#hi everyone this is my latest poem!!

[hairtusk]

Hole Theory, Thomasin Frances (15/10/2022)

#hi everyone this is my latest poem!! #i feel....very unsure about it #like #i'm not sure if it actually works as a poem #so any feedback / criticism / advice would be greatly appreciated !! #please please let me know what you think #mine #my poetry

[whathorselegs]

I think the main part of my Chuuya overworks himself and is a chronic people pleaser headcanon comes from the fact actual Nakahara Chuuya's poem 'The Village Clock' is imprinted on my brain.

'The big village clock was working day and night. The clockface's paint had already lost it's shine. When I drew near, there were lots of tiny cracks.'

Not the full poem, but the lines that really stick for me. This is just Chuuya to me. Keeping going, keeping working, not smiling as much as he used to. Keeping up appearances. Keeping even his friends at a distance so they don't see he's not as happy as he used to be.

I agree in the latest chapters Chuuya looks tired as hell, but his eyes have always read as tired to me. He's always looked like he needed a nap (It took a moment to find a mostly neutral expression in his introduction because, well, the Dazai effect). The straight across upper eyelids and the rounded lower eyelids just scream "I'm too tired for this" to me

It's quotes from the Mayoi 'Joyous night' cards.

Kouyou: "Chuuya are you saying you can't have what I'm drinking? There's no need to worry so long as you drink in moderation. Surely you can afford a glass at a banquet." Chuuya: "What are you drinking Ane-san? Wine, is it? Interesting... No, I couldn't. I'm you're escort. If something were to happen while I was drunk, well... *sigh* Alright, maybe just a glass. This is a banquet, after all."

Like, yes, I'm fairly certain these are in reference to Chuuya being a lightweight and not wanting to get drunk at a fancy party. But it's also Chuuya not allowing himself to have fun. Kouyou realistically doesn't need escort, Chuuya was likely asked along because she enjoys his company.

It's wine. He collects wine and he won't even allow himself to indulge in his own interests because he's too busy unnecessarily worrying about Kouyou and how people will perceive him at the banquet.

It's the fact despite there being several high ranking mafia members introduced by the time of the three way conflict, Mori always uses Chuuya for his plans. There's really no need for an executive to be the one to check up on the hired assassins, or deliver information to the ADA.

Chuuya even remarks upon it himself, saying he didn't think himself fit for the role of envoy. But he does it because the boss ordered him to. He won't say no.

I don't think Chuuya is the same type of overworker Kunikida is. Kunikida has to have everything done right, he needs it done on time. He has a set of meticulous rules and practices to ensure it gets done correctly.

I doubt Chuuya is the type to be worried over his reports being perfect or "in on time" because he's part of the mafia. This isn't a day job. Sure, there probably deadlines where stuff is time sensitive, but again, Chuuya is an executive. He can delegate such work to subordinates if needs be. I definitely don't think he's above coasting his work and putting in minimum effort as long as the job gets done.

I think Chuuya is an over worker in the sense, that even if he's exhausted, even if he wants to go home and collapse, if Mori handed him another job, he'd do it. He has a hard time saying no to people and it carries over into his work.

And he has difficulty shutting off work mode once he's home. "Might as well sort those emails while I have some spare time" Turns into Chuuya unable to sleep hours later because he lost track of time, drank too much caffeine and has a migraine from staring at a screen for so long.

As for being a chronic people pleaser? Well, we mostly see that in Wan or the anthologies. As I've already stated, Chuuya has a hard time saying no to people close to him. It's important that it's not everyone. If he doesn't know them, he can and will tell them to beat it, if he wants to.

But show him a little of bit kindness? An ounce of respect? Be nice to him for a moment and the people pleasing button gets pressed. He goes about it in a round about way, he can't have you know that's what he's doing so Chuuya makes up excuses as to why he's doing it, but he does it all the same.

We see it when he buys Kenji dinner, or makes everyone shaved ice and plenty of other examples. He has to go above and beyond. He wants you to be impressed because he wants the praise, but he can't have you know that's what he wants.

The only person he doesn't do this with is Dazai. And that's probably to do with how they met at 15 (also because Dazai annoys the hell out of him). They met when Chuuya's people pleasing was at its worst, when he was King of Sheep and had next to no will of his own because Chuuya was too afraid of losing the Sheep to not do as they say. Dazai breaks him out of that.

For all they make the bet that Chuuya's his dog, aside from the odd joke, Dazai is never seen making good on that. He never orders Chuuya around like a dog, they are partners and he treats him as such. When Dazai witnesses Chuuya being treated this way by the sheep, he looks annoyed, he doesn't like seeing it. Chuuya being his dog was always just a silly joke.

Dazai being so annoying that Chuuya couldn't stand to do what he said helped Chuuya break out of some of his people pleasing habits and learn saying no was okay. After Dazai defected, I think those habits came back as Chuuya had to fill the role of Mori's right hand in his absence.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd #my writing #bsd headcanons #Chuuya needs a holiday #Let him have some peace please #Chuuya Sigma and Dazai are all going on a road trip after the prison break #and nothing bad will happen #just fun vibes and locking Dazai in the trunk when he's being annoying

[desswright29]

The Great Antipode

Pairing: Ex/Queen Shuri X Ex/Singer Reader

Word Count: A short Novel lol

Summary: Five years ago, you left Shuri on her knees in her hotel room. On the night of your wedding. The two of you moved forward with your lives both accomplishing great things. Will a celebration thrown for your latest accomplish bring the two of you back together?

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Domestic violence, slow burn, deprived Shuri

A/n: Ok y’all. Snuggle up for this one. It’s long af! But It has something for ALLL THE GIRLY’s. The romance girls, the angst girls, the smut girls, the slow burn girls, the music girls. And “Good bones” is an original poem. So I hope you all snuggle up and rub your feet together and dive in. Enjoy! Happy B-lated Valentines.

Good Bones by Shuri Udaku Who knew that the death of us could be so endearing? Laid to rest, the flesh of fearing Decaying beneath the thumb of time The stars in your eyes and my heart align

Weakness shriveled, and fell off the shape Kindred spirits take place in love’s nape A funeral began, to which we did not attend But tears fell through the soil, and growing begins

Time stood still and said “not yet” A reach in the night, yet our hands never met But I felt you, Sthandwa… I was never alone No strength in old vessels, but our love has good bones.

Walking along the foggy dock; the long coat of her tuxedo whisked gracefully in the windy night. Her vision was engrossed with the horizon of the navy sky, almost hypnotized by the green light that blinked at the top of the building in the city. The owner of the home that was a direct antipode to her own ran marathons through her mind. Though she couldn’t fully visualize it, she knew it was there. A perfect vertical axis from her home, to the home of her heart. She’d built it that way. Coming up on the end of the dock her stride  came to a halt. Her eyes shut, with the green light still invading her sight behind the lids of her eyes. She stretched out her arm,reaching for the light. For the love she’d lost five years ago. She reached for a sign. Even just a light wind to tickle the tips of her fingers. Any sign that maybe, just maybe she was thinking of her too.

“Ikumkani wam” Griot spoke through the Queens Kimoyo earrings. “Wakanda is calling.”

With a light sigh, her hand fell to her side, jaw flenching in frustration. She opened her eyes, staring right back out into the darkness that surrounded the relentless blinking green light. The darkness she deserved after the hurt she’d caused the only woman she’d ever truly loved. She turned on her heels, begining the walk back to what had become her second home. Turning her back on the darkness, and also the flashing hope of the green light.

“Bast. Hear my cry. I have done the work. If you see fit, please send my heart back to me.”

Across the axis the direct antipode to the home the Queen had built, was a JamesEdition penthouse filled with busy bodies, and buzzing conversations as everyone prepared for the big day! The fuss was partially interupted by the ringing of the doorbell. The door opened to reveal Mr. Bruno Mars. The best friend to the lady of the house. Greeted at the door by the butler, and led through the elegant grand hallway to the study. Where he was met by Mr. Michael Addai. His best friends husband. Michael quickly took the phone from his ear ending the call immediately to properly greet Bruno.

“Bruno! What’s up my brother!” He spoke with a loud booming voice, his walk just as boisterous. He stuck out his hand for Bruno to grab. 

“How’s it going man?” Bruno replies.

“Everything is everything man. That woman of mine has been talking about seeing you non-stop all week!” Bruno smiles affectionately.

“Well I should get to her then. I’m excited to see her too. I’ve missed her.” Mike smiles, wrapping an arm around Bruno’s neck.

“Inseparable the two of you. It’s quite cute!” He laughed big and loud, as the two of them entered busy living room.

The house was alive with music and bodies. It almost seemed as if it were a dance. Hair stylist, makeup artist, and wardrobe, moved gracefully around the large room. Their only mission being to perfect the beauty that sat in the center of the room. 

A luxurious silky white robe tied neatly around your waist, hung from your shoulders so elegantly. You sat leaned slightly forward, legs crossed as the makeup artist applied the last bit of gloss to your plump bottom lip.

“Well I’ll be damned! It seems as though you’ve made it my friend.” A light gasp leaves your lips. Your head turns and your eyes glimmer as they connect with your longtime bestfriend. 

“Is that you my love!?” You stood, rushing over to him with your delicately heeled feet. Arms raised prepared to be wrapped around your favorite person. You close your eyes as the two of you connect finding comfort in the warm embrace. 

“Did you miss me?” You say pulling away staring into his smiling eyes. “Everyday! Everyday I sat by my window in Rome and gazed into the nights sky missing my only friend!” He says, full of drama like only he could. You giggle pushing his shoulder, turning to take your seat back in the center of the room so that your hair could be finished.

“You’re lying. But I’m still flattered.” Bruno laughed along with you. 

“Not about the important part.” The two of you share another glance with mutual adoration.

“Bruno!” Your sister Danielle yelled as she trotted down the stairs to embrace him. “It’s been a while! I see your work in my travels often! Beautiful! Incredible!”

“Thank you Dani. I’m very flattered.” He says with a blush. 

“Yes! They are which reminds me I’m hoping to commission an original piece from you.” You chime in somewhere beneath all of the commotion. 

“I’d be honored. Especially, from a soon to be Grammy winner. Ten nominations is unfathomable!” You giggle and do a little jig.

“It still feels like a fever dream. I’m taking it moment by moment.” Someone began to fan you. Keeping you from overheating in all the commotion. 

“So Bruno, are you back in New York for good?” Michael asks, walking over to the mini bar to pour two glasses of scotch. 

“For awhile atleast, I’ll be settling. Just bought a new place over in New Rochelle. It’s nice though humble compared to the estate next door.”

“New Rochelle? Interesting. There’s an after party out there tonight. It’s being given by someone who calls themselves Sweet Lady. Have you heard of her? Anyway, I was planning for us to go there after sissy came home with the win!” Dani exclaimed, sitting elegantly on the couch in her flowing sundress. 

“Can’t say that I’ve heard of her, but I’m down to go.” Bruno replied, as Michael hands him his scotch and he nods in appreciation.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Sweet lady?” You say. “Sweet lady.” You say again in a whisper to yourself. Confusion crept up on your brow as the image of her sculpted face creeped into your mind. Within a blink she was again gone. 

“Y/n are you ok?” Bruno asks, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Hm? Oh yes. I’m fine. Today is just overwhelming in this best possible way! Let’s just get through the show first and we can discuss the parties later. They’ll be plenty!”

You say, joy prevalent in your voice. But, in the back of your mind that name continued to echo.

 Sweet Lady.

Slouched in her seat, leaning slightly to the left with her elbow resting on the arm of the chair, her thumb rested underneath her chin, and her pointer finger sat thoughtfully over her lips. Shuri sat sectioned off, secluded from the masses in an area of the building that was drapped in golden curtains and flooded with security. 

Nakia and Okoye sat beside her watching the stage with expectancy. Shuri’s fingers tapped along the table before she nervously reached forward, grabbing her drink, and taking a stressed sip. She was fixated, focused in on the screen as Victoria Monet sashayed onto the stage to present the last award you had been nominated for. Album of the year. Her heart pounded against her chest, and her palms were sweaty as photos of you and the other nominees flipped onto the screen. So far, you’d cleared eight of the ten Grammy’s you were nominated for and Shuri’s heart swelled with pride.

Victoria opened the envelope, and Shuri sat forward. Her elbows sat steady on the table holding up prayer hands. Underneath the table, her knee bounced uncontrollably. It seemed the world was moving in slow motion as Victoria’s eyes lit up looking up from the envelope. 

“Oh My God!! Everybody stand to your feet right now! Give it up for my girl as she comes up to except her 9th Grammy of the night!! Making history and surpassing Michael Jackson’s record of eight in one night. Mrs. Y/n Y/l/n-Addai!!!!”

The other nominees photo’s disappear, and Shuri’s hands flew to her mouth as she jumped to her feet. Pumping her fist in the air. “Holy Shit! She’s done it! She did it! That’s my girl!”

Her eyes welled, as she looked to Nakia who stood to the left of her, grinning, clapping, and hooting like a proud big sister. “Yeeeesss!!” Okoye stood stoic a hint of a smile on her face and proud eyes. 

The camera landed on you, standing stuck at your seat, tears streaming down your beautifully made up face. Your hands covered your mouth, identical to Shuri’s. Your mom scooped you up inside her arms holding you, rocking side to side whispering her pride in your ear. 

Your sister jumped up and down, her own tears falling before she joined in with you and your mother. Your husband waited patiently, smiling down at you taking your hand and the two of you share a loving kiss. The crowd was roaring, giving you a well deserved standing ovation. 

Suddenly, a longing took over Shuri’s body. The lump in her throat getting larger, and the direction of her tears changing. Shuri’s eyes zero’d in on his hand, resting delicately on your waist as you gracefully saunter up the steps to the stage to receive your award. That should’ve been her. Guiding her beautiful wife up the stairs, waiting at the bottom as you had your moment. That should’ve been her last name hyphenated behind your own. Instead, she sat hidden away. Wanting to support, and be there for you without ruining your evening with her past transgressions.

Your dress was simple and elegant. A silky black material, with a slit that traveled all the way up to your small waist and flared out beautifully. It trailed behind you as you gave Victoria a long tearful hug before stepping up to the mic and trying to speak. Your husband stepped up beside you pressing you into him. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out and you closed your eyes opting for a wet exhale as the audience cheered you on. Shuri’s eyebrows furrowed. Why was he still there?

You try again successfully “Whew, this is…..WOW!” You broke into tears again. As you spoke HE remained attached to your hip. Pressing your body into his side while you tried to deliver your speech. Shuri cocked her head to the side in annoyance. Until the sound of your voice took over the room again.

“You’ve all had to hear a lot from me tonight, so I’ll do my best to make this short.” A few chuckles float through the crowd. “If you look around you’ll see all of my family here. My mom, my sister, my bestie even flew in from his travels to be here tonight. Heeey Bruno!” You smile and wave and he smiled pumping his fist. “And my wonderful husband who’s always standing beside me. I love you baby.”  He gave you a peck on the cheek before finally stepping back. In an instant, a flash of sadness took over your face and you took a contemplative breath before speaking again. 

“A long time ago, I had a pretty amazing friend. Under difficult circumstances that friend grew to mean the world to me. Even in the middle of loss that would’ve sent most of us into a spiral of insanity, she didn’t break. She mourned, she tried, she failed, and she learned. She never gave herself the option to quit. Now today she stands as one of the worlds most powerful, innovative, world leaders of any time. Who has not only shown an undying love for her own people, but has spread that love over into our African American culture! And let us not forget she is a BLACK…WOMAN!” 

The entire crowd stood to their feet with a loud applause. You smile while wiping away a single tear, waiting for the crowd to calm down. “During my first album she’d fly in with her busy schedule, just to be in studio sessions with me and the crew until sunrise. Making sure all of our broke ass’s  ate and atleast got some sleep.” You laughed lightly as the crowd followed. “Outside of all of my musical inspirations that I’ve listed tonight, I would be remiss to not mention my greatest inspiration. The person who inspires my resilience, my tenacity, my work ethic. The person who showed me that it wasn’t enough just to be pretty and talented. But, that I had to be smart and unafraid to be a bitch that was about my business.” A few shouts of agreement sounded throughout the crow.

“So tonight I hope that she’s watching. I hope she’s proud, and I want her to know that if it hadn’t been for her, I would not  be standing here today. Thank you for loving me the best you knew how. But, most of all thank you for believing in me. This last one is for you Queen Shuri Udaku.” You held your award in the air before crossing your arms over your chest in a Wakandan salute. “Thank y’all.” The crowd roared.

Nakia and Okoye stood on either side of Shuri tears in their eyes, arms crossed over their chest. Shuri sat in shocked. Her right hand sat over her heart and her eyes were closed, as she listened to the sound of the roaring crowd. The day she lost you. She’d prayed. Prayed to Bast that she would make you and her family proud. That somehow she could rise out of the deep dark hole she’d dug herself into, clean and in good graces. Now, here you were taking your historic moment to acknowledge not only how she had impacted you, but her impact on the world. She let out a shakey breath standing to her feet. She crossed her arms over her chest. And she, Nakia, and Okoye placed there arms down to their sides simultaneously.

You turned to walk off of the stage and landed right into your husbands arms. He pressed your body up against his, trapping your lips against his in a sloppy kiss. When he pulled back. He yelled “Love this girl!” into the microphone. The crowd went crazy, clapping, laughing, and hooting. Shuri officially couldn’t do it anymore. Her hands shook. She was overwhelmed with the storm of emotions evading her senses and she needed to get away. 

“Shuri. Do you want to go, Usisi?” Nakia spoke up, noticing the distress in her little sisters eyes. Shuri took another sip of her drink. She nodded, wordlessly placing her drink back onto the table. Everyone at the table grabbed their belongings as Shuri stood to her feet. The Dora surrounded her, and Nakia and Okoye stood in front. 

Bruno looked up from his seat out into the sea of people, just in time to catch a glimpse of what looked like the Dora Milaje exiting the building. 

“What the fuck was that?” Your husband came up behind you whispering as you exited the stage. He gripped your hips rougher than necessary pulling you against him. “It was a speech Michael.” He nuzzled into your neck, breath tickling your ear. Your skin crawled.

“She can’t save you. You know that right? You belong to me.”

“Why on earth would you acknowledge her in your moment! That was YOUR moment y/n!”

“My moment to say whatever I wanted to say Dani.” You say, uninterested in your sisters opinion. You sat at the bar in your home sharing a celebratory drink with your mother and sister.

“And it was a beautiful speech baby girl. I’m sure Shuri was very touched.” Your mother says before glaring at your sister. “Dani we all know how you feel about Shuri. Let’s not ruin a good night with it.” Dani rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying. She may be doing great things now but she still hurt my sister, so she’ll forever be the opp to me.”

“The opp? Girl…Ok street nigga.” You say rolling your eyes back at her.

“Well, it’s obvious the woman has grown and it’s ok for your sister to acknowledge that. Because she’s grown as well. Shuri didn’t go about loving your sister in the best way. But the love she had for her was undeniable. She just had some healing to do.” Dani smacks her teeth.

“Fuck her.” Your mother furrows her brow.

“Danielle” Dani quickly straightened up.

“Sorry Mommy.”

“Mhm. That’ll be my cue. I’m headed in for the night. I’m gonna go back to my hotel.” Your mom got up from her bar stool begining to grab her things. 

“Mommy we have plenty of room. I don’t know why you felt the need to get a hotel!”

“No no! You all need your space tonight. I figured you’d all be partying all night. And I may want to find me some company.” She winks at you and your sister.

“Oh nah. We’re not there yet mama.” Danielle says.

“Absolutely not. But do your thing girl!” You say, and you all laugh.

“Goodnight beautiful girls. Be safe tonight.” You mom threw over her shoulder as she walked out of your home.

“We should be heading out now too!” You give your sister an apologetic look before speaking.

“Rain check?”

“Y/n! I don’t want to hear that shit! Please tell me you’re not bailing on your big night! You won nine Grammy’s tonight! Let’s go have some fun! Everyone is waiting and want to celebrate you! This party is supposed to be one for the books.” Your sister stares at you incredulously.

“Well you go ahead! Everything was just alot tonight. I’m a bit overstimulated and tired. You know how I get. We can celebrate tomorrow I promise.” 

“Y/n-“ she began to protest.

“Really I’m ok. Me and Michael will celebrate in our own way.” She turns up her nose. “You’ll be back to see mommy tomorrow anyway. Go have fun! This is all of our night to celebrate! Take a driver!” Your sister hesitated, but eventually gave in.

“Ok. Tomorrow y/n.” She points with a stern glare. 

“Tomorrow.” Your sister looked at you with a bit of worry in her eyes. 

“You still thinking about her?” She asks.

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“She did played a huge roll in all this Dani. Part of me wishes she could’ve experienced this with me.” Your sister shook her head in disapproval. 

“Well she can’t, because she fucked up that chance. She’s doing great ruling her country well. And you’re doing damn good without her. She wasn’t concerned with how you felt when she was cheating and how she feels now is none of your concern. Keep your eyes forward baby sister.” You cast your eyes downward. She lifts your chin.

“I’m so proud of you, and I love you.” She says giving you a hug.

“I love you too.“ You smile, and walk her out of your home. You shut the door leaning against it, you close your eyes and let out a small exhale. That’s when a full bottle of alcohol flew by your head. The sound of glass crashing on the door beside your head shocked your system, as a frightened squeal left your mouth. You gripped your dress preparing for impact. Michael grabbed you by the biceps pushing you into the wet spot and tiny glass shards left on the wall. 

“Michael! Please!” You tried breaking free to no avail.

He wrapped his hand around your throat hard. Cutting off your circulation.  

“How dare you acknowledge that bitch on our night?” 

“I’m sorry.” You rasped, hanging there helplessly. The color leaving your face.

“Don’t let all of these little accolades get to your head. You’re still a little piece of trash that lucked out and got me after the queen hung you out to dry. Remember that shit the next time you decide to publicly embarrass me.” He threw you to the ground into the pile of broken glass on the floor.

“Argh!” You yell out gasping for air, as glass peirced your arms.

“Worthless.” He mumbles as he walked away. 

You lie there in the glass, and once he was far enough away you inhaled deeply before, sobbing. Wondering how you had ended up here.

Rolls Royce, Bentleys, and Maybachs OH MY! The finest cars lined up outside of Sweet Lady’s home as they tried getting into the Estate. The open invitation Grammy’s party was indeed Bruno’s next door neighbors. He watched the house from the road as it lit up the sky. The music pumped loudly, and rowdy conversations could be heard for miles. Bruno maneuvered around the cars parked in front of his driveway trying to make his way up to his front door. A black envelope, lined with gold waited for him. Taped over the peephole. He looked around before carefully walking up on his porch, taking down the envelope and opening it. 

“I have an invitation!” Bruno yelled, with the card held high above the crowd. He found himself shoulder to shoulder with a sea of people trying to enter the gates of the grand estate. 

He continuously try’d showing his invitation to the random men in black suits that stood guard. But it seemed as though it didn’t matter, being that he was the only one who had one. Placing the invite in the front pocket of his suit jacket, he walked further into the party. His eyes filled with wonder as he’d never seen anything quite like this before. The home was exquisite. Lit up like an amusement park. It almost looked like a modern museum. There was a live band playing in the center of the fountain.  Dancers and servers everywhere with whatever food you could think of. Some for the bougie. Some for the hungry. And the drinks were endless! 

This home was what dreams were made of. Who is this Sweet Lady?

“Bruno!” A feminine voice called from behind him. He turned to see Dani waving above the crowd. “Hey! I see you decided to come! This place is insane!” She said. 

“Yea I did. I found an invite on my door. Did you get one?”

“No one got an invite.” Dani shrugged.

They moved through the party sipping cocktails and continuing their conversation. 

“Do you know her?”

“Only what I’ve heard of her. But no one has ever seen her.”

“Wow. I wonder who she is? She has to be a huge deal to live this way!”

“I’ve heard she’s some invisible industry big wig. That she controls the industry. You know Illuminati type shit.” Dani said. Another individual over heard the conversation as they began to ascend the stairs, and decided to add their bit of gossip.

“I heard she was a spy.” They say, causing a domino effect.

“I heard she was a bootlegger, on the run.”

“I heard she was a politician.”

“Who ever she is I’d like to know her.” 

Everyone looked at eachother able to agree on that statement.

“Excuse me? Peter? Peter Gene Hernandez?” A man in black interupted the gossip circle. Bruno was taken aback. That was him. His full government name.

“Um y-yes. That’s me.” He says, confusion apparent.

“Madame would like to speak with you. If you would follow me.” Everyone gaped at the scene dying to know what Sweet lady wanted with Bruno. Bruno looked at Dani his heart pounding a bit in his chest. She gave him a nod to follow the man and he slowly complied.

He was led through the large doors into a grand foyer, and up a staircase that could’ve easily been mistaken for something inside of the Metropolitan. Everything about this home was tastefully over the top. Whoever this mystery woman was, two things could be said for her. One: She was Classy, And Two: She was LOADED.  After being led through a long hallway. He was taken through yet another set of double doors that entered a much cozier area of the house. With beautiful furniture. Still plenty of room to entertain and a grand piano. A figure in a black and gold suit stood watching the party from a bay window. 

She was slender. Yet powerful in stature. Her hair was cut low. And her jaw, sharp. In some cases she could be mistaken for male. But for Bruno. There was no mistaking that posture. Before him stood…..

Shuri Udaku. Queen of Wakanda.

“Bruno my friend. How have you been?”

“Shuri?” She turned from the window. Finally facing Bruno. 

“In the flesh” She says raising her martini glass. Fireworks went off outside of the large windows as if this moment had been coordinated.  

“So I wasn’t tripping when I saw Dora leaving the award show?”

“No you weren’t tripping.” She giggled. “I guess we could have been a bit more discreet in our exit.” They both stood awkwardly. Shuri took a sip of her drink and ran a hand over head. 

“So they said you wanted to see me?” 

“Of course. Yes. Yes. I did ask for you. Um. I wanted to know if.. if she came?”

“Y/n you mean?” Shuri shifted on her feet.

“Yes. Y/n.” It was all starting to click for Bruno.

“No. She said she was tired.” Shuri’s face visibly saddened, and she turned back towards the window. Placing a hand into her pocket as she held on to her glass with the other. 

“She used to love parties…This was all for her.” Her head lowered. “I guess this was my way of celebrating her without having to disrupt her day.” Bruno looked at his surroundings.

“This house for her too?” Shuri just stared into Bruno thinking of a way to answer.

“In a way. Y/n always had big dreams. When we were together she always said she wanted something like this. Something huge outside of the Citadel where she could entertain, and have garden parties and things. Just some where for us to come and relax that had endless possibilities. So, I built her dream home. An antipode of sorts. I’m aware I’ll never have her again. But I come here when I want to feel close to her.” Shuri turned away from the window and walked over to the seating area placing her glass down and taking a seat. Bruno looked on, exceedingly impressed with the love Shuri had for you. “I know it’s silly. I just hoped that tonight she could atleast see it.”

Bruno thought back to tonight at the show. The blantant show of insecurity your husband put on. The cautiousness you held around him. How he wouldn’t let you have your moment completely. The inappropriate glances with other women that he thought no one noticed. Bruno had come to the conclusion that he didn’t really like Mike pretty early on in the evening.

“How’d you know I lived next door?” Shuri smirked. “Oh Bruno. You know better. I’m still extremely aware of my surroundings.”

Bruno chuckled, joining Shuri on the plush sofa. “If it’s any consolation, this place is amazing. And this is one hell of a party. She would’ve loved it.” Shuri leaned back before running a hand over her face. 

“Nah. This was stupid. I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“It’s really a beautiful gesture. Maybe you could talk to Danielle she’s here. She could put a bug in her ear.” Shuri shook her head. “Absolutely not! She’s more angry at me than Y/n. It’d be like arguing with a rock.” Bruno’s eyebrows rose in agreement.

“That’s true.” He leaned back as well. That’s when an idea hit him. “Hey! How about I invite her over for dinner tomorrow. Tell her to come alone. And you could join us.” Shuri sat up straight, her head turned towards him. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her pants before standing and pacing. 

“Y-you think she’ll come. That would be great! Dinner? That gives us plenty of time for us to get your grass cut. No offense. Griot. Contact the gardeners!” She began rambling.

“Whoa whoa. Calm down. Yes she’ll come. I’ve been gone awhile she’ll want to catch up.” The excitement in Shuri’s eyes was almost childlike. 

“Ok. Ok. Great! That’s great!” 

“So tomorrow?” Bruno stood, outstretching his hand for Shuri. She stepped forward taking his hand in hers and shaking. 

“Tomorrow.”

Bruno walked back out into the party. Dani stood at the entrance of the mansion waiting wide eyed as she sees Bruno approaching. She quickly meets him half way.

“Wellllllll.” She said excited for answers.

“I can’t give you anything. But just know… This all makes sense.”

The next morning Bruno woke up to the sound of power tools outside of his home. He quickly jumped up grabbing his robe rushing to his front door. He swung it open to see a crew of gardeners in his yard. Cutting grass, planting flowers. And… building a fountain? Shuri stood in the center of the yard overseeing the work being done. Bruno just shook his head and walked back into the house to prepare his home for when you arrived. 

Closer to time for dinner to start, rain started to pour from the sky. Bruno glanced out of the window of his kitchen as he put together some appetizers for the evening. An army of umbrellas marched up his driveway. Shuri leading the pack dressed to the nines. Bruno  opened the door for the barrage of people, Shuri stepped aside allowing them to enter Bruno’s home. The first two people carried a large 3 teir wedding style cake. The others carried tables, food, chairs and more flowers. “They say the rain will clear by evening.” Her eyes shifted around the yard looking over the work done. Her eyes never settling on one thing. 

“Yes it should.” Bruno says. 

“Is everything alright?” Shuri asks, finally looking his way.

“Ah. The grass looks fine if that’s what you mean.” Shuri looks around and then back at Bruno. 

“Grass? What grass?” And brushed past him walking into the house.

Time ticked by as they sat quietly watching the clock in Bruno’s living room. Shuri sat fiddling with her hands on the couch facing the clock. Her foot taping rapidly. Bruno leaned against the entry way to his living room watching Shuri’s internal panic. One minute after five Shuri hopped to her feet. 

“I can’t wait all day. She’s not coming. I’m going home.” 

“Shuri she’s only a minute late.” She rushed past him. “I’ll just go. She wouldn’t want to see me. Besides no one’s coming to dinner it’s too-” She was cut off by the honking of a horn as a car pulled up. “It’s her.” Bruno said grabbing an umbrella and rushing out of the door. Shuri froze in the hall eyes wide with regret before rushing back to the living room where she tried to find the best way to present herself to you. She eventually opted for an awkward pose by the sliding doors waiting for you to enter. 

Bruno rushed outside with an umbrella waiting for your driver to let you out of the car. The driver came around laying out a carpet for you, so that you wouldn’t step into the mud. Bruno held out the umbrella as you stepped out.

“This is a beautiful place you have Bruno. Why did I have to come alone? Are you gonna confess your love for me?” He laughs.

“Oh that’s a secret! Tell your driver to go far away!” The two of you laugh. “I’ll call you back James! His name is James.” You say as you both enter the house. Bruno allows you to walk ahead of him. You stop to check your reflection in the hall mirror before heading to the living room. You were stopped in your tracks at the doorway of the living room, your mouth dropping.

“Oh my God! Did you ransack a greenhouse?” You ask walking through touching all of the beautiful flowers. “He is in love with me.” You whisper to yourself. Bruno walks in behind you looking around in confusion. Shuri was nowhere in sight. That’s when he noticed the sliding door had been left slightly ajar. He let out a sigh, and you take off your jacket. Bruno took it from you to hang in the hallway. 

“That’s funny.” He chuckles.

“Wha-“

And there was a knock at the door.

“Give me one second.” He says as He ran to the door. There Shuri stood, now soaking wet.

“What are you doing?” He whisper yelled.

“I can’t do this! This is crazy!”

“Come on Shuri she’s here now! This is what you wanted.” She shook her head turning away.

“I’m leaving.”

“Stop it! You’re acting like a child.” Bruno chastised. Shuri stopped in her tracks. Turning back towards Bruno. She stepped forward, smoothing down her jacket. She charged forward into the house. 

“Is everything ok?” You say, hearing footsteps enter the living room as you stood gazing out of the glass sliding doors. You turned only to be met with the shock of your life. There she stood, in burgundy slacks and a matching jacket with golden flower embellishments, with the shoes that matched to the T. Though she was drenched, she wasn’t any less of the African Goddess you remembered. An ethereal beauty. 

“Shuri?”

“Sthandwa.” Shuri breathed, She felt like her heart would explode as she ogled at your beauty up close for the first time in years. It’d been five years since you’d left her on her knees in her hotel. The years spent alone had not been wasted. She’d matured immensely. Though she was the youngest to have ever ruled Wakanda, it was a well known fact that she was indeed the best. She’d dedicated her life to the well being of her people. And it’d kept her sane. But everyday she awoke feeling like a continuous failure. All because she’d lost you.

Now here you were. 

You wore a simple white dress that fell off of your shoulders. The sleeves were long but sheer. The skirt short but flowing. The sunlight beaming through the glass doors, hit you just right. Casting a glow around your silhouette. One could mistake you for an Angel. You were the first to break the awkward silence. 

“I’m certainly glad to see you again.” Shuri let out a puff of air as though she had been holding her breath. 

“H-hi. I’m certainly glad to see you too.” 

Your eyes slightly water as a smile crept up on your face. In that moment Shuri felt blessed. She’d never thought that she would see your smile directed at her again. Your eyes light up with the sight of her. A sense of relief passed her over as the two of you gazed at the other from across the room. The sound of a tea kettle whistling from the kitchen sounded throughout the house. But the two of you never broke eye contact. 

“Um. That’s the tea. We should head to the dining room before the food gets cold.” Bruno cut into the tension.

“Y-yea that sounds good.” Shuri agreed.

The two of you migrated into the dining room, as Bruno excused himself to the kitchen to grab the tea. Shuri pulled out your chair and you took your seat, as she sat adjacent to you.  The silence remained awkward as you both tried catching glances at the other without each other noticing.

Bruno came and sat the tea in front of the both of you. “The servers will be out with the food in a few. But, I forgot. I have this thing in town.” Shuri’s head snapped up towards Bruno the fear in her eyes apparent. “I know forgetful. But you guys enjoy yourselves I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He said rushing out of the house. Shuri got up quickly following him. “Be right back” she said to you before running behind him. 

“What are you doing?” She asked incredulously. 

“Im leaving the two of you alone. And you’re not going to get anywhere with her talking to me. Go back!”

“This is bad. This is a bad idea. It’s embarrassing!” Shuri said pacing and panicking. Bruno grabbed her shoulders.

“Hey! It’s ok. Y/n‘s inside waiting for you. Go get her.” Shuri swallowed. Giving Bruno a greatful nod. With that she went back inside.

“I’m sorry about that.” Shuri said as she sat next to you. You eye her as she sat.

“It’s fine. I’m guessing you’re nervous.”

“Yes. Yes you could say that.” You laugh softly.

“I have to say I am too. This was very unexpected.” 

“I realize that. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. I just.. uh.. I really wanted to see you. Congratulate you in person. I’ve never sat next to a nine time Grammy winner before.” The both of you laugh as the atmosphere started to feel a little less heavy. 

“Actually. Im really happy to see you Shuri.” Shuri sat forward a bit looking at you intently.

“I must tell you that your speech meant the world to me.” Your eyes widened.

“You watched?” Shuri broke eye contact. “Uh” Your face scrunches in confusion.

“You were there?” She looked back into your eyes. 

“I couldn’t have imagined missing it. I am so very proud of you. You’ve become one hell of a force, and you would’ve become that with or without me.” Your eyes glistened with tears.

“Thank you.” You whispered reaching for her hand that she slowly placed in yours. The smallest connection sent waves of electricity through the both of you. Today it would go ignored.

“There’s so much I want to share with you Shuri. We have so much to catch up on. I’ve missed you.” A tear fell from Shuri’s eye and she quickly wiped it away. “Yes we do. I’ve missed you too.” The servers began to bring out the food, it was easy to see that it was hand selected by Shuri. Everything she remembered being your favorite was on the menu. The two of you talked and laughed. It was refreshing, the way it had been in the beginning. 

When Bruno returned the two of you had made your way back into the living room with the drinks of your choice. Shuri’s arm was behind you on the couch, her body turned towards you as she listened intently to the words coming out of your mouth. He couldn’t help but smile. The sight was almost nostalgic. 

He cleared his throat, and was ignored. He rattled his keys and still wasn’t acknowledged. So he decided to just announce himself. 

“Heeey! I guess dinner went well?” You stood to your feet smiling. “Dinner was delicious.”

You turned your attention to the sliding glass doors and stepped out onto the porch. Staring out at the water. Shuri followed behind you.

“This is beautiful.. just open breathable air. You can even see the top of the buildings in the city.”

“It is quite beautiful. You have an even better view from my place.” You look at her in confusion. 

“Where is your place?”

Shuri points to the home straight across.

“So you are Sweet Lady.”

She chuckled. “I’d hoped you’d come to the party. But honestly, this was much more rewarding.”

“Well I’d love to have a tour.” Shuri’s heart soared. 

“Of course. Bruno! I’d like for you and y/n to come to my house so I can show her around.”

“Ooooh my-“ You say stepping inside the gates of Shuri’s home, stunned, thunderstruck. You couldn’t believe your eyes. A knot formed in your throat. “Shuri is.. is this-“ Shuri stepped up beside you. Taking in your reaction with an affectionate smile she replied.

“Yes. It is.”

“Our house.” You say, a lone tear fell from your eyes, as you look up at her.

“Our house, Thando.” 

“I-“ was all you could say. Words escaped you. 

“There’s so much to see. Ubusi. She directs you forward holding out her hand, gesturing for you to go ahead of her. Shuri and Bruno grabbed your hands leading you up the steps as you admire the architecture. The doors open to the entrance and your breath was taken as you stepped inside. 

Years ago, at the begining of your relationship you and Shuri designed this home as a game. A fun look into what could’ve been your future. After the two of you had finished you’d fawned over how the two of you meshed so well, and how this would be your dream home. With everything that happened the memory faded into the background. But Ofcourse Shuri’s masterful brain, brought it to life and made it into something you could have never dreamed of. 

Beautiful unique chandeliers, marble floors. The entrance with the most gorgeous tree growing in the center of the room. Shuri walked ahead of you leading you throughout the house. Introducing you to staff. Showing you every intricate and well thought out detail of the estate. 

The gardens were your favorite. There were many. An area to have garden parties. A meditation garden, a butterfly garden. Hell there was even a helicopter landing pad! Back inside, you swooned at the beautiful high ceilings of the living room, and the cat walk that surrounded it.

This was all so overwhelming. You felt like you were inside of a fairytale. You watched Shuri as she strolled leisurely through her home proudly. Her calm regality just fit so perfectly well within the home and you found your heart fluttering at not only the beauty of the home. But hers as well. 

The next area was the bedroom. Covered in marble. Cream, Olive greens, and gold. It was huge. Big as some peoples homes. It had its own living room and a bar area. A mirror sat above the bed that had another one of those gorgeous Chandeliers. The hers and hers closets were gold and grey, behind glass enclosures. Shuri’s closet being perfectly organized and the one meant for you empty. 

“Shuri?” She stopped in her tracks, hearing the tremble of your voice. She turned walking over to you. Bruno excused himself from the room leaving the two of you to talk.

“You don’t like it.” She looked worried. “I’m sorry if-“

“Shuri. I love it. How could I not! I’m just wondering. Why? Why all of this? We’ve been done for years. Why did you build our house?” Shuri was silent for a moment before reaching a hand for you to grab. “Come” You take ahold of her hand and allow her to guide you back into the room and onto the large furnished balcony. She stood behind you and pointed out over the water.

“Do you see that? That faint green light flashing on top of the building in the city. Directly across from us.” You look out, humming as it comes into your line of sight. 

“Yes, I see it.” You reply softly

“Remember the first time I messed up? You made it so difficult. One night I’d set up a picnic for you. Laid out blankets. Hung fairy lights. Had all of your favorites. You still weren’t feeling it.” She chuckled slightly, and you join her. 

“I remember that night well.”

“I told you that you could walk away if you so choosed. But that I’d always be waiting for you. That light is at the top of the building that you live in.” You gasp turning to look at her. “I excepted our fate and gave you your space. But I built this in honor of what we had, before it went bad. In memory of my greatest loss. And when I get overwhelmed and wish to be near you. This is where I come.” You gazed into her watery eyes with bated breath. A shakey breath left your lips before you spoke.

“Are you even real?” A small smile crept onto her face before she once again took your hand. “There is one last thing I’d like to show you.”

“What else could there possibly be Shuri.”

“You’ll see.” 

Shuri led you to another set of grand double doors that she opened for you. And led you down a spiral stair case. As the room came into view, a fresh set of tears fell down your face.

“A ball room.”

“Because can you really be a queen without a ballroom.” You both say recalling the moment you’d told her you’d wanted one.

“It’s official. I’m dreaming.”

“You most certainly are not.” Shuri stood behind you. Gazing at the joy radiating from you.

“Shuri this is… I don’t have words.”

You turn to her with tear stained cheeks and a glint in your eyes. You gave a mischievous smile, “Is there music?”

Shuri smiled. “Hm.” She placed a finger at her temple in faux contemplation. “Jovan!” A young gentleman entered the room onto the balcony where there sat a piano.

“My Queen.” 

“Would you play something for my friend Y/n here?” She looked up, and he gave her a nod before sitting at the piano.

The sound of light haunting piano resounded throughout the room, and Shuri looked toward you asking “May I have this dance.” Your face lights up excepting her offer, and taking her hands for her to lead you to the center of the room. It started off with Shuri’s left hand sitting lightly on your waist as her right intertwined with your left.

“ I've been waiting for something

Something I can't ignore

Maybe someone I've been waiting for

To bring me back to life one more time”

It felt personal. And when you looked up and into Shuri’s eyes you knew…These were her words.

“I've been praying for another chance 

To make me feel again

I've been sitting, reminisicing of a better day

Trying to reawake”

You found your self stepping closer into her. Your arm that had previously been on her shoulder sliding down and around her waist. 

“Coast to coast

I'm doing the most for a second chance

Just to feel again

Baby I try and try a thousand times

And I know why”

Your hand left hers and it joins your other at the small of her back. Your head lay comfortably on her chest as she wrapped you up in her arms as though you were the most precious jewel. Your body almost went into shock at the unfamiliar feeling of safety in her arms. Your lip started to tremble as you feel the vibrations in Shuri’s chest as she began to sing the words.

“When you left me,Oh you left behind every moment” Her hand lightly rubbed up and down your spine, as she rocked you side to side. “Back when you said we, Would grow old on a porch in the golden sun.” Your fist clenched the fabric of Shuri’s jacket, your body shaking with sobs. 

“It's not over

Said it's not over

As I shattered every memory across the floor” She ran her fingers through your locs before placing them behind your ear.

“When you leeeeeeeft” You let out a whimper from the words and pressed your body against hers tighter. That’s when it hit you. The pain in your side a reminder of what you had to go back home too. You flenched and Shuri pulled back.

“Are you ok?” You shook your head.

“No.” Shuri’s faced morph into one of confusion as she searched your eyes.

“W-what happened?” She softly gripped your arm and you flenched once again.

“Y/n-“

“ It’s nothing Shuri. I can’t. I-i can’t. I have to get home. Im sorry. This is too much. It’s just too much.” You took off back up the stairs to find the exit as Shuri called after you.

A choked gasp left your lips, as you lay in the center of your bed. Dress pulled up around your waist and hand inside of your panties. You rubbed quick circles into your clit as she ran marathons through your mind.Your eyes were shut tight and you bit harshly into your bottom lip as the sound of her voice, the light touches of her hand, and the security of her arms sat vividly at the forefront of your brain. Turning your head into your pillow, you bite into it to stifle your moan as you come up on your release. 

“Shuuriiiii…Ahh.” Her name tastes so sweet on the tip of your tongue. Your body trembles in the aftermath, and you let out a deep breath. Coming down from your high. 

“This is ridiculous.” You whisper. It’d been a week and you couldn’t shake her. She’d come back into your life and implanted herself inside of your brain. In the most inconvient of moments your mind would drift to her. Causing a goofy grin to spread across your face. You wanted to be near her. It was like her heart called out to you. 

You glanced at the phone on your night stand. 

“This is only going to cause trouble y/n. Don’t do it.” You spoke aloud to yourself. Unfortunately, it seemed as though you had no self-control when it came to the queen. 

“Fuck it.”

You snatched your phone up and found the number you were looking for. 

“Hey, Hey!” He answered after the second ring. 

“Heeeeyyy best friend in the world! How are you!?” Bruno let out a long sigh.

“Aw hell. What do you want?”

“Is that the way we’re greeting each other now?”

“Y/n/n” 

“Okay, okay. Did um. Do you have Shuri’s contact info by chance?” Your voice comes out light, almost shy making Bruno chuckle. 

“She left Kimoyo beads here for you.” You sit up quickly, a smile ghosting over your lips “I’m on my way.” Hopping off of the bed you run to freshen up, oiling your body, and throwing on a form fitting floral sundress. You call downstairs to have vallet bring around your car and head out of your room. 

“Where are you headed, Uto m (my sweetness)

“Oh Papa! You scared me. Um I was heading to Bruno’s. Dani’s meeting us and where going to do lunch.” 

“Hm.” He looks you up and down “You look good. You have been filled with joy lately my dear. Is it the return of your friend?” He says before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. 

“I am happy my friend is back. Yes.” You cringe inside but you fake a giggle. Anything to get out of your suffocating house. 

“Hm. You smell like a harlot. All of this for Bruno?

“Stop babe. Don’t be silly. You bought me this perfume, and you know that Bruno is like a brother to me.  You’re gonna make me late. I already called the car up.” He took your ass into his hands squeezing before letting go. “You can go. But remember who you belong to.” You muster a smile. “I only belong to you Papa” You head out of the door with the intention of clearing your pallet by falling back into the arms of Shuri.

Your car barely rolled to a stop before you hopped out. Jogging up to Bruno’s front door begining to knock. 

“I heard you were looking for me.”

Your hand fell to your side and you turn to see Shuri leaning against your car. Eyes stalking your body lingering on your frame. She was casual today in black joggers, a plain white T, and a white Jacket with African patterned fabrics sewn into the sleeves and pockets.

“I figured I’d save you the call.” You heard Bruno’s voice come from behind the door inside of the house. If he was infront of you right now you’d kiss him.

You squirmed underneath her heated gaze. Her stare penetrating you through the form fitting dress.

“Well it seems you wanted to be found.” You say seductively, giving her a stare of your own. One of Shuri’s brows rose her curiosity officially peaked. 

“I’ve been waiting for you”

“So you knew I’d be back?” Shuri picked up on the change in your interaction with her.

“I can’t say that I did. But, I’d hoped that you would.”

“Well here I am.” The sultry tone of your voice caused Shuri’s head to tilt back eyes peering at you through hooded lids. Any other time the sex oozing from your pores would have knocked Shuri to her knees. As of now, there were more pressing matters.

“You look beautiful.” The words came out low and slow, her voice a lower pitch. “Turn for me.” She pulled moisturizer from her pocket, coating her hands before they met infront of her, rubbing together, gapping at you as though you were her prey. Your need to obey your panther was still ingrained deep into the crevices of your brain. So It was second nature for you to throw your waist length locs over your shoulder so that she would have a better look at you from behind while you turned slow, giving her a show. 

“Mm.” She egged on approvingly. When you finally faced her again there was an unreadable expression on her face. A bit of a storm brewing behind her eyes. However, your want for her made you none the wiser.

Her index finger motioned you forward and you happily obliged, wanting nothing more than to fall into her arms, searching for that feeling of safety again. Those hands, those deliciously attractive tattooed hands landed on your shoulders, slowly, achingly, her fingertips trail down to your forearms. Her thumbs began to rub gentle but firm cirles into your arm. Eyes downcast and focused on her task. The evenness of your skin tone began to wipe away as you both watched a bruised cut apear onto your arm.

Your eyes watered, trained on your arm, afraid to look up. You felt Shuri’s glower burning the side of your face, heating your body with fear and embarrassment. 

“P-performance injury’s.” You falsely claim, and Shuri hummed her disdain.

“Uyaxoka (You’re lying), I need to make something exceedingly clear, Bambo'lwami. You and I are both aware that there is not an ignorant bone in my body. Do not insult my intelligence.” A tear fell from your eye, dropping into the smeared make up on your arm.

“I did not call on you for body, Mtuwam. My intentions are not to seduce you, but to show you what you mean to me. So I will not participate in meaningless sexual banter with you, only for you to walk away from me back into the arms of an abuser. You have to know me better than that. Albeit, It’s been a while. But, my knowledge of the woman I love has not wavered. Mamela kum y/n, I’ll try not to jump the gun and allow myself to become irrational before you decide to be honest with me about whatever this is. I will not turn you away. But, I also will not use you at a time when you are vulnerable. You are loved by me completely and wholly.” Tears poured from their sockets as Shuri finally placed you inside of her protective embrace.

Your heart palpitated against your sternum as panick set in. She was calm. Too calm. What was she going to do?

“I feel you panicking Entle. It is true that everything inside of me is giving me the green light to end his life. The same thing that is driving me forward is holding me back.” She pulled away. Looking down into your eyes. “That is you. Say the word and it is handled.” 

“It doesn’t happen that often. Sometimes he just gets-“ Shuri placed a finger on your lips. A smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes settling onto her face.

“Sh. Don’t piss me off. I’m on edge here Y/n. If your not ready for me to handle it. I’d advise you not to speak to me about it. I damn sure don’t want to hear fucking excuses for him.” Her anger escaped its wall for a second before she fought it back inside. “He will be handled mtuwam. I’ll try my best to wait for you to come to terms with that.” She gently placed your head back onto her chest, placing her chin onto the top of your head as she continued to comfort you with her embrace. 

When all was said and done. Shuri stood tearfully in Bruno’s driveway, sending you back into the arms of your abuser.

Time flew by, before you knew it three months had past. Shuri had kept her promise; though she’d made it blaringly obvious that it was one of the most difficult things she’d ever had to do. She’d given you Kimoyo earrings that matched hers in multiple colors, because they were “more discreet than the bracelet”. They were to be on you at all times. Solely for her sanity while you were still with who she called “that man”. She was constantly back and forth between there and Wakanda. Still having duties to take care of, but it was clear that you intermingled with the top of her priorities.  

While in Wakanda, she was constantly checking your location. If she saw you out to dinner or shopping, extra money would appear in the hidden account she’d gotten you. If she was with you in New Rochelle, she would hire brands to bring there latest collections to the house so that you could browse from the comfort of home. Your closet at her home had filled copiously. You didn’t want to take the clothes home, so they stayed there. Being that’s where you spent the majority of your time.

Access to her home was unlimited, an obvious no brainer for her. “You are the architect. It was made for you.” She would say. Her way with words had always made you swoon. So, over three months your husband had heard excuse after excuse for why you were gone early and coming home late. You’d blamed it on your schedule picking up after the wins. Which wasn’t entirely untrue. However, you always had time to be with Shuri.

In the begining, your attraction to your ex came simply from what you already knew her to be. Resplendant, undaunted, and most importantly secure. She’d come with guaranteed saftey. But, now it was so much deeper than that. All in all, it was simply…HER.

She’d grown so much. There was such a patience and maturity to her. An air of calm that was unknown to her former self. She was slow to anger. Quick to contemplate and very solution based. Her walk, a confident saunter that made you weak in the knees when you’d see her coming in the distance. When she spoke, it was matter of fact, direct. She had no time for bullshit. Shuri had always been a hopeless romantic, grand gestures being her thing. However, the lengths she would go were impressive.

She’d take you on random excursions in her helicopter. A day trip out of the country was not uncommon. You’d go back home to your husband with a tan you hadn’t had that morning, and tell him you’d taken up tanning. Your favorite part of her that not many others didn’t get to see, was her sense of humor. She made you laugh from your belly and it felt special to witness. It was as if it was a piece of her that was only for you. Relaxed and completely wound down.

Over time, you watched her work tirelessly and still there was nothing she wouldn’t do for you, and no time she couldn’t make for you. She made that very clear. Shuri in the past few months had turned out to be many things. But, if you had to narrow it all into one simple word. Only one came to mind. 

Sexy.

It was bad. Every move she made turned you into a literal puddle. Her voice in particular made your spine tingle. And you’d be damned if she didn’t always smell edible. You felt like a preteen having your first real crush.

It’d been the longest two weeks you had ever encountered. Shuri had once again been out of the country, and this time you thought you would loose it. This was the longest stretch of time you’d not been in her presence since the two of you had reconnected and you were getting withdrawls. Today, she was due back and you couldn’t get to her fast enough. You threw on a cute tracksuit placing your hair in a high pony, to get ready to rush out of the house to head to her home. 

“FUCK!” You yell, you’d swung your room door open and your sister was on the other side.

“Whoa! Slow down sonic. Where you headed?”

“Damn! You scared the shit out of me. I was headed to the gym.” Your sister looked you over and your outfit matched your story. 

“Cool. Well I’ll join you. I could use a little sweat session. Let me borrow one of your sets and we can head out.”  She pushed past you into the room to head to your closet.

“Dani, I’m working with a trainer.” Danielle glanced over her shoulder.

“And?”

“And this is my alone time.” Dani turned to you fully. 

“Nah what’s up. What’s really happening? You’ve been M.I.A lately we always spend time together and somehow we’ve barely been in touch.” She sat on the edge of your bed. Waiting for a plausible answer.

“I-I just been working. There’s a lot of pressure on me with this new project after winning 9 Grammy’s everyone is expecting perfection.”

“I didn’t know you were even working on a new project?”

“It’s just-“ you were interupted by the flash of your Kimoyo earring against your sisters face and your eyes widened. 

“Bitch did your earring just take a picture of me?” She stood walking back over to you squinting at your ear, and then it hit her. 

She looked over your shoulder and around the room perplexed. 

“I just know damn well that this isn’t what I think it is.”

“What?” You say feigning innocence.

“Those are damn Kimoyo earrings.” 

“N-no-“

“Griot” Your sister announces.

“It’s nice to hear from you again Ms. Danielle.”

Your eyes shifted downward. Caught.

“Check the message y/n. Out loud.” You sigh.

“Griot, please open my messages.”

“Yes Nkosazana, The Queen says she will be in  shortly and has asked me to advise you to meet her in the garden.” Your sister throws her hands up dramatically walking away from you.

“Thank you Griot.” You reply softly.

“You sneaky bitch!” She whisper yells.

“You can stop whispering Mike caught a flight out this morning.”

“Good. YOU SNEAKY WHORE! You’re fucking Shuri!!” 

“Ok you’re doing a lot! And I am not fucking Shuri! We’re just friends.”

“Friends? Friends! On what planet can you be friends with someone who did you the way Shuri did. That’s not a friend!”

“Damnit Dani! Give the woman some grace! What she did was fucked up and it hurt. But it was over years before she proposed and she’d done the work, before word even got out. She’s an even better woman now. So your disdain for her is completely unwarranted. She isn’t that person anymore!”

“I call bullshit!”

“Dani it happened to me! So you should get over it! I have!” Your sister took a deep breath before continuing.

“Little sister I don’t want you to get hurt. You have a damn good man that would never hurt you the way Sh-“

“You don’t know that!” You scream. “You don’t know Shit Dani! Your talking shit but you were at her house sipping cocktails and watching fireworks on Grammy’s night; at a party she threw to celebrate me! In a house that she built in memeory of us!” Confusion took over your sisters face.

“Mike has been mentally, emotionally, and physically abusive for years! And Shuri would have NEVER done THAT! It took Shuri a second to see me and nobody else noticed! She’s kept me out of here and safe, so Mikes abuse has been minimal lately. She hates that I’m staying here. Afaid of the consequences of leaving. But she’s trying her best to be understanding, and takes damn good care of me sis. Such good care….I feel so loved. So protected, and she’s only being a friend.” Tears now poured down you and your sisters face. “So Yea. I’m leaving. And I’m going to go be with Shuri. Because I’m in love with her…You can let yourself out.” You walk out of your house leaving a stunned Dani behind.

Underneath the apple trees, you sat on a bench with your head lying on Shuri’s shoulder.  Munching on the perfectly juicy fruit, surrounded by the beauty of the garden. 

“This is nice.” Your eyes closed taking in the smell of the flowers, the fruit, and the woman. Shuri smiled. “Yes it is.”

“Shuri?” She hummed, signaling you to go ahead.

“My sister knows.” Shuri’s brown raised as she continued overlooking the garden.

“How much?”

“She knows that I’ve been spending my time here, and that you’re Sweet Lady… She also knows about Mike.” Shuri contemplated on your words a moment before she spoke.

“Thwandie?” She speaks softly in that voice you loved so dearly.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to tell you a story.” You lift your head. Eyes connecting with the sharpness of her jaw, and her handsomely gorgeous side profile. “Ok?”

“A few years ago, There was a young queen, who lost her heart. After she lost her, she felt as since of finality. A vast emptiness that scared her to her core. And as she tried to give her Princess space. Time to sit with the betrayal of the queen. That emptiness penetrated her deeply. It drove her insane.” Shuri took a deep breath and you lay unmoving on her strong shoulder as her arm found your waist. 

“So one day, she couldn’t take it anymore. She showed up to the princess’s home and she begged her forgiveness. Not for the well being of her love. Purely to mend her own brokenness caused by her own poor decision making. Needless to say the door was slammed in her face. Rightfully so. But the self righteous queen continued to bang and beg. Pleading with the princess to help her. All to no avail. So the queen placed her back to the door sitting, quietly crying. Woe is me. Until a few minutes passed and suddenly this wail comes from inside the house. Right on the otherside of the door. It was heartbreaking. Full of a deep ache. A soul wound. So she sat silently crying against the door, as her heart sobbed trying to cleanse herself of the wound the woman she’d trusted had given her.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek, moans escaping your lips through the suppressed sound of hiccups. Shuri continued her own voice shaking as she held back tears of her own.

“I was still there. I heard it. Every body racking sob you let out. That sound etched itself in my mind for years. I got my shit together y/n. I sat and I tortured myself with the sound of the hurt I cause you. And I got up. And I got my shit together, and dedicated my life to being the type of woman who would’ve made you a proud wife. Because that’s what you deserve. That is what you have always deserved.” Tears welled from deep inside and coursed down her cheeks. “You said I inspired you. But you are THE reason. The reason for every move I make baby girl. The reason I learned to pray.” A sob escaped your lips as you turned looking out over the lake. Shuri shed tears of her own as she watched you. The sun was begining to set. Casting a beautiful light over your silhouette.

“I don’t know why you’re choosing to stay there with him. But, I’m ESTATIC that Dani knows. Because now I am sure that it will be short lived. I know it won’t be for me. But please… Leave him. I just want to see you happy.” Her eyes peirced into yours thoughtfully. You gaze back into her eyes, Your feelings beginning to bubble up ready to explode from your lips. 

“Shuri I-“

“Panther, M’Baku is trying to reach you.” 

“I apologize. I must take this.” 

“Ofcourse, I’m gonna go inside. The guys are coming over for a session I should get to the studio.” 

“Ok. I’ll be in shortly.” You smile and nod, turning to walk away, heart still racing from what had almost been said.

You stepped into the booth, befuddled by  Shuri’s words in the garden. You’d wanted so bad to let her know that she owned your heart. That and so many other parts of you. Every part. She had been the insperation behind your pen, Making words flow from you like a river. You’d pushed out soo many songs to use in the past few months, just dreaming of her being yours again. Now here you stood in her home studio, prepared to bring them to life. Bruno sat behind the sound board with your producer Leon, when the doors to the studio opened.

Shuri swaggered into the room with enough posh to bring you to your knees. She had changed from her more formal wear that she wore in the garden. Opting for purple joggers with a black button up jersey that had Wakanda written across the back in gold and purple gradient letters. A matching cap sat low over her eyes as she walked through dapping up all of the guys. Freshly showered it’d seemed. 

She sat on the leather couch directly in your line of sight, and your heart dropped into your stomach. Her smile brightened the dimmed room as she acknowledged you. Arms sitting over on the back of the couch as she man spread underneath the spotlight that was meant to highlight the art on the wall. Now there sat a much more interesting piece beneath it.

“You ready to run this one all the way through?” Leon asked. You tried peeling your eyes away from Shuri, it was as though her presence cast a spell over you. Your fingers graze against the fretboard of your guitar and you build up enough strength to nod signaling them to start. They start the countdown. And the music began.

“You got meee

You've got meeee

You've got meee

You got me speeeeechleeeess”

Your guitar sang, piercing throughout room to reach the woman you loved. 

“Where you been, baby?” Shuri laid her head back against the couch. Her eyes peering at you from underneath her cap.

“My heart starts trembling 

As I hear your footsteps pace”

At this point, everyone else had faded. There was only you and Shuri.

“Goin' out my head I think I'm losin' all my mind 

Drive me crazy burning candles, makin' love all night 

Feels so strange, it feels so crazy to be in your world 

In your arms lost for words, you got me”

You put every ounce of passion you had for Shuri into the song. Her bottom lip was now trapped between her teeth only amplifying your lust for her. 

“Layin' so closely 

I feel your skin rubbin' and touchin' me 

Only sweat between us 

Feelin' you kissin' and pleasin' me” 

Shuri began to involuntarily squeeze the cushions of the couch. Your words and voice coursing through her veins. She was now inside of your mind. Visualizing every word that came out of your beautiful mouth.

“I rub your back 

I kiss your neck 

I know that you love when we touch like that 

I can feel you need me 

Feels so good to me 

Feels so good to meeeeeee”

The tension was thick in the room. Shuri was hypnotized and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. Wanting to see every bit of her reaction to you. The song gets more intense, your pretty breathy voice igniting a fire inside of Shuri.

“You got me 

You got meEeEee

You got meeeee

You got meee”

Your eyes open staring straight into Shuri’s.

“Speechless”

You go into another guitar solo. Your eyes shut tight as your fingers worked the strings with proficiency. 

“all I can say is 

Yeees 

Yeeess

YEEESSSS, all I can say is 

YEeEessss

YeeeEEESS

YEEEEAHHH, OOH!”

Your eyes opened and Shuri now sat on the edge of her seat. The look on her face undoubtedly lust. 

“Kiss me 

Hold mee

You've got me 

SSSpeechleeess”

The song ended and silence penetrated the room. Your eyes finally dropped away from Shuri’s. 

“I think we got it.” You say breaking the silence. 

“Yea.”

“That’s definietly it.”

“I don’t see it getting any better than that.”

Agreement scattered throughout the room. Shuri silently sat back on the sofa, her eyes never leaving you.

The rest of the night was spent perfecting and mixing the song. Discussing music for other projects, and bullshitting. You all smoke, drank, ate, and caught up. The tension however never left between you and Shuri. It was thick in the air and everyone felt it. The subtle glances. The avoidance of touching or being near eachother.

Everyone started packing up to leave one by one, until it was only you and Shuri left. 

“Bye love, I’ll come by tomorrow.” You say to Bruno as you shut the door to the studio behind him. Turning to Shuri who stood leaning against the mixing board. You cleared your throat.

“I guess I should be getting ready to head home.” Shuri nodded. 

“Yea. That’s probably a good idea.” 

“Probably so.” You agree, as you began to gather your things.

“If that’s what you want.” You hear Shuri say. It stopped you in your tracks. “It is pretty late.” She says fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

“Shuri.”

“Yea?” She finally looks up from her hands.

“I don’t want to go home.” 

“Then stay.”

“I’m gonna take a shower it’s been a pretty long day.” you announce as the two of you enter Shuri’s bedroom.

“Yea go ahead. Help yourself.” Though you were often at Shuri’s home, had a closet full of clothes, and her fridge was stocked with foods you loved. You had never spent the night. Always choosing to go home for the sake of discretion. But, tonight Mike was gone and with Shuri was were you wanted to be.

Shuri took off her shoes and unbuttoned her shirt, getting comfortable while you took your shower. She headed to her bar area fixing a drink before taking a seat in one of the plush chairs in the seating area of her bedroom, and turning on soft music. The soft warm lighting highlighted her toned stomach. Glistening against the simple gold chain around her neck as she leaned back, sinking deeper into the comfort of the chair trying to figure out what she was doing. This was dangerous. The two of you were playing with fire, and Shuri didn’t know how much longer she would be able to hold out. It was becoming apparent that the feelings the two of you had for each other were bubbling over. It was getting harder for this friend charade to last. 

She’d dreamed of the day that she could call you hers again. Nevertheless, this time she wanted to do this right. Questions flooded her mind. If the two of you crossed that line, how would you feel about her afterward? Would you regret it and run off? She didn’t want to ruin the progress that had been made with you. She could be totally misreading the signs. Shaking her head she took a sip of her drink, rings clinking against the glass. Sitting it on the side table, her finger circled the rim as she remained in deep thought.

The click of the door to the bathroom grabbed Shuri’s attention. You stepped out of the fog. A black lacy lingerie set with a robe to match decorating your frame. A diamond garter sat high on your thick thigh. Strappy stilettos graced your pretty feet as the smell of your fresh scent permeated the air. You strutted further into the room with all the grace of a super model. Shuri raised a brow as she looked to both sides of her, to be sure she wasn’t dreaming or on a trip. Her mouth sat slightly ajar as her eyes settled back onto you. 

Your walk had always been unmatched to Shuri; the sway of your curves was genuinely hypnotic. You approached the table infront of her with your alluring stride, stepping up onto the golden table, your pretty toned, gartered thigh peaked out from under the robe. Your fingers brushed against the pretty pendants that dangled from the chandelier, your eyes interlocking with Shuri’s.

“These chandeliers.. they’re made from vibranium? Yes?” You inquired seductively.

The rise and fall of Shuri’s chest was steady through the sports bra she wore under her opened shirt. Her heart pounding hard against her chest. She placed her drink against her lips  again taking a light sip, before nodding her answer.

You smile. “Good.” You pulled the tie of the robe from around your waist allowing it to fall open. You began to tie the strap to the bar inside of the Chandelier as you spoke, finally pouring your heart to Shuri. 

”You know Shuri. I wrote that song with you on my mind. I hope you felt that. Lately, all I seem to do is think of you. The smell of your cologne, the sound of your voice, the way you talk. You told me a while back that you wanted all of me, not only my body. Baby I’m ready to give myself to you. All of me. Because you deserve it.” You pur. 

“Y/n I-“ Shuri tried interupting, but you cut her off. “Shhhh. Let me talk, beautiful.” you placed a finger against your lips and Shuri obeyed.

“You treat me so fucking good Shuri. I can’t help the way my body reacts to you. The woman that you are. So strong, powerful, and yet you’re still so gentle and patient with me.” You close your eyes letting out a low moan. “Shuri. Shuri. Shuri. Just your name is enough to make my body tingle. It’s written all over me. All over her.” You grab onto the tie that now hang taught from the chandelier with one hand and your other made a trail down your body and stopped over top of your mound. “All over my kitty kat.” Your body trembled as your hand ran over your clit. Your eyes open, connecting with Shuri who was salivating. 

She had leaned forward her elbows on her knees with her drink dangling from the tips of her fingers. Her bottom lip was relaxed slightly seperated from her top, wet from her recently running her tongue over top of it. 

“Shuri, baby. You give so much. Work so hard. What I want to know is, who takes care of you?” You finally took full hold of the Chandelier and let your body hang, opening your legs wide for the Queen. “I can do that for you daddy. I’d do anything for you.” You began moving your body to the music as you hung from the Chandlier, showing off like an acrobat. Leaving Shuri In a daze “Will you let me?” Shuri let out a staggered breath. 

“Fuck.” Her voice was shakey. Her tongue once again ran slowly over her lower lip as she sat back in her chair placing her drink back on the table next to her. Moment by Victoria Monet began to play as you spun from the glistening beauty above you. Shuri was too stunned to speak as your body spun, streched, rolled and grind to the sexy song. If she was dreaming. Bast did she never want to wake up. 

“BhaBha, are you sure you want to do this?” Shuri finally found words.

“I’ll show you.” Every coherent thought that Shuri had been thinking before exited her mind as you dropped onto the table in a split. Removing the robe from your shoulders. You move out of the split onto all fours. Crawling over and placing yourself inbetween Shuri’s spread legs. You place your hands onto her knees and slowly make your way up the inside of her thighs, fingertips brushing against her womanhood before making up your way up to her beautifully toned stomach. You lean forward and kiss right above her naval. Her stomach tensed from the contact and she let out a muted groan. 

“Mm. My Queen. Do you know your power?” You continue laying sloppy kisses on her abs. “Do you see yourself?” She hisses throwing her head back against the chair, closing her eyes tight as her core began to throb. She gripped the arms of the chair. “Ahhh shhhit” She moaned.

You climb into her lap, kissing up her neck. “You’re tense baby. Have you been neglected?”

“E-entle, I-I can’t. We s-said we’d do this the r-right way.” Shuri tried to stand strong on her word, but you would always be her weakness. You bit right underneath her jaw before giving it a peck to ease the pain. 

“Touch me Sweet Lady” you moaned. “Please. I need it.” As if commanded by the sound of your voice both of her hands rose slowly from the arms of the chair, gripping the meat of your ass. The both of you moan out as if you’d waited a life for that exact moment. Shuri gently nudged the side of your head with her chin as you were busy sucking on her neck. The sexiest of bedroom eyes fell on you. 

Trailing your face down to your lips. You took your the hint, leaning in you exchanged breaths before you gave her your mouth. Sharing your first kiss in five years. You pressed into her gripping her shirt. You basked in the feel of he tounge gliding against yours. The walls crumbled. Any doubts about going further going with them. It started off slow and loving. Pecking eachothers lips softly. Slowly the Intensity built with the desire that had grown inside the both of you for months. It became a wet, sloppy, lusty display of affection. 

A groan fell from Shuri’s lips. Pulling away from you looking into those beautiful brown orbs. 

“I’ve lost restraint ubusi. It....it's..um... been a long time.” You pull back a bit searching her eyes. Yours grew in shock as you reached the realization of what she meant.

“Shuri? Have you not..Have you not had sex since we broke up?”

She buried her head into you, a bit embarrassed to say.

“I-I Uh…we… I couldn’t.” She whispered. You felt your core pulsate. Knowing that this gorgeous woman who could have had anyone in the world at her disposal waited for you. It made you want to give her the world. You wanted to please her in every possible way. She belonged to you. And you belonged to her. 

You grabbed ahold of her hands. Intertwining them in yours and placing a sweet kiss to her soft lips. You take one of her hands placing it over your breast. You take the other and place it on your clothed pussy.

“Don’t worry baby. It’s just like riding a bike. I know you still got it.” Shuri’s hand rubbed slowly against your pussy, her other hand squeezing your breast. She left open mouthed kisses all over the exposed skin of your chest, trembling at the feel of you. Your wetness coating her fingers through your panties. Your body was so hot you felt as though you would scorch her lips. Pulling down the lace of your bra, she freed your breast out of its confinement, before flicking her tongue over your nipple. She then began to suckle, moaning at the taste of your skin on her lips again. You roll your hips into her hand. And gripped the back of her neck, head rolling back.

“Oh yes. Just like that. You got it baby.”  You moan.

“You sound so fucking pretty like this.” Shuri whispered as she gave your other nipple some attention. The sound of her voice mixed with the sensation of her mouth on you and her fingers pressing against your clit made your vision blur.

“Fuck..we’re really doing this.” Her eyes were glassed over, trained on the whine of your waist. “We’re d-doing this Shuri. I need you. N-need you to make me feel good”

Her eyes shut tight. A groan of desperation reverberating from her throat. She bit into your nipple and your head lolled back letting out a whine.

“Demethi.” She whispered

Suddeny she was up on her feet with you settled easily in her strong grasp. She carried you the short distance, to a cushioned bench laying you gently onto your back. She stood above you, her sweats dipping low on her hips. The muscles from her hips and pelvic region making a perfect V. You moan at the sight of the African Goddess.

My God, this woman is in love with me? 

You thought to yourself as her hooded eyes stared down at you in admiration. The sight of you must have been erotic. Your breast pulled over the top of your bra, legs spread wide as your fat wet pussy soaked through your panties. As diamonds twinkled against your thigh. 

“Ubuhle bakho bundigqiba amazwi (Your beauty renders me speechless)” 

“Shuri Please baby. I need you. Let me show you how I feel for you.” 

“Patience Phakade lam(My forever). I want to take my time beauty. I’ve waited so long for you to be back in my arms. Let me take my time.” 

She settles herself between your legs, lifting your right leg placing a kiss against the jewlery on your ankle. She kissed, sucked, and licked  down to the garter on your thigh, before biting into the thickness beneath it. Unable to resist. She grasped the garter with her teeth pulling it down your leg maintaining eye contact. Once she got it over your heeled foot she sat up straight dropping it from her mouth. She repeated the same actions on your ungartered leg, except she made her way all the way up to the crotch of your panties. Nuzzling her nose into you. Taking in your smell. You grind your pussy against her face

“Baby please she’s aching. I need you so bad.”

“Turn for me.” You eagerly sit up making a show of turning over onto your stomach for her. You lay flat, and she grabs your hips pulling your ass up, making you arch your back for her. You spread open wide for her and bounced each ass cheek seperatly. Showing off. 

“Bast, so beautiful” She leaned down, pulling the string of the thong and setting it to the side of your ass cheek and spread you wide open. 

“I’ve missed you sphalaphala sam (my pretty one)”

Your hips began to rotate in anticipation. She placed her face between the cheeks of your ass and placed a lick to your needy cunt. 

“YES!” You yell, eager for her mouth on you. You go deeper into your arch. 

“Ooohh that’s what you want pretty girl?”

“Fuck yes Shuri. Please!”

Shuri lapped at your pussy a few more times before taking all of it into her mouth. She moaned at the taste of your wetness as she gripped each side of your thighs, spreading you unforgivingly. Your moans were trapped in your throat as a tear rolled down your cheek. Yes! It was finally happening. You threw your ass back against Shuri’s face as she opened wide, sticking out her deliciously long tongue. Placing it inside of your hole. She fucked you with her tongue as your ass slapped against her face. 

“Mmm. Smother me sthandwa.” She moaned into your pussy.

“Oh my God Shuri. Eat this pussy! Eat it. You better eat this shit! Just like that.! Yeeeessss!” Your praises landed on Shuri’s ears and sent signals directly to her swollen thick clit. She straddled the bench, getting comfortable as she cleaned her plate involuntarily grinding into the seat beneath her.

Her body quivered from the sounds coming from your mouth mixed with the squelching of your cunt. Fuck was she going to cum untouched.

“Uhn, uhn! Shuri! Oh Shuri! I’m gonna cum.”

“Let it go baby! Drown me! Cum on my fucking face!” On command your thighs began to shake and Shuri pressed your ass into her face taking hold to your clit trapping it between her lips. 

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cuuuummiiiiiinng!” You scream as Shuri held you against her as your body convulsed. Trying to fall flat against the bench. Shuri felt herself on the cusp of her own release and quickly removed herself from the bench. Face drenched in your nectar. 

“Stay arched for Nkosazana. Please.” The sexiest groan left her lips. “I need to cum.”

You felt her hips grinding into you desperately from behind, She remained fully clothed much to your dismay. You felt her heavy breath against your neck and you panted along with her. Feeling high from her touch.

She pressed herself up against you. Running her hand up your spine she unclasped your bra with expertise. As she continued rolling her hips. Bending over she began placing kisses along your spine. Her hot breath making your body shiver. She made it up to your collar bones wrapping her arms around you gripping at your breast. She planted sloppy kisses on the back of your neck. Grunting as she grinded making your clit jump aching for her to touch you again

“Shuri baby?”

“Hm.” She groaned as she continued to kiss you.

“Use me. Please use me baby. Make yourself cum on me. Take what you need.”

Without hesitation, Shuri sat up on her knees not bothering to stand to take off her pants and boxers. She pulled them just below her ass and placed her thick swollen clit onto your ass grinding against it as you pressed yourself into her. “AhOooh. Oh Bast.” She moaned deep as her body jerked on contact, her clit sensitive and aching for release. She began thrusting into you with fervor. Face scrunched biting hard into her lip as she selfishly cosintrated on her release.

You reach between your thighs rubbing circles into your clit as Shuri ground her pussy into you. 

“Oh Fuck Shuri! You like how that feels daddy. You like how this thick ass feels against that big clit daddy.” 

“Fuck. Yes! Yes y/n don’t stop. Ah! Keep g-grinding that shit for me uuhhnnn r-right there. Oouu you feel sooo good.” She wound her waist behind you.

“Oouuu Panther, Never. I’ll never stop! I love it when you use me!” 

Shuri gripped the back of your thong with both hands using it as leverage to press you further into her as she leaned her torso back slightly watching you work against her. Her head lulled back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. You could her breathing start to pick up behind you as she began thrusting against you. You arched harder and she gripped the flesh of your ass hard. You knew it would surely leave bruises. She let go of you with one hand getting one of her pants legs off with the other to get a better angle against her clit. She began to spread you open as she concentrated on her nut. That’s when her engorged clit slipped into your folds. Your hungry hole sucking her in. Both of your mouths fell open at the sensation. Shuri’s thrust got impossibly faster as your pussy clenched onto her clit doing kegals. 

A moan attempted to escape Shuri’s lips but it only came out in choked gasps.

“Pretty girl. T-take it eaaaasy on me!” You were insatiable feeling Shuri inside you. Teasing your hole as you rubbed your clit ferociously. It was like nothing either of you had ever experienced before. 

“I want to feel it! I want to feel your pussy cum inside me!”

Shuri felt the pressure building and she could no longer hold it. She reached forward grabbing your locs, bending over to get her clit as deep inside of you as possible.

“You’re s-so fucking nasty. It’s so u-unladylike Entle.”

“I don’t want to be a lady. I want to be your dirty little slut. The Queens whore.” You spit back at Shuri. She let out a low growl, grabbing your hips, slapping her own against yours, fucking into you hard. 

“Bast! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! G-Grip me! Bhaby grip me! I wanna fill that pussy.”

“Yes Shuri yes! Explode in this pussy!”

An animalistic howl left Shuri’s mouth, the sound triggering your own release.“Uuuuuhhhnnn.” She pulled your body up completely by your hair. Pressing you against her. Her hips stuttering and body shaking as she released years worth of cum onto your waiting ass. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.” She mumbled as you continue rubbing your ass against her, wanting to milk her of all her essence. She burried her head into your neck. Still quivering from her release. Both of you collapse onto the bench.

“You Definietly still got it Shuri.” You say breathlessly. You both laugh.

“The Queens whore huh? Oh Thando. You’re in for a long night.” Shuri says. You turn your head around, capturing her lips in a kiss. 

“You waited for me. I have all night tonight and every other night after. Just tell me what you want. Now, I want to taste your cum.” 

Shuri rose to her knees and you turned to face her straddling the bench. You came face to face with Shuri’s pretty brown soaked pussy. 

“So beautiful.” 

You smiled having missed the sight of her thick clit that  jutted out from her pussy lips. You give it a lick and her body jolts. Still sensitive from her orgasam. You give it a few more licks before immersing it with your mouth. Sucking it up and down as if giving her a blow job. Shuri wrapped your locs up in her hand as she gently thrust herself into your mouth.

“Oooh baaaaby.” She groaned. “Just like that. Good fucking job.”

You moan at her taste and encouragement. Your hands travel up her legs caressing her hamstrings. One of your hands continued up finding its way between her thighs. Your middle finger finding its way to her tight hole. 

“Shit. Mtuwam fuck me. Ahh!” It came out in a blissed out whisper as she continued to control the movements of your head.

“Mm, so needy” you moan into her aching twat. Shuri’s eyes were closed her mouth ajar concentrating on the pleasure you were giving her. You watched her abs contract with each thrust as your other hand found it’s way back between your legs. Shuri’s breathing sync’s with her thrust and you knew she was close again. Slurping at her bud you add another finger going a bit faster. Her legs began to tremble and you got ready to drink her sweet nectar. 

“Yes that’s right give me another one Panther. Bless my mouth. You deserve it.” you whined.

“It’s coming baby! Catch it for me!” You opened your mouth wide and flicked your tongue over her clit. 

“Uuuhhh it’s coming baby! It’s -“ Grabbing the back of your head she pressed you into her and her juices splashed onto your tongue and all over your face as you fucked her through it. 

“Ugh it so good! Soso good!” Shuri screams as she let go again. You continue lapping at her getting her all cleaned up. Once she caught her breath she released you from her core. Bending down to place her lips on yours.

“Thank you so much for pulling that out of me. I needed that. Now daddy’s going take over pretty girl.” She smirked. Your core clenched around nothing anticipating Shuri’s next move. 

She motioned you closer to her with her head wanting nothing more than to please the panther, you obeyed. She grabbed your arms wrapping them around her neck, and stood from the bench. Gripping underneath your thighs, wrapping your legs around her waist, she finally shook the other pants leg from her leg and carried you over to the bed. She tapped your ass twice signaling you to stand on the bed, motioning to the chandelier that hung from the mirrored ceiling. You smirked jumping slightly to grasp onto the bar inside. 

“Show me how wide you can open up for me.”  She said as she removed her shirt and sports bra. Finally standing before you completely naked. You spread wide open for her. Revealing your bare and soaking wet cunt. 

“Stay just like that for me.” She pulled up her camera on her Kimoyo beads. “You don’t mind if I take pictures do you?” She stood back watching you. “You just look so beautifully erotic.” Her sensual gaze caused your core to pulse, and you spread wider for her camera.

“Mmm, that’s my girl. Look at how fucking wet you are. Hanging from my pretty Chandelier.” She saunters over to you closer placing her thumb onto your clit. You hiss. 

“This shit is innovative sthandwa. I love your mind.” She said as she rubbed her thumb up and down your sensitive bud. “Let’s play a game. How much longer can you hold on while I taste you? Hm?” She stepped forward placing a kiss directly to your clit. You moan thrusting your pelvis forward chasing her mouth. 

“Oouu look at you. You needed daddy’s mouth?” She didn’t waste anymore time. She dove in with an open mouthed kiss right to your core. You placed your thighs on her shoulders grinding into her face as you literally hang from the ceiling. 

“Oh God! I missed that fucking tongue daddy!” You threw your head back watching the scene play out on the ceiling. She went between sucking your clit and fucking you with her tongue hands free. 

“You taste *slurp* so fucking *slurp* good *pop*” She slapped your ass hard. The stinging pain mixing perfectly with the pleasure she gave.

“Mmm. It’s so good! You’re the fucking best!.”

The longer she went, the more your body began to tense and shake. Concentrating on holding on becoming an after thought along with your hands becoming sweaty. Your hands slipped and Shuri’s panther reflexes came in handy. She caught you by the ass, both of you landing roughly onto the bed. Shuri didn’t miss a beat. Your legs started to close as you got closer to your peak. Shuri slapped the inside of your thigh.

“Be a good girl. Keep them open for me.”

She carressed your thighs as she enjoyed her meal. You spread them wider and she rewarded you with those beautiful long fingers. Pumping in and out of your pulsating hole. 

You look down, watching her long tongue circle your clit, before disappearing inside of you. Her eyes closed savouring your taste as she made your body feel better than it had in years. 

“You feel s-so good Shuri. Ssss so good.”

Shuri curved her fingers hitting your spot, she opened her mouth wide using her entire tongue to place over the entire length of your clit pressing against it putting the perfect amount of pressure. Moving her head up and down. She looked up at you as she worshipped your pussy. Your back arched pressing against her more. Your legs began to shake. Your hands reach between your legs and to the top of Shuri’s head. Her movements became short and choppy knowing you were close. 

“Give it to me gorgeous. I’m thirsty.” She demanded.

You gasp. Pressing her further into you as your body began to quake. “Mmmm baby baby baby!” You shout over and over, gasping for air as you cream heavily onto Shuri’s face. 

“Mmhmm, mhmm, Let it out.” She pulled back after you stop shaking taking a look at her work. Watching the cream leak from you. 

“I missed you pretty girl.” She spoke into your pussy nudging it with her nose before diving back in to clean her up. “Thank you for keeping me hydrated mama.”

She kissed up your body now hovering over you. “And thank you for letting me taste her again. I promise she’ll never want for a thing.”

Your juices sat on Shuri’s face, dripping from her chin. Her eyes, blown and focused. You opened your mouth and she smiled, opening her own and sticking out her tongue. You lift up sucking your juices from her tongue, and cleaning her face with your own. She lay between your legs grinding up against you as the two of you share your juices in a kiss. 

“I need to fuck you now baby. Can you give me more. I want to make you cum all night.” Her breath against your ear sent tingles down your spine and there was nothing you wouldn’t do for her in that moment.

“Please. Please fuck me.” Before you knew it Shuri had plucked one of her Kimoyo beads from her bracelet, placing it against her twat. She tapped it and it expanded into her wide curved strap. She places one of your legs on her shoulder slowly entering you with a groan.

“Ohhh Shuriiiiii”

She enters you in one smooth push, making you gasp like a virgin on her first time. Lovingly, she looks into your eyes, and begins to fuck you into oblivion. She knows... instinctively knows...what you need. She whispers into your ear, "Ooooh y/n…...I'm going to cum in your pussy.” The notion fills you.  All you want is her cum. At this moment she could talk you into having her baby.

“I missed this. Uhn, being inside of you. The f-feeling of you g-gripping me. So wet, so fucking  tight.”

She rolled her hips one of your legs on her shoulder the other around her waist. Tears began running down your cheeks. Speechless. Your pussy was so sensitive. Shuri kissed the tears from your cheeks as she continued to thrust inside of you. Your moans of pleasure her motivation.

“So pretty, such a pretty pretty sound. The prettiest song you’ve ever made.”

Her thrust started to speed up. “I want more of it.” She took the leg from around her waist placing it on her other shoulder and sat up on her knees. She was completely in control, as she gripped your hips bouncing you on her dick allowing deep penetration. You moan salaciously "Fuck me....fuck me deeper!" She pounds you banging hard into you. You were so out of it in your pleasure that you hadn’t noticed Shuri moving you two up the bed until your back hit the headboard. 

“Damnit Shuri I c-can’t! I c-can’t take it! Too gooooood! Sooo deep!” Her thrust made your words staccato as you did your best to fuck back into her. 

“Yes you can. You’re taking this shit baby. Taking me so well.” One of her arms was straight out holding onto the headboard as her other assisted in bouncing you into her. 

“Shuriiiiiii!!!” You yell as the pleasure became overwhelming. This caused her to press into you deeper pausing to feel your pussy squeezing against her. She slowed down. Choosing slow hard strokes, so you could feel all of her. You were full out crying now. A delirious mess.

“That’s right baby cry for me. The only tears I want to see. This pussy is mine now. Nobody else can have my pussy..”

You tried to reply but it only came out as gibberish. “I want to hear you baby. Who’s pussy is this?” You gather up strength to reply.

“YOURS PANTHER!!” She gives another slow and hard stroke. “What’s my name?!” Your head fell to her shoulder as tears continued to pour. “Uuuggghhh.” Your moan came out in a gurgle.”

Shuri’s hand that had been on the wall was now around your throat. “Uhuh. I asked you a question. What’s. My. Fucking. Name?” She punctuated each word with a thrust. 

“AhhhUuuuhhhhnn!” You screamed. “SHURI!!”

“All of it b-baby! Say your wife’s name.”

“AAAAAja-A-A Adanna SSSShuri FUCKING UDAKUUU!”

“That’s a g-good f-fucking girl.” She praises against your lips.

Dazed and fucked out you began to speak gibberish. Spewing out whatever came to mind and Shuri replied the two of your foreheads pressed together lips ghosting over one another’s, as the two of you reached your peaks.

“I don’t ever wanna leave.”

“You don’t have too”

“I wanna have your b-babies”

“We can have as many as you want.”

“You fuck me so good”

“I’ll fuck you like this everyday for the rest of our lives”

“Uhn God your so sexy”

“And I’m all yours Entle.”

“Ooouuuu I’m cuuuummmmiinnng.”

You feel her body stiffen and know she will cum too. Finally she groans, "Oh y/n....I'm cumming with you!" Deep inside, you feel the cum shooting into you, and it tips you over the edge. You cum savagely, squirting onto Shuri’s strap, and your world shattered into bright shards of light and colour. Shuri had captured your mouth as the two of you came both of your moans and groans of pleasure shooting down eachothers throats. Shuri’s hips continued to stutter inside of you as she gave slow less powerful thrust. Your head lolled down onto her shoulder, as the two of you slide down the head board.

Your body was spent and you were dozing. You hadn’t been fucked that good since you and Shuri broke up. Just quick sessions of huffs and puffs until Mike got his. Leaving you to fend for yourself. She fucked you so good you could suck your thumb. 

“Sthandwa, let me hear you.” Shuri said after a moment of recuperation. All you could manage was a hum. Her hand came to the top of your head massaging your scalp as you lay on top of her body.

“Uthando Iwami lungangolwandle. Impilo yami ngeke ibe lutho ngaphandle kwakho, Ndiyakuthanda.” (My love for you is greater than the ocean. My life is nothing without you. I love you)

“I love you too Shuri. My dear Aja-Adana.” Shuri lifted her head kissing your forehead.

“Thando?”

“Hm.”

“Can you give me one more?” Your body was screaming at you. Bone achingly tired, and your pussy was at capacity. But you wanted nothing more than to continue making love to Shuri. So you rolled over onto your back and spread your legs for her. She sat up, looking down at you as if you were the worlds most precious gift. 

“Awusemhle (You’re beautiful)” Your tired eyes looked up into hers that had glazed over. She bent down placing a kiss to your tired sloppy cunt, and you jerk at how sensitive you are. She gave loving licks to your pussy. Doing her best to ease the ach before getting your last orgasam from you. 

“One second.” She got up and headed to the closet. When she came back she held in her hand a double sided dildo. “Can you take it mtuwam?” You didn’t know. But you were definitely going to try. You held out your hand to her and she placed the toy inside. You lubricated the toy with your mouth and slowly inserted it into your aching hole.

Shuri’s eyes lowered as she watched you pump it slowly in and out. She crawled over to you, and sat legs open wide. She pulled you closer to her by the backs of your knees, and placed your legs over top of hers, inserting her end of the dildo.

“Ahhhhh” you both let out satisfied moans as the two you began moving your hips, your clits kissing as you meet in the middle. Shuri wrapped her arms around your waist, and you wrapped your arms around her neck. Moans and groans resounded throughout the room over the music that was now Victoria and Kehlani crooning about wanting to be touched. You could relate. Hands probing and carressing every inch of eachothers body as you bounced against Shuri’s lap. Your bodies dripped with sweat, intertwined, moving against eachother like well oiled machines. You leaned back so that she could get a better view of your beautiful breast bouncing. She leaned forward catching one in her mouth, bitting into your nipple and then running her tounge in a circle around it before sucking, and repeating with the other one. 

She pulled you up placing her head in the crook of your neck. Biting licking and sucking. At some point it all stopped and the two of you could only focus on the feel of eachothers bodies this close to eachother again. You had found your way back into eachothers arms. When Shuri pulled back, you both recognized the stain of tears streaming down eachothers cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry I ever hurt you.” She choked out with a sob. Your hands cupped the back of her neck as you brought your foreheads together. “Thank you baby. Thank you for giving me another chance. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“I know Shuri. I know.“ Shuri’s hips began to move faster in a circular motion. Sighing, moaning, and crying the two of you were experiencing a pleasure neither of you had felt before. It was otherworldly. Your lips ghosted over eachothers breath combining as you made love. 

“Bast. You feel so good. I don’t ever want to loose you y/n. Be mine again. Please baby. L-let me call y-you mine. Shit!”

“Aaahh! I’m already yours Shuri. I belong to you.” Shuri’s pussy squeezed the dildo and she took control. Fucking you harder. 

“Oh Shuri! Im about to cum. Cum with me!”

“Mm Mm. Not yet. Let go now baby. I’ll join your next one.” 

Your body couldn’t hold it you released hard all over the toy. Shuri gripped your waist harder not stopping.

“SH - SH-SHURI!!! I-I can’t! OOOOOHHHH GOOOODDDUUUHHH!!! I can’t cum anymooore”

Shuri grabbed your neck continuing fucking herself on the dildo as it also stroked your sensitive inside. She nodded. “You can take it, Entle. You’ve been wanting me to fuck this pretty pussy for a while now. Let me get the big one out of you!” Your mouth was frozen open tears pouring down your face. The look on your face had Shuri ready to explode. She could no longer hold it. 

“Come on baby! Finish for me. You can do it! I’m cumming y/n! Pull it out of me!” An intense pressure built up inside the two of you as the sun rose over the horizon, and the both of you reached your final explosive climax’s.

“UuuuhhhAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!” You let out a guttural scream as your body convulsed and squirted.

“FUUUUUUCCCKKKK, Fuuucck, Fuuuuuckkk!!!!” Shuri groaned as her own juices splashed against yours. You both reached down rubbing your hand quickly side to side over your clits, juices still flowing splattering all over eachother. 

The two of you collapsed, seperating from eachother; but, covered in eachothers cum.

“We should take a shower.” Shuri said after slightly coming down from her high.

“I can’t move.” You say half dead. Shuri laughs. She sits up grabbing a blanket from the end of the bed. She grabbed your hands pulling you up, wrapping your arms around her neck. And bringing you over to a dry side of the bed. She wrapped you both in the blanket as you intertwined your legs with hers lying on her chest. 

“The suns coming up.” You say.

“I noticed. I guess we got a bit carried away.” She chuckles

“A little.” You join her.

“Sthandwa.”

“Ewe.” Shuri smiled at your use of her native language, before turning serious. 

“He cannot have you any longer. I mean that.” She grabbed your chin lifting it so that you could look at her. “The marriage is done. Time is up. You are mine and I want you here with me.” You smile, placing your bottom lip into your mouth. 

“And here is the only place I want to be.” You say before the two of you drift into a peaceful sleep.

Click, Click 

The sun blared into the room. Soft music still playing over the speakers. Shuri lie flat on her back, as you lie betwixt her legs, head resting on her naked stomach. The room was blurry as you streched opening your eyes. Your movement caused Shuri to stir beneath you, her grip tightening around your upper back. You lift your head to rub your eyes when the back of your head was met with cold steel. Your heart fluttered, as you turned your head only to be met with a familiar silhouette. 

“Shuri.. Shuri baby..” You call out tapping her side frantically as tears began to form. 

“Don’t be scared now, Waka. You disrespectful cunt.”

Shuri’s eyes popped open, at the sound of the male voice inside of her room. 

“What the fu-“ She came face to face with your husbands calm demeanor. As he held a pistol to the back of your head. The anger in his eyes unmistakeable. Her eyes found your panicked ones looking up to her with sheer terror. Your breathing was erratic, and your palms began to sweat.

“Be calm Thandiwe. You are safe with me.” Calm, steady, not an ounce of fear, could be detected in her tone. 

“You are a smart man Mr. Addai. Atleast that’s what I gathered from my extensive research.” Shuri brought her hands up to rest underneath her head. Her small perky breast exposed, however she was unfazed. Mike brought the gun up to her quickly. 

“I already have a bullet in the chamber. I suggest you not move a muscle.”

“Relax. What are you afraid of? You’ve got the upper hand. The gun, the element of surprise. We’re only two women. What are we going to do?” Staring Shuri down, he kept the gun, and his attention on her. “Ubusi, go fix me and your husband a drink, and bring my robe. Cover yourself, your body is no longer his to see.” 

Mike began to move the gun back to your head and Shuri quickly reached up grabbing the barrel, placing it back onto  her.

“Ah ah on me oo.” She looks him dead in the eye, She acknowledges you again only with her words. “Do as I say my love.” You instantly get up from the bed taking the covers with you revealing Shuri’s naked, cum stained body. His eyes followed you as you scurried off of the bed.

“Don’t even think about it.” She whispered, bringing his attention back to her. His eyes trailed Shuri’s beautiful toned, cum stained body. “Excuse, the mess. We got a little carried away and passed out. So much cum. Have you ever made her cum? Didn’t seem like it last night.”

“You talk a lot of shit for a bitch with a gun to her head.” 

Shuri chuckles. “Common sense. It betrays you Michael. What was your plan? To walk armed into the home of the Queen of a nation, quote undetected end quote, into an unguarded room. Hold a gun to my babes head, and somehow make it out alive to take her home?” She once again chuckles. “Did it not feel wrong when you walked the halls and not one guard or Dora spotted you? And here I believed you where at the very least a critical thinker.” Shuri cocked her head to the side, sizing him up. “We all but rolled out the red carpet for you. Idiot.” She whispered. Fear resonated behind his eyes, they darted from side to side now searching for Shuri’s henchmen.

Demure in the presence of the Queen, now clothed in your robe you approach her with her own, and the drinks that she’d requested. Composed and unafraid she stood to her feet without warning.

“I said don’t move!” Michael screamed, clearly unnerved. You place the drinks on the table beside the bed, and Shuri turns her back to you as you hold her robe open, so that she could ease it on. Shuri side eyed Mike, amused at his irratic behavior. Choosing not to acknowledge him at the moment, she placed a finger underneath your chin.

“Enkosi, Bambo'lwami. Be a good girl for me and stay out of the way.” She spoke sweetly as she placed a sweet kiss to your lips. Your gaze met hers adoringly. Even in imminent danger, she made you feel as though you were the only ones in the room, making your body react to her. You nod, “Whatever you want, baby.” It came out more seductively than you intended, and Shuri smirked, raising a brow. You turned to walk away and she bit into her lip.

“I’m going to have fun with that later. You smell that?…” Shuri sniffed the air. “That’s her arousal.” Shuri smirked. Picking up her drink from the table. 

“Fuck you!” Mike yells, Shuri cringed.

“I think not.” She says, cooly taking a sip.

“My problem is not with you.”

“I bet it isn’t.”

 “You saw an opportunity and you took it.”

“Is that what I did?”

“I’m leaving here with my wife.” Shuri stepped forward into his gun, the barrel between her eyes.

“I wish the fuck you would.” Mike took a shakey breath and In the blink of an eye straightened his arm out to the side pointing it towards you, letting out a shot. You scream falling to the floor, and Shuri took the thick glass and shattered across Mikes face. Dora rushed into the room. “Take her! I’ll handle him.” Shuri’s attention now lie on the groaning man on the floor. She bent down to his level, gripping him by the neck.

“I hear you like to fight women. Fight me.” Her demeanor was still calm as she spoke. Mikes face scrunched in pain. 

“Come oooon now. No way way my little weak woman blow has you out already? Big strong man. Goooriiiillaaa!” Her laugh was sinister as she placed her face close to his, scrunching her eyes in faux confusion as he tried backing away from her.

“No? Nothing? Mchht, Demethi! I was wrong about you! I thought this would be fun! But you are truly pathetic.” She picked him up by his neck walking out onto her balcony hanging his body over the side.

“No! Please!” He screamed. Grabbing onto her robe for dear life.

“Please. Please he says.” His body thrashed under the strength of the Panther. Tears streaming from his eyes. “And he’s crying? My God! This is embarrassing for you. I see why that beauty downstairs made you so insecure.”

“Please just let me go.” Shuri raised a brow smiling. “Well if that’s what you want.” Panicked gasps left his lips as Shuri pretended to drop him. “Nononono! GAAHD!” 

“You should be more specific with your requests Michael.” She held him a bit further over the edge. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to go ahead and take my lady off your hands. You obviously can’t don’t no what you’re doing, so she’s mine now baby boy.”

“I honestly couldn’t have done it without you. All of the odds were in your favor, you had the power to make her never want to see me again. But you were negligent with a prize. Intimidated by her value. You brought her right back to me. And for that….” She pulled him up throwing him to the ground infront of her. “I’ll let you live. You are of no threat to me, and you can watch her be treated like the queen she’ll be.”

“The me before would have thrown you from the balcony, gutted you, and fed you to the lions. But I’m better now. And I’ll admit. I lied. This was fun. Now get out of my house.” Mike scrambled to his feet. Piss staining the front of his pants, bleeding from the side of his head as he rushed past Shuri, while she followed him out. 

“Ikumkaziwam!” A Dora called out as they reached the top of the stairs trying to get Shuri’s attention. “Give me a moment to see him out of my home.”

“Y/n was hit by the bullet my Queen.” Instantly it felt as though the walls started to close in on her. Everything started to move in slow motion. The front doors opened and in ran your mother and your sister right as Shuri gave Mike a swift kick causing him to tumble down the stairs

“Where’s my sister?! Where’s my fucking sister?!” Mike reached the bottom of the stairs and Dani was on him immediately. 

“You been putting your hands on my sister nigga! You shot my sister!” She screamed and threw punches to the unconcious man’s face. Your mother tried to pull Dani off of Mike but she was relentless. Shuri snapped out of her shock long enough to get to Dani pulling her off of him. 

“He’s out Dani! He’s gone! Let me take you to your sister!” Dani pulled and tugged against Shuri trying to get herself out of her grip and Shuri let go. Dani snatched away, turning to Shuri placing a finger in her face. 

“Don’t fucking touch me! This shit is on you!” She turned. “Somebody take me to my sister!” A Dora stepped in leading Dani to where you were. 

“FUUUUUUUUCK!!!” Shuri yelled falling to her knees in tears. 

“Pick yourself up little girl.” The voice of your mother came from over top of Shuri.

“I-I’m sorry.” Your mother shook her head. “Danielle is upset and irrational. You have nothing to apologize for. You know that.” Shuri sniffled.

“Yes mama I know.”

She bent to Shuri’s level grabbing her chin. “All you’ve done is love my baby. And you would never cause her harm. That’s why I called you to come get her. I knew you were ready. You’re not here for Dani or anyone else. You’re here for y/n. So get up.. and go be with her.” Shuri nodded standing to her feet. 

Shuri entered the medical area of her lab inside of the house. She’d thrown on some sweats and a tshirt and rushed to your side. Bruno, your mom, and sister all surrounded you as She approached, seeing you lying unresponsive an open wound to your belly. “I’m sooo sorry sthandwa. I’m going to make this right. I promise.” She whispered standing over you, a sob breaking from her lips.

“Oh yea? And how do you plan on doing that?” Your sister glared at Shuri across from her. “Dani, now isn't the time for this.” Your mother interjects. “Then when is the time!? She shouldn't be here! Standing here acting hurt like she didn't cause my sister just as much pain as Mike did! It may not have shown up physically but you did just as much if not more damage and you couldn't fix that. So just how the fuck do you think you’re gonna fix this your highness!”

Your mother opened her mouth prepared to intervene, only to be interupted by Shuri. “Dani, I’m aware of what I did. I’ve received my karma everyday i had to wake up with her not next to me. I don't want any trouble. Your sister has forgiven me. And I hope in time you can too. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The room was silenced. The Queen had spoken. She held onto your hand. Leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“It’s time to get up baby. This isn’t where our story ends.”

It was approaching midnight in Wakanda as Shuri stood outside of the river tribes village. People lined the streets dancing and chanting holding there sage and torches. Her eyes were misty, as Nakia, Toussaint, Okoye, and M’Baku stood steps behind her in support

“Usisi, they are ready for you.” Nakia says placing an encouraging hand onto Shuri’s back.

Shuri walked forward, watching her people celebrate the woman she loved. Tears finally fell as she thought back on all the time she’d wasted. The years the two of you could’ve spent had she not hurt you. The memories lost. You had always been a beckon of light for her, even when she couldn’t be near you. Your mere existence had brung her hope. Whether you knew it or not, you were the reason for the difference Shuri had made in the world. You’d made an immutable change in her life and she would forever be grateful. As Shuri reached the end of the alter she was met with the Elders.

“Ikumkazi wam, come.” The Merchant tribe elder stepped forward beckoning Shuri to her.

Shuri stepped forward and turned towards the crowd. 

“Citizens of Wakanda, I Elder of the merchant tribe present to you Queen Shuri Udaku the Black Panther.”

Shuri gave her warriors salute and kneeled before the crowd. Their arms crossed over there chests in Salute to their Queen. The elder stepped aside, welcoming you and your family as you stepped forward in your traditional Wakandan garb.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”The elder speaks up. “Tomorrow you will bare that weight, once conjoined  with our beloved Queen and Panther. Today her shoulders are strong, mighty. As a gracious gift from bast runs through her veins. But she will not always carry the strength of the Black Panther. Tonight we test your willingness to bare the weight with your lover.”

Another elder steps forward handing you a wooden bowl with a deep iridescent purple liquid. 

“Now my dear you will place this to your loves lips and strip away the powers of the Black Panther.” Slowly you walk up to Shuri who gave you a reassuring smile.

“Will it hurt?” You say concern filling your voice. Shuri looks up to you.

“My love, you don’t need to be concerned for me. I will be fine.” She reaches out squeezing your hand reassuringly. 

With that, you place the liquid to her lips and she sips. 

It immediately takes effects, veins poping from her forehead and neck, her teeth clenching, and brows furrowing. The people closed their eyes bouncing their shoulders to beat of the drums as Shuri groans in agony. As fast as it started it was over. She gave herself a second and stood to her feet, as the girl you met in your dorm several years ago. She’d grown her hair back. Once again rocking the curly top that you loved so dearly. Love filled her gaze as she took your hand. This was who you loved Not the Queen of Wakanda, not the Black Panther just Shuri. 

She led you forward as the dancing and chanting began to start again your families combining behind you as she led you to the river. The two of you stopped at the edge the water, it tickling the tips of your toes before you turn your heads locking eyes adoringly before Shuri nods her head in reassurance. Together the two of you step into the water submerging yourselves in the blessed water. 

People came, baring gifts of fruits and herbs to anoint your union as the full moon reached its peak. The Elders reached their hands out to you praying for the success of your marriage and reign as Queens of Wakanda.

You leaned forward, foreheads touching as Shuri’s hands snaked around your waist, your arms wrapped around her neck. And you heard her sniffles.

“They’re here Shuri. They’re watching. And they are proud.” She lifted her head allowing herself to be proud.

“I’m so exited to live the rest of my life with you bambo’lwami.” Your smile gave the moon a run for its money. 

“I’m so glad you said yes.”

Shuri believed in the green light, the orgasmic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter- tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther ... So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

#Spotify #shuri fic #princess shuri #shuri fanfiction #shuri smut #shuri imagine #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #shuri black panther #shuri angst #shuri x you #shuri

[sheadre]

Phantom of the Opera (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader) Chapter Six

Summary: Lady (Name) Granville, daughter and only heir of Duke Granville just arrived back for this season from her tour in Europe. However, she came back to London with a secret. And it seems Anthony Bridgerton just found out that secret.

Word count: 1116

Warnings: fluff, romance, angst

It took you by surprise when Lord Vincent de Trafford appeared at your door. He was one of the eligible bachelors interested in finding a wife this season. You danced with him once and he was likeable. But he was no Anthony Bridgerton. You hated yourself for still thinking about him just like now, when you were standing in front of Lord Trafford. As you looked up at him, you had to strain your neck but his bright smile made you forget about it.

“Lady Granville, I asked Lady Danbury if I could join the two of you to promenade in Hyde Park today with my mother and younger sister.”

His deep voice was caressing your ears as he spoke. His smile was so bewitching, everyone was smitten with him but lately during all the balls since he and his family arrived, his attention seemed to be solely on you. His presence drew everyone’s attention especially because of his mysterious background no one really knew about.

Your heart flattered in your chest as you tried to find the words of agreement.

“And I agreed to it.” your aunt walked out from the drawing room. “Are you ready, my dear? Ophelia and Margaret are waiting for us outside.”

With a simple nod, you intertwined your arm with your aunt and let her lead you to the carriage outside. Lady Danbury seemed like she had a plan in her mind because the other day she was warning you about Lord Trafford and now she was ready to let him close to you. The ride to the park was filled with small talk and you tried to pay attention to it so you could respond respectfully to any questions asked. Getting out of your head was quite hard these days.

After Sienna asked you to give up your dreams, you thought over her reasons and left the theatre. Ever since then, you felt numb. The only thing you truly enjoyed in life was taken from you because of your simple existence. Having responsibilities you never asked for but was forced into, made you feel bitter. Your anger soon died out, however, leaving only numbness behind. It has always been like that. You got angry quickly but it just as quickly snuffed out and you accepted how things were. Reality hit you hard that way sometimes but that is life and one has to move on if they want to experience other things as well.

Once you arrived at Hyde Park, you felt relieved, the carriage was crowded with all five of you inside besides, you were still not used to Lord Trafford. He was a stranger after all. Your eyes widened at that. Wasn’t Anthony a stranger as well in that sense?

“Lady Granville, we haven’t had time to talk ever since the play-hunt.” Lord Trafford smiled gently down at you. “How are you fairing? Have you read anything interesting lately?”

“Actually I quite enjoyed the latest poems of Lord Kershaw. He is a unique talent.” you replied. “Do you enjoy poetry or do you prefer novels?”

“It depends on the author. It is not the genre but the style that piques my interest.” he said as he stared ahead, Lady Danbury and his family behind the pair of you. The weather was nice, there were only a few white puffy clouds in the blue sky. This environment felt peaceful like this. You didn’t need to be on guard by Lord Trafford’s side, you didn’t need to think about ulterior motives.

Then, as you listened to Lord Trafford’s musings about literature, your eyes landed on three familiar figures in the distance. Benedict Bridgerton was telling his brothers about his latest story when your eyes met with Anthony’s. His brown eyes were trained on you, his smile that lighted up his handsome face by the funny story only brightened when your eyes met his. Your heart skipped a beat and you quickly turned your head avoiding further eye contact.

He only made your life miserable so far, you shouldn’t be spending even just a second thinking about him. As you walked with Lord Trafford and his family, you slowly seemed to ease into a tranquil conversation. Your heart slowed down its pace and small smiles and chuckles left your lips when the lord made a few jokes.

Your group found a perfect spot for your picnic, sandwiches and small cakes were passed while conversation flowed. Then suddenly, a ball hit the back of your head making you spill tea on your dress as you sat on the blanket.

“Hyacinth!” a familiar voice cried out partially from anger. You looked back still in surprise to see little Hyacinth standing a distance away, staring at you in fear. Then came running up to her a frustrated looking Anthony Bridgerton with furrowed eyebrows. He crouched down to her level, said something to her and then held her hand and led her toward your group.

You stayed put, your heart beating so rapidly in your chest at the sight of Anthony you thought it would jump right out of your body. He greeted everyone with a dashing smile and then looked to Hyacinth and encouraged her to apologise.

“Hyacinth came here to apologise for being careless when playing, right Hyacinth?”

As you looked at him, your mind was filled with thoughts of how much Anthony looked like a father. Shaking your head a little to clear your head, you smiled at them and listened to Hyacinth’s apology. She looked ready to burst into tears, her lips pouted and her cheeks grew red.

“I-I… I’m really sorry!” she cried out and then hid behind Anthony’s legs. You smiled at her and reached out for her to grab your hands.

“It is quite alright, darling, no harm was done. Are you alright as well?”

Hyacinth seemed to calm down seeing your reaction and soon she was sitting in your lap. Then Lady Danbury spoke up:

“Lord Bridgerton, why are you not joining us?”

There was a pause in the air, then he cleared his throat and said: “I would not want to impose on-”

“Brother, you shouldn’t say no to a lady when she invited you herself.” Benedict Bridgerton clapped his hand on Anthony’s shoulder with a wide grin on his face. Lady Danbury laughed and motioned for you to move over to her side. Benedict pushed Anthony down next to you before his brother could protest. It was way too obvious that Lady Danbury and Benedict Bridgerton were in on something but you couldn’t help but focus on the close proximity you found yourself in with Anthony.

You knew you were doomed.

To be continued…

#romance #fluff #angst #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Never Whole Again

Sherlock’s been dead for months. Literally. John’s been dead for months too. Not literally. He doesn’t exactly live either. Exists if he must put a word on it. The grief shouldn’t still be as raw as it was when he realised that Sherlock had no pulse, laying on the pavement outside Barts. Doesn’t matter what everyone tells him. That it’ll get better. Less raw. More faded.

“Faded, my arse!” John had shouted at whoever told such a ludicrous lie.

The love of John’s life was dead and buried, alongside with John’s heart and soul. He felt like an empty shell, and he knew he could never be whole again. The love he felt for Sherlock was all-consuming and no one could ever replace him. John still kicked himself several times a day for never telling Sherlock exactly that. To Sherlock, John was his friend, nothing more.

When Philip Anderson’s campaign, I believe in Sherlock Holmes, made it to the papers, John was indifferent. Easy for Anderson to say now, wasn’t it. He never seemed to have believed anything Sherlock had said or done when he was alive. Paying tribute to him now seemed like hypocrisy to John. He believed in Sherlock. Always had. Until it was too late.

***

When the restlessness becomes too much to bear, John writes to Sherlock. For some reason Sherlock’s email account isn’t deleted, and John’s emails are never returned, so he continues to write. What he writes, varies. It can be anecdotes about Mrs. Hudson, customers at Asda, John’s nightmares, crimes he’s read about in the papers or watched on the news, the latest Bond film, or new knowledge he’s learned from QI. He writes poems too. All of which circles around Sherlock.

The solar system wasn’t important you said

I thought you were a pompous arse saying that

You’d be glad to know I finally agree with you

What significance does it have now when you’re not here to mock it?

Who cares if the Sun moves around in space now?

Not me. Not anymore

You called me your conductor of light

I never told you what you were to me

If I were the Sun, you were the Moon

You appeared cool and bright

You shone just as much as the Sun

The moonlight broke when you died

It went out just like the light in your eyes did

And I’ve been wandering in the dark ever since

Until the day I die, I’ll never see such a light again

John’s mentally exhausted after finishing and sending the poem. It’s his last email, because two days later the light returns to John’s life. Sherlock’s broken in many ways, but John’s determined to heal him, to love him, and to never doubt him again.

I guess I needed to write a bit of angst in between all the fluffiness of Fluffbruary. Sorry, not sorry!

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @peanitbear @raina-at @7-percent @ninasnakie @sabsi221b

#flash fiction friday #sherlock fandom #john watson #sherlock #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #FFF240 #broken moonlight #post reichenbach

[batbabydamian]

question- do you mind doing fic recs? And if so, do you have any good fics centered around Dick and Damian's relationship? In particular anything that plays with their whole "I'm your brother but also your father/son but not but yes" thing they've got going on? If you see this thank you, you're doing the lord's work <3

anon if you’re still out there, thank you for your patience and hope you enjoy these! there’s MANY Dick&Damian fics i love so i tried to limit it to the “im your brother AND kinda your dad but not really” dynamic!!

3:16 by partingxshot

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

i think every Dick & Damian enthusiast has read this lol it may be ongoing but its latest chapter is left on a very satisfying end for an arc!! 

an endless road to rediscover by littlearrows

In the months before Mar'i is born, Dick and Damian take a cross-country road trip together.

if you enjoyed the Dick and Damian tension from Nightwing (2016) #16-20 you might like this! :’) encouraging everyone to read those issues tbh

to be human by newsical

None of his Gotham acquaintances look upon his old life favorably — this, Damian knows. Was his life not noble before? Damian feels like a waterboarded gnat, swirling towards a drain. Gently, as though he has not ripped out Damian’s stomach with his teeth, Alfred says, “Attempting to take his father’s place won’t work, Master Richard…” Their voices peter out, and the last thing Damian can hear is Richard huff and say something that sounds like, “No shit,” and he is alone. Somewhere, a clock ticks. Damian pictures it melting. (Dick and Damian over the years.)

lovely dive into Damian’s personal growth and his relationship with Dick!! reading the poem that inspired the fic, especially again after finishing the fic is a nice touch!

Do You Feel the Way My Past Aches? by fishfingersandjellybabies

Bruce finds a wayward Damian asleep on his couch. Dick then find them both. An unexpected conversation ensues.

a tender Bruce perspective on the dynamic! “Bruce thought back to watching them work, Dick the master of the spotlight and Damian his perfect shadow.” THEM

When You're The One Who's Loved by fishfingersandjellybabies

Damian doesn’t understand why Dick is so upset. Tim does, though.

SO SOFTT ykw just go thru all of this writer's Dick & Damian fics they just exude love and warmth!!

Tea for Two by StormLeviosa

Their apartment is full of smiles now. It is because of Pennyworth, he is sure. Damian did not realise how much he'd missed Pennyworth until he came back. He slotted into their little family like the puzzle piece you do not know is missing. It was pleasant, having a grandfather he did not need to fear, and Pennyworth was all that and more.

part of a series, but easily read as a standalone. they’ve given up the vigilante life and DOMESTIC DICK & DAMIAN + ALFRED!! WHOLESOME!! i also enjoy the other Damian installments of the series, fun explorations of his interests/skills like violin!! and animals (going to vet school!!)

Pop-tarts and orange juice by Ididloveyou_once

‘Do you ever wish that Father had actually died?’ ‘Never.’ And despite the vehemence with which Richard says the word, Damian thinks that he might be lying. But only because he hates himself for the truth. Or: Bruce has been back from the dead for three months. Damian doesn’t know how to feel. He does know that he misses his da- Richard. They talk about it… Sort of.

"He wants to tell him that nothing compares to being Robin at his side. To being Damian at his side." WAILING

The Weight of Legacy by DawnsEternalLight

Damian didn’t think. He didn’t have to, protecting Richard was instinct by now. Darting forward right into the arc of Crane’s scythe as it aimed for his partner’s neck was as familiar to him as breathing, etched into his DNA. For if he lost Richard again, how could he continue to exist?  The man was not only his firmest tie to Batman’s mantle, now that Father was home and clashing with Damian, but at some point during their partnership he had inexorably woven himself into Damian’s very being. Through training, and lessons, and quiet nights filled with ice cream. Patience and love–a thing Damian had not hoped to find here when he’d first set foot on American soil.  To lose Richard would be akin to losing a limb. And so Damian acted as if that were true. He wove protection of his mentor, Batman, sibling, into every action he took and refused to accept failure as an option.

"We Both Know You're The Last of the Graysons" as a fic prompt is wild...that panel never fails to make me cry... also, another writer with an abundance of fantastic Dick & Damian fics!!

Emergency Contact by DawnsEternalLight

Damian: Apologies for the intrusion into your day, Richard. I need you to pick me up from the gallery trip early, it seems I have been stabbed. Dick blinked down at the message then read it again. And again. His brain not quite processing the words staring up at him, backlit by the phone.

this ventures bit more into parent Dick Grayson, as in Damian explicitly calling Dick his dad at the end but it's a fun fic!! that preview always cracks me up LOL

The Stowaway by LittleLadybugs

There's a cat in the penthouse. Fortunately, Alfred has yet to find out. Now to keep it that way. OR Dick tries his best to parent Damian. Damian tries his best, period. They’re both a bit clumsy, but they’ve got the spirit. There might be a cat Meow ᓚᘏᗢ 💙💚

smiling and laughing through this whole fic THEY ARE SO SILLY I LOVE THEM

as love carries its strength, but not its labels by AlterHarpia

Bruce is on a trip beyond Earth’s Solar System for longer than he intended, making Dick and Damian fall into an old pattern. “I'm not Batman.” A mere reminder, perhaps, but when said to Damian it always sounds like an apology.

basically them putting into words their own funky lil dynamic!!

Let The Right One In by whaleofatime

Hot on the trail of Deadshot threatening mayhem in Japan, Dick and Damian find themselves going undercover as a father-son duo on House Hunters International. Deadshot won't be the only source of chaos in Tokyo this summer, and Dick's only a little apologetic.

okok kinda cheating here since they’re just undercover as dad and son lol BUT it’s such a fun read of the duo on a Japan trip (mission)!

the primacy of personal conscience by birdsofthesoul

"WHAT MAKES IAGO EVIL? some people ask. I never ask." — Joan Didion, Play It as It Lays Or: Dick, his family, and the moral morass of a wishing well.

cheating again bc plot not focused on Dick and Damian’s relationship, but it’s there! really enjoyed the characterizations and dynamics here!!

soft clocks by dustorange

Side effects of being revived by Lex Luthor may include amnesia, going undercover into a high-level espionage agency, not recognizing your family, fighting your family, and dealing with the emotional weight and guilt associated with encountering said family. Ask your doctor if being revived by Lex Luthor is right for you. (a.k.a. Dick has amnesia during his time at Spyral. The family grapples with finding out he's alive. Dick grapples with finding out he has a family. Inspired by this post by bigskydreaming.)

lol sorry another not focused on their relationship but!! came and stayed for the plot, then the Dick & Damian moments KNOCKED ME OUTT!!

#anon #fic #i just realized i never made an ask tag sgdhfh #sorry this took so long ive been hella busy and combing thru almost 400 fics is a lot hahagsfshdj #someone ask me for Dick and Damian during their Batman and Robin days lol THE BLUEPRINT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP WAHH #but then there’s more fics after that era…ask for those too idk HAHA #ask

[a-queer-seminarian]

Poems for Palestine

Poetry empowers us to imagine liberation that we can then work towards, together. In the latest episode of the Blessed Are the Binary Breakers podcast, listen to — or read along in the episode transcript — Jewish, Christian, and Muslim poems by Palestinians and their supporters.

Some pieces explore the Nativity story through this lens: Christmas joy must break bread with pain, birthing solidarity with all oppressed peoples.

Listen wherever you get podcasts — or visit here for a direct link.

Image descriptions are in the alt text and below the readmore.

A photo of Professor Refaat Alareer with a quote from him reading, “We’ve never been to other parts of Palestine because of the Israeli occupation, but… our parents and grandparents — especially our mothers — have been telling us stories… Our homeland turns into a story. In reality we can’t have it, but…we love our homeland because of the story. And we love the story because it’s about our homeland. And this connection is significant. Israel wants to sever the relationship between Palestinians and the land… And literature attaches us back, connects us strongly to Palestine…creating realities, making the impossible sound possible."

A photo of Hiba Abu Nada with an excerpt from her poem "I Grant You Refuge" reading, "I grant you refuge from hurt and suffering. With words of sacred scripture I shield the oranges from the sting of phosphorous and the shades of cloud from the smog. I grant you refuge in knowing that the dust will clear, and they who fell in love and died together will one day laugh."

A photo of Aurora Levins Morales with an excerpt from her poem "Red Sea," reading "We cannot cross until we carry each other, all of us refugees, all of us prophets. …this time no one will be left to drown and all of us must be chosen. This time it's all of us or none."

A photo of Basman Derawi with an excerpt from his poem "His Name Was Essa" reading, "Essa means Jesus. My friend was neither God nor prophet, but a rebel soul and humorist, like Jesus. When Essa laughed, everyone laughed. I think joy was his gospel. …I can see him now sitting in heaven nodding, laughing."

#christmas #palestine #palestinian poetry #aurora levins morales #basman derawi #refaat alareer #hiba abu nada #podcast #blessed are the binary breakers #log #winter 2023

[tinfairies]

Headcannon for possessive Aemond? Like if someone asked for your favour in a tourney how would he react? Would he prevent you from giving the favour in some way? Join the tourney to get your favour himself?

Anon Asked 'Idk if you dif this already but what are your headcannons of jealous Aemond?'

(I combined these two asks)

Aemond is not good with jealousy, he hides it better than his brother at least. He doesn't throw childish fits, or make threats when his beloved is being flirted with.

He is sneaky with making sure the men that try and court his love are disposed of quietly.

This sometimes means death, but most of the time it means reassignment or an arranged marriage to another.

Aemond is quite talented with pulling political strings.

He is possessive even before courting, he follows you everywhere without you knowing.

He can recite your favorite poems from memory, know your favorite foods, favorite colors, even your favorite nightgown you wear to bed.

After courting it just gets worse, because he is allowed to touch you, to pull you away from conversations. Hold you in his arms and show everyone who you belong to.

Aemond hates when other men talk to the woman he loves, especially young ones. She doesn't know it yet but she will be his.

His noble lady of the court graciously gets a seat beside Princess Helaena at the latest tourney. Much to her surprise.

Alicent had told Aemond to enter the Tourney as a show of good grace to the other lords that were invited. Knowing his drunken brother would be too intoxicated to participate, Aemond agreed.

The tourney was boring for him, but the crowd was eating up every bit of it. Aemond continued to knock his opponents off their horses with ease.

Ameteurs

He circled his horse around the arena, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a young lord approach the viewing box.

Hoping the lord was asking for his sister or queen mothers favor, he slowly trotted over.

"My lady, may I have you favor for luck in earning my victory?" the lord had asked Aemond's love nervously.

His lady smiled and grabbed her circlet, covered in dark purple violets. As she threw it down to the man the wind picked up. The favor blew in the wind, and Aemond grabbed it with ease.

"I believe fate has given this to me." Aemond smirked at the man, a look of embarrassment on his poor face.

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #got x reader #got headcanons #got imagine #game of thrones headcanons #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #Game of thrones x reader

[houseofhyde]

Hello there amazing writer 🙋🏻‍♀️! I hope you are feeling well and are finding the fandom pleasant 🤗.

I thought I'd share an idea that's been festering in my head if you'd like to give it a try (but first allow me to commend your sharply pellucid guidelines for requesting, you have seriously inspired me to refine my own 🥂)

I was thinking of something where Daemon has been chasing a noblewoman, interest kindled by her prideful rejection to become his latest muse; then one night she goes to his chamber, dejected and teary, indignantly asking for company. Then something like the beach scene from Drfitmark where he's far gentler than he thought he would be.

Thank you for hearing me out, have a lovely day 💐

but only for tonight.

pairing. daemon targaryen x fem!reader. synopsis. to most, the rogue prince is an untamable beast, with the fury of a thousand men and mind more stubborn than a mule. to you, he's a nuisance in expensive clothing, prone to run away with his tail tucked between his legs each time you reassure him you're still not interested in entertaining his company. till disaster strikes and the only corner of the keep your legs seem to carry you is his chamber doors. warnings. young!daemon (early 20s), enemies to lovers to strangers, kinda softer than usual daemon (he's young and not completely cynical yet), smut (porn with plot, p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, daemon lowkey has a praise kink, dubcon bc daemon is high on life aka the milk of the poppy). word count. 13.1k (this was only meant to be 5k max 🧍‍♂️) hyde's input. thank you so much to @nyctophilic0vitnir for your kind words, your request, and, most importantly, your patience <3 this took me far too long to write and i hope the wait was worth it for you. it pains me to age daemon down (as, personally, i'm a toxic bitch that loves to see daemon be notably older than the reader, since i feel it adds that extra layer of questionable morality to his character and his actions) but it was the only way i felt i could stay true to my personal characterisation of him whilst sticking to the original request. since i view daemon as someone hardened by things in life that only come with age (which, in turn, affects his approach to love/courting), it only felt believable to me that he'd chase after someone in his younger days. obviously not everyone has to agree since, again, this is my personal characterisation of him! i'm rambling so i'll shut up now, enjoy! read on ao3 !

between the blinding shine of the sun and the hateful looks from the ladies seated all around you, you’re shocked to the core that you’ve yet to melt away into nothingness.

the scene is as follows: an arena surrounded by crowds filled with cheering lords and fawning ladies, dressed in their finest of robes and garbs, and with their mouths opened to yell out each time sticks collide or a rider is thrown from his horse; within the arena stand two horses- one so white it offends the eyes and the other blacker than a night’s sky- and, upon their saddles, two men. the first is a man of honour, regal of house and true of heart. he sits like royalty and smiles like a dashing knight, urging his mount towards the stands, no doubt awaiting the gift of the flowered wreath you’d kept yourself awake into the small hours to make. the other man? a fool made of over-the-top armor, a glistening of dark metals and a feathered helmet that, combined with the smug look he sports, has the same effect as simply writing cunt across his forehead.

it is, to your own displeasure, that the second man is who holds his lance out to you first.

“well,” that cocky tone of voice grates you, like the screech of a crying babe, and you fight back the urge to cover your ears, if only by reminding yourself of how his crown-bearing brother is watching from his own seat amongst the crowd. “get on with it.”

“oh, my!” the women in your vicinity swoon, as if the man has just recited a poem of utmost beauty and grace in your direction.

seemingly foolish? most definitely.

but, truly foolish? not one bit, each of them strategic in their behaviour towards the unwed prince, hopeful that someday, should they work hard enough, they’ll be on the receiving end both of his affection and wealth.

you can not mock them- wholeheartedly, at least- for you would be behaving the very same were he any other prince.

“lady cantebury, if you’ll excuse me, i suddenly feel my lunch coming back up.” though you address the woman to the left of you- who, quite frankly, you’ve been ignoring for the better half of the tournament- your words and feigned smile are directed to the man of your ire.

“yes, excuse her, lady cantebitchy,” despite the prince- purposefully, you assume- misspeaking her name, she seems a little too excited that he’s taken notice of her to care. “it takes those northerners a while to adjust to eating something other than half-frozen crops. three moons south and my lady has yet to get used to it.”

“your lady?” you scoff, and quickly scowl, cursing yourself for giving him what he wants: your attention. too late now, you challenge him and lean forward against the railings. “is she with us now, this lady of yours? i should like to pay my respects to her no-doubt deceased sanity.”

“it pains me deeply when you speak so dully of yourself, my lady.” the gaul of this man! to speak such words, to mimic affectionate sentiments and pains in his heart through the clutching of his chest!

and, to make matters worse, to put on this act before the very man you’ve been courting!

the tyrell boy is smiling when your eyes finds his own, but the grip he has on the reigns of the white horse speaks true to the anger that hides beneath the petal-covered surface. you return his smile, and ignore whatever the prince mutters under his breath (something adjacent to greeting that priss of a man, with words more foul and tone heavy on the disgust).

aiming to beckon over the man who should truly receive the gift of your favour, a faint tug on the skirts of your summer’s gown derail your line of thoughts. first, you look to your left, accusing eyes looking upon lady canteburry as if to say she was the one to call for your attention. another tug has your head darting to the right, and there you see her.

the princess is small, in age and height and all else, but she makes up for what she lacks with her overgrown personality and swollen confidence. she’s merely a girl of six, yet she stands as tall as her stature allows, head tilted up to look you in the eye.

“my uncle,” little rhaenyra’s words echo for all to hear, silencing even the most brutishly rude lords as all stand to listen to her sweet voice. “he wants your favour. i think he’s just nervous and forgot to ask for it.”

the last of her words are whispered, loud enough for several women and the prince himself to hear. you shoot him a look as you both scoff over a laugh, him with indiganance and you with disbelief.

blessed be the hearts of children, too pure to know the wrongs of man.

“is that so, princess?” the girl’s nose wrinkles, a sign of her distaste towards hearing you address her by title (“i can not call you ‘nyra in public, sweet child.” you’d told her many a times, hands brushing over her pale hair or accompanying her through strolls in the gardens or helping her escape the boring hours of needle work. “you are a princess, and as one of your ladies it is my duty to address you as such.”)

the girl nods and you spy the way her hair is slowly slipping out of its braid. the actions serves as a reminder, to not just yourself but the gathered crowd of women, of the unfair yet captivating traits of the dragon-riders. fair hair, lilac eyes, unblemished skin.

he wears them differently to the rest of his house.

“listen to the child,” he speaks as if on queue, in tune with your thoughts. “she’s wiser than most her age.”

“unlike you.” you believe yourself to mutter beneath your breath.

the stifled laughter of the queen herself, aemma targaryen, tells you otherwise.

“ao jorrāelagon naejot sagon tolī sȳz, kepus!” you need to be more kind, uncle! another part of the targaryen culture you’ve grown to envy as much as you distaste: their ancestral tongue. which the princess has been improving upon with each passing day since your arrival at the capital, adding yet another person to your list of targaryens who insist on speaking it around you, with no regard to the fact you have no clue of what words they speak. if anything, the prince seems to enjoy it when you storm off, antagonised to the point of despair by his incomprehensible ramblings in his mother tongue. “iā hembar jēda kesan daor tepagon se dohaeragon ao jaelagon naejot gain se riña’s prūmia lēda.” or next time i will not give the help you wish to gain the lady’s heart with.

whatever she says, it’s enough to irritate the prince, if the roll of his eyes are anything go by.

“lykemagon, riña, iā kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot ȳdragon hen aōha bantis zaldrīzes kipagon naejot aōha kepa.” silence, child, or i will not forget to speak of your nightly dragon rides to your father. you may not speak the language, but you’re fluent in context, and so there’s no doubt in your mind that the two are exchanging threats, each wearing that signature look of stubborn challenging you’re more than certain the king grew to despise the moment he realised he’d no longer just face it from his own brother, but his precious daughter too.

when the moment passes, the princess is facing you again, sticky hands plucking upwards to grab onto whatever part of you she can reach and guide you- shove you, if she were stronger than her age allows- closer to the knight in offensive armour.

“uncle, tell the lady what you desire.” the gods were cruel when they chose to favour men over women, tearing away the chance of this poised young girl of ever ruling upon the iron throne, for not even the strongest of men- nor the most foolish, either- would dare to speak to the rogue prince in such a demanding tone.

“to be drowning in whores and wine.” you’re too slow to cover rhaenyra’s ears from the man’s offensive wording.

you suppose she’s heard far worse.

“uncle!”

“fine, fine,” a clearing of a throat, a straightening of a spine and a lunge of a jousting stick in your direction. the horse he sits upon canters a few steps closer and releases the heavy sigh you wish you could. “my lady,” there’s a point to be made with how your eyes drift anywhere but his own as he speaks such blasphemy, a silent scream that you are most definitely, not under any circumstances nor at any point in time, his lady. you’re barely a tolerant of the man! “would you do me the honour of gifting me with your favour, so that i may wear it on the handle of my lance as i shove the other end up this pretty boy’s arse?”

there’s a cacophony of laughter, prompted only after the king himself fails to contain a burst of belly-born rumbles, and then the sweet interjection of ‘nyra once more, voice whiny in a way that reminds you you’ve been cursed with your moonsblood for longer than she’s been alive- even despite your supposed late blossoming!

“kepus! konir sagon daor skorkydoso īlon kȳvanon syt ao epagon zirȳla!” uncle! that is not how we planned for you to ask her!

the prince ignores his niece, eyes spying only upon you and your unimpressed, unmoving, unchanging facial expressions. the frowning lips, the pinched brows, the disdain in your eyes are all marks of something that would- should- send any other man running for the hills, in pursuit of some other lady.

in daemon, it is the pilar of his desire.

“are you going to make me wait all evening?” the teasing smirk and the raise of an eyebrow have become the prince’s signature look around you, from the moment you’d stumbled upon him, hands tangled up the skirts of a serving girl and lips stained in the bloodied red of southern wine. “because i must admit, while i’m not against performing in front of a crowd, i’d rather hoped our first evening together would be a little more intimate than this.”

you bite the insides of your cheek with a force you hope is strong enough to rid you of that grating feeling roused by none other than your greatest enemy: the prince.

by all means, you want to deny him, send him off to pester some other lady for her favour- of which you’re sure he’ll stumble upon an abudance of them who receive him more willingly than you. the crown of pointed thorns and decaying petals and twisted vines is one you’d intended to gift to the rose boy, not the dragon prince.

yet rhaenyra’s little hands and excited smile convinces you to go against your better judgement.

the crowd bursts back to life with cheers and applause as you drop your wreath down the expanse of his lance.

“cherish it, prince daemon,” you call over the crowd, voice drowning out in the masses yet reaching its intended, daemon’s eyes delighting with the attention you give him. “for i just forfeited my chance to be named queen of love and beauty.”

hours later, when the moon sits atop the sky and the king’s guests have had their fair share of feast and drink, you brush off yet another congratulations.

“to our queen of love and beauty!” they cheer, cups to the sky and smiles made of mockery. “our prince sure did pick a fine lady.”

to roll your eyes is your only hope to halt yourselves from chastising the garish men and their claims, a whole rant to throw at them off the cuff of how the only thing their prince has done is place a scarlet letter upon you and slice a dagger through the already fragile relationship you’ve spent your recent days crafting with the stone-faced lady tyrell, who’s spent the past hours staring you down from across the hall and whispering every so often to her husband.

the hand in your own- smaller and distinctly sticky in a way only a child’s hand ever seems to be- tugs and squeezes you along, venturing deeper into the pit of dancing bods, the tuffs of blonde and the poofs of red the only part of the princess you manage to make out as she guides you.

she stops, eventually, when she finds a spot she deems spacious enough and- unbeknownst to you- in the perfect line of view for all that sit the royal table, be they a king, or a queen, or a prince, to witness you both joining in dance, a unique pair among the many couples.

“you know,” the girl ponders alloud, a cheeky grin on her face as her small frame easily twirls beneath your raised arm. “if you married my uncle, you and i would be family.”

“is that so, huh?” she must count her blessings that she remains a child, for were she any older to know better, she’d be tasting the wrath delivered upon any other who’d dare insinuate- much less so boldly propose the idea of- the unification of yourself and the rogue prince. “are you sure you’d be able to handle me as your evil aunt?”

the young girl nods enthusiastically, a silly grin decorating her features and forcing one on to your own down-trodden face, something so infectious in her smile.

when you’d first met the princess, you’d been certain that you’d never warm to her. it wasn’t that she was spoiled or particularly difficult but, rather, you’d never had a child around back home. moving to the capital- under the guise of becoming a lady in waiting to the little princess while truly being an excuse for your father to find you a husband- you’d been unsure what to expect once you arrived. your friendship with the dragon princess was a happy accident.

an accident that’s made adjusting to the capital far easier, sure, but an accident nonetheless.

“uncle!” her recent interest in your courting life and the need to intertwine it with your arch-nemesis’, however, has you rethinking this friendship.

the princess is the one to let go first, ducking out of your hold to crash straight into the prince’s leg, attaching herself onto it like a leech sticks to the skin of a dying man. daemon, seemingly engaged in conversation- with a girl you believe to be part of the lannister house- prior to the appearance of rhaenyra, dismisses the company in favour of his niece, hand clasping itself upon the top of her head and giving several scuffs, messing her hair till it stands in all directions.

and, be it the copious drinks or the immature she-devil who harbours within the depths of your soul, you condemn yourself to approaching the prince.

“stop that!” the words are a hiss as your hands shove away his own and work at smoothing back down the strands of pale blonde. “it took me near an hour to get her to sit still for me while i done her hair, and now you’ve gone and messed my work!”

“then do better next time, perhaps tie it more securely.” never has daemon targaryen had a face so worthy of a slap.

but, as slapping the king’s brother would likely land you straight in a cellar, you settle for something far more childish.

“oh, my bad,” the stretch to reach the top of his head is lessened by the heeled shoes you wear, allowing you to retaliate the treatment he’d given to the princess’ head. “perhaps you should try tying your hair more securely next time!”

it’s a marvellous kind of satisfaction that overcomes you as you gaze upon your masterpiece, the prince now wearing a hardened expression and standing with something akin to a bird’s nest in place of his once perfectly groomed locks.

“i think you’ve been spending too much time with rhaenyra,” he grumbles, attempting to sooth down the mop on his head while trying to maintain an air of collectedness about him as the surrounding guests hide their snickers behind their hands. meanwhile, the princess radiates joy, no fear holding her back from laughing at her uncle. “you’re behaving as if you were her age.”

it’s a struggle to not stick your tongue out, but you fear that would only serve to prove his- likely true- point.

“i’m tired,” rhaenyra, ever the conniving little actress, throws in a fake yawn and stretches her little limbs out as she untangles herself from the prince, staring up at him. the two have always shared a rather queer bond, as though they were cut from the very same cloth, little needing said for them both to understand one another. being aware of this, however, does not make it any easier to accept when they speak of you as though you’re not there. “would you promise to keep my friend company? there’s a lot of strangers at this feast and i don’t want one of them to harm her.”

“i’d say the strangers are the ones who need protecting, princess,” he’s doubled over, moving down to the height of his niece but his focus is all on you and the urge to squirm under his penatrive gaze is stronger than ever. “them northerners can be savages!”

with much protest from you and a shooing motion from the rogue prince, young rhaenyra scurries off towards her septa, eventually leaving the hall intwined with the daughter of her father’s hand, alicent hightower, the pair having been near inseparable since before you’d even arrived in the capital.

you last only four denied dances, three of them which are proposed by the heartbreak prince himself, the only other man bold enough to approach you with your frowning sworn-guard for the night being a lowly lord from the southern isles, kind enough in the eyes yet sporting a few too many wrinkles and grey hairs for you to consider a suitable suitor. and, at last, it becomes time you take your leave, making one last stop before the two royals, once more congratulating the pair on the early stages of the queen’s pregnancy- the first to make it through the initial trimester since the birth of rhaenyra and the sole reason you’ve all gathered, to celebrate the future heir king viserys targaryen claims grows within his wife’s womb- before making your way out into the much quieter, more solitary and notably cooler hallways of the red keep, the noise of the continued festivities drowning out into muffled cheers as the heavy doors slam shut, locking you out.

you breathe easily for what feels like the first time in hours.

ever the fool, daemon seems either incapable of taking a hint or wilfully going to any length to aggravate you, for he matches your steps and follows you out. he’s oblivious to the stare of despair and the roll of your eyes, wishing the man would drop his literal- and figurative- pursuit of you once and for all.

“you’ve been here, what, near four moons?” his voice rising above the stillness of the night captures your attention, widened eyes blossoming with surprise shooting up from facing the ground beneath your feet. “how are you finding your stay? i should hope my brother’s fitted you with comfortable quarters.”

“i, well,” you start, and you mean to finish, you really do. but there’s a loss of connection between your mind and your mouth, one running with a thousand thoughts that fight to reach the forefront and the other parting it’s lips in a broken exhale.

“what, surprised to see i am capable of niceties?” the prince flashes what you imagine most would describe as a charming smile.

“yes. no, actually,” you correct both your words and your posture, unknowingly relaxing that tense feeling that had danced upon the tip of your back and the expanse of your shoulder from the moment you’d found yourself alone with the man walking at your side. “more surprised to see you’re capable of not turning everything into a sexual pass, i suppose.”

“well, you never let me reach the part where i request to see just how comfortable your quarters are.”

that same she-devil who convinced you to mess with his hair perks up her voice once more, seductive whispers encouraging you to cross the space that separates you from the prince and place a hand upon his leather-bound chest, shoving him with less hostility either of you had expected.

“you’re insufferable!” at the very least, you retain the ability to criticise him verbally, though with far more interruptions of failed-to-conceal laughter and less sharpness in your tone.

“i believe it’s pronounced irrefutable.”

“i’m impressed,” you nod along to your own exclamation, vaguely aware of the fact you’ve twisted your feet around till you face the man completely. “that’s a big word for someone with the vocabulary of a foul-mouthed child!”

“if big things impress you, rest assured i’m well endowed.”

“like i said, insufferable!”

when your exacerbated sighs and his teasing chortles fade away into the air of the night, a calm quiet settles over you both, like fog over mountain tops. the rare abscense of the wandering eyes and judgemental snickers and the gossiping whispers exchanged through the courtiers has made way for an unexpected tolerance of the prince’s company, one that leads you astray from your usual disgust and further towards the walking disaster-child that is daemon targaryen.

“come,” it’s a demand, not a request, the talons of your hands digging into the arm of his coat admittedly harder than necessary, a sick depravation found in the firmness of his biceps. you find he gives no protest to the way your arm locks itself around his own. “walk me to my chambers, oh mighty knight!”

“is this your way of accepting my offer to see how comfortable your ch-”

“daemon, so help the seven, if you finish that sentence, it’ll be i who shoves a lance up your arse.”

silence returns like an old friend: with open arms and the promise of a story to be told.

the pair of you traverse through the winding halls of the castle together, arms linked and feet synced- the prince puts a great effort into shortening the length of his steps. to outsiders looking in, you’d almost appear to be nothing more than another couple in the early days of courtship, smiling off to the sides and capable of looking anywhere but each other. the reality that this very man has put your true intended betrothal at risk becomes buried deep beneath the surface of your thoughts, uneager to remind yourself of how you’d last seen the tyrell boy rising from the dirt of the arena, face frowning as the prince called out your name, thanking you for you favour.

“you never answered.” he speaks carefully, voice a gentle timbre as though he’s attempting to coax a wounded fawn out of its hiding place.

“hmm?”

“my question, about your stay. how are you finding it?”

you can not seem to answer him. it isn’t that you don’t want to answer- trust there is another world out there where you easily list off every reason he’s made your time in the capital feel something comparable to torturous and arduous work- but, rather, that you do not have an answer. because not a single person, from your own father all the way to little rhaenyra herself, has dared to ask you before.

no individual has cared to know, yet here the prince stands- walks by your side, more accurately said- and inquires on it.

it jars you so severely you feel the beginnings of an ache in your head.

“oh, well, it’s been... good, i suppose.” both of you share a common disbelief towards the words you speak, yours evident in the way your grip tightens around his arm and his making itself known in a dismissive grunt. “the keep is beautiful, and my chambers are beyond any level of comfort my own house could afford, and the weather is admiteddly nicer. it’s just...”

“lonely,” the man finishes what you started, the hand on his free arm at some point raising itself to rest upon your own. it’s only reflex for your fingers to relax, untense the vice grip you’ve dug into him. “this city is somehow the busiest yet loneliest place in the whole of westeros.”

“don’t get sentimental on me, prince daemon.” to dismiss the mellowness settling in between you with a jovial tone and a pointed look is all you can think to do, far too unprepared to be confronted with the possibility of the rogue prince possessing anything beyond the sheer audacity he displays on the daily. “we would not want someone to overhear and assume you’re soft-hearted.”

the man swallows back a comment of how, while his heart may falter, another of his organs would not fail to remain hardened, and simply gives a noise of agreement. you arrive at yet another flight of stairs, this one so narrow it requires you to walk ahead of the prince, the grasp you have on him never faltering as it slides down the expanse of his arm and reanchors itself on his wrist.

you make it not even a quarter of the way up before your dress proves itself to be a nusance, catching on your feet and sending you crashing forwards, saved from bruising your skin and breaking your bones on the solid stone below by daemon, who effortletsly catches you by the waist.

“i wasn’t aware the king placed you in the highest tower of the keep,” the prince, a known hypochondriac, quips on the amount of stairs  the travels to your chambers entails.

“must be to keep scoundrels like his brother from trying to reach me.” a joke it may be, given you both laugh, but there’s certainly an element of truth behind it.

pray, you will, that you’re never enquired on how often a scoundrel has taken it upon himself to lift the ends of a woman’s dress for no reasons other than aiding her to climb up steps without the fear of her feet catching on the ends of it.

he follows you up closely, closer than he’d been before, and drops the material only after you’ve reached the top. the pair of you move in sync to reform your previous positions, arms intertwining with ease.

“what,” it’s criminal, you think, that it’s taken you all this time to experience how soft the prince’s voice can be once he’s rid it of all that ego and peacoking energy he barks around the courts with. meanwhile, he’s doing everything he can think of to slow your inevitable approach towards your chambers door. “do you have planned tomorrow morning?”

“tomorrow morning?” the question prompts you to look at him. seeing his face closer than it’s ever been before, you see the little details, like the flecks of deep purple that accentuate the lilac eyes, or the small scab on his chin where a shaving knife must have sliced it, or the subtle indent of frown-lines on his forehead that you think a man of his age is far too young to possess. “usually my mornings are spent with the other maidens who reside in the keep, before rhaenyra comes searching for me after she’s broken her fast.”

you don’t mention the way the young girl never fails to bring something tucked beneath her skirts- an apple, a buttered roll, a slice of meat- and forces it upon you, demanding you eat the breakfast you so often forget to take.

“how likely is it that your absence would be noted, say, if you were to go one daybreak not with those wenches?” you wrinkle your nose at the choice of words and he chuckles, mentally notting the distaste you harbour for wenches and reminding himself to use it against you at some point in the future. “my brother says the she-beast they call vhagar laid a clutch.”

“how ominous. haven’t you dragonriders taken enough dragons beneath your wings?” it’s meant to be naught more than a silly comment, a clever play on words to rouse a tired eyeroll from prince daemon. it isn’t, however, supposed to pull a pointed look and a sigh of defeat from the dragonless targaryen. “i’m sorry... i didn’t mean to offend.”

“no, no, it’s fine. just never speak such a stupid pun again.” he juts his arm out, playfully stabbing the point of his elbow into your side and rousing a smile back onto your face, unease slipping out with your next exhale. “it’s for the queen’s babe. my brother demanded i collect the eggs and bring them to-”

“there you are, my love! i’ve been looking for you all evening.”

like a pair of children caught with their hands down a cookie jar, daemon and you jump apart with haste, eyes no longer focused on one another and, instead, on the figure stood at the very end of the hall.

he still wears the armour which he’d been defeated by the prince in.

“laurel!” while your tone may read as elated, it’s filled only with disappointed surprise. “what are- why- what brings you here, at this hour?”

the prince seems to instinctively step closer to you as the tyrell boy begins to approach, leaving his post outside your door. he’s stern, brows furrowed and nothing remains of the man who’d been making you laugh a mere ten paces back.

“i was looking, for you,”

“clearly not hard enough.” you wonder if the tyrell boy catches daemon’s muttered words and, the part of you that agrees with them wishes he did.

you’d been at the feast all evening, with just about every other person of status in the city. if he’d wanted to find you, he’d have been best to make an appearance at the event rather than camping outside your apartments.

“i thought we could take a stroll through the gardens,” the rose speaks as though his idea is not preprostous, inviting a maiden out into the darkened greenery at such a late hour.

passing by the prince, laurel tyrell spares him no attention, as though the man is not even there, and simply makes his way towards the stairway, turning back only when the notion that you stand frozen in your spot kicks in.

“come along, my lady!” my lady. those two words feel tainted from hearing them fall from between the prince’s lips, the tyrell’s voice prickling your skin with it. “i promise i shant keep you late.”

your eyes find the prince.

he nods, once and then a second time.

“go,” he urges verbally, when his actions don’t speak loud enough. “fleabottom’s been calling my name all evening, and i intend to answer it.”

with a twist in your gut and a wretch in your heart, you shuffle your way over to laurel tyrell’s open palm, letting him drag you back down into the night.

this is a decision you come to regret, no later than four sleeps.

because the man's words follow you, no matter how quickly you run through halls and creep up stairwells. they turn every corner you take and pause with every rush of breath you stop to heave into your screaming lungs. you pass doorways and sleeping guards, and they pass them with you too.

this nonsense best prove it's worth once i bed her.

there's anger in the clutches of your hands, clenched into fists of pointed knuckles and skin-digging nails, and sadness caught between the lashes of your eye, drops of liquid heartbreak threatening to stain your skin if you so much as blink.

the halfwit doesn't notice when i focus on her tits instead of her eyes.

the poetic words, the strolls through the gardens, the nights of dancing, the stolen smiles and fleeting looks across crowded rooms, all for nothing.

least she be a maiden. i've heard the feel of breaking one of them in is unmatched.

all for laurel tyrell to be another man who sees only the shape of what you hide beneath your clothing.

you want to hate him, curse him, tell all you meet of his crude words, but, instead, the thought of their reactions leaves you despising yourself, for ever thinking a man could think with more than what sat between his legs.

it is not even an option to contact your father, you lament while climbing yet another winding stairwell, for he’d merely remind you of a woman’s duty, which serves only her house until she takes a husband and, then, serves only him.

if the tyrell boy wishes to bed a maiden, your father’s voice plays in your thoughts as though he were stood before you this very instant, best it be you.

his words, the thoughts and your footsteps all come to a halt at the same time. like reentering your body, or awakening from a nap, you find yourself disorientated, gazing upon a chamber door you register not as your own. no, this door is more akin to the level of gradiose you face each day that you visit the young princess’ room, dragged away by her small hands as she works to avoid yet another one of the classes that she views as a bore.

yet, this is not her door.

sure, it carries similar markings and engraves in the wood, and sports that very same rich colour and shine to it. but something, subtle as it may be, is askew. the princess’ door has silver handles, this one has gold. the princess sleeps in the east wing of this part of the keep and you’re certain you’d marched west, away from the voice of your betrothed. a guard stands by the princess’ door, no one sits outside this one.

bile rises in tune with your hand, staining the back of your throat with anxious thoughts as you hesitantly knock.

you pause and wait.

minutes pass before you’re knocking again, this time with a little more anger behind the way your knuckles hit against the cold oak. it’ll be a wonder if you do not awake to swirls of purple and twists of blue painted across your skin come sunrise.

the tenant of these apartments still does not open their doors.

you hit a little harder, replacing knocks with a forceful, full-handed slap against the door. and then another, and another, and another, and-

your hand meets flesh that prickles with stubble and points with it’s cheekbones.

“what in the seven hells merits such behaviour at this hour?!”

the prince, for the life of him, has barely managed to open his eyes fully, rejecting the bright lights that burn in the hall. behind him is a sea of black, whatever treasures or prisoners he hides within his quarters lost into the darkness. he’s frowning, hair a mess, clothes foregone hours ago, and a distinctly red hand print slowly searing itself into the left side of his face.

the sight brings you more relief than you’d ever thought him capable of.

you’ve always been rational. it’s a badge you wear with honour, basking in the glory anytime one of your siblings met the angrier side of your father that never failed to reprimand them for being less like you, for being incapable of thinking before acting like you, for never weighing consequences until after a deed was done.

till the day you die, you will never find the words to describe what leads you astray from this level-headedness in the small hours of this evening.

you crash into the prince less gracefully than you’d prefer, lips barely meeting the bottom of his and pressing themselves half on his chin as you dive in for a kiss.

a kiss that daemon does not reciprocate.

in fact, he doesn’t even attempt to move, body frozen in place. pulling back to find the sheer unfazed, almost bored look that occupies the features of his face, floods your soul with a horrible, thick, heavy feeling, that stains every part of you it touches. 

you’re ashamed.

and mortified.

and disgusted.

and embarrassed.

and reaching for his lips again.

this time your mouths collide in perfect level, no unwanted chin in the way. wanting- needing something to anchor you down, your hands shoot out to grasp at where a tunic would usually be. instead, you’re met with nothing but the solid, heaving, sweating mass that makes up the prince’s naked chest.

daemon remains stoic.

“i,” you breathe a shaky exhale, a sting nagging away at your reopened eyes as the previous tears reappear. with a nod, and a sniffle, you step back from the man. the nervous tremble in your hands forces you to grab at the fabrics of your skirt, grasping at anything to distract your mind. “that- this was a mistake.”

this entails so much. kissing him, knocking on his door, walking to his chambers, moving to king’s landing, courting with the tyrell boy, letting the prince get in your head and, all over what? a single experience where the two of your were capable of coexisting without tearing one another’s hair out?

it is all one big mistake, the kind that one can’t hope to fix if all they do is turn and run from the danger it exudes.

knowing this won’t stop you from trying, however.

you twist so quick you worry you may snap your spine or strain a muscle, body kicking into action in an attempt to get as far away from the prince as you’d once desired to be from the tyrell boy. not even a full step, do you make it, until an unmovable force clamps down on your arm.

daemon imposes on you this time, leaning down and crashing his lips against yours. his mouth is warm, with lips of honey and hands of stone that grab and pull and tug at the parts of you they blindly reach for.

the prince is not the first man you’ve kissed- nor do you imagine a life where he’ll be the last- but there’s something behind the way his tongue burrows itself into your mouth, his presence so tangible and all consuming.

you pull back, if only to catch your breath, but he follows, taking ownership over your senses.

stumbling backwards and crossing the threshold into the prince’s chambers, darkness takes ahold of you both, bathing you in nothing but the light of a distant moon. you barely register how one of you reaches for the door behind you, only the slamming of it alerting you to the fact it’s been closed. a lightheaded feeling overcomes you, forcing you to pull apart when your lungs scream for air.

“i’m starting to understand,” daemon’s voice is full of rasp, dry and cracking and far too grating on the ears for you to genuinely be finding yourself attracted to it. “why my brother swears by the milk of the poppy.”

a horrible feeling floods your soul, bile burning its way up your throat.

“oh, oh my god,” your hands are at the level of your eyes, pulling at strands of your own hair. “i completely forgot... you- you’re on bedrest, i can, i’ll just leave-”

the prince’s injury had been the talk of the town since it had occurred: a near-deadly run in with a frightened stag amidst a hunting tourney. the horned animal had spooked his horse, throwing the man off its saddle as it reared and ran off, leaving him to face the male deer. the truth of what had entailed, few would ever know, all that was said was that the prince returned to camp dragging the slaughtered animal by it’s horns with a blood staining the clothing surrounding his left shoulder. 

“no, you won’t, heathen!” in rare occasions, daemon would be the only one to pull a smile from you all day. how fortunate that this is one of those occasions, the scowl on his brows contradicting the subtle upward quirk of his thin lips. “you can not dangle a piece of meat before a dragon and then refuse to feed it.”

were you in any state to think rationally, you’d dig more into the fact he’d just referred to you as a piece of meat.

but, then, if you were thinking rationally, you’d never have wound up at his door.

the second kiss is less forceful. no rush enlaced with every touch, no desperation tickling at both your senses, no desire to stray too far from one another.

you find yourself trusting the prince more than you’d like to when he starts to guide you backwards, a gentle pressure on your hips building while his mouth travels over your jaw and reaches the top of your neck. you walk, and stumble, and shuffle wherever the man directs you and, then, you fall.

any frightful scream you would have let out is quickly replaced with a squeal and a giggle of delight, back meeting what you’re confident in naming the softest bed you’ve ever laid upon.

at last, the shine of the moon allows you to see the man hell-bent on attacking you with his mouth.

“what is the meaning of this, hmm?” the condescension in his tone usually grates you. now, it excites you, arouses you, leaves you wondering of what pleasures he could speak with it. “why’re you suddenly at my door, behaving like some wanton whore?”

oh, you think, who knew such crass could prickle your skin with desire?

the shadow of the prince casts down on you, bathing you in an exagirated enlarged image of him, as if the fates wish to remind you of how big a shadow he looms over your own existence. it scares you.

his eyes scare you more.

they’re usually wider, observing every move, full of that mischievous nature the prince is known for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then daemon’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand that circles a grip around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, silver hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“do you know how hard it is to get you alone? always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid feasts i had to attend to finally get some time with you?” daemon pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, sweet girl? or are you lost in that pretty little head of yours?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with a new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want me to say.”

if it’s the wrong or right answer, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced man releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting jasmine that reminds you of how alluring yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answer to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm of your lips is a mismatch of beats, where one moment you are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down, down, down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you’ve succumb to daemon’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he has in his possession and currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to repeat his previous seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand suddenly finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips ruck up the fabric that safeguards the last of your modesty and meet the ends of your sleep-gown, you’re wishing you’d never slipped it on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over your near shear dress occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like visenya and vhagar at the unstormable vale, daemon parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s pulsating core.

“have you figured out what i want yet?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual smite-filed, almost spat-out-words tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the man. right now, there’s no trace of sardonic undertones in the thick rasp and there’s no time for an exchange of childish insults while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you desire, rather than what the stranger incarnate looming over you wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows no longer furrowed and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. the prince, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he’d stopped you from fleeing at his door.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, till a mere inhale is enough to have your chest pressing into him.

the prince’s descent to the floor is graceful, his figure made of solid muscle and unclothed skin lowering till his knees hit the ground and it becomes you who stare down at him, your hands clutching at the silk sheets his bed has been dressed with in an effort to replace the desire to touch him instead.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of his eyes on you, or the sheer visual strength depicted in the straining muscles of his thighs, you instead focus on the way his lips have trailed away from yours and are beginning to make their way towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your flimsy night-dress, successfully manoeuvring the cotton material till it pools around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the night.

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a laugh.

his laughter.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your dress with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, fabric digging into the rapidly heating skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how beautiful your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, not unlike the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” one hand finds it’s way onto his shoulder- the shoulder that does not possess gauze wrapped around it, that is- and grasps it in a vice grip, the fear of melting off the bed and directly onto the concrete floor all too prevalent as you gain enough confidence to let the other hand slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the silver locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked to drink from your cunt?”

you nearly choke on your own shock.

“i suppose that’s another honourable title for me to wear.” daemon is beginning to give you whiplash, with all this switching between being unusually receptive to your presence and the man that minutes before was making poetic profanities out of the beauty of your bared chest. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting once more to make out your figure in the darkness. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting before you, knees pressing into the ground in a mockery of a bow, some crevice deep within your soul sparks up a fire that burns on the belief that perhaps you’ve been wrong about the prince all along, judging only on what people say and not on how he behaves. then, he reopens his mouth and dampens the flame. “now, do i have to tear you out of your skirts or will you stand up and let me slide it off?”

this time, its your laugh that echoes in the air.

“you think i jest!” he seems to whine his way through his exclaim, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is both influenced by the milk of the poppy that flows through his bloodstream, and is going to drive you insane. “i can not go on another moment like this, you sitting there like something akin to the most mouthwatering summer’s peach, without spending my seed. and, while i’d much prefer to do so inches deep inside you, i’ll settle for a mouth full of cunt.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture the prince’s essence. “okay, okay, i’ll umm... just stand up and-” the shriek of fabric tearing rips through the space between you. “hey!”

“i’d apologise but, well,” daemon’s dazed smile should not be this gentle, not when it is proceeded with his hands returning to your now bare thighs. “you were trying my patience.”

his hold on you is strong- both the grip he has on your legs and the control he harbours over your mind-, and he plays it to his advantage, laying one palm flat over your torso and forcing you backwards, till your back meets the mattress and your eyes find themselves staring up at the images carved into the roof of the wooden bedpost, details indistinguishable in the darkened room.

from the floor, the prince is grabbing and pulling and maneuvering you down the length of the mattress, finding the backs of your knees and bending them, spreading your legs to a width wide enough for his broad shoulders to sit between. 

“need you closer, my tongue’s not that long.” the prince mutters, half to himself, as your arse meets the edge of the bed, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. your hands return to fisting at the sheets beneath you, digging and searching and reaching for a way to keep yourself grounded through the maddening thoughts of the prince and the current position you find yourself in, and ignoring the anxious ridden vipers inside your mind that spit their venom and hiss their tongues in commands that entail you gathering the remaining fabrics of your tattered clothing and running out these chambers, out the keep, out the damned capital, out the clutches of the man on his knees. though, with the way his fingers squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’d make it as far as even a single step. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the ladies in the seven kingdoms that would die to be in your position, and you choose to say that?” he tisks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on those words, next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your aching bud.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch upward momentarily, back arching off the bed and mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your buzzing centre and up your pubic bone. “you smell sweet as sin, you know? enough to make any man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when the prince makes his way back down to your pearl and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow more sodden, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- which slips and slides its way down to the crack of your arse, dribbling over your puckered hole- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your womanhood. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head forces itself into the grip you have in his hair while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he slurs over the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while the prince is simply watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your cunt clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

the rogue prince takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why did you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced peak you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your pearl is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. daemon hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged bud. “the goal is to make you cum on my tongue, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your pearl, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

“would you ever stop?” your whining tone is reminiscent of a spoiled babe, crying and fussing over the need to be fed milk from it’s mother’s teat.

“‘tis you who’s becoming insufferable now, my lady.” the prince, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your centre and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between daemon’s and your own.

“you can move.” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your pearl and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, sweetling.”

and, really, who are you to deny a prince?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you watched the flowered wreath slip down his lance. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and daemon’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and dropping your legs over his shoulders, mouth pressing right up against you with his tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, else all the old gods and the new be damned.

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time on the spare pillows that line your own bed, in the hours where the moon sits high within the sky and not a creature stirs nearby to witness your self-pleasing sins. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man below you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “oh, there, right there, daemon! yes, i’m going to-.”

the prince pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his mouth. he’s getting everything he’s imagined since he’d watched you first step foot into the keep, your naked body a mess before him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your breast.

he watches how the white tips of your nails clash with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you peak, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you fidget and kick away from him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of your essence he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he lets you move him, mouth switching to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something similar to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“you sound as though you enjoyed yourself.” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, mouth agape as you drag and drop the air through your lungs, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

“do you ever...” despite your efforts to sit yourself up, against his sheets you remain with limbs melted into puddles jelly and eyes staring wide at the heavens above, a tremble still present in your thighs as you subconsciously feel the patterns his hands dance over them. “shut up?”

“only when my mouth is otherwise occupied.”

silence prevails alongside the ticking of time. some part of you registers the return of your feet to the cold floor and the departure of the man from between your legs. he doesn’t stray far, hands clamping down on your hips, a gentle squeeze or two his own way of searching for your presence, urging your eyes to meet his.

they remain looking upwards.

undeterred, the prince is, bending himself at the waist and resting both hands on either side of your head, holding his own weight up as his face obstructs your view above. life enters you once more, eyes focusing at last on him and his upturned mouth and the remnants of your sexual indiscretions drying into his skin.

“for someone who hates it so much, you sure do know how to stroke my ego.” he must be on a mission, you think, to remind you of why you’ve spent your days avoiding interactions with him instead of tangling yourself within his arms. “i’ve got something much bigger for you to stroke though, once you regain your senses.”

this something bumps against your skin, solid as a rock and spluttering a spit of fluids onto you, warm and sticky. sneaking a quick glance is not enough to fully encapsulate the details that make up this fierce looking appendage, with it’s red-angered tip and its decorative bush of hair and the peak of his stones that sit just past its base, yet it’s all you allow yourself under the scrutiny of his eyes.

“perhaps it’s time you to choose your words more wisely, prince daemon,” your voice is breathy, chest heavy still. you try distract him away from noticing such a feat, hand dancing down the expanse of his bare back till it meets the globe of his arse, nail digging in so deep they’re bound to leave marks, if not draw blood too. “it would be far too easy to punch you in the cock from this position.”

he swallows back a demand for you to speak more about his cock.

clarity bestows itself upon your mind, as your memory serves you a cruel reminder of the words you’d overheard and the voice you’d been running from, dread burning its way up your throat in a sickening twist of guts. the prince must notice the shift in the air, perhaps the way your face has grown a little paler or your pupils dilate as you venture off into the hellscape of your mind, for he’s quick to return you to his hold, heavy body pressing down on you as the prince’s mouth meets yours.

there’s a tangy, sticky sweetness to his kiss, a taste of your self that he gifts you with bitten lips and languid tongue, delving deep into your mouth as if in search of some hidden treasure.

it’s clear now, to the both of you, that your reasons for being here- in his chambers, upon his bed, beneath his body- are nothing if not driven by something deeper, darker, more dangerous than simple ardent lust. months you’d been within reach. months he’d been vocal of his desires towards you. days you’d been betrothed to another man.

but the prince never asks, and so you never answer, letting yourselves indulge in the arts of pleasure and pain.

he pulls on your lip, you pull on his hair. he drags his nails down your body, you dig yours into his rear. he drives you deeper up the bed, you drive him deeper between your legs. he rolls his hips into you, you roll your eyes back into your skull.

“this is a dream. you’re a dream,” perhaps your rational thinking has devolved to naught but hedonistic intentions, for you’re almost certain the mighty rogue has something familiar to wonder intertwined with his breathless voice. the dilation of his pupils, eyes more black than targaryen-lilac, is a mystery you ponder over, wondering if it’s driven more by lust or sedative. “and tomorrow i’ll awake to an empty bed and the reality where you tolerate a rat more than me.”

it’s unclear if he speaks literal of the long-tailed rodent, or if it’s simply a new name for the ever-growing list of things he calls your betrothed.

“do you say that to all the whores you fuck?” your words carry a bite, one your own destructive nature hopes will drive him away from you.

“we don’t speak,” he does the opposite, sinking further into you. you become all too aware of the heat returning to your core when he ruts the length of his cock up your folds, coating himself in a thin layer of your lubricant. “sounding like you, they can never achieve it. they can look like you, from the back, at least.”

believing his words to be a lie feels easier than accepting them as truth. the rogue prince has been nothing if not a menace to the streets of silk since the dawn of his sexual maturity, and there is not an inch of you that can fathom him using these vices as a means to quench the desire for you, seeking out your form in faceless, nameless and, apparently, voiceless cunts.

there’s no great lead up to the breaching of your walls, simply another two rolls of his length along your soaked core and a ghost of a kiss against your forehead before the prince is lining himself up and impaling you with his cock.

you’d been warned all about the ache that would come with the breaking of your maidenhead, traumatised at the young ages of four, five, six and onwards of how, someday, your husband would tear you open and leave you a bloodied mess. and, yet, here you lay, a dull ache burning within you, the feel of a pop and the heavy slap of his stones meeting your skin.

“it hurts, i know,” he hushes you when, at last, a pained whimper breaks the surface of your silence, hips stilled and keeping him buried deep in your walls that fight and squeeze and tighten around the intruder. his face, from the little you see of it past the wall of tears building within your eyes, is scrunched up in discomfort, fighting back the instincts that tell him to pull back and fuck himself into you over and over. “but you’re good, and you’re strong, and you can take it. you know you can, just relax.”

you do as your told, far easier than either of you had expected, and find rhythm in his own heavy breathing, matching each inhale and exhale till the soothing of hands over your thighs relaxes the muscles and you manage to retract the nails that dig deep into his back.

the prince moves only once your legs tangle themselves around his waist, spreading you wider and holding him closer.

from there, a symphony ensues, except where normally one would find the melody of a guitar or the blowing of a flute or the beating of a drum, this one is made of skin slapping, mouth kissing, moan singing. the ache builds and builds till it collapses into a pit of delirious pleasure, the kind that opens your eyes as to why it’s so easy for men and women to succumb to the sins of flesh.

“look at you,” his words are rough while his touch is soft, hand gliding over your breasts once more, pinching and pulling at your aching nipples as he puts strength into gazing down at you, intoxicating himself with the way your bodies join at the hip, his cock disappearing into your walls and reemerging coated in your arousal, glimmering beneath the moonlight. “taking me so fucking well. letting me carve out a home for myself in your cunt, huh? gonna let me stay inside you forever?”

he’s manic, and crazed, and spewing out things that you know should make you cringe and roll over in disgust. but you’re just as far gone, mind no longer vacant in your body as you chase that special feeling only the repeated hammering of his tip against your womb can bring.

“let me cum inside, sweetling,” is it more plea or demand? it’s hard to tell, and hard to care, arms circling round the back of his neck and back arching to press chest to chest. the prince ceases his senseless rambling only to lay kisses down your sweat-covered face, neck, chest, each carrying the weight of his desperation to feel you real and breathing beneath him. “stake my claim over this tight little cunt, leave you dripping from how full i make you.”

waves of pleasure crash over you in tandem, unintelligible groans and gasps all that play through the air as hands clamp down and teeth bite skin. your walls spasm around his cock while it twitches within you, both of your peaks painting your bodies in liquid arousal. warmth fills your cunt and trickles out of you, catching on the dark mass of hair that sits above his appendage, the stark white of his cum sickeningly reminding you to the first time you’d seen snow as a child and arousing the same response from you: a desire to taste it.

he collapses down onto you before you get the chance, however, and the exchange of body heat and shallow breaths lulls you both through your states of ecstasy, slipping into a quiet comfort.

the prince moves slowly, as if not to disturb either of you, and shushes you with kisses when you whine at the loss of him from your cunt, softening cock slapping down against your leg. a few moments pass before he’s moving again, this time with you in tow, dragging at the sheets beneath and working them over you both just as you begin to register how cold the chill in the room is. never mind, the dragon keeps you warm against him, limbs tangling as you make a pillow out of his chest.

“my betrothed.” you take the lead this time in breaking the comfortable cloud of silence which had settled itself above your tired bods. the prince merely grunts, disliking the sound of those two words as much as you dislike the taste of them. “i overheard him conversing with an adviser of his.”

“whatever he said, i’ll cut his tongue out and feed him it.” his vulgar threat drags an airy laugh out of you as he mumbles it into the top of your head.

“my maidenhood, that’s what lead him to offering me his hand.” you laugh again, though there is no trace of humour as it devolves into something of a broken, heart-wrenching sob. “gods, i must be so stupid for thinking a man like him could fall in love with me.”

the silence is unnerving, weighs down on your chest with every breath that ebbs and flows between you both. you’re waiting on it, anxiously anticipating the moment laughter breaks out his ribs and shakes his whole body in amusement at your sheer ridiculous expectations, mocking you for giving away your maidenhood in an act so childish as simply not giving your betrothed the satisfaction of taking it.

marriage is politics, you can picture him saying, love is merely a made up tale to entertain children.

daemon never quite has been one for following expectations.

“i could fall in love with you.”

so it is you who winds up laughing, a repeat of that fractured chuckle that dissipates into something more painful and stings at the cracks in your heart.

“you’re not in love with me, daemon,” it feels obvious to say, yet you’re graced with a disagreeing look upon his face. “you’re obsessed with me, there’s a difference.”

“i beg to differ.”

“you see me as nothing but a lady who doesn’t fall at her feet for you, and it excites you. it’s okay, i understand, but i won’t let you delude yourself nor i into believing its love.”

he has no reply to give, not one that could change your mind.

and so there you lay, naked bod pressed to naked bod, sweat and spit and other bodily fluids becoming the glue that hold you together, with limbs entangled and eyes locked. you see peace in his smile and he watches as sleep slowly whisks you away into its warmth.

little does the prince know your eyes will not meet his own again for many years to come.

not days later, as he stands amongst the crowd of folk bearing witness to the exchanging of vows between the tyrell boy and you, nor several years after, as you return to the great hall of the red keep to see the announcement of prince aegon's birth, your own child stood at your side and grasping your hand, the silver-moon upon her head no match to the straw blonde of your husband.

#daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon smut

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Could we possibly get more Faust (lords of chaos) with a Goth GF, there is no where near enough fics of him let alone any of him with a goth gf.

Faust - Gothic girlfriend Part.2

warning : fluff

masterlist

Info : You are totally right dear anon having a goth gf is something that needs to be done more. So here you go and have fun reading everyone else too.

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

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°A few months had passed since Faust had met his gothic girlfriend. Moante in dennen die verbindung de rbeiden only more grew and strengthened.

°For every time he saw her in the moonlight, elegantly pulling on her cigarette in the corner or just giving him a particularly elegant pretty look, he felt his heart beat faster. He reached for a small card and wrote a poem.

°A poem that expressed his admiration and love for her every time. He felt like a little boy when he handed it to her. How her eyes showed knowledge and love, the little smile on her black lips when she kissed the card and pulled him to her.

°,,My sweet bat" she called him most of the time when she put her hand around his arm and they walked around together like an old married couple. He was her guard and protected her from everything. But she needed no protection. Not since he knew that she had a knife in her pencil.

°The blade was wide and extra on Samahein or Hallowween on the thirty-first of October she made a ritual for the band. Sacrificed a chicken that the boys had stolen for her. As she saw in the circle of chalk, the flames of the candles flickered and the chicken disappeared when the candles lit again.

°,,My girlfriend the witch!" the brown-haired man had announced and pulled her into his arms while the rest cheered her on. But their ritual was effective, any danger for the band was averted and the love of the two seemed to grow even more.

°At the latest, they found a small apartment together near Faust's mother, who surprisingly liked his girlfriend. The older woman and the younger one both found pleasure not only in smoking but also in card reading. A friendship that quickly made his witch a member of the family.

°,,Honey, bring your Addams family with you," Faust's mother had once joked, and he saw the smirk on his friend's face. Which told him that she also felt comfortable, which was important to him. He himself knew what it was like to be excluded before he met the black coven.

°But then the day came, the day that put them both to the test. Faust and his friend became parents. Parents of two little black cats. Adam and Eve. Two cats that they had rescued from the shelter. They looked at their parents with their green eyes.

°Of course, this had to be celebrated with a housewarming party in the apartment and the black coven was also there. The interior of the two was dark fist plates hung on the walls and he had brought his room into the apartment.

°His girlfriend had brought her own things. Statues, pentagrams and a considerably large figure of Satan that served as a cat tree.

°It was an apartment that the two of them filled with dark love and made it a dark kingdom. It was perfect for both of them. As well as the cats that got all the attention of their parents. But they also supported their mother and father in painting.

°The witch took up the painting with oil trying to capture her dark world in her mind and Faust took the black charcoal and drew and painted his victims. His fantasies he had and together they spent so many afternoons.

°Until the day she was born. Her birthday was coming up and the gift he gave her could not have made her happier. ,,So you can try it out," he said, revealing to her the black sag he had built himself.

°It can be said that after all the guests had left, the coffin was tested in more than one way, but that passed in the dark night between Faust and his girlfriend.

~~~~~~~~~~~

@burr-soup , @mayhem-things , @valleoddblog , @batzy-watzy , @andrada-boierean , @icarus-star

#lords of chaos #lords of chaos 2018 #valter skarsgård #lords of chaos faust x reader #faust x reader #loc faust x reader #reader is female #afab reader

[writingseaslugs]

Pomefiore: Reader Who's Scared of Storms

I really had fun writing Rook's part; I'm not going to lie; I simp hardcore for the man.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore (You're Here) | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Reader Who’s Scared of Storms

Vil Schoenheit

Vil discovers this small fact when he has to film a movie scene, and it calls for a storm. He invites you to it, and he realizes when you find out exactly what was going on and how you refused. He’s going to calmly ask if you are scared of storms, and once he gets confirmation, he’ll make a mental note to not ask that of you. He’ll even offer to be with you whenever there’s a storm if you call for him and keep that in mind.

Everyone has fears, and he won’t ever make you feel bad for this one. He’ll also offer up a spa day to keep you distracted from the storm raging on outside. He’ll be doing facials and running a warm bath to soak in with some essential oils in there and soothing candles. He just makes the atmosphere very calming, talks to you about his latest projects, and encourages you to tell him about things going on in your life.

Vil keeps his phone off at night so he doesn’t get woken up, so he’ll, of course, be making sure to keep track of storms. You’ll be coming over to his dorms, though, since he refuses to stay at Ramshackle again. The smells of an oil diffuser will be in the air, and he’ll offer you some specially made tea that helps aid sleep. Once you’re basically dozing off, he’ll take you over to the bed and lay down with you, arms around you, and tell you that you’re rather cute when you’re all sedated like this.

Rook Hunt

Rook knew from the moment the first storm of the year hit, and he noticed you off in the distance. He still hadn’t approached you for conversation back then, but he did store it in his mental database. Once you two are familiar with one another and there’s a storm, he’ll inform you and offer for you to stay at Pomefiore during it. If you’re confused, he’ll retell the amazing tale of how he noticed you one fateful day as you screamed like a banshee when a bolt of lightning hit too close and how you dropped all you were carrying and ran to the nearest building without gathering it up. It now made sense to you why all your stuff was sitting at your next-period class that day.

Rook finds this absolutely adorable and isn’t afraid to tell you how cute you look when you’re all jumpy and scared. He tells you how you remind him of a small rabbit right now, ready to bolt at the sound of a branch breaking. Of course, he’ll be grabbing you to hang out with him away from all the noise and maybe telling you some poems he has written as of late. Some of them are comically bad, and he knows it, even looking over to see if you were willing to laugh or try to be polite and encouraging. It’s fine to laugh; he wrote them so you would laugh after all.

He’s your personal storm radar, being able to tell one is brewing the morning of. When you hear a knock at your window and see him there, waiting to be let in, you know shit is about to go down. He is holding a lovely-looking novel, though, and will be reading you to sleep while playing with your hand or anything else he can touch respectfully. If you have hair long enough for him to play with, you bet he’s twirling it around his finger as he watches you slowly grow more drowsy.

Epel Felmier

Epel is pretty oblivious as you two are working on some potions homework. The storm had barely begun, and he hadn’t heard the thunder or seen the lightning. He was far too used to storms rolling around, so he didn’t think anything of it. Until he looked over to ask you a question and saw how frightened you looked. At this point, he still hadn't noticed the storm and will be asking what’s going on, and once you explain, it clicks. He doesn’t understand the fear, but he knows he dislikes seeing you like this.

He’ll reassure you that there’s nothing to fear, and he’ll stay with you until it blows over. If you want, you guys can continue working on your homework, and anytime there’s a crack of thunder, he’ll place his hand over your thigh and tell you it’s alright. If you need something more distracting, then he’ll grab an apple and offer to show you easy carvings to keep your attention elsewhere. He’s a pretty good teacher too, and before you know it, the storm has subsided, and you’ve picked up a new skill.

He enjoys staying up late, no matter what Vil says, so it’s no surprise when he’s still awake to see your message. He has to sneak out of the dorm to head over, but when he does, he has a cold bottle of apple juice and some headphones for you. He’ll sit and talk with you until you’re growing tired enough to fall asleep. Then he’ll curl up with you in bed and run his hand over your thigh as he waits for you to sleep, admiring you as you finally doze off.

#Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #Rook Hunt #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader #Epel Felmier #Epel Felmier x Reader #Epel x Reader

[yamameta-inc]

hi hi i hope you are still doing essay commentary because WOAG this latest oboro visual poem meta thing. messed me UP. predictably your mention of third person perspective is my favourite part of the whole post. im wondering why you chose those specific oboro and gintoki Eye Moments for example. but anything else or anything more on the rainbow body segment that you want to talk about would be wonderful! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

(— groupofcrows main)

yesss thank you for the question! i love talking about this stuff.

So the rainbow body is a phenomenon and concept from Dzogchen, a tradition within Tibetan Buddhism. Essentially, when a master attains full knowledge, their body changes. I'm not going to go into the details here because it's not too relevant, but upon death the master's body will dissolve into light instead of leaving a corpse behind, and then their spirit can go wherever in the world to aid others. (Very much like how I think of Shouyou's final death in the final arc where he The World arcana's himself into sublimation.)

I was originally going to go in a different direction with the collage, but it didn't work with the flow as well, and it was difficult to get suitable quotes. You haven't seen the end of the rainbow body quotes though, I have a bunch more I'm saving for another collage. lol.

Anyway, what's meant by "third person perspective" in the actual definition of the rainbow body is just that this is what's observable to the people around the master. Buddhism is largely concerned with the internal, which is probably why it's phrased this way. I took it and ran though! The first screenshot in that section is of Gintoki's iconic PTSD moment when he sees Utsuro's face for the first time, perfectly coincidentally in the arc where Utsuro is depicted with a LGBT pride aura as he moves for no reason (except, I presume, hilarity). What more significant moment of "knowledge" attainment is there for him? For Oboro, though, that moment of horrified realization is when he "realizes" he's been replaced, that Shouyou getting to live means that he will actually, you know, live his life and move on.

I juxtaposed these moments because, in a way, Gintoki and Oboro are already "third person perspectives" of each other. I've already talked about how Oboro is a retroactively created echo of Gintoki. What's fun in the wording of the quote is that it's the third-person perspective of someone else attaining knowledge, right? Oboro and Gintoki are "at the scene" of their respective deepest horror, with Oboro's image being second because it implicitly frames him as potentially looking at Gintoki. Because that's indeed what happened. Oboro is also always looking at Gintoki, but not at all in the same way as Takasugi.

In the execution pic, he's simply watching the execution--Gintoki is just the guillotine, and despite how terrible this moment is for everyone involved, Oboro isn't haunted by this. Some part of him knows that the worst is yet to come--that Gintoki will survive because of this choice, so one day he may come to the truly horrible realization, Utsuro. And so the images also imply that Oboro is looking at Gintoki's realization with horror. Oboro in the present had already come to this realization long ago, and so he's become empty of all (or almost all...) desires, attachments, resentments and lets himself be dressed by the narrative in priestly attire without protest.

What about Gintoki? He's not watching anything in this moment except his own memories flying past, but we, the viewer, are watching him have this realization. Just as we watch Oboro have his realization, and understand the catalyst for the entire underlying tragedy of Gintama. Which was Gintoki, or rather Oboro seeing Gintoki. In this situation we are also literally the third person. Gintoki finding out about Utsuro is just the sound of a pebble hitting water a very, very long time after Oboro first dropped it into a well over 10 years ago.

But also, Gintoki meeting Utsuro is quite literally why Utsuro has that LGBT pride aura going on. Because Utsuro needs a very dramatic entrance scene, because this is a very tense moment the narrative can't not gas up. So that we can enjoy it as viewers.

#asks

[captmickey]

An Ode to the Royal Guards, a King's Quest fanfic

It's the end of the year, and I felt a spark to write something with the guards to celebrate it... so here we are with my very poor attempt of a "poem".

---

“I'm just saying, I'm feeling rather poetic right about now.”

“Please, for whatever sanity I have left, spare me.”

“Tragically, I cannot do such a thing, it must be said.”

Number One groaned as Number Two took another swig of his drink. It was a warm night in the Mess Hall as the snow fell outside the castle. The chill and somewhat gloom outside contrasted the inside where everyone was enjoying their meals and drinks, the momentary in-between shifts between the morning and evening guards.

And sitting at his usual table with his usual companion was a bothered Number One holding his head in one hand and a mug in another and Number Two who was snickering at his captain’s unamused expression.

“The nicest thing you can do for me is not doing it.” Number One reiterated. “For the safety of both man and country.”

“Oh, nonsense, it's not that bad.” Number Two waved off.

“It shockingly is.”

“You loved the poem about the knights.”

“It–” he paused and contemplated, “okay, that was a good poem. However, one does not negate the dozens upon dozens of terrible poetry.”

“Oh! Are we about to be regaled with more worthy poetry?” Kyle beamed, sitting across from the two higher ups.

“Prepare the buckets.” Number One snark, warranting a nudge from Number Two.

“Ah, it's not that bad.” Larry defended.

“See?” Number Two pointed. “He likes them!”

“Yeah, because they're hilarious, especially when the rhymes make no sense.” Number Three explained, taking a seat alongside the others.

Number One nearly choked on his drink from laughter as Number Two glared.

“So what's the name of your latest masterpiece?” Larry asked.

“A farewell to my remaining sanity.” Number One muttered. “Please stop indulging him.”

“On the contrary, keep indulging!” Number Two grinned, took a sip and stood up. “Showtime!”

“Stars, help me.” Number One covered his eyes.

Placing a metal boot on the table (and ignoring Number One’s bemoaning to not place his dirty foot on the bloody table), Number Two cleared his throat to gather most of the attention in the Mess Hall and raised his mug.

“And now, an Ode to the Royal Guards!” He began.

“Will it actually be an ode this time?” Kyle whispered to a snickering Larry.

“Only one way to find out.” Number Three took a sip of her own drink.

“To the Royal Guard, who work so hard

At protecting and serving.

I’m at awe with you and with all that you do,

That lets me admire the land I adore.

From the magical faes to the stormy days,

You guard all with heart.

The goblins will pounce, Number One will frounce,

But your bravery never wavers.

With your boots polished and armor untarnished,

There’s nothing that can’t be accomplished.

The gloomy day, we try to keep at bay,

Will be done with vim and vigor.

Addendums and rules, plus Betsy that drools,

The castle will stand tall and true.

So I say to you, as Number Two,

That we will always do our best.

And it will all be done, thanks to Number One.”

“However this poem has dragged on, so please, just be done. And with that, we say good night.” Number One finished.

Number Two to look at him wide-eyed with a smile to match before shouting alongside everyone in the mess hall who applauded the disgruntled captain who smirked and raised a mug along his men.

#kings quest #mickey writes #happy new year everyone!

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I made a post a year ago, I think, about how I enjoy that this site has a few blogs that are entirely dedicated to being obsessed with Tim Key, so everyone once in a while I’ll open Tumblr and be flooded with images of Tim Key, because the Tim Key blogs have decided to be active today, and I guess it’s Tim Key Monday.

Well, this time, for once, it’s been Tim Key Week in my comedy calendar, and it’s been a good time. Here are some things this week has covered:

- It started because Tim Key recently went on RHLSTP, and someone recommended it to me, so I listened to that latest episode. This was the first episode I’d ever heard of that podcast (aside from that YouTube video of the car crash with Stewart Lee) because I’m not a massive fan of Richard Herring, but I really enjoyed that one. So then I listened to the other three appearances that Tim Key has made on there, all within the last few years, because Tim Key has been very busy with writing books lately (just putting out his third book since the start of COVID) and keeps going on there to promote them. But then he ends up not promoting them, and just spending the whole time talking shit about Richard Herring.

God, he’s ridiculously quick. He just goes right into character and stays there the entire time, he can take anything Richard Herring says and spin it around in a split second and hit him back with it. Really sharp and can make absolutely anything funny. Literally anything. I re-watched that DVD extra interview he did with Simon Amstell last night, and that really highlighted how much he can make the most mundane thing in the world hilarious.

It's amazing style, I think. Be just a few steps outside of what is normal and reasonable to say, but say it with full confidence, and then ask other people what’s wrong with them when they don’t keep up. I’d previously seen him do it for five sets of No More Jockeys, and delighted in hearing he’s like that all the time.

- I enjoyed that, so got sent some more Tim Key things. His Radio 4 documentaries, of which I had heard one before, because it featured Kitson, and earlier this year I did my huge trek through every weird tiny thing where Daniel Kitson might have had even the most obscure role (I watched a terrible movie called Dog Eat Dog, the rabbit hole went deep, and the rabbit hole contained a Tim Key documentary about a Russian novelist). But I hadn’t heard some others, so I spent an evening listening to Tim Key talk about Russian poets and writers and how to start a novel, and that was lovely. I enjoyed that.

- But the main things I got were a couple of recordings of his old stand-up shows, and this album he recorded in 2010, called On a Boat With a String Quartet, where he reads poetry and talks shit to Tom Basden. I really, really enjoyed listening to Tim Key read poetry and talk shit to Tom Basden. I realized I have heard that before, as they were together on season 2 of Mark Watson Makes the World Substantially Better, and on Mark Watson’s Live Address to the Nation, and they did basically the same thing there. This album made me remember how much I enjoyed those radio shows, partly because of how much I enjoy listening to Tim Key read poetry and talk shit to Tom Basden. “Wow,” I thought. “I wish there were only some way of hearing more of Tim Key reading poetry while talking shit to Tom Basden.” Then I remembered he has a five-season radio show that I’ve somehow never heard before.

- So next on the list was the Late Night Poetry Programme, which I’d been vaguely meaning to listen to “at some point” for ages, and this was clearly that time. God, it was good. I’d heard Tim’s poems before in various contexts, but really enjoyed hearing so many of them at once. And the soundscape was nice. And of course it was fun when he talked shit to Tom Basden.

I think the first few seasons were pretty well perfect, just those two in a studio with little hints of their life outside it, dropped through a line or a word or two, throwaway jokes where the meaning hits you a little at a time as you realize what it implies about the life they live. It was cool at first, when they started opening it up and we actually saw that bigger world that they’d been teasing for a while. By season 5, I have to admit, I felt like it had gone too far. Which they acknowledged several times, Tom Basden making comments that they’d gotten too far away from season 1 and Tim Key doesn’t even read his poems anymore. But I did kind of think the character was right. The sitcom was still fun, I enjoyed every episode. But I think my favourties were when it was just two people in a studio reading poetry.

Katy Wix was good, though. And I did enjoy the guest stars throughout all five seasons. That turned into a game that I was able to play due to my abysmal lack of talent for identifying people based on the sound of their voice alone. Because I’m so bad at it, I avoided looking at the notes beforehand, and tried to guess who that episode’s guest voice actor was, and would then hear in the credits whether I was right. I was quite bad at it. I went through an entire episode with Sally Phillips, and two entire episodes with Mike Wozniak, convinced that they were played by people I’d never heard before, even though I know both those voices quite well.

I only guessed a few. By the end of Isy Suttie’s episode, I was about 80% sure it was Suttie, and then I turned out to be right. I got Bridget Christie’s voice right away, though that’s partly because I knew from a No More Jockey’s episode that she’d show up at some point, and she hadn’t been on it yet and this was the last episode, so it had to be her. The only voice where I was immediately, 100% sure who it was was when they had Liam Williams on. Absolutely no question there. That is an extremely distinctive voice, it was almost distracting because every time he spoke I just thought “Oh it’s Liam Williams” rather than believing it was a farmer or whatever.

- After that, I wanted even more Key & Basden, and I remembered how Stuart Goldsmith says that his best evidence for why TV isn’t a meritocracy is that Cowards never got more than three TV episodes. So I downloaded those TV episodes. But of course I have to do things in order, so first I downloaded the radio episodes. Did the radio show and then the TV show.

I really liked those, and I’m often not big on sketch comedy. These were fucking great, though. The TV show had quite a few sketches that I could see myself re-watching on YouTube one at a time. And that’s nice, because for years I’ve done that regularly with Mitchell and Webb, but these days I watch those and have trouble enjoying them as much because, you know, transphobia. I guess I should stop being shocked when it turns out that Footlights men from the early 00s may not be the most clued-up people in the world about trans issues (Webb, Ayoade). But if Tim Key or Tom Basden or those other two guys (sorry, I do vaguely know they both have quite good careers in their own right, but in my mind they are those other two guys) in Cowards have any views on trans people whatsoever, I’d like them to keep that to themselves so I can have some new sketches to re-watch on YouTube without feeling guilty. No more Footlights guys from the early 00s should be allowed to talk about trans people (except John Oliver, actually Mark Watson’s made some pro-trans rights statements too, they can stay).

Anyway, the point is that I really enjoyed the sketches. They all seemed so cohesive – the characters, and the plots, and the actors. A lot of sketches didn’t end on huge punchlines, which I always think is the sign of a good sketch, if it’s funny enough to get laughs throughout and not just for a twist at the end. Really good stuff. I see Stuart Goldsmith’s point.

- Then I still hadn’t had enough Key & Basden on Radio 4, so I downloaded the sitcom Party. That was pretty good. The jokes were consistent and funny, which is the main point. I have to admit the premise didn’t work quite as well today as it might have then, which is not Tom Basden’s fault, as you can’t have expected him to foresee the fall of Western civilization back in 2010. In 2010, I remember that the idea of naïve youths involved in politics was funny. Straw feminists and all that. Whereas these days, the situation is so dire that if I see a young person who’s politically engaged, I don’t want to make fun of them for being underinformed anymore. I just want to say “Thank you for doing anything besides making Tik-Tok videos and listening to Joe Rogan while Rome burns.”

Having said that, the point of this show was not exactly to be hard-hitting satire of student politics, it was to be a vehicle for jokes. And it did that very well. It was funny. The characters were good, too. Five different main characters it a lot for a sitcom that started with only four half-hour episodes, but by the end of the very first episode, I had a clear idea of who was who. I could tell their voices apart, which helps (Tim Key’s voice I know, Tom Basden’s voice sounds a bit too similar to Johnny Sweet’s but I could tell them apart if I tried hard enough, I can tell Katy Wix’s Welsh accent apart from Anna Crilly). And each character was sufficiently distinctive for me to see why they were there.

- Just today, I watched The One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island, written by and starring Key & Basden. I enjoyed it. Short films, or films in general, aren’t hugely my thing. But I liked the pretty shots of English countryside. I liked the dismal shots of the ocean in bad weather and little rowboats and the old house. And it was a nice story starring a folk singer and an eccentric person, and what more could I want out of some characters?

I know Tim Key has done a bunch of short films before, some with Tom Basden. The only other one I’ve seen is Very Few Fish, which I watched entirely because of that bit at the end of a No More Jockeys episode, where Tim lists all the Taskmaster contestants he has or hasn’t touched, and says he’s kissed Aisling Bea, on screen. I found out that he’d kissed her in this weird short film written by Tom Basden, so I watched that out of curiosity.

And found… it was quite a good film, probably deserved to get more commissioned. But I didn’t like the bit where he made out with Aisling Bea. I’d just watched all this No More Jockeys, where he’s in his house and playing himself so I felt like I knew him. And I don’t want to see people I know graphically make out with other people. It’s like when your friend is doing PDA at a party. It’s even weirder than when a stranger does it, because you just think, I don’t want to see you that way. I know you, I like you, that side of you is meant to be kept behind closed doors please. That’s what Very Few Fish felt like. Like following a friend on a date and watching him make out with someone. It was weird.

That’s an interesting level of parasocial relationship, isn’t it? Watching No More Jockeys has parasoically made me feel like that guy is my friend, but the effect is not for me to try to hang out with him on social media or anything creepy like that, the only effect is I don’t want to watch him kiss anyone. That’s probably okay, as far as these things go.

- Last night, I tried the first episode of We Need Answers. I’d have absolutely loved to see the stage version of this, I have collected pictures and short videos of it from various corners of the internet (including those fucking unhinged promo videos on Alex Horne’s YouTube channel that introduce the contestants), they had all the best comedians and it seems like a great showcase of my peak area of interest, which is 00s Edinburgh comedy.

However, I’ve always avoided the TV show because the list of guests is awful. Almost no comedians, heavy on presenters and reality show people. It didn’t help that the first episode featured noted transphobe Germaine Greer (also, as I always feel the need to add when her name comes up, she wasn’t some perfect feminist who was ruined by going TERF, I always disliked some of the comments she’d made about cis women who didn’t fit the type of womanhood that she liked, and I hate the she’s held us as an example of great feminism). So I’m open to giving it another shot. Does anyone have opinions on whether it gets better in the future? The first episode was all right, but I didn’t enjoy it all that much.

So that is my Tim Key binge. Does anyone have recommendations for things I’ve missed? Especially short films, I know there are other good ones. Happy Tim Key Thursday, everyone!

[folkdances]

HI EVERYONE i just published my latest substack post which features two of the poems i wrote in september as well as a prose piece i wrote back in 2022 that won my college's writing contest ^_^ consider checking it out RIGHT HERE ! :

#my writing #txt

[writing-for-life]

It’s Monday, and I usually post the latest chapter of my fic on Mondays. Alas, the thing is fully published: 76,000 words and 30 chapters (the 31st is just emotional blurb).

I’m sad. But I’m writing the sequel, so I’m happy, too. And sad...

So here you go, all things “The Light of Stars” in one post: The fic, little sequel snippets, the thing that started it all and the... reviews?

Links to all individual chapters (and yes, the art is by me, I’ve been told I should stop being shy about it), but they will also take you straight to Ao3:

And if you would like a little snippet of the sequel (it doesn’t give away any major plot points), here’s one:

And here's the drabble/poem-like something that started out as a Writerly prompt and ended up inspiring something that has been taking over (part of) my life:

And now I’ll really flog the goods and give you a couple of comments (no one ever reads these fic advertisements anyway, so I might as well be shameless 😂):

There are something like 200 comments on 80 comment threads on TLoS. I’m so grateful for everyone who was on this journey with me, and above all: engaged. Because half of this means nothing if there's no one to share it with.

Some of you are on here (you know who you are), but I just wanted to say that this was really the best part for me, and what I look most forward to for the sequel:

Being in that space with you 💕

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #sandman #the sandman fanfiction #sandman fanfiction #sandman fanfic