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gigabyte-flare · 1 year

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There's No Escape (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: You find out the hard way what happens when Leon doesn't get what he wants, after all, actions have consequences, don't they?

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 4.8k

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay, masterbation, drugging. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings may be added in the future

THIS PART CONTAINS EXPLICIT VIOLENCE AND GORE, READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Tags: @lipglossanon, @ghostkennedy, @hxllfiredoll, @nexyswrites, @ilookatlater, @shroomietrip, @dollrxst, @lomaeuwu (Shoot me a message or an ask if you want to be added to the list!)

A/N: Ok first off, I did not intend to make this part this long, but I was on a roll and the words just kept coming out (plus I wanted to get to the good stuff, you guys have waited long enough). Thank you again for all the support and love on this extremely self indulgent piece. I tried to proof read this one as best as I could without going cross eyed, so again, please excuse any grammatical errors. Enjoy!

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You both sat in the living room of your apartment in silence. It was some ungodly hour in the morning, you didn’t bother to check. Neither of you could sleep. You both ensured that the front door was dead-bolted and all the windows were locked before settling into the living room. You couldn’t help but feel guilt wash over you as you silently cried. It was never your intention to drag Becky into this mess. You figured Leon would just move on. Clearly you were mistaken.

“Listen, Becky, I’m really sorry,” you say, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Sorry for what?”

“I put you in danger by moving in with you. If I knew Leon would be pulling this crap, I wouldn’t have come here.”

Becky let out a loud sigh, “we’re best friends. You would have done the same for me.”

You nod silently, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging them.

“What I can’t wrap my head around is how he figured out where you worked so fast. Clearly that ‘prank call’ the other day was him. What did you say he did for a living again?”

You swallow hard before answering, “he works for the gov--”

Your eyes widen. The word “government” flashes in your mind like a curse. How could you have been so stupid? It’s a wonder he hadn’t tracked you down sooner.

“He works for the what now?”

“The government.”

You both stare at each other, the silence deafening.

“And… what exactly does he do for the government?”

“He’s some kind of special ops agent. Military training and all that…”

You watch Becky rub her face into her hands, exhaling loudly.

“Becky, I’m sorry…”

“It’s a miracle you’re not dead,” Becky’s muffled voice responds from under her hands before dropping them, “what the hell did you see in him anyway?”

“He was wonderful at first,” you reply, pulling out your phone and opening the photo gallery.

You scroll back to six months ago, when you and Leon first started dating. There were a million pictures of him and the two of you together. He wasn’t exactly smiling in the pictures, but you could tell he loved you. But, then, you notice subtle details in the photos; the way he was gripping your waist too tightly in one photo, his cold eyes in the next. There was one photo that stood out to you, he had you in a vice grip with one arm with his nose buried in your hair while you laughed. It was a candid photo but you couldn’t help but be unsettled by it now, given your current circumstances. This man was a walking red flag and you totally missed it.

“Maybe I should move,” you suddenly say.

“Absolutely not!” Becky exclaims, “we’re in this together! It’s way too dangerous for you to be out there on your own!”

“What am I supposed to do?! It’s not like I can go to the police and be like ‘Hi yes? I have a trained government agent that’s stalking me’ now, can I? They’ll never believe me!”

Becky shook her head, “I don’t know what we’re going to do but we’ll figure out something. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Becky.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was a bright, sunny day in Boston. You were coming out of the Dunkin’ Donuts right down the street from your apartment with a tray with two iced coffees as you made your way down the sidewalk. Your cellphone began to ring, you pulled it out to answer it.

Caller ID Unknown

You roll your eyes and reject the call. Before you even had a chance to put it back in your pocket, it began ringing again. The ID still said Caller ID Unknown. Again, you reject the call, but again, it immediately starts ringing. Annoyed now, you answer it. You hear a voice before you even have a chance to speak.

“Is one of those iced coffees for me? You shouldn’t have, princess.”

“Leon?!” You stop dead in your tracks and look around to see if you see him anywhere, but you don’t.

You hear him lick his lips, “Did you wear that sundress on purpose? You know that’s my favorite one, baby.”

“You fucking pig, leave me alone!”

“Now, now… what have I told you about swearing at Daddy? What a bad girl you are.”

Your heart is pounding out of your chest as you continue to whip your head around to see if you can see him, but you don’t, which makes you panic even more.

“Where the fuck are you Leon?! Stop hiding!”

You hear him laugh on the other end. Pissed off now, you hang up on him and run down the street, being mindful of the iced coffees in the tray. You had to get back to the apartment. You didn’t care what Becky said, you were moving out. You had no clue where you would go, but you knew you had to get as far away from here as possible. You’d drive to the ends of the earth if you had to.

You get to your apartment and rush up to the front door, digging your keys out from your pocket while precariously balancing the iced coffee tray in your other hand. You finally get a hold of your keys and start opening the front door.

“Becky, listen, we need to talk--”

You stop mid sentence as the door swings completely open, letting out an eerie squeak. You let out a loud gasp, dropping the tray and the iced coffees as you bring both hands to cover your mouth in shock.

There is blood everywhere.

Your eyes darted from the kitchen cabinets, to the island, to the fridge; everything had blood splattered all over it. Your eyes eventually settle on something laying on the floor. It was Becky, her eyes open wide and her mouth open in a silent scream as blood seeped from the large gash going across her neck.

You’re frozen in place, you can’t take your eyes off Becky’s lifeless form. You weren’t even gone for an hour; you were just talking to her this morning when she mentioned she was dying for an iced coffee. She had a school project to work on so she wasn’t able to go with you to go get Dunks like you normally would.

Hesitantly, you walk through the door and approach Becky’s body, a small part of you hoping she was somehow still alive. Your whole body trembles as you stand before her. Suddenly, you hear the front door squeak and slam shut, causing you to jump and turn around.

You see Leon, his hand holding the front door shut as he flips his beloved combat knife in his other hand. He lets out a low chuckle as he walks up to you, bringing the blood soaked knife to his lips, licking the blade clean before sheathing it.

“Baby, I didn’t want to have to kill Becky, but she left me no choice. You understand, right?”

“Fuck you!” your voice is like venom as you run over to one of the cabinets, whipping it open.

You start grabbing glasses and throwing them at him, which he effortlessly deflects with his hand as he continues to stalk towards you. You bolt from the kitchen and attempt to get into the living room, however you slip on Becky’s blood, falling to the floor, smacking your face hard against the hardwood floor.

Now dazed, you attempt to get back up but feel Leon grab you from behind by your underarms, standing you up and holding you against his body.

“You naughty girl,” Leon growled, kissing the back of your right earlobe, “Daddy’s going to have to teach you some manners.”

You desperately struggle in his grasp, however his grip on you is relentless. Looking out the window as you struggle, you realize the window has a clear view of the Dunks that you had just come from.

He was inside the apartment when he called.

“You fucking monster!” you scream, slamming your foot down on one of his boots; he doesn’t flinch.

“Oh princess… it seems you already forgot the rules, haven’t you? That’s fine. I have other ways of keeping you under control.”

You hear him grab something from his pocket and before you can react, you feel a sharp pain in the right side of your neck, making you flinch.

“What the hell was that?!” you cry out, feeling a strange sensation start to overtake your entire body.

“Shhhhhh it’s ok, it’s just to help you relax. Daddy’s got you, you’re safe with me sweetheart,” Leon purrs, kissing the back of your head as his hand runs through your hair.

Your movements quickly became sluggish, subconsciously grateful Leon was holding you up, otherwise you would have collapsed onto the floor. Your eyelids were getting heavy and before you knew it, the embrace of darkness took you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was well into the evening before Leon finished cleaning the mess left behind from Becky. One of the first things he did was wrap her body in a blanket and weigh it down with a chain and cinder block before dumping her into the bay. Thanks to his connections in the government, Becky would soon be erased from existence. You were safe in his Wrangler, sleeping soundly. Even if you somehow woke up from the tranquilizer, you wouldn’t be able to open the doors from the inside.

He then began gathering some of your things. He grabbed some of your clothes, toiletries and some of your books and your gaming console. There might be times he has to go out on assignments, so you would need something to do while he’s gone; he hated the thought of leaving you though. Once he was confident he had everything he needed, he locked up the apartment, got into his Jeep and started the engine. He had a very long drive ahead of him.

His destination was a plot of land just above the Northernmost part of Baxter State Park in Maine. He had purchased property up there and built a large cabin shortly after he got back from Spain. While he told you he was out on an assignment a few weeks ago, he was actually up at the cabin getting things ready to move you in. His original plan was to get back to the apartment in D.C. and bring you up there to your new home, however your disappearing act had put a wrench in that plan. He was thankful he trusted his gut and put the GPS tracker in your Renegade.

Thankfully, traffic was light, so he was able to get onto I-95 North relatively quickly. He glances over at you, sleeping peacefully. He could see your eyes moving underneath your eyelids.

“I wonder what you’re dreaming about, sweetie,” he says softly, using the back of his fingers to stroke your cheek before returning his attention back to the road, “I hope it’s me.”

He reaches up to the sun visor above him, grabbing a mix CD from the CD holder and putting it into the CD player. The song “Bullets” by Creed began to play. As the song picked up, he sang quietly to himself as his right hand moved from the stick shift to your thigh, rubbing it tenderly.

As he drove, his mind drifted towards the future. He imagined you finally coming around, living happily together, maybe even getting married. He imagined at least a couple little Kennedys running around the cabin, playing tag or whatever it was kids do these days. He imagined you in the kitchen making dinner and him walking up behind you, placing his arms around your waist to rub your belly that would be pregnant with another little Kennedy; the picture perfect family. He could feel himself grow hard, but he would not stop to indulge himself; perhaps when you both finally got to the cabin. He hoped by then you’d be awake.

He was looking forward to finally making his dream a reality.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Your eyes slowly flutter open and the first thing you feel is the skull crushing headache you have. You wince and try to sit up. You quickly realize you’re in bed. Was all that with Leon a dream? Was Becky alive still? You swing your legs around to get out of bed but you're jerked back by something cold around your neck. You blink, becoming hyper aware of your surroundings. You realize, too, that you were now in jeans and a t-shirt. This is not your bedroom at the apartment. You reach your hands to your neck and find you’re fitted with a metal collar that is attached to a chain, you look behind you; the chain is bolted into the wall.

“Oh what the fuck…”

You try to pull on the chain, but the bolts don’t budge, that’s when you realize your hands and ankles are also bound together by chains. You start hyperventilating.

What’s going on, why am I chained to the wall? Why am I chained in general? Where the fuck am I?

“You’re finally awake.”

Your head snaps up at the sound of Leon’s voice; you didn’t even hear him approach. He’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, only wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that barely clung to his hips. His blue eyes gaze at you longingly.

“You’ve been an awfully bad girl, so Daddy had to punish you.” he says, his eyebrows furrowing in anger.

“Where’s Becky?!”

“Becky? I don’t know anyone named Becky,” Leon says in a ‘as a matter of fact’ tone.

“You fucking liar! You fucking killed her!”

Leon charged over to you, slapping you across the face. You cry out, holding your hand up to your face as your cheek stung from the aftershock of the slap.

“What did I tell you about swearing at Daddy, you dumb bitch?!”

You start sobbing uncontrollably, your body shaking, “I’m… I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry what?”

“I’m sorry… Daddy…”

“That’s much better,” Leon cooed, stroking the top of your head, “such a good girl.”

You absolutely loathe calling him ‘Daddy,’ it made you sick to your stomach. Leon sat on the bed next to you, continuing to stroke the top of your head.

“Do we need to go over the rules again, babygirl?”

You gave him a nod.

“Use your words, sweetie.”

“Yes…” you swallow hard, “Daddy…”

“Alright,” he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, “you remember the most important one, don’t you?”

“Be respectful, no swearing or backtalk… I have to listen to what you tell me to do.”

“That’s right. And?”

“I address you as… Daddy… I think you said sir was ok too but you prefer…” you wince like you have a bad taste in your mouth, “Daddy.”

“Such a smart girl, what else?”

“I can’t leave the apartment… erm…” you glance around the room, “house… without your permission.”

Leon gives you a gentle smile as he strokes your cheek, “see? You remember the rules just fine. However, Daddy had to make a new rule now that we’re here, ok?”

You swallow hard, your anxiety skyrocketing.

“Remember, you need to answer when I’m talking to you.”

“Ok… Daddy…”

He grabs onto the collar and pulls you to him, “when you misbehave, you go into the timeout room until Daddy thinks you’re ready to come out.”

“Is this… is this the timeout room?”

“So perceptive! Yes, baby, this is the timeout room,” he replies before giving you a kiss on the lips.

You reciprocate the kiss as much as it kills you inside to do so. He releases the collar and stands up from the bed. He stops at the threshold of the room, looking back at you.

“You must be so hungry, sweetheart, do you want Daddy to make you something to eat?”

“Yes, please.”

Leon narrows his eyes again in a silent threat.

“Yes please, Daddy…”

Seemingly satisfied with your response, he turns and leaves the room, shutting the timeout room door behind him. You take a deep breath, taking in your surroundings. The room had no windows or clock, so you had no way of gauging what time it was. You look up into the corner and see a camera, you reckon that’s how he knew you were awake; it probably has a motion detector in it. You take stock of your current situation. One saving grace was you were at least fully clothed, but you imagined that wasn’t going to last long. You couldn’t help but regret leaving D.C. to begin with; yeah you were trapped in an apartment in D.C., but you at least weren’t chained to a goddamn wall and Becky was alive.

Becky… I’m so sorry…

You hoped she at least put up a fight. Judging by the gruesome scene you stumbled upon, she had. However, you knew that Leon was practically unstoppable, you remember specifically his kicks were especially deadly. He told you stories about how he snapped people’s necks simply by roundhouse kicking them. However, from the looks of things he simply used his knife.

At one point, you thought that was so hot.

You bury your head into your hands and cry. You felt completely helpless and you hated it. You hated Leon with every fiber of your being.

“Oh sweetheart, please don’t cry,” you hear Leon say.

Again, you snap your head back up and find him in the doorway. He had a plate with a fork as well as a glass of water. As he approaches you, you see that he had made you waffles.

“I made you your favorite. Daddy loves you so much.”

“What time is it… D-Daddy?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“It’s just before 11, just in time for breakfast, sweetie,” he replies as he hands you the plate and fork.

“W-Where are we exactly…?”

He narrows his eyes for a moment, however, his expression quickly softens as he answers, “we’re home, that’s all you need to know, babygirl,” he brings his lips to your temple, giving you a soft kiss.

You fiddle with the fork in your right hand for a second, contemplating if you should try to stab it into his neck. Unfortunately the damn thing is made of that biodegradable shit, you foresee that ending badly. On top of that, it was one of those safety forks that you couldn’t break and turn into a sharp object, like the ones they give to inmates in prison.

That’s what this place is, not home, but a fucking prison.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s late; the only thing lighting the living room is the soft glow of the TV as Leon mindlessly surfs through channels in his recliner. The picture was a tad fuzzy since satellite television was the only thing Leon could get working out here, but he didn’t mind. He suddenly came upon an old sitcom, the scene playing out a wife doing the dishes and her husband coming home from work, kissing her on the cheek before taking off his coat. The man’s two children run in, hugging his legs.

Leon felt his heart sink at the sight. There were three things in life that he always wanted: to protect people, to find a nice girl to settle down with and to start a beautiful family. He didn’t really have a family growing up, his biological family was killed having been involved heavily in crime. He was adopted by a police officer, which inspired Leon to become a police officer himself. However, his dream was shattered the night he drove into Raccoon City on his first day being on the force.

To make matters worse, he was immediately taken in by the U.S. Government and interrogated about what happened that night and then ‘asked’ to join a top secret agency, mostly dealing with incidents involving B.O.W.s. His trip to Spain was no different, having been sent there to rescue the president’s daughter. Things were different that time, however, as he was able to get her safely back home after removing the Las Plagas parasite even though he had gotten infected himself in the process. He almost didn’t make it back, but by some miracle, the president’s daughter was able to remove the parasite from him before it completely consumed him.

When he returned from Spain, even though the mission was an overwhelming success, he still felt empty. He had no one to come home to; no wife to kiss him on the cheek and ask him how his day was. No kids to run up to him to give him a hug, to tell him how much they missed their Daddy.

He got up from the recliner abruptly and turned off the TV. He walks up to the timeout room door and slowly opens it. You were sleeping, you looked so peaceful in the low light from the nightlight in the room. He stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him before approaching the bed. He sat down next to your sleeping form, watching you for a few minutes. A smile forming on his lips, he runs his hand up your leg gently, causing you to stir in your sleep.

“L-Leon…?” you wake with a yawn, “is it morning? What time is it?”

Leon grew slightly irritated at the fact you didn’t address him correctly, but he let it slide for now.

“Daddy has decided he’s going to let you come out of timeout,” he said softly, “but only if you do something for me.”

You rub your eyes before propping yourself up on one elbow to face him, your eyes still dazed from sleep.

“What do you want me to do…?” you ask, your eyelids still heavy.

He leans over you, putting his lips up to your ear and whispering, “let Daddy fuck a baby into you.”

He hears your breath begin to tremble.

“Please, sweetie, please give Daddy a baby,” Leon continues, practically moaning in your ear.

You shake your head as tears form in your eyes; you sit up and press yourself against the headboard, and you look down at the tent in his sweatpants. Looking down at himself, his right hand goes into his sweatpants, pulling out his throbbing cock, giving himself a couple strokes, precum now dripping from the tip.

“Sweetie look, you’re making him cry. All he wants is to be inside you and give you a baby.”

Again, you shake your head at him, tears dripping off your face.

He frowns, bringing his free hand up to caress your cheek while the other continues to stroke his cock, “there is nothing to be afraid of, Daddy will take such good care of you when you’re pregnant, I promise.”

“Get away from me!” you whimper, pushing his hand away from your face.

Anger begins to boil within him, the frown quickly turning into a scowl. His free hand then grasps your throat, practically choking you. He watches as you struggle against his grasp, desperately trying to breathe but are not able to.

“You’re going to have my baby whether you like it or not, so we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, sweetheart. The choice is yours and I can tell you right now, you will not like the hard way,” he growled, tightening his grip on your throat.

“I… I… I’m….” you try to speak, but his grip on you is too tight.

Leon sees this and loosens his grip on you.

“I-I’m sorry Daddy, I’m really sorry Daddy. I’ll give you a baby, please don’t hurt me…”

A sinister smile overtakes him. He removes his hand from your throat.

“That’s my good girl,” he says, standing up, “you’re gonna make Daddy so happy.”

Leon grabs your jeans, ripping them off your body, only leaving your thin lace panties. He then removes his sweatpants, now completely naked.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commands.

You quickly comply, propping yourself up on your hands and knees. He kneels onto the bed as he looms over you, pushing you forward into the bed so that your ass is in the air.

“I was going to treat you and eat your pussy out before I pound a baby into you, but since you insist on being a bad girl, we’re skipping the foreplay tonight.”

“I’m sorry D-Daddy!” you cry, your voice muffled into the bed, “I’m sorry for being a bad girl…”

Ignoring you, he can’t help but see the dark spot on your panties; he lets out a low chuckle.

“Look at how wet you already are! And here you are telling me that you don’t want this. Silly girl…”

His fingers grab your panties and rips them off you, tossing them aside. He gazes upon your glistening pussy, unconsciously licking his lips. Grabbing your hips, he buries his mouth into your leaking hole, lapping up your juices. He hears you let out a soft moan.

“Oh fuck… your pussy tastes so good, I know I said I wasn’t going to eat you out, but I couldn’t help myself when your pussy was begging for Daddy’s tongue.”

He sits back up, grasping his cock in one hand while he aligns it up to your entrance. Without warning, he begins vigorously thrusting into you. He grabs your ass with both hands, putting all his energy into every trust. At first, he could hear quiet whimpers come out of you, watching your fingers claw into the sheets. He readjusts himself so that he was kneeling on one knee, giving himself a better angle to pound into your cervix. Now you were letting out loud moans, pushing your hips back to meet his eager thrusts.

“Oh, what a good girl you are! Daddy’s perfect little angel.”

His hands run up the sides of your body, slipping beneath your shirt and grabbing hold of your breasts. You moan his name as he rolls your nipples between his fingers.

Again with you not addressing him correctly…

He lets out a sigh, deciding it was fine, you get so drunk on his cock, so he decided a little lapse in the rules in the heat of passion was fine. Grabbing hold of your chest, he pulls you up so that your back is against him as he continues to pound into your hungry pussy.

“My princess loves Daddy’s cock, doesn’t she? You can’t hide that from me no matter how hard you try,” he growls before pulling out of you and turning you around to face him.

He pushes you back down onto the bed, pushing your legs forward and draping them onto his shoulders. He sheathes himself back into you, leaning in to devour your lips.

“D-Daddy… I’m… I’m… I’m gonna…”

“Don’t cum yet, sweetie, wait and cum with Daddy, ok?”

You nod, letting out a whimper and leaning your head back onto the pillow, your eyes rolling into your head as he continues his assault on your pussy. He can feel that he’s close to his release; in preparation for this his thrusts become short but intoxicatingly deep, causing him to let out a low, animalistic growl.

His growl must have affected you because he felt you instantly cum on his cock, causing him to hit his own release, shooting hot ropes of cum into you as he pressed into you. He held himself there for several minutes until his cock stopped pulsating. He slowly pulled out and looked down at you, admiring his handiwork. He watched his cum start to leak out, using his fingers, he scooped it up and pushed it back into you. He didn’t want to waste a drop.

“Stay like that ok, sweetie? Daddy has to go get the keys to bring you out of timeout.”

Grabbing his sweatpants off the floor, he slips them back on before walking back out into the kitchen. The sun was just starting to come into the windows. He walks up to a safe that’s embedded into the wall; it's the kind with the turn style lock. He inputs the combination, grabbing a couple keys from it before shutting it. He goes back into the bedroom, smiling when he sees you haven’t moved.

What a good girl.

He walks up to the bed, unlocking your collar first before removing the chains from your wrists and ankles. He then picks you up effortlessly, bridal style, taking you out of the timeout room and into the master bedroom. He gently lays you down, giving you a kiss on the forehead. He then climbs into bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, falling asleep within seconds.

Part 4

#there's no escape #gigabyte writes #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy smut

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keys-hellscape-1020 · 11 months

Text

Yeet.

A/N: this is just pure word vomit. I’m so sorry. The title is SO bad but I was giggling so hard when I wrote it. Also this is literally so fucking self-indulgent.

Summary: Spider-People have a sixth sense. This is common knowledge to anyone who intimately knows one. What you didn’t know however was that it can occasionally misinterpret intentions, leading to disastrous results.

Hobie Brown x gn!Reader

Contents: No use of Y/N, anxiety mentions, reader gets full on thrown through a window, reader dissociates (symptoms of dissociation are described in depth), reader gets injured, angst, hurt/comfort

————

It was mid-afternoon, the sun starting to lower towards the sky-line as you hauled your bags back from the grocery store. It wasn’t a long walk, not by any means, by the bags were heavy with ingredients for dinner and the sun was at the perfect angle to shine in your eye.

As you dragged yourself through the lobby of your apartment you could feel your heart flutter at the gentle vibration of your phone in your pocket. Hobie must be telling you that he entered through the window. How you longed to see him, today had been impossibly long and he had a subtle way of making everything better.

As you shuffled your way into the elevator, smacking the button awkwardly with your elbow, you impatiently watched as you rose through the levels of your apartment building.

It felt like a century. But eventually you were met with the sweet ding of the elevator reaching the correct floor. You dragged yourself one last time out of the elevator and down the hall, however instead of the sound of sweet guitar cords you were met with silence.

You anxiously creep down the hallway. When Hobie comes over he always plays his guitar loud enough for the whole floor to hear. As annoying as it was to your neighbors you couldn’t find it in you to ask him to stop, the sweet melody melting the stress right off your bones.

You somehow manage to mangle your key out of your pocket without putting anything down, and as soon as you’re inside you’re dropping your groceries without a care in the world and pulling out your phone.

As you unlock it your worst fear is confirmed, it was Hobie texting you alright. Him not playing his guitar almost certainly meant something was horribly wrong. To make matters worst Hobie had said he had a “surprise” for you. That made the anxiety in your stomach twist even harder, the idea of one of Hobie’s many enemies capturing him, or using you to get to him sparking to life in your mind.

You leave the door to your apartment open a crack, just incase you need to run, and creep down the hallway. The door to your bedroom is open just a crack, and light is spilling out of your room, causing you to hold your breath as you creep closer.

You perch on your toes, hoping to decrease the chance of someone hearing you as you near the door, hands posed at your side, ready to fight for your life or run as fast as your legs could carry you at a moments notice.

You lean on the door frame and push the door open another few inches using the side of your foot, holding your breath as the hinges let out a loud squeak.

When you don’t hear any immediate threats coming from inside the room you carefully shift your weight forward, gripping the door frame like it would keep you from harm.

You feel your heart leap with relief as you see not one of Hobie’s enemies, but Hobie himself. He’s sitting in your desk chair, facing the closed window. He has his guitar in his hands, but that is not what stands out to you. Instead what stands out is the pair of headphones on his head, forcing his wicks out of the way in a messy way that shows he has not taken much care when placing them on his head in the first place.

You scrunch your nose in delight at the comical sight and decide that some teasing is in order, after the near heart attack he gave you.

You creep forward, your movements reminding you of a cat as a Cheshire grin grows on your face. You still completely when you’re in pouncing distance and you see Hobie’s finger still on his guitar strings. A small cue, but one that indicated you’re plan would be foiled if you didn’t attack right… Now!

You pounce forward, you barely feel your nails scrap the thread of Hobie’s shirt before a firm force is pressing on your stomach, pushing you up and over yourself.

You can barely breath, a second and an eternity pass as you crash through the air.

You don’t think you’ve ever hit anything as hard as you just did.

The top of your head and one of your shoulders feel the crunch of the impact first, but it does nothing to slow your movements as your thighs crumple downwards you, and then past you still.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that you’re falling.

Not that you had a long time to realize.

You didn’t realize that you had the instinct to face the ground. Was that something that was impeded in every human? Or were you simply privy to this trait as you saw your boyfriend leap through the air on a near daily basis?

Whatever the cause, your descent is stopped by the feeling of something pulling on your back. It reminds you of how a bully would pull on your backpack in middle school, only if the bully was a double-decker bus instead of a 12 year old.

Your internal debate on the nature of 12-year-old assholes is stopped as you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in through the cracked frame of a window.

You didn’t remember being pulled in the wrong way through the air. Traveling in reverse. But it would be impossible to forget Hobie’s face staring at you with as much concern as you’ve ever seen on it, eyes wide and almost glassy.

You can feel the tightness of his grip on your shoulders, and you’re sure his fingerprints will be imprinted in your skin. You can see his mouth moving quickly but you can’t hear his voice.

You look vaguely at the busted window frame, the wood is cracked and splintering in nearly a hundred places. You fear your landlords reaction when he sees that. How are you going to explain it?

You feel Hobie gently brushing your forehead with his thumb, pulling you from your thoughts. You look down and see small specks of glass, almost like glitter, dusting your lap. You raise a hand to your head and it comes back a deep vermilion, you swear it sparks the same as that damned glitter.

You feel Hobie’s hand on your cheek, turning your eyes towards him.

“You with me?” Hobie’s eyes are large and concerned, troubled brows peering at you.

You can barely find the strength to make eye contact, mind still far off, falling through the atmosphere, clouds catching in your throat.

You feel Hobie’s firm thumb on your cheek, consistent pressure pulling your mind back down to earth.

“Hey now. Focus on me.”

You blink a few times, and slowly feel your bones becoming solid once more. You can hear the traffic out the window, Hobie’s breathing, feel the warmth of blood on your head. You find your chest naturally matching the rhythm of Hobie’s as he breathes deeply, prompting you to copy him.

You go to reach up to your head once more, intent of seeing how bad your injury is, but Hobie grabs your wrist and pulls your hand back down.

He stares at you for an intense moment before he scoops you up bridal style, being so incredibly gentle as he stands.

“Let’s get you cleaned up Luv.” He sounds more quite and subdued then you have ever heard him. He walks oh so gently, slow and smooth so as not to bump or jostle you.

He sits you down on the counter of the bathroom gently, and pulls a first-aid kit out from under the sink. Typically it is you patching him up after patrol, looks like the tables have turned this time.

He works in utter silence. His first mission is staunching the wound on your head. It’s no where near the point of requiring stitches, it had simply bleed a lot as head wounds are prone to doing. He cleans the wound efficiently, and before you know it the wound is hidden by a thick, white bandage on your forehead.

The rest of your wounds are thankfully small, and don’t take much treatment. After a few wipes from a damp cloth and some Neosporin your wounds are treated. The only evidence that still prove the incident occurred recently is your blood stained clothing.

Hobie stays in the same spot he was in as he treated your wounds, hovering almost. His normally large presence has shrunk and if your didn’t know better you’d say he was trying to hide himself away from you.

You are staring at your hands, finding your fingers very interesting as the intense silence clouds the air, closing in around your throat you want to say something to break it, but your throat chokes in on itself as soon as you open it.

“I’m sorry.”

Hobie looks so small as he whispers those words to you. His hands are ghosts on your thighs, you can feel him, but you’ve never felt so separated from him. He eyes the tile of the bathroom and you can practically see him beating himself up, pulling away from you in a belligerent attempt to protect you.

You gently place a hand on his cheek and turn his face towards yours, forcing him to look at you. “I don’t blame you.”

“I know.”

“I still trust you.”

He glanced away from you briefly, and blinks aggressively like he’s fighting off tears. “Are you sure you should?”

Instead of a verbal response you take one of his hands from your thigh and guide it your head, setting the tips of his fingers right on the thick bandage that lays there. “This is proof that you care. That it was an accident and we both regret it. I trust you with my life.”

He suddenly lurches forward, pulling you into his body with a sob. You hold him gently as he cries into you, rubbing his back comfortingly, letting him feel his emotions and let them out.

You have no idea how long you sat there on your bathroom counter, blood stained clothing as you try to piece back together the broken pieces of your boyfriend without any words. But none were needed.

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saintmagx · 7 months

Text

I Knew you were Trouble❤️‍🔥

Part 3

Pairing: Jimmy Uso x reader

AN: if you would like tagged let me know 💖 Trinity is still with WWE. No specific timeline

⚠️ Warnings: 18+ , swearing, violence (this is the WWE after all) slight smut, infidelity, jealous Jimmy, bad writing, cringe story telling, the Usos (because they are a warning in themselves) ⚠️

JIMMY IS SO FINE LIKE 😭🤤 HELP!!!! Also is anyone else just loving how much fun he’s having on Smackdown right now????? YEEET 🤪 NO YEET 😐

The hustle and bustle of the gorilla can be a bit much for some people but not me, it strangely helps me get in the zone, ready to become my onscreen persona and throw yn out the window. Hunter confirmed the timeline for myself and trinity to win the tag team titles - five weeks away at Summerslam. Trin was still determined to get us an in ring team name and had enlisted Beverly the seamstress to start working on matching outfits - I love her but when she sets her mind to something - nothing and I mean nothing stands in her way.

Tonight I had a singles match against Liv Morgan, a simple one on one match with a clean win for me. Waiting for my cue the Uso’s come through the curtain after finishing their match. Josh greets me with his huge infectious smile and warm embrace, Jon on the other hand greets me with his signature fiery stare.

“Good luck out there yn. The crowd is on fire tonight!”

Josh walks away leaving me standing with Jon once more.

“We need to stop meeting like this.” Jon says with a smirk

“Ah yes, however it is hard when we work at the same place and are friends with the same people, the likelihood of us continually bumping into each other is pretty high.” Proud of my self for my reply I look at him smiling awaiting his response.

“Ya know, for a pretty girl you have a pretty smartass mouth. I sure hope you ain’t all talk and can back up that mouth babygirl.” He gives me a final once over and heads over to Josh who is standing chatting to his cousin Joe.

Focus yn, focus.

“Yn, you’ve missed your cue, get out there NOW.”

Shit. I don’t need distractions right now, I need to prove to Hunter and everyone backstage that i deserve to be here and I deserve these titles.

My match against Liv went to plan, we only had a 7 minute slot so it was quick and effective.

Trin

Hey so a few of us are heading to dinner before you guys have to be back on the road for the European tour. You in?

Of course girl, lemme get ready and I’ll meet you at the car 💗

Trin

I’ve already left the arena, but Jon and Josh are still there, tag along with them and I’ll see you at dinner 💕

Great. The more I try to keep away from Jon the more fate keeps throwing us together.

The car ride to the restaurant was pretty normal actually. Jon and Josh were in the front talking tactics from their match and goofing off. Me on the other hand was a simple bystander to this, it was nice. The bond the boys have is special, really warms the heart.

“Earth to yn!”

Josh snaps me out of my thoughts

“Sorry, um what were you saying?”

“Damn, not even paying attention to me huh.”

“Oh shush Josh, I’m tired.” I say laughing, I wouldn’t tell them that the real reason I was preoccupied was because I was in awe of them and their bond, those boys don’t need bigger heads.

With Josh fake falling out with me, I turn my attention to Jon.

“Can you tell me what he said?”

“Please?” I beg batting my eyelids, being a little flirtatious always gave me the upper hand, but with Jon it was dangerous territory I was entering.

Looking at me from the mirror he licks his lips.

“Sorry yn! Ain’t no way I ain’t siding with my bro.”

“That’s right uce. Day ones!”

Josh turns to me with a smug ass look on his face. Rolling my eyes I turn my attention to my phone ignoring them both.

Sighing I question “how am I going to manage myself with you two double teaming me.”

Jon’s eyes dart to the mirror with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Im sure you’ll be able to take us.” His eyes revert back to the road as we pull up to the restaurant.

Fluttering. Everywhere. That’s the only way I can describe it. There wasn’t a part in my body left that hadn’t been effected by Jon and his words. When I said double teaming me I hadn’t meant anything by it other than then ganging up on me but now, all I can think about is both their hands on me, Josh attacking my neck, Jon all over my breasts sucking and caressing them.

“You’ve been pretty quiet tonight, what’s up?” Trin enquires.

Truth is I’ve been distracted, Jon’s words in the car, watching Jon interact with Trin like a normal husband and wife, the feeling of jealousy and shame washing over me.

“I’m just tired honestly, plus I’ve still got so much to do before I leave for Europe tomorrow.”

“And moody, was all pissy with me in the car earlier, right Jon?”

“She sure was.”

I look at the twins and flip them off making the everyone at the table laugh lightening the mood. I hate how one man has effect me so much. And I know it’s only going to get worse once we kick of the European tour. No wife and me close by for 7 whole days - it has disaster written all over it.

Sorry it’s kinda short, felt like this was a good place to end! Anyhooo

Tagged: @southerngirl41 @missfamilyjeweles @jeyusos-girl @christinabae @jeyusosgirl @raya-hunter01 @harlem11680 @theogsamoanqueen @harmshake

#wwe fanfiction #wwe #fatu #jimmy uso fanfiction #jimmy uso smut #jimmy uso x reader #wwe x you #wwe x reader #wwe smut #jonathan fatu

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

Cortado | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: PG-15 (SFW)

Genre: strangers to lovers; meet-cute; tooth-rotting fluff; tiny bit of angst

Warnings: some cussing; brief mention of weed; self-consciousness/insecurity; it's just disgustingly cheesy and fluffy--sorry!🥴

Word count: 4,290 words

Summary: "There must be something about trains. You never know what to expect."

A/N: Here you go, @borahae-k! This is a couple of days late because I couldn't make up my mind about what kind of Joon I wanted to write based on his Spain insta-photo dump. Eventually, I happened to remember a show I saw that I thought would be the perfect scenario for this. Also, I just want to stunt-cast Namjoon in all of my fluffy fics! Thank you, Sim @itdoesntmatterwhy for looking this over and giving me notes (and just general screaming)! I got a little too into the ending that I almost didn't want to stop writing it 💕 The banner kind of sucks but hopefully, the story makes up for that!

“The train will be leaving in ten minutes…” the announcement echoed through the station.

Your eyes flick back and forth at your surroundings. Everyone was glued to their phones and devices. You hardly remember a time and place when people actually sat down and had a solid conversation without having to pull their smartphones every second to scroll around aimlessly.

Did anybody text them? Did they get a like on their latest reel?

If it weren’t an absolute necessity for your job, you’d have yeeted your own phone into a river. While you ponder on your cynical thoughts about technology, you are startled by your own annoying little device.

You look at the screen to see who it was. Recognizing the caller, you answer, “Hey, mom.”

She asks if your train was right on schedule.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. The ride should be a little under three hours. Can you still pick me up? …Great, thanks. I’ll give you a call when I’m close so you don’t have to wait too long. …Okay…see you, bye!”

You hang up and set your phone on the table in front of you. You were lucky enough to get to the station and secure seats tucked in the back row.

It was the end of the semester and the doctorate students from your program were given the option to take a short break before beginning their new projects.

You also took advantage of that option so you could finally move the rest of your things into your new office space. The university took care of moving your furniture and other personal belongings out of your flat and into your new location. However, you decided to bring some of your books. These editions were too precious for you to entrust to some stranger.

It wasn’t ideal to be lugging this many things around during a train ride since you didn’t drive. Thankfully, the seats across from you were vacant so you had enough room to set your textbooks down, along with a box of random knick-knacks from your former flat.

Still, you didn’t want to take over the whole space so you set them all against the window, leaving some room for anybody who would like to sit across from you.

You pick up the novel that you’ve been reading and open it to your dog-eared page, hoping to stave off any unwanted conversation on the train. You were a woman, traveling alone, and would be considered a perfect target.

Although, if you were being honest…you sometimes wished you’d experience a real-life meet-cute. Strangers on a train, having a random yet perfectly meaningful conversation–kind of like the novels that you were into.

God, you were so lonely.

It’s been a while since you’ve been with someone. Admittedly, you were jealous of your friend and colleague, Youjin, who somehow manages to balance her romantic life with her post-grad work. She was an inherent social butterfly and had a talent for spinning literature from the middle ages into the most romantic, sensual talking points during her dates.

Sometimes, you wonder what it was like to kiss someone again. The feel of their lips brushing against yours. The problem was, you really didn’t get out much and didn’t see the point of forced efforts of socializing. You were typically hostile to any ‘pickup’ attempt.

You glance across the aisle to find another woman who was animatedly chatting with a couple who sat in the row behind her. They were putting away their luggage when she strikes up a conversation with them after complimenting the woman’s outfit. She twirls her hair between her fingers while they trade travel stories.

She reminded you of Youjin. Her carefree laugh and confident demeanor were qualities that you thought most men found attractive–qualities that would make them naturally approach her. And you have noticed, some of the male passengers who pass her do not hesitate to give her a once-over.

When she was done with her conversation, she settles back into her seat. For a brief moment, she turned her head in your direction, saw you looking, and gave you a friendly smile. You smiled politely back at her before she turns her attention to her phone screen.

You were not Youjin or this woman. You were an awkward bookworm who had only been on a total of one or two dates since starting your graduate program.

You put your book down carelessly on the table and shifted in your seat. Straightening your posture, you turn to glance wistfully at the view from the window and sighed.

…Maybe you could do something to change that.

After thinking about it some more, you decided that you would step out of your comfort zone and dare to engage with the next man who talks to you. The thought of it sounded ridiculous but you figured, good things happened to people who took chances.

You move your books aside to make some room. You look up and glance at other passengers who were still making their way through the car before the train departs the station.

Next, you see a man smiling and excitedly greeting everyone he passes in the aisle.

You pick up your novel again and duck your head. Too chatty, you thought. Please don’t sit here, you internally plead as you avoid eye contact.

Much to your relief, the chatty guy finds an empty spot adjacent to your seat with another woman who, like him, was an eager conversationalist.

Not far behind him was a man who looked very questionable to you. He carried his bag with him–both arms wrapped tightly around it, hugging securely against his chest as if someone was about to steal it.

He had a skittish look in his eyes that scared you. Again, you silently hoped he would sit somewhere else–which thankfully, he did.

The overhead announcement informs you that the train is leaving in two minutes. Your shoulders sag and put your book down again, feeling defeated.

Maybe it just wasn’t the time.

Seconds later, another man huffs down the aisle, dragging his bag along.

He was tall and dressed in all black–a leather jacket over a black hoodie and black pants. Dark strands fell loosely above his eye line. He raked his hair back with his fingers whilst scanning the car for any open seats.

Your heart raced a little as you attempted to subtly get his attention, inviting him to sit across from you.

He pauses and makes eye contact when he reaches your position. You nudge your books aside, beckoning him to have a seat.

“It’s free,” you say meekly.

Just when you think that he was about to settle in, he glances across the aisle and takes the open seat next to the woman who reminded you of Youjin.

Your heart sinks to your stomach just as the train pulls away from the platform.

******

The train is approaching its third stop when you start getting another call.

“Hi, this is YN.” It was the moving company.

“Oh, hi! Thanks for calling me back.” You proceeded to clarify your new delivery address since you mistakenly entered the wrong unit number. The representative on the other line was understanding, updated their records, and assured you that your things would be delivered within two business days.

”Sounds good, thank you so much!” You signed off. After you hung up, your eyes wander across the aisle and notice that Youjin’s doppelgänger had gotten up from her seat to reclaim her bag from the overhead rack.

You smiled to yourself as it left the man in black all by his lonesome.

You silently watch her walk down the aisle, toward the exit. After she had gone, you turn your head and happen to lock eyes with him again.

You cracked a smile, which he returned this time. You couldn’t help but get all flustered. He was devastatingly cute. You wished that he would drop you a cheesy line or two.

A lightbulb goes off in your head–you could initiate the conversation.

Overcoming your anxiety, you open your mouth to say something to him but are startled when the skittish guy with the backpack gets up–completely agitated–then starts yelling at the person they’re sitting next to. He accuses them of trying to steal their stuff. Seconds after his outburst, he hurriedly walks further and took an empty seat several rows down from you.

You and the man in black look at each other and grimaced.

“Man, there must be something about trains. You never know what to expect,” he muses.

“I’m not gonna lie…that actually scared the shit out of me a little bit,” you remarked. You clutched your chest, your heart still beating fast at the strange man’s outburst.

His expression immediately changes to a look of concern. “Well, either way–I’m not the type to just sit around. I wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen to you,” the man in black replies.

Although you loved romantic novels, you thought that ‘blushing’ was such a clichéd, uninspired way to describe someone who was incredibly flustered. And yet here you were…blushing at this stranger’s remark.

You mouthed your thanks to him.

“Are you coming from one of the universities?” He asks.

“How’d you guess?”

He points his chin forward and gestures at your things. ”Uhm…that pile of academic-looking books next to you,” he chuckled.

“Oh,” you remark, now blushing in embarrassment. “Yeah,” you affirm. “Some of these are rare and I personally didn’t trust anyone else to transport them.”

He bobs his head in a nod at your explanation.

“So…what do you do for work?”

“I work in tech. I was just visiting our office down south.”

You nod, thinking about how else to keep this conversation going. “Are you on your way back home?”

“Not yet. I have a friend that I’m meeting up north. I don’t drive and…although I could have taken a plane up here, I figured, why not take the scenic route,” he shares.

“Ah,” your eyebrows lift in curiosity. He struck you as somebody from out of town so you thought you could recommend a local landmark or tourist spot. “There’s a great museum up in that area–I don’t know if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I know,” he responds. “It’s primarily why I’m going up there.”

“Oh–I…thought you said that your friend lived there?”

He chuckles. “Eh, we went to university together and he said I could crash at his place. I took it as a window of opportunity.”

You nodded. Suddenly, you felt the conversation slipping away. In a panic, you think of another random but perfectly neutral topic to bring up.

“So–”

“What are–”

You both crack up when you speak at the same time. “Uhm, why don’t you go ahead,” he urged.

“So–what does that mean, exactly? That you work ‘in tech’? I feel like, people say that all the time but I’ve never fully grasped it. I just kind of nod along.”

“Well, I work for a company that targets advertising for social media sites.”

“Oh! So you work in advertising?”

He shook his head gently. “No, I work in tech,” he corrects you. “I handle a bunch of accounts for companies and help them direct their resources properly so they don’t waste their money. We run algorithms based on…”

…And now he’s completely lost you. It’s the same thing that happens when someone tries to explain TikTok and how you can customize your ‘FYP’ settings.

“Nice,” is all you say as politely.

“What about you? What do you do for work?” He queries.

“I’m a scholar. But if you want to get specific about it, I’m a medievalist.”

He stares at you blankly. “Right,” he comments.

It was a reaction that you were used to whenever you engaged with someone outside of your field of study. “In my line of work, there’s not much technology going on there,” you say dryly.

“Maybe because processors were too slow back in those times?” He counters.

You snorted at his dorky joke. You couldn’t help but feel flutters in the pit of your belly.

“I’m sorry…this angle is killing me,” he says, gesturing at his neck. It occurred to you that you were sitting across the aisle from each other, facing the same direction that the train was moving, so he had been craning his neck while he talked to you.

“Would you mind if I sat there?” He points to the empty space in front of you.

You try not to squeal or look too eager. “Oh, of course,” you smiled politely.

“Thanks.” He gets up and takes the seat across from you. Now, you were sitting face-to-face.

“There. That’s better,” he grins. “Where were we?” He asks, hoping to pick up your earlier conversation.

You laugh nervously and fidget with your book. “Gosh, I can’t remember now.” You were frazzled–he didn’t just look good from a distance. He was even more handsome up close. You were in big trouble.

“Actually,” you piped up, snapping out of your haze. “Can I ask you a random question?”

“Sure,” he answers.

“When you were coming down the aisle earlier–what made you decide to sit next to her when you had the option of the two seats?” You were referring to the woman who had just gotten off the train.

“Ah, well,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just prefer to sit facing in the direction the train is going. I have a small issue with motion sickness,” he confesses shyly.

Your chest twinges at his admission. At the same time, you feel a small sense of relief knowing that he wasn’t put off by you for whatever reason.

“Now you’re facing the opposite way,” you point out to him.

“Right, but I’m facing you so my little quirk can take a back seat.” He shrugged, “It’s not a big deal, you know. It’s not like it dominates my life or anything crazy like that.”

“Would you like to switch seats?” You offer kindly.

“Yes, I would love that. Thank you,” he immediately responds in relief. You both rise from your seats, sidestepping and shuffling in the aisle to switch places. The train hits an uneven part of the track knocking you off balance so you grab onto the first thing you could to keep yourself upright.

Your breath hitches when you cling onto his bicep and elbow. He had removed his leather jacket now and didn’t have that extra layer on him. You felt slightly inappropriate at the invasive but purely accidental contact with his body.

“S-sorry,” you mumble as you let go of him and carefully settle into the opposite seat.

“That’s okay, it happens,” he says in consolation. “Where are you traveling to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, I’m moving to my new place…which also happens to be really close to my hometown so my mom is coming to pick me up from the station to stay with her for a couple of days. It’s just until I get my stuff delivered,” you rationalized.

“You say that with a hint of anxiety,” he points out. You appreciate how perceptive he seems to be so you take that as your cue to open up a bit more.

“I enjoyed living far from her these last few years. And the idea of coming back home for a couple of days…” you inhale through clenched teeth, “It’s a little daunting. But don’t get me wrong–” you immediately add, “I love her…it’s just that I can only take her in small doses these days.”

He smiled in commiseration.

“Plus, she’s also in this phase where she’s given up watching TV or having WiFi.”

“What?” He says, clearly taken aback.

You giggled. “I don’t know. I think that she’s going through some mid-life crisis.”

“Damn…no WiFi? Sheesh,” he shook his head, thinking that he didn’t want to be in that same predicament.

“Yeah. Although, in doing all that–she’s recently focused her energy on the arts and other simple things. She paints, writes poetry, listens to talk radio…tends to her plants.”

“Wow,” he says, sounding impressed.

“And she also rediscovered the benefits of weed so–”

“Ahah,” he chuckled. “I knew there was a catch!”

Your mom always waxed poetic about how she used to be such a free spirit when she was younger. Maybe you could pick up a few pointers from her.

“That’s funny… She kind of sounds like my brother–minus all of the creative, artsy, mid-life renaissance parts.”

You laugh at the little bit of personal information that he shares with you.

“He’s like Snoop Dogg, Willie Nelson, and all of Woody Harrelson’s performances rolled into one…giant joint.”

“He sounds very interesting,” you laughed.

“Yeah, maybe he and your mom can link up,” he jokes.

You were pleased with how long you’d kept this conversation going. And you had to commend your social battery for staying strong!

“So…tell me about medievalism,” he says.

You chuckled at that. “Like, in one sentence?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

You roll your eyes subtly. “Of course you’d want an elevator pitch since you work in advertising.”

He clicked his teeth. “Tech. I work in tech,” he emphasizes while keeping his tone light.

You blew out a breath and shifted in your seat. “I don’t think I can explain what medievalism is in one train ride let alone one sentence.”

He nods in acquiescence. “I get it.”

“You seem to be the type who likes things that are straightforward. Kind of like a…’what you see is what you get’ kind of thing, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You hummed. “Well…I like things that take a bit more time to define. Things that can’t be easily explained. Things with multiple layers that you have to peel back, only to discover that there are more layers to uncover…more questions and answers that have yet to be revealed.”

“Kind of like an onion?”

You lift a shoulder. “Yeah, if you want to simplify it. Just like an onion.”

“Right but couldn’t you just cut right through the center of it? Get right to the point?”

You laughed. “Sure…but where’s the fun in that?”

He pursed his lips, leaned back against the seat, and nodded softly at your point.

“It’s like…” You clicked your teeth, trying to find the right metaphor for it. “It’s like this neverending prologue, you know?” Your expression softens. “Because once you begin reading a story…you know that the end is coming.”

“I’m the opposite, I guess,” he counters. “I’d like to think that I’m more practical and tend to see things from a logical perspective. What is this thing called, show me how it works; how does it fit into the big picture? I don’t think like a scholar. I prefer to know things that I can apply to my daily life.”

“That’s fair,” you say to him, acknowledging his point of view.

Then, after gathering up more courage, you tell him, “I’m really glad that you came to sit here with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Better than the other guy who looked like a murderer,” you say in jest.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Who?” Then his face visibly relaxes when remembers who you were referring to. He cranes his neck to take a peek at the guy who sat a few rows down from you.

When he turns his attention back to you, his expression darkened. He rests his elbows on the table, fingers steepled, while he leaned closer to you.

Squaring his jaw, he says, “I’ve got news for you, YN…you’ve made a fatal mistake.”

You recoil slightly. “Huh?”

He continued, his tone growing threatening. “I’m the murderer here. I’m sorry to tell you that this is a thriller and not the romance novel that you pictured.”

Your brows knit in utter confusion. Your pulse raised while you contemplated throwing your heavier, hard-bound books at him to defend yourself.

After a few beats of silence and intense eye contact, you see the corner of his mouth twitch. It effectively eased the tension and you both break into laughter.

“Holy shit, you should have seen your face,” he says in between cackles.

“Oh my–do not ever do that!” You were also relieved to find an even bigger nerd than you were.

After catching your breath, you switch tact. “By the way, how do you know my name?”

“I kind of overheard your phone conversation earlier. Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I’m Namjoon.” You smile and shake his hand after he introduces himself.

“I didn’t realize that you were paying attention,” you say.

“Yeah…I just…I don’t know,” he scrambled for an answer but failed.

“And who said anything about romance?” You cock an eyebrow at him and he turns sheepish.

Now it was his turn to look all flustered.

******

You don’t know how it happened but it’s been nearly three hours since you and Namjoon were completely lost in conversation. You bounced from one subject to another, rarely missing a beat. It felt so easy to talk to him. Presumptuous as it was, you felt a connection there.

The intercom announces that your stop was approaching in a few minutes. Hearing that takes you by surprise—and you also realize that you got so carried away that you forgot to call your mom to give her a heads-up on your arrival.

Your face falters when you take your things, which he kindly offers to help gather. His expression turned sober as well, unsure how to move forward. His destination was still an hour away.

When this train ride began, all you hoped for was a random, real-life meet-cute. Then Namjoon came along and now you felt torn between wanting to live out some fantasy or pursuing this real-life thing…whatever this thing is.

“Well…uhm…i-it was really nice to meet you,” he stutters.

“Same,” you reply.

“You made the journey feel a lot shorter than usual.” Your cheeks warm at the compliment.

There you were, face-to-face–lips pursed, looking like you were both trying to gauge each other’s thoughts.

And you didn’t know why, but all that confidence you felt earlier seemed to be slipping from your grasp. It occurred to you once more that this was real life, not a romance novel.

In the end, you would walk off this train feeling grateful that a guy like him had even taken a remote interest in you.

“I guess, I should be going now,” you muttered.

“Oh…y-yeah,” he stutters.

You get up and he follows suit. “Would you think it inappropriate if I were to give you a hug?” He asks.

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

With your consent, he opens his arms wide and wraps you in them. You inhale deeply, taking his scent in, further torturing yourself.

You both pull away reluctantly. With a heavy heart, you approached the car doors to wait for the train to slow into a halt…until the loud screeching of the breaks knocks some sense into you.

Did you really want to go through the rest of your life living vicariously through Youjin’s outrageous escapades?

It was now or never, you thought. You had to take a chance!

“Namjoon?” You turn around abruptly to face him again.

“Yeah?” He responds nervously.

“I never do this but–would you like to get off the train with me? We could get some coffee and…keep talking?” The words spill out of you a little too quickly.

You wait an agonizing few seconds for his response.

Then, his face breaks into the most boyish, absolutely knock-your-socks-off grin. He smiled so broadly that even when he relaxed his mouth, the creases of his dimples were still evident on his cheeks.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He stands up and hurriedly grabs his bag overhead and walks towards you. Smiling, he takes a few books off your hands and you both off-board the train. As soon as you step onto the platform together, it began to drizzle so you both run for cover.

You both laugh while watching the rain start to pour from the skies. You glance sideways at him to find him grinning while staring at you.

Asking him for coffee was already a huge step out of your comfort zone. But something about Namjoon–the connection you shared and how easy and natural everything felt.

As cheesy as it was, you decide to take another huge leap.

Seizing the moment, you say, “You ever wonder what it’s like to kiss in the rain?”

Without a word, he sets his things down. Oh no…you’ve royally screwed it up now. He looked like he might run off in the other direction. Mortified, you wished you could go back in time and take it all back.

But the rom-com gods were watching and they liked what they saw. They decide to throw you a bone.

He surprises you and takes steps backward– under the pouring rain. He was soaked in seconds.

He held his hands out to you and says, “C’mon, now’s our chance!”

Giggling, you clumsily throw your things next to his, run into his arms, and kiss him.

It was…just as perfect as you imagined it would be. You melted into the kiss, swept away by the sheer lushness of it. Your heart pounded fast, synchronized with the raindrops that pelted you.

His lips moved against yours at a soft and leisurely pace. That wasn’t to say they weren’t eager…because you surely felt it.

When you finally come up for air, you both laugh. You stood there drenched, with your foreheads pressed against each other’s and his arms securely wrapped around your waist.

It was the perfect ending to your romantic novel. …Or was this just the beginning?

Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @itdoesntmatterwhy @internetjunkdrawer @purplewhalewrites @yu-justme @joonschocochip @deepseavibez @majamarantha @yoongukie-ff

#bts fan fiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon #btshoneyhive #thekpopuniverse #bangtantheatrenet #kim namjoon #namjoon fluff #bts namjoon #bts kim namjoon #bts fluff #cortado x knj

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skayafair · 25 days

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Part 41

I finally got to listen to it!

Arthur has a lot of spite left in him sounding so pissed off screaming out Kayne's name, huh

And yet, knowing how he's not shy of swearing, all he can call John is a helpless "villain". Aw.

Oh, YOU GO JOHN! I support all your rights but more importantly your wrongs. I have no idea why John acting on his worst gives me such a kick every time but I properly enjoy and wholeheartedly support it ^_^

Also I liked the echo on "I'm trapped!". Reminded me of previous intances of him eldritching out. Morrrre~

Oh, I like the turn it's taking. John's lack of freedom, of agency is getting broadened in its scale, John doesn't compare it to a human's (who he wanted to be) one - but to a god's (who he was). Seems like the DW rattled quite a few memories and John had to stop running away from his past (I mean considering the supposed atrocities he had to commit there he was basically forced into his old self so it was kind of inevitable). Who you were isn't who you are and doesn't have to be your future self either but it's still in there, it still matters and has its fair share of influence. He had to face this and I'm glad that he seemed to do it.

I don't want to imagine what it should feel like to be in John's metaphorical shoes though. He used to be a god - and then lost all the agency completely and kept failing to regain it, time after time. First he ended up in the DW despite his intentions with no chance to escape on his own accord, then was yeeted into Arthur and failed to take all control, then he had a chance during the ritual but that chance flew out the window, too. In the end of that path he had to lose even the little amount of freedom he had, giving himself back to the King. Frankly I think returning to the King could actually be a chance to take over - John managed to rival him in his will, after all, so who knows - maybe he could win, too. However, Kayne yanked him out and back into the DW, making him basically a slave yet again. Returning to Arthur should have felt heaveny at the very beginning, there even were moments of his own actions and achievements, like with cutting the tendrils. And yet this is still far from being free, being his own, even with the deal out of the picture. It should feel like a torture to have a living, independent mind and be unable to act on its will. No wonder he's a bit drunk on the opportunity to finally have some range of options.

Also now his attempt to kill Oscar that seemed very contradicting to his latter values and behaviour looks actually natural. Just out of the DW, with a reviewed perspective and confused about in what direction to head next, old instincts refreshed and most likely habitual again (if it was even possible - I mean what form did he have in the DW to even be able to do anything?) - no wonder in the moment of intense emotional turmoil he fell back to those old ways without much thinking. Still very bad but at least explainable now. Also it looks like John isn't sure he wants to be human now. Hmmm, I like this direction, too. The experience will stay anyway, he'll have the understanding, and that's important.

"I don’t know. But stop turning that frustration towards me." Wow, Arthur, A+ for the ability to articulate what exactly you want and are discontent with! Communication, yaaay!

I like how they arrived from defensive opposing positions to shedding the defences off and coming to an understanding, still managing to vent the emotions off in the process. Hey I want this level of the skill!

"Why wait? - Nothing. I thought I… it’s nothing. - You’re sure? - Yes." Uuuuugrh. High time to learn that's a bad way of addressing the suspicions, boys *sigh*

"How did it… feel? - It felt… powerful. - Hm." This whole conversaton of theirs, especially coupled with the overall situation, really reminds me of the very beginning of season two. Fresh of the portal in an unknown surroundings, under the rain, talking about John's bad choices and things Arthur postpones to talk about ("The deal with Kayne… - In a moment."), only the last time John didn't let him. I guess now he feels too rattled himself.

The owl. Ow. I'll get to my eldritch owls AU, I promise! (Also, Alexander?! In what way is it comfortable?.. It means "the defender", so well maybe, but still - ehhh?..)

"This world could be very different than what we expect." - ooohhh, will they meet dragons?! *__* Hardy, I know, but the possibility is still thrilling.

*John describes the surroundings* I've been to just one DnD session but the shift in the perspective cannot be undone. Is that how you guys have been seeing the whole setting all along???

"Look, we can’t afford to be at odds here, John. Not anymore." Oh. I like the place they are at dynamic-wise. By now they've long established they want to be friends - trying to be as best as they can. No one has an upper hand, unlike in previous seasons. Season 1 os obvious, season 2 - John still knew more about the world they found themselves in than Arthur and hid some things, the relationship was still very rocky. In s3 Arthur had an upper hand at the very least emotionally-wise. Season 4 - John's turn again. Now thought they've come to some pretty good communication and know each other well enough, there's trust (despite everyting), and both are about equally in the dark. There's the "John's crimes in the DW" bit still looming over them but both are aware of it, which helps to some degree.

Meaning - more or less (John still has little agency, although it's a bit better now) equal partnership. YAY. I'm excited.

"It is time to grow up, in every sense of the word." Ahhh. There it is. I have to say it's been bugging me the whole time but I couldn't enunciate what exactly and with what grounds. The thing is, I distaste the way a person lacking in one field is being constantly compared to a child overall. This infantilization happens not only in Malevolent. It's often brought into other stories - the most recent one I came across was Resident Alien TV series. Often enough the said field is the emotional and the social one. You know who else is often infantillized the same way with similar issues? Neurodivergent people - I think autistic ones more frequently but I didn't look into the statistics (if they exist), that's just what I've heard of the most. I know I've been referred to in a patronizing way both by some friends and relatives just because I don't get things obvious to them but unseen to me (and half of those things makes no fucking sense even when you learn about them). John is far from being a child, his lack of knowledge and understanding, of experience lays in very concrete fields.

So the constant comparison to a "parent-child" dynamic is irritating to me when it's simply a "more experienced in one or two ways person & a less experienced in said ways person". Yes those fields are very important. Still, there are things John knows of and Arthur doesn't, but I don't recall anyone comparing our dear detective to a child back in Dreamlands, for instance. John knew how dangerous it was out there and was more coutious, had some memories and knowledge about some things existing there and got frustrated with Arthur's attempts to befriend everything around more than once. From this point of view, Arthur behaved "childishly" and lacked crucial experience John sort of had (even though it was mostly forgotten), while social skills and emotional intelligence meant next to nothing (save for once instance).

So can we please cut this tendency of sustainably comparing adults to children because they aren't as well-versed in one or two fields as others.

"There was so much I couldn’t explain, because you weren’t able to know where I had come from. But now… with you knowing, perhaps…" Oh shit THEY CAN FINALLY TALK EVERYTHING OUT clearly yaaaaay! I forgot! Looking forward to this.

Also John's very quiet for the most of the episode, as if he's afraid to say another word, like moving across a mine field. Very uncertain in any way, like he doesn't trust himself.

Aaaaand Arthur confirms his title of a disney princess trying to befriend every creature he meets once again! Thanks for addressing this in canon! =D

I like how the podcast is consistent with the fact that John has sense of smell but it's not as developed as Arthur's.

Damn it's so wierd to hear John at loss of words, and so often, too.

"You really started to master your investigative ways, you know?" I like how John sounds so lost for the majotiry of the episode, but once there's an opportunity to fall into a familiar process of the investigation, his tone immediately changes to a lighter, more confident one. There's comfort in it. And Arthur noticed this and paused to give a friendly praise. It's important after all the forgetfulness in New York, and judging by John's reaction he appreciated this, too. It's something to hold on to, like "I still have it, we've got this, it can still be okay".

Wow Arthur's filling the bingo card starting right from the very 1st episode! Falling yet another ladder are we :D Now there's rather a bad injury, too, and they didn't even meet any monsters yet :DDD Arhtur has certainly stepped up his game!

"No… no, nothing. - Is it the wall?" Arthur is really acing the whole friendship thing the whole episode. He took notice of how unsure John is of everything now and made this extra effort to help, to support.

Yay the glass is back in the game! I llike that they decided to revise the bag contents.

"Kayne’s dagger. - Frustratingly useful." Yay the humor this apisode is certainly humoring! =D

Three black candles, in the 13th century, right. That screams "ritual", guuuuys where is your cautiousness!

I like how this episode took its time and didn't skip over some "mechanics" like the podcast usually does. There are more directions from John (THANKS), more pondering over what to do and which way (the torch, the dagger and tracing the way along the wall), the sense of smell, the way the cloak kept the water from soaking through - these little details are what does the trick to me. What gives more quality to the story and the way it's told.

The membrain, ew. Arthur's been holding exceprionally well, honeslty.

Ah, I finally found the word to how John sounds for the most of the episode. Defeated, even in situations when he would have had other emotions before. "The Undefeated" title considered, this is extra sad.

A recurring thing of the episode is that they find themselves in the darkness and John can't see. I think it adds considerably to his feeling of being powerless. It often sounds like he's giving up.

"No. But we’re close to the surface!" And someone said he's going to be properly done with all the pits like two seasons ago :< (I don't really remember when it was exactly so maybe less but the notion still stands.)

So. The hole in the wall was a mouth with teeth, wasn't it?

#malevolent podcast #malevolent spoilers #malevolent #john malevolent #arthur lester #john doe malevolent

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ahyuggg · 2 months

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Hello there! I just wanna say I love your art SO MUCH!!!

like how do you draw that good? how is it possible? what are your secrets? listen here, friend.

the game has already begun.

allow me to make you an offer,

one you can't refuse,

and with no other choice.

well then, have a wonderful day! love you! buh bye!

(eats all your art then yeets self out of the window)

Thank you so much!! 🥹💖 the secret is drawing your faves over and over hehe <3

BANGING POTS AND PANS AVENTURINE QUOTEE

#shpeaking #<3 #:D #bone apple teeth

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moiraineswife · 8 months

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The Lies Our Broken Selves Tell Our Better Halves - A Siuaraine Fic

Title: The Lies Our Broken Selves Tell Our Better Halves

Warnings: Spoilers up to episode 3 of season 2. Safe for non-book readers. Trigger warnings: Mo's general mental state atm which is, as we know: Not Ideal. Mentions of rape/threatened rape in the context of forcing a bond.

Summary: Set/written after the first trio of episodes of season 2 to deal with Lan and Moiraine's dramatic bond-divorce via the power of Siuan Sanche, currently in possession of the only known braincell in Randland. AKA: Moiraine is making bad decisions, spiralling out of control, and smashing every 'self-destruct' button she comes across and she very badly needs Siuan to slam on the brakes before she yeets herself off a cliff. AKA: Moiraine needs a 'come to Jesus' talk so badly and who better to give it to her than the wizard pope/her wife?

Teaser:

'“Then Moiraine crumpled before her eyes. Her shoulders slumped, her mask fell away, revealing the agony and the empty exhaustion that lingered beneath. She covered her face with a shaking hand and moved blindly towards the bed, sinking down onto it as though she no longer had the strength left in her body to remain standing.

Siuan’s heart clenched painfully and the love in it for this woman caused a pang of regret to pulse through her. But she steeled herself and refused to give Moiraine an easy way out of this. It would be painful, but she needed it. Light but she needed it.'

Link: AO3 or Read Below:

“Where’s Lan?”

This simple, casual question instantly changed the atmosphere in the room the way a storm changed the feeling of the wind on the sea and instinctively made Siuan shiver.

Moiraine turned away, putting her back to Siuan, making a casual show of looking out of the window, the gesture effortlessly woven into the absent circles she was walking around the room anyway. But Siuan knew her too well for her to get away with that shit, and a flicker of anxiety immediately tightened in her stomach. She was far too calm for him to be ill or grievously injured, and if he was dead Siuan doubted she would even be upright, let alone coherent, but–

“At the Tower, I expect,” Moiraine replied lightly, absently tracing the delicate petals of a rose in the vase on the window ledge.

“At the Tower?” Siuan repeated, bewildered, “Why in the name of the Light is he there?”

“I sent him there,” Moiraine said, moving away from the window to continue her lazy, seemingly mindless circle around the room. "He should have arrived by now. No doubt he's enjoying reuniting with Nynaeve. Likely as we speak,” with the suggestion of a little smirk on her lips and a faint laugh. It was as flat and empty as her eyes, which remained cold and distant and sad throughout her little performance.

Enjoying reuniting with– Siuan opened her mouth to demand an answer to just such a question, but no. That was deliberate misdirection. Moiraine’s too casual air, that forced smile. She wanted her to focus on something, anything, other than what she should be focusing on. And that was an answer to the question of: what in the name of all that was bright had happened at Verin’s quaint little cottage? Clearly it’d grown more interesting since Siuan had last visited.

“What do you mean you ‘sent’ him?” Siuan asked, very quietly, and very intently, so Moiraine could not avoid the question unless she very obviously side-stepped it, thereby revealing it as a sore point.

Instead of further attempts at deflection, Moiraine returned with that false little smile that Siuan loathed. The one that held no humour at all and that she only used when she was trying to make light of a situation that could not have been darker if it was taking place within the Dark One’s own arsehole.

“I’m not really sure what’s causing you confusion,” Moiraine said with that mildly patronising inflection in her voice. “I sent him, that is to say I arranged for him to go from one place and to arrive in another of my choosing.”

Siuan might have throttled her, but she needed her hands to massage her temples to try and stave off the headache she felt coming on. Light and she’d thought this would be a simple question. She had forgotten that, when talking to Moiraine bloody Sedai, there was no such thing as ‘simple’.

Moiriane, the Light blind her, had the gall to add blithely, “couriers do that sort of thing, you know. I was sure you’d be familiar with the concept.”

Siuan snapped her eyes up to meet Moiraine’s as she cut in sharply, with no trace of amusement or indulgence of the little farce she’d just been forced to witness, “your Warder is not a package.”

The coldness in her voice brought Moiraine up short. Her false little smile faded as her expression hardened. Then she set her jaw in that way she’d picked up from Lan years ago, without either of them realising it and stared icily down at Siuan. As if that was going to put her off.

“That man cannot just be ‘sent’ anywhere,” Siuan continued, utterly unphased by Moiraine’s glare, “anymore than you can send a hurricane to ‘a place of your choosing’,” she repeated sardonically, each word snapping out harsher and faster than the last, until she was practically spitting the last ones. “He has been more devoted to you than a sailor who hasn’t seen a tavern in a year is devoted to his first mug of ale." Her eyes bored into Moiraine’s, and she met the stare defiant and unflinching as ever, so Siuan pressed harder, "I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d died and his corpse just got right back up and refused to stop following your fool self around," she said bluntly.

Then she paused for a moment, letting the implications of that sink in properly, watching the subtle nuances of Moiraine’s expression shift. It was like reading the currents of an ocean, something anyone unfamiliar would miss entirely, but were as obvious as words on parchment to those that knew. Siuan caught the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth, the flickering blink, there for half a heartbeat then gone, the slight tightening of the skin around her eyes, and felt as wary as she would spotting a cleverly hidden riptide beneath the waves.

“What happened, Moiraine?” she asked quietly, in the same stone voice, unbroken and unweathered by time or tide, every inch the one she used when she made a demand as the Amyrlin Seat. One that would be obeyed.

With a swirl of deep blue Cairhien skirts, Moiraine turned on her like a summer storm. Siuan held her ground, unmoved, even at the sight of the flare of anger that flashed in her partner's eyes. For a long, charged beat of tension they stared at each other, gazes locked, jaws clenched, heels dug in, both ready to go ‘til the last breath if needed.

Then Moiraine crumpled before her eyes. Her shoulders slumped, her mask fell away, revealing the agony and the empty exhaustion that lingered beneath. She covered her face with a shaking hand and moved blindly towards the bed, sinking down onto it as though she no longer had the strength left in her body to remain standing.

Instead, Siuan crossed the room and knelt down on the floor at her side, staying close, while still giving her the space she needed. Reaching out and gently twining their fingers, stopping Moiraine from agitating the already red and ragged skin around her nails that she’d been worrying at in her agitation. Siuan waited, patient, thumb stroking over the back of her hand, giving Moiraine time to gather her thoughts.

Finally, without warning, like a horse suddenly bolting for no flaming reason at all, as they did, Moiraine launched abruptly into speech.

“I tried for months to make him leave me,” she began, with an obvious frustration in her voice, punctuated by her little huff, “to make him see reason.” She sighed heavily, shaking her head and looking exasperated and hopeless at once. “Nothing I did worked,” she muttered impatiently, “no matter what I said, or what I did, aloof, or indifferent, or even cruel I was to him: it never made any difference. He can be damned stubborn when he wants to be,” she grimaced.

Siuan decided it was not wise to interrupt Moiraine now she’d finally started talking, and clearly had a lot to get off her chest, to point out the frankly hysterical level of irony and lack of self-awareness in her calling any other person in any turning of the Wheel ‘damned stubborn’, but she had to bite her tongue to manage it.

“The more I tried to push him away the more insistent he seemed to become on staying,” she frowned, as though unable to even fathom a suggestion of why he’d acted that way.

Siuan bit her tongue harder still to save bursting out a deeply sarcastic suggestion of why it might be that the man who had been the other half of her bloody soul for decades, and who loved her more than all the stars loved their sky, became more reluctant to abandon her the more clearly unwell and irrational she acted.

Something shifted in Moiraine and Siuan snapped her focus sharply back to her. The atmosphere around her became suddenly very cold and still. As though a funeral shroud had slipped down behind her eyes, they darkened, and she had to swallow to clear her throat before she could continue. Siuan reached up and placed her other hand gently on Moiraine’s side, feeling a need to anchor her against whatever memory threatened to pull her away in its current.

“What?” Siuan prompted as gently as she could, but she still felt the bite to the word that snapped out before she could stop it as concern flared in the pit of her stomach.

“That night, after I found out about the breaking of Lanfear's seal," she clarified quickly, clearly struggling to wrangle her thoughts into some semblance of order, "I left to set out for Cairhien and I–" she paused, mouth tightening and Siuan frowned, sensing her change her mind about what she'd been about to say. Before she could comment, Moiraine blurted out abruptly, "we were attacked by three Fades.”

Siuan swore she felt her soul attempt to leave her body for a moment at the horror of those words, but she wrestled it back down like a troublesome line. Though she knew that, clearly, they had both survived the ordeal, she couldn’t help herself gripping Moiraine’s hand with the fear that had gripped her.

“It was my fault.” Moiraine whispered unsteadily, that familiar shadow of self-loathing turning her sea blue eyes to chips of black ice, “entirely my fault.”

The hand Siuan was not holding curled into a too-tight fist she knew would make the nails bite painfully into her palm.

Mouth trembling, Moiraine went on with difficulty, “ “Lan was fighting, protecting me, but there were too many. It was too much,” she wiped away the tears that threatened in her eyes with a careless, impatient hand. “I was injured, just lying there on the ground like a discarded doll–” she choked on the word as disgust and frustration mingled and silenced her momentarily. “Pointless,” she spat out, words returning, along with her anger at herself. “I was useless, Siuan,” she breathed, shaking her head, “I was so useless. Like a frightened child in the middle of a warzone,” she shook her head again. Her voice was shaking so badly now that Siuan had to concentrate to make out her words. “They were going to kill him and I did nothing to save him, to help him, I– I couldn’t–”

She was crying now, tears streaming from her eyes, her anguish ignoring the hand she used to try and brush them away. Siuan squeezed her hand as her heart tightened in sympathy with her. Moiraine tried to speak several times, her efforts largely incoherent, though Siuan thought she heard the words ‘I tried to channel’, but in the end Moiraine gave up. Swallowing hard she finally just shook her head to indicate that the power had not come when she had needed it.

“I failed him,” she choked out bluntly, “utterly,” she added, ignoring Siuan shaking her head and opening her mouth to chastise her for that. She was still speaking, firm and matter-of-fact now, “I knew then that I had to get him away from me,” she whispered firmly, a new resolve giving her the strength to continue, though it shattered something within Siuan to hear her phrase it like that, as if she were a blight, infectious, corrupting, “whatever it took, I could no longer stand to keep him at my side, shackled to my danger, and my weakness.”

Siuan was quiet for a long moment, letting those words fade from ringing declarations of pain, to fading echoes, until they were mere memories of the agony they once held. Abruptly, Moiraine got to her feet, and moved away. Siuan made no move to stop her. She stayed quiet, watching Moiraine tremble herself to stillness again, the agitation slowly working its way out of her body as she hugged herself, pacing, before finally coming to a halt at the window again. One hand resting on the sil, she stared out of it with a posture and smoothness to her face that said she’d done this many times before, and took several slow, deep breaths, gradually regaining control. Her shoulders hunched slightly and her eyes seemed distant and exhausted again, as though this brief flicker of true emotion had drained her of what little strength she’d managed to cling to.

Finally, when she felt Moiraine was ready to hear it, Siuan broke the silence.

“Do you remember all those years ago,” she intoned softly, “when we agreed that you would search the world for the Dragon, and I would remain at the Tower to maintain our informant networks, and try and politic the bickering Ajahs into something that vaguely resembled a useful faction against the Dark One for when the time came?”

Moiraine nodded, looking too exhausted to speak, but she turned her head over a shoulder, watching, waiting for more.

“I told you that you needed a Warder,” Siuan went on calmly.

Moiraine nodded tiredly again, but with a slightly more impatient air, as though she felt an ‘I told you so’ twenty years after the fact was a little pointless. Siuan agreed, which was why that wasn’t at all what she was headed towards.

Unruffled, Siuan reminded, “you didn’t want one,” and heard a barely perceptible little sigh in response. “You told me that you didn’t want a Warder, didn’t want someone in your head, able to feel all of your fears, and your flaws, and your insecurities,” she went on doggedly, apparently oblivious to the disparaging little frown pinching Moiraine’s face. “You thought it would be invasive and unbearable, and that it wasn’t worth all that. But I insisted.”

‘Insisted’ was actually a very polite way of describing what she’d done. If memory served the conversation had been a lot closer to beating her over the head with a broom and demanding it than anything as polite or civilised as ‘insistence’. Moiraine looked too worn out to point this out, however. Siuan pushed through the worry she felt coiling in her stomach, determined to see this point through.

“So we observed, and we gathered information, and we made notes, and conducted thorough investigations into all of the Warders currently in training at the Tower to find someone who was suitable and competent,” she said, remembering their girlish excitement, their first spy mission undertaken together as budding Blues, “and, more to the point, someone that you might actually manage to stand without driving one or both of you to murder or suicide within a week,” she added wryly, a fondness now tugging at her heartstrings at the memory.

The corners of Moiraine’s mouth even dared to lift into something like a true smile, warm and real, her eyes softening, meeting Siuan’s gaze with such love at the recollection. Without seeming to consciously make a choice to do so, she crossed the room back towards Siuan and reached down twining their fingers together.

Siuan burst the romantic bubble blossoming between with customary brutality before Moiraine became concerned that such uncharacteristic behaviour meant her wife had been replaced by a Forsaken.

“Then you thoughtlessly toppled weeks of our hard work into a fire pit on your way out on that hairbrained scheme you had in mind when you left without so much as a ‘by your leave’,” Siuan grumbled, not missing the way Moiraine rolled her eyes. Undeterred, Siuan forged resolutely ahead. “One week later you waltzed back to the Tower with a man neither of us had ever met before in our lives and announced that you’d bloody gone and taken him as your Warder!” she concluded.

Siuan made sure that her words appropriately conveyed how distinctly incredulous, not to mean miffed, she’d felt at little Lady ‘no Warder is good enough for me’ Damodred pulling a stunt like that after rejecting every one of her carefully selected candidates.

Siuan shook her head in mock-disbelief, but couldn’t stop the smile that was starting to blossom on her lips, “I thought you were insane,” she said bluntly. “Couldn’t even have told me his favourite colour if I’d held a knife to your neck,” she snorted with derision, “but you’d gone and bonded the great stoic stone lump, eyes colder than a dead shark’s and all,” she muttered, fully smirking now.

In spite of the lightness of her tone, and the fact that Moiraine was well aware Siuan loved Lan in his own right after all these years, she did not miss the slight tension that flared for a moment at the insult to him, affectionate or otherwise.

Stroking her thumb soothingly over the back of Moiraine’s hand to stop her spikes making an appearance, Siuan continued, “I was wrong,” she said softly, “and I’ve never been as happy to be so, either,” she added for good measure. Moiraine looked down, as she looked up, their eyes meeting. A faint glint of tears reflected in Moiraine’s again as Siuan murmured, “that man is the best thing that’s happened to you since, well, since I did,” she teased, and was rewarded by a feeble, wobbly little attempt at a smile from Moiraine for her efforts. “And he is, without a doubt, the only reason you didn’t starve to death two months in because you forgot to eat for three weeks straight,” she added mildly.

Moiraine’s weak little smile had the audacity to shift at once into a much stronger little scowl, as though Siuan had claimed something utterly unreasonable or false when they both knew it was true.

“The day I met him, he didn’t know you from the next haughty little Aes Sedai,” Siuan continued, remembering this more clearly than what she’d eaten for breakfast that very morning, “but I knew that he would follow you wherever you led. I knew,” she insisted firmly, “that every step you took, he would be right there at your side, taking each one as you did.” A single tear slid down Moiraine’s cheek at those words, and she gave a tiny nod of affirmation. “I was right,” Siuan agreed, nodding herself, “that’s what he’s done every day for the last twenty years, Moiraine,” she reminded her pointedly, as though she had forgotten that she had lived them, or, perhaps, as though she had simply forgotten that she’d ever lived at all.

“Exactly,” Moiraine murmured and for a brief moment, if she hadn’t known her better, Siuan might have entertained the idea that the stubborn pain in her arse might have seen reason. Unfortunately, she knew her very well, and sensed this was too easy long before Moiraine proved it to her by insisting in a hollow, self-loathing little voice that didn’t suit her, “he has wasted enough of his life on me already.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way,” Siuan argued back, preparing herself for a long, agonising night of attempting to beat some sense into this woman.

Carefully worded logic rarely worked on her when she was like this. Typically she needed a good solid reality check with the approximate subtlety of a brick to the face. This sort of clobbering generally fell to Siuan since her Warder, for all his admirable qualities, was far too gentle with Moiraine for her own good sometimes.

“You can’t just ask someone like Lan, someone who lives and breathes for one single thing, one single goal, one single purpose,” she said, laying a steady emphasis on that final word, not missing the tightening around Moiraine’s eyes that said she knew very well what she was getting at, "to give all of that up and abandon you. He needs you, Moiraine,” she murmured quietly, “as surely as the stars need the sky.”

"He does not,” Moiraine half-growled and half- groaned back. She drew her hands from Siuan’s and took a few steps away from her, gazing unseeingly out of her window again at the night sky and the stars it held beyond. “He has never needed me,” she muttered, arms wrapping around herself, “except perhaps in needing me to stay away from him,” she added darkly.

"He would be dead without you,” Siuan countered bluntly. “If he'd never met you, and you'd never convinced him to trust you and become your Warder he would have died twenty years ago.”

She saw the flash of pain in Moiraine’s eyes at whatever memory of Lan, broken and hopeless as he’d been, and knew she felt the truth of her words. So she kept going, the moment before a catch broke the surface of the water at last was no point to slacken your grip on the line.

“Without you there would be no Lan,” she stated, clear and precise, with all the conviction of a simple truth. “Even if, by some miracle, he survived that suicide mission he set out on, he wouldn’t be the man he is today without you.” She gave that a moment, a brief handful of heartbeats, for Moiraine to come to terms with, then pressed on relentlessly. “And I know you love and trust and respect the man that he’s become at your side more than almost anyone in this world,” she all but growled, “And you know that he has more earned the right to choose to stay with you until the end."

"Enough, Siuan,” Moiraine snapped finally, rubbing the spot between her eyes that marked where the sharpest pain of the migraines that had plagued her since they were novices tended to gather when she was stressed. “I have listened to him argue with me about this every day for the last five months,” she muttered wearily, “I am not going to endure the same from you,” she said with an irritated little jerk of her head, obvious frustration in her.

Well if she was finally frustrating her that meant at least they were starting to get somewhere.

"You listened, did you?” Siuan retorted sceptically, eyebrows raised. “Did you actually listen to him and what he said to you?" she demanded knowingly, “or did you just pretend to hear him the way you do when you know someone is making a reasonable point that you don’t want to acknowledge?” she pressed relentlessly.

Moiraine turned and managed a scowl that looked positively like her old self as she said coldly, "I know what you're doing and it won't work. My mind is made up,” she bit out firmly, seeing Siuan open her mouth to reply.

Then she turned away, her eyes again on the window, and the world beyond, as though she could see through the buildings, and the trees, and the hills as if they too were glass, to the man that she had not been parted from this way in twenty years.

Lowering her head she added in an undertone, “even if you did it's too late now. It is done. It is broken. That is the end,” she concluded very softly, swallowing hard and looking down at her fingers, away from the window, cutting off the invisible thread Siuan had imagined joining her and Lan for a moment.

Siuan paused, pretending to actually deliberate and consider this idea, then she said evenly, “it could still be undone.” Moiraine took a very deep, very slow breath, lifting her chin very slightly towards the ceiling, as though silently begging the Light for patience. “It could be fixed, if you tried,” Siuan said, completely ignoring Moiraine’s reaction.

"Not everything that is broken can be fixed, Siuan," Moiraine replied, a new darkness gathering at the edges of her words, like night steadily swallowing the evening sun and all its warmth.

"No,” Siuan agreed, and she could not maintain her previous toneless, matter-of-fact even cadence now, not when she knew that Moiraine did not only mean to imply her fractured relationship with Lan, but also her fractured self. “Not perfectly or completely,” Siuan went on, made herself go on, made herself say those words, with the full force of the belief that lived behind them. “Maybe it can never be exactly as it once was. But it can always be better than it is now,” she said, and she felt her father’s voice echo in an unheard harmony alongside her own, his lessons, his wisdom, still a core of who she was and, more importantly, who she strived each day to be.

There's no such thing as perfection, so there's no excuse to ever stop trying to improve.

Her head and her heart were still full of his sayings. If they’d been rich, she’d often thought, he could have become one of the greatest philosophers of their age, quoted from Tear to the Two Rivers.

Usually Moiraine knew the feel and form of Berden’s little pearls of wisdom. Usually she would tease her and tell her that her accent became stronger, more Tairen, when she said them, as though her father truly was sharing his words with his daughter’s voice. Usually they coaxed a smile from her, and a pause to the ceaseless spinning of her mind. Usually they connected to her in the same place that she connected to Siuan, a tether to a welcome shore that promised a safe harbour.

This time nothing. No response. No acknowledgement at all. To the point that Siuan was sure she had barely even heard her speak, let alone what she’d said. She opened her mouth to say something more but Moiraine beat her to the catch,

“Not this,” she whispered, and she was staring at the window again, but this time she clearly didn’t see it, or anything at all for that matter, save whatever memory had gotten its hands about her throat and started to crush the breath from her. “Not after what I–” she began in a tremulous whisper.

Abruptly she broke off, as though remembering herself. Siuan watched as she reflexively corrected her posture, straightening her spine, standing tall and confident, the very image of a perfect Cairhien noblewoman. But though her face, as she turned back in Siuan’s direction, was perfectly calm and smooth, she would not meet her eyes.

Something went very cold and dark inside Siuan as she realised that she had made a damned rookie blunder and allowed Moiraine to distract her from the one key detail she clearly hadn’t wanted to discuss.

“How did you get him to agree to go to the Tower without you?” Siuan asked slowly, fear rising in her throat and choking the word near to silence. “You never answered me.”

She’d thought Moiraine had given Lan some false instruction asking him to fetch something for her that she could not, due to her exile. But no, Lan knew her far too well to fall for something like that. Especially after what Moiraine had done to him the night before she’d gone to the Eye of the World. And from the look in her eyes,, the hunch in her shoulders that all to clearly gave away her bone-deep guilt–

“Moiraine–” she began, unable to keep the warning from her voice.

Quiet engulfed them for a long, heavy moment, that seemed to press down with a greater weight than the world they’d carried between them all these years.

“I wrote to Alanna and asked her to meet me at the crossroads so that she might escort Lan to the Tower while I carried on alone to Cairhien” Moiraine answered at last, trying to speak stoutly and confidently, but Siuan could hear the tremors of the fracture lines she was close to breaking along, no matter how well she tried to hide them.

Narrowing her eyes, Siuan bit out, the words sharpened by the tension that was winding ever tighter in her, “it’s a good thing she has Ivhon and Maksim. I imagine that would make it much easier to bind and gag Lan and throw him over the back of his horse, which is the only bloody way I see him going to the Tower with Alanna while you ended up here.”

It could not have been clearer that Moiraine could not meet her eyes. She stared down at her clenched fingers, the skin of which was red raw from how she had agitated it during their conversation. All at once, it was as though she could not even stand to be in her own body, to be herself at all. So great was the guilt and pain and shame that seemed to physically press upon her as Siuan watched, that Siuan thought she might collapse between it. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, as they darted wildly about the room seeking another anchor point, and for that single beat of time, Siuan felt as though she glimpsed Moiraine’s true self, trapped and smothered within the cage of her bones, huddled and broken, given up on trying to break free.

“What the fuck did you do, Moiraine?” Siuan whispered, terrified, genuinely terrified, for the first time in years.

“I told him–” Moiraine began, then broke off, as if gagged by her oath, though Siuan knew there was a far simpler, far more human barrier between her and the words she struggled to speak this time. “I told him that if he refused to go willingly–”

Again she stopped, this time needing to take down a gasp of air as her whole body shook. Even then she seemed to be struggling to breathe, as though something constricted her throat, each word needing to be forced out past an ever-tightening noose, and Siuan suddenly felt dread grip the very heart of her. All at once she did not want to cross this line. She did not want to know into what darkness this woman she loved had fallen.

“I told him that I would have Alanna take his bond by force if I had to,” she whispered in a strangled little voice.

Siuan recoiled. The movement was instinctive, and she couldn’t have stopped it if she’d wanted to. Nor was she sure that she did. Light– That was– Light. Forcing a bond with someone against their will was one of the most invasive and horrific things it was possible to do with their power. It was not only a violation of the body, but of the mind, the very soul itself. For Moiraine to have even threatened that– Threatened Lan with it–

“I thought that you loved him,” Siuan said, horror and disgust rising in her words as well as the back of her throat. “I thought that he was family to you,” she breathed, revulsion forcing her, for the first time that she could remember, to step away from this woman that she had spent most of her life waiting to run to. “How could you do that to him?”

“I didn’t!” Moiraine cried, stricken, a burst of emotion rising in her, stronger than anything else she’d been able to muster as she stared at Siuan with desperate urgency. “Of course I would never have allowed it to get that far, but–”

“You threatened him with it!” Siuan interrupted, a snap in her voice, words rising to a shout in her disbelief and her anger and her horror.

That she had done this in what Siuan assumed, what she begged the very Wheel itself, was in a wild moment of utter desperation was one thing. But to stand here now in the cold aftermath and defend the choice?

Siuan felt as though she were looking into the eyes of a stranger, a nameless, unknown creature wearing her face. Because this could not be her Moiraine. The Eye of the World had taken that woman she had loved for decades, that woman she would have ripped the world apart seam by seam to protect, and spat out something else, something that looked like Moiraine, sounded like her, but could not be her in truth.

Still in disbelief, bile burning the back of her throat she went on, hoarse with shock and ever mounting rage, making her voice waver, “the fact that you actually managed to get those words out past the First Oath to spit in his face?” Her lip curled and she spared no effort at all to hide her disgust as she growled, “I think that’s far enough.”

“Why don’t you understand?” Moiraine whispered, staring at Siuan as though she barely recognised her either. As though they were two strangers seeing each other for the first time. "I was so sure that you would,” she murmured, her eyes going unfocused as she looked inward, seeing something that Siuan could neither see nor even fathom. “I was so sure that you–”

Flinching back with a sudden twist of contempt at that very suggestion, anger rose in her. “How could you ever think I would understand something like this?” she demanded, furious, “let alone accept it!”

“Because you know me!” Moiraine shouted a little wildly, her voice rising and wavering out of her control, like a loose sail stolen by a strong gust rippling and writhing as the rage of the ocean claimed it. “You know me, Siuan,” Moiraine whispered, thumping her palm flat against her chest, just over her heart in a broken display of utter desperation, “you know me better than anyone.”

“I thought I did,” Siuan breathed, her face still hard and cold as her heart had become, petrified and crumbling in the face of this unprecedented darkness in the woman she adored. “Before tonight I never would have believed you capable of this. Not for all the light in this world.”

Moiraine looked utterly broken for a moment, her face falling into lines of clear agony, her eyes closing against it. For a moment Siuan was sure that reason and sanity had returned, and it had hit her just how awful what she’d been suggesting was.

“I swear to you,” she breathed softly, “I swear to you on my father’s name that I did this for the right reasons,” she all but begged, her eyes wide and shining with tears, “I didn’t do it to hurt him, Siuan–” she began.

But Siuan’s anger flared once more and she cut in, “then I’m sure it wouldn’t have,” she snapped with a furious spite twisting each word, “I’m sure he wouldn’t have felt any pain, or violation, or betrayal at all,” she spat, the words firing from her mouth like crashing hailstones, “not as long as you made sure you had him raped with good intentions–”

Moiraine flinched violently at that word as though it was a physical lash Siuan had branded her with. But Siuan couldn’t find any pity for her. She had blinded herself with willful ignorance and justified this to herself somehow, but Siuan would be burned to ashes before she let her ignore the harsh reality of what she had held over the head of a man who had trusted her enough to dedicate his life to hers for two decades.

“I would never allow Alanna, or anyone else, to hurt him like that,” Moiraine snarled, anger deepening her voice so that it almost seemed to echo up to her from the depths of the ocean itself. “If I could not channel I would put a blade through their heart before they even tried to do such a thing to him,” she went on, emotion burning so palpably from her now that for a moment Siuan felt as though she stood beside a raging sun, “And if I had no blade then I would tear them apart with my bare hands before they even thought of harming him.”

There she was. Yes. That was Moiraine, her Moiraine. Without question. There was no mistaking the blazing intensity in her eyes, the strength of will that seemed to rise from every taut muscle and sinew of her body like a heat haze as she set out her goal and swore every fibre of her soul to see it done, as no one Siuan had ever met could do.

But again, Siuan saw her in the slight tremble of her mouth, the brightness of her eyes, the frightened woman who lived beneath that raging force that at times felt as if she could halt the Wheel itself by virtue of the strength and stubbornness of her command alone. The woman you could almost forget was there, fragile and afraid as any other mortal creature made of flesh and blood and foolish, foolish love.

“But I will not apologise for trying to save a good man from an unjust fate,” Moiraine whispered, the near overwhelming fire of her earlier words suddenly ash, and though there was a crack to her voice there was no less conviction or intent because of that, as she now met and held Siuan’s gaze.

Even now, after she had been emotionally beaten and branded for her choice, she maintained that, if it could not be called good, it could also never be called wrong.

Siuan wanted to shake her. She wanted to shake her and ask how she could have endured what she had at the Eye, how she could have felt someone use their Power to strip away her own. How she could know as keenly as it was possible to know what it was to be left behind, vulnerable, and violated, and helpless– how she could feel that pain, and then threaten someone she loved with the same in the name of protecting them.

But she had spoken one truth, amidst the rest of this shadowspawned blight: Siuan did know her. She had known her, and loved her, since they’d been little more than children in the Tower together. So she had to believe, if she believed that there was any light left at all in this forsaken world, that Moiraine had meant well, and could still be made to see some bloody reason.

“Explain,” she murmured tautly, with every flaming bit of restraint that she was still just clinging to.

“There is no chance that either of us will live to see the world we hope to save,” Moiraine said with an honesty that was as casually brutal as it was familiar; and it was as familiar to both of them as cold beds and lonely hearts. “Not until the Wheel turns us out together again in another life. You know that,” she said very quietly, her eyes never leaving Siuan’s, never dropping, never even blinking as they confronted this truth, and this tragedy, of their life, and their love again. “We both made our peace with that years ago when we started all of this. We knew what the price would be if we were to take this path. And we both agreed to pay it."

Siuan nodded, but her brow creased in a slight frown as she said slowly, "Lan would give his life for this, for you, just as willingly, without even thinking about it."

"Of course he would!” Moiraine snapped, sounding almost insulted on her Warder’s behalf, as though Siuan had implied the opposite.

Slamming her palm down against her thigh, frustration rankling through her, she lifted the same hand to press against her head, as though trying to help it resist some unendurable pain. Then she looked up at Siuan, her expression softening, the lines of tension and stress smoothed away, so she appeared half a child again, innocent, and naive, still able to find the hope they had begun this all with years ago.

“But he doesn't have to,” she whispered, the words near a plea, to her, or the Wheel itself, Siuan didn’t know. But it was as honest and as raw a prayer as she had ever heard pass this woman’s lips. “He is not bound to that fate as we are. He would give his life for it, without hesitation, I know he would, I do not question that. But he does not have to die for this unless I drag him into the grave that has already been dug for me.”

Light but there was still good in her, Siuan thought with gentle despair, her heart aching with it. Perhaps too much.

“He can still have this life, a good life,” Moiraine insisted, the words apparently sounding reasonable and fair to her, when to Siuan they just sounded like the nonsensical plea of a loved one to save a fallen friend who’s heart had long since stopped beating, “a life that he deserves at last. That is all I wanted for him, and everything I have done has been for that. For him,” she implored.

Siuan believed her. Light but she believed her.

“You hurt him,” Siuan said quietly, still adamant that she would get an acknowledgement on this point, before they went any further. “No matter why you did it, or what you hoped to achieve, you still hurt him, Moiraine. More than anyone else ever could, and more than you ever should,” she added firmly, because she understood now, but that did not mean she accepted.

“I know,” Moiraine said, something darkening in her eyes. Shame, Siuan realised, shame for what she had done.

All at once she seemed to fade before her, the ghost of the woman that had once stood in her place. She moved as though in a daze and sank down onto the edge of her bed again, head in her hands. Cautiously, Siuan moved to her side once more and sat down next to her.

Her presence seemed to give Moiraine the strength she needed to speak. Raising her head, she said softly, “I knew I was hurting him every day that I spoke to him so callously. Or looked at him as though he were a stranger I did not trust. I could see that pain in him, as clearly as I see you standing here before me. And it destroyed me, Siuan. You have to know that. But– He is no longer caught up within the threads of my Pattern, so he need not be hanged by them as I will be,” she said, her eyes wide, the words caught somewhere between a statement and a question; wanting it to be true, but needing Siuan to make it so.

“Moiraine,” Siuan said, achingly tender, the way she would have wrapped her last breath around her name before she rammed the dagger of mercy between her ribs to spare her a fate worse than death.

Moiraine trembled to hear that, and all the gentle agony it promised.

“Nothing in our Oaths keeps us safe from lying to ourselves,” Siuan murmured, combing her fingers through Moiraine’s hair, smoothing it back from her face. “It’s time,” she said softly, “you can’t hide from yourself anymore, love. You know, you’ve always known, in your heart, that you can’t do this alone.”

Moiraine’s face crumpled at those words, and she buried it against Siuan’s chest as she turned her face against her shoulder. Siuan cradled her, comforting her from the pain that she herself was inflicting with each word she spoke. Yet she spoke them still, feeling the weight of irony in each one, but knowing they were needed.

“You and Lan are bound together with something far more powerful and lasting than any Warder bond,” Siuan told her, sharing a truth she had seen the moment she had met Lan, standing at Moiraine’s side, and feeling, for the first time since they’d heard the prophecy, and chosen their paths, that Moiraine might be safe on hers, with him beside her. “Your Patterns are intertwined, absolutely and inextricably, and always have been,” she murmured, achingly gentle. “Your fate is his; and his yours.”

Moiraine’s whole body shook with the weight of the breaths that heaved through her chest as she struggled to bear yet another burden Siuan laid upon her back.

“I told you that there would be no Lan without you,” Siuan said, still cradling Moiraine in close to her body, “but equally there is no you without Lan,” she murmured.

As she spoke she rubbed Moiraine’s back in broad, soothing circles, trying to convey without words that it was nearly over. A few more words, and Moiraine would have survived the harshest torture that any person could know. That of having the deepest fears that gave your soul its shadow to contrast its light laid bare before you with simple, merciless truth.

“You need him, Moiraine,” she said, then again, one last time, to be sure, “you need him.”

Moiraine’s shoulders slumped, and she laid her head completely in Siuan’s lap, then shocked her by actually saying, very quietly, “I know.”

A pause while she trembled, and wiped furiously at her eyes and mouth with the back of her hand, obviously trying to regain a grip on herself. For a moment, it seemed that she might succeed. Then she wavered, taking several breaths that palpably shuddered through her whole body as she tried to contain the heavy sobs that Siuan could almost feel weighing her down before she managed to get out, “I miss him. I miss him so much.”

The shock of that hit Siuan like a brick to the face. She had expected her to talk about the Pattern, about the future, about the impossibility of the task that had been demanded of them, of the cruelty of the world, and the indifference of the Wheel. She realised now that this had been the last bit of strain needed to snap the entire line, and that everything Moiraine had been holding in since Lan had left, likely since she’d started pushing him away at all, had finally become too much for even her to bear.

“Oh Moiraine–” Siuan breathed sadly.

“I look to my left to catch his eye and seek out his approval before I remember that he’s not there,” she said, the words flowing from her as thick and fast and uncontrollable as her tears. “I hear his voice each morning telling me that I need to eat something before I start my day,” she said, as Siuan stroked her hair and let her weep, “I find it strange when my plate doesn’t have a little more potato or an extra bit of bacon on it than it did a moment before, because he’s slipped me some of his without my noticing.” Siuan smiled at that, at how simple, and ridiculous, and utterly Lan such a gesture was, how it was always the smallest, stupidest things that said ‘I love you’ without ever needing to use the words. “I pour out two cups of tea without even thinking about it. When it all feels too much, and the weight of the world is crushing me, and I do not know what is right or if I can even trust myself to tie my own shoes, I wait for his reassurance, for his hand on my shoulder, or his steadfastness through the bond but– but I–”

Siuan sensed that there was more, so much more, a lifetime’s worth of tiny moments and instinctive acts that had become as thoughtless as breathing, not noticed until they were gone, and then their absence was an agony worse than dying. But there were no more words left to her to speak them. The mask she’d clutched to her face and hidden behind all these months was little more than ash snatched at by the wind. She was bare, and barren, with no more shields to crouch behind, and no more barriers to break her fall. All she could do now was feel, feel every ounce of grief and pain she’d been pushing aside and struggling to ignore for months.

Moiraine broke, utterly and completely, and Siuan held her as she did. She rocked her gently in her arms as she sobbed and screamed until her throat was raw. She stroked her hair as she gasped and heaved and struggled for each breath she sucked in past her grief. She rubbed her back as she convulsed and trembled until at last her exhausted body could give no more, and it lay still and silent in Siuan’s arms.

Afterwards, Siuan remained quiet. Like the first breath the world took after the passing of a great storm, this was not for her to do, this was not her silence to break, only to keep watch over, until the time came. She knew that it would. Some things were inevitable that way, and she had learned patience as a babe strapped to her father’s back on his little fishing boat, waiting for the tides to carry them home. She had kept that patience for twenty long years, spending each day waiting for Moiraine’s return. She had patience now for this.

Wiping her eyes with that frustrated little gesture, sniffing repeatedly, Moiraine pushed herself tiredly into a sitting position, still leaning against Siuan’s shoulder to help keep her upright.

“I must sound so foolish,” she muttered, voice dulled by fatigue and exertion. Catching Siuan’s expression out of the corner of her eye, she seemed to realise that had not been entirely clear, for she clarified, “crying over cups of tea and potatoes when the Forsaken are stirring and the Dark One’s shadow spreads further each day across the entire world which may be lost if we cannot save it,” she said, with a truly admirable amount of dignity maintained between her hiccups.

Siuan smiled fondly, smoothing out Moiraine’s hair, “a bit,” she admitted, though she made it clear from her tone that it was meant to tease. Kissing the top of Moiraine’s head she sighed out a long resigned breath and said, “I think you need your cups of tea and potatoes and… whatever else,” she said, struggling to remember the precise details of Moiraine’s long, only mostly coherent list. Fortunately this lapse made Moiraine snort with suppressed laughter, knowing her far too well to feel aggrieved, so Siuan continued, “and that’s okay,” she murmured, giving Moiraine a bracing little squeeze. “It’s the same reason I still practise my nets and lures by hand every day,” she said, seeing the soft, fond smile and distant bob of Moiraine’s head in acknowledgement of this, “we need something to keep us sane while everything else goes mad around us.”

Moiraine considered that and then she said very quietly, “So many times, Lan has been the only thing protecting me from death, ever snapping at my heels. But he has also been my net,” she said with a watery smile, catching Siuan’s eyes, “keeping me from the insanity always clawing at the edges of my mind.”

Siuan nodded as Moiraine’s mouth trembled with the burden of the realisation Siuan had just watched settle heavy upon her soul. She stroked her cheek, anchoring her, but did not interrupt or say the words for her. She needed this, needed to purge herself of this truth as surely as if it were trolloc poison.

“I was selfish,” Moiraine managed to whisper at last. Siuan closed her eyes, a tension she had carried since she had asked Moiraine where Lan was at last allowed to leave her. “I convinced myself that the pain I caused him was worth it, if it kept him safe but… nothing in our Oaths keeps us safe from lying to ourselves, does it?” she murmured, repeating the wisdom Siuan had given her earlier. She closed her eyes, her face a mask of pain, and Siuan felt such pride, and such love, swell within her as she found the strength to confront the person she had been, and hold her accountable for what she had done. “I sought to break him, to break the love, and the loyalty I did not feel I deserved because I knew that it would break me to lose him as well.” Silent tears escaped her, sliding down her cheeks as she whispered, “I was so selfish.”

“I know,” Siuan said, the harsh simplicity of that truth balanced by the soothing tone in which it was spoken.

“He must hate me,” she said, unable to entirely smother the small sob that choked from her as she spoke those words.

“Maybe he should, for what you did to him,” Siuan said, as softly and gently as she had spoken her last truth.

She saw the reflexive flash of shock and betrayal in Moiraine’s eyes, before she blinked it away, along with the tears that had shone there, and nodded heavily.

"But I’d still stake my life on the bet that he doesn’t,” Siuan continued very quietly. Whether that made him a fool or a hero, she didn’t know, and perhaps it wasn’t her place to decide either way. “You know that’s not him. He will forgive you. Even for this. As long as you give him a reason to."

Moiraine looked up at her for a long moment then, finally, blessedly, she nodded. She looked utterly exhausted as she did so, but she did so, and that was enough for now. Siuan kissed her head. There was still more to say, on this, as well as the other events of the last six months, but Moiraine clearly wasn’t up to hearing so much as the day’s catch right now, let alone anything like that. So Siuan scooped her up and drew her down onto the bed beside her, stroking her hair and wiping away her latest tears.

“Rest now,” she told her softly. Moiraine started to open her mouth to protest, but Siuan just pressed a finger to her lips, “I will stay and shield your dreams,” she said quietly. It was a risk, she knew, not to return to the Palace, but Leane would make her excuses if that became necessary. Siuan judged that the hour-long grilling she would get from her Keeper about where she’d been and why was worth it to allow Moiraine to get a chance to actually recover some of her strength. “You need to sleep,” she insisted, in a tone that warned there would be no arguing of that point.

“You know so well what I need,” Moiraine growled huffily, the words barely distinguishable through the blanket Siuan was already pulling around her.

“I do,” Siuan agreed, as though Moiraine had spoken the words as a mere statement of fact, and not an obviously petulant complaint.

More grumpy sounds issued at this, though none were coherent enough to be made sense of, and were thus very easy to ignore, as Siuan bundled Moiraine up in the densest, heaviest blankets she could find, then wrapped her arms around her and held her close. She was asleep almost before Siuan had finished weaving the shield around her mind to protect her from Lanfear’s influence, at last safe enough to allow the sleep she so desperately needed to claim her.

There was still a ways to go, she knew, the shore was only just visible as a faint line upon the distant horizon, and their little boat still had a vast ocean to cross to reach it. But if things had not yet been fixed, they had been improved. Tomorrow they would improve again, and the day after, and the day after, and the day after. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Until the sand of the shore turned to earth, then to stone, and they reached a place where the turbulent sea was little more than myth, and the oar they carried was mistaken for a staff.

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