your body adjusted to the intrusion.

Halsin let out a guttural moan, hands tightening on your hips. “Gods. You feel… exquisite.” You managed to look at him to watch the green and gold in his eyes battling for dominance. His abdomen was tense and chest tight, as though holding back.

“Take me,” you tell him. “Have me. I am yours.”

“Are you sure, my dove?” He asked breathlessly. “I fear if I take control I will not… give what you deserve.”

“Please,” you whimpered, shifting slightly with a moan as he reached the deepest parts of you. Halsin’s eyes went straight to the bulge in your lower abdomen where he rested, and he groaned.

With a smooth motion, not disconnecting the two of you, Halsin flips you onto your back, holding himself over you with one hand beside your head. “You are beautiful,” he muttered, free hand trailing over your body.

Slowly, he began to thrust, the drag of his cock numbing your mind to any thoughts but those of him and this moment. “Fuck, Halsin,” you moaned. His thrusts weren’t fast, but they were hard and deep, hitting every sensitive spot in you.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and the feeling of being so completely taken was both terrifying and exhilarating. But with Halsin, you knew you were safe. His hands roamed over your body, his touch gentle but firm, guiding you through the sensations.

As he thrust deeper, you arched your back, meeting him stroke for stroke. The friction between your bodies was almost unbearable, but you welcomed it, needing the release it promised. Halsin's breathing grew ragged, his muscles tense beneath your nails. You could feel him tensing, and with a gasp, he ground his hips into you one last time. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he thrust deeply, hips snapping as he emptied himself into you. His body shudders as he lets out a long, satisfied groan, his eyes locked onto yours. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he collapses on top of you, their hearts beating in sync.

"Halsin," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. His weight was a comfort, his warmth seeping into you. You closed your eyes, letting the feelings wash over you. This was more than just sex—this was a connection, a bond forged in passion and trust. And in this moment, you knew that you were finally whole.

His eyes met yours, and a smirk fell over his lips as he started trailing kisses down your chest, down your stomach, biting your thighs, as he settled his lips around your clit and sucked.

Your voice broke as you moaned, back arching up off the mattress. “Oh–” Your mouth fell open as your hands tangled in his hair. You couldn’t decide whether you were trying to pull him closer or push him away.

You felt his tongue swipe through your folds, and he moaned, tasting both your essence and his, and by the gods if it wasn’t the best meal he’d ever had. "Fuck," you hissed, feeling the pleasure build up inside you. Halsin's tongue and lips worked in tandem, driving you wild with each flick and suck. Your hips bucked up against him, seeking more contact, more of that incredible sensation.

You could feel your body tense, every muscle coiled tight. "Halsin," you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. And then, with a cry that echoed off the trees, you shattered. Waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you panting and weak as you came down from the high.

Halsin kissed his way back up your body, his green eyes full of love and satisfaction. He pressed his lips to yours, tasting your warmth mixed with his own. "My heart," he murmured, trailing his fingers down your side.

You sighed, curling into him. The world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment. You knew this was just the beginning, but for now, you were content to bask in the afterglow of your union.

He pulled you against his warm body, cradling you like a babe as he rubbed your back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Worry no more, mo chridhe, I have you.”

“What does that mean?” You asked sleepily. “You said it more than once.”

“My heart,” he answered. “For that is what you are and what you hold,” he told you.

You only hummed in response, nuzzling your face into his chest. “Will I see you again?” You were not a fan of asking the hard questions, for you always feared it would end with your heart broken.

“As long as you wish it, I will be here. I have responsibilities in Reithwin, but I promise to visit often,” he squeezed your hip lightly. “Push those worries from your mind and rest. It has been a long day and a longer night. Sleep, little doe. I will be here when you wake.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement to fall into a peaceful slumber.

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

A/N: This was so freeing to write and just enjoy while I'm trying to cope with life. I can’t believe it took me a literal month.

I hope you enjoy!

Let me know if you want to be added to the Halsin Tag List

Tag List: @leiotyp @thoughts-of-bear @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @madschiavelique

78 notes · View notes