#she escaped an abusive mother and founded a family of her own but when she came back they were older and colder... oh and there's this guy

[arggghhhsstuff]

heyy i would like more of how thalia's time as a tree affected her please. was she asleep? was she conscious at all? did she feel trapped, or at peace? could she tell when someone was approaching? did it change her?? chat did it change her. does she miss it??? she is not the same girl she once was, that is much clear. but why, exactly. what changed. i have so many questions

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Despite Danny's best efforts, no matter how much time past, Amity Park refused to see Phantom as a hero.

Sure, there were pockets of support, particularly among teens, but most of the town blames Phantom for the property damage, saying if he didn't fight the ghosts then it wouldn't be so bad, to that time he got mind controlled by Freakshow and "attacked" the mayor. It wears him down. It wears Tucker and Sam down. Jazz can only try to support them all.

Then one day, a member of the Justice League visits. Someone minor, and kinda a jerk... maybe a Wonder Twin? Zan? Whatever. They don't investigate; they don't look deeper. They listen to the town folks and declare the ghost hunters, Red Huntress and the Fentons, to be the official heroes of the town.

Worse? Danny Phantom is officially considered a villain to the Justice League. Tuck hacks into the Watchtower and confirms that they have a file (a heavily inaccurate file) about how to defeat Phantom.

Danny doesn't think he can do this anymore.

A few weeks later, a young villain escapes into Amity and demands (begs) that Danny help them escape from the hero after them. No idea who, I can't find a lot of info on teen villains in DC, so let's fudge some ages and make it Kyd Wyckyd from the Teen Titans cartoon. Danny agrees, because to hell with the Justice Losers, and they defeat the hero, becoming friends in the process. Kyd confesses that they became a villain after being ostracized bc of how they look, and they've been trying to avoid villain organizations because HIVE was abusive, but it's really hard to be a villain alone bc of all the heroes.

Sam gets an idea. Tucker agrees with the idea. Jazz is just happy they'll end up making friends.

The next day, the Teen Villain Alliance is formed, ready to assist with any teenage illegal shenanigans their allies might get into.

Some notes:

It's created to be a healthier option for teen "villains" to connect with others and support each other.

It's more important that this is for Teens rather than Villains. They're tired of adult villains taking advantage of them. The TVA would rather ally with a teen vigilante than with an adult villain.

Again, no idea who the teen villains are, but Klarion is definitely here. He leaves the Light for the chaos of the TVA. Maybe Ember is there too?

Timeline wise, this is around when Tim is still Robin, but Damien has arrived at Wayne Manor.

This is because, when it comes time to try to infiltrate the TVA, they'll have a convenient child-assassin who has none of the monitors of a teen hero that Phantom immediately picks up on.

Damien, who at this point has been abandoned by his mother, dismissed and scolded by his father, and has had no success at carving his own place in the family, jumps at the chance. He is then surrounded by peers who don't insult him or try to change his behavior (too much; jazz is trying to help him find healthier methods of expressing himself). He... might not want to continue being a spy.

Danny, Sam, Tuck, and Jazz are the founding members.

Danny reinvents himself as the High Prince of the Infinite, Prince Phantom Dark. He got kingship from fighting Pariah Dark, but since he's still alive, he's only a prince. He steals the last name Dark as an intimidation tatic against those in the know; only Danny would have the balls to claim family with Pariah.

Sam works as a powerless villain, but she might no be powerless? Either way, Danny gives her a bunch of repurposed Fenton tech, and she buys the rest with her parents credit card. She does NOT care if that's traced back to the Mansons. She would choose something goth, maybe something spider related or even bat?

I love Pharaoh Tucker, so I think he should get magic powers? Since pharaohs of old were considered the balance between the real and the divine. He's still a tech guy, now he's a tech and magic guy.

Jazz isn't really a villain, more of a team mom who's planning on using everyone's psyche's as her thesis paper. You know what, that's her callsign, she's Psyche. Sometimes she flirts with Nightwing.

[belqva]

₊˚⊹౨ PTOLEMAEA (C.M.) ৎ ₊˚⊹

warnings: emotional and physical abuse, inappropriate comments (only one), parent issues, confessional themes, religious themes, mentions of miscarriages, alcoholism, cheating and gambling

summary: In a church’s embrace, faith and desire collide. A daughter’s silent struggle beneath parents’ guise, seeks solace in forbidden thoughts.

pairing: charlie mayhew x reader

word count: 2.8k

a/n: umm.. what can I say? I’m just a girl and I am obsessed with Nicholas Chavez so ofc I had to write something for him!! Sorry if there are any inaccuracies I am not a roman catholic Christian, and in no ways do I approve of any kind of religious discrimination or whatsoever!! This is just a work of fanfiction. Just to mention yet again English is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes. Feel free to write your thoughts and opinions, requests are open as long as you are respectful!! And as always I hope you enjoy <333

You stood at Sunday morning mass beside your parents, the familiar scent of candles and incense filling the air. Your hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, a delicate bow resting against it—just the way your mother liked it.

You wore a knee-length skirt with an appropriate top, an outfit that aligned with the image of a good Christian girl. You were supposed to be focused on prayer, absorbing the priest’s sermon, but your mind wandered elsewhere.

The morning had already been eventful, and your thoughts kept replaying the chaotic scene at home before you arrived at church.

It had all changed so quickly once you stepped through the church doors. Your mother and father, as if by some silent agreement, shifted into their usual roles.

They greeted neighbors with wide smiles, exchanging pleasantries as though everything in your household was perfectly ordinary. Then, during mass, they stood on either side of you, hands folded in prayer, playing the part of a devout and happy Christian couple.

But it was a charade, and you knew it all too well. Only an hour earlier, their voices had echoed through the house in another heated argument.

Your father, as always, was a shadow of the man you had once imagined he could be. He had wanted a son, a dream he clung to until after your birth. But after several miscarriages, his hope dissolved, replaced by bitterness. His drinking became a constant, and gambling soon followed. He found his escape in these vices, and over time, he drifted further from any sense of family.

Your mother, meanwhile, had her own form of escape. The affairs started when you were still too young to fully understand, but over time, even your father became aware. They would argue and scream, but the fights eventually gave way to indifference. They had stopped trying to fix anything, stopped pretending they even wanted to.

And then there was you. A silent observer, a helpless child who could only watch as her parents’ marriage fell apart piece by piece. You wondered, even at a young age, what you had done wrong. What could you have done differently? Why did you feel like it was your fault?

It wasn’t uncommon for your mother to slap you when things got particularly tense. Your father, too, had his moments—he would make inappropriate comments about your appearance that left you feeling small, but thank God, it never went beyond that.

Still, you tried so hard to be the perfect daughter, the ideal Christian girl. You volunteered at the church, memorized Bible verses, and always said your prayers, hoping that maybe one day it would be enough. Maybe one day Jesus would answer your prayers and fix what was broken.

But as you stood there in church, surrounded by people who had no idea what your life was really like, you felt tired. Tired of pretending, tired of praying for something that never seemed to come.

“Why don’t you focus, sweetheart?” your mother whispered sharply, her breath hot against your ear as she nudged you with her elbow.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, casting your eyes down. You forced yourself to listen to the priest’s voice, though his words washed over you like water over stone. But the truth lingered, always at the back of your mind.

You prayed every day, but sometimes, even you doubted if anyone was listening.

“We talked about this, Y/N. Pull yourself together,” your mother hissed, her voice sharp as she leaned in close.

Then, just as quickly, her face softened into a warm smile when an elderly woman nearby turned to glance your way. The performance was flawless—an image of maternal grace. But you felt the sting of her words sink in, a quiet reminder of how fragile your role in this family really was.

Your attention drifted back to the priest, Father Charlie, whose voice filled the room with conviction. “…Remember, the Lord hears all cries, even those spoken in silence. He sees every tear and knows every sorrow in your heart,” he said, his tone both soothing and firm.

“And He asks that we carry these burdens with faith, for through Him, we are never alone. We are called to forgive, to love, even when it feels impossible. For if He could forgive us, how can we withhold forgiveness from others?”

Father Charlie had been the priest at your church for a few years now, and in that time, he had become somewhat of an enigma to you. He was young, undeniably handsome, with a presence that was both comforting and mysterious.

His words held weight, and you admired him for the way he commanded the attention of the congregation, always knowing what to say.

You were fond of him—perhaps too fond. But you couldn’t entirely blame yourself for it. The girls at your Christian school were the ones who started the gossip.

You thought back to the way they whispered about him, shamelessly thirsting after him as though he were some untouchable prize.

“Did you know he was a personal trainer before he became a priest?” one of the girls had said, wide-eyed.

“What a waste,” another had added, grinning. “Who wouldn’t want to be with a man like him?”

At first, you found their comments disgusting and inappropriate. You tried to dismiss them as nothing more than vulgar fantasies. But then, despite yourself, the idea of Father Charlie as something other than a priest began to creep into your mind.

You imagined what he might have been like before his vow to the church. Your cheeks flushed as the thought of him—of his strong body and sharp features—set your nerves alight, and soon an embarrassing heat bloomed in your body, spreading across your skin.

You prayed it away. You really did. You asked God for guidance, for the strength to rid yourself of these sinful thoughts.

You even tried to crush on someone more suitable, someone your age, but it never lasted. Your mind always wandered back to Father Charlie, back to his deep voice and the way he seemed to command every room he walked into.

As he continued preaching, your gaze lingered on him longer than it should have. For the thousandth time, you marveled at his otherworldly face, the perfect symmetry of his jaw, the way his lips moved as he spoke of forgiveness and grace.

And though you knew better, though you told yourself it was nonsense, you swore you saw something—some glimmer in his eyes when they landed on you.

His gaze lingered, just for a moment, but it was enough to send your heart racing. You shifted uncomfortably in the pew, a wave of guilt and excitement washing over you.

What if he knew?

What if he could sense what you were thinking?

Of course, it was impossible. But each time his eyes flickered in your direction, the thoughts in your head grew louder, more intense, and far more dangerous.

You fought to keep your composure, but it felt like you were unraveling. Even as his voice carried on with words of love and forgiveness, you couldn’t shake the weight of your desires—desires that no prayer seemed capable of silencing.

—

The soft echo of footsteps faded as the last congregants filtered out of the church, leaving behind the lingering scent of incense and the faintest hint of candle wax. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, glancing at your parents as they walked toward the car, your mother’s back rigid, your father’s shoulders slumped. A familiar heaviness settled in your chest.

“Aren’t you coming, dear?” Your mother’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp yet feathered with concern.

“Just a moment. I would like to have a word with Father Charlie... alone,” you replied, your voice almost a whisper, tinged with trepidation.

Your mother narrowed her eyes, her expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “Oh dear, I’m sure Father Charlie is quite a busy man. You shouldn’t be bothering him with... pointless nonsense.” Her forced smile did little to mask her annoyance.

“Mother, I—”

A throat cleared nearby, interrupting you. You both turned to see Father Charlie standing there, his friendly smile disarming and warm.

“It’s quite alright, Ms. Y/L/N,” he said, his voice a soothing balm. “I am here to listen to everyone’s worries and thoughts. It is a part of my calling.”

Your mother opened her mouth to protest, but Father Charlie cut her off effortlessly. “I assure you I am more than glad to help your daughter with whatever it is.” His gaze shifted to you, filled with an understanding that made your heart flutter.

After a moment of tense silence, your mother relented, though it was clear she was not pleased. “Well, alright. We’ll be waiting with your father in the car. Don’t take too long.” Her words dripped with coldness as she turned to leave, casting one last accusatory glance your way.

“Yes, Mother,” you murmured, your heart pounding.

“Father Charlie,” she nodded, the tone of her voice suggesting she was dismissing him more than acknowledging him. He smiled again, the kind of smile that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“I hope to see you soon, Ms. Y/L/N,” he said, his tone light but sincere.

As the heavy doors of the church swung shut behind your mother, a sigh escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Father Charlie chuckled softly, the sound like music—a melody far more pleasant than the hymns that had echoed just moments ago. “She is quite the figure,” he observed, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Oh, that she is…” you muttered, the embarrassment creeping into your cheeks.

“Come, walk with me.” He gestured down the long aisle, and you fell into step beside him, your heart racing as you moved past the rows of empty pews. The church felt different now, as if it were just the two of you in a sacred, intimate space.

For a few moments, silence enveloped you both. The quiet was comfortable, yet heavy with anticipation. Then, Father Charlie broke the stillness. “I don’t mean to rush you, but why did you wish to speak with me?” His voice was gentle, with a hint of curiosity.

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat, feeling more vulnerable than ever. “I—um…” The embarrassment was suffocating.

“It’s alright. No need to rush. Take your time,” he encouraged, his gaze unwavering, offering a safe harbor in the storm of your thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart. “Well, I’ve been having some... inadequate thoughts about certain things... and aspects of my life. I’ve tried to pray about it, but it doesn’t seem to help.” The confession spilled out, the weight of guilt and confusion pressing heavily on your chest.

Father Charlie nodded, his expression one of understanding. “That is understandable. Sometimes it is hard for us to connect with the Lord. Temptation is not an easy thing to deal with.” He paused, a shadow crossing his features as if battling something within himself.

“And resisting sin is certainly…” He faltered, the words hanging in the air, unfinished.

“Perhaps coming to a confessional could help?” he suggested, tilting his head slightly, his eyes glinting with a mix of warmth and something else—something deeper.

The thought of confession made your stomach churn, but you felt drawn to him, the connection between you sparking with unexpected intensity. “I don’t know if that’s what I need…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“Sometimes, sharing our burdens can lighten the load we carry. It’s a safe space, a chance to speak freely. I’m here for you,” he assured, his tone steady and inviting.

You looked up at him, caught in the sincerity of his gaze. “It just feels... wrong, you know? I’ve been trying so hard to be the perfect daughter, the perfect Christian. But I keep failing.”

A flicker of something akin to sympathy crossed his features. “It’s not about perfection, Y/N. We all have our struggles. It’s part of being human. What matters is the intention behind our actions and the effort to seek forgiveness.”

His words resonated within you, echoing the very truths you had been grappling with. “But what if my intentions are... inappropriate?” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

Father Charlie stepped a bit closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm embrace. “We all have thoughts that we may not be proud of. It’s what we do with those thoughts that defines us. Have you spoken to anyone about this before?”

You shook your head, feeling exposed. “No, I’ve kept it all inside. I’m afraid of what they might think—especially my mother.”

“Your mother may not understand, but that doesn’t mean you should suffer in silence. You deserve to express your feelings.” His voice was firm, yet tender, grounding you in the moment.

“Do you really think so?” you asked, searching his eyes for reassurance.

“I know so,” he replied, a soft smile breaking across his face. “You are not alone. I’m here, and I’m listening.”

A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words, filling the void of loneliness that had settled within you for so long. “Thank you, Father Charlie,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, a sound that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. “It’s my calling to help. You’re brave for reaching out; that’s a step in the right direction.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the weight of your worries still pressing down but feeling a little lighter. “I just wish I could find a way to... reconcile what I feel with my faith.”

Father Charlie nodded, his expression serious yet encouraging. “That’s a journey many embark on, and it’s not always straightforward. But I believe that through honesty—both with yourself and with God—you can find a path that feels right for you.”

His words hung in the air, resonating within you. “But how do I begin?”

“Perhaps we can start with confession. It’s a way to unburden yourself—an opportunity to speak openly without fear of judgment. I would be honored to guide you through it.”

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and terrifying. “I’ve never done that before,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

“It’s perfectly alright. Everyone starts somewhere. Just remember, it’s a safe space,” he reassured, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. “Okay... I’ll think about it.”

Father Charlie’s smile widened, a genuine warmth emanating from him. “That’s all I ask. Just take your time.”

You felt a sudden rush of emotions, a mixture of gratitude, fear, and something akin to hope. “Thank you, Father. For listening, for understanding.”

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N,” he replied softly. “Remember, you are not alone in this.”

The moment felt suspended in time, an electric charge hanging in the air between you. You were acutely aware of his presence, the way he seemed to draw you in, making the world outside fade away.

But reality came crashing back as you glanced toward the church doors, where the shadows of your parents loomed. “I should go,” you said reluctantly, the weight of the outside world pressing back in.

“Of course,” he said, his tone understanding, yet a hint of disappointment lingered in his eyes.

As you turned to leave, you felt a sudden urge to say more, to linger in that moment just a little longer. “Father Charlie?”

“Yes?” He looked at you, his expression expectant.

“Can I—can I come back and talk to you again?”

“Anytime, Y/N. My door is always open for you.”

You nodded, a small smile breaking through the uncertainty. “Thank you.”

With one last glance, you stepped toward the heavy doors, your heart racing with the thrill of what you had just shared. As you pushed them open, the sunlight flooded in, illuminating the path ahead.

“See you soon, Y/N,” Father Charlie called after you, his voice wrapping around you like a promise.

You took a deep breath, feeling lighter as you stepped outside, the echoes of your conversation lingering in your mind. The conflict within you still simmered, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a spark of hope.

As you made your way to the car, your mother’s cold gaze met yours, but you held your head high. You were beginning to understand that seeking guidance, even from a handsome priest who stirred feelings you never knew you could possess, was a step toward finding your own truth. And perhaps, just perhaps, you were on the brink of discovering a deeper connection to both your faith and yourself.

© COPYRIGHT BELQVA 2024

SHARING THIS, ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS OR A TRANSLATION OF THEM WITHOUT CONSENT ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN !!!

THE PLOT OF GROTESQUERIE OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS EXCEPT FOR THE ONES I CREATED DO NOT BELONG TO ME THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FANFICTION !!!

tags:

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag IV (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

🎄 ༺𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂༻༺𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼༻🎄

~

“Oh! Well, aren’t those pretty?”

Your mother’s voice pulled your attention away from the flowers in front of you, throwing her a small smile as she neared you to admire them. You gave her the card when she eyed it, and you watched her smile grow, a fond chuckle escaping her.

“That’s sweet,” she praised. “Is Rafe coming by later?”

It seemed like such a silly question because you and Rafe saw each other almost every day, and your mother knew it.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sitting at the island and fingering a red petal. “He’s doing something for Ward, but he’s coming straight over when he’s done.”

She hummed, and you heard her fussing around in the drawers looking for something. Your gaze was glued to a rose, noting that Rafe got you red this time—your favorite—and you swallowed. It was always the same. Rafe would hurt you so bad that he felt compelled to make it up to you, the flowers would be delivered to your doorstep, your parents would gush, and you’d forgive him with a smile…and then the cycle would repeat.

You plucked a petal, rolling and squashing it between your fingers.

“It’s about time he starts getting prepped on all the family business, isn’t it?”

You glanced up as she took out a pan, her gaze briefly meeting yours.

“Yeah, I guess so. Ward has been asking him to do more things lately, and I know it’s usually work related, so…” you shrugged. “Only a matter of time.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer.

“Good,” she firmly said with a nod. “He can’t provide for you on daddy’s money forever.”

She chuckled to herself, but you could only swallow down bile.

“Rafe is upstanding and all of those things we want for you, but he needs to learn to make money on his own. We’ll never give him our blessing otherwise.”

Again, you said nothing, only looking at the stains on your fingers. Your entire volatile future being mapped out for you should’ve scared you beyond reason, and it sometimes it did, but in this moment, you only felt a numbness that was all too familiar. It all just felt so inevitable, so you didn’t see any sense in fighting it. With a sigh, you stood.

“I’m going to take these up to my room.”

“Put them on the table by your window, so they can get good sunlight,” she threw over her shoulder.

After doing what your mother advised, you turned to your mirror, intently staring at the face in the reflection. The fading bruise on your cheek was nowhere to be found under your makeup, and you were relieved that the same could be said for your neck. A deep inhale had your stomach aching only a tad, and you told yourself that Epsom salt baths could only do so much.

You rolled your eyes, lips pursing at the thought of JJ Maybank.

Naturally, you knew that this wasn’t really his fault. If Rafe were a normal boyfriend, you wouldn’t be covering up bruises with makeup and long-sleeved shirts in the house you’d rather not wear. You knew that Rafe didn’t actually need a reason and that no one could push him to do anything he didn’t want to do. Rafe was never the kind of guy to do anything he didn’t want to do. However, with all of that being said…

You really didn’t like JJ Maybank.

Some part of you knew that Rafe must have provoked him. You knew your boyfriend well, so you knew that without a doubt, but none of that changed the fact that you still had ugly discoloration from where Rafe had pushed you into his dresser. None of that changed the fact that JJ was the catalyst. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have talked to him anyway, but you’d only been trying to be nice.

Trying to do the right thing.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, and knowing that Rafe never rang it, you didn’t give it much thought. At least until you heard your mother calling your name moments later, and you were forced to descend the stairs in confusion. That confusion wasn’t eased in the slightest when you came face to face with Sarah.

She looked sheepish while your mother only smiled.

“Sarah’s here for you. I offered her something to eat, but she’s insistent that she isn’t staying long,” your mother said, briefly touching the other girl’s arm. “You tell Rose to call me. I have a bone to pick with her.”

They both chuckled—obvious that your mother was teasing—and you watched her disappear into the kitchen before resting your gaze on the blonde before you.

“I’m going to get something to eat at The Wreck. You want to come with me?”

You swallowed a sigh, glancing away and folding your arms over your chest. You didn’t know where this desire for a budding friendship came from, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. You and Sarah had only ever been friendly, and considering the company she kept, you’d had no desire for anything more. Being friends with Sarah just felt like a recipe for disaster.

“Sarah…”

She spoke up before you could, huffing and stepping towards you.

“I think Rafe treats you like shit,” she admitted, making sure her voice didn’t carry. “I know you love him and see something in him the rest of us don’t, but everything about you just seems wrapped up in him and…he seems very happy to keep things that way.”

You pressed your lips together, eyeing her.

“I don’t like it, and considering I don’t have much say, I figure the best I can do is be your friend. It’ll just make me feel better to know you have someone other than Rafe.”

Her lips turned up as she said his name, crossing her own arms over her chest.

“I’ve thought this for a while, by the way, and I just…” she shifted her feet, shrugging. “I don’t know. I just can’t take it anymore.”

With a sigh, you dropped your arms, and you knew that Sarah could tell what you were going to say.

“Come on! It’s lunch at The Wreck. We won’t be going all the way to Charlotte—Rafe will know where you are. He’s caught up with our dad, anyway, and they’re probably not going to be done until this evening,” she practically pleaded.

It was tempting, you had to admit, even if it did make you feel a little pathetic.

“I don’t know. I’d have to call Rafe and-.”

“You’d have to call Rafe, are you serious?” she scoffed before reaching for her own phone, and you reached for her. “I’m calling him.”

Your eyes widened.

“Sarah…”

Rafe’s tone could be heard even through the phone when he answered, and you felt your heart race.

“I wanna go to lunch with your girlfriend, and since you’re so uptight about knowing where she is at all times and who she’s with…”

The other girl trailed off as he spoke.

“Rafe, you’re stuck with dad for most of the day! I want to go eat, and I want her to come with me… Yes, just me,” she threw you a look at that to which you only looked away. “God, you’re so crazy, you literally treat her like a damn puppy.”

She shoved the phone at you, and understanding what was happening, you sighed.

“Hey,” you softly said once her phone was to your ear. “She just showed up here, Rafe and…”

“She said it’s going to be the two of you.”

You could tell by his tone that he wasn’t thrilled, right now, but you also knew it wasn’t just from Sarah and her antics. Rafe felt cornered. It wouldn’t look good for him to forbid you from going, and if he convinced you to give Sarah some piss poor excuse, she’d likely just ignore it. There wasn’t much you and Rafe agreed on, but you did admit that Sarah Cameron often got her way.

You heard Rafe mutter under his breath, and you didn’t doubt he was cursing Sarah’s name.

“I don’t see why she’s hellbent on butting into your life all of a sudden…”

His tone didn’t make you enthusiastic, and when your eyes met Sarah’s, they looked hopeful. You didn’t really understand why Sarah was taking so much interest in befriending you. You heard her reasoning, of course, but this was new territory, and you didn’t know how to handle it. However, you decided that it didn’t matter. Your boyfriend’s sister wanted to have lunch with you, and if it would satisfy her then so be it.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you told Rafe something you knew he’d like to hear.

“While I have you, I wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

You heard him exhale, and you didn’t need to be with him to know the look on his face. It was the look he often wore whenever he brought you flowers—a mix of smugness and triumph with that small smirk dancing along his lips. Rafe cared about being seen as the perfect boyfriend, but he also cared about your complicity just as much. If he could placate you after a really bad fight, then he could prevent the rare backlash.

The last time you’d threatened to leave Rafe after one of the worser fights was half a year ago. The bouquet he’d given you then hadn’t meant all that much to you when you threw them on the floor. It hadn’t ended the way you wanted to but instead in tears and Rafe convincing you that you were just upset and needed to cool down. He liked to avoid that if he could.

“I wasn’t expecting red, and I was just really happy to see that. It made me feel a lot better,” you told him.

Rafe was silent for a few moments before sighing, albeit with an annoyed lilt. Your gaze met Sarah’s again just as he spoke.

“Just for a little bit. Not too long because I could finish up early with my dad, so…”

“No, yeah, we won’t be long,” you assured him. “It’s just going to be me and Sarah.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. Let’s hope it stays that way,” he told you.

His tone was clipped, and although he didn’t say it, you knew that there was a silent addition to that statement.

For your sake.

With a nod and a soft goodbye, you gave Sarah her phone back. Her face was expectant, and when you told her you needed to get your jacket, she beamed.

Sarah had a pout on her face as she played with one of her fries, shaking her head.

“I just don’t get it,” she mumbled. “What do you see in him?”

The drive to The Wreck was far from long and had mostly been filled with awkward small talk. You couldn’t recall a time you’d ever been alone with Sarah for this long, let alone long enough to have several conversations. It was such an odd thought considering you’d been dating Rafe for two years. The more the minutes went by though, the easier the conversation seemed to flow.

However, you now found yourself in the middle of lunch and on a topic you felt was inevitable, to be honest.

Sarah’s gaze was questioning, and you struggled to come up with an acceptable answer. You couldn’t very well tell her that her brother was actually an abusive rapist who terrified you beyond belief. You couldn’t tell her that he’d threatened to kill you on several occasions. It wasn’t possible to tell her that, in truth, you saw nothing worthwhile in Rafe, and you’d merely accepted your future with him.

Instead, you managed to think back to the very beginning of your relationship when you actually loved him.

“He knows what he wants, and I like that…”

It was a trait you’d admired in him once, feeling flattered by how boldly he’d asked you out. Those were the days when you looked forward to seeing Rafe and whatever gift he had for you and whatever date he had planned. That was a time when you’d literally fall asleep on the phone with him, and these days you would be relieved if you could go several hours without even hearing his voice.

“He’s also very generous, and he looks out for me, and he loves being around me. He’s just…so happy when we’re together.”

Everything that came out of your mouth was no longer applicable to your boyfriend, but at one point in time it had been. Without realizing it, your face fell, and you picked at your food. Sarah had a thoughtful look on her face as she mulled over your words before taking a sip of her lemonade.

“Looks out for you,” she repeated. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

You threw her a look, and she merely shrugged, throwing her hands up.

“I’m just saying! He treats you like he doesn’t want anybody to come near you,” she said, disgusted. “His own sister wants to hang out with you, and you needed to call him for that? That doesn’t sound crazy to you?”

The frown on her face was deep, and you only shrugged.

“You know what he’s like Sarah. You know how…paranoid he can get.”

“Yeah, paranoid that you might actually prefer being in someone else’s company instead,” she scoffed.

You merely sent her a small smile, thinking that she had no idea of the half of it. Before the conversation could continue, two familiar faces walked into the restaurant, and you felt your heart sink. Sarah seemed excited to see her friends, of course, while you, on the other hand, only had an aching desire to leave.

When your eyes met a slowly increasingly familiar blue pair, you couldn’t stop your frown.

You glanced away, and when Pope greeted you, you only sent him a smile in return. Telling yourself that you had the worst luck, you leaned over to reach for your purse. Sarah was talking to the two of them, but when she heard the sound of your keys, the conversation paused.

“I think I should go,” you answered the silent question on her face.

You hated the way it fell.

“We haven’t even been here an hour. Do…?” she trailed off glancing at Pope and JJ. “I know that it’s supposed to be just the two of us, but Rafe won’t know.”

“Sarah,” your tone said it all, and she stood up with you when you went to pay for your food.

“Stay,” she practically begged. “Rafe isn’t here to be his normal asshole self, and you know I won’t tell.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you mumbled, craning your neck for either Mr. or Mrs. Carrera.

By the sound of her sigh, you had a feeling she’d witnessed JJ’s conversation with Rafe that day in their house.

“JJ didn’t mean much by that. He was just stooping to Rafe’s level, wanted to piss him off.”

“Well, you can tell him it worked,” you said, throwing her a tight smile.

Her brows drew together, and she ran her eyes over you, concerned.

“What, was Rafe mad at you for that?”

“What do you think, Sarah?” you slowly wondered, fully facing her.

You could see on her face that she hadn’t considered that possibility, and her shoulders sagged.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m sure JJ wouldn’t have said anything if he’d known it was going to come back on you. I’ll talk to him, just please stay.”

You touched your forehead, glancing over her shoulder and quickly looking away when your eyes met the man in question’s.

“They’re your friends, not mine. I really should go…”

She perked up.

“Well, they don’t have to just be my friends-.”

“No, Sarah. I can’t be friends with them-.”

“Why, because of Rafe?” she incredulously wondered. “Do you hear how crazy that sounds?”

You ignored her when the familiar woman came from the back, quickly paying for your meals. When you were done, you only gave Sarah an even look, grabbing your purse.

“You know what your brother is like. Pope can take you home, right?”

You could see on her face that she wanted to argue this some more, a deep frown on her face, but you witnessed the decision to save it for another time. You weren’t stupid enough to think she was going to let this go. She eyed you.

“We’re probably going to John B.’s later, so yeah. I can leave with them.”

Preferring to ignore her mood, you smiled and thanked her for the invite. You said goodbye to Pope and JJ on your way out, thinking of just how shitty your luck was. You’d never put it past Rafe to drop in on you, and you didn’t want to imagine how things would be if he witnessed you having lunch with anyone other than Sarah…but especially Pope and JJ. You were just at your car when you heard hurried footsteps behind you, and you tensed at the sound of your name.

Unfortunately, the face matched the voice when you turned around.

JJ wasn’t close to you, but he was close enough to where you leaned against your car in an effort to put space between you. If he noticed, he said nothing, and you watched him run his hand through his blond locks. You didn’t know what he wanted and considering the last result of a conversation with him, you warily eyed him.

“Look, Sarah told me that Rafe was mad at you about what I said,” he sounded apologetic. “I didn’t know that.”

“Why? You knew it would piss him off. That’s why you said it.”

He frowned, glancing away.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think…”

“At the very best you knew it would cause conflict between us. Again…that’s why you said it,” you told him.

JJ stared at you, and you watched him blink, tilting his head.

“Do you ever wonder why you have a boyfriend who loses his shit anytime you even so much as look at another man?”

You scoffed.

“Don’t try to turn this around-!”

“I mean, it’s the truth. You felt bad, you apologized, and call me crazy, but I don’t think that’s something he should get mad at you for,” he casually said with a shrug.

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t get paid to think.”

You watched his brows raise in shock at your words, a budding smile on his lips. JJ crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing you from head to toe, and you felt something twist in your gut at his perusal.

“Are you always this feisty or is that privilege just reserved for me?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to open your door when he spoke again.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I mean that…”

You hesitated, your gaze focused on your window. You stared at his reflection in it.

“I won’t say anything next time. Ever again, actually.”

With a resigned sigh, you accepted his apology, opening your door.

“There won’t be a next time,” you told him, glancing at him as you slid inside. “We’re not friends, JJ, and we’ll never be. Stop talking to me, I mean it.”

Your words held conviction, but you felt like JJ didn’t take them seriously. He only eyed you, slowly nodding as you closed your door. Resisting the urge to glance at him again, you drove off, only feeling relief the closer you got to your house.

It was the middle of the night when you found yourself in the Camerons’ kitchen, getting something to drink because sleep was evading you. You knew that you couldn’t be gone for long, no telling when Rafe would notice the lack of body heat next to him. The rest of the house was asleep, and Sarah was with John B.

…and so that was why you were startled by the front door opening.

You could tell they were trying to be quiet, but hushed tones and the shuffle of feet was loud to anyone who was awake—you. Blinking, and filled with a mix of curiosity and concern, you made your way to the kitchen entrance. It was dark, but not dark enough to make the three figures hard to make out. When you turned on the light, Sarah actually jumped in shock.

You could tell that she hadn’t expected anyone to be up, but even as she approached you, it wasn’t her nor John B. you were focused on. The blond with them looked almost unrecognizable to you, and you sharply inhaled at the sight of him. He was barely able to stand—no matter how much he tried to—and you could only pull your eyes away when Sarah whispered your name.

“I’m just here to use our first aid kit,” she told you, trying to explain. “John B. doesn’t have shit at his house, and Kie’s parents are so anal about JJ—any of her friends besides me, really.”

Once you gathered your thoughts, you blinked at her, shaking your head.

“It’s your house, Sarah. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you assured her.

“I know, but I’d just really rather not wake anyone up…and it’s also not something I feel like explaining to anyone.”

She glanced over her shoulder, giving John B. a nod, and you watched him pull JJ towards the downstairs guest bathroom. Your lips parted, and you looked at Sarah again.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Sarah pressed her lips together, and when she rolled her eyes, you could see the irritation and anger on her features.

“He always is,” she snidely replied.

At your concerned and questioning look, her face fell some.

“It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before,” she finally admitted. “His dad…”

Sarah trailed off with a shrug, and you swallowed.

“Oh,” was all you said, your heart sinking. “I’d heard things, but…I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“I just don’t get why he doesn’t go live with John B. or something,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just because Luke is family…”

She sneered the man’s name, and you felt your frown deepen.

“It’s probably not that simple.”

At the look she gave you, you hurried to continue.

“I just mean it’s probably not that black and white for JJ. No one likes staying anywhere that’s bad for them, but maybe there’s a sense of loyalty he can’t shake yet,” you explained. “If he left his house for good, he just might end up feeling guilty.”

Sarah thought that over, eyeing you in the process.

“Maybe. That doesn’t make it any easier to witness this time and time again,” she sighed.

You didn’t say anything to that, unsure of what to say. When she left to join John B. in assisting their friend, you weren’t keen on retreating to Rafe’s bedroom just yet. You weren’t some professional psychologist, but you didn’t need to be to know why the sight of JJ and the confirmation of his volatile home life affected you so much.

The sight of his bloody and bruised face was unfortunately reminiscent for you.

Your feet made the decision for you, grabbing another glass of water before rummaging in your purse for some painkillers. Sarah was in the hall when you walked around the corner, and she straightened at the sight of you. The bathroom door was cracked, but John B.’s voice carried as he talked to JJ.

“Here, give him these.”

She took the pills and water with a small smile, thanking you. The moment was interrupted by JJ’s tone.

“I can stand just fine,” he sighed. “Just give me a minute…”

John B.’s protest was clear, but you surmised that JJ waved him off, getting his way when the door swung open. The brunette was briefly thrown by the sight of you before acknowledging you, making his way outside. The sound of your name in the air got JJ’s attention, and you wondered just how out of it he’d been to only just now realize you were up.

“Here. Y/N brought these for you,” Sarah told him, voice stern as she demanded he take them.

Getting the hint that he wanted a moment to himself, Sarah took a step back.

“Make sure he takes those,” she told you before going to join her boyfriend.

Truthfully, Rafe was the last thing on your mind as you looked at JJ. Now that his face was clean, he didn’t look as bad, but the bruising and cut on his lip still made you frown. You and he were so far from friends, so standing in the hallway while he leaned one hand on the sink started to feel awkward. You were just about to remind him of the pills and leave when he spoke.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

The observation wasn’t the most astute, and you frowned in confusion. When he swung his head to face you, straightening with difficulty, you didn’t miss the way his blue eyes ran along your face.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he repeated. “…and your face is caked in makeup. Is that one of Rafe’s conditions? Remain perfect at all times?”

You pressed your lips together as he popped the painkillers, swallowing them down with the entire glass of water. You couldn’t very well tell him that you’d spent fifteen minutes covering the bruises on your cheek and neck before coming down on the off chance that you ran into a Cameron that wasn’t Rafe.

“I forgot to wash my face,” was your simple answer.

Your tone was light, unconvincing, and you could tell that JJ didn’t believe you. You didn’t know how, but something about the glint in his eye told you so.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said. “About your dad.”

The blond moved to lean against the doorjamb, staring at you.

“Don’t be. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be,” you argued.

“Yeah, well, we’re both used to a lot of things we shouldn’t be,” he said, making you bristle. “I should’ve known better. After all…I know what he’s like.”

You didn’t appreciate having your own words thrown back in your face, doubly so because JJ didn’t realize just how much it messed with you. It was funny. When you told him that about Rafe, it made sense to you. That was how you maneuvered around Rafe and so you just wanted JJ to learn to maneuver around him the same way if he wanted to avoid his temper.

Now, however, hearing him repeat that about his own father just made you feel…nauseated.

“That’s not an excuse-.”

“Isn’t it?” JJ wondered, moving closer.

He held your gaze, and the look in his eyes had you biting the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t stop your frown, nostrils flaring at the words he silently threw at you. He didn’t say them, but he didn’t need to.

“That’s different,” you argued.

JJ frowned, head tilted in confusion.

“How so? My dad’s an asshole, Rafe’s an asshole,” he drawled. “Now, Rafe may not be a physically abusive asshole, but walking on tippy toes around him just to navigate his shitty personality isn’t exactly healthy.”

You stumbled back when JJ took another step towards you, lips parting when he cut you off.

“You can’t even have lunch with his sister without the fear of some guy that isn’t Rafe crashing the date…because you know he would just fly off the handle.”

You swallowed down your anger and annoyance at how right he was, glancing away with a huff.

“You don’t know anything about my relationship.”

“I know enough,” he fired back with a smirk.

When your back grazed the wall, it was then that you realized just how close he was. The bruising on his face looked so much scarier this close, and your eyes traced the blood on his lip. Your heartbeat was uneven at his close proximity, and you pressed yourself further into the wall. JJ’s eyes flitted between your own, and when you swallowed, they zeroed in on the action, gaze lingering on your throat.

“I know that if I kissed you, right now…” you sharply inhaled at that. “You wouldn’t tell Rafe…and not because you don’t want to hurt him…”

You slapped his hand way when it reached for your chin.

“…but because you’re fucking terrified of him.”

You furiously blinked, struggling to respond to that.

“You’re an asshole,” was all you could muster up with a frown, voice trembling.

JJ only softly chuckled to himself, nodding.

“Assholes are your type, so that doesn’t sting the same coming from you.”

Pushing your way out from in between him and the wall, you stomped away. You refused to look at him when he thanked you for the drugs, fighting to ignore the goosebumps along your arms underneath Rafe’s shirt.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (2/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, physical abuse, abuse of power, violence, panic attack ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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"Rȳbās." She heard her father's voice in her memories. "Repeat."

"Ribās." She mumbled, rocking her small, short legs as she sat on his knee, looking at the book in which were written the commands by which dragon riders could communicate with their dragons and soar through the skies.

She had only seen Caraxes from afar and always squealed with joy at the sight of him.

It meant she would see her father.

"No." Her father sighed, twisting in his seat. "Rȳbās. Again."

"Ribās." She repeated, this time confident that she had said the word correctly.

Her father rose and set her down on the ground, closing the book, throwing it on the table, her body instantly moving to follow him in a subconscious reflex, a cry escaping from her throat as it always did when she failed to please him, and he walked away.

"No. No, let me try again. Ribās. Ribās. Ribās." She wailed after him, choking on her own tears, watching his silhouette disappear into the depths of the corridor, his short white hair.

She couldn't remember his face.

When her mother's body was found among the hills away from the fortress, voices were raised by people who said that they had seen Caraxes in the skies that same day. She knew that her mother would not have thrown herself off the precipice, and she understood that in doing so her father had freed himself from them once and for all.

She felt satisfaction at the thought that his second wife had given him only daughters.

The gods had punished him.

He had no heir.

She didn't remember her mother's face either, but perhaps that was because she didn't want to recall her disappointment – she knew that she didn't want to carry his child, that she abhorred him, and yet she had been forced to give birth to his daughter.

She knew she should not have been born, and yet she existed.

She decided to pretend that she was the child of ordinary lords, giving up the right to inherit Runestone to one of her cousins in return for being allowed to stay in the fortress. Royce's family, although rather stodgy in their dealings, showed her much care and support – she couldn't say she lacked anything, and her life was peaceful as long as King Viserys lived.

And then it happened.

Two men burst into her chamber, pressing a cloth soaked in some foul-smelling liquid to her mouth which made her lose consciousness and she only woke up in a carriage that was closed on both sides.

For a moment she naively believed that her father had done it.

That he wanted her on his side in the battle for power for his third wife, heir to the Iron Throne.

And then she noticed the emerging silhouette of King's Landing in the distance.

She had only heard of this place from stories: the great Red Keep towering over the entire city and harbour, sunshine and cloudless skies all around it.

She wanted to laugh at the thought that one of her father's opponents had thought they would be able to pact with him because of her.

However, it turned out that she was mistaken once again.

Her one-eyed cousin was like a statue, his jaw drawn and sharply pointed, adding even more severity to his impassive, stony expression. He was proud and vain, she thought at once, seeing the way he stood, erect and sure, one hand holding a torch, the other placed behind his back, sword and dagger strapped to his belt.

Rider of the greatest dragon in the world.

"Do you know who I am, woman?" He asked, and she struggled not to smile, hearing his forced pretentiousness, the choice of his words such as to instantly degrade her.

Of course she knew.

His black eye patch betrayed him.

"It's hard not to guess." She replied.

His pupil narrowed in frustration, his tongue ran over his lower lip in some subconscious reflex.

He didn't like being spoken to like that.

When he was not shown respect.

When he was not feared.

He was weak, she thought.

"Do you understand why you're here?"

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers in boredom, feeling nothing but immense fatigue.

"Because of my father, I guess. You are wasting your time. I don't represent any value to him. He will not pact with you for my sake." She muttered reluctantly, wanting to let him know that whatever hopes he may have had of her were vain.

She looked at him surprised when he chuckled, turning his gaze away, staring at her a moment later with a look that made her feel discomfort in her stomach.

"You are mistaken. We need your blood." He hummed, as if he were speaking of the weather, something childishly simple and obvious.

She shook her head, looking at him in disbelief, not understanding what he expected of her.

Were they going to slit her veins?

If someone else drank it, would they be able to become a dragon rider?

"We will find one of the wild dragons hidden in the mountain caves and you will try to claim it. You will die, or you will succeed and join the war on our side." He said lightly, and for some reason she burst out laughing, horrified at how ridiculous his words were.

She was going to claim a dragon?

Were they really that desperate?

"I know nothing about dragons or their riders and have no desire to learn about them. This, I think, is something that is destined for those endowed by the gods with white hair. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your family. Behead me or burn me, but spare me this farce." She said mockingly, looking away, recognising that this man had simply lost his mind.

She shuddered and rose from her knees when, a moment later, he opened the door of her cell and rushed in like an enraged bear, throwing his torch to the stone floor, his hand grabbing her neck, her head and body slamming against the wall making everything around her seem blurry for a moment.

"Do you think I'm asking you for your opinion? You will serve me, and you will serve me well, or I will burn not you, but all of the fucking Vale. Only dust and ashes will be left of the people you knew. Is that what you want, my Lady?" He scoffed, arching his full lips and eyebrows in a way as if he sympathised with her, however his gaze was blank, cold, mad, his breath heavy on her face, his chest rising and falling in rage.

She shook her head quickly, feeling his fingers dig into the skin of her neck even harder, making her unable to take a deeper breath despite the fact that she needed the air so badly.

Her head was spinning, his voice seeming to come to her from far away.

"So we have an agreement, as I understand it?" He whispered, leaning over her so that the tips of their noses were almost touching, towering over her to make her feel who had the power, who had the strength, who had the last word.

She merely nodded, breathing loudly through her wide-open mouth, a cold feeling of humiliation surging through her stomach.

"Mmm." He hummed and let her go. She fell to the ground, drawing in air loudly, clutching at her neck, feeling her heart begin to beat anew.

"You will be moved to one of the chambers. You will not lack anything. Serve me well and no more harm will befall you." He said calmly with a kind of threat from which a shiver ran down her spine.

Serve me well.

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Indeed, true to his word, the guards came for her and she walked out of the smelly, dark cell where rats ran around to the upper floor of the Red Keep. The light blinded her and for a moment she could not see where she was going, but then, despite all her reluctance and trepidation, she marvelled for a moment at the rich, beautiful architecture of this castle.

If only she could have come here under different circumstances, at her father's side when she was a little child.

But her father was not here.

Instead, there was her cousin, exactly as self-obsessed as he was.

She thought with pain that they were just alike.

In the small chamber that had been assigned to her, the Queen Mother was waiting for her, accompanied by a knight with rather tanned skin: she thought he came from Dorne.

"My Lady. I ask you to forgive us for what inconvenience you have suffered. I place my old gowns and two of my servants at your disposal." She said, looking her straight in the face with her big, warm brown eyes, plucking at the cuticles around her fingernails in some involuntary, nervous reflex.

She lowered her gaze, silently acknowledging that she had nothing to say to any of them.

"This is the Queen speaking to you. Show respect." Said the knight, Queen Alicent however rebuked him immediately.

"I do not recall allowing you to speak, Ser Criston."

The man looked away and fell silent. The Queen sighed, closed her eyes and swallowed hard, as if she felt shame looking at her.

"Rest." She said simply and left, immediately followed by Ser Criston with a clatter of his silver, shining armour.

She was left alone.

She felt that she needed a bath, tired, sweaty, soaked in the smell of the disgusting cellar they were holding her in – she called one of the servants to bring a tub to her chamber and fill it with warm water.

She wondered, watching these young girls doing their chores, whether she might try to escape, seeing that they had left the door open, but decided that it was pointless.

Even if she did escape, they would find her and bring her here again, and Prince Aemond would burn the Vale.

She lowered her gaze, recognising that she had neither the strength nor the will to stand up.

She was empty inside, she thought, and he could fill her with whatever he wanted.

With his ideas, his desires, his demands.

As she sank into the pleasantly warm water scented with oils of field flowers, she felt better. Her muscles relaxed and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes, deciding to calmly analyse the situation she was in.

Since they were so desperate to abduct her, it meant that her father and Princess Rhaenyra had the upper hand over them.

She was also sure that her cousin, Lord Royce, had already sent a raven to Dragonstone with the word that she had been imprisoned, and since the informations was spreading through the Kingdom like the wind, she was sure that Daemon would be furious.

Would he try to contact her?

She sighed, recognising that she didn't want that.

Because of how much she despised him, even though she was a Targaryen, she used her mother's name.

Royce.

She wanted nothing to do with any of them, but it seemed to her that Prince Aemond was truly mad and that in his rage he really could set off on his mighty dragon to burn and destroy if she betrayed him.

She didn't want to test how mad the Targaryens could really be.

After all, they were bedding their own siblings.

She sighed when one of the servants came in, saying that she had been summoned by the King, who wanted to see her in person. She had chosen a gown most similar to the ones she had worn in Runestone, but as soon as one of the girls wanted to touch her hair she pulled away, feeling an unpleasant shudder.

"No. I'll do it myself." She said, taking a comb in her hand, brushing out strand after strand.

A woman could only wear her hair loose in the privacy of her chamber, for it was a sign of her freedom but also of chaos, where in the world of men there always had to be order.

She decided she didn't care about that.

She was horrified by how many people were sitting in the chamber she had been led to – at the table, she understood, sat the Lords, Queen Widow, the King, and Prince Aemond, looking at her with a malicious grin.

He was proud of himself, she thought and let out a quiet breath, looking away, thinking they were all pathetic.

The King smiled broadly at the sight of her and nodded, as if someone had indeed given him a wonderful surprise.

"Come closer, cousin." He said lightly, so she took a reluctant few steps forward, wondering what she would hear this time.

"We are overjoyed by your presence, even though you were brought here under not very pleasant circumstances. I hope you will quickly forget about these … discomforts and support us in our cause. My brother is extremely eager to prepare you for this." He said as if what they had done to her was no great thing, a mere joke at which she should laugh along with him and willingly go to her death in dragon fire if it turned out that their plan would fail.

That's why she remained silent, recognising that the man sitting in front of her was an imbecile.

"Are you not glad to face your father? Did he not forget you and abandon you for so many years?" He continued, seeing the expression on her face, and she looked at him, feeling absolutely nothing.

"I have nothing to say to you, cousin. Do with me what you wish."

The men around her twisted uneasily in their seats, glancing at the King, clearly afraid of his reaction to her insolent words. King Aegon, however, leaned forward, looking at her intrigued.

"Our family has forgotten you. Left you the fuck knows where, motherless and fatherless. And I am deeply sorry for it."

She swallowed hard, letting the air out loud, feeling the pain in her chest at his words – this reaction of her own surprised her. Looking into his eyes, she thought in disbelief that while he was certainly a fool, the words he had spoken to her a moment ago were sincere.

The last thing she expected from him was sympathy, and it surprised her how much it hurt her.

"You may leave." He said, and she nodded and left, thinking with relief that just a moment longer and the King would have seen something in her gaze that she didn't want.

What she desired.

As long as they didn't know it, none of their threats could do anything to her.

The guards escorted her to her chamber and as they closed the door behind her, she simply threw herself on her bed, wondering if it had all just been a bad dream.

What if she died in the dragon fire?

Did she want to end her life without really experiencing anything?

She never wanted to be a wife or a mother, but she hoped to see something more, to find her own purpose, her own way, away from the dragon war.

Meanwhile, she found herself at the centre of it.

She knew that Prince Aemond would summon her – she could see it in his displeased expression after his brother's words. He did not like the fact that he was trying to besmirch and get close to her, his little toy – he had made it clear in his words that she was not to serve Aegon or the Kingdom, but him.

He had brought her here for himself, to spite her father, and she was to be what he desired.

What he had imagined in his head.

Very well, she thought.

When she walked into his chamber, he was sitting with his back to her; his room was much more spacious than hers, maps and books spread out on the table he was leaning over.

He was planning a war without his brother.

"Come here. Sit down." He said coldly, casting her one weary glance over his shoulder, going back to whatever it was he was preoccupied with before he summoned her.

She walked over to the table and sat down in the chair beside him with a quiet rustling of her gown – he hummed as he slid an open book towards her apparently on a page he cared for her to focus on.

"Can you read?" He asked, and she looked up at him, wondering if he had heard himself.

His gaze changed, suddenly frustrated and impatient so she just looked at the book and started reading, hearing what he was saying in between.

"The dragons understand the language of Old Valyria, and this is how the dragon riders communicate with them. You have to learn to speak the commands properly." He sighed, spreading out comfortably in his seat with his legs crossed, tilting his head back.

"Dohaerās means serve. Rȳbās means listen. These are the most important words, right next to Lykirī, which commands a dragon to remain calm. Repeat."

She felt a powerful, cold shiver run down her back, the memory of that evening, of her, sitting on his lap and his voice.

"Rȳbās." Said her father in her imagination. "Repeat."

She stared dully ahead feeling that she couldn't open her mouth, her throat squeezed tight, her breathing accelerated, heavy with the terror that possessed her, her heart pounding like mad in her chest.

He left because she couldn't say it properly, but after all, he hadn't even explained to her what she had done wrong. He didn't give her a chance to improve, disappointed that she wasn't what he wanted her to be.

Over the years, she kept asking herself the same question.

Did she really not deserve a second chance?

And then she saw darkness before her eyes, and her head hit something hard.

She dreamt that her father was holding her hand. She wasn't sure if it was a memory or her imagination, but she could smell his scent and was sure she heard his voice, though she was unable to open her eyes, her body burning with fever.

"Will she survive?"

"Only the gods know." The Maester replied.

Her father was silent for a moment, his fingers tightening on hers.

"Perhaps it will be better this way."

When she finally woke, the light blinded her. She squinted, closing her eyes, feeling that someone was indeed holding her hand – when she opened her eyelids again she saw Queen Alicent sitting beside her on her bed.

The gesture, the touch of her warm hand on hers was at once pleasurable, motherly, and at the same time uncomfortable – she was not her child, but a stranger, and to her it was an act filled with her guilt, her attempt to alleviate what they wanted to condemn her to.

"How do you feel, sweet girl?" She hummed, though she didn't understand what purpose this question was intended to serve.

Did she think that she would cry now in her arms like a fool, saying that she missed her mother and was afraid?

Even if that were true, she had no intention of confiding in the mother of two self-obsessed men, one worse than the other.

Did she blame herself sometimes for the way they were?

Queen Alicent let go of her hand and lowered her gaze, as if embarrassed by her silence, understanding what she must have been thinking about.

"My son, Aemond. He was such a sweet boy." She said in pain, shaking her head, biting her lower lip.

"After his nephew took his eye he sank into a sense of injustice. He says that Luke's death was an accident, but I don't know if I believe him. I don't recognise him anymore and I warn you that he's unpredictable." She whispered and looked at her, clearly thinking that her words would make any impression on her.

She, however, felt nothing.

"I know."

Prince Aemond circled around her bed like a predator, watching her vigilantly, pacing with his hands folded behind his back, listening to what the Maester was saying.

"The momentary weakness has passed, but she should not strain herself." He said, and the prince hummed under his breath, stopping at the height of her head, looking at him with satisfaction.

"She won't. Leave us alone."

She turned her head away from him, not feeling like listening to what he had to say to her.

"Daemon tried to teach you. Didn't he?" He asked haughtily, apparently convinced that he was right.

She just swallowed hard, feeling a squeeze in her throat at the thought that he wasn't wrong.

"I wouldn't call it teaching." She replied dispassionately, feeling that she was sinking deeper and deeper into the bedding, wanting to melt into one with it.

She shuddered as he leaned over her suddenly, his hands on both sides of her head resting on the pillow, strands of his long hair brushing her face.

"Is there really no desire for revenge in you? To prove him wrong by rejecting you? Don't you want him to curse the day he left you?" He asked, looking her straight in the eye.

He's changed tactics, she thought, wanting to get to her hidden frustrations, pain and disappointment now.

She smiled at his words, his lips twisted in a grimace of displeasure at the sight.

He was enraged.

"I don't care about him. However, I can see that for you the person of my father is very important. You are alike, you and him." She whispered, and he swallowed hard, something in his gaze extinguished, making his iris dark.

"Daemon is a challenge I welcome. I will face him if the need arises. I will not allow the bastard children of my sister-whore to sit on the Iron Throne." He said slowly, choosing each word carefully, as if he knew he needed not only her, but also her loyalty.

And for what reason would she remain by his side if the opportunity came for her to betray him?

"Do you want your brother to remain King?" She asked quietly, and his expression changed – his forehead cleared, his jaw relaxed into an expression that was strangely calm.

Silence.

They looked straight into each other's eyes, and with every second in which his mouth did not leave the confirmation her heart pounded harder and harder in her chest, her lips parted in a sigh of disbelief.

His lips parted too, his gaze grew misty, as if he felt arousal at the thought of what he saw in his head.

Himself on the Iron Throne.

"Serve me well and I will reward you. When the time comes." He whispered and, to her amazement, she felt an unfamiliar sensation between her thighs, a warmth and a pulsing, as if someone had tickled her there.

He rose with a smirk and moved towards the door, telling her that they would begin her training the next morning.

He had her riding attire prepared for her and arranged for her to meet him in the courtyard of the Red Keep. In order to be on time, she had to rise before dawn – by the time she left the gates of the fortress in the company of the guards, the sun was just rising lazily over the horizon.

Prince Aemond gave her one sharp glance before mounting his beautiful brown steed, nodding his head for her to do the same. She therefore climbed with lightness and ease onto the black mare standing just beside him and set off at a gallop after him.

She thought with amusement, feeling the wind in her hair, the front strands of which she had braided back, as he did, that she could easily try to escape with such a well-rested horse at her side, knowing her riding skills.

For the first time, however, she wondered why she should return there?

What kind of life awaited her in Runestone?

Certainly not death in flames, she thought with a smile, but for some reason she didn't fear that.

She would simply become dust and fly with the wind high into the sky.

The prince stopped suddenly, indicating to her with a raised hand to do the same, and jumped down from the saddle. She followed in his footsteps, sinking onto the soft dew-damp grass, trying to catch her breath after the physical exertion, looking around.

She wondered what they were doing among the glades and woods, until she felt the ground around them shake and something she thought was a hill began to slowly rise, a large eye similar to that of a lizard opened.

A dragon.

A dragon as big as a mountain.

"Lykirī, Vhagar." Said her rider, stepping closer to her, extending his hand to her.

Vhagar leaned towards him, apparently trying to understand what was happening, allowing him to touch her jaw – his hand seemed to her to be just the head of a needle compared to her huge body, her muzzle opened in an expression as if she was pleased to see him.

Her heart was pounding like mad, her mouth open wide in a quickened, excited breath.

"Come closer. Slowly, step by step." He called out to her, and she looked at him as if he had completely lost his mind.

Gods, she was so big.

She probably wouldn't even feel it in her throat if she swallowed her.

She felt her legs grow soft, her body quivering all over as she took an uncertain first step forward and then a second, Vhagar's gaze shifted lazily to her, her nostrils releasing the air loudly, enveloping her in warm steam.

She stopped, terrified, as the dragoness suddenly opened her maw, something red appeared in the distance of her throat, as if someone had lit a fire there.

"DAOR, VHAGAR! DAOR!" Exclaimed her rider, and in some act of despair and fear she shouted to her as if she were chastising a little child.

"Rȳbās!"

Vhagar froze motionless, as if confused, staring at her small silhouette standing before her.

"Rȳbās, Vhagar. Daor."

Vhagar closed her maw, a loud sigh escaping from her nostrils, which hit her and made her fall over, dropping to her knees.

She looked at him from a distance and saw that he was pale, his mouth open in a heavy, shuddering breath.

She didn't know why she started to laugh – why she grabbed her stomach, bent over and died of amusement and bitterness, thinking that her father had made a mistake, that he had wasted years of her life, had rejected her believing that she would never be able to do this.

She was panting, feeling her laughter turn to sobs, heavy tears of shame one by one began to run down her cheek onto the grass beneath her hands, her mouth wide open trying to catch air.

She did it, and he wasn't here.

She still remained a nobody, just as she had been before.

Playing with dragons didn't change anything.

She gasped as he grabbed her by the hair and lifted her head up with an aggressive motion of his hand, kneeling beside her, pointing at his dragoness lying right in front of them.

"Do you know what it is? Do you know how much I sacrificed to achieve it? This dragoness has seen Old Valyria, fought in wars when your great-grandparents were not yet in the world. You should fall to your knees before her, you fucking whore, not laugh." He hissed and pushed her forward so that she bent over, as if praying before a statue of a god.

She clasped her hands in the wet grass, panting all over, whooping with her tears, wondering how long she was supposed to last in this position, his fingers clenched in her hair, not allowing her to move away even a little.

"That's it. Show some fucking respect." He sneered, and she clenched her eyes shut, drifting her thoughts away to the pleasant scent of the forest around her, the singing of the birds, the sound of the wind.

She swallowed hard as his embrace eased, her heart thumping harder in her chest as his fingers ran through her smooth curls, sinking finally into the soft skin of the back of her neck.

Her lips parted in disbelief, wondering what he was actually doing, the familiar pulsing between her thighs told her that she was both terrified and aroused by this new, unfamiliar sensation.

She felt her lips swell and her nipples harden as his thumb stroked her skin, her thighs clenched involuntarily with her silent sigh.

He heard it and gasped, tightening his fingers in her hair again, leaning over her ear.

"This position suits you." He whispered and let her go with a firm tug, moving towards his dragoness, placing his hand on her jaw.

"Stand up and repeat everything again."

[velieditss]

A life for a life

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!reader

Cw: Explicit description of abuse (Not from Aemond to reader) grief, bad dreams of Lucerys death (I mean I cried at that kid like I had birthed him, raised him, and paid for all his bills)

Summary: Once, you were a betrothed, but now, you are a widow and a prisoner. Yet, it seems the regent prince has set his sights on you, a gaze that, in truth, was always there, watching you from the shadows. But only now, at this crossroads in your life, does he feel empowered to claim you as his own.

You were the only one who stayed behind when your family returned to Dragonstone. Your only desire was to keep Helaena company, the only one among the king and queen's children with whom you had formed a bond, a fragile thread of affection in a court where alliances were often brittle.

But you didn’t heed her warning—or perhaps you simply didn’t understand it.

“Leave, or he will claim you,” she had whispered, her voice trembling with an urgency that you failed to grasp.

You certainly didn’t understand.

That very night, your grandfather, the king, died.

You were asleep when it happened, blissfully unaware, only to awaken to a silence so profound it was deafening. No one came to inform you, and when you tried to leave your chambers, you found the doors barred, locking you inside.

It became clear that only one person had remembered your existence when food and water were delivered to you. Desperate for answers, you questioned the servant, only to learn that your grandfather had passed, Aegon had been crowned king in your mother’s stead, and your betrothed, Prince Lucerys, was dead. How, or why, no one would tell you.

Devastated, the full weight of your captivity settled upon you. You long to stop dreaming. You implore the gods that you could cease to dream. You are so exhausted; all you yearn for is sleep. You want to sleep all day, from dawn until twilight, which every evening arrives a little earlier and with a touch more gloom. During the day, all you do is think about sleeping, about him. But at night, all you do is try to stay awake.

All day you keep your face smiling like a mask, smiling, smiling, your teeth bared, your eyes bright, your skin like stretched parchment, paper-thin. You keep your voice clear and soft, you speak words without meaning, and sometimes, when necessary, you even sing. At night you fall into your bed as if you were plunging into deep waters, as if you were sinking into the depths, as if the water were possessing you, taking you like a mermaid, and for a moment you feel a deep relief, as if, submerged in water, your sorrow could drain away, as if it were the Gods eye river and the currents could bring forgetfulness and carry you into the cave of sleep; but then, the dreams come.

You don’t dream of his dead–it would be the worst of nightmares to see your brother bleeding to death, to see him with the pale face typical of a lifeless body and soulless eyes.

You don’t dream any of this, and you thank the Gods for that mercy at least.

But you understood, that if anything he would have wished, it was that you would not live with grief and regret.

You were born a princess and you are the heir to a long line of courageous women.

Even so, you wept until sleep claimed you, and the days began to blur together, each more colorless than the last. You lost the will to eat, to care, for it seemed that no one cared for you. Only a servant came each day to help you wash, but even she never spoke.

Thoughts of escape flitted through your mind—knocking out the servant, or even throwing yourself from the window, the height be damned. But everything changed one night when they dragged you from your bed, giving you no time to comprehend what was happening.

They hauled you through the corridors with such brutality that your arms bore the bruises of their grip.

“What is happening?” you demanded, your voice quivering with fear. “Where are you taking me?”

The soldiers’ hold tightened painfully, making you wince. “The king wishes to see you, so keep your mouth shut.”

As you were led closer to the chambers that had once belonged to your grandfather, you sensed something was horribly wrong. Soldiers were dragging servants away, forcing them toward what seemed to be the dungeons, while you were marched in the opposite direction.

“I’ve done nothing,” you murmured, dread curling in your stomach. “I am a princess; you have no right to treat me like this!”

But your protests fell on deaf ears.

When you reached the king’s door, a cacophony of crashes and furious shouts echoed from within, as though the very foundations of the room were being torn apart.

“I’ll kill them!” a voice roared. “I’ll kill them all! Traitors and villains! How dare they attack me!”

The doors were flung open, and you were shoved to the floor at the feet of a figure who loomed above you.

“Your Majesty…”

“I am the King!”

You raised your head slightly to see Aegon, wild-eyed, smashing something in his hands—a relic of ancient Valyria that had once belonged to Viserys.

“I am the King!” he repeated, and it took several men to calm him, though his rage only simmered as he turned his gaze upon you.

“We’ve brought the traitor, as you commanded.”

A chill swept through you as your eyes met Aegon’s. The fury and madness in his stare made him unrecognizable, a stranger where once there had been a boy you had known all your life.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and hauled you to your feet, his grip so tight it was as though he wanted to crush you with it. His eyes were wild, almost deranged.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” His voice was more of an accusation than a question.

You instinctively placed a hand on his chest as he backed you against the shattered remains of the sculpture he had destroyed.

“You sought revenge in the name of your bastard betrothed.”

You shook your head as his hand closed around your throat, squeezing until you could barely breathe.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you choked out, struggling to draw air into your lungs.

"Aegon...!" you gasped, but he didn't release you. Your eyes locked with his, desperately trying to convey the truth. You had done nothing, you didn’t even know why he was blaming you. Of all people, he should know that you would be the last to harm them.

But his grip tightened, and as your vision began to blur, you started hitting his arm in a frantic attempt to break free.

With no one stepping in to stop him, you acted out of sheer instinct. You grabbed the nearest object and struck Aegon across the face with all the strength you could muster.

He released you immediately, and you collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath and clutching your chest. Only then did the others move, but not against Aegon—against you.

They seized you by the hair, dragging you to your feet, holding you so tightly that escape was impossible.

You were certain you would die there, but you resolved that you would not go down without a fight.

Aegon waved the others away, and without hesitation, he struck again. The blow was so fierce that it knocked the strength from your legs, leaving your ears ringing and your vision blurred. Warm blood trickled down your lips as you struggled to stay conscious.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you braced yourself for the next strike, but it never came.

Slowly, your hearing returned, and with it, your sight. You could make out distant voices—two at first, then more. You were dropped to the cold floor for a third time.

Raising your head, you saw a blurry figure holding Aegon by the throat. The darkness, combined with the dizziness in your head, made it difficult to identify who it was.

You wanted to take advantage of the distraction, to flee, but you had no idea where to go or what to do. You tried to stand, but the ringing in your head grew louder, preventing you from taking more than a single step.

“She is a traitor, and you dare defend her?” you heard Aegon’s voice, but you no longer cared.

You made a second attempt to stand, but this time you did not feel the ground beneath you. Instead, you felt arms encircling your waist with a surprising gentleness, a touch so unexpected that even he seemed taken aback.

When you looked up, you found yourself gazing into the face of the last person you ever expected.

“Aemond?” you asked, needing confirmation.

In the dim light of the night, through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you clung to the one solid thing you had found.

“Don’t try to move anymore,” he said softly, “you’ll only hurt yourself more.”

He guided your arms around his neck and, with no effort at all, lifted you into his arms. You might have resisted, demanded that he put you down, that you retain some shred of dignity after all you had endured, but you were utterly exhausted. Your head wouldn’t stop spinning, and your spirit was shattered. For now, Aemond seemed to be the only one who showed even a flicker of care for you.

••••

You were the only good thing he remembered from his childhood. The only thing that made him smile, the only thing that made him feel human.

Like him, your dragon egg never hatched, but unlike him, you didn’t mind. And it was this indifference that made him begin to notice you. He admired the kindness, fairness, and awareness you displayed effortlessly.

When Aegon mocked him, you defended him; when your brothers teased him, you scolded them. And when the incident at Driftmark occurred, although you weren’t present, you were the only one who wept upon seeing what had happened to him.

You were also the only one who went to see him afterward, when everyone else walked away without consequence. You gave him something no one else did: a hug.

“You’re still handsome,” you said, gently brushing the spot where the stitches had been.

He couldn’t help but blush at your words. Although he pretended not to care, that wound had affected him deeply, just as so many other things had during his childhood.

“It was a fair trade. I lost an eye, but I gained a dragon,” he repeated, echoing the same words he had said to his mother.

You looked at him with sadness because, even though you couldn’t fully understand what he felt, it seemed to you that he repeated those words to convince himself that he shouldn’t feel pity for what he had lost.

“You’re allowed to be sad, you know?” you said, taking his hand and offering a faint smile. “I don’t really know what happened down there, or why my brothers reacted the way they did, or what you did, but... it’s not as simple as you make it out to be, and that’s okay. You’re human, Aemond.”

He remained silent for a few moments, and for the first time, he thought that if he were to cry in that moment, he wouldn’t feel judged but rather comforted by the love and patience you had always shown him. But he didn’t. Despite the trust he had in you, he didn’t want to seem weak in your eyes.

That was the last time you saw him.

But it wasn’t the last time you had contact with him. You always wrote to him and to Helaena, telling them about your daily life, about what made you happy, like the birth of your younger brothers, Aegon and Viserys, and the joy you felt holding their tiny bodies.

For a while, everything was fine. However, little by little, your letters became less frequent until one day they stopped altogether, which made him nervous. It was a feeling he didn’t understand, and it worsened when he found out that you continued to write to Helaena but not to him.

His confusion turned into fury, especially when, at the beginning of your silence, he sent you letters—initially short, barely a paragraph. But when he received no reply, he started sending longer ones, telling you about his day, trying to regain the attention you had once given him without directly asking why you had gone silent. One letter, two, three… ten. But there was no response.

So he stopped trying.

Then, you returned to King’s Landing to defend your brother’s legitimacy after six long years.

You saw him training and noticed how much he had changed. You felt the fear the servants displayed when he was near, how hard and enigmatic he had become. The boy you knew had disappeared, transformed into a man you no longer recognized.

He caught your gaze from below, and for the first time in his life, you looked away. You had never done that before; you always greeted him with a tender smile and warm eyes.

“Why? Why? Why?” he wondered furiously in his mind, as if you could answer him from a distance.

You were walking towards the throne room to witness Vaemond Velaryon’s petition when someone intercepted you, grabbing your hand and making you turn with a gasp.

You parted your lips slightly upon meeting Aemond’s cold gaze. He was much taller than you now, his face had gained firmer features, and the strength he had acquired was evident, perhaps thanks to his training. Even his skin had taken on a more bronzed tone from all those days outdoors. The patch covering his missing eye made him look even more imposing.

“Do I look like a criminal to you, or why are you running from me?” he asked bluntly, without so much as a greeting or an apology for interrupting you and grabbing you.

“We’re going to be late,” was all you said, trying to free yourself from his grip.

However, he didn’t let go, as if his hand on your wrist was a chain binding you to him.

You looked at him again, silently pleading with him not to persist. He remained silent, watching you with a depth that, for the first time, you couldn’t interpret.

Then he let out a short laugh and released you, causing you to cover your wrist with your other hand.

Your heart ached because, although you had sworn to keep your distance from him, you knew you were being unfair.

You turned your back on him, ready to leave, but you bit your lower lip, feeling the truth gnawing at you inside.

“Did you do it?” you asked in a whisper, turning back to face him.

He looked at you, not understanding.

“Do what?” You nervously fidgeted with your hands, a gesture he hated. He could find satisfaction in everyone else’s fear of him, but in you, and only in you, he despised it.

“Did you try to kill them?” you finally asked. “Did you try to kill my brothers? Is that why Luke attacked you with a knife?”

He clenched his hands into fists, connecting the dots. Was that why you had stopped writing to him? Why you were ignoring him?

You couldn’t bear to see how his face filled with a rage you had never seen in him before, a rage that sent shivers down your spine. You lowered your gaze, waiting for an answer.

However, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him.

He expected this from everyone, but not from you.

The only woman he had placed on a pedestal, the only one who had taught him that love could be given willingly, not out of obligation.

“Is that what they told you?” he murmured, struggling with an internal conflict that seemed to hurt him, even make him feel betrayed. “And you believed them?”

You closed your eyes, and seeing him like this made you begin to doubt your convictions.

However, Jace, Luke, even Baela and Rhaena, had sworn it to you on their lives. You knew that, of all people, Jace and Luke would never lie to you. So yes, your judgment was clouded by the oaths of the people you loved most.

“Then tell me, tell me what happened that day, tell me you didn’t break Luke’s nose and try to hit Jace with a rock.”

Silence seemed to flood everything like an overwhelming tide.

“They attacked me,” he asserted in a solemn tone, one that left no room for doubt or questioning. “All four of them came to attack me.”

He didn’t deny it, and that was the first thing you noticed.

“And why? Why would four children come to attack you?” You didn’t accuse him of anything, you simply asked, though you already knew the answer; you wanted to hear it from his lips.

“That doesn’t justify what they did to me,” he said, with an expression that broke your heart. Though you already knew, you had hoped your brothers were mistaken.

“No, it doesn’t justify it,” you responded. “But neither does it justify what you said to them, nor how you insulted them, because the moment that word left your lips, you insulted me too. The moment you struck them, you struck me as well. And when they hurt you, they hurt me too.”

You had to swallow hard to keep your eyes from filling with tears.

“I will never forgive what they did to you, and my heart breaks to see that the boy I once loved… suffered and changed so much, to the point where I no longer recognize him.” Your voice trembled as his eyes pierced through you, reaching the deepest part of your soul. “But I can’t forgive you for what you did to them either.”

You sighed and took his hand.

“And they are my brothers… I had to choose.”

A tear slid down your cheek, one that carried so many emotions, so much meaning.

You let go of him, ready to leave him behind and head for your mother’s arms. You just wanted to reach her.

However, you felt a pull, gentler this time, less abrupt. One that forced you to face him again.

Then, something you thought impossible happened: in his eyes, you once again saw the boy you remembered, that boy with a sad but determined gaze, who tried to be strong, though he had a brave and simple heart. That boy who made your heart race, who made you want to see him day and night, the one who, despite the differences in your lives, always seemed to understand you.

And then, in an unexpected and overwhelming moment, his lips sought yours. There was no hesitation, no moment of doubt. It took you by surprise, but instead of pulling away, you found yourself responding with the same intensity. The air between you seemed to evaporate as the heat of his body enveloped yours.

His kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a blend of unleashed passion and tenderness you hadn’t anticipated. Your hands, which at first had frozen in the air, moved of their own accord—one tangled in his hair, the other gripped his back, feeling the taut

His kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a blend of overwhelming passion and an unexpected tenderness. Your hands, which had initially frozen in mid-air, moved of their own accord—one tangling in his hair, the other clutching at his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath the fabric of his clothing.

Aemond kissed you with a fervor you had never known, as if each kiss was a confession, a longing, a broken promise he tried to mend with every brush of his lips. The need that enveloped you was so overwhelming that you almost lost sense of everything except him. His lips were soft yet firm, his breath warm as it mingled with yours, evoking in you a visceral reaction you had never expected.

Your lips moved in sync with his, responding with a passion that surprised you, a passion that seemed to come from the deepest part of your being. It was a kiss that spoke not just of desire but of all the unexpressed emotions, all the words that had never been spoken.

Then, almost painfully, you became aware of where you were, of the danger of being discovered. With a tremendous effort, you gently pushed him away, breaking the kiss with a gasp, the echo of his touch still vibrating on your lips.

You brought your hand to your lips, still feeling the ghost of his touch, unable to believe what had just happened. He looked at you, breathing heavily, his eyes darkened by a mix of emotions that pierced through you like lightning. For a moment, your heart hesitated, tempted to fall once more into the abyss that had opened between you.

But then, you heard voices approaching, reminding you of where you were and the situation you were in. Aemond seemed to realize it too, and his gaze filled with a mix of frustration and something deeper that you didn’t dare to name. In that instant, he had the impulse to demand, to claim you.

Even so, you knew you had to pull away, that you couldn’t allow yourself to fall deeper into temptation.

Without a word, you turned your back on him, ready to leave, though the truth burned in your chest. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t let this happen again, that you would turn your feelings for him into a cold, forgotten stone.

And it was all for one reason.

In the audience, when asked about the legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra's children, King Viserys announced his consent for the marriage between Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra and Laenor’s eldest son, heir to the throne after his mother, and Baela Targaryen, Daemon and Laena’s eldest daughter. Likewise, following tradition, Lucerys Velaryon, the second son and Corlys’s heir, would marry you.

Aemond’s reaction was immediate and palpable; the fury burning in his eyes was visible in every fiber of his being. It was a fury born not just of frustration, but of disdain and the contempt he felt.

The sky darkened as if aware of the contempt, fury, and slight that the queen’s third son felt. A feeling that clouded his judgment the next day and led him to commit the gravest of sins, unleashing the consequences that would follow.

Masterlist

[rotten-pomegranate]

Illumi’s s/o gets an abortion while she was on the run. After being locked up for long, when she found her chance to escape, she took it. She was forced into this by Illumi, she doesn’t want to be a mother. What she didn’t know was his family prized those in having coloring like Silva & Killua. Illumi finds out by chance, that the abortion took that away from him, and his family.

Yes.

Warnings: dark content, past rape, future rape, abuse, mentions of child abuse, abortion, forced pregnancy

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

He’s pissed when you run away, how dare you? You think you can get away from him after all he’s don’t for you, making sure you fed, clothed, bathed and dry at all times?

He is even more mad you ran away with his soon to be heir, it doesn’t matter to him he had to force himself on you to conceive it, it just matters he’s gonna have one

So when he finds you no longer pregnant and with no baby in sight, he just about beats the life out of you for what you’ve done

He drags you back to the mountain his family’s manor is on talking about how he hopes it was worth it because you’ll never see the light of day again and how he can just fuck another baby into you the whole way there

He brings you all the way to the basement and throws you in one of the rooms they use for prisoners and traitors which you now are

Your gonna get beat and starved for a few days before he jumps on the task of getting you pregnant again

©rotten-pomegranate- All rights reserved, don’t steal, translate, copy, plagiarize, claim my work as your own or post it on other platforms.

[tiramisuwithmascarpone]

Hello! I'm a 15-year-old devotee of both Lord Hermes and Lady Aphrodite who is raised in an extremely Orthodox Christian household, and I would like to share my story with you ⋆��ʚɞ

Hi! for safety reasons I will not use the name I usually use online for this account, but you can call me Jellyfish. I live in Eastern Europe, more exactly Romania, a country whose population is 98% devoted to Christianity at the time of speaking. My mother is a perfect example. She wholeheartedly believes in God, I grew up with pictures of him and the Holy Mary all over the walls, which I wouldn't escape even at my grandparent's houses. My house always smelled of myrrh, I would carry a picture of God everywhere I went, I would pray to him before bed, go to church on every holiday, but I never felt fulfilled or connected to him in any way. I didn't truly know what I believed in. My mother was telling me all about how should I praise God, but I don't think I ever did it because I wanted to or felt connected to what she was telling me or felt like it was the life I wanted to live. When she would fight with my father, even now, she would threaten that she would run away to a monastery and become a nun. She thinks you cannot change your religion and you can not be Christian if you were born with Christian parents and raised in that environment. I did not have faith in God because I wanted to and felt connected to his message and wanted to worship his divine being, I did it because my mother felt that way. And that destroyed me.

As I grew older, I started believing less and less in God. I was struggling with going through teenagehood, fighting my own inner battles, and dealing with friendship that slowly felt like they were taking away my lifespan, and it wasn't just that I didn't have faith in a divine being (which is completely alright. Please do not believe this monologue is Anti-Christian, I believe everyone is allowed to believe and worship the one who they feel most connected and inclined towards.) I didn't have faith in anything anymore. When my brother reached 15, he hated my parents for their beliefs. I will not get much I detail since his story is not mine to tell, but he had battled with alcohol and substance abuse. And I was his only shoulder for him and my parents to lean and cry on. My mother told me to pray for our family, she would pray to god every day, light up myrrh, take me to churches, and I would feel miserable. I felt like an imposter in that church. I truly wanted to have faith in a god, anyone, but I felt like my only choice was God since that's what my mother taught me. Both my parents trust God so I cannot be different, can I?

How foolish I was. I can only look back to my past self and wish to embrace and hold her till she cries all her sorrow out. She was so confused.

Back in 2022, I had first heard of Aphrodite. My brother was sent to a mental hospital for his substance abuse when they caught him on the verge of overdosing. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder after a suicide attempt, autism and ADHD, but my father (who already couldn't accept the fact that my brother has ADHD) fought with them saying they ,,don't know me well enough" and,,there's nothing wrong with me". And he's right, there's nothing wrong with me. Not even If I am neurodivergent. I was at my lowest, I felt disgusting, I fought with my parents and was their therapist every single day, I stopped going to school, I was a mess. But, I was heavily active on social media because I had tons of online friends. While scrolling on tiktok, I found a video of an Aphrodite devotee. My interest was piqued. I heard about Greek Mythology before but never actually researched it. I liked the video and commented, talking about how gorgeous their faith sounds, and that's when it all started. I started getting more info about Aphrodite, the swans swum by me every time I would go to the lake with my family so we could ,,get some fresh air". I started getting lots of pins on Pinterest with her. I always had a desire for water and the beach was my safe place, where I felt fulfilled and free from all I'm feeling. I had a Dove make itself a nest on a tree next to the window of my classroom which I would always sit by while having lunch (on the rare occasions I would drop by to school). I started researching more about Lady Aphrodite, loving her story, beliefs, ways of worshipping, how it felt like silence was washing over me when I would make a non-physical offering to her. Her tales. The way it felt like she was always there to give me a warm hug and squeeze me while I was crying. I also felt a boost in my confidence! I started loving my features, taking care of myself again, etc. It wasn't always just sun and rainbows, I would still have breakdowns and wish it would all just end and all that, but it was more bearable with her. She made my life more bearable. I love, worship, and adore Lady Aphrodite for that. I worshipped her till this year when I officially felt strong enough to devote myself to her.

This year, actually, I started noticing my strong connection to Hermes. I was always attracted to the kind-hearted, mischievous, kind-hearted, highly intelligent and funny thieves. I always idolized them and wished to be like them. That's how I feel about Lord Hermes. I feel like he was reaching out to me all my life. Everything he is associated with I had an inexplicable obsession with for pretty much all my life. Turtles, golden or silver, travel, learning new languages, astronomy, astrology, everything you could think of. I have been devoted to him since last month, that's when I officially started labeling myself as a Hellenic Pagan, but I am still a beginner, and I need to hide all of this from my mother since I am afraid of what she would do if she were to find out I have another belief since she reacted super badly back when I was an atheist :( I set up the first altar for Lady Aphrodite, and the second one for Lord Hermes. I always had been an artistic soul and loved making my room all pretty randomly so I told my mother this is one of those cases and she believed it. She does not know english and is not at all cultured about any beliefs besides Christians, Muslims, and Jews. They are both hidden in my closet. I feel very bad for not being able to make them a bigger and more obvious altar, I hope I'll have that chance when I move out from my parent's house..

I wanted to ask if Lord Hermes would be mad if my mom kept setting random things on his altar? she even put a picture of the Holy Mary. I moved it to the other side of the closet and made a DIY necklace for him out of orange garnet or beads to apologize to him, and he didn't seem mad, but I'm not sure...I sketched drawings of both of them and rested them on their altars. Everything you see are either offerings I heard they may like or things that reminded me of them! the little notebook on Hermes's altar is specifically made for learning new languages and thought he would enjoy it. Do you guys think any of my offerings are disrespectful? or should be removed? I'm open to any advice! Thank you for listening to my story <3

[mapoeggplant]

no home and the acceptance of grief and loneliness

one of the things i liked most about the writing and development of the story of no home is how different arcs (or chapters) deal with different types of loss and how the character were able to get in touch with this lonely feeling and accept it in order to finally move on. in this analysis, i would like to comment on three characters: marie, haejoon and eunyung.

(spoilers ahead)

Marie 

in marie's case, the feeling of loss has been there since she was young, when her mother left. in order to try to control the feeling of grief over the sudden loss of a motherly figure, marie begins to try to "take" her place, doing everything she can to take care of the house, her father and her brother, often putting her own desires aside in order to accommodate them.

the lack of her mother and the fear of abandonment make her dedicate herself more and more to being a support for her family and tries at all costs to prove that she is well and happy, afraid of being abandoned again. setting the table to wait for them while her sits alone represents, to me, this waiting that she constantly puts herself in to please everyone around her. marie even puts up with all the physical aggression from her brother and her father's neglect, with a gigantic fear of being the reason for her family to fall apart, following in her mother's footsteps in one way or another.

marie lies to herself that life at home is not that bad and often softens her brother's aggression, but she still does everything she can to have her own freedom. moving to the dormitory is the first big step for her to finally be able to break free from this loneliness and seek comfort in her own interests and well-being. but even so, she is afraid to put into words the reason why she wants to move, only being able to admit it much later in a conversation with her aunt.

marie's loneliness is still seen throughout some chapters, especially when she tries, in a somewhat aggressive way, to save minju from falling into the same situation she found herself in, since she knows what it's like to feel alone and carry such a huge burden at home. however, the more we see her open up to the characters and get more and more involved with the journalism club, we can find in between the lines a new comfort that she feels when she returns home, having finally come to terms with herself and her own person, thus understanding her belonging within the home and in the group of friends.

Eunyung

eunyung is an enigmatic character full of secrets from the beginning, but i really enjoy seeing how his loneliness unfolds throughout the story and how we follow his change side by side with the revelation of his past.

i think it's obvious when i say that eunyung's mourning comes from his family issues, especially his relationship with his father and all the abuse he suffered at his hands. all the times he ran away from home, all the times he tried to find comfort in unreliable friendships or even his way of seeking his own strength in fights with other people reflect his desire to be seen and understood, especially since he can't find this comfort and reassurance at home. in his constant escapes, eunyung is not only looking for an ideal place to hide from his parents, but also for family comfort, for someone to acknowledge how hard he's trying, for a bond to be created with people who will be able to overcome all the loneliness and mourning he feels for the loss of family affection.

the way in which the father is always presented as a shadow reflects a lot on the emptiness he feels every time he returns home or revisits his memories of the past. the father no longer has a human appearance and becomes represented by the fear that eunyung feels and the emptiness he brings into his life. he is not a person, but rather a feeling, a lack, a mourning.

when he finally manages to see his father as a person and understands that he is much smaller and weaker than he remembered, eunyung begins to understand that much of his pain comes exactly from this erasure that he himself had in his parents' lives and they in his. he begins to see his father as someone of flesh and blood only when he, at the same time, begins to find comfort in the dormitory or in the new friendships he has been making throughout the story.

no longer seeing this black mass of fear is not just because eunyung finally got tired of not fighting back or a representation of him finding his own voice, but also thanks to the fact that he finally begins to understand that he does have a place in the world and deserves to start dreaming of a better future. he is no longer alone and understands that he no longer needs the family support that he so desperately needed: now, the blood ties are those that he will build and pursue himself, made up of people who he knows care about him and who he feels reciprocal affection for.

of course, this change is not obvious from the beginning and there is a long way to go between finally seeing his father and finding his freedom. eunyung's trauma is much more deep-rooted than he believes it to be, but finding his home has brought him enough comfort and foundation to accept this grief and understand that, in order to move forward, he does not need this constant memory that is only there to hurt and deceive him. detaching yourself from your parents is not about accepting your loneliness, but rather embracing it and finding a way to live with it until it dissolves into the past.

Haejoon:

i think that when it comes to haejoon, his grief becomes even clearer and more obvious, since his entire arc, from beginning to end, is about him learning to live with the absence of his mother and the grief that never goes away.

it is very difficult to define what grief is exactly and whether or not we are able to “overcome” it. grief is a complex feeling with many layers and different types of understanding, so it is very wrong for anyone to want to define someone else’s pain with their own believes. for me, grief is a feeling that never goes away, you just learn to live with it and come to peace with yourself at a certain point. that said, i believe that this is literally haejoon’s final arc, especially when he “meets” his mother again.

haejoon finds himself alone in the world and has to, for the first time, learn how to live with this loneliness. and this lesson doesn't come only with everyday life and the memories that come and go, but also with your self-discovery, opening up to new friendships and gradually connecting with your family and their secrets. learning to live with grief isn't just about acceptance, but also about knowing how to move forward and find people who help you discover happiness in this new life and this new phase.

the final scene of haejoon saying goodbye to his mother shows the evolution he has undergone. his mother, who was always such a gentle and loving person before, begins to become more aggressive and assertive, trying to trap him with her. i don't believe that this is a new vision that haejoon has of his mother, but rather a way that his inner self has found to make him finally come into direct contact with this loneliness and grief and face them. accepting this new life and this new found happiness is something very difficult for anyone who goes through grief. accepting that you can be happy again even without the person you love in your life is almost like saying goodbye and abandoning all the good memories you had with them. and haejoon is incredibly afraid of forgetting his mother, of losing her, of never being able to see her again. therefore, creating a more persuasive mother in his subconscious forces him to understand that he can enjoy and celebrate this new phase of his life without ever losing the connection with his mother. little by little, he recovers the good times he had with his friends and his new life, and being trapped inside a bubble of sadness no longer makes sense to him. his mother is no longer just a painful memory, but rather the strength that allows him to move forward.

it is very beautiful to see the moment when haejoon says goodbye to his mother and returns to his normal routine, ready to start college. we get to see a much more mature and self-confident boy, who has not only finally accepted all his flaws and qualities, but has also managed to understand that grief and longing are things that never go away, you just find a way to live better with both. honoring his mother means continuing to live as long as he can and being happy in the way he wants. honoring the memories of the mother he loved so much means remembering all her kindness and continuing to share with the people he loves all the affection his mother once shared with him.

thank you for reading 💛

[skxllz]

warnings; mentions of cancer risk, implications of abuse, implied homophobia

the rattling of steel clanged around, signifying that someone was climbing the rusted ladder of the fire escape. you were burning a cigarette on the side, hanging over the railing and looking down at the passing people that laughed, talked, and just so happened to be drunk.

it was eleven forty on a saturday night after all.

“ hey, y/n! ” mickey's voice caught your attention, causing you to look up and for him to grin — until he saw the wisps of smoke. he followed it, up until his eyes landed on your cigarette.

“ the fuck? ”

a frown instantly pulled at his lips. that's when ian climbed up behind ‘im on the ladder and pulled himself up, only to dust his hands onto his jeans. “ what is it? ” ian questioned, looking at mickey with raised brows — then, his head slowly turned to you.

they both had frowns on their faces after that.

you flicked your cigarette over the railing and to the ground below, ridding it from their sight, and yours, completely. “ I don't see what the big deal is with me smoking. ”

“ you promised you wouldn't anymore. ” ian shot back, face hard with emotion. “ y/n, lung cancer runs in your family and last time you were at the doctors- ”

“ I know. ” you scoffed, looking away. “ I know, they found cells and I was at high risk. i just... ” your eyes were darting back and forth as you thought, debating if you should tell your boyfriends about the trouble that's been going on in your life. it was difficult to decide.

“ you just? ” mickey mocked, waving his hands about, “ you just what? spit it the fuck out. ” he was irritated because someone he loved went behind his back and did something he shouldn't have. of course he'd let his anger get the best of ‘im.

you sigh, “ I've been stressed, alright? and angry.. ” tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let anything fall; holding them back with immense strength. “ m’ mum, she's... not supportive of my sexuality. that's why I never introduced her to you guys. ”

ian's brows knitted together at this new found out information. of course, him and mickey knew you had secrets —they had only known you around eight months—, but they never thought it'd be something like that. something they could relate to, of all things.

of course it was serious, but why wouldn't you go to them about it?

mickey glanced at ian, before approaching you slowly with a softening expression. he himself knew what it was like to have a parent that wasn't accepting. “ y/n... ” you flinched as he put a hand on your forearm, and that made him reel his arm back.

he was nearly offended — but then he glanced down, eyeing the arm that was covered by the thin sleeve of a hoodie. your mother couldn't have... could she?

even if he wanted to ask, he didn't, because he knew he'd kill the bitch. right now, you needed comforted — and as selfish as mickey could be, now wasn't the time.

“ baby, ” mickey's voice came out quieter, “ why didn't you come to us — to me? you know we wouldn't judge you.. ” he huffed a laugh of irony. “ hell, terry hates my fucking guts cause ‘m gay, man. ”

you wouldn't meet his gaze, but you nodded in acknowledgement to his words, letting out a shaky breath. “ I.. I know. I just didn't want to bother you guys with my problems. ”

“ bother us? ” this time ian scoffed, approaching the both of you until he was standing directly next to mickey. “ if you bothered us, we would've told you to beat it awhile ago y/n. ”

“ yeah, ” mickey eyed you, blue eyes taking in the sight of your own shifty ones. of course you were nervous. “ but you're not botherin’ us. so stop beatin’ around the bush about shit from now on, alright? ”

you were silent for a moment, thinking over mickey and ian's words — taking in the fact that yeah, they were telling the truth. these two don't keep people around, especially mickey, if they didn't like them. so in a way, you guess you were lucky.

that's when you lifted your head to smile slightly at the two, “ y’know I love you guys, right? ”

mickey smirked. “ enough to suck my d- ”

ian smacked him in the back of the head. mickey scowled in reply, rubbing at his head, but said nothing.

the red head turned to look at you with a sweet smile, “ what he meant to say, was he enough to stop smoking, right? ”

you were grinning widely, cheeks rosey from mickey's earlier comment. god you loved them. “ yeah... yeah, enough to stop smoking. ”

[dollgxtz]

I’m not the same anon that asked about reader having PPD. But I read your reply to their question, and I want to ask: what if reader DOES end up snapping and hurting the baby (or perhaps even killing it)? would he hate her? How would he react? I’ve studied this matter a bit and I’ve found out that mothers getting aggressive with children that tie them down to abusive or unhealthy relationships is in fact much more common than we think. Alot of mothers abandon their child when they escape these relationships too. It’s all because they can’t help but think of those traumatic events every time they see their child. So, yeah. What would happen if she does end up hurting the child severely, or even killing them? (either in a state of psychosis or when she snaps, or intentionally)

TW: CHILD DEATH

(Heed the warning!!! Don’t click read more if this triggers you!)

I think Yan!Sylus would be heartbroken, angry, and desperate to rationalize why Reader would do such a thing to their precious baby. But make no mistake, he would never actually let it get to the point where she would manage to kill the baby. He would notice the signs and act accordingly, as he’s a very observant man.

In the event that she did kill baby though, hypothetically, you can imagine this would be one of those times he’d fully release his anger onto Reader. Not physically harming her to the point of killing, but he would be so heartbroken that he wouldn’t be able to keep his cool for once.

After his anger was gone he’d likely rationalize in his head what happened. Probably end up blaming himself, and then just…start the process over (impregnating her again), this time vowing to be more attentive and just separate baby. He still wants a family, and if that means baby can’t be with mom for awhile then so be it. (As fucked as that sounds, it’s very in character for the Yan!Sylus I’m portraying.)

Also, in his mind, he can’t ever let her go now as she’s a danger not only to herself but to others clearly. So he’d take it upon himself to take the burden of caring for Reader, forever. Because despite what she’s done, he can’t stop loving her. His own messed up psyche won’t let him stop caring about her even he wanted to.

Pretty sad and tragic. The only reason I’m even typing this out is because that is definitely not an ending that I would ever make, the murder of children is like a huge no no for me in my own personal writing. Miscarriages, stillborns are fine but murder of children? Breaks my heart too much 💔

[thefaithfulnightwriter]

Dracontine - Chapter One

[^ the gif above i found on Pinterest so rights go to rightful owner ^]

❝ She is very rare. She is what you call a Dracontine. Meaning she belongs to a dragon. But in her case, she does not belong to one but three. ❞

Summary - In which a young female hides who she truly is from everyone and stays to herself. Keeping to her chores as a servant. Staying hidden was her main task while taking care of her three dragon eggs that were bound to her. But many things change when she has to stay Under the Mountain with many others. What she didn't expect was that she would meet her mate. Who happened to be the powerful High Lord of Night Court. Then soon later on she would find she has another powerful mate. The Spymaster of Night Court who was a Shadowsinger. She soon finds herself having to break out of her shell with the help of her mates and their family. Along with finding out how to navigate two bonds with two powerful mates. Also, while taking the title as Dracontine. Being she is the one who belongs to not one but three dragons. All while trying to survive a war.

Pairing - Rhysand x Female!Oc/Mc/Reader x Azriel

Universe - pre acotar - acowar [it may go into an au after acowar not sure yet though]

Series Warnings - DRAGONS (yes that is a warning lol), Gore, Death, Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Mention of Past Abuse, War, Things Will Be Changed, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Poly. Relationship MxFxM (Side Note - Rhysand & Azriel are in a relationship or are mates to my Mc they will not be together), More Will Be Added If Needed. (Please do not read if these are triggers)

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR - ACOWAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. And i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

A smile was upon the lips of the little female fae right now. She had long dark brown curly hair that fell to her waist. Dark brown eyes so dark they looked to be an onyx color. Light brown smooth skin and dark freckles that littered it. She was a beautiful child. She was only a young fae though only being in her mid teens.

Right now, though she was asleep and dreaming. She loved being in her dreams. It was always peaceful for her. Her life outside her dreams however was not. She had a rough life. Even though she was young she still understood what was going on around her. She was born to be a servant in the Autumn Court. Her mother was already teaching her the things she was supposed to do as a servant.

But she wasn't thinking about her life at the moment. No right now she was enjoying her peaceful dream.

As a soft giggle escaped her lips as she skipped beside an older male in her dream. She was holding his large hand with her small one. Swinging their hands back and forth. As she hummed and looked around her. It was a beautiful vast meadow. But she soon smiled widely when she saw the familiar red dragon not that far away laying down in the grass. She was soon letting go of the male's hand and running towards the dragon.

Once she was close she skipped faster to the dragon. Once she was in reach she went and ran her hands against the red dragon's scaled neck. Which led the dragon to growl softly with affection. As she allowed the child to pet her. Anna was enthralled with the dragon. That she didn't hear the chuckle from the male nor see him smile at her fondly. She was so happy and content as she ran her hands against the dragon's neck. That is until a thought came to her mind. She was then turning to the male behind her with a curious look upon her face.

"Grandfather Cade when can I tell everyone about you being in my dreams, and about Crimson being here too?" She asked with a sigh. She desperately wanted to tell her mother and most definitely her grandmother about the dreams she has. She wanted to tell everyone about her great grandfather Cade and his dragon Crimson. She wanted to tell them what they look like, what it was like to fly in the sky upon Crimson's back, and about her being the next Dracontine.

"Well little one I want you to tell them when there is proof," Cade told his great grandchild. Cade didn't want her to tell anyone just yet about him and Crimson. These dreams he cherished and kept them close to his heart. Though he was dead, coming into his great grand daughter's dreams was something that the Mother allowed. Which he was grateful for. He was so happy to have a connection to his family, and even more overjoyed that the next Dracontine was going to be his great granddaughter who was in front of him. She was so kind, so caring, and warmhearted. She kept such innocence and affection. Even while she was going through many things at such a young age. Living the life of a servant.

"What do you mean?" She questions him with a tilt of her head. As she leant her back against Crimson sliding down to sit on the ground. Looking up at Cade with curiosity and wonder. She wanted to tell someone so bad about her dreams, mainly her family. But her grandfather wanted her to wait.

"When you find your dragon eggs. Then and only then will be the time. When you are allowed and will be able to tell the family about these dreams. About me and Crimson. But only tell our family Annamarie. Like I said before they will know what to do. You remember what I told you before?" Cade explained to Anna. As he sat down beside her. Which led Anna to crawl over and sit sideways in his lap. Leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Yes grandfather I remember. One day the Mother will guide me to my three dragon eggs. And once I find my eggs and touch them I will change. Which I have to keep hidden. Then I must tell the family and only them. Then I must hide my eggs and make sure no one finds them. But I need to keep them near me and warm with my new abilities. It will take them years to hatch. And um oh yeah. Then when the time comes I need to go Under the Mountain as a servant. Wherever that is. Then everything will fall in place for me," Anna recited the words that her grandfather had told her many times before. As she looked up at him with wide eyes wondering if what she said was right. This caused Cade to nod with a smile.

"Yes. Very good. I must warn you... it will be happening sometime in a few more years little one. You will be finding your dragon eggs in time. You just have to be patient," Cade warned her. As he sent her a smile. Trying to hide his worry for his granddaughter and her future. Anna smiled as she clapped her hands and jumped and threw her arms over his shoulders and hugged Cade with excitement.

She was ecstatic that she was going to find her dragon eggs sometime in only a few more years. After hearing such news the two calmed and they stayed there for a moment letting a peaceful silence wash over them. Nothing was heard but the loud breathing of Crimson and the wind. Anna was enjoying her time with her grandfather Cade. That is until she thought of something.

"Grandfather will I always be able to see you in my dreams even when I'm older?" Anna asked him, as she looked into his light eyes. This caused Cade to sigh and look at her then up at the sky. Anna was quick to climb off his lap and sit next to him again. Giving him time. To let him think. Cade was then looking down at her again with a sad smile.

"For now I will only be a dream away if you need me, little one. All you need to do is pray to the Mother. Let her hear that you need me and when you close your eyes to dream, I will be there for you. Both me and Crimson will be. Remember the Mother allows these visits. We should be grateful that she allows it. But as you grow I will guide you as the next Dracontine, and I will teach you as much as I can in your dreams about dragons and much more. About being the next Dracontine. Though there will be a time when you will not need me anymore Annamarie. But that won't be for a long time. For now me and Crimson will always be here for you whenever you need us in your dreams," Cade informed Anna with a smile.

This caused Anna to nod understanding. She was soon thinking about what he said and was stuck in her thoughts. She was thinking about a time she wouldn't need him. But she thought she would always need her grandfather Cade and Crimson. Which made her grow sad.

Looking over at Anna, Cade instantly knew what she was thinking about. He sighed sadly until he heard a soft but loud growl escape Crimson's scaled muzzle. Looking up at the dragon his eyes met Crimson's golden snake like eyes. As if she could understand what was going on. Which she did. She was giving him a look and gestured to her back with her golden eyes. That was all Cade needed. But thinking for a moment and feeling Crimson's emotions soon Cade smiled as he turned to Anna. Taking in what Crimson was hinting at.

"How about we go for a fly in the sky above Annamarie. Before you wake," Cade asked Anna. Trying to get her mind off her thoughts of him being gone. He didn't want to think about it either. Hearing him though Anna quickly turned her head to Cade looking up at him with a wide smile.

As she nodded and stood up quickly making her way to Crimson's wing. The red dragon moved her large wing allowing Anna to climb up to sit on her back. A chuckle escaped Cade's lips as he followed after the excited child. And soon they were sitting on Crimson's back with Anna sitting in front of Cade.

Anna was in a giggling fit with a wide smile. She was smiling so much and wide it hurt her cheeks but she didn't care. As she looked back at her grandfather Cade when he asked her if she's ready. Which she nodded exclaiming yes. As she threw up her small arms then went back to leaning forward and holding onto Crimson. Like Cade had taught her many times to do before. Laughter escaped Cade's lips before he leaned forward making sure they were both secured and shouted.

"Crimson fly," he exclaimed to the dragon. Which led Crimson to throw her head back and let out a loud roar. As she brought up her wings and began to flap her massive wings. Letting the air under her wings and allowing the wind to lift her off the ground. And soon she was flying high above into the sky. Laughter was heard from both Anna and Cade as they felt the wind whipping past them.

The next day Anna woke up from her dream with a smile upon her lips.

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Years have passed by in a blurry motion for Anna. It was years later and Anna was now in her early twenties. Many things have happened over the time. Anna still had dreams about her grandfather Cade and Crimson. But not as much as she did as a child. But Anna couldn't be mad; her time was taken up by her job. Anna was now a full time servant in the Forest House in Autumn Court. She was the servant to the Lady of Autumn Court. Which Anna couldn't complain about. Her Lady was kind to her. Very reserved and quiet but kind. Much like herself.

It was one day though when Anna was brushing out the Lady of Autumn Courts hair. When something happened that would change her life. In the middle of brushing her Lady's hair Anna was humming a tune. Both were content at that moment.

When suddenly Anna stopped her humming and movement. She was then staring outside the vast window. There was a call. It was faint but it was there like whispers in the wind. It was as if something was calling out to her... to no one else but Anna.

The Lady was confused. She was wondering why Anna stopped her humming of a peaceful melody, and the brushing of her hair. She then turned to Anna. She was soon asking if Anna was alright. When she didn't hear anything she placed a soft hand on Anna's arm. Which led Anna to look at her with glowing orange eyes. The Lady gasped and leaned away when she heard Anna whisper, "their calling to me... all three of them are calling to me."

"Who is calling to you Annamarie," the Lady asked with worry. She didn't know Anna very well. But she knew enough and was close to Anna. Being Anna was her servant. But Anna didn't answer her, and suddenly she was gone. Which caused the Lady to gasp and wonder where she went. She was quick to look around to see if anyone saw. Knowing if they did Anna would be in trouble and she didn't want that. She wanted to protect Anna. The young fae who has helped her on many occasions.

When Anna woke up she gasped seeing that she was in darkness. She was somewhere in the dark. Which frightened Anna. She was scared but gasped again when she felt something within her. It was her magic. But it was something different of some sort. Then suddenly a light came from her chest turning into an orb of light. Grasping her chest Anna gulped down a breath of air. Looking up at the orb of light she was in a state of awe. She then heard a voice she hadn't heard in months. It was her great grandfather Cade's voice.

"It is time little one. Time to obtain your three dragon eggs. Follow the light... it will guide you," Cade's voice was heard. A tear fell when Anna heard his deep comforting voice. But she wiped it away quickly. Soon she was following his instructions. Anna was then grabbing the end of her dress and walking behind the orb of light.

After some time Anna was walking through the cave for what felt like forever. She then met with a vast looking open area in the cave. Then suddenly the light was zipping in front of her. Then it stopped. Anna was quick to run to it. And there she saw them... three dragon eggs. A laugh escaped her lips but she covered it with her hand. As tears fell down her cheeks. She was overjoyed to have found them. She was then quick to reach out for them.

But as she touched them a painful gasp left her lips. She felt her body burn. It started from her chest and traveled all over her body. Which led her to groan in pain. But she embraced it as she felt her body begin to change. Her pointed ears stretched longer. She then felt her two teeth become pointed into small fangs. Then there was a burning sensation she felt on her chest. And finally the power within her.

A laugh escaped her again. As she picked up all three eggs, hugging them to her chest. But the laughter died down and a gasp escaped her lips. Now realizing that she left and disappeared right in front of the Lady of Autumn Court. She knew she was in trouble. Then before she knew it suddenly she was engulfed in darkness again. And not by her doing. She then found herself on the floor in front of her Lady. Who was looking at Anna with shock.

"Where did you go? What happened?" She asked Anna with concern. As she walked to her from the door. Having kept a lookout making sure no one came into the room. But as she walked closer she looked down and saw what was in Anna's arms. A gasp left her lips as she looked at Anna in awe. As she looked at not one but three dragon eggs.

"You're a Dracontine? Aren't you? You're a descendant of the one called Cade," the Lady asked with wide curious eyes. Anna saw where she was and looked around. Then at the Lady and a soft sob escaped her lips. As she hugged her three dragon eggs close to her chest. She couldn't believe she was here of all places. She couldn't believe she was going to be caught when she just found her eggs.

"it's alright Annamarie I will not tell anyone. I will not breathe a word about this to anyone. I promise," the Lady promised Anna. As she knelt in front of Anna trying to sooth her. She didn't want Anna to worry. She wouldn't tell anyone about such a discovery. Not even the High Lord himself. Once Anna heard this she gasped and quickly looked up at the High Lady of Autumn Court.

"You won't tell anyone? Not even the High Lord Beron?"

"No. I won't. But first let's hide these new ears of yours. And you can tell me as much as you want to. That is if you're comfortable," the Lady smiled widely for the first time in a long time. She couldn't stop herself from being excited. She once had a fascination with dragons herself. Hearing this though caused Anna to smile and nod. She could have hugged the Lady. But she knew it wasn't proper, and her hands were currently full. She was soon telling the Lady a little about her being the next Dracontine. Then telling her about dragons. As the Lady brushed her hair. Making it so that Anna's new longer pointed ears were covered by her long dark brown curly hair. Anna told her she didn't have to do such a thing. But the Lady shook her head and made her stay seated. As she brushed her long curly hair.

Soon when she was done the Lady made sure to give her a small brown bag. A bag that could hang by her side that Anna could put her dragon eggs in. So she would be able to keep them close to her. It was a spelled bag that only Anna could open. She then walked Anna to the servant quarters and then to her small room. They received looks but the Lady didn't care.

The Lady of Autumn Court then allowed Anna time off to go visit her family. Well more so made her take time off to visit her family. Which Anna agreed to reluctantly. The Lady then left with the promise to not tell anyone. Which Anna believed as she waved goodbye to her Lady with a smile.

She then quickly closed the door to her room and locked it. She then bursted into a giggling fit as she hugged the bag to her chest. She then took out her dragon eggs carefully and smiled at them. Whispering to them a promise, "I promise I'll keep you safe my three precious dragons."

───── Dracontine tag-list ─────

blackgirlmagicforever

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[captainwans]

LAST TRAIN TO LONDON.

pairing: professor!alex turner x student!fem!oc

word count: 6.5k words

━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄. | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑮.

summary: nina collett is many things. she’s a devoted mother, a loyal friend, a daughter, and a dedicated student. each aspect of her life has challenges and its sacrifices and she is forced to confront these, demanding her constant attention. amidst the whirlwind of responsibilities and emotions, she finds her professor becoming more involved in her life than she expected, adding another layer of turbulence to her already chaotic life. balancing the fine line between professional boundaries and personal feelings was more difficult than she anticipated, all while she was trying to keep her life from unraveling.

warning: this series contains mature scenes, sexual references, character death, vulgar language, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, mental illness, age gap (student in her twenties), an excruciating slow-burn (now i’m being dramatic, but you get the picture), other triggering topics, and all the feels (—i’m talking about sweet-teeth rotting fluff that makes you want to evaporate. or soul wrenching angst that feels like a punch in the gut). if any of themes, opinions or content upsets you or makes you uncomfortable, feel free to message me, or simply, do not read it.

𝓝ina fiddled with her lighter, soft curses emitting from her lips when it didn’t ignite. She cupped her cigarette with one hand, and the corner of her eyes crinkled as she tried to assault her lighter to catch any sparks of fire. After a few tries, a small but weak fire ignited, and she didn’t hesitate to place the cigarette close to the lighter. She placed the stick to her lips, cheeks hollowed before puffing out the smoke. She let out a content sigh, the cigarette resting between her fingers as she let her back hit the platform. 

Nina stared through space, her mind working overtime as she waited for her last train home. Exhaustion engulfed her body like a blanket and she had to close her eyes for a second, her lips turning into a tired sneer as a yawn escaped from her mouth. She had spent the weekend with her closest friends and family, celebrating her best friend for who had just become a new mother. Her lips curled into a smile, the idea of Breana being a mother sent a fluttering warmness into her chest. But that warmness soon manifested into a heavy feeling, more toward herself at her role of being a mother—which she knew Breana would do a hell of a lot job better than her. 

It wasn’t that she was a bad mother—-no, far from it. Her daughter means the world to her and she loves her one-year-old with every fiber of her being. Mathilda was the center of her universe. Every decision, every choice, and every sacrifice had been made for her and it would continue to be so. Yet, as she was watching Breana’s newborn cuddled in his father’s arms, a prickling pain stirred inside her chest. It was a painful reminder that she could never give Mathilda the chance to meet her father.

The tragic fate of her fiancé, Josh, along with carrying a child left a scar deeper than she imagined. Guilt and shame stirred within her, filling every crevice of her brain and shaking her to the core. She often found herself replaying the moment she learned of his death, each replay worsening her misery. It was a memory filled by the harsh words of her mother-in-law, who had called her stupid and an embarrassment. Josh had died in a car accident during a heavy storm, an accident Nina blamed on herself because she had asked him to run some errands that day. It’s your fault. He is dead because of you. Her voice echoed inside her mind, leaching her sense of self. Suddenly, the idea of being a mother with dreams and ambitions felt too far out of reach. It didn’t seem so appealing anymore. She felt hollow, overwhelmed, and scared by the thought of raising a child on her own and finishing her studies seemed like an impossible task.

In the midst of the storm, Nina refused to give up. She kept thinking of Josh and she knew he would never want this for her. Being shunned by her in-laws gave her the chance to focus on what truly mattered—her own family. She didn’t have the best relationship with her parents growing up, but when Mathilda was born, everything changed. Suddenly, there were daily calls, frequent visits, and a lot more affection than she was used to. It felt strange at first, but she slowly got used to it, realizing that she wouldn’t trade it for anything. This was her chance to heal old wounds and finally make things right. 

Mathilda was her own little sunshine—a bright and joyful child who filled the house with laughter, giggles, and warmth. It was something Nina hadn’t known that she needed so much. By looking into those big, innocent eyes, she knew she was going to be okay and that Josh would always be with her, living through Mathilda. Being a mother was the hardest task in her life, but it was also the best task she could ever ask for.

“This is the last train to London. No other trains are leaving for London today.” A male announcer’s monotonic tone pulled her out of her melancholy, making her sigh before throwing her lifeless cigarette on the ground. She stomped on the stick with her heel, hands tightening her bag that was securely wrapped around her shoulder. She stood in line among many others, eyes darting around her. Her hazel eyes found a child, whose doe-eyes were boring into hers as she sat on her mother’s shoulders. 

Nina felt her heart swell, the way the child’s eyes glowered from the lights above, reminding her of her sweet baby girl who was waiting for her to come home. The little girl on her mother’s shoulder brought her little hands up to wave, which she gladly did the same as her lips curved into a sweet smile. She watched a big toothy grin etch onto the baby’s face, lips emitting small giggles. The mother looked up, moving her gaze to where her daughter was looking at. The woman politely smiled toward the female, her head nodding in greeting as she gripped her child’s hands. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, bub?” 

Nina’s heart fluttered, eyes softening at the little girl shyly nodding her head. She hummed, smiling at the woman. She turned her head back to her daughter, a wide smile reaching her features. “And aren’t you the cutest thing ever?” she cooed, fingers tickling her side earning a happy beam. Some turned their heads to the interaction, smiles forming their tired faces, and others who stood in line impatiently and just wanted to hop on the train.

Nina stepped onto the train, her heels loudly clanking against the hard metal ground causing a few heads to turn her way. She felt heat wash over her, blood rushing through her ears at the unwanted attention as she squeezed herself into the cramped space of passengers trying to blend in. Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyebrows furrowed with discomfort as she swarmed into the heavy mass of bodies occupying the exit area. 

She bit her lip, stifling back a groan, feeling someone’s heel stepping on her toes. She clenched her jaw, her narrowed eyes darting across the packed ambiance as she looked for empty seats or even a place to stand. Much to her dismay, it was none as it was inhabited by many other frustrated passengers. She fixed the strap of her bag and clutched it tightly against her body, eyes still searching. But as she was looking her eyes locked with none other than her professor, whose eyes were hesitant, but soft as he gave her a polite smile in greeting.

Her heart leaped out of her chest, feeling a dust of crimson dancing across her cheeks. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, returning his smile with an uncertain simper, mostly to herself as she was contemplating whether or not he was smiling at her or someone else. “Excuse me, ma’am.” 

A rough voice startled her out of her state, head snapping toward a man who was standing beside her, looking rather impatient. She sheepishly apologized, realizing where she was standing, and moved to the side. She blew her cheek out with a heavy breath as her feet led her toward the other side of the train, hand gripping the metal pole tightly.

Her mind started wandering back to him, who was standing a few feet away from her. She could only see his face as his figure was covered by commuters standing in the middle of the train. She wondered what he was wearing since she was used to his formal attire—suit pants, black striped shirt, sometimes a plain white shirt and if you took a closer look you could see a small silver chain wrapped delicately around his neck. A warm feeling settled into her stomach and she cringed for feeling this way about her own professor. It wasn’t like she was in love with him like any other student was, but she couldn’t help but immerse in the idea of seeing him under different circumstances.  

There wasn't that much of an age gap between them and by the looks of it, he looked fairly young compared to other professors and employees in the university. The subject of age seemed to be the most appealing amongst the students, especially for the female students who gave him heart eyes whenever he entered the lecture room. Most of his lectures included cheeky and flirty remarks from the girls in the front row, desperate to grasp his attention. Nina was quite the opposite, well—Mr. Turner was definitely appealing to her eyes, but due to her shame and bashful nature, she prefers to keep her fantasies and opinions to herself. She has for certain thought about him rearranging her insides in the classroom once or twice, but you didn’t hear that from her. 

Besides her infatuation, she finds him incredibly intelligent and a good lecturer. Mr. Turner is quite the talker, which is not surprising with the way the girls are piling up his feet, but that part seems to be irrelevant to him. And she liked that about him—he’s only here to do his job, nothing more. She usually sits in the front row, but distances herself from the annoyingly loud girls who wanted nothing more than to sleep with him. 

     “Mr. Turner, what are your plans this weekend?” A student interrupted the professor mid-sentence, earning his attention as his eyes averted away from the projector, toward the young female who leaned closer against the table with a flirtatious smile. 

     The lecturer held his breath, lips pressed into a thin line as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Nothing that concerns you,” he replied with a tip-lipped smile, brushing off her flirtatious nature as he placed his hands on his hips before clearing his throat. “As I was saying….” he continued with his lecture, ignoring the hushed whispers coming from the girls in the front row. 

     This went back and forth and Nina fought the urge to roll her eyes at one of them as she scribbled down a few words in her notebook. She bit her lip in concentration, eyebrows creasing her forehead whilst trying to pay attention to what he was saying among the loud whispers that were filling every crevice of her brain. She tsked, face morphing into a scowl as she shared a look with her friend, who was sitting beside her just as annoyed.

     Her irritation, along with the rest of the class, seemed to catch his attention, the character in her eyes mirroring his as he noticed her look of discomfort. He paused, causing the room to be quiet too. The hushed whispers and murmurs seemed to cease, everyone holding their breath in anticipation. 

     Mr. Turner stepped closer to his audience, eyes darting across the room as he studied the state of his students. He licked his lips before speaking, hand gripping his projector controller. “Raise your hand if you’re deeply disturbed by the people from the front seat.” he simply told his students with his hand raised, voice calm and stoic. 

     Nina wanted to laugh at how the girls’ expressions changed, looking behind them to see that everyone raised their hand in the air, including her as they voiced their shared complaints. She quietly snickered, covering a hand over her mouth, earning his attention. She saw a glint in his eyes before he moved his head toward his class. “If you’re here for the sake of learning, you’re seated. If there are other reasons, you may leave,” he ordered, sauntering backward.

     His arm was stretched, the controller in his hand marking a red dot pointed toward the door. “The door is right behind me,” he said once again, a small smile reaching his face as he watched the spectacle in front of him. The seats were rearranged as half of the class started leaving, making some students who were seated cheer in delight, making her stifle back a grin. 

     She slumped back into her seat, deeply exhaling as she mumbled incoherent things under her breath. “Thank God,” she sighed, earning a response from her friend. She fixed her posture, hands running over her notes to see where she left off. 

     She watched Mr. Turner’s lips curve upwards, watching them leave the lecture room before moving his head back to his remaining students. She watched his eyes trailing over the front row, and she almost jumped when he locked eyes with her. He gave her a smile and she didn’t know if she was delusional, but she swore she saw him winking at her.

A harsh collision between her and another passenger brought her out of her daydream, feeling their body trapping her against the window. She let out a raspy gasp, the burning ache on her side clawing its way to her throat. She quietly hissed, face forming into a scorn as she brought a hand to her right side. “Fuck,” she murmured, rubbing the area which she knew was going to be a nasty bruise.

Nina’s ears burned with their profuse apologies, and she had to swallow back a shady remark that would probably kick her out of the train. She gritted her teeth in pain, jaw so tightly clutched that she could only nod her head, sending a sharp smile their way before moving her gaze forward. Much to her luck, her eyes found his once again—this time clouding with genuine concern. 

Blood rushed through her face, feeling herself getting hot as her thoughts spiraled out of control. The thought of him watching her getting slammed into the window was enough for her to cringe internally. She looked away for a second, and looked back at him before glancing beside her, unsure eyes looking for another suitable person that he sent his concerns to. She cursed inside her mind, clenching her jaw before looking back at him with a finger pointed at herself. 

Mr. Turner’s lips curved upwards, eyes tinted with amusement as he nodded his head. He watched her mouth turn into an “o”, realization forming her features as she gave him a polite yet bashful smile before nodding. He saw her quickly moving her head, eyes looking elsewhere while being squeezed between two passengers. He felt her discomfort and he wanted to reach out to her and have him close to his side, but he knew that was too far out of his reach. 

The professor’s mind was a hurricane. It was violently raging, swirling, and spinning that it was hard to tell where it was all leading. He looked away, gaze moving away from her toward the hard ground with a puzzled expression. A heavy feeling tugged at his chest. It was like something or someone was sitting on his ribs, crushing till he couldn’t breathe. His eyebrows creased his forehead and he brought his hand up to his chest, clutching his shirt into a fist as if he was trying to remove the shame that was latched into his heart. 

Alex knew it was wrong—very wrong. He had overstepped his boundaries, and he was fighting for his life to keep it professional. He exhaled with a heavy breath, chest heaving as he tried to shake the image of her from his mind. But it was no use; from the moment he saw her in his first lecture, he knew he was doomed. Those hazel eyes, so intently focused on him, seemed to see right through him. The way she listened so intently, with genuine interest and engagement, made him feel a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. It was as if her presence alone made him feel seen and valued.

Nina was top of his class, exceeding in every topic psychology had to offer. Her grasp of the subject was remarkable and her passion left him sometimes dumbfounded with her captivating insights and perspectives. She definitely left a profound impression on everyone around her—including him. Although she was reserved and quiet during most of his lectures, she had other ways to stand out as the shining star of his class. She was often seated at the front, nose buried in her notebook as she was scribbling down every word that came out of his mouth. She had ‘I’m smart and intelligent’ tattooed on her forehead, and he wasn’t all surprised when some of her classmates desperately volunteered to be in the same discussion group as her. He didn’t want to be the professor who had favorite students, but she was an exception.

     Nina walked forward with a stoic expression, eyes looking anywhere as she got lost in her inner world as she was on her way to her next lecture. She had her books close to her chest, arms crossed like two swords along with her tote bag tightly strapped to her shoulder. Her Chelsea boots skimmed smoothly down the marble floor, fastening their pace as she noticed the hallway slowly turning into traffic. 

     She grimaced, looking at the many students engulfed around the ambiance, just like her, trying to get to their class. Her stomach turned into knots, thoughts wandering over to her professor’s nagging and whining over her lateness. Her professor was a woman in her late 40s, mostly very sweet, but she was very picky and strict over time and punctuality. She could already hear her voice at the back of her head, and she was so immersed in the thought of Mrs. Williams that she didn’t notice someone walk her way. 

     Before her brain could register the sound of her books dropping, along with her glasses, her body collided with a hard chest. She lost balance and fell backward, her body dropping down the hard marble floor with a thud. Her lips emitted a small whimper, eyes squinting as her hands looked for her glasses amidst a busy crowd filled with students. “Shit,” she mumbled, a cloud entering her vision and she felt a burning ache on her right wrist.

     “I am terribly sorry. Here let me help,” she heard a deep–yet soft voice fill inside her eardrums, causing her to look up. She scorned, blinking a few times as she looked in front of her with her blurry vision. Her hand took hold of her glasses and she put them on, seeing the world clearly. 

     She noticed that her book was no longer on the floor and she instinctively looked up, gazing up to see Alex’s apologetic expression while he held his hand for her to help her on her feet. Crimson danced across her cheeks, along with a furiously beating heart as she slowly took his hand. 

     Nina gently brushed him off, voice soft as he hoisted her up to her feet. “N-No, please. I was in my own bubble and didn’t notice you walking towards me.” she sheepishly apologized with a shy smile as she felt him squeeze her hand before letting go, and she hated that he let go. 

     Alex chuckled, “I guess we’re both a little out of it today, huh?” he jested as the pair moved to the side, sauntering away from the busy crowd toward the end of the stairs. Nina held onto the stair rail, eyes looking at the people passing through the big hall. She locked eyes with her friend, standing beside the vending machine, who was looking at her with a knowing look. She gave her a glare at her giving her thumbs up, feeling heat creep upon her face before she moved her attention elsewhere. 

     “Your hand?” His voice pulled her attention toward him, watching his frown deepen as he watched her bruised wrist from the fall. She watched him hesitate for a second, fingers rubbing together before grabbing the hold of her wrist. The warmth from her face made it ten times worse, feeling the blood rush through her ears as she listened to her beating heart. 

     Guilt prickled his chest, lips screwed up as he gently rubbed the bruise. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled in a faint apology, rough fingers moving in a circle pattern as if the bruise would go away. He bit his lower lip, fingers halting his gesture before he finally let go of her hand. He looked at her, a small smile reaching his face as he felt a war inside his mind. He cursed inside his head, feeling like he crossed a line between being professional and overstepping boundaries.  

     Nina didn’t seem to mind. She watched him, heart stuttering against her chest at his touch. Her jaw slacked, and she saw him moving his head, eyes looking at her. She realized that she hadn’t said anything and she blinked before clearing her throat, bashfully smiling. “Oh, it’s fine, really.” she brushed him off, ignoring the throbbing pain on her wrist. She let out a small chuckle. “It’s not the first time I’ve hurt myself going down this hallway. The amount of times I’ve tripped and fallen is pretty concerning.” she tried to lighten up, ceasing some of the guilt that was reaching his eyes. 

     Alex’s chest rumbled with a deep chuckle, lips curving upwards at her simper. He let his body lean against the stair rail, gaze averting away from her toward the busy hall. “Yeah, tell me about it. It’s like watching the Hunger Games or something. I don’t get why they’re all in a rush, though.” he said, lips pressed into a thin line. 

     Nina bit her lip, eyes darting across his handsome features. She looked back at the hall, shrugging with a grin, eyes tinted with playfulness. “Could be a race against who would get to your class first. You see those girls?” she said, pointing a finger at them. “Yeah, definitely in a hurry to sit in the front seat.” she joked, lips emitting a small giggle before turning her head to him.

    Alex grimaced, shaking his head with a laugh. “Oh, god no.” he let out a breathy chuckle, licking his lips. His eyes sparked. “They’re definitely running to Miles’ class. Heard they dropped out of psychology and are taking music studies instead,” he told her, scoffing at the end making her mouth gape open. 

     “What? Really?” She expressed, eyes wide almost building out its sockets as she watched him nodding his head. His eyes danced at her reaction, sending an amused smile her way. “Mhm. Think Miles can handle it, though. He loves the attention.” he said with another chuckle, referring to his colleague and close friend.

     Nina’s eyes lit up at the mention of the music professor. She remembered that he was a substitute for Alex one time and she grew very fond of him during that lecture. Miles Kane was very jovial and full of energy, which seemed to match her class, as they developed a liking to him. While he had no such expertise with Mr. Turner’s subjects, Miles sure had an interesting way of presenting given topics with his competence—being music. 

     She thought about Mrs. Williams’ class and she knew she was already running late, but she couldn’t seem to find the energy to care as she was glued beside her favorite professor indulging in a conversation—which was the longest conversation she’d ever had with him, ever.

     “See you in class at three?” Alex asked with a gentle smile, hope tinted in his voice as he changed the subject.

     He watched her face morph into a small frown as she shook her head. “Sorry. I have a dentist appointment.” He nodded in understanding, his face clouding with slight disappointment at her absence from today’s lecture, but that look quickly vanished as it rapidly appeared. This went unnoticed by the latter and he watched her eyes lit up.

     “Oh, by the way. I couldn’t send the last assignment because my computer is not working at the moment, but I did print it and–uh, wait…I think I got it. I’ll give it to you. Hold on.” she bubbled, words mumbling incoherent words as she roamed her hands around her bag to look for her papers. 

     The professor’s deep chuckle filled her ears, causing a tremor of butterflies to swarm into her stomach. She felt his hand rest on her arm, making her look up. She hated that she was so easily susceptible to him. She felt hot under his touch. She watched him shake his head, slowly pulling his hand away making her frown. “Don’t even worry about it.” 

     Her heart stuttered against her chest, making her let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She pouted, “Are you sure, Mr. Turner?” she asked him, doe-eyes looking into his soft caramel orbs that she shamefully had grown to love. 

     He nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Don’t sweat it. and besides…You’re my A student, and I know that with this assignment it will be just as strong as the others. Your writing is…. incredibly remarking, I must say. I really admire your passion for this subject.” he gushes, lips curving upwards at her response. 

     Nina’s features went from a bashful expression to an appreciative look. Her lips morphed into a smile, showing her teeth as the rapid of her chest stuttered. His words kept repeating inside her head like a mantra and she covered her fingers on her mouth to hide a big grin. She bit her lip, eyes sparking. “T-Thank you, Mr. Turner.” she shyly accepted his compliment, eyes softening at the way he was looking at her with another polite simper. 

     The professor hummed with a tip-lipped smile, mouth closing as the pair fell into silence. Alex’s eyes danced, mirroring the way his stomach swooned with butterflies. He felt a tug at his heartstrings, chest prickling for developing such feelings for his student. As much as he tried to resist, he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger longer on her face. It traced down every feature, every line, and then back to her hazel eyes before trailing down to her lips. 

     “Mr. Turner?” he slightly jumped, her honey-filled voice pulling him back to reality. He blinked, noticing her looking at him with a look he couldn't quite decipher, with her head tilted to the side. Blood rushed through his face, a flustered expression forming his handsome features as he realized that he had been mindlessly staring at her without knowing. He let out a breathy chuckle, heart palpitating against his chest as his lips emitted small apologies. 

     She hummed with a small giggle, shaking her head at him. “It’s quite alright,” she reassured, eyes soft as she watched him let out another chuckle. 

     Alex sighed, loudly cursing inside his head and he looked down at his hands realizing that he was still holding her books. His eyes widened, his brain registering that she was probably headed to her class. “Right…uh–your books. I am so sorry. Here. I’ll see you next week then.” Alex stuttered, handing over her books before clearing his throat and turning on his heel. He grimaced, cursing internally while having his back to her as he fastened his pace. 

     Way to go, Alex. He thought.

Alex snapped out of his state, his tired eyes moving from the filthy ground toward her, again. He quickly looked away as a small curse emitted from his lips, feeling like a predator watching his prey. He ran a hand over his hair, his hand carding through his locks, his nails lightly scraping at his scalp. He closed his eyes, a long sigh escaping from his lips, and letting his back hit the wall. Stop looking at her, you fucking creep. He thought to himself, jaw clenched so hard that it would break at any second. 

Should I ask her to stand beside me, or is that weird? He thought, his handsome features morphing into a grimace. He bit his lower lip, hand tightening around the grip handle as he was battling internal turmoil. But she looks uncomfortable, though. Should I do it–no, fuck. It makes you look weird—His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by an awkward cough coming from behind him. “Excuse me.”

Alex shifted his body to the side while his hand was holding the grip handle to prevent him from falling. He looked at them, eyes apologetic as he let them through. He felt heat flood over his face, realizing that he had taken up the entire space. He was so immersed in his own world that he forgot everything else around him. 

A small giggle earned his attention, head whirled toward the sound coming next to him. His gaze softened, watching a little girl nestled into her mother’s arms. The child had her eyes on him, doe-eyes curiously staring at him with a happy beam. His lips curled up, bringing his hand out to wave. Her reaction was laughable, making Alex chuckle as he watched her shyly hide her face in her mother’s chest. 

He moved his gaze away, eyes staring through empty space. He felt eyes on him, making him clench his jaw. He knew it was her and he felt her boring her eyes into the side of his head. It felt like he was going to have holes in his temple and he was contemplating his next actions. When he couldn’t handle it anymore, he finally looked over at her, still in the same uncomfortable position with commuters wedged between her. 

Alex felt his heart skip a beat as he watched her sending him a small smile. He returned her smile, eyes growing tender. ‘Are you okay?’ he mouthed, referring to her current state. His stomach turned into knots, watching her huddled into a corner, trapped into the cramped space. He saw her nod her head, shoulders shrugging as she gave him a tired look. Fuck it, I’m doing it. he thought.

The never ending battle inside his head ceased and he didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from. The professor gestured with his head to the space next to him, indicating for her to stand. He saw her face etch into a confused look, tilting her head to the side. He gave her a look, eyes tinted with slight amusement and he gestured with his hand, pointing next to him. 

Realization dawned on her face. A flustered expression formed her delicate features, lips curled up as she mirrored his simper with a shy nod. She looked beside her, noticing a passenger asleep on her shoulder. She blew out a small breath, face gracing with a scorn as she carefully moved her shoulder. She shifted her body to the side, making the person’s head hit the window. She stifled back a laugh, chewing on her bottom lip as she was trying to squeeze through the crowded space. 

Nina deeply exhaled, not realizing she was holding her breath. Her eyes found him as she was walking toward him, whose face was painted with amusement at her situation. Her lips curved up, a dust of pink dancing across her cheeks as she held her bag close to her body. Her other hand was gripping on the rubber handle to keep her from falling, but the train lurched causing her to stumble on her feet. She gripped on the handle with both hands, feeling the train sped along the tracks, swaying side to side that made it difficult to walk. 

“Fucking hell,” she muttered under her breath, the train’s erratic jerks nearly throwing her off her balance. She managed to carefully make her way toward him, but just as she neared her professor, she tripped over her own feet. Her lips uttered a small squeak just as he caught her in time, steadying her with a firm grip before she could fall. “Woah there—-I’ve got you.” his deep voice filled inside her eardrums, feeling his arm around her waist.

Nina felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, eyes looking anywhere but him. She let his touch soak into her skin, his warmth sending electricity through her. She turned to face him, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. She watched him smiling softly down at her, “Well, that would’ve been one way to make an entrance.” she heard him say, making her lips twitch upwards. 

Nina hummed with a small chuckle, eyes sparking. “I guess I’ve got a future in stunt work if my psychology degree doesn’t pan out.” she jested, wiggling her eyebrows making her professor laugh. She joined him, but their laughter seemed to abruptly cease, noticing some people on the train giving them disapproving looks. 

The pair looked back at each other, stifling back another laugh. Alex looked at the old couple glaring daggers at them, his lips curving upwards. “Someone skipped their coffee this morning.” he said in a small voice, his voice barely above a whisper, but she heard him nonetheless. 

Nina nodded her head, a simper resting on her lips. "You’re right. They look like they could use a strong cup right now.” she whispered, eyes averting away from the couple toward him, her grin widening as they both dissolved in quiet laughter.

The Collett girl tried her best to stomp down the butterflies that swarmed into her stomach, the sound of his laughter sending her almost reeling. She felt a flush of rose spread across her cheeks, along with a furiously beating heart that she was so sure of him hearing. Nina was taken off guard how they effortlessly fell into a conversation, their words flowing as freely as the train moved along the tracks. 

She couldn’t grasp where she got her sudden confidence from, her shyness melting away as they talked about anything and everything that came to mind. He told her about his passion for music, revealing a side of him she hadn’t expected. She shared snippets of her life, but hesitating to mention her daughter waiting for her at home. She felt it wasn’t the time nor the place to reveal such information, yet.  

The conversation flowed, creating a pleasant rhythm between them. Yet, as the conversation eventually began to fade, a comfortable silence engulfed around them. They exchanged occasional glances from time to time, gentle smiles and soft looks toward each other. The train rumbled along, the clatter of tracks being the only sound that was heard over the cramped ambiance. It was quiet on the train. There were a few murmurs and hushed whispers from a few passengers, while the rest were either seated or standing with tired expressions, face blunt as a white canvas. It created a peaceful atmosphere, allowing people to retreat into their own thoughts. 

Then, the silence was interrupted by a sudden jolt as the train lurched violently. Nina was caught off guard, losing her balance and before she could react she was flung forward. She collided with her professor, her body slamming into his hard chest. Her hands instinctively flew out, placing against his chest as she crashed into him, the scent of his cologne filling her senses. 

Alex’s arms were around her in an instant, hand gripping her waist with a firm but gentle hold, keeping her on her toes. “I got you, love.” he grunted, the use of an endearment slipping from his lips. Time seemed to slow as she looked up, her breath hitching as their eyes met. The world outside the train seemed to fade away, leaving only the pair wrapped in each other’s presence. 

Nina opened her mouth, but closed it, not knowing what to say. She was so immersed in his touch that she found herself unable to speak. Her fingers subconsciously curled against the fabric of his shirt as she looked at him. Her heart stammered against her chest, feeling blood rushing through her ears. She grew hot under his touch, his rough fingers tracing down her back was enough to make her pulse quicken. 

“Arriving in Paddington station.” The female announcer said through the speaker, causing the train to come to a stop. Some passengers flew out of the train, others were racing to get a seat or even a comfortable place to stand. 

A soft smile tugged at the corner of Alex’s lips, his firm yet gentle grip on her waist slowly loosening. It was as if he was reluctant to let her go. “There’s your stop,” he whispered, his hand running down her back comfortably before finally letting her go. And he hated that he had to let her go.

Nina seemed to snap back to her state, eyes blinking as she realized that she was still nestled up to his chest. A warm blushed tinged her face and she slowly left her hand, turning to her side to watch the passengers desperately trying to leave the packed train. She felt cold when his hand left her waist, along with the warmth of her face disappearing, as if someone was leaching all of the vibrancy out of her skin. A heavy feeling settled into her stomach and she exhaled before turning back to her professor. 

There was something in the way he was looking at her that made her stop in her tracks. His caramel eyes seemed to hold her in place, making the back of her hair stand up. She wanted to move and exit the train, but it was like her feet were glued to the ground. Her heart was having a war with how it was violently beating, and she wondered if everyone on the train could hear how fast it was thudding. She wanted to say something, but her mind was a swirling fog, preventing her from expressing her thoughts.

Someone brushing their shoulders with hers seemed to pull her back yet again from her spiraling mind. She bit her lip, feet slowly sauntering toward a small group of people ready to leave the train. She halted with her steps and turned her body toward him again with a kind smile. “See you next week, Mr. Turner.” she sheepishly bid her goodbyes, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He watched her leave in a hurry, her body disappearing into the mass as the door closed. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A frown was growing on his features, eyebrows creasing his forehead as he looked at the door. His own reflection was staring right back at him and he looked away, his gaze forward as his mind went haywire. 

Nina Collett, who are you really? He thought to himself.

[leikeliscomet]

Thoughts on Umbrella Academy's Ending and What it Says About Abuse - SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 AHEAD

(A Mini Essay If You Will)

What makes the ending of The Umbrella Academy devastating, and I mean an absolute tragedy isn't that just the characters we love are gone, but that they genuinely don't mean anything.

Luther started as the boy that did everything right but still wasn't enough for his father. He ended up repeating the cycle by feeling like he had to take control of every situation. He eventually lived life for himself, found Sloane and put his wants and needs first for the first time in his life after being raised to think his needs never mattered.

Diego felt like he was a 2nd fiddle, almost literally, and felt like he had to prove himself to Reggie. He took his inferiority out on everyone else. He finally realised he was good enough and didn't need his father's validation anymore. He became the father his father never was. He finally realised he was good enough.

Allison felt insecure and that she had to manipulate people into getting what and who she wanted. She finally made peace without those things and people and reconnected with her daughter after losing custody all those years ago. She finally became the mother she always wanted to be. She wanted to earn things by herself and she did.

Klaus spent his whole life haunted (almost literally) by his own failures. He worked so hard to get sober and he did. After feeling like the most useless member of the team his whole childhood, he mastered his powers and realised his own strengths, after living his life thinking he had none.

Five felt held back and not pushed enough. He blamed his siblings for holding him back and thought he was better than them. After apocalypse after apocalypse he realised he couldn't do it alone. He convinced himself he preferred being alone because he was scared to be vulnerable. He finally got what he wanted. A family. A community.

Ben's life ended before it even really began, but he at least got to see his siblings grow and develop without him. Sparrow Ben lost everyone both emotionally and physically. He had everything he wanted and still lost it all. With Jennifer, for once in his life, there was something, someone, he didn't need to prove himself or win at. He found someone that accepted him for him.

Viktor was neglected his whole life and was the constant outsider. He bottled up everything inside to the point of destruction of himself and of others. He finally accepted himself fully. His skills, his transition, his relationships, his life. He finally got the confidence and closure he needed to move on and be fulfilled.

Lila was haunted from the start in a cycle of murder and manipulation. She continued that cycle because she wasn't taught anything else. She was so scared she'd be like the Handler when she became a mother, but she didn't. She loved them in ways she was never loved. She got the family she always dreamed of.

Every single character despite the abuse they suffered still got closure and peace in their own way. They all grew. They all matured. They all thrived after being told that they never would.

And the show says this doesn't matter. They don't matter. They don't deserve to exist. They're all the problem. They will always be problems. They'll never escape their trauma. They will always be nothing but the byproducts of their abuse. They'll never be anything else but that. And because of that, none of them should live. And that's fucking horrifying. Despite this mess of an ending and the rasclart messaging it sends, I'll never see these characters as inherent problems or evils. I know they're not angels either but that was never the point. As Five once said, there are no good guys and bad guys, just people living their lives. Trauma messes shit up. Things get messy and complicated. In this show, or at least season 1, they were brave enough to tackle that mess. They all had the chance. They all all had potential. And we all saw it all. Don't forget that. The characters may be gone, but that potential was there. It was real. It existed.

[liyawritesss]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇ, ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ

Characters: MCU!Shuri Udaku x!Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 11.8k

Synopsis: It’s your sister’s 25th birthday, and she invited you over for the extravagant birthday bash. However, there’s only one problem. Shuri has never met your family. She also isn’t aware of their past mistreatment of you. So when your parents begin to make jabs at you on what is supposed to be a joyous event, Shuri might have to apologize to your sister for what is to come next.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of verbal + physical abuse, mentions of severe anxiety, a very angry Shuri shuts shit down, shitty parents, dysfunctional family dynamics

A/N: So....this came about after watching a clip of Love & Hip Hop ATL, where in the clip one of the guys on the show was confronting his mother about the mistreatment and neglect he got as a kid and how his mother took all her frustrations out on him when he had nothing to do with what she was going through. That video touched exceptionally close to home so I wanted to writing for such an event but with Shuri, as I think for someone who is quite family oriented (or who appears to be), she would definitely have a few choice words to say to parents like that. Plus, I wanted to provide comfort to those going through similar situations as teenagers and young adults with their own parents. So I hope that this brings comfort to some of you, as it has done to me when writing it.

Song Suggestions: "Naked" & "Everything" by Ella Mai, "Let Me Down Slowly" by Alec Benjamin ft. Alessia Cara, "Let It Go" by James Bay, "Losin' Control" by Russ, "Control" by Zoe Wees, "You're Not Here" by Cynthia Erivo, "You Let Me Down" by Alessia Cara

Tags: @6-noir @playhousedistee @shuririsdefenseattorney @shuriszn @venusdraco @wrendermedone @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @slytherin-34 @the_lesbian-fangirl @h34rtsformilli @strangefishflapturtle @cuddl3s4shur1 @shuriislut @dejaonline @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @inmyheadimobsessed @aaliyg @cafehyunji @chunkybabygorl @rosielovesfamily @lulu-network @nichole-224 @niyahwrites @lppriceisright @blacksapphhicmaddonna @pantherheart @marsfunzon22

Note: there are some of you that for some reason tumblr won't let me tag, so I apologize in advance.

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

The closer you were to pulling up to your sister’s home, the harder it was becoming for you to breathe.

It wasn’t like you were ignorant enough to believe you could escape this.  You’d always known, deep down inside, that one day, you’d have to face them again. Yet, here you were, tucked into the smooth tan leather of Shuri’s car, hiding the fact that you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, and your girlfriend to the left of you filled with positive anticipation to meet your family.

Your sister, Alex, was turning twenty-five today. It is a big celebration for your bloodline, and though much of the original purpose of the celebration had been lost due to oral passing, the general belief was that the lucky lady who’d survive to her twenty-fifth birthday was to be guaranteed a long, fulfilling life.

Of course your sister would have a long, fulfilling life. Alex was a woman of greatness. She’d worked hard in school, got into an amazing college, met a handsome guy who she’d married as soon as she landed her first official big-girl job at some law firm in your home city. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Alex was guaranteed for greatness.

Alex was…perfect.

You didn’t want to go. As much as you knew it would have hurt her to not have her sister at her side for her big day, Alex would’ve understood. You never liked the elaborate, extravagant lifestyle. You were a simple girl with simple pleasures, who led a simple life and wanted nothing more than to live simply.

Though, that seems contradictory, since about a year ago, you found yourself gaining the attention and affections of the very Queen of Wakanda. How you managed that feat, you would never know.

It was Shuri who had found the invitation. She was visiting you during an monthly check up at one of the outreach facilities posted in your town, when she had inevitably seen the pretty invitation sitting on your kitchen island. It was all written in cursive, no doubt the product of your sister’s perfect penmanship, and most of all, it was addressed to you and Shuri.

You’d only told Alex of your relationship after the six month mark. You wanted to be certain that such a relationship would last; though, now that you thought back on it, what good would it have done Shuri to play you? Her intentions and integrity were clear the first day she had introduced herself to you. She’d never given you any reason to not trust her, and yet, you had still doubted her. It was a period of time you regretted most, and yet, Shuri still loved you. And in realizing that she would continue to do so, even after seeing the ugly parts of you, you allowed yourself to truly love her back.

Shuri was ecstatic to go. She wanted to meet your sister in person, having only ever seen each other through video calls and communicated through text. And with Shuri’s pretty brown doe-eyes that had always been a weakness to you, you couldn’t say no.

And now, here you were, gripping the door handle tightly as you released tight breathes, wondering if it would have been beneficial to sit Shuri down and tell her the reason why your eyes showed a glimpse of dread when she’d picked up that invitation.

“Darling?” The Queen’s voice cuts through the cloudiness that fogs your brain, grounding you in a way only her honey-laced voice could do. “Are you alright?”

No, you want to say, turn the car around, take me home. I don’t want to go there-

“Yeah, just a bit tired.”

Shuri looks at you quizzingly. You have not been acting as yourself since the day she’d stopped by your apartment. Since, she’d been trying to pinpoint the cause, but to no avail. Even after a year together, she still found you hard to read sometimes. It was endearing to her, a challenge she greatly accepted as part of the packaged deal that came with your relationship. 

However, she couldn’t deny that this time, things felt…different.

There’s a melodic beeping that comes from the vehicle, and the red flashing on the dash panel alerts Shuri that the car is running out of gas. And not a second later, a familiar voice speaks from the surround-sound speakers:

Panther, the vehicle is reaching low fuel. It would be wise to refuel soon. There is a petrol station approximately ten miles ahead. Fuel here is priced at four ninety-seven per gallon.

“Thank you, Griot,” Shuri hums, turning to you, “we shall stop there. Fill up on gas and get some snacks. You haven’t eaten much today, my love.”

Though you fix your lips to protest Shuri’s ever so keen observation, the way her hand slips over your thigh, her open palm meeting your skin through the large hole in your ripped jeans, it’s almost enough to have you relent. “I did eat; at breakfast.”

“Which was eight hours ago,” Shuri reminds you, “almost nine, once we arrive at your sisters. I’m sure there will still be room for the food if you just have one bag of chips to hold you over.”

You hate how well Shuri knows you. It makes it hard to hide things with her keen perception and observation skills. Though, you suppose those traits all come with the territory of being The Black Panther.

A sigh escapes your lips, and the lack of a reply worries Shuri. Yet, she does not push. Instead, her thumb continues to swipe in soothing strokes along the smooth skin of your thigh as she continues to drive to the designated gas station.

All of five minutes pass until it comes into view. When Shuri parks at one of the gas lanes, she fishes into her pocket for her wallet. From it she produces a black card, and hands it to you. “Fifty should bring it back up,” the Queen says, “and a bag of chips for you should do the same.”

“Shuri, I said I’m fine-”

“Darling.” Shuri’s tone is firm, yet gentle, and leaves no room for argument. So all you can do is press a kiss to her cheek - a practice routine of mundane intimacy that brings you both pleasure - before exiting the car and walking towards the entrance of the gas station.

Shuri sits back in her seat, a sigh pushing past her lips. She’s not quite sure what to make of your behavior.

In the year that the two of you have been dating, never once did you bring up the topic of your family. Shuri didn’t even know you had a sister until six months ago. Alex reminded her much of Nakia in some sense - powerful and self made, and in that regard, she was glad that you had some semblance of family you could reach out to.

Your parents, however, were another story. A story you had well avoided, and as of recently as a few months ago, downright refused to talk about. It became quite clear that it was a touchy subject for you, so Shuri didn’t pry. However, she could not deny that part of her grew…heated, at the unpleasant thoughts that plagued her mind when it came to the reason for the non-existent relationship between you and them.

“Griot.”

“Yes, Panther?”

“What were my beloved’s vitals during the ride?”

A beat passes, as Griot computes.

“(Y/N)’s heart rate had been jumping from one hundred forty-five to one hundred seventy beats per minute. Her grip on the door was strong enough to break a thin glass cup. It appears (Y/N) was on the verge of an anxiety attack, but had been fighting it off for the duration of your journey.”

Shuri curses under her breath, more or less to herself at the information that had been relayed to her. 

“She has been on edge all morning,” Shuri says aloud, “I did not ask, for fear of triggering her, but I cannot allow her to feel threatened.”

Shuri knows your triggers like the back of her hand. She’s learned to speak in a level tone to avoid startlement; she’s learned to make her presence known when entering your space; and most importantly, she reassures you, letting you know each and every day how much she loves you, how much she treasure your existence in her life, and how she vows to hold your heart with the utmost care in the world.

Shuri is the smartest person in the world, and yet, she cannot decipher the reason behind her lover’s heightened emotions. If it weren’t for the fact that she was focused on figuring out why you were like this, and how to calm you down, she’d surely find the thought embarrassing.

“Might I speak freely, Panther?”

A hum rumbles from Shuri’s throat as a sign for the artificial intelligence to continue.

“(Y/N)’s vitals have been heighted since one week ago,” Griot points out, “around the same time she had received the invitation to her sister’s birthday party. It would be safe to assume that these two instances have a correlation with one another.”

  “You are insinuating that Alex’s birthday party is somehow the cause of my love’s anxiety spiking?”

“Perhaps not the party, but rather, who will be there, Panther.”

Silence fills the car as Shuri takes in the information given to her. Though, she doesn’t have much to think on it, as she spots your figure exiting the sticker-covered glass door of the gas station, a black plastic bag in hand, of which she hopes holds the snacks she had requested of you to get for yourself. She exits the car and takes hold of the gas nozzle, opening up the tiny door and unscrewing the protection cap, and slots the nozzle into the car to fill with fuel.

A few moments pass before Shuri returns to the car, having placed the nozzle back in it’s place and secured the gas compartment. Her black card rests on the arm rest, which she slips back into her wallet as the corner of her eyes catches you with something in your hand - something that’s not a bag of chips.

“I thought I told you chips, darling?” Shuri asks as she starts up the car again.

“I got chips!” You respond. “I wanted a Twix, too.”

Your free hand fishes into the black plastic back to produce a bottle of water for Shuri, slotting it into the cup holder.

“What is this?” Shuri asks, gesturing to the water bottle.

“You were thirsty,” You point out.

Shuri indeed was thirsty. She can’t help the smile that paints her lips soon after, taking the water bottle into her hand, unscrewing the cap, and taking a swig of the water.

“Are you sure you’re alright, my love?” Shuri asks once more after setting the water back down, preparing to put the car into motion.

To busy chewing on the cookie-chocolate-caramel treat, you opt for nodding your head, a short ‘mhm’ to accompany it.

As much as Shuri wanted to question further, she knew nothing would come of it. So she slips her hand back onto your thigh, presses down on the gas, and rolls out of the gas station, the conversation with Griot filing back into her mind as she drives down the long strip of highway.

“My parents are gonna come.”

You’d said it the second Shuri had parked into the driveway of your sister’s home. With each second that passed on the way there, your chest kept growing tighter and tighter. You thought that maybe if you focused on Shuri’s touch on you, or her low singing voice when Tems starts to flood the car with her hypnotic, warm and swelling voice, that maybe you would be able to calm down and not worry her. It usually worked, but perhaps because this instance was due to the fact that you would be seeing your parents for the first time in years, what was usually the cure for your attacks did very little to help.

Shuri pauses as the words leave your lips, and for a moment, it looks as if she is cross. And while she has every right to be, you hope that it isn’t at you.

You should have told her before the two of you left, as you thought to do. It plagued your mind when you were in the shower, when you were fixing your hair, when you were choosing your outfit. And Shuri had been in the same apartment with you the entire time. You had ample enough time to tell her and yet…you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You know Shuri. She would try to remain calm and collected for you, to not show her anger, because of course she would be angry either way. The car ride would have been in silence, the air thickening with each mile crossed from one city to the other. But you would know that she was upset. She should be upset now because you just dropped this bomb on her and-

“Beloved,” the Queen mutters to you, bringing you from your thoughts once more, “look at me.”

Your head turns to face Shuri. She’s put the car into park, one arm leaning on the arm rest, the other reaching over to soothe your nerves by caressing your outer thigh. She looks at you with a softness that relieves some of the pressure on your chest stunting your breathing. Her gaze tells you that she is not cross with you.

“Hey,” she says, “I am not upset with you.” And the reassurance helps you unclench the fists your hands have balled into.

She doesn’t speak again until she’s certain that your breathing has evened out, as opposed to the harsh and forced inhale-exhale pattern from before. “Is there…anything I should know?”

You tear your eyes away, but Shuri’s gaze remains firm. Consistency is key, she’s learned, when it comes to you confiding in her. Her eyes are your safe space, you will return to them. And you do, after a short moment, trying to gather your mind together.

“They’re not nice people,” you confess, eyes hesitantly returning to hers, “they’ll try and woo you and shit, but don’t fall for it. They ain’t shit.”

“Okay,” Shuri hums, “and…is there anything I can do? For you?”

“Um,” a shaky breath racks through your throat, as you speak, “they’re not here now. Alex texted me that, so I should be fine, but when they get here…j-just, don’t leave me alone.”

“I will not leave you alone.” Shuri assures. Her hand gathers yours into hers, your palms rendered chilly from cold sweat. “I promise.”

Gathering your hands into hers, Shuri brings them to her lips and presses a kiss to them. She then reaches over to press a kiss to your lips, of which you reciprocate gladly.

“Thank you for talking to me about this,” the Queen commends, “and telling me how to best take care of you. I know it is not easy-”

“I hate it-” you correct, which brings a grin to Shuri’s lips and a chuckle from her throat, because yes, she knows you hate it.

“-but you are doing it, and I am very proud of you for it.”

It’s sincere, Shuri’s praise. It’s still not easy for you to digest it, but you know her love is not transactional, conditional. She means what she says, and you know her love for you is unconditional and unyielding. 

She loves you. 

She is proud of you.

The pressure on your chest becomes lighter.

Upon exiting the car, you’re approached by your sister, Alex, who had seen the two of you pull into the driveway and wanted to be the first person you’d engage with. You’re not shocked when you see her eyes glassy looking - it’s been years since you two last saw each other face to face.

Alex is hesitant when approaching you - she wants to envelop you in the most bone-crushing hug she can muster, because she misses you and it has been so long since she’d held her baby sister. Though all it takes is for you to outstretch your arms to her, and Alex embraces you in the way she had been dreaming of.

“Oh, mama,” Alex breathes as she pulls away to get a better look at you. You notice the youthfulness in her face and the life in her eyes. She looks happy, “look at you. All grown up. My baby sissy is all grown ‘nd shit.”

It’s heartfelt, her words, and they make you smile. Alex turns to look at Shuri, who’s chosen to stand to the side to witness the sisterly reunion without interrupting. “And you have a girlfriend? You have to tell me how this happened.”

“By complete accident,” you say, as Shuri steps up. Her hand presses into the small of your back, encouraging you while she holds the other out to greet Alex officially, “but I guess anything can happen when you spill coffee on someone in the middle of a morning rush.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Alex.” Shuri says.

Alex shakes Shuri’s hand, and the Queen notes the hesitance in the older sister's movements. “Well, it’s not every day you meet the queen of a country. Much less, a queen of a country that’s also my sister’s girlfriend.”

“Well, I hope not to bring too much excitement with my titles,” says Shuri, “I am more than alright with being just Shuri.”

She sincerely hoped that she could just remain Shuri. For if a situation arises that she would have to act in the manner of either of her titles - Queen or Black Panther - she could not promise that the birthday celebration would remain a splendor.

An hour passes before either of you know it. You’ve found entertainment amongst the younger cousins who all gawk at your girlfriend, who sits not too far away. Shuri has a cup of punch in hand as she watches you chase the children around the yard, a small smile on her lips. It’s as if you are reliving a part of your childhood you’ve missed, the way you seem so content with the children. It all but warms her heart.

“So,” Alex’s voice interrupts Shuri’s not so discreet admiration of her girlfriend, nearly making the Queen jump, “you and my sister?”

“Ah,” Shuri breathes, looking down into her cup as a rush of heat travels up her dark skin, “me and your sister.”

“I’m not gonna go into the whole interrogation thing, grilling you on if you’re treating her right,” Alex says, “I see how you look at her. If that ain’t the look of someone in love, then I’on know what is.”

Shuri chuckles at that, because she knows that Alex’s observations are true. In fact she has no idea just how correct her observation is.

Shuri leans forward in her seat, elbows propped up on her knees as she finds your figure amidst the mess of kids once again. Her necklace dangles from her neck, the gold contrasting against her black tee that nearly meets the fabric of her ripped blue jeans with her hunched over position.

“(Y/N) is…the ray of sunlight one sees after a long, dark night,” the Queen hums fondly, “and had I known my gods would send me such a woman, I would have prepared myself better.”

Alex smiles warmly. She can tell the strong connection between you and Shuri is pure and unadulterated. It warms her heart beyond comparison.

“Thank you for coming, truly,” Alex says, “I was almost worried she wouldn’t, since our parents would be here and everything.”

And at the mention of them, Shuri finds her jaw tightening just the slightest.

“Your parents?” Shuri is beginning to put two and two together, and she doesn’t like the outcome that is unfolding from her assumptions, however careful they are.

“I…assume she’s told you about them?” Alex implies.

Shuri shakes her head lightly, taking a sip of her semi-forgotten punch. “I find myself piecing the picture together on my own…She does not talk about them.”

“That isn’t a surprise,” Alex says, “given…well, everything.”

Shuri turns her head to look at Alex. Her eyes are firm, inquisitive; Alex’s words have sparked an interest in Shuri.

”She says they aren’t good people. Is that true?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Alex replies, “to the community, their saints. To us they’re just….people.”

Shuri notes the hint of solemness that laces Alex’s voice as she speaks. “They weren’t good to either of us…but they were especially bad to (Y/N).” Alex clarifies. “You know what they say; hurt people, hurt people.”

Not when the person is your child, Shuri thinks, but keeps to herself, taking another sip of her punch. Things are starting to make sense now, and Shuri finds that perhaps she will also have to have you at her side to ground her whenever your parents decide to show up.

“So you mean to tell me you got yourself stuck in a tree, and then got angry because she tried to help you get down?”

“I was not stuck! I was admiring the view.”

“Sure you were…with tears coming down your face.”

“I think this classifies as bullying-”

Shuri had grown quite comfortable as the next hour passed. More of your family had begun to show up, a number of aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, and cousins wishing Alex a happy birthday as they passed through the foyer of her house and into the backyard. Shuri couldn’t count the amount of gasps she’d heard when their eyes fell upon her, sat comfortably in the outdoor gazebo, her presence obviously a surprise to the many relatives who had come to celebrate the special birthday girl. Much more, the fact that she had you close to her side as she greeted them.

The behavior of your family members irked her. Shuri suspected that Alex had talked to each of the adults to assure that they’d be on their best behavior for the occasion, given the tight smiles and curt greetings between each of them and you. Or perhaps it was because of her own intimidating presence next to you, and the fact that she wasn’t even trying to hide the look in her eyes as she analyzed each adult that seemed to pass through.

“Babe,” you cleared your throat, “stop looking like that, you’re scaring them.”

“Looking like what?”

“Like you’re contemplating murder.”

Would it have been so bad if she was, though?

Shuri sighs as she places the red solo cup she had been nursing for a while onto the table. “Just behave, for Alex-”

“I am behaving for you,” the queen clarifies, “and your sister would say the same.”

Unable to comment any further, you released an exhale through the nose, sinking back into Shuri’s side.

“It’s guilt, y’know.” You try to reason, but Shuri had already considered that route. Perhaps there were a few who did have a guilty conscience. Shuri didn’t find herself caring if that was true or not. “They’re not bad.”

“Beloved-”

“Shuri.”

“-I am merely observing,” she says, “I promise.”

Of course Shuri was only observing. Observing the behavior of each adult family member. How they acted towards you. How very little regard was given to you. How, with the amount of bodies that have accumulated in the backyard, the gazebo area remained relatively desolate, beside the two of you, Alex, and Alex’s black and white spotted cat, who had made a home on the red painted banister.

Sure. Shuri was just observing. Definitely not questioning anything at all. Definitely not formulating words she would say to your parents if they decided to make themselves an issue.

“I’m gonna go get a shot,” you say, before propping yourself up with your hands and lifting from the cushion of the outdoor couch, “you want a refill?”

You take Shuri’s cup before she officially gives you a response. You needed a way out, to move around so that the beating in your chest could quell.

Inside there isn’t much of a party scene - it's practically empty besides a teenage family member fighting their sleep on the couch while watching an infant in the living room. The music from outside is muffled when you enter the house, and you take the time to admire the mahogany walls and deep maroon floors of the home. You could compare it to the childhood home you’ve grown up in, and you think that perhaps this was Alex’s way of healing. Recreating your shared childhood environment in a more peaceful manner.

You find the kitchen quite easily, rounding the kitchen island in pursuit of the adult punch purposefully left inside so that the underaged family members wouldn’t get it confused with the family friendly punch that rested in a big glass bowl on the party table outside. On the counter is an array of liquor choices, from fruit flavored tequila to everyone's favorite, Hennessy. You weren’t a drinker, but this far into the party, you needed some sort of incentive to get you to relax a little bit.

Once you’ve chosen your choice of liquor, you take a red solo cup, pour what you deemed to be a shot's worth, and downed it in one gulp. The burn in your throat definitely woke your senses, of which you were grateful for.

On your way towards the kitchen doorway, Shuri’s refilled solo cup in hand, the sound of familiar voices drifted to your ears from the foyer, and it made you stop dead in your tracks. 

“Happy birthday baby!”

“Happy birthday, babygirl.”

“Oh, look at you, all grown up-”

It took everything in you to not drop the cup in your hand at the sound of your parents making their presence known. You backed into the kitchen again, your back finding a nearby wall to ground yourself with. Your chest began to tighten, a tight lump forming in your throat, and in that moment, your hand fished for your phone in your back pocket to text Shuri.

Kitchen. Now.

There was a light shake in your hands. You hated how just the mere sound of their voices sent you into a spiral; how much of an influence they still had on you after trying so hard to separate yourself from them. Then they had the nerve  to act pleasant.

There was a growing ringing in your ears, accompanied with the muffling of surrounding noise that made you breathe harder as you tried to stabilize yourself from the very apparent anxiety attack that was waiting to crash into you. You couldn’t decipher if it was the same one from before that you had fended off by sheer will, or if this was a new, more powerful one. However, when the smell of patchouli made its way to your nose, the thought of it became seconded.

“Hey,” Shuri whispered, one hand running the length of your arm, the other taking the cup from your hand that was seconds away from meeting the floor, and settling it onto the kitchen island, “hey, I am right here.”

“They’re out there, Shuri.” You breathe out.

Something shifts in Shuri’s eyes, and you can’t quite tell what it was, but the way her grip on you tightens in the ever so slightest way lets you know she’s thinking something.

“We can leave, beloved,” Shuri begins, but you’re quick to cut her off with a shake of your head.

“No,” you say, swallowing thickly, “I can’t leave, it’s Alex’s birthday-”

“Alex will understand, love; would she really want you to risk your own self for her?”

I’ve done it for years, the little girl in you voices tiredly, what’s another evening of it?

Shuri never wants to be forceful with you. She knows you’re your own woman and can make your own decisions, even if they go against her better judgment, even if they hurt you. Which is why, against every logical bone in her body, she proposes a compromise.

“Three chances,” Shuri says, “three chances is all they have. Then we will leave. How does that sound?”

Knowing Shuri, she’ll want to throw hands at the first encounter. It was endearing, really, how hard she went for you. The extent of such craze was never explored, simply because she was always calm, cool and collected. There was a part of you that always wondered  the extent of it as well.

And, in hindsight, you weren’t wrong about her.

Shuri peaks from the kitchen doorway and into the foyer, seeing Alex still entertaining the two adults, their backs turned towards the Queen, which gave her the incentive to leave while the trio were occupied.

She mutters a quick ‘let’s go’ with a gentle smile, and after a few seconds, you nod. Your hand finds her, tightly interlocking your fingers as Shuri pulls you back to the backyard gazebo. Shuri had no idea the depths she was about to breach in the layers of your estranged family, but whatever the case may be, she will not let you face it alone.

It was almost the perfect getaway, too, but apparently Shuri wasn’t fast enough in getting you out of the house. She heard the matured voice of your mother call out to you, asking if it was her other daughter, and Shuri supposed that it wasn’t meant to be taken in a demeaning way, but the queen certainly did. Perhaps it was predisposed biases, perhaps it was intentional. Either way, Shuri would make sure to take as much of the burden off you as she could.

“Mom,” you say, jaws tight, but Shuri stands close behind you, a hand on your waist, and it stabilizes you, “good to see you.”

The older woman, short in stature, with wide hips and thick arms, saw Shuri standing behind you, but whether or not she didn’t address her because she didn’t recognize the queen or because she simply didn’t care couldn’t be deciphered. “Come give me a hug-!”

“I’m good,” you hurriedly said, “just- uh, not feeling well.”

“Don’t be like that,” the deep, bolstering voice of your father chimed in; a large man with an intimidating physique. Shuri was not phased, her arm only snaked it’s way around your waist, “give your mama a hug, lil’ girl-”

“I said I’m good.” You reiterate more firmly, though there was an added incentive to clear your throat shortly afterwards to make your fib more believable. “Really; I know how easy it is for y’all to get sick.”

There was a moment of pause - and exchange of glances and a shift in energy before a light ‘humph’ came from your mother’s throat. “Well, I suppose that makes sense,” she snooted, “and I suppose that’s why your friend there is the exception-?”

“Girlfriend, actually,” Shuri interrupts, though it wasn’t planned, and surely wasn’t expected, “it is one of many perks of being the Black Panther. I do not succumb to normal colds and illnesses as easily.”

The pads of Shuri’s fingers press into your side as she steps beside you; she’s now side to side with you, face your parents with a high chin and a look you were sure she’d only pulled out when in front of important people - or people who she suspected would try to intimidate her, yet she’d still have to play nice for publicity purposes.

“Allow me to introduce myself formally,” Shuri said, holding out her hand for your mother to take; the shorter woman did just so as Shuri spoke again, “I am Queen Shuri to my people, but for tonight's festivities, I would like to remain just Shuri.”

“A queen?” Your mother breathes out in an amused chuckle, though you couldn’t tell if it was in actual amusement or in disbelief. “Well, perhaps we did do something right with her, hm, honey?”

Strike one.

Shuri’s hand then reaches out to your father, who stares at the long, brown arm outstretched before him for a moment, before taking one of his thick, meaty hands, and shaking Shuri’s tinier one. Though, the look on his face when the queen’s grip strengthened around his hand was enough to tell you his surprise and lack of proper judgment on the brown-skinned woman.

“Got a…firm grip for a lil’ lady.” He says.

“Well,” Shuri begins as she slips her hand from your fathers, “my baba and big brother always said a firm hand makes a firm leader.”

“Well, wise men they were.”

There was much to observe in the few words shared between Shuri and your parents. Your father hid very well behind the facade of a pleasant man of few words. Perhaps he was sculpted that way, by your mother or by his own parents; either one didn’t matter, only that the end result was a man with a weaker grip than the elders she held council with, and they were pushing their latter years of nineties and hundreds. Your parents looked to be in their mid-forties.

Your mother…Shuri admits that she wished her own were still alive, for the words she knew Ramonda would have for this short-stack of a woman would be more lethal than any weapon produced by her own hands. Condescension laced in her voice with a familiar tone of jealousy that she’d heard and witnessed many black mothers having towards their own daughters. It wasn’t hard to tell, Shuri thought, but perhaps when enough people ignore such a dangerous thing, the ugly nature becomes a tolerable norm.

“Well, if you will excuse us,” says the queen, “I’m going to take my beloved to sit down. She is in much need of rest.”

Shuri did not give your parents time to react, nor to object to the sudden ending to the conversation. She’d quickly pivoted your body around and walked back outside to the gazebo, a firm hand on your back and a ticking clock in her head for when the next strike would come.

Sure enough, Shuri did not have to wait long for that second strike. 

After getting you back to the gazebo to take a seat, on the verge of hyperventilating from the amount of anxiety the back and forth gave you, despite the fact that you weren’t even the one talking, Alex had come with a look of disdain. Your parents were in tow, as they claimed to want to ‘have a sit down and reconnect’. Of course, Shuri didn’t buy into that bullshit. Neither did Alex. And surely, neither did you.

And yet, neither you nor Alex yet had the courage to send them off, and Shuri, keeping herself in check, had no other choice but to allow them to sit with the three of you. So now you were tucked into Shuri’s side, phone in hand as a distraction, while Alex sat on a beige-cushioned chair to your left, and your parents in a similar-fashioned loveseat to the queen’s right.

Alex was kind enough to hide her discomfort in nervous laughs and meek agreements as your mother and father raved on about your childhoods. Specifically, the accomplishments of Alex, which would have been understandable as it was her birthday, if it didn’t have to include the ‘disappointments’ of yours they had to bring into the light.

“Remember the speech competition your grammar school had, Lexi-Pooh,” your mother chimed, using the youthful nickname Alex very physically cringed over, “you won your first ever trophy then at eight years old! Oh, we were so proud of you-”

“Mom, everyone got a trophy,” Alex reminded, putting emphasis on the word ‘everyone’ as she spared a glance your way, “we were babies, and it was a participation trophy. They just didn’t want us to be left out.”

“Well, still, my baby had the best poem on that stage!”

“Mom, I literally stole that poem off the internet.” Alex reasons.

“Yeah, off DeviantArt no less,” you speak with a chuckle, remembering the nights your sister scoured the internet for a poem to read because she, for the life of her, couldn’t write her own. Which she couldn’t be faulted for, she was in third grade after all.

Alex shares a small laugh as well. “If anyone should have won that competition, it should’ve been (Y/N),” She says. “All the teachers swore up and down she was gonna be the next Lorraine Hansberry or Audre Lorde. I bet you she got some bars hidden somewhere.”

Your mother could only hum in response; “Well, we can’t all be winners, I guess.”

There was a familiar sting that ached your heart. Despite how used you were to such rhetoric coming from your mother, it didn’t make the twang in your heart any less hurtful.

“You never liked that kinda stuff anyway, (Y/N),” your mother says, “so why did you join it-”

“I do like writing,” you say sharply, “and I wanted to be like my sister. Who doesn’t wanna be like their older sister at seven years old?”

You glanced up from your phone to look between the three people sitting before you. Alex shifts in her seat, uncomfortably, slightly shaking her head as she knows what is to come.

“Or were you just so busy with your perfect princess that you ain’t have time to learn me?”

“(Y/N)!” Your mother scolds, and you feel the protective arm of Shuri’s curl around you in defense. “Hush your mouth with them lies, girl!”

Your father remains silent, as he’s always done when your mother gets this way, and Shuri sees this, and takes note of it.

“I swear, I don’t know where we went wrong with you,” your mother huffs, “lost yo’ damn manners and mind talkin’ like that.”

Your mother then turns to Shuri, sporting an apologetic look, though it is not sincere, and merely a coverup for her own outburst. “Now I know your mother taught you well and good, Shuri, about how to talk to people and behave-”

“My mother is dead.” 

There is an inevitable shift in the conversation now, one that brings the eyes to Shuri as a deafening silence befalls the gazebo. Even you rise from your curled position into Shuri’s side to eye her demeanor, checking over her form to note any changes that came with the sudden mention of her mother. Yet, she is calm and collected, her eyes showing no shifts and her demeanor intact. All seemed well…on the surface, at least.

“My mother is dead, may she be at peace with the ancestors,” Shuri says, “and she is incomparable. I do not wish to speak further of her.”

A beat passes. Your hand travels to Shuri’s leg, providing a comforting touch to the woman beside you. You weren’t ignorant to the news of her family’s passing - since her father’s death, you’d had a semblance of understanding the inner turmoil she had endured. With her brother and mother gone, she was virtually alone - save for a sister-like figure and a nephew she’d only told you a little bit about in the past few months or so.

You wanted to say something, but your mother beat you to it - this time, she actually sounded somewhat apologetic for her ignorance.

“My condolences,” the woman mutters softly, clearing her throat, “I only meant that she must have had it easy raising you. You’re so well put together and polite, if only some of that would rub off on (Y/N)!”

Strike two.

“Mom, stop it,” Alex interrupts, voice firm with a scowl on her face, “you doin’ a lil’ too much now.” 

“Now, your mama ain’t said nun’ wrong,” your father suddenly speaks, who had been quite the entire conversation, but suddenly decided to stick up for his woman who was clearly in the wrong, “it’s just ladies spat, y’all know how y’all do.”

“And like I said before y’all got here, I don’t want it in my house.” Alex emphasizes. “If that’s the type of time y’all on, the door is very clearly marked with an obnoxiously pink birthday banner. Period.”

There was a small swell of pride in your chest for Alex as she set her foot down to your parents. She was determined to have them behave; she wanted a classy, friendly party for her birthday celebration. Though, she would know just as well as you that even when being put in place, the audacity of your parent’s always found itself back into trouble.

Your mother mumbled out an apology, along with something along the lines of ‘got me apologizing to my child’ under her breath as well, before you cleared your throat in an attempt to cut through the tension.

“Shuri, baby,” you hummed, “don’t we have something for Alex? In the car?”

Shuri turned to look at you, eyebrows slightly furrowed, before she officially caught on to what you were insinuating.

“Yes,” the queen breathes out with a small smile, “we do have something in the car. For the birthday girl.”

Alex, too, shares the same look Shuri previously sported, with furrowed eyebrows and confusion written on her face. “M-Me? Something for me?”

“Of course!” Shuri answers. “Surely you did not think we would show up empty handed?”

Shuri’s hand rests on your leg, both as a reminder of her very physical presence as a grounding for herself, “How foolish of me to forget. I do not know what I would do without you, my darling.”

Shuri stands, offering her hand to you as well, adding on how she will need your help to retrieve it, before escorting you from the gazebo. While on your way to exit the yard, Shuri can hear Alex giving your parents a further scolding, which makes the queen smile mischievously.

It wasn’t a complete lie for escape, however. Shuri was nice enough to buy a gift for your sister for her birthday, though it wasn’t anything massive, and despite your constant jokes of it, wasn’t a pair of kimoyo earrings (though, from Alex’s birthday outfit, she could tell that she was a jewelry girl, and a pair of earrings probably would have sufficed better).

“I’m starting to understand why you never told me about your parents,” Shuri says in a breathless scoff, pressing a button on her beads to pop open the trunk of her car, “infuriating doesn’t even begin to describe them.”

“Are you okay?” You ask in all seriousness. “The..comment about your mom, I mean.”

How could you be worried of her feelings when she’d just had to watch your mother berate you in front of her? Shuri wonders this as she turns from the open trunk of the car to face you again. Though, she supposes that from that interaction, you were more used to centering others and their emotions than yourself. Although it caused an ache in her heart, the revelation made sense of previous actions between the two of you.

“What I said was true,” the queen replies, “though I admit, perhaps there was a bite in my tongue.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t curse her out.”

“Well…I do have a promise to keep to Alex.” Shuri says in a soft laugh. “I do not want to be the cause of her birthday being ruined. Your parents are making it fairly hard to do that, however.”

Shuri closes the trunk of the car, the tiny bag holding Alex’s gift inside being set on top of it as the queen leans against the sleek black vehicle. She invites you into her embrace, pulling you between her legs and resting her hands on your hips; yours make their way onto her shoulders, a weak smile on your face.

“That’s two strikes by my count.”

“I know.”

“We have yet to even make it to dinner.”

“I know.”

“What do you want to do, beloved?”

I don’t know anymore, you think, this is all just too much.

“Let’s…stay.”

Part of you was reluctant to leave due to wanting to experience your sister’s birthday with her. You’d all but promised that you’d come to enjoy yourself with Shuri, even if your parents made that hard. But there was also an inkling of pettiness inside of you that wanted to show the assholes your parents were to the rest of your family members (who, while had suspicions of their weird behaviors and holier-than-thou rhetoric, would rather not engage in family drama to keep peace amongst the ranks). 

“I’m not letting them get the better of me,” you add on, “today is for Alex. And if they wanna make it a problem, it can be a problem.”

The look on Shuri’s face was a mix of shock and pride; she hadn’t expected you to say that, and if she were being honest with herself, she was secretly anticipating such a moment to occur. Perhaps because it would give her a chance to release the pent up frustrations that had collected within her due to your parents actions; perhaps it was because seeing you stand your ground had always been an attractive sight to her. Regardless, the small smile that spread across her face was a reflection of her hopefulness.

“One more chance, then?”

“Hopefully they make it count.”

Shuri remembers how she used to dislike family dinners.

The prospect of eating with her family irked her at a young age. Though she loved her parents and her brother dearly, her teenage self was far too absorbed in her technological advances to actively partake in the family tradition. She’d taken such a routine for granted, and now, the dinner table in the large palace she called home was barren. She barely ate there anymore, consumed by the regret of not making such precious moments a priority in her youth.

As she sits next to you at the elongated party table with the rest of your family members, she notes the same air of barrenness, but not of presence of people. It is a barrenness of love.

The behavior of certain family members began to change as the night progressed. Despite the lingering glares of your family members, many aunts and uncles approached you again, expressing their joy in seeing your presence. Perhaps it was truly the guilt that you mentioned earlier, how these extended family members were subject to the bystander syndrome, and hadn’t known how to deal with their guilty consciences for whatever reason. Perhaps these people did genuinely want to reconnect with their long lost niece, cousin, auntie. Shuri would never admit it aloud to anyone, but seeing the look of distaste upon your parents face was entertaining to say the least.

“So do you drive a space ship everywhere you go?” One of your many nephews asked the queen out of curiosity, big brown eyes and white bucked-teeth shining with glee, as he’d never seen anyone of her status before.

“Not everywhere,” Shuri answers, “only the far away places.”

“Do you go to other planets? Like Mars? Or Pluto?”

“Hmm,” the queen thinks, “I don’t think I have. I shall put that on my books and tell you about it upon my return. How does that sound, little one?”

“Awesome!”

Seeing Shuri interact with the younger children eased your tense body and racing mind. She was almost a natural with them, it seemed. You leaned into her side, your cheek squishing against her shoulder with a playful huff. “Can I have my girlfriend back, please? You’ve been askin’ her questions since we got to the table.”

“Nu-uh!” Objects the little boy. “Have not!”

“Have too, lil’ boy,” you reject, “now gon’ eat so your mama don’t yell at you.”

“Can we talk about spaceships after dinner then, Auntie Shuri?”

Shuri wasn’t sure if she should adhere to the new term, having only known the child for an hour or so, but to entertain him, she allowed it. “Sure. We can talk about spaceships after dinner.”

Thankfully, the young boy seemed to be satisfied with the compromise, and began to eat his plate of food. Shuri turns to you with an amused grin, eyebrows raised as she asks “Were you jealous of your own nephew?”

“I can be jealous if I want to,” you pout, bottom lip tucked out in protest, “lil’ shit was taking you away from me.”

Shuri laughs at your banter, both glad that you’ve somewhat relaxed, and that the evening seemed to be going well. She hoped that it would stay like this.

The clinking of metal to glass caught her attention, as well as the other partygoers. Looking towards the head of the table, Alex is standing, grasping the attention of everyone in order to speak.

“Now, we all know the reason today is such an important day, aside from the fact that it’s my birthday,” Alex begins, glancing around the table, making eye contact with each individual, “though some of the kids might not know. And since we have a newcomer with us,” she says, gesturing to Shuri, who returns a nod of acknowledgement as she speaks, “I figured now is as good of a time to talk about why we celebrate the twenty-fifth birthday of the girls in our family.”

Alex sets the glass down, clears her throat, and speaks again. “Now the story has never been written down, but anyone who has sat between Nana and Great Nana’s legs to get their hair done will know the story by heart. A generation or so before them, our family had a ‘curse’ on us girls. One of our enslaved ancestors was forced to ‘engage’ with their owner who desired a mixed child. That ancestor cursed our bloodline so that no girls would survive, and slowly our numbers began to dwindle.”

You always loved to hear this story. You were never sure why, but it had always been more than hair braiding entertainment to keep a child's attention. The raw history that your grandmother and great-grandmother passed down your line of lineage always held a special place in your heart.

“Then one thing lead to another, a generation passes, and a girl is born…and she lives old enough to run away with another slave guy she fell in love with. And that ancestor had Great Nana, who had Nana, who had mom and the aunties…who had us.”

You’d been sitting to Alex’s right when she extended her hand to you to hold. You accepted it with a warm smile. She’d done the same to your mother as well.

“Reaching twenty-five is like a right of passage. Guarantees to a long, fulfilling life. And that is what we celebrate tonight.”

There were a series of claps, cheers, whoops and hollers that erupted from the table, coming from the queen herself as well. It was indeed a remarkable retelling, she thought, and she even noticed the way that Alex posed herself as a bridge between you and your mother. She applauded the woman for still trying to reconcile, but knew that there was no hope for such a feat.

As soon as Alex sat down, your mother took a stand. “I’d like to make a toast as well.”

Shuri felt you lean just a little bit closer to her. 

“My baby, oh, what can I even say?” Your mother begins, striking up a face of pride. “You were perfect since the day I first laid eyes on you. I knew you’d be destined for greatness, and I can’t be any more proud of you than I am now. My baby girl is all grown up, and I can’t wait to see more of the outstanding woman you’ve become…”

Another round of applause echoes throughout the backyard, and Shuri breathes. Though she doesn’t trust your mother one bit, the words that came from her mouth seemed very genuine-

“...and you are more than fit to carry on this tradition. My only daughter that can.”

-nevermind.

The distant crickets could be heard as your mother took her seat again, seemingly proud of her little stunt. Perhaps she thought it was something good to say, but neither you, Alex, or Shuri saw the need for the ending.

“That ending wasn’t needed, but thank you.” Alex says through gritted teeth, a sigh leaving her lips. It was much like the older woman to need the last word, and although Alex truly hoped she would behave, her own patience was waning thin with the woman and her antics.

“We have a toast as well!”

Shuri whips her head to you, brows furrowed in confusion as she whispers, “We do?”

The words leave your lips before you can actually think about what you’re about to do. Upstaging your mother had never been something you’d acted upon, although you’d fantasized about shutting her up numerous times with your own words; the courage was just never there. Perhaps it was because now you were older, or perhaps it was because you now knew that Alex was on your side, or perhaps it was because you had Shuri next to you to back you up. Whatever it was, it began surging through your veins that once were riddled and crippled with anxiety.

Nonetheless, you’re standing up, and so is Shuri, so there isn’t any backing down now. All eyes were on you.

“Sister,” you begin, reaching your hand out Alex who stands up again to be eye level with you, “I will make this quick, ‘cuz you know I hate sappy shit.”

Alex laughs a little. Her grip on your hands is comforting, and the way she looks at you is almost in a coaching matter. She hadn’t expected such a burst of confidence either, but wasn’t about to let you face it alone.

“We’ve had our…ups and down,” you say, “and there were ‘things’ happening that I blamed you for, that I pushed you away for. But you’ve always been there. You were..the only person there.”

You feel Shuri’s hand caress the small of your back for support. You feel like crying, and you're not sure the reason for it, but you push it down and continue.

“I am grateful for you, and I’m glad I came to celebrate with you…and I love you.”

The air that was once thick when you started to speak seemed to ease when you said those last three words. And again, claps and praises flew out into the air at the confession. Alex, the much more sappier of one of the two of you, tried to keep her eyes from swelling with tears, but of course it was harder for her to do so.

“Don’t you start crying,” you say playfully through the loudness of the table, “‘cus you know if you do, then I’ma start crying, and we just gon’ be two snotty nosed bitches-”

Yet you didn’t get the chance to finish, because Alex then pulls you into her embrace. It’s tight and full of love, and she gives you no choice but to sink into it. For a second, it seems like the noise drowns out as you bask in the love from your sister, and you hear a faint ‘thank you’ being whispered into your ear right as she pulls away.

“I suppose this means it is my turn,” Shuri says sheepishly, once the embrace has finished and you’ve returned right at her side. She’d been thinking of what to day this entire time, though each scenario that she had run through her head didn’t seem worthy of a quality toast to a quality woman, “I shall try to make this toast worthy of your time, Miss Birthday Girl.”

“Sitting at this table, surrounded by all of you; it reminds me of a similar family routine that I took for granted in my youth.” Shuri’s eyes gaze from person to person as she speaks. “You see, I was too absorbed in my technological advances to truly appreciate the aspects of family dinners. The mundaneness of sitting with one another and being present. I used to want to give anything to be left to my own devices. And now, I sit at the head of the same table, with no one. I am Queen of the most powerful nation in the world, and my entire family is gone.”

Another silence fills the table as everyone looks onto Shuri; her head is held high as she speaks, though, voice unwavering. She breathes when she feels your hand slip into hers.

“Alex, you are a very blessed woman to have your family here with you to celebrate a generational obstacle overcome,” the queen bids, “and for that, I propose a toast to you, and a saying from my people to yours.”

The queen picks up her red cup, and watches as each individual picks up their own, before speaking again. “To Alex, a woman of virtue and genuity. ‘Akukho mntu ngaphandle kwesidenge ophika usapho lwakhe’.”

A round of cheers sounds before everyone downs a gulp of their chosen drinks in unison, applauding Shuri for her heartfelt toast and gratitude. As the both of you sit, and light chatter begins to cover the table, your mother calls out to Shuri with a look of curiosity.

“Such a lovely quote, Shuri,” your mother says, “what does it mean?”

“Oh, the proverb,” Shuri says, “it is one my baba used to say.”

“Did he now?”

“It means ‘No one but a fool denies their family’.”

Hearing this, your gaze shifts from the food in front of you to Shuri, who sports a proud smirk as she watches your mother grow uncomfortable in her seat from the queen’s words. As if she were putting the dots together in her own head.

With Dinner done, your nephew was all too quick to pull the queen aside to continue their conversation about her fancy spaceships. While his eagerness was endearing, Shuri had to put the conversation on hold because of an important phone call that came through. You assumed that it was Ayo, a name you had heard in fleeting conversations, but knew it to be a person of importance to Shuri. A captain of her Queen’s Guard, which Shuri had respectfully asked to fall back on attending the outing with the both of you, since it was a family thing, and Shuri didn’t want Alex’s neighbors questioning why so many bald-headed women were lingering around her house.

She said she would make the call quick, five minutes at most, before stepping into the house for quiet and privacy. The loss of her presence made you slightly anxious, but you maintained your spot in the gazebo, and Alex popped in here and there. She was the host, so she had to engage with the rest of her partygoers, but you were more than grateful that she took the time out to still check in on you, despite it being her day.

You took a sip of your drink - the adult punch that had been put in the kitchen so kids couldn’t get to it - and watched the party goers enjoy themselves from the comfort of your seat. Children running around, chasing each other with sparklers; aunties and uncles dancing to the old school remix; teens making TikTok videos with dances and skits. For a moment, things were content, and everyone was happy. Normal.

For a moment, for the first time in a long time, you felt happy with your family. 

“You’ve found this corner real comfortable, I see.”

The voice of your mother slips through he peaceful silence that previously covered the gazebo, and although you don’t feel it at first, your body begins to tense. She herself sports a red solo cup, though you can’t tell what’s inside of it. 

She doesn’t ask to join you - just takes up a single seat across from you - and even if she were to ask, you aren’t sure if you could even mutter an answer.

“It’s been so long since you’ve left,” your mother says, “since you decided you were grown enough and left your family behind. How has life been for you?”

“Good.” You reply, short and curt, taking a sip from your drink.

“You seem more than good,” she continues, “I assume living with a queen gives you a lot of financial relief-”

“If you came over here to start shit, please don’t.” You quickly cut off. “One; my relationship is of no concern to you, but Shuri doesn’t pay for shit of mine that I have. I was good before I met her, and I’m still going good on my own.”

You weren’t sure where the sudden crossness came from, but you definitely knew it had something to do with your mother’s constant mention of Shuri, as if she held prominent importance tonight and not the other child she’d birthed. “And it’s Alex’s birthday. I’m here for her.”

Your mother scoffs at your words, “-and there you go, twistin’ my words around and making me seem like the enemy. I’m just trying to talk to you!”

“Bullshit,” you spit, rising from your seat in a quick bid to find a quick exit into an area more populated, and more importantly, away from her, “I’m not doing this with you.”

You turn to try and leave, but your mother continues to speak behind you, pushing you further, “you’re so ungrateful; after everything we’ve done for you, you can’t even show an ounce of respect to your own mother.”

In that moment your body froze on the steps of the gazebo. A dull chill awakens within you, spreading through your limbs, your skin nearly rising into goosebumps, before a wave of anger crashes in.

“Fine,” you mutter, “you wanna ‘talk’?”

You turn to face your mother once again, eyes burning holes into her face, which has the audacity to hold a look of shock. “Let’s fucking talk.”

“Oh, but where to begin?” You scoff. “Maybe lets talk about how you can’t seem to ever say one good thing about me. It’s always some backhanded comment that you can’t help to point out how amazing Alex was and how shitty I was in comparison-”

“-that is not true,” your mother tries to interject, “but you were - and still are - a difficult child-”

“-I wasn’t fucking difficult!” You shout, drawing a few pairs of eyes to you and your mother. “I wanted fucking attention that you weren’t giving me! And you thought beating me was the best way to get me to ‘stop acting out’?”

“It was discipline!”

“Oh, but Alex never needed it though, right?” You question. “Alex was just so perfect to yall. She got the best of everything while your little mistake became the punching bag you took your frustrations out on!”

The increasing shouting started to draw attention from the other partygoers, who muttered among themselves, wondering the reason for the altercation, questioning if they should intervene. And it only got worse when the sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the backyard, making the music that played from outdoor speakers seem quiet.

Your mother, the pious, religious, righteous woman she claimed to be, just slapped you in front of the rest of your family.

“What’s going on over here?” The voice of your father bellows as he approaches the gazebo, having only made his presence known after a few gasps from seeing your mother hit you.

“I will not be disrespected by you, you ungrateful wench,” your mother seethes, “I was a damn good mother to you, even when we fell on hard times. I raised you!”

“I was a fucking kid!” You yell back. “How does a fucking adult take their anger out on their own kid!?”

“And you,” comes your voice through gritted teeth upon seeing your father coming to console your mother, which seemed to anger you even more, “dear old dad, who never ‘picked a side’. You sat there and watched as she fucked up her own kid.”

Your voice comes out more strained, wavering at the sight of your father. The man you saw treat Alex like a literal princess while you could only ever dream of being treated as such. You knew the next words you’d say were going to push his buttons - perhaps part of you wanted a reaction from him that could show that maybe, somewhere inside of him, he cared when your mother didn’t.

“If anything you’re more of a bitch than her!”

You weren’t sure what scared you more in that moment; the loud grunt and your fathers arms menacingly reaching out towards you, or the flash of black that shot across your vision right before you closed your eyes shut, anticipating something to happen.

The silence was deafening as you felt your legs stumble back into something warm but you were too scared to open your eyes yet. Of all your senses that had been stricken with tension, the first to register with reality once again was your hearing.

“I want you to think carefully about your next actions,” the queen’s voice comes out hardened and unyielding, “because I can assure you, I will not have to think about mine.”

That flash of black that had crossed your vision earlier had been Shuri. And if your eyes had been open, you yourself would have shuddered at the pure rage that was present on her face.

Shuri’s hand, albeit tiny and delicate in most cases, held your father’s wrist in a right grasp, and despite the broader man's struggles to pull free, it was futile. She was not letting him go, and neither was the intensity of her stare that held your mother’s gaze. 

“If you don’t let my husband go-”

“Shut. Up.” And her words were absolute, leaving no room for question. Perhaps it was part of the authoritarian aura that she’d gained from taking on her queenship that shut your mother up, but whatever the case may have been, Shuri admits that she certainly enjoyed the look of surprise on your mother’s face.

“Alex,” Shuri says, and it now becomes clear to you that the thing you had back into was your very sister. It also became clear how tight her grip on you was, as if she were scared to let you go, “take my beloved back to my car. We will be leaving shortly.”

There’s a gentle nudge and a hushed ‘c’mon’ before you feel yourself being moved sideways, then forward, Alex doing as Shuri says and relocating you to the front of her home to get you into a safer, calmer place.

It isn’t until Shuri sees your figure disappear behind the wooden fence that she releases your father’s wrist. The man winces as he regains control of his limb, his wife bringing her hands to soothe the skin where it was beginning to turn purple from just how tight her grasp was.

Shuri turns in a slow circle, eyes scanning each and every one of the individuals who’d stood by and undoubtedly watched the scene unfold, offering no sign of intervention. “This is what your family is?” She calls out. “It is sickening.”

The guilt shines in their eyes but Shuri has none of it. To her, they are all just as guilty as your parents, for they've watched the same scene unfold many times before, and just the same, no one stood up.

The queen turns back to your parents, as she bites the inside of her cheek to control her composure. “I do not know your story,” she says, “nor do I wish to, and now, nor do I care. I only leave you with this as I leave.”

Shuri takes a step forward to your parents, jaw clenched tight and piercing eyes meeting theirs once again. “My (Y/N) will be loved…as it is clearly something neither of you could bestow upon her.”

And in the same flash of black she leaves the party, that had long gone silent, and biting her tongue so hard she thought she’d draw blood.

Exitting the back yard, Shuri comes around the front to see you and Alex sitting on the porch steps. She holds a towel to your cheek, whispering to you with care about holding the cold, wet cloth gently on your cheek to battle the inflammation. It was the first and only thing she could grab without immediately leaving your side, the green garden hose still running into the grass proof of it.

It takes everything in Shuri not to run to you, to pull you into her arms and cradle you into her embrace, to shield you from the cruelness that has surely been brought back to the forefront of your mind. There’s a pit in her stomach that churns with the pain of unease, and it eats at her as she thinks; if she had just been swifter with that call with Ayo, or better yet, not even answered at all, then you wouldn’t have been left alone, and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Shuri grows closer and realizes that the both of you are crying, and her heart tightens in her chest. She bends down to meet you on eye level, resting a soothing hand on your leg. Alex holds her head in one hand, her other still grasped tightly onto your side, holding you close to her. Shuri finally understands what Alex meant when she talked about the varying levels of harm done to the sisters in their youth. You took the physical and verbal brunt, while Alex took the emotional.

“This was not suppose to happen.” Shuri hears Alex mutter, and the queen quickly cuts in before Alex has a chance to even say as such.

“It is not your fault, Alex,” the queen asserts, “you cannot be responsible for the actions of your parents.”

Alex looks up to Shuri, sniffling as their eyes connect. A beat passes before the older sister nods, though her jaw is still tight with tension. There’s a shift in Alex’s eyes, from sadness and regret, to a hardened security.

“I need to get my house in order,” she says, glancing to her side, and reluctantly peeling her arm from around your waist, “party’s officially over.”

Alex stands to do just as she intends, and as she leaves, Shuri grows closer to you. One hand rubs circles into your knee, the other one gently lifts your face up to meet hers. Your eyes are tired, likely due to adrenaline fatigue, but your body still shakes with a light tremble.

“I am taking you home.” She says, leaving no room for argument; even though, in your current state, you couldn’t refuse her if you wanted to. So when Shuri wraps her arms around you and lifts you to your feet, you all but lean into her warmth. 

And the kiss she presses into the crown of your head provides reassurance that even after the events that have unfolded, with Shuri, you will be okay.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[chaoticbardlady99]

She's My Religion (Part 1: She's Cold, She's Dark, She's Cynical) Astarion x F! Reader

   Hello! I have been plagued with an idea! Enjoy! This will probably be a four part story, but I am not sure just yet!

Title from song “She’s My Religion” by Pale Waves

CW: Parental death, grief, murder, domestic violence, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of emotional abuse.

Synopsis- You are a paladin under the Oath of Vengeance. You escaped the noble life that was unwillingly thrust upon you. Now, on your way to kill your evil step-father while trying to find a solution for the parasite in your head- you find out he’s promised your hand in marriage to Lord Cazador Szarr and that he’s taken your mom’s life. Looking for some comfort- you go to Astarion, but you don’t hear the words you were hoping for.

*Gif does not belong to me- could not find original owner

Karlach whoops and cheers as she releases you from a rib crushing hug- Wyll and Gale are grinning from ear to ear. You are all elated for her that Dammon was able to figure out how to cool down her engine- even if temporarily.

  You know that she doesn’t want to hear about the future and the harm not going back to Avernus will cause so you don’t say anything while Wyll tries to lecture her. You are barely listening as the two of them go back and forth, but when Wyll glances back at you with a look that screams, “Can you please help me out over here?”

  You chuckle at your close friend’s distress and shake your head at him. Wyll adores Karlach- you know he would give her his own heart if he could. He just needs to let her come to her own decision- you’d like to think that Karlach might decide to go back until they can come up with a permanent solution. However, at the end of the day, it’s Karlach’s decision. You are just as unhappy with the impending doom your bubbly companion is facing, but that is not your weight to carry.

  “Unfortunately Wyll, I am going to support whatever Karlach wants to do for as long as I can emotionally tolerate it,” you give Karlach a playful punch in the arm, “you’re not allowed to die on me, ya know?”

  Karlach rolls her eyes and smiles- pulling you in for an awkward walking side hug.

 “Don’t worry Soldier- I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

    You all begin to head back to camp from Last Light Inn when Jaheira calls you from afar, waving you over. You look at your companions and they look back at you- equally as confused. You tell them that you will catch up with them in a little bit and they leave you there alone. Cautiously, you walk towards her- she did just threaten to kill you not even 72 hours ago and what an eventful 72 hours it has been. 

  You killed a devil, almost died killing that Devil, found out Astarion’s life is in far more danger than initially thought, watched Astarion convince a weird man to drink himself to death, watched an even weirder man be inhabited by a dead lady, fought shadows, and now, Karlach can hug people. 

  Life could not be any weirder, but you gladly welcome it over the mansion you had been trapped in after your mother married your step-father. The day you escaped from there had been bliss- despite how much you miss your mother. Your mother had been of noble human blood before she met your father (an elf). After one late night tryst and falling pregnant, her title had fallen significantly. She married your father and you had all lived happily together in Baldur’s Gate. You grew up poor, but Duke Ravenguard always tried to make sure you and your family had been taken care of. You grew up with Wyll Ravenguard and you have been tight knit friends almost your whole lives. 

  Until you were 14.

  Count Bridril Von, a high Sorcerer, had not forgotten your mother nor her breaking her promise to marry him by becoming pregnant by another. After your father died, he found your mother and enchanted her to become a mindless puppet. She would break occasionally, but ultimately you were left to fend for yourself against your 9 step-siblings (5 girls, 4 boys) and Bridril Von- who enjoyed taking out all his anger and hatred for your father on you. The only times he would claim you as one of his own would be when you had competed in various competitions and won- outranking his sons. The publicity he got from having a little sharp shooter and for “raising his darling step-daughter after she so horribly lost her hero father” was incredible. You became a show pony- a pretty, malleable little thing that was forced to perform and excel so that she could be treated with basic respect.

 The minute you were able to escape the Mansion from the Hells, you ran to the docks, bought a ticket to Silverymoon, took an Oath of Vengeance, and now you are here with an illithid parasite in your head. At first you had thought you were the unluckiest person in the world when you were kidnapped by a mind flayer, but your companions have quickly made the whole journey worthwhile- Astarion especially.

  You had met him before in your previous life as a troublemaking bastard and you had had conversations before- nothing too crazy nor serious, just quips and flirting back and forth. Astarion had been at the mansion frequently or you at the palace because your oldest step-sister, Daisy Von, is (was?) due to marry Lord Cazador Szarr. It was no secret to anyone, not even Daisy, that Cazador wants to marry you due to your likeness of a long lost love of his, but you are not of royal blood. Cazador would lose his alliance with Bridril if he married his boorish, rebellious, and unwanted step-daughter- despite your many achievements. You were grateful. You didn’t want to marry the man and Daisy was foolishly smitten- she could have him for all you care. That was your mentality before you knew he was a Master Vampire.

  Your family and Astarion’s ‘family’ spent a lot of time together. Astarion had become your escort around the palace grounds because Bridril did not want you to take the spotlight away from Daisy. 

 Originally, it had been Pale Petras, but you had unceremoniously kicked him in the balls after he had said something rather unbecoming towards you and had to be physically dragged away by Leon before he tried to kill you or worse. Astarion had immediately taken a liking to you for that alone. 

  When you had stumbled upon each other at the beach after the Nautiloid crash, it had been a little over two years since you had last seen each other. Without the watchful eyes of Cazador, your friendship and romantic relationship has blossomed. 

   You had been weary at first, worried that he was just getting close to you because he knew how much it would piss off Cazador if Astarion were to be with the one person Cazador could not have. Now, you are about 95 percent sure that isn’t the case, but you remain alert- just in case. 

  You are used to being used for an upperhand in the world and you hope everyday that you are more than an advantage against Cazador to him because he truly means everything to you. 

  Which is maybe why you are quite agitated with Jaheira taking precious minutes away from you that could be spent with your love. You offer her a smile as she holds out a letter.

 “A letter? For me? Oh Jaheira, you shouldn’t have!”

   Jaheira hides her amusement behind a scowl, “it came through here magically. Rolan was able to calm down the little portal it came flying through- I suggest waiting until you reach Baldur’s Gate to be sending and receiving mail.”

   You apologize and walk towards camp, opening and reading the contents in the letter. The letter rips open your entire body and it feels like the ground is going to cave in. You read and reread the letter multiple times- standing between the edge of Last Light Inn and the edge of Camp, not even 5 feet away. 

  Tav,

  My name is Mary, I was your mother’s lady in waiting. You were always so busy that we never got the opportunity to meet. I am sorry to tell you that I only have bad news.

 The Count had received an offer from Lord Cazador Szarr two weeks ago regarding marrying you that he is not going to refuse- initially he was, but then you continued to not come home and he became bitter. 

  Cazador expressed urgency regarding getting you back to Baldur’s Gate. Bridril has hired mercenaries to hunt for you.

  Bridril killed your mother- the whispers in the castle say it was not an easy or quick death. My understanding is that you took an Oath of Vengeance so I hope Bridril is on your list. Your mother was the kindest woman I have ever had the privilege of meeting.

   I know she would want you to know that she loves you, is proud of you, is watching out for you, and knows you are off to do great things. 

  Keep vigilant and may Selune bless your path.

  -Mary

     No. This isn't happening to you. You are only days- maybe even a week or two away from going back home, killing Bridril, and freeing your mother. You were going to be a family again. You wanted to introduce her to your companions and buy a nice little home to live in with her like you used to when you were little. You were going to tell her all about your adventures, your time on the Pirate ship that took you to Silverymoon, your life there as a Paladin, and his whole fucking excursion.

   She’s gone and the wail that threatens to crack open your chest is suffocating. You quickly walk to Astarion’s tent, where you have been sleeping most nights, and he’s not there. Of all the times you really need him to not be doing anything and yet! You shove the letter back in the envelope and absentmindedly throw it to another part of the tent- not looking and not caring. Your grief feels like it may kill you and you just need to be held- to know and feel like you aren’t completely alone in the world right now. 

    After a brief chat with Halsin, you discover Astarion is hanging out with Shadowheart behind her tent. You make haste that way- hoping they won’t be too mad that you are interrupting their wine and gossip time. You had gotten back earlier than anticipated and in other circumstances you might wait until he is done, but you aren’t in your right mind. 

  You approach the tent and hear them talking on the other side, facing the forest, and sitting on a log. The tears begin to manifest in your eyes as relief floods you- you are so close to feeling okay again.

  “How bloody hard is it to nicely, lovingly tell someone that you’ve been deceiving them this whole time?”

  You stop dead in your tracks. 

  No. 

  “Look, there is no good way to say it,” Shadowheart says, “you just need to own up to it and then be honest about all of it.” 

 “Oh yes because ‘I planned on seducing you, sleeping with you, and manipulating you from the start’ is such a great opener,” Astarion scoffs, “there has to be some other way to make it flow with the rest of it. A better way to tell her.”

  “No need,” you speak up miserably, coming around the corner, “you just did. Wasn’t that hard was it?”

  Astarion and Shadowheart look absolutely shell shocked to see you standing there. Astarion looks like he’s about to throw up as he gets up and looks at you softly, a pleading, panicked look in his eyes.

  “Darling!” he says, getting up, laughing nervously“you’re back early. I- can we-”

  “Whatever we are,” you say with a glare, tears now pouring and with as much hatred in your voice as you can muster, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.” 

  Astarion’s entire face falls while he’s staring at you and he looks like he might cry, he opens his mouth, “Darling, pl-”

   Shadowheart looks like she is about to speak up for him too, but you are far too angry, far too hurt- far too lonely right now in the world to let yourself be tricked into staying with him. They are best friends, she’s probably in on it too. 

 “No! I hate you so much!,” the venom in your voice being watered down by your anguish, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

   You spin around on your heels, race over to your tent, and tie the flaps tightly shut. You slump to the ground and just sob- grabbing your mother’s old blanket that you had stolen before you left. You scream into it silently and all the pain in your body is threatening to make you burst apart at the seams. You wouldn’t be surprised if you did. 

  In less than an hour you have lost your mother, Astarion, and potentially your freedom. Astarion had used you to get one up on Cazador and he succeeded. Now that he knows what Cazador’s ritual is- he’s decided he’s done with you and every step you make has to be done cautiously because one slip up and you are going to be the consort to a fucking Master Vampire after fighting to avoid this for so long. All because Astarion just had to poke the bear. 

Astarion signed your fate using your blood as ink.

   Your throat is raw and your head is pounding by the time your lungs feel like they know how to properly breathe again. You hear someone knock on one of the wooden beams of your tent and you scoff.

  “It’s just me Tav,” Wyll says softly, “can I come in.”

     You get up and untie the tent flaps numbly. You look at Wyll, eyes puffy and red- your face streaked with tears. As Wyll walks into your tent, you get a glimpse of Astarion looking crestfallen as you invite Wyll in. You just scrunch your nose up in disgust at him before closing your tent. 

    Wyll is sitting down on your bedroll and you sit down right next to him- both of you looking at the ground. Wyll gently puts his hand on top of yours and smiles at you with his signature gentle, I’m here, grin.

 “My mom’s dead, Wyll.”

  “What?” 

 “Bridril killed her. She had snapped out of whatever hold he had on her when he agreed to marry me off to Cazador,” you choke out between sobs, “he killed her for trying to protect me. Now? I am officially going to be married off to a Master Vampire the minute I step foot in Baldur’s Gate if Bridril has his way.”

  “Oh Tav…”

 “And then! To make matters even worse?,” you look at him with disbelief and your voice sounds borderline hysterical now, “I overheard Astarion and Shadowheart prepping his ‘I’ve been using you this whole time and I’m ready to break-up’ speech. He was trying to figure out how to be nice about it.”

  Wyll stares at you with bewilderment. He is absolutely silent as you break down sobbing again, but he pulls you into him and you put your head on his shoulder.

  “I fe-feel so alone,” you manage to say coherently, “and so frightened.” 

  “I know you do my dear friend,” Wyll strokes your hair as make a mess of his shirt, “but you have Karlach, Gale, Lae’zel, Halsin, Scratch, and even an Owlbear Cub for Gods sake!”

  You smile at the emphasis on your rather dangerous furry friend. Wyll had asked what you were going to do with him when you got back to Baldur’s Gate and when you didn’t have a plan- both of you were a little horrified. You both decided to send it to Daisy as an engagement present once it’s big enough to stomp on Cazador and Daisy mid-wedding.

  “And besides,” Wyll says, “you’re my closest friend. I won’t allow you to be alone nor face this alone. I’m probably the best monster hunter you know.”

 “You are also the only monster hunter I know.”

  Wyll rolls his eyes and smiles brightly at you, “That’s besides the point, but I am going to let you sleep. You look like you need it.” 

   Wyll places a soft kiss on your forehead before he leaves your tent.

  “Thank you Wyll.”

    He turns around and smiles, “Any time Tav.”

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