#let's just say I'm always making the reader a healing mutant bc it's easier

[feyhunter78]

Dearer than I?

Description: You must choose between betraying your dear friend or your dearest love. Got bored during my last half hour of work, and that TikTok audio has been stuck in my head, so here's my attempt to purge it from my mind. Enjoy!!!

His hand is outstretched, patient but pleading, his eyes, dark and intense, but somehow still soft as sunlight settling on the ocean floor.

Your arms are wrapped around yourself, tight and desperate, attempting to keep yourself from metaphorically spilling onto the sand, a bloody mess of grief and regret, of anger and loss.

“Please in yakunaj.” His voice is a whisper, breaking at the end, and it feels as if someone has taken a spear and jammed it through your chest.

You want to look away, you’re desperate to, but cannot. His eyes always draw you back, he need not open his mouth to sing, you were ensnared by a single glance, by the kaleidoscope of warm colors weaved within his eyes.

The invisible thread that exists between you and him keeps you pinned in place. “I would be betraying Shuri, she is my friend, I owe her my life.”

“You would betray me, instead?” He asked, voice still soft, as if it would pain him to raise it.

You wished he would yell, scream, rage, do anything, be anything, but this soft broken K’uk’ulkan that stands before you.

You swallow hard, blinking away tears, your lips move but no sound escapes.

The waves crash on the shore, the nightbirds sing, the wind swirls between the two of you, and you take a step forward. Towards him, the man—the god—the mutant—whatever the hell he is, and he takes in a quick breath, chest expanding as you draw closer.

“I love you.” You manage to utter, your heart in a vice grip, the pressure of the choice you must make weighs so heavily upon you, and you wish to collapse, to drown, rather than make it.

“Then take my hand, burn the world with me.” He pleaded, the moonlight bathing him in her soft glow, shining off the gold he adorned himself with.

All his focus is on you, every flicker within his eyes, every rise and fall of his chest, every syllable that passes through those perfectly formed lips, is for you.

“I would be betraying Wakanda, the very country I left my home to protect, the one who embraced me even though I did not bear her blood.” You stressed, praying he would understand, that somehow, he would make the decision for you.

“And you believe Talkon would not do the same? That they would not welcome you with open arms, that my people would not rejoice in the fact that I have found my queen?” His fingers twitched as if he wished to take your hand, to press it to his heart as he often did when making silent promises.

“I didn’t say that—”

The anguish is clear in his low voice as he cuts you off. “You are mine, my queen, you have stolen my heart and held it captive within your chest. I cannot retrieve it without cracking open your ribs and ripping it out, and to do so—to do so would end me. I cannot fathom harming you in reina, do not force my hand, I beg of you.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, your heart pounds against your chest so strongly for a moment you think that perhaps he is right, his heart resides beside your own, for your heart never possessed such strength. “If I could return it to you, I would, K’uk’ulkan I would never wish you pain, never wish to force your hand.”

His tone is angry now, words sharp as the weapons his people favor, but his eyes remain swirling pools of grief. “I do not want it back, it is yours. I want you. I want the woman I love by my side, where I can protect her.”

You’re on the brink of sobbing, of falling to the sand and crying until your tears flow, so heavily you become one with the sea. “I cannot betray them; they are dear to me.”

His fingers curl inwards, slowly, mournfully. “Dearer than I?”

You shake your head, mind a whirlwind of choices, of answers, of guilt and grief, and want.

You want to be with K’uk’ulkan, you want to ease his pain, to smooth out the furrow of his brow, to sit by his side and be his queen. You are both immortal, if Talkon remained hidden, you would rule together for eternity.

“No, no one is dearer than you.” You admit, half-adoringly, half-helplessly.

You are helpless against the torrent that is your affections for him, helpless to the call of his heart to yours. He’s wrong, his heart does not reside within your chest, beside your own, for yours has slipped between the cracks of your ribs and into his own. He carries your heart as you carry his.

“Then I do not under—”

It’s your turn to cut him off. You take his hand, unfurling it, and bringing it to your cheek before you kiss him. Fervently, desperately, wishing to drown in him before your grief chokes you. “No one, there is no one dearer than you.” You assure him, willing your heart to return to your chest, to free him from this torment.

Your heart gives no answer except beating in time with his, two drums of war echoing each other’s call.

He cradles your cheek, his free arm wrapping around your waist, crushing you against him. “In reina, in reina, in reina.” He whispered over and over as he brushed soft, grateful kisses to every inch of your skin. “I love you, only you, I am yours.”

“I am yours, your queen.” You echo, letting him take you under, the world muffled by the sea.

You would not face Shuri, would not return to Wakanda until she was long dead, perhaps then you could seek forgiveness from her grave.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @starlady66