#I'd trust him to protect me from the Large Man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ne0nic · 6 months

Text

Our Game

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Wriothesley x f!Reader ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 5.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Dom!Wriothesley, Thief!Reader, Mentions of Human Trafficking, Drugged Tea, Slight Bondage

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

The game is lively tonight and you expect to enjoy it in full.

With effortless grace, you move in and out of the shadows around the Court of Fontaine, becoming a phantom of the night. The deserted streets are a ripe playground, businesses closed, doors and windows locked, and the guards drowsy and inattentive. It's a realm of exhilarating opportunity, just waiting for you to claim.

Your destination is the side door of the antique jewelry shop, known as the last source of pride for an elderly proprietor. Your knowledge of every shop in the city is impeccable, following a mistake where you learned that it's unwise to steal from a Fatui-owned establishment; it's akin to pilfering from the Tsaritsa herself.

With a few deft movements, you manipulate the lock, and the door swings open without a sound. The shop's interior is as silent as a tomb, its owners having long retired for the evening. You enter, your eyes alight with anticipation.

You navigate the shop's layout like a child in a candy store, your gaze drawn to the glass cases showcasing a myriad of jewels, each one casting a beguiling shimmer. With nimble fingers, you open the case and select a ring featuring a sizable ruby. You slip it onto your finger, admiring the deep red luster. The ring itself is far from delicate, clearly designed for a more masculine hand – someone like…

You quickly remove the ring, tossing it into your bag. No point dwelling on such thoughts; it's time to collect your treasures and make your exit. You work swiftly, carefully placing necklaces and bracelets into your waiting bag, ensuring the displays remain untouched.

The unmistakable sound of heavy boots approaching makes you freeze in place, listening to the resonant thud of leather shoes and the subtle jingle of chains and cuffs. It's time to depart. You wrap up your mission with meticulous precision, and as swiftly as you had arrived, you vanish into the night. Peering from the safety of an alley, you remain silent, unable to spot the approaching figure. Even worse, you're uncertain of the direction from which he's drawing near.

Taking on the rooftop is undoubtedly the better choice. Climbing up the copper gutter pipe, you gain a sweeping view of the city from the high vantage point. From here, you can easily traverse the rooftops, leaping across buildings and making swift progress. As the immediate danger lessens, you descend to the streets below.

Suddenly, that distinct sound returns, the one signaling his presence. How did he catch up to you so fast? It's time for plan B. You snatch a dark cloak from a nearby stall and quickly drape it over yourself, making a dash for the nearest stationed Garde.

"Oh! Garde! Monsieur!" you implore, rushing up to the uniformed soldier. The young man, evidently new to the force, turns his attention to you with an eager desire to assist.

"Madame? What's the problem?" he inquires, clearly willing to help.

"I was just at the tavern getting a drink, and I think a strange man is following me! Please, help me!" You plead, ensuring fear reflects in your eyes.

"Do not worry, ma'am. I will take care of this," he assures, stepping around you to face the direction of the approaching footsteps.

"Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur," you say, masking your sly grin as you slip away.

The guard stands firm, ready to protect the innocent young woman who has placed her trust in him, aligning with the oath to safeguard all citizens of Fontaine. His excitement is palpable.

A shadow emerges in the dimly lit street, advancing slowly. The young Garde stands at attention. "You there! I'd like a word with you!" he calls out.

The approaching figure steps into the light, revealing a large, menacing man. He possesses piercing blue eyes, is adorned with chains and has a pair of handcuffs hanging at his side. His coat is casually slung over his back, and a scar stretches from the base of his neck, disappearing under his clothing.

The young Garde recognizes the man and instantly locks up. "Y-Your Grace! My apologies! I mistook you for a suspect!"

"Suspect? What gave you that idea?" the man inquires, tilting his head gently.

"This young lady, she—" The Garde turns, only to find that you've vanished. "Where'd she go?"

"A woman?" he asks.

"Y-Yes, a woman. She claimed a man was following her," the Garde explains. The man, who moments ago wore a serious expression, breaks into a smirk and chuckles softly.

You've successfully ascended the tower, fully prepared to make your getaway into the cover of the night. Luckily, tonight's escape had proven effortless, and you hadn't even needed to trigger an alarm to elude the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. He must be accustomed to your flamboyant tricks by now. The two of you had been engaged in this thrilling game for so long that you constantly had to innovate new ways to lead him astray. However, you'd come to find that the simplest tricks were the most enjoyable, especially after the sheer madness you'd put him through as you slipped away.

As you make your way toward freedom, a hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pressing your back into the wall. He looms above you, an unamused expression on his face. The way his stunning eyes seem to gleam in the dim light sends a shiver down your spine.

"Hello, darling," you taunt.

"Give it up. I'm taking you in," he declares with unwavering determination.

"That's what you always say," you mutter, causing him to grit his teeth.

"The bag," he demands, extending his hand.

"You're no fun," you pout, pulling the strap over your head and placing it in his palm. Wriothesley keeps you cornered as he opens the satchel, only to find it empty—no jewels, necklaces, or even a few coins. "Trouble?" you ask with a smirk.

"Where are the jewels?" he asks bluntly.

"What jewels?" you play innocent. He grabs your arms, pressing you firmly against the wall.

"I'm not in the mood for this today," he growls.

"But I'm completely innocent, Your Grace," you say with wide, doe eyes. "Little old me? A thief? Isn't it wrong to accuse someone without any evidence?"

"Enough!" he snaps, pushing you closer, your chests almost touching. You can feel the way his heart races, how you make him nervous. It sends a thrill through you.

"Or was there a different reason you followed me tonight, Your Grace?" you inquire, leaning forward. Your lips are mere inches apart. He tries to hide the way his breath hitches, but your smirk widens. "Did you want me all to yourself? You could've just asked. I'd never refuse." You tease him with expert precision, knowing precisely what to say and do to provoke him. You close the distance even further, his eyes locked onto your lips. Your breaths mingled so closely that your lips could touch if either of you moved even slightly. And just when it seems like he can't take it any longer, you pull away. "Forgive me, Your Grace. Sometimes I forget you're a man of the law, dedicated to your work. Surely, you're far too busy for me to take up any more of your time."

"Shut up," he snaps, closing the gap between you in an instant. He captures your lips, instantly stealing your breath away. His kisses are demanding, his desire to take the lead palpable, and you willingly submit to his commanding presence. His teeth graze along your bottom lip, eliciting a breathy, barely audible moan from you. You press your thighs together, utterly captivated by the way this man has the power to make you unravel. His longing for you has always had the ability to make you tremble, particularly in moments like these, when the game between you two reaches its zenith, when he finally catches you, and both of your desires hit you without reserve.

His hand raises to the back of your neck, tilting your head up, giving him more of you. He's going mad. He has to be. There must be some kind of spell or pheromone that you've cast over him, that makes him need you desperately. Everytime you're before him like this, his morals fly out the window, and his lust becomes so thick he can't resist. He's well aware of the moral dilemma that plagues him. You're a true criminal, through and through, and he's fully cognizant of the wrongdoing of his actions. However, he never feels the exhilaration of the chase as intensely as he does when it's with you.

The tranquil sound of water churning brings you back to the present moment. Regrettably, it's time for you to make your exit. Your fingers slide over his vest pocket, and Wriothesley's brow furrows as you withdraw from the kiss.

"Gotta run," you murmur, slipping out of his grasp and collecting your discarded bag. Wriothesley's brows knit as you head toward the boat.

"Wait!" He attempts to step forward but is abruptly pulled back. He turns, only to discover that you've cuffed him to the service pipes. With a frustrated grunt, he struggles against the cuffs, and something falls out of his pocket. He gazes downward, finding a jewel necklace on the ground. Lifting his head to you again, you turn back to him with a playful smile.

"I had fun."

"Dammit!" He curses, his bracers materializing on his hand as he strikes through his own cuffs. Finally free, he makes a dash toward the boat. But the ferry has already set off, and he can only huff in frustration as you slip away.

Again.

Your fingers trace over the ledger, where rows upon rows of names denote inmates at the Fortress of Meropide. However, none of them match the one you're seeking. You can't help but wonder how many trivial offenses landed people in this imposing place.

Infiltrating the fortress itself was a relatively straightforward affair. They treat their prisoners well down here, making escape seem an improbable feat. Most inmates are cowed by the mere sight of the glass barrier that separates them from the relentless ocean outside. However, gaining entry was an entirely different challenge. Infiltrating the Duke's office, that's where things get tricky. Luckily, your familiarity with the office makes the entry a minor concern, especially when you have a duplicate key at your disposal.

"I'm assuming you didn't come for tea," a voice intones behind you. His hand closes the ledger's cover and rests atop it. Veins course through his arm and hand, and his knuckles are rough and calloused. You push away the inappropriate thoughts that threaten to surface.

"Should I even ask how you got in?" he continues, but you maintain your silence, choosing not to respond. Playing along with him today is the last thing on your mind.

"Who are you looking for?" he gets straight to the point.

"An...associate of mine went missing a few days ago. I was merely curious if he happened to be in your custody," you reply. He picks up the ledger and moves to the other side of his desk to set it down.

"Associate, huh? I thought you worked alone."

"I do," you confirm.

"His name?"

"As if I'd give you that. I'm not here to further incriminate him; I need to secure his swift release."

"Then it seems I can't help you," he states.

"You've never helped me," you correct, to which he chuckles.

"Touche."

"I brought you more of that blend you like," you say, gesturing toward the cabinet.

"Paid for with the proceeds from the jewels?" he questions, a hint of darkness in his tone. You smirk.

"I don't recall any jewels. It's simply a friendly gift, a favor for a favor," you reply, reveling in how his eyes narrow at your words.

"And what favor have I done for you?" he inquires, already knowing the answer. He's trying to ensnare you with your own words.

"I'll prepare a cup for you, dear. You seem weary," you offer, turning toward the cabinet. He's beside you in an instant, gripping your wrist.

"I wouldn't trust you to make anything for me," he snaps, making you smirk.

"Do you truly believe I'd do anything to harm you?" you ask in a feigned tone of surprise. You notice the tension in his jaw and your gaze drifts lower to the scar on his chest, which barely peeks above his clothing, triggering memories of that fateful day. "...Anymore?"

"Go sit down," he orders, and you pull away from his grasp.

"Yes, Your Grace," you say as you step over to the table. Outside the window, the vast expanse of the ocean unfolds, with creatures moving freely, seemingly unconcerned with the curse that hangs over the people of this nation.

You can't help but envy them, particularly after the arrival of that blonde-haired traveler, which marked the beginning of a downward spiral.

"I would like—"

"Three sugar cubes, I know," he interjects, causing a subtle smile to play on your lips.

"What time will the Iudex be arriving? I'd hate to be a bother," you inquire, knowing full well that you've committed his schedule to memory. He sighs, realizing there's no use concealing it from you.

"He won't be. Monsieur Neuvillette had a sudden trial, so he's rescheduled for next week," he admits, an air of candor coloring his response.

"What a shame. That blend is best served fresh," you murmur, your gaze drifting back to the water. A few moments later, he joins you at the table, the gentle clinking of teacups and saucers filling the air. You eagerly pick up your cup.

"I must admit I only ever have tea with you," you confess.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow as he settles into his seat. He observes you as you bring the cup to your lips and take a sip. Only then does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in his tea.

"It's true," you affirm, setting the cup down. "I always believe tea deserves to be enjoyed in good company."

"You don't have any other good company?" he inquires.

"None quite like you," you reply with a smile.

"Your clever quips won't get you out of here, you know."

"You think I'm clever?" You tease with a playful glint in your eyes.

"I don't intend to just let you walk out of here."

"You never have, not until I was properly sore and had trouble walking the next day," you taunt, taking another sip, causing him to gulp down his tea. His hands clench as you speak.

"Enough. This... arrangement we had is over. I'm taking you in. I'll inform Neuvillette of your transgressions, and you'll face justice," he declares, his tone stern.

"And then I'll find myself right back under your vigilant watch. Is that what you desire? To keep me close? Ensure that we'll never be apart again?" You tease. His jaw tightens. "I thought you relished our little game as much as I did."

"Game?! You're stealing from people!" His anger is palpable now.

You roll your eyes, reaching into your jacket and producing a document, which you slap onto the table. He leans back, perplexed. "And what is this?"

"The justification you seek. The part of you that yearns to believe I'm not entirely malevolent, this is your evidence."

"I don't understand."

"You will," you assure him. The grandfather clock in the corner begins to chime, marking the appointed time.

"It's time for me to go."

"What?" he blurts out.

You rise from the table with alacrity. "Thank you for the tea. I had a lovely time." You begin to walk away, and he suddenly springs to his feet. However, dizziness overtakes him, and he barely catches himself as the world blurs around him. Overwhelming drowsiness renders his legs wobbly, and he finds himself on his knees, struggling to resist it.

"When?" he manages to mumble.

"It was your teacup. You always use the same one," you giggle. He exhales in frustration. You draw closer.

"Don't worry. I'd never harm you. You're just going to have a short nap."

His hand grasps your wrist. "Don't go," he pleads, his desperation evident. It ignites a spark in your heart, prompting you to sink to your knees, cupping his cheeks.

"Well, when you ask so sweetly like that, how can I resist?" you murmur before pressing your lips to his. "Listen to Siegewinne, dear. You've been appearing quite exhausted lately. But I hope you'll feel better when you awaken. And on top of that," your gaze drifts toward the document, "you might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

After a lengthy and exasperating lecture from Siegewinne, Wriothesley finally returns to his office. It appears that you were telling the truth; it was merely a sleeping drug, and by the time he awoke, you had vanished. He didn't provide Siegewinne with many details about your encounter, nor did he delve into any in-depth discussion about you.

He sinks back into his chair, holding a cool washcloth to his forehead. You had been here, well within his grasp, and yet, once again, he found himself incapable of fulfilling the very duty he had sworn to uphold. It frustrates him to no end. Every time you make an appearance, it catches him off guard. However, when he saw you inspecting his office, for a brief moment, he had hoped you were there for him alone. Alas, that's never the case.

To make matters worse, you've infiltrated his dreams. Every time he closes his eyes, there you are, bare beneath him, your cheeks adorned with a charming flush. Your hands tenderly caress his face, and he takes you with a gentleness and passion that starkly contrasts the reality of your late-night rendezvous. Normally, he's rough with you, mirroring your intensity rather than expressing love.

The thought of you alone is enough to stir his desires, and he curses himself. You had drugged him not long ago, yet he's back to square one. Removing the washcloth, he stares at the ceiling, hoping his little problem will subside on its own. He replays the recent events in his mind, striving to rekindle his anger instead of his lust.

"You might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

What did you mean by that? How could he perceive you differently? His gaze drifts to the desk, where the document you left behind rests. He leans forward, scoops up the folded papers, and breaks the wax seal. As he peruses the contents, his heart sinks.

The elderly man who owns the jewelry shop was using it to launder money from human trafficking sales. You appraised numerous items and recorded their selling prices. You even managed to gather evidence of the boats at the marina being involved in the conspiracy. Photos, evidence—everything is meticulously compiled within these documents. This alone must have taken you weeks. A small note is clipped to the last page, the page itself revealing the location where the captors are holding their victims.

Without jewels, there are no sales. I have bought you time, Warden. Do not disappoint me.

He rises from his desk, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next.

The entirety of Fontaine's police force is mobilized for this operation, simultaneously raiding all the identified targets. Wriothesley, however, personally takes charge of the most significant arrest. With a sense of duty, he apprehends the elderly man, promptly handcuffs him, and pushes him toward the exit.

Outside, the ever-dramatic residents of Fontaine have congregated, forming a boisterous audience to witness this spectacle. The vigilant Gardes work diligently to keep the curious onlookers at bay as he escorts the man outside. His eyes inadvertently scan the crowd.

A sudden pause overcomes him as he catches sight of you. A sly smile graces your lips as you knowingly meet his gaze, and then, with your characteristic grace, you disappear into the crowd, leaving him with a sense of intrigue.

About a week later, following the court's verdict and the subsequent exile to the Fortress, you make a return. Leaning casually on his desk, you patiently await his arrival. As he trudges up the steps, his demeanor brightens in pleasant surprise at the unexpected sight of you. There's a trace of solemnity in your smile as your eyes meet his.

Setting his report down, he approaches you, his curiosity evident in his tone. "You've been gone for a while."

"I had some important matters to attend to," you explain. "The victims who were kidnapped are now under the care of the Spina di Rosula. Most of them are just awaiting reunions with their families. Convincing a few to testify during the trial was a bit challenging, but I'm relieved it's come to a favorable resolution. The Spina di Rosula has pledged to hunt down the buyers, and I've provided them with all the information I could gather."

"Why not have the Spina di Rosula collaborate with the Garde?" he inquires.

"You and I both know that would never happen."

"What now?" he asks.

"My job is done, and I've cut my few remaining ties. All that remains," you say, raising his cuffs, "is you, Your Grace." He takes the cuffs from you, studying them with furrowed brows. As you lift your hands toward him, he glances from the cuffs to your wrists.

With a resounding clack, the cuffs land on the desk. The gravity of this decision settles upon you, hiding within it the unspoken message he wishes to convey. Slowly, you lower your hands as he fixes his gaze on you, drawing dangerously near.

"You're making a mistake," you caution.

"I know," he responds before pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

In a matter of seconds you both burst into his bedroom, lips locked, jackets falling to the floor. Your nimble fingers are quick on the buttons of his vest as he backs you towards the bed. He pulls your shirt upwards, his rough hands riding up your front. Once one hand finds your breast you moan into his mouth. His ice cold touch electrifies you. He rids you of your shirt and pushes you down onto the bed. His gray vest falls to the floor leaving him looking seductively disheveled in just his black button up.

The tip of your nail fits between your teeth as you devour him with your eyes. "You're going too slow," you whine, reaching a hand out. Your fingers trail over his shirt, feeling every curve of his muscles just beneath the fabric. It has you aching for him. He reaches up, tugging his tie free from his neck. You light up, obediently offering your other wrist to him too.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd liked being my prisoner," he says, leaning closer as he ties the red fabric around your wrists.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you tease, leaning in as well. His gaze falls to your lips before lifting your arms over your head and guiding you to lay on your back. From there he spreads your thighs, fitting himself between. Pressing your lips tight together, you resist the urge to beg. Even a small bit of friction would be heavenly, but it doesn't come. Instead he slowly strips your bottom half, taking his sweet time to admire your panties before just snapping them off your hips.

He sinks to his knees, lips caressing your inner thigh. Your hands find their way to your mouth trying to muffle your own weak whimpers as he trails towards your core. Where you want him the most.

Just as his breath ghosts over your aching cunt he stops. Suddenly his hand wraps around the tie and shoves it upwards again. "Do not move them again, if you do you can forget about my earlier mistake. I'll take you in, right now, like this," he threatens in a husky voice, eyes boring into yours. You smirk, lifting your thigh to rub against his hip.

"Like this, Your Grace? How scandalous," you tease.

"Do you understand?" he demands.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He snaps.

"Yes, sir," you say, your voice growing weaker.

"Good girl," he praises, and you know you're soaked down there. Cheeks tinged red and heart racing as he sinks back down your body. He lifts your thighs over his shoulders before tugging you in one last time. Torturously slow he gives a chaste kiss to your clit. You resist the urge to pull your arms back down as a groan leaves your lips, your body involuntarily twitching. Wriothesley smirks at the display. It's as if he's trained your body to fall apart at just his touch, something he carries with pride.

His tongue dives between your folds, and you throw your head back with a sinful moan. The man below you is terrifyingly good with his tongue and fingers which makes his next move a damning one.

Two fingers easily slide into you, but he makes sure not to curve them into the place you like. Instead he watches the way you writhe, almost trying to force his fingers that way, the pleasure making you dizzy. Pathetic moans and whimpers pass your lips, music to his ears.

"Please… fuck— mh."

"What was that?" He mutters. "I couldn't hear you." His fingers slow to a cruel rub.

"I wanna cum. Please," you beg.

"Really?... I don't know if you deserve to," he says, his voice dropping a few octaves. The voice change drives you, making him smirk as he feels you tighten. "After all, you didn't tell me what you were up to. You worked outside the law, you could've gotten yourself hurt. Now, that… I just can't seem to forgive." He crooks one finger up slightly, sending you spiraling.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry! I won't do it again," you promise. He slowly rises to his feet, fingers still deep inside you. Wriothesley leans over your trembling frame. His hand caresses your cheek with a tender touch. The coolness of his fingers on your burning cheek is practically bliss.

"Now, how can I believe you? You've broken every other promise you've made to me," he says tauntingly. Fuck! You hate him. You know what he's trying to do, and he knows how desperate you are, enough to agree to any of his demands. He brings your diverting gaze back to his.

"No more secrets," you agree, making him sigh.

"Now, was that so hard?" He asks, pressing right there making your head go fuzzy. You gasp in surprise as his fingers pull you apart all over again, the familiar sensation pooling within you. Wriothesley presses his lips to yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth so he can still hear your gasping moans. "Cum, pretty girl." Your body shudders in the wake of your orgasm, and he doesn't relent, driving you oversensitive in a matter of moments. Your hands grab his wrist, stopping him as you still ride out the end of your orgasm. He smirks and pulls his fingers out. You feel the tie release your wrists.

He's gentle as he lifts your face, seeing the dazed, blissed out expression you wear. His lips peck around your cheeks, to your neck, to your collar, and them to your shoulders by the time your high fades.

"Back with me?" He asks lifting your chin, you nod and he slots his lips against yours while opening your legs again. He fits himself between them and pulls on his belt with one hand, something you don't mind helping him with. He chuckles as he feels you desperately pull his pants open. His aching cock springs free hard and hot in your palm as you stroke him. His forehead sinks to your shoulder as he shudders, slightly thrusting into your touch. "Shit."

"Hurry," you urge. Lifting himself up he positions himself so the head just barely brushes against you. You press your lips together.

Wriothesley reaches upwards, his hand sliding down your arm until he can fit his fingers between yours. Then he thrusts. His other hand grips your hip so tight you pray there will be a bruise. He stretches you open, forcing you to take his size, your eyes roll back into your head.

"Fuck!" You cry out as he bottoms out. He starts with slow shallow thrusts but his patience quickly wears thin. In no time he's snapping his hips forward, rocking the bed, shoving himself deeper inside you. It's predatory, the way he heaves, the way he takes, the way his fingers grip your hair and hold your head up to make you watch him fuck your brains out.

In practically no time at all you're cumming again, but he doesn't slow down, his own orgasm approaching as he feels you clench down on him. The continued force of his thrusts sends you right into a second orgasm and he follows suit. Your cunt milks him for all he's worth. Every drop belongs to you.

He belongs to you.

"Just fucking be mine already," he groans. His words break through your hazy mind in an instant.

"What?"

"Fuck," he mutters. "You're gonna make me say it outright, aren't you?" He leans over fingers brushing over your cheek. "Stay with me. Be with me."

Your heart feels as if it may beat out of your chest as he says it. His cold eyes are now strikingly warm and tender. But you don't know what to say.

Instead you reach up, hands pulling his face down to yours. He complies easily. You kiss him sweetly, whispering against his lips, "I'm yours."

Your confirmation makes his heart sing as he kisses you with more fervor, growing hard inside you once more. The first thrust catches you by surprise but you're loving it. This time there's nothing rough about the way he holds you. He treats you softly, like you'll break if he's any harder. He holds your body in tight to his, burying himself deep inside you, until you're seeing stars.

The clock chimes, marking the hour as Wriothesley opens his eyes. To his dismay the spot next to him is empty. He rubs his face, already stressed that you've disappeared like usual. Unfortunately, maybe he was foolish enough to hope for something more from you.

Sitting up he finally notices the weight on his finger. A ring, a gigantic red ruby within a thick band. The metal is dark and the design is intricate. Honestly, it truly seems like something he'd wear.

Peering over to your side one more time his eyes widen as he sees a folded up paper. With one hand he retrieves it and flips it open.

My secrets come at a cost, Your Grace. So, if you manage to catch me Thursday night, I might consider telling you one or two. Preferably over tea.

I'll be expecting you.

He laughs to himself, "So, the chase is still on, huh? Better make it interesting."

#wriothesley x reader

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quigonswife8 · 6 months

Text

Johnny Cage x reader: depression

You may deal with depression but at least you have John to help you get through it

[gif creds: @mortal-kombat-1]

Warnings: depression.

Here for you if you ever need to talk, you're not alone❤️

---

John Carlton, better known as Johnny Cage, is your partner of four years. The two of you wed in your hometown, and have been going strong just as long. He may be famous, adored by many, but he's still the same man you married. The same man that took your heart, and has kept it ever since.

The two of you trust one-another with your lives, would do anything for one-another. The day you told him about your depression he became more protective, more loving than he already was. He had sat down with you taken your hand in his and gave you a loving speech about never leaving you; even if the thoughts would convince you otherwise.

People would be confused, however; you're married to the Johnny Cage, you have unlimited money at your expense, a lavish house and plenty of food to last a life time. Gifts and limo rides, all the best places you've visited, and everything you've ever needed, so why would there even be depression.

Well even with all of this and more that's how depression works. As hard as you try and get that same happiness from what you used to love on some, if not most days, those same things don't bring that same meaningfulness, same happiness.

------

The sun slithers in through your half-opened blinds; with a soft groan you rub your eyes. They move overt to the alarm clock crooked on your side-table, and in large easy to read the numbers 10:00 am.

John, currently at work, had left a cute handwritten note on the side-table:

Hey sweets I had to get going and continue filming the movie and all that, but I left you some money for you to order in. I'll see you at home later on.

-lots of love, your movie-star❤️

Your favourite perfume sprayed on the note brings a smile, even if it's small, to your face. You hold the note to your chest and sigh softly; he's always so considerate, so sympathetic and caring. He may have a big ego, even John admits to that, but that doesn't cloud the rest of his personality.

A quick glance at the clock 10:10. it feels so early despite it already being 10 in the morning. Though this isn't a rare occurrence and if there's anyone that knows that best, it's John; maybe that's why he left you money to order in, he had probably picked up your depressive mood recently. No words had to be exchanged, as John can read body language pretty well i.e. comes with being a movie star.

"I love you John..." the note still held to your chest.

For the rest of the day you lounge around; John sends the occasional message checking up on you. He leaves pictures of himself at work too.

11:01: thinking of you sweets, I love you heaps❤️

12:05: I just remembered this nice little italian joint when you're up for it i'd love to take you honey. Imagining you all dressed up is making me flustered ;) but you could wear a trashbag and still make me flustered anyway❤️

2:05: Sorry for the late reply sweets had to re-take this scene more times than I could count, but I’ll be home soon. I know that you’re not really doing well so I’m gonna finish wrapping up and I’ll be home.

All these messages and more bring a purpose to your life, that he always brings. No matter how down you feel Johnny always knows how to make you a little better, be it with compliments, cuddles, kisses, etc; he's your light in the dark, truly.

You run a hand over your face, the depression seeming to kick in bad. It's almost as if your mood did a full 180 when you already woke up feeling bad.

You doze off a few times before John returns to you, your love returns.

[3:05 pm]

A familiar door opening followed by the sweet sound of your husbands voice brings you out of the book you're ready. Placing it down on the bed your feet carry you downstairs to John, and John lights up seeing his beloved.

"Come here honey..."- his arms outstretched to hug you. You close the gap and wrap your arms around him in a kind of needy way, to which John happily obliges by tightening his arms around you.

"I'm so happy to be home..."

"And i'm happy you're home baby."

John rubs your back, and then pulls out of the hug. His right hand moving underneath your chin to tilt it up towards him; his eyes have softened, they only focus on you and nothing else. He missed giving you attention and you missed receiving it even if he was only gone for the day.

"You're so perfect, I swear I fall more in love with everytime I see you."- a soft chuckle following, though that smile he wears doesn't falter. "...look at you making this movie-star melt."

You giggle and look down, and John laughs softly.

"God you're adorable..."- and he leans down and kisses your cheek. "...now time to go lay down sweets.” without a second thought John scoops you up in his arms and carries you up to the room: he still has some movie makeup left on his face yet regardless he still looks perfect.

The thoughts make you wonder how he could even be with you, but your heart wins and you only melt more knowing he chose you.

John lays you down on the bed, adjusting the pillows and blanket. Then he crawls under the blanket and with one swift movement has wrapped you up in his arms once more, your head pressed against his chest.

He presses a soft kiss to your head and creates more room to be more comfortable while keeping you close; so close you can hear his heartbeat. It's calming.

"So...how have you been sweets? Im so sorry that you’re going through this…it’s bad, huh.” you love how well he can read you. You sigh and start:

"Yeah I haven't been great John. My...depression has been bad, i've been trying to manage it but it only gets worse. I barely left the bed today I know I should have but I...I just couldn't..."

John's heart breaks even more, and he tightens his hold but not uncomfortably. "Oh honey I'm so sorry." and he presses another kiss to your head, it's so...sweet and so calming. "...I may not be going through what you're going through but that doesn't mean you're not, and I'm so sorry you have to deal with this shitty thing."

John sighs softly and closes his eyes. "...but like I always say i'm here for you no matter what and you know what? I'm gonna take a week off work to be here with you-"

"But John-"

"No buts." he hushes you softly. "...the movie can wait, your health and wellbeing is more important. That’s why I wrapped up early to be here for you. So how about we spend the week just lounging around watching cheesy movies in our pajamas.”

Oh you love this man.

"Really?"

He squeezes your hand and smiles, those pearly whites on display.

"Really sweetheart. God if the movie has to be stopped altogether I could care less, because you're my world sweets, and you mean more than some fake movie. So I'm gonna pamper you and show you all the love and attention sweetheart." and he pulls you closer and presses yet another kiss to your head. "...because you deserve it all, and more. My angel."

Shifting your body, you smile. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek which makes him blush a little, and then you put a hand on his cheek, and keep it there. The love in both of your eyes are so evident.

"I love you, so much."

You settle back into his arms and John keeps you close to his chest, to his heart. Your breathing evens out and you find yourself drifting off in his loving embrace; before that happens he whispers an I love you, then, you're out.

John looks down at you so lovingly, and he pulls the blankets up, resting his head on the pillow being careful not to wake you.

He takes another look at you, another "I love you." falling from his lips, then like you John is out. The two of you asleep in one-another's arms, almost like you're the only two people left in this world and nothing else matters.

----

#johnny #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #john carlton #mk1 #comfort fic #depression fic

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justpoliteconversations · 3 months

Text

Missed Communication [Time x Fem!OC x Malon]

In which Time has met his match in the least flattering way possible and Malon has custody of all the brain cells.

A.K.A Time and OC are idiots and Malon's their only saving grace.

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

This was not how I thought my first visit to Lon Lon Ranch would go.

Maybe a friendly greeting with Time's Misses, a few laughs with the boys and then a well placed excuse to escape the chronic awkwardness (and unease) that seems to dominate my every interaction with the Hero of Time these days.

Not. This. Whatever this is.

---

Our first meeting had been as normal and pleasant as any magic portal driven meeting could be. That is to say, not normal at all but pleasant regardless. Just really, really weird.

The older Hero and I had just clicked, despite this. His nonchalant deadpanned humor matched well with my well-placed instigation and soft-spoken wit. It helped that I was (physically) his age and boosted a maturity surpassing that of most of his charges.

Also, he was handsome as sin. Like, painfully pretty. Don't get me wrong, objectively all the boys were beautiful, but the mature set of Time's jaw and the faint lines around his eyes just stroked the woman in me.

Man has dilf himbo energy in spades. The whole damned package.

Malon was a lucky woman indeed.

The first few months of our aquatince was warm, simple and steeped in a growing trust that grew with each exasperated sideward glance and fond smile shared over the boys' heads. He was, in the truest meaning of the word, my friend. I dare even say a good one.

And then it happened.

That damned fortune teller.

The beginning of the end of our budding friendship. Stopped dead in it's tracks in less than the span of a breath.

I don't know what she'd told him that day, and he wouldn't tell, but it changed something fundimental in the bond I'd thought we'd shared. Now, he can hardly stand to look at me most days, let alone have a full converstion.

And I'm...just so lost.

It hurts, the sudden distance. So unexpected. One moment we're sleeping next to each other each night, whispering fondly about his beloved wife and my beloved pets, and the next an entire fire and six bedrolls lay between us.

But what can I do. He'd made his stance clear, silent though it may be, and who am I to cling to a friendship I was the only one harboring. It wasn't fair to him, and it most certainly wasn't fair to me.

So, I let it go. Just stayed in the back of the group where our paths wouldn't have to cross and began to forge new friendships among the boys. And honestly, I'm still enjoying myself among this gaggle of sweet, overly protective gremlins. Despite whatever misfortune (or miscommunication) caused this rift between Time and I.

Case in point, Legend might just be the funniest guy I've met in a long time and I'm glad I've had the opportunity to grow closer to him. Even if his words sometimes bite a little too close to home. Though Hyrule's quiet concern over the strained interaction between thier unofficial leader and myself often leaves me feeling guilty. His large, inquiring eyes and soft, sympathetic smile enough to shake a woman down to the bones.

Such sensitive boys, all of them.

I wish I'd had answers for them.

Especially when it all took an even deeper nosedive when Time recieved a letter from his wife. Standard fair but for the way his eye had hooded and cut towards me for just the briefest of moments, focused and cold.

Had I not been looking around the group as I had in that moment, I would have missed it entirely. But be it fate or luck (ill though it may have been) I had unintentionally made eye contact with him.

It was the first time in all my interactions with the Chain that I felt...

...afraid. Of him.

But it was gone as soon as it happened. Seemingly a simple misread flicker of the firelight, but for the way my heart stood cold in my chest for the rest of the night afterward.

And many more nights to follow.

So, upon exiting the portal to the wide pastures of a land I pegged to be Time's, I steeled myself. Against what, I wasn't sure, but I was on his home turf now and he certainly didn't seem to want me around. So, I'd imagine he'd take exception to my presence in his home.

But nothing could have prepared me for...

"Goodness! Why, aren't ya just the sweetest thing! All doe eyed and honey dew smile! Dear! Why didn't you tell me she'd be such a darling!"

Malon.

She took to me like a bee to pollen, a moth to light. She locked her arm with mine immediately and refused to budge, even as she embraced the boys one by one. Her dark blue eyes were glimmering (like the surface of deep water) and hair shining in the sunlight. Sun-kissed face glowing with wonder and delight. The freckles on her cheeks charming across her sweat slicked skin.

She was wonderful. She was beautiful.

I was terrified.

I couldn't bring myself to look in Time's direction. I didn't think my heart would survive what I'd find.

I was afraid to see that cold, focused eye ripping though my soul again, as though staring down an enemy.

I made my excuses early, feigning weariness, much to Melon's dismay. She took it well enough though. Called me a delicate, spring flower. Showed me to the guests rooms, offered me my own. I refused (I wanted to stay with the boys. She seemed charmed by the admission). Touched my hand with such warmth, was slow to withdraw.

I smiled at her, small but grateful, hesitant. My heart was hammering in my chest. The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the feeling of a stare on the side of my face.

She smiled back, seemingly eager for my tentative gestures of friendship. So very sincere, radiating the kind of adoration a person spends their whole lives searching for.

I didn't look to her right. I didn't look up nor over her shoulder. I kept my eyes on hers, entranced by their dark colors and the little sparks of life dancing within depths but afraid to tell her so.

She was absolutely gorgeous and I was so smitten and so very fucked.

I hoped my face didn't give me away. I prayed that my eyes didn't reveal my thoughts.

When her eyes crinkled at the corners, I knew I'd failed.

I bid them a good evening.

Even as I'd closed the door I could still feel his gaze on me.

I stayed in the room all that evening and all through the night. Four was sweet enough to bring me a plate of dinner, and I was once again so grateful to be in the company of such caring young men.

I really, really was.

That night I slept with Hyrule curled against my back, trying to be the best big spoon he could. Sky was at his, the whole damned ladle to encompass us both within his arms. Legend at our feet, his hand curled loosely around Sky's half rumpled sock and face scrunched in discontent, fingers occasionally twitching around the fabric.

I loved them all so much.

---

Then things got weird.

I exited the room the next morning before the majority of the boys had even left their bedrolls and found Time waiting at the end of the hallway. He was wearing a plain off-white shirt and dark pants.

He looked good. Relaxed, almost, but for the tension in his shoulders when he caught sight of me. The reminder was enough to tear my eyes from him and keep my gaze lowered as I moved steadily to walk passed him.

"Hey." The sound of his voice startled me, so long has it been since it was directed towards me.

He sounded awkward and I wanted to ease that awkwardness. I did not have the strength to, however. I was a coward.

And hurt. Very, very hurt.

Petty.

"Yes?" I eventually said after the stilted silence had carried on too long, unable to keep watching this strong man (this good man, still, for all we were at odds) struggling to continue.

His one good eye tried to meet my gaze, feather soft and regretful in my peripheral, so very vulnerable under my carefully blank stare fixated on his cheek.

"I know I don't deserve it, and you need not accept, but I'd like to properly apologize for the way I've treated you in the recent weeks." He finally managed, voice laden with an emotion I couldn't fully place but thought sounded suspiciously like grief. "If you'd allow me, may I please escort you to the kitchen?"

I wanted to say no. I wanted to stay silent. I wanted to be petty.

I wanted Sky to stop worrying about me. I wanted Twilight to stop repenting to me. I wanted Hyrule to stop fretting for me. I wanted Warriors to stop defending me. I wanted Wild to stop raging for me. I wanted Legend to stop hurting for me.

I wanted...I just wanted...

I just wanted my friend back.

I wanted to feel safe again.

"Okay."

I've always been such a fool for vulnerable men.

Tentatively, he offered his arm, eye soft and resigned from the corner of my vision. Waiting for me to reject him, I realized, wanting me to express my rage the only way he knew I'd allow myself. Wanting to be punished accordingly for having suddenly scorned my friendly gestures and inquiring whispers.

What a fool man. Such a damned idiot.

Guess that makes two of us.

I took his arm, fighting down the wave of unease and spite that pushed against my throat. His arm was warm and solid under my tentative touch, barely restrained power coursing under the cloth and skin. I'd nearly forgotten how his shoulders seemed wide enough to carry the weight of the world.

No. No I hadn't. In the quiet of the night, when the unease and uncertainty were strongest, sometimes I wondered if that might would one day snuff the light from my eyes.

I wondered if he'd cry in remorse afterwards. If he'd feel anything at all.

He wouldn't. He wouldn't feel a thing because he'd never do that and I knew it. Wouldn't have been fighting for breathing room between Sky and Hyrule's smothering heat if he'd had any intent to remove me from their lives. Wouldn't have been cradling Wind's small head between the soft valley of my breasts if he'd deemed me dangerous or unsavory or suspicious.

I may have fallen out of his favor, but he loved his boys with a fierce and zealous devotion. He'd never let harm befall them, be it body, soul or tenderly beating hearts.

He'd have cut me down long ago if he ever meant to. To spare his boys the pain of loss.

The kitchen was bright and smelled faintly of herbs when we entered, my arm still folded gently with Time's.

Malon was there, enchanting red hair down around her shoulders and eyes bright, despite the early hour. The faint crease lines of pillow marks reddened the soft curve of her cheek, stark even against the spread of her freckles.

She smiled at me, tired and fond, before pinning her husband with an intense, expectant stare. The set of her mouth and brow was carefully neutral, but the fire in her eyes gave away her true feelings.

She was mad. Not livid or spiteful or even disappointed, just mad.

She was scarier for it. I could tell she wasn't the type of woman to go off on a rampage and say or do anything that would deminish the validity of her own arguements or feelings. She was probably the type of woman to say exactly what she means and how she feels without embellishment nor doubt. She seemed the type of person you couldn't find fault in their anger, because it was perfectly supported by their words and actions.

Noticing this, I almost felt bad for Time and how thoroughly he was probably admonished to make him this compliant after weeks of silence and avoidance. Almost. Mostly I just felt a hesitant spark of validation and kinship with Malon, even as confusion and caution swirled in my chest.

Why? Why was this even happening in the first place? Why this sudden atmosphere around the couple?

They loved each other so much. They missed each other so much. Before- that happened, Time never shied away from expressing his feelings regarding his wife. Nor what she'd written to him in turn.

What happened? What did she see between Time and I that would bring her scrutiny down on her beloved husband? For a woman she didn't even know?

Time led me to the chairs closest to where Malon was leaning against the counter, loosening his grip enough for me to remove my arm from his. It seemed to be another conscious decision on his part, to not pull away and to allow me to be in control of our proximity. Honestly, it was sweet he was trying so hard, and had it been before all of...this, I certainly would have swooned at the effort he was making.

I steeled myself against the warm feeling trying to take root in my stomach though, and instead took a seat at the counter.

"Good mornin', darlin'. You sleep well?" Malon asked softly, eyes warm and sleep dry lips pulled into a tired but inviting smile.

I nodded, before managing to speak around the lump in my throat. "Yes. Thank you for having us, Ms. Malon. I apologize for retiring early last night. The road left me quite weary. You and your husband's hospitality is most appreciated."

I noticed a spark of something glinting in Malon's dark eyes, before it was soothed down with a bright smile. "Now, now! There's no need for that, dear! You're always welcome here!"

She looked to her husband then, and when I instinctively followed her gaze, I wasn't expecting what I saw.

His jaw was clenched, betraying the- false- smoothness of his brow and relaxed curve of his ears. He was upset, but trying to reign it in and project a calm front. The lines around his eye gave him away though.

He looked hurt. Gazing into Malon's eyes with a lost expression.

What was happening?

I couldn't take it anymore. This underline tension and these confusing actions and feelings being tossed over my head. Like fists full of powder clogging my senses.

"I'm sorry, but, please." I said softly, bringing their attention back to me. My stomach rolled, but I pushed on. "I don't understand what's happening right now." I kept my eyes averted. "Please just explain it to me, so I can understand how to fix this."

Silence.

I spoke once more into that silence. Voice tight with emotion and broken, useless pride as I continued.

"I'm sorry for this tension I've caused. I meant no harm. I just want to make amends for whatever I did to offend you." I looked Time in the eyes. The first time since that fateful night we locked gazes across the fire. "I'm sorry. Tell me how to fix this. Please, Link."

The warm slide of tears escaped down my cheeks without permission, my body no longer able to hold back the immensity of my feelings. The hurt, the confusion, the desperation. The pulsing, writhing, whispering doubt that was my fear.

Fear of this man's wrath and the power he so casually holds over me, a foreign woman with no means to properly defend or support herself in this strange, unfamiliar world. Who's very survival hangs by the thin thread that is the Chain's compassion and continued favor.

Fear of his every frown and unreadable silence. Of the loyalty the boys hold for this man and his words, his influence, his command. Of how quickly he can take it all away in a moment of displeasure or offense. This warm safety net of fondness and companionship I've built myself within the soft, welcoming hearts of the boys, nothing more than delicate silk webs weaved around his fingers. Allowed purchase by the grace of his will alone.

Fear of his overwhelming strength, his unrelenting fury in the face of opposition. Of his unyielding might and unfathomable abilities beyond anything my limited understanding of this world can comprehend. The raw talent he possesses, the potential he wields, like magic weaving themselves into mortal flesh.

My shoulders begin to shake, throat closing as I hide my face in my hands, fingers wetting with tears. The weight of everything crashing down like stones upon my chest and I'm overwhelmed by the fall.

I miss my world, my home, my family, my friends. I miss my independence. I miss the security of knowing how to survive in the world around me, of being able to support myself and choose whom I give myself wholly over to.

I miss the power to live without fear of others opinions or goodwill. To stare down those who would judge and scorn me with the confidence of a woman with a full time job and the money to back up her words. Her own apartment, her own bills. A phone and heating and water and food and furry little mouths to feed.

A woman assured of herself and where she stands in the world. I woman without fear.

The woman I used to be. Not this sniveling, begging shell of a creature clinging to life by the favor of a man. Who. Hates. Her.

Eventually, the tears ran their course and I finally became aware of myself again. Arms were around me, holding me against warm muscle hidden under soft cloth as my hands twisted into their long sleeve.

"I...I'm sorry." I choked, embarrassed and struggling to breathe through blocked sinuses. "I didn't mean to...to..."

I opened my eyes.

I realized, staring at Malon's blurred face twisted in compassion from across the counter, that it wasn't her holding me.

She wasn't the one holding me.

My breath nearly hitched in anxiety, stomach dropping in the cold void of my guts. My mind reeled with confusion, a thousand thoughts swirling through my head between one breath and the next. A cold sweat broke out along the nape of my neck, along my lower back.

I'd frozen, still clutching to the sleeve between my fingers and my shoulder tucked into a chest (firm, laden with dense, lithe muscle) that could only belong to one man.

This didn't make sense. Being forced by your wife to apologize was one thing, but to actively comfort the person you resented was something else entirely. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

I felt confused, wrong-footed, relieved. But mostly, I felt stupid. Because I didn't understand a damned thing that was happening right now or what had caused this sudden shift in Time's behavior.

Then Time started speaking, and it was like the entire world began to shatter and remake itself around me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think- I didn't know-" He paused briefly, before taking a deep, fortifying breath and continuing. "I'm sorry I hurt you. That I put fear in your heart. It was never my intention. I hadn't even considered how the situation must have looked to you."

Another breath, the slightest tensing of his arms around my shoulders. "You always seem so calm and assured in everything you do. It didn't even cross my mind that you might feel vulnerable after everything that's happened to you."

My heart squeezed. All my insecurities, being laid out before me. One glance at Malon's knowing gaze and I understand where this sudden awareness must have come from.

Time continued, heedless of my newfound understanding. "I never once intended to cast you aside or let harm befall you. I care for you so dearly. Even if you had decided to reject my companionship, I'd still protect you all the same. I thought you knew that, but I was wrong. I should never have assumed you knew something I didn't tell you."

He sighed, but it sounded shaky in my ear. "I hadn't stopped to consider your feelings, before I sought to protect my own. And for that, I'm sorry."

The arms around me tightened, as though trying to impart the sincerety of his words with the action. He needn't have bothered though, because despite it all I believed every word he spoke.

If there was one thing I could always rely on, it was his honesty in matters regarding the heart. No matter how strained our friendship became, it was the one thing I knew he would not actively lie about.

But still.

"But I never did anything to you." I sniffed wetly, fingers digging into his sleeve as I fixated my gaze at the countertop where Malon's freckled hands were resting. "I don't understand why you suddenly felt the need to- escape from me." The tears wanted to come again, but I held them back. This was too important to lose focus. "Please help me understand. The fortune teller-"

Time groaned suddenly and Malon laughed with impish delight, a glint of mischief making an unexpected appearance in her eyes. The sound of Malon's laughter brought confused warmth to my chest, cutting through the thick turmoil muddying up my mind.

Awkward silence. Until Time sighed again. Deeply.

"She told me I'd find new and- passionate love."

What?

Wait, what?

I pulled away from his arms a bit, just enough to turn and peer at him through watery lashes, taking in his blurry visage. My brows pulled down and a look of disbelief no doubt found purchase on my face, mouth pressed in a tight line.

"That's it? Weeks of avoidance and radio silence because some lady in a tent said you'd get the hots for someone? And you just assumed that someone might be me?"

I couldn't believe it. All this time. Just because some lady happened to see us traveling close together and decided to play matchmaker? Really?

Of all the-

Wait a damned minute.

"Time?" I said, tone flat as I locked gazes with him. Dead serious.

He looked right back, though there was caution in his eye now along side the regret. "Yes?"

I leaned forward a bit, our already close proximity putting me squarely in his face. My could feel the spark of rightous rage taking form in my chest.

"You weren't having doubts about your marriage with Malon, were you?"

And suddenly there was no space between us, noses nearly touching, his stare so intense I almost pulled back despite still being trapped in his arms. I could feel the warm, damp spread of his breath against my lips and chin.

"No." He said with dead calm, the hard surely of his tone left no room for doubt.

"Good. Because if you were, you don't deserve her." I threw back, still giving him a hard stare.

Silence. He breaths smelled of coffee and something sweet coated over his natural scent. It made my gut twist in a not unpleasant way. It reminded me that his arms were still around me. How warm he was in the morning chill. How firm his muscles were against my hands and shoulder.

He grinned then, eye brimming with fae-like mirth as he rested his forehead against mine. It was the first time I've seen that beautiful expression in so long. My heart ached at the sight of it, warmth and sweet relief flooding into my heart like babbling spring water.

"There you are." He breathed lowly, eye closing as he leaned more into our point of contact. He inhaled deeply through his nose, shoulders relaxing. I hadn't even noticed until then just how tense they were. "I thought I'd ruined this."

"Hmm?" I hummed in question, still caught up in the rapture of seeing his smile again. Head foggy from our proximity, I felt the beginnings of fatigue settling into my bones from my earlier crying.

"My! Would ya look at that! You weren't kiddin' when ya said she had them lovin' eyes, darling!" Malon spoke up suddenly with barely contained glee, popping the bubble that seemed to exist around Time and I.

I pulled away hurriedly, realizing just how close Time and I had been. Sharing breath, foreheads resting against one another and our noses nearly bumping together. His arms around me and my body nestled into his chest. All of it completely inappropriate for the situation. Especially for being right in front of his wife!

And she sounded far too pleased with this whole thing. Like it didn't even matter that I'd just blubbered in her husband's arms and then touched my face to his like I had a right to.

The confusion was back. But this time, it pulled bright, sweet warmth to my cheeks as I stumbled to my feet. The gentle wink of butterfly wings swirled around in my stomach and Malon's delighted smirk only intensified the sensation, sending the flock up into my throat.

I needed to get away. I needed to think.

"I-I accept your apology, Time!" I stuttered out embarrassedly, fighting the blush I knew was trying to heat my face. "I hope we can talk more later, but I'd like time to think about what you said!" I explained a bit too loudly even to my own ears, nearly wincing at my own awkwardness.

Malon, having come from behind the counter, leaned against her husband's back, hands on his shoulders. She smiled sweetly, a complimentary expression to Time's amused grin. Both of them were haloed by the sun shining softly through the window behind them, like a Goddamned magazine cover.

Goodness, but do they make a beautiful couple.

No. Stay focused. Escape first and then figure out what the Hell is happening. Get yourself together.

"Have a good day, Time, Malon!" Time's lip twitched upward. My stomach squeezed. "Okay! Bye for now."

Then, I all but ran from the kitchen, leaving behind what may have been the last of my dignity. Behind me, Malon's sweet laughter chased me down the hall, alighting my face with hellfire.

And therein began my first official day at Lon Lon Ranch.

---

Because of the limited perspective of first person narrative, a lot of the finer details are implied rather then stated. So if something seems out of left field, it's because the OC herself didn't realize what was happening behind the scenes.

Now I must return to the shadows to rest.

#Linked Universe #Time x OC x Malon #Time x Malon #lu time #lu malon #Linked Universe x OC

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 17 days

Note

Can you tell me why you like Lan Xichen, if that doesn't bother you?

I know why the fandom at large like him, but I disagree very hard with the "N°1 Wangxian shipper, best wingman, the only person in this cast that has eyes" thing they've got going on because all of this is directly contradicted by canon, and I'm just not a fan of blissfully ignorant characters that are fine with staying blind to the faults of others depending on how convenient it is for them.

I may be exaggerating a bit, but his "You were his only mistake" speech while advocating and protecting and giving the benefit of the doubt to Jin Guangyao made me a little bit salty, and the implications as to how he participated/supported the siege and Lan Wangji's punishment didn't really help.

I usually enjoy your takes and often agree with you, so I figured I'd ask, maybe you'd provide some insight in his character that I missed?

Hello anon,

I think part of this does simply come down to personally what type of person I myself am able to tolerate and want to see the potential of capability and being better. I do agree on with Wei Wuxian as he observes Lan Xichen's faith in Jin Guangyao, is that he unlike him was able to interact with memories of Nie Mingjue and the only reason he himself was able to believe that Jin Guangyao wasn't what he presented as. Lan Xichen isn't presented as a character to despise even in his ignorance which yes, is a factor of his one comfortable position, yet he is a kind simple man.

Simple kind men, are not meant to be politicians and should not be as they are easily manipulated. Yet the people that Wei Wuxian commends and listens to are simple, kind people. He understands very well where Lan Xichen himself comes from as a party close to Jin Guangyao and as an outside party to Wei Wuxian. They don't know each other, Wei Wuxian also is not a grudge holding person for slights against himself because they are wrong. Why would he himself care for what is not true? He knows who and what he is, whether it's liked by outsiders or not. He knows how to work with either reaction and is not sensitive to what is said about him, he also doesn't need others to take up that mantel in his stead, what he appreciates is those that trust in him as he is to support that.

Wei Wuxian also understands the casual misunderstandings perpetuated, some of which he did continue once he came back and hid for a time as Mo Xuanyu. He didn't think his unconscious love from when he was you g would reawaken, he WAS fucking around to disgust Lan Wangji to abandon him. He did not expect Lan Wangji to be caring and as loving as he was because the man hadn't so openly been anything like that in their youth.

Lan Xichen had the privilege of knowing this about Lan Wangji, hence his protectiveness and assumptions. While Wei Wuxian did not. It's a case of great misunderstanding on part of what Lan Xichen knew against what Wei Wuxian knows. As the audience we DO have a greater privilege than either of them because we get insights into both's actions and thoughts the other has no idea of. They are outside observers of the other.

Do I think Lan Xichen held a grudge towards Wei Wuxian either? No, but he was weary of Wei Wuxian's intentions to his brother given the outside view he had of them. Subconsciously yes we see that Wei Wuxian greatly loves Lan Wangji, but that is not apparent for Lan Xichen given the history he had seen. He had at one point thought a friendship with Wei Wuxian would be good for Lan Wangji who didn't ever seek companions, yet the only thing he was seeing and told was the hurt and struggle Lan Wangji struggled with. He had no investment or friendship with Wei Wuxian to think of other context.

Wei Wuxian also gets this, it is why he is terrified of the potential hurt Lan Wangji had been put through unintentionally because of himself and the assumptions of outsiders as well that influenced both of their hesitance to be open of their growing feelings, trust and love.

We all want to think of the best in those close to us. Wei Wuxian understands how that becomes so natural to the point of blinding yourself to the worst. It is what he did when it came to Jiang Cheng who continued to escalate his hate and actions towards Wei Wuxian who gave Jiang Cheng the benefit of doubt until he no longer could. And it is what Lan Xichen is faced with when it comes to the whole of Jin Guangyao's crimes exposed. Wei Wuxian was the perpetual stain and hurt for Jiang Cheng and did take the blame Jiang Cheng put upon him while reasoning with himself that Jiang Cheng had such a right and what good would it do for him to complain.

Lan Xichen trapped himself in the blindness of wanting Jin Guangyao to be reasonable in his choices in a very unfair world that condemned his class. He did know that Lan Wangji loved Wei Wuxian, he was weary of that love due to not knowing the whole. And why at the end he is disgusted, horrified, hurt in his own self snd yes embarrassed with his stubborn assumptions and blindness. He is not proud of that and what he is torn up over at the end. It's not the great tragic friendship he supposedly lost, it is his own stubbornness and ignorance he let overcome him and what he allowed to go on for too long. He is forced to see his one sided idea of Wei Wuxian was wrong, he has no hate over that, he to a point had seen Wei Wuxian as an influence for Lan Wangji to open up, yet lost his own faith in that due to his assumed biases.

He to a fault is coddling to the point of it being offensively infantilizing to Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian understands the why of this and also is completely logical in understanding as to why Lan Xixchen thinks as such. He thinks Lan Xichen is a good man, because he is, whether we the audience like it or not in the logic of their world Wei Wuxian understands the mechanism of Lan Wangji's punishment as well and the cruelty it was for the society they are stuck in that is slow to change. Simple kind men are not made to be in a world of intricacy and conspiracy because it is more complicated than they know. Good intentions and offer of protection is dangerous when you have not been exposed to cruelty that can personally hurt you and take advantage of you when you are ignorant to the extent of the backlash.

I think this is also why Wei Wuxian in the end does respect Lan Xichen he had been there as well. He can't condemn something that he had been a part of at one point and had been taken advantage himself by multiple others.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #wei wuxian #also wei Wuxian doesn't want sanctimonious speeches in defense of himself #he would like support nothing more than knowing someone else understands him #he doesn't crave the world to want him #only those that are able to and want to understand him effortlessly

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alexanderlightweight · 9 months

Note

May I humbly request more manipulation is rehab? :)

here we go, hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

(no explicit sex but there is heavy flirting and nudity because alec gets his bath)

“Are you sure you’re okay, me being in your personal space like that?”

Magnus blinks, shocked at the very fact that this is something Alexander considered a worthwhile worry. While sweet and something Magnus would normally appreciate, it’s irrelevant when there is nothing Magnus wishes to do more than share his personal space until the line between his own and Alexander’s blurs into nothingness.

It’s a risk — and risks involving Alexander are something Magnus is loath to take — but he’s already manipulated so much of tonight that he wants to take this small risk, for Alexander.

“Why should it matter if you’re in the depth of my lair, Alexander?” Magnus asks, voice carefully casual but eyes dark with sincerity as he looks into Alec’s own languid, hazel eyes. “When you’re already in my heart, something infinitely more intimate?”

Alexander’s eyes go wide, an almost tortured look of awe and hope clash across his face and his hands are strong as he reaches out to hold Magnus’ shoulders but his voice wavers.

“Magnus?”

The hope in Alexander nearly breaks Magnus, because this is not a man who thinks himself capable of truly being adored and loved. This is a man who hopes — and if that hope is broken it will break him in return. Alexander lacks confidence in the depths of Magnus’ affections but he doesn’t lack trust in Magnus’ himself.

That much is very clear.

“Come lovely,” Magnus says and he opens his room with a wave of his fingers, pulling Alexander through the door and letting magic spark through the room with little golden orbs of light. “My room is and bath are the least of what I'd allow you. Let me take care of you.”

Trust me.

Magnus is asking and Alexander does, the hope and awe never wavering as he steps into the bathroom Magnus specifically designed with him in mind. The tub is large enough for two, but that’s not the point of tonight. It’s circular and with a sunken seat that slopes and filled with the eucalyptus salts that Cat promised him.

Between the salts and the candles, the scent is head and fragrant and Alec melts into Magnus’ touch. There is a moment where Magnus almost offers to leave — or offers to use his magic — but Alexander needs grounding and well, so does Magnus.

He undresses his hunter with tender, soft motions even as hot, mineral moonwater continues to splash into the deep tub. Magical plumbing is a delight and Magnus has never appreciated it more than now — when he slides off Alexander’s shirt and reveals a motley of bruises on his shoulder.

Magnus doesn’t ask what caused it, only presses a kiss to the bruise and imbues it with numbing and healing magic. Some of the bruises on Alexander’s body are undoubtedly from his normal patrol, but Magnus treats every single scuff and hurt as if it were caused by his own machinations.

Magic erases every injury it can find until Magnus slowly slides to his knees and smirks as he vanishes Alexander’s shoes and socks. Alexander blinks at him, cheeks pink and asking to be nipped and then he nods, something settling in him as he surrenders this last bit of his care to Magnus.

Magnus is gentle, careful as he unzips Alexander and slides down his pants.

The skintight underwear is uniquely designed and Magnus grazes his fingers lightly over the thickly padded front, tapping his knuckles gently but curiously.

“Groin protection,” Alexander tells him. There is clear humor in his voice and sure enough — when Magnus looks up at him — his gaze is teasing and fond. “All hunters on patrol are required to wear forms of it.”

“More logical than I’m used to from shadowhunters.” Magnus teases and Alexander rolls his eyes, lips curling in a smirk because while he won’t outright admit it, they both know it’s true. “Well, as much as I am enjoying this introduction to the intimacies of shadowhunter fashion. There’s a bath to be had.”

Magnus winks then, tapping glossy nails over where Alexander’s precious cock is cleverly kept safe and then lets his nails drags down skin as he slides the fabric down.

His boy’s gaze is heavy and yearning and Magnus lets himself have one more touch, his hands cupping Alexander’s hips.

Hands are cupping Magnus’ elbows and he’s been hauled up — relishing the strength in Alexander’s arms — and Alexander whines not having realizes that with Magnus refusing to let go of his hips. He was unaware that Magnus’ clothes and body would be teasingly dragged up his body, as close as a kiss.

Alexander is panting harshly by the time Magnus is up and steady on his own feet. It’s delicious and the sweetest symphony Magnus has heard in an age.

“Sweetheart,” Magnus croons tenderly and presses the endearment to the corner of Alexander’s slack mouth, “you need a bath.” He lets himself reach around and sighs as his hands settle on the lean, firm muscle of his boy’s ass. It’s deliciously tempting and Magnus indulges in how the flesh kneads beneath his palms and the way Alexander stutters forward, somehow grinding even closer to Magnus. “A bath—” Magnus says again, firmer this time even as his grip tightens.

Like he isn’t the one keeping Alexander from obeying.

Magnus hadn’t planned for any of this thought and while he’s gotten closer to Alexander than he ever expected tonight — and certainly far faster than he’d could have imagined — he still has a plan.

Magnus’ goal hasn’t changed, if anything the importance has intensified.

Alec steps into the bath with a lingering of his skin under Magnus’ hands and then he hisses, head tilting back as he slowly submerges into the pale green water.

Magnus summons a cup of tea to the rim of the bathtub and then sits himself, shirt unbuttoned halfway and sleeves rolled to his elbows. He sees the way Alexander’s gaze lingers on his biceps and he has to bite back as a smirk as he trails his fingers through the water to test the warmth.

Originally, Magnus had intended to give Alexander his privacy unless otherwise asked, but it seems he is effortlessly allowed this.

Alexander looks hauntingly beautiful.

Wane and worn with exhaustion and eyes half-lidded, only opening so he can look to Magnus, as if constantly reassuring himself that Magnus is still there.

As if Magnus could ever bring himself to leave.

magnus: alexander you are temptation incarnate and my self-control has its limits darling

alec: what is self-control? i've never heard of her?

(alec a day before lecturing his insitutte on self-control)

maryse: downworlders are slaves to their impulses

alec: i fucking wish that were true. maybe he'd stop being such a gentleman, but no. he controls his impulses just fine. thanks mom, you set my expectations up so high. but no. impulses are a slave to magnus' will.

cat & ragnor: ... oh he is smitten, wow.

magnus pretending to buff his nails: i don't know what you two are talking about

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #manipulation is rehab #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec

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dollygirl808 · 4 months

Text

Spoiled Rotten! Ch. 2 (Zombie Yandere

Masterlist

MDNI 🔞

Half! Zombie/Zombie Hybrid Yandere Simon "Ghost" Riley x Original Female Character (Freya)

The emergency alarm system that was dotted around the safezone was what woke her up, the sound of chaos and pandemonium going on around her outside.

Freya panicked, adrenaline borderline slapping her in the face and waking her up in seconds, the covers were thrown off her and she raced to pull on her much more protective jeans. After getting dressed, she rushed to Jake's room to wake him up up, not sure how the man hadn't already woken up, when she saw that it was empty.

Moving to the front door, she saw his panic bag was gone and even though he had abandoned her without so much as attempting to wake her up, at least he had the decency to lock the door on his way out so no one could get in. At least, not without alerting her.

Huffing, feeling rather annoyed at the whole thing, she went back to the bedroom to gather her things at a much more leisurely pace. No reason to rush out the door now with mass panic, It'd only be out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.

So, she collected everything that was useful that she could carry and packed it up, taking her time and being thorough. Sat on her bed behind a locked door, she started whistling periodically, and waited.

Ghost would be along soon enough, he was never far away, and appeared at her side much quicker when she was in danger.

Even though she really shouldn't have, she couldn't help but take a little nap to wait for him. How long could he really take, anyways? She'd probably be woken up in the next ten minutes by the sound of him banging on the front door downstairs and whistling back urgently. So, she closed her eyes and let herself drift of just for a few moments.

---

Instead of Ghost's gentle whistling and nudging her, she woke up to the sight of a large gun in her face, making her panic (again) and pull out the knife she kept under her pillow and point it at them, eyes wide with fear.

"Woah there lass," The man said in a strange accent she didn't recognize, holding up a placating hand and lowering his gun.

The other three men in the room still had their guns trained on her, though. "You're- military?" She questioned, brown eyes flicking between the three men in the bedroom clad in dark clothing and bulletproof vests.

"What's left of it. I'm Captain John Price," The mustached man said, stepping forward with his hand out and his gun lowered.

Freya took a calming breath and tucked her knife into her back pocket, then shook his hand, "Freya. What time is it?"

"About 4 am, probably," The first man shrugged, blue eyes glancing out at the sky through the window.

"Shit," She let out a quiet curse, and rushed to the window, throwing it open and letting out a low, slightly panicked whistle into the night air. A few zombies on the street below groaned and tilted their heads up at her, but couldn't pose a threat from a story below them even if they wanted to.

After waiting a few seconds without any response, she let out a breath. "Ok, good. He's not close by yet. Must really be chaos down there if he's still so far away," She huffed out, relaxing her shoulders.

"Who?" The dark-skinned man asked curiously.

"Uh- my friend," She hesitated, not sure if she should really trust these men, but then again she didn't have much of a choice at the moment, "He's a hybrid. Like, half zombie? And I'm his person. He'd really freak if he came in here and saw you guys pointing guns at me. You shouldn't threaten me in front of him if you want to live- I'd probably be a better idea if I greeted him first, he takes my safety very seriously and we just had a little.. incident with that."

"Sorry, wait, his person?" The Captain asked, "What do you mean?"

Freya blinked at him, "You know, like the thing that's keeping him human. I'm that thing."

"Hybrids can attatch to people? I thought they couldn't?" The accented man asked, one hand on his hip as he lowered his gun to the floor.

She just shrugged, unsure. "He also used to be military, before this I think," unconsciously, her fingers touched the dog tags under her shirt, "He doesn't like to talk about it much. But you guys might get along? Just don't stand to close to me if you want to live."

John's face hardened into a frown, "I'd be best if you'd stop threatening us, love," He told her like a father scolding his kid.

"I'm not threatening you, I'm just telling you how it is, you guys seem ok, so I'm trying to help you-" The sound of a whistle cut through the air and cut her off, sharp and loud, coming from the front door.

"That's him," She perked up instantly, moving to exit the bedroom, "Er.. you guys should stay here... Please?" She tacked on that last ask as they gave her strange looks, but ignored it as she turned her back and hopped down the stairs, whistling back to him low and fast, reassuring that she was ok.

"Si-!" She unlocked the door, glancing behind him at a few zombies who shrunk away from his aggressive growls with low whines, "Hey."

He grunted in response, closing and locking the door behind him after stepping in, pulling her into a hug. "Spoiled fuckin' brat," He huffed out, words teasing although filled with relief.

"What'dya call out for me for? Get scared of the dark?" He asked as he pulled away, looking down at her.

"No, Si, there's some guys here. They said they're military, and I got a little spooked when I woke up to some random guys face and not your mask. They're cool, I think." She told him quickly, eyes glancing up at the sounds of the old floorboards creaking at the same time his did.

Of course, Ghost had smelled the three men long before he had seen them, knew they were there before he even stepped into the house, but as long as she was safe he didn't care.

But now, things were different.

"Lt?!" The first man called out, wide smile on his face, "Cap'n! It's Ghost!"

John was the second one to come out of the bedroom, face full of hard skepticism, the kind you gain after spending years as a captain in the military, and then spending years in the apocalypse, but the expression melted away into one of soft disbelief, eyebrows raising, small smile on his face as he took in the familiar mask.

The dark-skinned man followed after his Captain, a gun slung around his back as his hazel eyes flicked back and forth between his old teammate and the new girl. "Bloodly hell," He huffed out, unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Knew ya still had ta be kickin' around somwhere, Lt!" The first man laughed, hopping down the stairs two at a time to greet his lieutenant.

"Easy, Johnny," Ghost warned him, wrapping his arms protectively around Freya.

"Aw c'mon! I 'avent seen ya in two years an' I can't get a hug?" Johnny asked as he reached the bottom of the stairs and walked closer.

Only when the man let out a possessive, nearly feral snarl in his direction did the man stop, pausing mid-step to look at the two, Freya giving him an apologetic smile, and Ghost wrapped around her, pulling her into his body, teeth barred behind his mask. He did trust his former Sargent, he did. But he was close, too close to what was his.

"Easy Mactavish," John repeated the man's words from earlier as he made his way down the stairs next, setting a hand on the Sargent's shoulder. "You've read about hybrids before, met a few. Ya'know how they are. Give him some time to relax and trust us again. It has been two years after all." He told them all.

Johnny nodded, understanding, gave him a low, "Yes sir," in response, but she could see how much it hurt to be regarded as a threat by Simon.

Freya felt bad for them all, and although she knew it wasn't actually her fault, she couldn't help but feel like a direct cause of the tension in the air.

So, she broke away from his hold when he loosened it, and slipped between the two surprised men as she made her way to the living room.

"Come on, don't you guys wanna talk?" She called over her shoulder, positioning herself in a nice safe corner, easily defensible, but with an easy escape route back to the front door if needed.

Simon chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to be infront of her, but still kept her in his eyesight, a position where he could interact with his team without feeling threatened by their proximity to his person.

The other men followed, mixture of surprise and impressed by just how well she knew their lieutenant. Once deemed safe, Johnny gave the taller man a wide boyish grin and pulled him into a hug, rocking them back and forth like a long-lost lover before being pushed off with low snicker and an eye roll.

Gaz greeted him next, a firm handshake and a pat on the back, telling him it was nice to see him again.

Both Simon and the Captain were not one for showy pleasantries, so the John just gave him a firm couple of pats on his shoulder with a few words, "Good to have you back Ghost."

"Good to be back Captain," He nodded, which prompted Johnny to ask how it had all happened, how he ended up bitten, why he left.

It happened two years ago, obviously. They were on their way back from a failed rescue mission of civilians when a zombie reached out and bit his ankle. He hadn't worn his boots that day, so it had bit right through his cargo pants and infected him. He shot it, and went with them back to base, only making up an excuse just before they crossed the gate that he forgot something, and leaving on foot to make sure he didn't put his team in danger.

After four days of being holed up in an abandoned house, he didn't turn. It was only then that he realized he wasn't human anymore. He was something more now, or perhaps something less. He spent a week at base with them, but he was withdrawn, unsure of his ability to accidentally infect his team, or how long he'd be able to control his urges. He grew hungry, and angry, and it became harder and harder to control himself.

After an incident where he nearly killed a fellow soldier, Simon left. He couldn't stick around knowing he might put the lives of his team mates at risk, so he left. It only took him a few days to stumble apon Freya, and ended up saving her from some men who were attempting to rape her. He killed them, and ate them.

All three grimaced at hearing that. They knew hybrids had to eat, but hearing it directly from Ghost that he ate a human was a hard thing to hear. Freya rubbed his back comfortingly, and joked that they hadn't even gone to the part where he stalked her for a month before she confronted him.

Gaz asked him what happened that made her 'your person', and he shrugged, doing his best to explain the surge of protectiveness he suddenly felt, the urge to be around her constantly, the jealous and possessive feelings he gets when others get too close.

His brain needed something to latch onto, someone he could protect to justify the monster that he was. A reason to kill other people. What better than a young girl in trouble?

His instincts told him to protect her, from any potential threat.

"Don't let her appearance fool you, she's a right spoiled brat," Ghost told them, chuckling when she slapped his back.

"And who's fault is that Si?" She sassed, looking up at him with her hand on her hip, "It's not like I've been out here spoiling myself for the past two years."

"Aye, lass' got a fair point, Lt," Johnny grinned, and Ghost glared at him.

Suddenly, the sound of someone frantically knocking on the front door stopped them all in their tracks, all heads turning to look at the front door, the doorhandle being jiggled.

Ghost inhaled sharply, body tense as he caught a familiar scent. Immediately, Freya noticed the change, something she had seen plenty of times before. Something predatory, something possessive, something deadly.

His feet are moving before she can even reach a hand out to stop him, and she can just barely hear the low growl in his chest as he stalked towards the door.

"Freya, thank god-!" Jake breathed out, relieved as he stumbled through the door after Ghost had yanked it open, only to look up in fear, down the barrel of a gun.

---

Taglist : @cringeycookies

#Spoiled Rotten!COD #Zombie!Yandere!Ghost #zombie!ghost #half zombie half human #smut #cod smut #zombie au #zombie hybid #zombie apocalypse #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x oc #simon riley

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childotkw · 1 year

Note

Ok so, we know what daemon thinks of future lucemond but what about rhaenyra or jaecyres or rhaenys or corlys??

And what is Otto hightower planning to do with the new piece on the chessboard??

For Rhaenyra, I'd say she's initially against it because Aemond scares her where Lucerys is involved. She does not want any version of her psychotic little brother near any version her precious son. But in this, I think older!Lucerys would actually be the one to convince her otherwise. He'd meet with her privately, under the guise of spending time together, and then halfway though drinking their tea he'd just be like "mother I love you and would fight a war for you if you asked, but if you try to come between me and Aemond I will burn the world" and Rhaenyra is unfortunately confronted with the fact that her son is just like her and is just as willing to throw everything away to keep what he wants. She looks at them differently after that, no longer judging them based on a childhood accident but instead as her and Daemon come again. And she finds her protests diminishing.

Jace takes a little longer to come to terms with it. He's not used to his protection not being needed when it comes to his siblings. But this Lucerys is older than him, and he lost his Jace long ago and had had to grow up on battlefields. He doesn't need to be coddle, doesn't look to hide behind Jace when he's overwhelmed - no. Instead, the one his eyes drift to, the one he seeks assurance from, the one he trusts at his back is Aemond. And Jace has to learn to deal with his now-older brother putting Aemond first. There's a lot of jealousy there for him, and he'd probably get more annoyed at the younger Lucerys because his anger is transferring. It would take older!Lucerys smacking him upside the head and calling him on his shit before he realised he was hurting both versions of his brother.

Rhaenys and Corlys would be a bit different.

Corlys would, naturally, be ecstatic to hear that in the future Lucerys becomes a fine sailor, warrior and tactician. He'd have concerns around Aemond and Lucerys relationship, but he'd probably be the first one to trust that older!Lucerys knew what he was doing. He'd also look at older!Aemond and be struck with how similar Corlys and him are in regards to how they look at their partner. He'd recognise the love there, and respect it.

Rhaenys would keep her opinion to herself, largely. She'd watch, studying and seeking to understand. I see her interest being more in everything that led up to Aemond and Lucerys being the only two to survive the civil war between their family. She'd want to know how everyone else died and how they can stop it from happening again. I suppose a small part of her would be glad that this Lucerys, who is so very broken and angry beneath his smiles and irreverent attitude, found even a glimmer of happiness - even if it was in his unhinged uncle.

And Otto. Oh boy oh boy. The man isn't pleased at all. He sees this older!Aemond as the second coming of Daemon and older!Lucerys as another Rhaenyra - wilful and wanton and uncontrollable. And he's pissed about it. The fact that these two also seem to know all of his plans (which makes sense, obviously, since Aemond would have been right beside him when they enacted everything) is just extra salt in the wound. Older!Lucerys is the apple of Viserys' eye at the moment, and his clear love and affection with Aemond makes the old king warm and overwhelmed with hope that the division between their two families can be mended. The fact that older!Lucerys is clearly holding his future knowledge over Otto's head, leaving him wrong-footed that at any moment, they could reveal to Viserys all that Otto had planned and he could lose his head - it makes him reckless and agitated, and Lucerys and Aemond absolutely enjoy his paranoia while they subtly undermine everything Otto tries to do.

#anonymous #HOTD #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond #time travel

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smurphyse · 2 years

Text

Monster Killer

Smurph's Masterlist

Part 4 of Mutual Irritation

Warnings: Depictions of domestic violence, fear

Summary: You remember a night when Lauren promised to protect you. Later, you show Spencer the First Editions from your shipment

You winced as Lauren pressed a hand towel wrapped up with ice against your cheek. She made a sympathetic noise while she held you still by your jaw.

"Where else did he hit you?" she asked quietly.

Sitting on the edge of the large bathtub in the suite you shared with Finn, you shivered and sniffled in shame. For the last two months you'd been confined to the suite, Finn being your only company, but after this last round of anger he'd had her come patch you up.

"I'm okay."

"That's not what I asked," Lauren muttered, releasing you. You curled up on the side of the tub, pulling your knees to your chest as you tried to hold back tears while she filled it with bubbles and hot water.

Since being brought back to Italy six months ago, Finn kept you confined either to the suite or the compound. After a particularly bad night when he decided one of Ian's henchmen was paying too much attention to you, he'd flown off the handle and hurt you pretty badly.

Lauren was brought in again to clean you up and make sure you weren't in need of a hospital, and since then you were kept to the corridor of rooms, left to wander and gaze longingly out the windows while you tried to keep your sanity intact.

Tonight Finn came home drunk and probably high on something, the scent of other women's perfume and whatever bar they had gone to wafting from him. He'd found you bored and playing with makeup to pass the time in lieu of reading for once, and completely lost it.

"You plannin' on goin' somewhere, bunny?" he asked dangerously when he caught you perched on the vanity seat fanning out some eyeshadow.

"N-no," you'd insisted, your eyes going wide and fearful, "I was just messing around with it, baby."

His fist had flashed out before you really knew what hit you, and by this point you really should have known better… or at least known it was coming. It rained down again and again as you were pushed into the vanity table, makeup brushes and luxury bottles of foundation and perfume clattering along the glass surface.

You woke up sometime later in the bed, with Finn standing at the end while Lauren checked you over. His fists were bloody and his knuckles cracked, your face already achingly swollen and sore.

"One of these days you won't live like this anymore," Lauren whispered, testing the filled water with her hands and fluffing up the bubbles. "Just hang on for me, okay?"

You watched her warily, unsure and paranoid. Finn told you all the time he was always watching, he even knew you well enough to know what you were thinking. You couldn't trust Lauren… could you?

Was she really going to save you? Or was she just tricking you, getting you to let your guard down so that Finn could play another one of his cruel games?

The heavy clomp of military style boots made you turn to look at the door. Finn leaned against the frame, smiling sheepishly at you and holding a familiar gold box.

When he smiled like that, it almost, almost made you love him again. He looked like the man you fell in love with when he smiled like that, not the man who beat you unconscious and kept you prisoner in an Italian castle.

"I'm sorry, bunny, I don't know what came over me," he insisted, but Lauren suddenly was standing in front of you, guarding you with her body.

Her strong jaw was set in place as she stared down a monster while you watched in awe, your gaze flicking between the two of them as if waiting for a storm to break.

"She can't take any more anytime soon," Lauren grunted, her voice steady and firm. "You'll kill her if you keep going like this."

"I'd never hurt my bunny, would I, sweet girl?" he asked dangerously, his head cocking to the side.

A jolt of fear ran through you, and you wanted to cling to the back of Lauren's shirt and let her protect you, but you knew it would just end with more bruises or worse.

You stood shakily and went over to him, rounding Lauren and avoiding her gaze. You smoothed your palms up Finn's chest and gave him a sweet kiss, ignoring the impulse to recoil and hide.

"Of course you wouldn't. I should have asked permission," you smiled as you pulled away, feeling better when he smiled back.

"I got you something," he said softly. He handed you the box and moved you so he could press his chest to your back, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder.

You felt Lauren's eyes on you as you shakily opened the box, letting out a gasp of surprise. He always got you presents after he hurt you, sometimes even when he didn't, and they were always luxurious and beautiful.

Nestled in a bed of satin sat a pair of gold Louboutin stilettos, perfectly made to fit you, all to Finn's specifications for what he wanted you to wear.

You turned so your cheek pressed against his and smiled, "They're stunning, baby, thank you."

"Anything for my perfect little bunny," he chuckled happily, and he kissed your cheek. Finn looked up at Lauren and glowered, "You can go, I think my girl and I could use a little alone time."

Lauren said nothing, just glared at him as she walked past. She was just at the door when he called, "Shut the door behind you."

Finn led you to the tub without a backward glance, gripping your wrist tightly and tugging you over. You couldn't help but look back at Lauren, who stood watching sadly with her hand on the door handle.

She sighed and raised her brows, as if to say remember what I said, then shut the door behind her as she left. The latch clicked shut with a thunderous crack, leaving you alone in a room with a monster.

You let him undress you, doing your best to still your shivering and quell the tears that threatened to spill.

Just hang on for me, okay?

You weren't sure what to think, what to let yourself believe was true. But as Finn lifted you into the tub and cradled you against his large chest, his often harsh hands rubbing soft lines up your bruised and beaten back, you decided if anything, you could do that.

You could hang on for Lauren.

---------------

After an uncomfortable breakfast, you washed the dishes while Spencer sat at the island, glaring at your Manolo Blahniks like they were telling him government secrets. Men just didn’t understand the relationship some women had with their heels, but the way his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline when you’d told him how much they were worth made you smile a bit on the inside.

That was one of the things that had been great about Finn. Before he changed into a monster, he had listened sweetly while you rambled on about the importance of a good heel, the distance from the body of the shoe to the heel itself, the materials and how they made all the difference in comfortability. After that, each pair of shoes he got you was made exactly to your preferences.

As horrible as Finn became, he listened to your every word, cataloged your interests so that he could use them against you whenever he hurt you. He used them to make you tentatively forgive him, to show your naive heart that he was the only one who knew you like that and the only one who would ever care to.

You were so young. You didn’t realize what he was setting you up for until it was too late.

Spencer followed you quietly as you went back upstairs to change your shoes, opting this time for a pair of black platform booties with a chunky heel in case he decided to become a brick wall for you to run into again.

The doorbell rang as you were descending the staircase, Maurice waving at you through the double doors at the front of the shop. The store didn't open until nine, but he knew you liked to have some time to sift through the new books before unlocking the doors so he came early when you asked.

You went straight for the door with a wave, but Spencer quickly weaved around you and reached it first.

"What part of I go first, do you not understand?" he asked quietly before he opened the door. You made a face at him and stuck out your tongue and he rolled his eyes, "Real mature."

"Hey Miss Winters," Maurice grinned at you as Spencer opened the door. He stuck out his hand for Spencer, "Maurice, nice to meet you."

Spencer didn't take his hand, instead nodding and saying, "Spencer."

Maurice nodded awkwardly and you shrugged when he caught your eye. Spencer stepped aside so he could roll a dolly inside, the sealed box of first editions resting on top.

"You know where to go, Moe," you smiled, waving toward the back of the shop. You locked the door behind him and he went off toward the study library.

Spencer made sure to walk in front of you as you followed Maurice to the back room, his gaze flicking from Maurice to you out of the corner of his eye. His strong back was held ramrod straight, defensive and imposing as you cautiously followed.

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend, Miss Winters," Maurice said as you entered the library. He unloaded the box onto a table with his stocky arms, turning to you and Spencer and wiping his hands on his work pants.

"I'm not her boyfriend," Spencer grumbled, but you caught the way he watched the box with hardly disguised excitement.

"Spencer's a friend from college," you lied smoothly. Back when you first ran from Finn it was hard for you to tell lies, but after eleven years it had become as easy as breathing. "He's getting divorced, so he's sleeping on my couch."

"Oh, tough break, man," Maurice sighed sympathetically, giving Spencer a sad look while he glared at you. "Went through that myself, it's a hard place to be, but once you sign those papers things get a bit easier."

"Uh. Thanks, man," Spencer grunted, looking a bit put out as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

Maurice held a clipboard out for you, and you signed your fake name in the smooth script of a liar, Elizabeth Winters, and handed it back. You and Spencer led him back out the front with his now empty dolly and waved goodbye. Spencer locked the door and turned on his heel to head back to the restricted area you kept these sorts of things in.

He strode quickly, his fists clenching and unclenching in his excitement to get back to the box. It made you chuckle quietly, and he turned enough to flash you a look.

"What?"

"Nothing," you said with a smile. "It's just, you're grumpy magoo about everything but books. Don't you like anything else?"

Spencer entered the restricted area and shrugged, "Books are forever. They don't change."

You laughed, pointing at the box, "I'm about to prove you wrong, Doctor."

"You can call me Spencer, you know," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. He said it cautiously, though, as if you calling him that might bother you.

You nodded and headed over to one of the bureaus in the corner. The whole room smelled like glue and paper, a byproduct of what it was used for. You pulled open a drawer and lifted a heavy crowbar from inside and went back to the box.

Spencer held out his hand expectantly for the tool, but you waved it at him, "I can open a box, Spencer."

Spencer scoffed, "You can't even walk through a doorway without breaking a heel."

Your playfulness washed away, the dreaded memory of him ruining one of your favorite pairs of shoes surfacing once more. In lieu of an answer you shoved one end of the crowbar under the lid and pushed it down. The nails cracked the wood as it popped open, and you flashed Spencer a cat's grin.

"Fuck you," you muttered as you pulled the lid off, careful not to snap one of your nails.

Spencer leaned over the box to peek inside but you swatted at him. Snatching a pair of latex gloves, you handed them to him and put on a pair for yourself.

"These books are sent to me every month or so from museums. They're pretty much in tatters but most of them are first editions," you began, deciding to treat him like a novice as you pulled out a book from the top.

His eyes lit up as he read the title, War and Peace. It was in the original Russian, the leather cover frayed and damaged with water stains.

"Oh, wow," he marveled, reaching out to touch it. You pulled the book away and glared pointedly at him.

"The only reason you are here right now is because I can't leave your sight," you grumbled, holding the book protectively. "Normally, I do this alone because these are worth more money than God. You don't touch anything unless I tell you to."

Spencer let out a small whine and watched with a pout as you set the book on the plastic covered surface, but he didn't move to touch it again. He simply plopped down in the chair next to you and watched as you assessed the damage to the volume.

After a while, he spoke up, leaning on one fist and looking bored out of his mind, "Can you at least tell me what you're looking for?"

You were halfway through your inspection, but you carefully closed the book and went back to the beginning. At least this way you wouldn't be sitting in awkward silence.

"There are certain things you look for when deciding what parts of a book you can restore. This is the original cover, so I don't want to get rid of it. It needs to be removed from the pages though, there's some mold forming in the center of the binding."

You pointed at where the paper met the hard backing with a gloved hand. A thick green sponge was forming, and he didn't hold back his grimace.

"I'm going to clean the pages, use some document tape to heal the tears," you said, nearly trailing off.

His cologne washed over you, a delightful mix of sage and cinnamon musk as he leaned closer to look at what you were talking about. He glanced up at you when you stopped talking, his eyes open and soft for once.

"Uhm," you muttered. You licked your lips and cleared your throat before you began again, "The leather isn't dry rotted, but it's fading. I'll condition it and touch up the dye before I reattach it to the pages."

"How do you take the cover off without ruining the binding?" he asked quietly, watching intently where you pointed.

"I'll remove the hemp cords under the surface of the leather," you told him, pointing at the risen surface where the cords held the cover sections together. "Hemp is a very old method of binding leather, but it's also why books need rebound. It wears out. I have a woven rayon that I'll use in place to attach the hinge cloth under the leather."

"Amazing," he marveled, looking at the book as if he could see the potential it had. "How did you learn this?"

Spencer leaned back in his chair and caught your eye, for once actually looking happy to be in the same room as you. You closed the book and shrugged.

"I was going to school for classical literature and one of my professors restored books for the local museum. I showed an aptitude, so he asked if I wanted to go to Italy to learn from his teacher and I said yes."

Spencer's face fell, that familiar grimness settling deep in his frown, "And then you met Finn."

You nodded, shrugging again like it was no big deal, "Ian wanted to restore a copy of the Geneva Bible."

"First published in 1560. It was the first Bible brought to America by the pilgrims," Spencer breathed, smiling to himself. "You got to touch one?"

You smiled, "It was a third edition. I didn't know them, but he'd stolen it from some Protestants and wanted to sell it."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "He was an asshole. Good riddance."

His tone shocked you, his blatant hatred for someone you yourself loathed and feared. You leaned on the table on your elbows and cocked your head, "Did you know him?"

Spencer nodded, "I'm the reason he's dead."

That jolted you from your spot, and you fell against the back of your chair. Your mouth hung open at his casual confession, but he just cocked a brow at you.

"Does that bother you?"

Slowly, you closed your mouth and shook your head. In fact, it made you feel safer with him. He'd killed a monster… and still he was sitting across from you and breathing like it was nothing.

You stood and gathered the book before depositing it safely in the wooden crate. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you remembered what Emily told you about Ian Doyle's death.

He died painfully, and violently, on a tarmac. He's gone, and next I'm going to find Finn and put him down too.

Another promise, another lie.

Spencer watched as you put your things away, his brows furrowed and his shoulders stiff. He didn't press you any further, but his ever constant presence was another reminder of how much danger you were in.

Did Finn know that Spencer was the reason his brother was dead? Had he been watching him the same way he always seemed to be watching you? Lingering in the shadows and waiting to strike… what would Finn do to him if he knew the truth?

It was best you didn't know more about what happened to Ian. At least then you'd have nothing to say when Finn finally caught up to you.

It didn't matter that Spencer led to Ian Doyle's death, that he'd killed a monster. Not to you, anyways…

If Ian was the boogeyman under the bed, Finn was the one pulling his strings. It took more than a gun and a grudge to kill a god.

And no matter how hard you'd tried, you couldn't outrun the devil.

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Notes: Please let me know what you think! Feedback and comments are what fuel the fire for this story! <3

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years

Text

Save Me - Kylo Ren / Ben Solo X GN Reader

Title: Save Me

Kylo Ren / Ben Solo X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Rey, Luke (Mentioned), and Leia (Mentioned),

Requested

WC: 5,198

Warnings: Mention of blood, mention of death, yelling, fighting, threats, very long, and huge angst with a happy ending

You stood in the middle of a clearing, eyes closed. Your lightsaber pulsed in your hand, and you held it tighter. You took a deep breath, before you spun around, holding your lightsaber in a fighting stance. Letting out the breath, you swung your lightsaber, slicing through the air. As you practiced, you tried to remember what Luke had taught you. You remembered him telling you to practice and to always be ready for anything.

You moved gracefully around the clearing, eyes remaining close as you did your deadly dance. You sliced through the air, occasionally feeling the heat of your saber near your face. The Jedi training was now nothing but a memory, though even though you thought about Luke's teachings, you still couldn't help but feel uneasy. You knew you wouldn't be ready without him. You couldn't teach yourself. Though, as you swung and moved, you couldn't help but feel at peace. You could feel one with the force.

But, that didn't stop you from trying every day. You practiced and practiced until you were sore. It wasn't easy to train when you had no one there with you to spar with, or at least watch over you while you did your practice. So, you just kept on doing it alone, knowing you would have to do everything by yourself.

As you swung your saber to the side, you stood up straight, breathing heavily. You finally opened your eyes. Rey stood there, hands on her hips.

"You're getting better." She spoke, and you sighed, sheathing your lightsaber and hooking it to your pants.

"It won't be enough." You muttered, wiping your forehead of sweat with the back of your hand.

"You're a very talented fighter, Y/N. You're better than me." Rey stated, walking closer to you, smiling warmly. "I can tell how much you care about getting stronger."

"It's not about getting stronger. I have to always be ready... For anything." You said, looking down.

Rey nodded, understanding before she looked to the sky.

"You feel that?" She asked and you paused, feeling the force course through you.

You felt something. Something was coming.

"Yeah... I feel it."

Rey turned to you, "I have to warn the others. You know what to do."

You nodded, your eyes hardening. Soon the trees around you moved as the wind picked up. A large ship flew over, landing in the field. It wasn't a Resistance ship. No... It was The First Order.

You grabbed your lightsaber, holding it firmly in your hand as you walked to the edge of the field. You watched as the ship's ramp lowered. Troopers marched down in pairs, stopping in a line, holding their blasters. Your eyes widened slightly as their leader, Kylo Ren walked down the ramp, his black cape flowing in the wind. You felt an overwhelming sense of dread and death flow from him. His force aura was strong... Powerful...

What was he doing here?

Kylo stopped only a couple of feet from you, tall, dark, menacing. He stared at you, you could feel it through his helmet. You felt your heart beat faster as you continued to stare right back at him. The troopers moved their guns, ready to fire. Kylo raised his hand, stopping them from firing.

"Surrender, and your friends won't get hurt." He spoke, his voice was robotic as it traveled through his mask.

You fixed your stance, tightening your grip on your saber. "Sure, like I'd trust the bad guy." You spat back defiantly.

His eyes narrowed, "The First Order is not who you think it is. We are here to protect our people. To restore order."

"And you think I'm the threat? Do you think the Resistance is a threat? We are here to bring peace and balance to the force once again." You argued.

"Peace and Balance are old ways. They've been destroyed." Kylo spoke, stepping closer to you.

You glared at the man, "Peace and balance can never be destroyed so long as you have hope." You spoke and Kylo initiated his lightsaber.

You observed his saber, glowing red. You racked your brain with questions. Who made his lightsaber? You concluded that Kylo used a cracked Kyber crystal, making his saber more ragged and unstable in appearance.

"Last chance, surrender or die." He spoke, threateningly, but you didn't back down. You kept on staring at him, your eyes focused on his mask.

"Not going to happen." You seethed, activating your saber beside you.

He growled, "Then prepare to meet your end!"

"Nah, I think I'll pass." You countered.

Kylo ran towards you, swinging his saber, but you blocked it. The two blades clashed against each other, sparks flying between the two of you. You were too quick for Kylo, dodging his swings easily. Frustrated, he swung again, narrowly missing you as you leaned back as the saber passed over you. You could feel the heat of the lightsaber against your skin.

"Come on..." You grumbled under your breath. "Is that the best you can do?"

He hesitated before speaking, which gave you a small amount of satisfaction.

"I should ask you the same."

You glared, moving forward, and you swung your blade. Kylo blocked it, as he gave the signal for his troopers to move in.

"No!" You yelled, eyes frantic as you continued to hold Kylo off. "You can't do this."

"What does it matter?" Kylo said, hitting your saber again. "They'll all die anyway."

"We aren't all going to die! I swear until my last breath that I am going to end the First Order." You threatened, your voice cracking.

Kylo smirked, "Good luck with that."

With a snarl, Kylo swung his saber, aiming at your chest. You shifted your body, putting your saber up and blocking it. Kylo pushed down, getting closer to you. You grabbed your saber with your other hand, forcing his saber up and off with a grunt.

You stepped away, breathing heavily, holding your saber in defense. A trooper of his rushed over suddenly, out of breath.

"Sir, we're outnumbered." He spoke, and Kylo turned to him.

"Go to the ship, we'll recuperate at the base." He growled, before looking at you once more, sheathing his lightsaber and turning away.

You watched as the troopers rushed past you, rushing up the ramp, Kylo walking up, hooking his saber to his belt. You smirked, sheathing your own saber, you crossed your arms, pivoting your balance to one side. Kylo stood at the entrance of the ship, looking at you as you wiggled your fingers teasingly his way. Growling, Kylo clenched his fist, his leather gloves crinkling.

Closing his eyes, he tried to get into your mind. To try and find out who you were. But you easily blocked him. Marching his way to the main cabin, Kylo slammed his hand down on the desk, startling one of his workers.

"Find whatever you can on this person." He demanded, pointing out the front windows toward you, still standing at the edge of the field, watching as the ship slowly lifted into the air.

"Yes, sir."

~~~

You watched as the ship flew away, once you couldn't see it anymore you finally let out a huge sigh. Rey rushed out and stopped beside you, placing her hand on your shoulder. You suddenly closed your eyes, holding your head. You could feel Kylo trying to get into your mind. You quickly pushed him back, and breathed deeply.

"Are you okay?" Rey asked.

You shook your head, "Uh, yeah. What about everyone else?"

"Yes, they are fine. Only a few injuries." Rey answered, patting your shoulder.

Looking up into the sky, you sighed. "He's going to come back."

Rey nodded, "Yes, but we'll be stronger. He won't stop us."

"I hope you're right."

~~~

"Sir, I got something." The worker spoke and Kylo walked over.

"Who are they?" He asked, and the worker cleared their throat.

"Their name is Y/N L/N, they used to be a lightsaber architect before the Resistance weakened. They created and constructed lightsabers to help teach younglings. Before that, they lived on Tatooine with their parents until they were killed by the Empire when they were young. They survived by thievery and later fixing up old speeders. They are force-sensitive and was found by Skywalker where they were taught the Jedi ways before the temple burned down. They then joined the Resistance and started creating sabers." The man spoke and Kylo narrowed his eyes on the screen.

"It also says here that their great grandfather created Darth Vader's lightsaber." He finished, now this information surprised Kylo.

"Send this to my data pad." He spoke and the worker nodded, sending the information to Kylo.

Kylo stomped his way to his chambers, sitting down in a large black leather chair. Clasping his hands together, he crossed his legs, thinking. He hadn’t thought about you in a long time. You were strong. Very strong with the force. Just like Rey. But, Kylo saw something different in you. Maybe it was your attitude. Or maybe it was your stubbornness. Whatever it was, Kylo knew that you would need to be taught. And that's exactly what he planned to do. He would convince you and bring you to the Order. He would teach you to become a fearless, and powerful fighter.

As Kylo thought, he realized that there was something that drew him in. Just like the force, you had some aura about you. Some power that was unlike any other. He knew that if he didn't have you in his ranks, then the Republic would surely rise in power. His door to his chambers opened, a trooper walking in.

"Sir, we're landing at the base." He spoke, informing the commander.

"Good, leave me." He spoke, and the trooper nodded, bowing before he left, the doors slid closed once more.

Pulling up the information about you on his data pad, Kylo stared at your profile picture.

You're just like me, he thought, zooming in on the picture. You both fought for what you wanted. You didn't back down. You stood your ground. You were powerful... Intimidating.

Kylo smiled as he looked down at his pad.

"Y/N L/N." He whispered, his lips curling into a smile. "If you're to join the Order, it will be my pleasure to train you, and… To see you again."

~~~

"We're moving bases?" You asked Rey as people around you packed everything up in the base, setting it in three heavy frigates.

"Are you saying we should stay?" Rey asked and you nodded, following her as she checked off things on her list.

"I'm saying that we should stay a little longer. I don't have a good feeling about this." You spoke, biting your lip.

Rey paused what she was doing, "There aren't any more resources on this planet to help us... We're going to Crait."

"Crait? What possible resources do they have there?" You asked, knowing Crait was just a small salt planet.

Rey huffed, "The base there has the resources." She explained and you looked up at her.

"What kind of resources?" You questioned.

Rey frowned, "Well... food especially, and medical supplies. There is a lot of technology on that base."

You nodded, "Okay. So when are we leaving?" You asked, glancing around the room.

"Tonight."

You continued to worry on your bottom lip, Rey sighed, rubbing your back.

"You'll be fine. He's far. If we're lucky, he won't be back for a while." She reassured you, and you nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you." You mumbled, smiling a bit.

"For what?"

You shrugged, "For helping me."

Rey smiled and nodded, before rushing off. Your smile faltered and you rushed to your room, grabbing your bag and packing up your stuff. You felt uneasy. You knew Kylo wouldn't give up that easily. He'd go after the Resistance. And you were ready to face him no matter what happened.

~~~

You pulled back, lightsaber warming the side of your face. As you breathed out, you swung your blade, slashing through the air. It had been a long month on the planet Crait. There was nothing to do except practice and help Rey and her friends. But, you are still worried. The wind picked up, the smell of the planet's salt wafted into the air. You finished practicing and turned off your saber, looking at it. Tossing it in your hand, you flipped it into the air, catching it. Smiling, you had an idea.

Rushing inside the base, you went to one of the workrooms. Shoving items and objects out of your way, you placed your bag and lightsaber on the table. You hadn't made or constructed a lightsaber in a long time, but you were excited to do it again. Taking out your tools, you grabbed your magnify-glasses. Grabbing your first tool, you began to take your lightsaber apart. Looking through the lenses, you could see the components, the wires, the circuitry. You carefully took them out, placing them on the table.

Slowly, you grabbed your Kyber crystal with your tweezers. You placed it on the table, and began working. You grabbed your protective glasses, you began to work on adding a few... Upgrades. You worked for hours, and hours. It was early morning when you finally finished. You placed and secured the final metal piece. You let out a huge sigh, completely tired, and slightly delirious. You cleaned up your workplace and grabbed your saber. You dragged your feet to your room and fell into your bed, instantly falling asleep.

~~~

"Y/N!"

You woke up when you heard your name, rubbing your eyes as you yawned. Rey stood by your bed, eyes widened.

"What?" You asked and Rey frowned.

"He's here. I need you to distract him. I have a plan to get his troops trapped in one of the salt pits."

When you heard that Kylo was back, you were instantly awake. Hopping out of the bed and grabbing your saber, you quickly rushed out of the room and out to the entrance of the base.

Kylo watched from the ramp as the base's huge metal door lifted, vulptices rushed out of the base; disappearing from sight as their salty coat shimmered in the light. As the door lifted further, you stood there, holding your lightsaber by your side. The both of you walked forward towards each other. The base's door shut loudly, echoing. Merely feet from each other, the two of you didn't speak for a long time.

"You should surrender." He spoke, and you sighed.

"Are we really going back to this? I'm not surrendering." You spoke with a roll of your eyes.

Kylo smirked, "Why not? You've given up on so many things, Y/N. Why not give up on this too?"

Filled with confusion, you tilted your head slightly. "What are you talking about?"

Kylo stepped closer, "You gave up on saving your friend… From the temple."

Eyes widening for a moment, you glared at the man, writing your teeth.

"How do you know about that? I cou;dn’t do anything, I was a kid." You spoke, roughly.

He stepped closer, "You had the force. You could've done something." He spoke and you growled.

"You are not tricking me into thinking his death was my fault. I have lived with the idea of that, but I know it wasn't my fault. It was the Empire's fault." You spoke coldly, looking away from him.

"So, you decided to join the Resistance instead of avenging him?" He asked, and you looked back at him.

"What?" You said, confused.

"What would joining the Empire or the Order do about my dead best friend? Nothing! But, joining the rebellion would save more lives than I could ever imagine. That's why I joined." You spoke and Kylo stopped, tilting his head. "I'm not an idiot, Kylo."

No, you weren't, he thought.

"You are more like me than you think." He spoke and you laughed bitterly.

"Really? I think that your helmet is cutting off your brain's circulation." You spat.

"And yet, you don't deny it." Kylo retorted, and you scoffed.

"I am not like you, Kylo. I don't kill people because they don't want to kneel before me." You spoke, and he glared.

"Do you think I care? I want to rule the galaxy, to defeat the last Jedi, and bring balance to the force." He spat angrily.

"Doing that won't bring you anything." You replied, and Kylo raised his eyebrows.

"How do you know that?" He asked and you shrugged.

"Darth Vader wanted the same thing, and from what I heard... He failed."

Igniting his saber, he growled. Lighting yours, you lit both ends, showing off your new double-bladed lightsaber. You watched as Kylo hesitated before speaking.

"Added an upgrade, I see?" He gestured to your saber with his.

"Yeah. I needed some change in my life." You replied, not looking at him as you swung your lightsaber expertly in the air, catching it and spinning it around with ease.

"A double blade will only slow you down, Y/N. It will not help you win against me." He warned.

"Oh, really?" You replied, and he smirked.

You both charged at each other, your lightsabers flashing in the sunlight. Kylo slashed, swinging his saber towards you. You dodged and blocked, moving your hands and feet. For a moment, the two of you were locked in a dance, both of you trying to get the upper hand on the other. Kylo grinned as he saw you start to lose your concentration.

Taking a step forward, Kylo swung his saber towards you, aiming for your chest. You stepped backwards, dodging the blow easily, but lost your grip on your saber, dropping it onto the salty ground. Eyes wide, you backed away, but Kylo followed.

"You have so much to learn." He spoke, before taking off his helmet and tossing it to the side.

You were amazed by how beautiful he was, with his black wavy hair, and deep brown eyes. He looked so similar. But you quickly pushed that out of your mind, glaring at the man before you.

"I can teach you." He continued.

"I don't want your teachings." You snapped, before jumping up and kicking Kylo's lightsaber out of his hands. Using the force, sending it flying in the direction of the salt pit.

"That's right. You shouldn't need that anymore." You spoke with a smirk, and Kylo sneered.

He wanted to wipe that smirk off your lips, one way or another.

"I'm going to show you pain." He snarled, charging at you.

Swiftly, you moved out of the way, avoiding his blow and dodging his fist, spinning around you and pushing him away.

"You have no chance against me, Y/N." Kylo spoke, and you rolled your eyes.

"Oh, I think you'll be surprised."

Kylo tried to grab you, but you used the force to knock him over. He landed hard on the ground, groaning. Picking himself up, he charged at you again. Quickly, you jumped out of his way, using the force to lift yourself into the air gracefully.

"Impressive." Kylo said, watching you float back down.

As the two of you moved, the red soil underneath the salty ground emerged, creating beautiful, but deadly art. You swing your fist, but Kylo grabbed your wrist. Trapped in his grasp, you tried to pull away, but you couldn't. Looking up at the man, you noticed his smug grin and narrowed your eyes. In a quick move, Kylo whipped you around, spinning you out as if you were dancing and into his chest.

"You're stronger than you look." He spoke, watching as you tried to figure out a way to get out of the situation.

"It's time to end this, Y/N." He spoke, and you nodded, getting an idea.

"Then, let's make it memorable." You replied, leaning up quickly and pressing your lips against his, holding his face in your hands.

Kylo's eyes widened, shock and surprise written all over his face as you pulled away. While he was distracted, you grabbed your lightsaber with the force and ran back to the giant base door, sliding under it as it went up and slowly closed. Kylo cursed under his breath, grabbing his saber and helmet with the force as well, stomping his way towards his ship. As the ship's doors closed, Kylo raged, looking around.

"Where are my knights?" He demanded, and a worker spoke up.

"They were lured into the salt pits, sir." He spoke, and Kylo growled.

Rushing off to his chambers, Kylo slashed the walls with his lightsaber, destroying everything in sight. Rage consumed him, but he pushed it away. Focusing on the mission ahead, he sat down and activated his comlink.

"I want everyone focused on bringing Y/N L/N in."

Kylo collapsed in his slightly murdered chair, running his hand through his hair. He tried to close his eyes, but all he saw was you. The kiss... Your body pressed against his...

"Focus on the mission, Kylo." He told himself sternly, opening his eyes.

~~~

You slid down the heavy door, breathing heavily. You raised your hand, touching your lips with the tips of your fingers. You felt dizzy, your heart racing, your face red with a fierce blush. Who was he? He was so familiar. The way he looked at you. Deep down, you felt as if you should’ve known who he was. You looked at your hand, before pushing yourself up and rushing to your room. Before you could get to your room though, Rey stopped you in the hall.

"Great job out there. Whatever you did kept him away long enough for us to take down his troopers." She smiled, patting your shoulder.

"Thank you." You breathed, smiling back at her.

You didn't want to tell her what you did to succeed though.

"You go get some rest. You deserve it."

"Thanks." You smiled, nodding your head and walking into your room. You leaned back onto the bed, closing your eyes. Your thoughts wandered to Kylo, and your cheeks flushed. You replayed the moment in your mind, and your heart pounded harder. You shouldn't feel this way towards him.

But you liked it.

You loved it.

~~~

It had been a few months since your 'dance battle' per se with Kylo. You had almost forgotten what had happened that day... Almost. It still lingered in the back of your mind at times. You and the Resistance moved to Tatooine. Where you were traveling through the small town, trudging through the sandy roads as you made it to a cantina. But, then you stopped. You felt uneasy. Something from the force was telling you that something was wrong.

You looked around but saw nothing, you shrugged to yourself and continued walking.When you passed an alleyway, you felt a sharp sting on the side of your neck. Hissing, you clutched your neck, feeling a small dart. Pulling it out, you stared at it before you began to lose your vision, and slowly slipped out of consciousness.

~~~

You groaned, the light behind your eyes already blinding you. You didn't want to open them, but you had to. Opening them, you found yourself strapped to a slightly tilted table. You tried to sit up, but you instantly fell back down.

"Don't move." A voice spoke, and you blinked a few times. You recognized that voice. Kylo.

"Where am I?"

"My base." He spoke and you glared at the man.

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways." He spoke, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Why am I here?" You asked, straining against the wraps on your arms and wrists.

"You're here because I want answers, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes. "You already know that I am here, so you know where our base is. You don't need me. Can I go now?" You tried and Kylo frowned.

"That's not what I wanted to ask. Where is Skywalker?" He demanded, and you rolled your eyes.

"Who? Who's Skywalker?"

"Are you serious? Luke Skywalker!" He roared, and you glared.

"Mmm, no I don't think I know who that is..." You spoke, sounding very bored.

"You know where he is, Y/N." He growled, and you sighed.

"Fine. I'll tell you, but you have to let me go." You spoke softly, and he shook his head.

"No." He replied, and you groaned.

"Then I guess I can't help you."

"I know where your friends are..." He spoke, and you nodded.

"Very well. Then I suggest you untie me, so that we might continue our conversation." You spoke calmly, and he seemed to consider what you just said.

Kylo ignored you, staring at you as you stared at him. He had a look in his eyes, as he looked at you. You didn't like that look. It unnerved you.

"What is it?" You asked, looking back at him.

"I want to know-"

You sighed, annoyed, "I told you, I don't know where Luke is-" You interrupted him.

"Not that..." He spoke softly.

His mind was racing as was his heart.

"I want to know why you kissed me." Kylo spoke, and you turned bright red.

He wanted to know if you kissed him because you remembered, or not.

"I had to distract you somehow. By the way... It worked, all your troopers fell for the pit trap." You smirked and Kylo glared down at you.

Kylo narrowed his eyes as he looked at you. Using the force he let himself into your mind. You couldn't fight it, you were too weak from the tranquilizer dart. Searching in your mind, he smirked when he found what he wanted.

"Get... Out of my head." You seethed, eyes clenched shut as you hissed in pain. "Stop it! What do you want?!" You yelled, trying to push out of the way. Kylo grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"You." He growled, and you rolled your eyes.

"What are you even talking about?"

"I want you to join me. My reign will begin once Skywalker is gone."

"That's not happening." You spat back, glaring at him.

Kylo chuckled darkly before speaking, "Ah, but you wouldn't say that if you knew what was in store for you."

Moving your chin from his grasp you looked at him skeptically. "Like what?"

Kylo hummed, "You and I can rule the universe together. Not let anyone stand in our way."

Kylo moved closer to you, moving his lips to your ear.

"Surrender, Y/N. Join me."

You shuddered as you felt his hot breath on your neck. "No."

Kylo sighed, "I give you one last chance to join me."

You said nothing, turning away from him with a frown.

He scoffed, "I should've let you die... But I chose to protect you." He spoke and you turned to him with a confused expression.

"What?" You asked and Kylo turned back to you, glaring.

"You don't remember? I thought taking off my helmet would've helped you."

Staring at the man before you, you looked at his hair, to his brown eyes, to his freckles, and his nose. Slowly, the puzzle pieces formed together, and you remembered.

~~~

Everything was on fire. Smoke filled the temple, entering your lungs, making your cough. You couldn't see anything but flames. You coughed as you ran through the burning building, trying to find where everyone was. Around you, the other children were dead, either from the smoke or some other deadly weapon. You searched for some way out, feeling weaker and weaker as time went on. You had to find Ben, but you couldn't find him, he was gone. Your best friend was missing and you assumed the worst. Tears streamed down your face as you screamed for someone to help.

"Help!" You shouted, leaning down to cough. "There's no one else here! Please, somebody, help me!"

You suddenly felt someone grab you by the arm and pull you from the temple and through the halls and finally into the open air. You coughed wildly, holding your neck.

"B... Ben?" You stuttered, looking up at your best friend before you.

Ben held onto your hand, breathing heavily. He had blood dripping from his lip, and his clothes were charred.

You smiled, wiping the tears from your eyes. "I'm glad you're okay." You whispered, and Ben shook his head.

"I'm not." Your smile immediately vanished.

"What?"

Ben sighed, looking off at the burning temple. "I'm not okay. I don't think I ever was." He muttered, wiping his bloody mouth.

"I... I don't understand... Ben-" He suddenly ran off, into the woods.

~~~

You never saw Ben after that night. After he left, you thought the worst. That he was hurt, or worse. You waited for weeks, going over every detail of that night, hoping he would come back. But, he never did. Luke had found you and sent you to his sister's, where you stayed for the years to come.

With tears in your eyes, you looked up at Kylo... No... Ben. His dark hair fell in his eyes. Ben's eyes were the same as Kylo's, but his were warm and kind, unlike Kylo's now cold gaze.

"Ben..."

"I'm not him anymore." He growled and you frowned.

"What do you mean?" You asked quietly, and he turned to you.

"The person you knew is gone."

"What are you saying? Kylo killed him?" You bitterly joked, and Ben nodded his head.

"I did." You shook your head, dropping your head to your chest.

"No, no you didn't. You are still Ben. You saved me. You took me to safety." You spoke, looking back up at him. "But I know now, I should've seen what you were going through. I'm sorry." You bowed your head, and Ben exhaled sharply.

"No... You are wrong. You did save me." He spoke, and you looked up at him.

"How did I save you, Kylo. You've killed so many people." You whispered, and he turned away.

His mind was telling him to fight, to find Skywalker no matter what and get rid of him. Take over the galaxy. But… His heart begged you to save him.

"But... That doesn't mean that you can't change... You can still be Ben. I know he is still there inside you. I can help you find the person you once were." You whispered, and Kylo looked at you, tears in his own eyes.

"I don't think I can. I've caused too much anguish and pain."

You sighed, smiling slightly. "I know you can go back to the light, Ben."

He looked away, shaking his head. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

"We can do this together. Like we used to."

Ben stayed silent for a long time, before walking to you and untying you. You hopped down and immediately wrapped your arms around him. He hesitantly wrapped his own arms around you, pulling you close. Leaning down, he nuzzled his head into your neck, wetting your shoulder with his tears. You shushed him gently, raking your hand through his hair.

"We'll do this together."

_________________________________________________

Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you like it! I had so much fun writing this. :)

#kylo ren #ben solo #rey #fluff #cute #angst #angst with a happy ending #star wars #luke skywalker #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x female reader #ben solo x y/n #ben solo x female reader #ben solo x you #adam driver

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istumpysk · 1 year

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Tyrion VIII (Chapter 33)

A huge man, taller than Ser Jorah and wide enough to make two of him, the priest wore scarlet robes embroidered at sleeve and hem and collar with orange satin flames. His skin was black as pitch, his hair as white as snow; the flames tattooed across his cheeks and brow yellow and orange. His iron staff was as tall as he was and crowned with a dragon's head; when he stamped its butt upon the deck, the dragon's maw spat crackling green flame.

Dark flame!

He's massive, and Daenerys shouldn't trust him? Looks like I have a new crush.

Green flames mixed with dragons sounds like fun.

+.+.+

His guardsmen, five slave warriors of the Fiery Hand, led the responses. They chanted in the tongue of Old Volantis, but Tyrion had heard the prayers enough to grasp the essence. Light our fire and protect us from the dark, blah blah, light our way and keep us toasty warm, the night is dark and full of terrors, save us from the scary things, and blah blah blah some more.

He finally made me laugh.

+.+.+

The Selaesori Qhoran was a wallowing tub of five hundred tons, with a deep hold, high castles fore and aft, and a single mast between. At her forecastle stood a grotesque figurehead, some worm-eaten wooden eminence with a constipated look and a scroll tucked up under one arm. Tyrion had never seen an uglier ship.

Someone tell me who or what this figurehead represents.

+.+.+

Three of the mates and more than three-quarters of the crew were fervent worshipers of the Lord of Light. Tyrion was less certain about the captain, who always emerged for the evening prayers but took no other part in them. But Moqorro was the true master of the Selaesori Qhoran, at least for this voyage.

"Lord of Light, bless your slave Moqorro, and light his way in the dark places of the world," the red priest boomed. "And defend your righteous slave Benerro. Grant him courage. Grant him wisdom. Fill his heart with fire."

If this ship is the perfumed seneschal then religious fanaticism is what Daenerys needs to be cautious of. She wouldn't be warned about Moqorro or Tyrion twice.

+.+.+

And the sight of me can only be salt in her [Penny] wound. They hacked off her brother's head in the hope that it was mine, yet here I sit like some bloody gargoyle, offering empty consolations. If I were her, I'd want nothing more than to shove me into the sea.

Including for those who think Tyrion will drown.

+.+.+

The red priest rested by day but kept vigil through the dark hours, to tend his sacred flames so that the sun might return to them at dawn.

A religion for people who need a night light.

+.+.+

He was staring into the flickering flames, lost in some vision. Does he see days yet to come, as he claims? If so, that was a fearsome gift.

I'd say curse.

+.+.+

"Someone told me that the night is dark and full of terrors. What do you see in those flames?"

"Dragons," Moqorro said in the Common Tongue of Westeros. He spoke it very well, with hardly a trace of accent. No doubt that was one reason the high priest Benerro had chosen him to bring the faith of R'hllor to Daenerys Targaryen. "Dragons old and young, true and false, bright and dark. And you. A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of all."

That's considered fAegon evidence.

Dragons old and young: The youngins & Aemon? Bloodraven?

True and false: The real ones & Aegon? Jon? In a way Daenerys is also false.

Bright and dark: The good ones & Daenerys? Bloodraven?

And you. A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of all:

When he opened the door, the light from within threw his shadow clear across the yard, and for just a moment Tyrion Lannister stood tall as a king. - Jon I, AGOT

"A shadow on the wall," Varys murmured, "yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow." - Tyrion II, ACOK

"You are fighting shadows when you should be fighting the men who cast them," Daario went on. - Daenerys IV, ADWD

+.+.+

"Did you see how long it will take us to reach Meereen?"

"You are eager to behold the world's deliverer?"

I can't wait for these people to be in her inner circle. I'm giddy at the thought.

+.+.+

Tell me, was Selaesori Qhoran a triarch or a turtle?"

The red priest chuckled. "Neither. Qhoran is … not a ruler, but one who serves and counsels such, and helps conduct his business. You of Westeros might say steward or magister."

King's Hand? That amused him. "And selaesori?"

Moqorro touched his nose. "Imbued with a pleasant aroma. Fragrant, would you say? Flowery?"

"So Selaesori Qhoran means Stinky Steward, more or less?"

"Fragrant Steward, rather."

Tyrion gave a crooked grin. "I believe I will stay with Stinky. But I do thank you for the lesson."

Is it a misdirection, a clue, or simply the ship? You decide!

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal." - Daenerys II, ADWD

+.+.+

He found Mormont stretched out in the lower one, swaying slowly with the motion of the ship. "The girl finally poked her nose abovedecks," Tyrion told him. "One look at me and she scurried right back down below."

"You're not a pretty sight."

"Not all of us can be as comely as you. The girl is lost. It would not surprise me if the poor creature wasn't sneaking up to jump over the side and drown herself."

That's funny, he does the comely thing twice with these two.

Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow. - Daenerys II, ASOS

↓

Ser Jorah had never been what one might call a comely man. The brand had transformed his face into something frightening.

Tyrion grinned. "As long as I look prettier than you, I will be happy." - Tyrion XII, ADWD

+.+.+

Groat and Penny. The smallest coins, worth the least, and what's worse, they chose the names themselves. It left a bad taste in Tyrion's mouth. "By any name, she needs a friend."

Ser Jorah sat up in his hammock. "Befriend her, then. Marry her, for all I care."

[...]

"You were the one who insisted that we bring her."

"I said we could not abandon her in Volantis. That does not mean I want to fuck her. She wants me dead, have you forgotten? I'm the last person she's like to want as a friend."

Fantastic, we're giving Tyrion a vulnerable girl in need of rescuing. Vomit.

+.+.+

"You are a harmless creature, to be sure. Innocent as a lamb." Ser Jorah got to his feet. "The dwarf girl is your burden. Kiss her, kill her, or avoid her, as you like. It's naught to me." He shouldered past Tyrion and out of the cabin.

Twice exiled, and small wonder, Tyrion thought. I'd exile him too if I could. The man is cold, brooding, sullen, deaf to humor. And those are his good points.

Let's wait and see if you're afforded that type of influence at the end.

+.+.+

Life aboard the Selaesori Qhoran was nothing if not tedious, Tyrion had found. The most exciting part of his day was pricking his toes and fingers with a knife.

This guy still fears greyscale, yet that didn't stop him from ejaculating inside a bed slave. I will never get over it.

+.+.+

And the nights were worse. Tyrion slept badly at the best of times, and this was far from that. Sleep meant dreams as like as not, and in his dreams the Sorrows waited, and a stony king with his father's face.

Later in the chapter:

Gerion Lannister had set sail for Valyria when Tyrion was eighteen, intent on recovering the lost ancestral blade of House Lannister and any other treasures that might have survived the Doom. Tyrion had wanted desperately to go with them, but his lord father had dubbed the voyage a "fool's quest," and forbidden him to take part.

And perhaps he was not so wrong. Almost a decade had passed since the Laughing Lion headed out from Lannisport, and Gerion had never returned. The men Lord Tywin sent to seek after him had traced his course as far as Volantis, where half his crew had deserted him and he had bought slaves to replace them.

Many people believe the Shrouded Lord is Gerion Lannister. I'm not sure what the point of that would be, but okay.

+.+.+

Dark and deep and forbidding, beautiful in a chilly sort of way, but when he looked at it too long Tyrion found himself musing on how easy it would be to slip over the gunwale and drop down into that darkness. One very small splash, and the pathetic little tale that was his life would soon be done. But what if there is a hell and my father's waiting for me?

Including for those who think Tyrion will drown.

+.+.+

Her captain being an especially bookish man, she carried three—a collection of nautical poetry that went from bad to worse, a well-thumbed tome about the erotic adventures of a young slave girl in a Lysene pillow house, and the fourth and final volume of The Life of the Triarch Belicho, a famous Volantene patriot whose unbroken succession of conquests and triumphs ended rather abruptly when he was eaten by giants.

Shoutout to @aegor-bamfsteel!

+.+.+

Then, for lack of any other books, he started reading them again. The slave girl's story was the worst written but the most engrossing

If that's a commentary on his own series, I'm going to die of laughter.

Her chapters are the worst written.

+.+.+

We went to Tyrosh first. My brother thought that would be far enough, but it wasn't. We knew a juggler there. For years and years he would juggle every day by the Fountain of the Drunken God. He was old, so his hands were not as deft as they had been, and sometimes he would drop his balls and chase them across the square, but the Tyroshi would laugh and throw him coins all the same. Then one morning we heard that his body had been found at the Temple of Trios. Trios has three heads, and there's a big statue of him beside the temple doors. The old man had been cut into three parts and pushed inside the threefold mouths of Trios. Only when the parts were sewn back together, his head was gone."

One time, the girl remembered, the Sailor's Wife had walked her rounds with her and told her tales of the city's stranger gods. "That is the house of the Great Shepherd. Three-headed Trios has that tower with three turrets. The first head devours the dying, and the reborn emerge from the third. I don't know what the middle head's supposed to do. - The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD

I feel like there's a hidden message here.

+.+.+

"He died for you. His blood is on your hands."

The accusation stung, coming so hard on the heels of Jorah Mormont's words. "His blood is on my sister's hands, and the hands of the brutes who killed him. My hands …" Tyrion turned them over, inspected them, coiled them into fists. "… my hands are crusted with old blood, aye. Call me kinslayer, and you won't be wrong. Kingslayer, I'll answer to that one as well. I have killed mothers, fathers, nephews, lovers, men and women, kings and whores. A singer once annoyed me, so I had the bastard stewed. But I have never killed a juggler, nor a dwarf, and I am not to blame for what happened to your bloody brother."

Most of that is true.

+.+.+

Tyrion remembered the storm he'd suffered crossing the narrow sea, the way the deck had jumped beneath his feet, the hideous creaking sounds the ship had made, the taste of wine and vomit. "No-Nose will stay up here." If the gods wanted him, he would sooner die by drowning than choking on his own vomit.

Including for those who think Tyrion will drown.

Please make the Sailor's Wife a prophet! Do it.

+.+.+

The salt air lay still and heavy that morning, but the western sky was a fiery red, streaked with lowering clouds that glowed as bright as Lannister crimson.

[...]

Behind them black clouds piled one atop another against a blood-red sky. By midmorning they could see lightning flickering to the west, followed by the distant crash of thunder. The sea grew rougher, and dark waves rose up to smash against the hull of the Stinky Steward.

Is it the Doom of Valyria or the Doom of Daenerys?

+.+.+

Her teeth were crooked, which made her shy with her smiles, but she smiled now. "Did you truly cook a singer in a stew?"

"Who, me? No. I do not cook."

When Penny giggled, she sounded like the sweet young girl she was … seventeen, eighteen, no more than nineteen. "What did he do, this singer?"

"He wrote a song about me." For she was his secret treasure, she was his shame and his bliss. And a chain and a keep are nothing, compared to a woman's kiss. It was queer how quick the words came back to him. Perhaps they had never left him. Hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm.

If Wyman Manderly is destined to die for forcing cannibalism on others, why isn't Tyrion?

+.+.+

"It was Father's idea to do the tilts. He even trained the first pig, but by then he was too sick to ride her, so Oppo took his place. I always rode the dog. We performed for the Sealord of Braavos once, and he laughed so hard that afterward he gave each of us a … a grand gift."

Dot, dot, dot. That's strange.

Braavos is synonymous with a certain type of gift.

Women bring life into the world. We bring the gift of death. No one can do both. - Arya II, AFFC

That very night he chose the most wretched of the slaves, the one who had prayed most earnestly for release, and freed him from his bondage. The first gift had been given. - Arya II, AFFC

"Give a certain man a certain gift. Can you do that?" - The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD

Did Penny have someone killed? Lol.

What else could it be, a coin?

+.+.+

"Is that where my sister found you? In Braavos?"

"Your sister?" The girl looked lost.

"Queen Cersei."

Penny shook her head. "She never … it was a man who came to us, in Pentos. Osmund. No, Oswald. Something like that. Oppo met with him, not me. Oppo made all of our arrangements. My brother always knew what to do, where we should go next."

He's so meta in this chapter. That was George poking fun at himself.

Oswald Kettleblack was the first to laugh. - Tyrion X, ASOS

"There's your poisoner," suggested Ser Oswald Kettleblack with a sly grin. - Jaime VIII, ASOS

There is no Oswald Kettleblack.

None of this matters. Tyrion could have been told it was Littlefinger's idea and he still wouldn't have done anything about it.

+.+.+

That same night, she came right out and asked him if he would like to tilt with her. "No," he answered. Only later did it occur to him that perhaps tilt did not mean tilt. His answer would still have been no, but he might not have been so brusque.

Nooo Penny.

+.+.+

One of the mates was on the sterncastle, and amidships Moqorro sat by his brazier, where a few small flames still danced amongst the embers.

Only the brightest stars were visible, all to the west. A dull red glow lit the sky to the northeast, the color of a blood bruise. Tyrion had never seen a bigger moon. Monstrous, swollen, it looked as if it had swallowed the sun and woken with a fever. Its twin, floating on the sea beyond the ship, shimmered red with every wave. "What hour is this?" he asked Moqorro. "That cannot be sunrise unless the east has moved. Why is the sky red?"

"The sky is always red above Valyria, Hugor Hill."

A cold chill went down his back.

A lot of people believe this is pointing to Mirri Maz Duur's words.

"When will he be as he was?" Dany demanded.

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," said Mirri Maz Duur. "When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before." - Daenerys IX, AGOT

That was not a prophecy, that was a fuck you.

And I don't think it has anything to do with the following either.

"To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow." - Daenerys III, ACOK.

+.+.+

Valyria. It was written that on the day of Doom every hill for five hundred miles had split asunder to fill the air with ash and smoke and fire, blazes so hot and hungry that even the dragons in the sky were engulfed and consumed. Great rents had opened in the earth, swallowing palaces, temples, entire towns. Lakes boiled or turned to acid, mountains burst, fiery fountains spewed molten rock a thousand feet into the air, red clouds rained down dragonglass and the black blood of demons, and to the north the ground splintered and collapsed and fell in on itself and an angry sea came rushing in. The proudest city in all the world was gone in an instant, its fabled empire vanished in a day, the Lands of the Long Summer scorched and drowned and blighted.

An empire built on blood and fire. The Valyrians reaped the seed they had sown.

What lesson can I pull from this?

+.+.+

"Our captain would prefer to be fifty leagues farther out to sea, well away from that accursed shore, but I have commanded him to steer the shortest course. Others seek Daenerys too."

Griff, with his young prince. Could all that talk of the Golden Company sailing west have been a feint? Tyrion considered saying something, then thought better. It seemed to him that the prophecy that drove the red priests had room for just one hero. A second Targaryen would only serve to confuse them. "Have you seen these others in your fires?" he asked, warily.

"Only their shadows," Moqorro said. "One most of all. A tall and twisted thing with one black eye and ten long arms, sailing on a sea of blood."

A second Targaryen would only serve to confuse them.

Just you wait!

Final thoughts:

Imagine Daenerys is on the verge of going full berserk and it's Penny or her memory that convinces Tyrion humanity is worth fighting for.

I will gag.

43 down, 6 to go. :(

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#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #tyrion viii

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transboysokka · 9 months

Note

Zukka: "...Who did this to you?" || "Let it go (Name), it doesn't matter-" || "Yes, it does. Who did this to you?"

From Injury Prompts || Send more!

"...Who did this to you?"

Leave it to Sokka to notice when the tiniest thing was wrong with Zuko. It was endearing, and one of the many things Zuko loved about him, but now was not the time.

"Let it go Sokka, it doesn't matter-"

"Yes, it does. Who did this to you?" Sokka had fully stopped their sparring session now, sheathing his sword and stepping toward Zuko to take his forearms in his hands. He frowned and traced the small red scratches decorating both of Zuko's forearms. His sleeves must have fallen back during their fight...

"Sokka..." Zuko took the other man's hands in his own and pulled his sleeves back down. "Just trust me. It's... something I'm working on and I didn't want to tell you yet..."

Sokka pulled back his hands and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly not willing to let this go. Agni bless him.

"Babe. Baby. Zuko. Those are fresh, some of them are deep, they could get infected, and you don't care? Why can't you-" Sokka cut himself off, the expression on his face changing from one of irritation and protection to one of sadness and worry. His voice was much quieter, like he was afraid to hear the answer to the question he asked, "...Are you... hurting yourself again?"

Zuko closed his eyes and held back a groan. Fuck, this was not how this was supposed to go at all. He was starting to question the surprise he had arranged for his husband after all- it was such a dumb idea... and he really didn't want to revisit his old issues...

He opened his eyes and saw Sokka was still waiting for an answer. He hated the look he saw on his face.

"No, Sokka, it's... not like that. Trust me, I'd tell you if I... needed help with something like that. I uh..." Zuko rubbed at the back of his neck. The cat owl was out of the bag now, literally, but this was not how he'd wanted this to go... He made up his mind and sighed. "Just... come with me. It will make more sense if I show you..."

The worried look didn't disappear from Sokka's eyes as he followed Zuko out to their turtle duck pond. When he saw what awaited them there, the look did however shift quickly into one of confused amusement.

The turtle ducks were involved in an intense fight with a large cat owl, who seemed clearly intent on making the ducklings its next meal. They fought back with impressive bite.

"Scratchy, come on! Bad bird!" Zuko groaned and chased after the cat owl, managing to wrangle it into a cage waiting on a bench- but not before it could get a few fresh scratches in on Zuko's arms.

He locked the cage door shut and tensed as he turned back to face Sokka, sure he was probably in for an earful.

Instead, Zuko found his lover clutching his knees in a fit of laughter.

"Babe, please explain what the fuck you're doing with a cat owl named Scratchy. Is this your new pet?" Sokka asked when he managed to get the laughter under control, tears streaming from his eyes.

Zuko turned a shade of red that he rarely reached, and he could see Sokka's amusement growing even more.

"Uh, no, I... well..." he rubbed again at the back of his neck. This was going terribly. "Um, I got the bird for you... As a birthday gift... I know you talk about how sometimes you miss Hawky from all those years ago and... Well, it wasn't ready yet but I felt like I had to show you now because you saw the scratches and... I know he's not ready, I was going to train him more before I gave him to you but... And you can change the name too, you know! I was just calling him that because, well... Sorry, this was stupid. I can return him-"

Sokka cut off Zuko's rambling with a deep kiss, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Zuko's neck. Zuko returned the kiss, relieved, careful not to get any blood from the new scratches on his husband's clothes as he held his waist.

After a minute or two, Sokka pulled back and looked up into Sokka's eyes, the amusement still there.

"That is the sweetest, most Zuko thing you could do for me. I love it so much. ...We'll talk about the name, though."

#spoiler alert they never change the name #im sorry that i even have to make fluff a little angsty lol oops #self-harm mention /#quesTian #atla #zukka #drabble #text

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musette22 · 1 year

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Happy Friday! ✨🌻🥳️🌷

I was just sitting here at my desk before lunch, and I saw you in my notes and in posts I have queued up and I just was overcome by how much I enjoy seeing your username float across my dash.

Then I started thinking about Steve Rogers and how much I love him for the decade-ish we got to spend with him, and also thankful for how he lives on in fandom, in fanfic and thrives so we haven't really lost him. I wanted to ask if you have three favorite things about Steve that you'd like to share with us?

You make me really happy, and I hope you have some lovely weekend plans ahead of you ✨

TEJ, you beautiful angel!!! 🥺💖 First of all,

HAPPY FRIDAYYY💕🥰🥳️

And second of all, WHY are you so sweet? HOW? 🥺 This message genuinely made me tear up a little because I'm just so touched that my presence on your dash and in your notes means anything at all to you, let alone that you enjoy seeing me and that I make you happy 😭 That's just so wonderful to hear, I can't even tell you. Especially coming from you, who I adore and admire so much in return!!! ✨✨ Sorry to make this all sappy lol but this message really meant a lot. I've been saving it for last, so I'm heading to bed after this, but yeah, just... thank you for being so sweet and kind and thoughtful ❤️✨

And also, thank you for loving Steve too, and for asking me about him, because GOD I love him so damn much? He and Bucky literally are my favourite characters ever, and I can't believe how much they've come to mean to me. I could talk about Steve forever and pretty much everything about him is my favourite thing, but let me see if I can think of three things I love about Steven Grant Rogers! 🥰

Ok, thing number 1. I love how GOOD Steve is. He's a genuinely good man who I'd trust with my life, with the fate of the world even, because you just know he'll never stop standing up for what's right, never stop helping people in need and doing the right thing. Steve's internal moral compass is strong, and he's steadfast and incorruptible, and in this world that is pretty rare and sorely needed. I just feel safe with him, you know? He kind of feels like an anchor and a true north and the sun all at once, and I love love love him for that.

Having said all that, I also love him because he's a little shit. He's got a great and underrated sense of humor, witty but dry, and while he takes himself seriously when he needs to (though he's never self-important about it) he's also self-deprecating (sometimes to a fault) and is absolutely able to laugh at himself too. And you just know that he loves good-naturedly trolling his friends (you know that swear jar headcanon? that's 1000% Steve) and is always up for a pulling a good prank. He and Bucky got into so much trouble together back in the day, I just know it <3

And thirdly (but definitely not lastly, there are so many more things!), I love how Steve loves. He just cares so much. About good people who deserve better, about making the world a better, more peaceful place, about protecting the beauty in the world. Steve is for a large part the person he is because of Sarah Rogers, and he loves his mother so, so much. I'll be forever mad that their relationship was so neglected in the MCU. Steve also fiercely loves his friends, like the Howlies and the Avengers, and he'd do almost anything to help and protect them when it came down to it, because he cares. He's incapable of not caring and I think that's beautiful.

But most of all (and this is more of an extension of the previous point but also kind of deserves to be its own point), I love how Steve loves Bucky. Bucky is the most important person in Steve's life. His best friend, his partner (both in crime and in life), his lover, his one and only. Soulmates, if you will, because Bucky is a perfect match for Steve in every way. Just as good, just as kind and incorruptible, just as caring - he just goes about some things in a slightly different way, which helps to ground and balance Steve and keeps him from losing himself completely in his noble but sometimes idealistic pursuits. And even when Bucky is seemingly lost, not remembering who he used to be and literally trying to kill Steve, Steve never considers giving up on him. He'd rather die than give up on Bucky, that's just a fact of life. Their love feels so certain and steadfast and unshakable and eternal, and that gives me so much peace and joy and comfort on a daily basis, you know? So yeah, I love Steve for the way he loves and cares, and particularly for the way he loves Bucky ❤️

So sorry to ramble on like this, I did warn you 😭 Thank you so much again for your message and this question, sweetheart. I hope you have had a wonderful Friday night, and that the weekend ahead is full of fun and relaxing things for you! Love youuuuuuuuuu 😘🌷

#tejjjj 💞💞💞#lovely people are lovely #steve rogers #stucky #minnie answers

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skythesnake · 4 months

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The Fates That Bind Us - Val kills Phoenix

Hidden in the shadows, I dropped silently to the floor from the glass ceiling above. For a leader of the largest underground movement in the world, the man wasn't nearly as careful as he should be. The window roof was unlocked. The door opened across the large study right on time, and Maria slid through. It clicked shut and she shifted behind a bookcase as the man whirled around, startled out of the book he'd been reading.

"Who's there?" He asked suspiciously. A few moments of silence, I could feel the tension in the air, so thick I could have sliced it with my knife. Maria walked into his view, hands held up, palms open.

"Hello, Phoenix." I couldn't see his face now, but I saw his entire body tense. She laughed, and it was so cold and emotionless, it chilled even my own spine.

"Surprised to see me?" Her voice held a mocking lilt to it and one eyebrow was raised.

"Maria. What, so you've come to exact your revenge on me? After so many years?" He asked. She smiled at him

"No, of course not. I have no intentions of laying even one finger on you. I just wanted to see how my old friend was doing on the throne he stole." He sighed and suddenly loosened up, letting his full weight drop into his hand braced on the desk. I almost felt pity for the man as I watched him seemingly give up. Almost.

"No more games Maria, please. You have no idea all the factors that went into my decision-"

"You betrayed me! We promised, Phoenix. You promised. And then you nearly killed me, and for what? This? It's pathetic Phoenix, it is." He swiped at his forehead with his free hand and looked back at her.

"You were going to betray me, don't act like you weren't, you were being shifty-"

"It was your fucking birthday Phoenix. Bold of you to assume I was going to betray you instead of thinking about any other possible solution. But then, I never could trust you to think through things." He visibly flinched and they stood there for a moment. Maria's sweet smile had become a glare and I did not envy the man. Maria didn't swear, that's how you know she's really angry. When she starts to curse. She slowly began to put her hands down, putting on the soft face I'd seen her use before. About halfway down, her fingers twitched closed and I began to move slowly toward him, knife drawn.

"I'm not here to hurt you Phoenix. I'm sad for you. You've gotten soft, and it was only a matter of time before someone came to kill you."

"Wait... so... are you offering to protect me?" She laughed, a genuine laugh this time.

"What's so-" he cut off with a shriek as I slid the knife into his back. He stumbled forward, reaching for her and then fell forward. His face hit the floor with a satisfying crunch. I flipped the handle of the knife over and reached to hand it to Maria. She just stared at it.

"He made it sound like you wanted the throne so, here. You kill him and you take the saber." She shook her head and pushed my hand back toward me gently.

"This isn't for me anymore. I found something I want more than this." She smiled at me and I smiled back.

"Well then, shall we take this organization over with just one simple murder, my love?" She nodded and I flipped him over onto his back and slid the knife across his throat.

"There. It's done." Something clanged behind us. I turned to see a sleek saber, it's blade blacker than any night I'd ever seen. I picked it up, smiling again at my girlfriend.

"Let's go let them know who their new queen is." I said, taking her hand and striding out the door with the saber in my hand.

@fruitjedi what do you think of this? I think it'd be interesting to put the scene where Val kills Phoenix in the book. Kind of a flashback, you know? I feel like Val's part of the story is more important in the "What's been happening since she left" rather than "What's she doing now", that way Killian and Onyx can figure out what she's currently doing without it being redundant to the reader, but you can also have all their thoughts and emotions behind it?

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khalidplsstfu · 4 months

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To Be Loved Is To Be Changed

It's kinda hard to belive that quote is attributed to a random twitter user. It's even harder to believe that it's true. Every couple of months, something happens to me that alters the way my brain works, maybe forever and i never really talk about it. The situation in this post is one of those situations.

A large percent of my 2023 was spent missing an ex- girlfriend. Very cliche, but also very painful. I questioned everything about the relationship, but mostly the part i played in it's disintegration. The ways in which i failed to be the lover and friend my ex needed was very heavy on my mind. which was weird because i literally never think about ways i failed. but that time spent reflecting on the days I spent being as unperturbed and unaware of my girlfriends feelings as a mostly homeless young man can be left me with me with something resembling an answer.

The reality was that like most men in my life, i put the emotions of those i care about on the back burner in favor of the results I wanted to see. Probably in an effort to protect my emotional self which had almost been beaten to numbness by a tramuatic childhood and young adult life. It's a practice i learned to use on myself, and then spread to other people as some type of barometer of how worth my time they are. Is it kind? Does it make everyone feel seen or heard? No. Did it save me from cold ravolii cans and nights using a bathroom handwarmer to stay warm? Yes.

This hardened dedication to my goals and absolute withdrawl from my emotional self without a doubt saved my life. It saved me from being a vagrant loser, another man who depends on the blessings of others to sustain his own life. But closing that door to how i felt had disatorious effects on my relationship, as i wasn't just closing the door to how I felt, but to FEELINGS in general.

"But that was then" I told myself. "Surely, with all the books i read, all the podcast and lectures and interviews with feminist rants i've consumed, i'm more ready to feel and be felt than ever. More ready to hear and be heard" At the time I was working at a shoe store where my closest thing to a work friend was a middle aged white woman who hated her husband and complained about him every chance she got. Which I gave her many, because learning from a old dude's mistakes is a big part of being a young dude. Anyway, the advice from my work buddy was very concise.

"contact her and let her know how you feel. It's the only way you'll know if she feels the same. and you'll regret it if you don't"

advice that good cant be ignored, especially if you kinda wanna do the thing you're seeking advice about anyway. so i did it. i wrote my greatest love letter ever. i was vunerable. caring. apologetic. everything i thought i was supposed to be. And surprisingly it worked. So well we hung out that night.

But something was diffrent this time. something that makes me feel that dark feeling in the pit of my stomach even as i write. The feeling that I was being mislead. being made a fool of. Too many quickly hidden phone screens and vauge answers. But like every other man, I was a fool. I said " I do not see" I was ready to bare the horror of trusting another human being with my emotions. If trust was a part of love, i was all in. After all, a life without love isnt much of a life at all.

Somehow, in my infinite stupidity, i decided to use some of my disposable income to celebrate her birthday. This was a decision so stupid i routinely beat myself up about it inside the safety of my mind. A decision so stupid the khalid that orginally met the girl in question simply would've never done it.

"Why would i spend money on a girl i barely trust" 19 year old khalid would say. And honestly that kid knew more than i'd give him credit for. But with our focus re-established, i decided to spend her birthday this year showing her how much she meant to me. I planned a day and fully funded it with the last decent check that shoestore would give me. I got two dinners and two tickets to the worst aquariam dallas has to offer and 7 grams of weed for us to smoke. All in preparation for what was a absoloutely horrible day.

Like most horrible days, this one started off relatively normal. I got high and dressed and mentally prepared to pay the debt i owe someone who i've loved for years. she showed up and was as beautiful as she always is and I started us on our way.

In all honesty the day remanined pretty good until we left the aquariam. At which point we lost the car so we couldn't return for a quick smoke after we ate. Frustrating, but instead of lumping my frustration on her i just tried to focus up and find the car. There was a very noticeable frustrated silence while we looked for the car but eventually we did find it. we smoked. and headed to applebees.

applebees. my home away from home. the home of the 4 dollar pint on friday night. in all honesty the perfect place to have your lifelong perspective altered forever, its almost like a fighting game stage in the way there's just limitless oppurtunity to see things you've never seen before. And that warm day in august, that's exactly what I saw.

In order for the events that happened that day, at that applebee's table to make sense to you dear reader, i have to provide context. Not to suck my own dick or anything, but im not a dude who just started getting pussy a week ago. I've been blessed enough to have a face that allows me to expirence the female form in a somewhat consistent way. Saying that to say, i know what it's like to be around good women. And shifty ones. And as me and my ex were having a beautiful day at that applebees table, I saw the shifty woman trademark. the ol "silence the phone and pretend they didn't see"

Now in the moment, i was salty. I felt a whole relationship's worth of mistrust and self consciousness flow through me. she kept trying to talk to me, and i tried my best to respond, but i felt like a dweeb the whole time. After all who was I in that moment? Paying for a date for a girl hiding her phone from you? Planning a day around someone not named Khalid or Khalid Jr? Putting myself in a position to see myself in these ways? what was i ?

I was changed. My first love made me a changed man.

To make a long story short, I've never been on a worse date in my life. I have to be honest and say that I found myself fighting back tears at more than one point. "You've gone soft. This would've never happened to you in 2020. Couple months alone and you lose your spine?" and more and more all played in my head as i sat in silence. At a table at one of my favorite establishments, with what i thought was the person that understood me the most, i felt completely alone. and that was enough to make me cry without being on drugs.

I don't remember how the rest of the day went exactly. I remember making a beeline for my home. saying my goodbyes. overwhelming dread. wanting privacy I couldn't have because i live in an apartment with one too many people. I remember her texting me, accosting me for my behavior. And i remember one sentence more vividly than anything she's ever said to me.

"You know, i don't really owe you anything" she says.

I was blown away. we'd spent days in love. nights looking out for each other. shared our dreams. our fears. the intricacies of our family relationships. young summers spent stealing time with each other. I felt I owed her so much. She took the time to try and see me in a way nobody else cared to. I spent so much time rationalizing her feelings. trying to empathize. and for what? did we owe each other anything? i didn't recognize the author of the messages i was reading. That was the moment that I realized that it didn't just happen to me. My love had changed her as well. I had given her the experience nesscary to guard her emotions and she had taught me to let my guard down. I don't know who made who worse. I'm scared to know in all honesty.

The story ends with me thanking her for the oppurtunity to "get her out of my system" and going about my way. I think about her often. My first love. I wish I could go back to 2019 and tell myself to make sure to enjoy every moment of her i'd have before it turns into dust. Nowadays every girl is like the new verision of my ex i met last year. Now I wonder did love make them that way as well, and if any of us can ever be saved.

#love #and #love-like #feelings

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