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moghedien · 3 months

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lae'zel, permission, and what she actually wants

the thing about Lae'zel is that she's always looking to someone to give her permission

basically her entire life up until the beginning of the game has been a fight to be allowed to live. she has to prove she's better than her peers. she has to prove that she's worthy of fighting for Vlaakith. hell, even when she was an egg, she would have had to prove she was worthy of hatching because if she'd been a bit late she wouldn't have even been allowed a chance.

she doesn't really do anything unless its what her goddess and her society allows and she'll do exactly what is prescribed. she bristles at any attempts to find a cure for the tadpoles that aren't going to the creche because that is what she is supposed to do as a good githyanki. anything else is a deviation from what is allowed, even if it might work.

so you look at her romance through that lens, it really sort of pulls everything together.

In the act one scene, she's still following the rules like a good devoted of Vlaakith. She will sleep with you one or two times if you ask her to, but will bristle at anything more than that. She's a totally typical normal githyanki after all (she isn't), and it isn't normal for githyanki to have any kind of serious romantic relationships. "love" isn't even a real thing, and is just a strange mental illness that cowards use as an excuse (all of these are things she actually believes at the beginning of the game based on various bits of banter and dialogue where she's reflecting retroactively on her previous beliefs). Straight up, anything beyond casual sex is not allowed, so she doesn't even question it as an option.

Then by the time you get to the Act 2 romance scene, Lae'zel's entire world has been upturned for unrelated reasons. She did everything as she was supposed to and nothing she wasn't and Vlaaktih betrayed her. Her entire culture and society betrayed her despite her never doing anything without their permission.

It seems like she is somewhat quick to accept that and switch her allegiance. Her entire existence was because Vlaakith gave her permission to exist, and then Vlaakith betrayed her no matter how devoted she was. So Vlaakith is a liar and she learns that Orpheus is a possible answer to solve the Vlaakith problem, so now she's committed to Orpheus.

It seems like a quick turn, but if you look at Lae'zel as someone who needs permission, then it makes more sense. Vlaakith can't give her that anymore, so she needs someone else to tell her how to live, so that becomes Orpheus, who of course conveniently isn't there to actually tell her to do anything. So she does as Voss says to try to save him and that becomes her entire life motivation. Because what else can she possibly do? She needs someone's permission to decide how to move on now.

By the time you get the Act 2 romance scene, Lae'zel is on this path, right? If you look at the actual Act 2 romance scene, its basically her asking for permission again. Not in the way you'd immediately expect, because while she is asking like, your permission to develop your relationship into something further, its not just you she needs permission from. She needs her societal expectations to give both of you permission.

To elaborate, you're a fucking wrench in all her expectations of what is right. You were supposed to be a one or two night casual fuck, and then she went and got fixated with you. She calls it an obsession. She says its bothering her more than Vlaakith's betrayal, more than her people hunting her, more than the worm in her head. Those are all problems that she has some instruction on how to address. You, she has no fucking clue what to do about. Rebel githyanki aren't exactly giving instructions on how to pursue romantic relationships with people while planning on how to take down Vlaakith. Even if they are more lenient and accepting of those kinds of attachments (which we have no idea if they are or not), she hasn't been around any of them long enough to figure that out.

In her feelings for you, she's confronted with feelings that to her culture are perverse and which she has no societal context for. Even if there was someone who might give her the go ahead to pursue that relationship, she has no idea who they might be. She's someone who's entire life has revolved around what she has permission to do within her society, and she finds herself drawn to do something that she has no way of even figuring out how to approach in an acceptable way.

And despite all of that, and all the complications around what asking more from you would mean from a githyanki standpoint, she still gets to a point where she wakes you up in the middle of the night and begs you to do something about it.

She's frantic and confused and its clear she doesn't even really know what she wants from you, so she asks you to prove yourself and fight her. Its not because she thinks you're too weak for her. She admits she finds you strong the first time she comes onto you. Alternatively, she basically negs you after having sex with her by calling you weak and a coward and she is more than pleased to have sex with you again after doing so. Strength or weakness has nothing to do with why she needs you to fight her.

She needs you to fight her because that's how she's always had to prove herself worthy of existence. Her entire life has been a series of peers and comrades she had to fight in order to prove that she could go on. So when she doesn't know what else to do about you and there's nothing else to tell her how to proceed, she needs you to fight and prove that you (and her) can go on.

But the thing about the duel you have, is that the outcome doesn't actually matter. Regardless, it does give her what she needs to know to go on your relationship, but not in any ways she expected. Regardless if you win or she does, she gets overwhelmed and realizes that she wants you and she wants you to want her. Something definitely starts to shift in her mindset after the fight.

If you win, she's alarmed by the contradiction that she should feel ashamed for having lost. If you lose, she's alarmed by the contradiction of feeling no joy in having beaten you. She realizes that she doesn't want to be doing the thing she's supposed to do (fight to prove her worth) and instead wants to protect you. She also says that she wants you to protect her, which is something that she only says if you lose the fight, which I think is notable and makes the shift a bit more obvious.

Because she only says it if you lose. You lost. You just showed you were weaker than her. And she still wants you to protect her. By all githyanki standards, you shouldn't even be worthy of living if you couldn't win the fight, but she not only doesn't want to see you hurt, but she wants you to see that she doesn't get hurt. Not only should this not make sense because you lost, but it is maybe the first time Lae'zel has admitted she doesn't want to have to rely only on her own strength. She wants to rely on you, even if you're weaker and couldn't beat her in a fight. That challenges everything she has ever believed in her life probably as much as being betrayed by Vlaakith did.

If you win the fight, she doesn't admit that, but I think the sentiment is still there. It just isn't something that she has to directly confront in the moment because you proved that you can protect her. In that instance, she's coming to terms more with the fact that she should feel weaker or ashamed but isn't. In either instance, she was asking for permission from her ideals on how to deal with the You problem. In either instance, she's confronted with something that challenges that. Either you fail to meet the expectations she thought she had, and she finds out she doesn't care, or she fails to meet the expectations of a githyanki soldier and she finds out she doesn't care. Because either way, she figures out she wants you more than she wants to be the good githyanki that does what she's supposed to and act like she's supposed to act. Being "obsessed" with you should be perverse and wrong, but she embraces it whether she has permission (from her society) to do so or not. That is an extremely big deal.

And even before we get into Act 3, there are some interesting beats here about Lae'zel's romance in Act 2 still. One of the two things I want to discuss is the kissing. After the main Act 2 romance scene, you get new dialogue options, including asking her to kiss you.

This is kinda where we get into my opinions on the best choices to make with her romance, and I'm aware that these are my opinions and people deciding to do other things isn't incorrect. I'm pointing this out because I'm gonna start talking a lot about choices soon and which ones I think are the best thematically and from a character standpoint. They are my opinions. You are allowed to disagree. I will however be defending and arguing my opinions here. You don't have to get angry or defensive if you did something else or don't agree with my conclusions.

Now, back to kissing Lae'zel. The notable thing about asking Lae'zel to kiss you is that her initial reaction is embarrassment. It's somewhat of a turn from how she is open about talking about your sexual encounters before this. The entire fight scene, which may have ended up with the two of you making out in the middle of camp until it faded to black, was seemingly in front of everyone and she had no concern about that.

Kissing just out of the blue though? She's shy about that.

Because just kissing for no reason is soft and pointless, really (and if you watch the Lae'zel kissing animations, they are all in fact very soft and sweet). You don't really need to do it. Before hand with the sex and whatnot, she fully has arguments about why that was ok and even beneficial for the overall task at hand. Soft little kissing though? There's no reason to do that unless she wants to. Hence her embarrassment.

Now, she won't kiss you in Act 2 when you ask because of her embarrassment. Not unless you persuade her to do it. You only have to persuade her once and if you succeed, the first time she is clearly nervous and looks around uncomfortably. In all honesty, it seems somewhat uncomfortable to persuade her especially given her initial reaction. I do, however, think its the best thing to do for her.

Yes, she's uncomfortable. She's uncomfortable with your entire relationship now because she's has no experience even knowing about a situation like this and from a githyanki standpoint, affectionately kissing in public for no reason is basically outing yourselves as being perverts. She also very, very clearly wants it. The way you persuade her, is by pointing out that she probably wants this. And if you succeed in pointing that out to her, she is smiling and afterward when you ask her to kiss she is clearly happy and very soft about it all.

If you don't persuade her, I believe you can still kiss her without the check if you wait until after the Act 3 scene, so she is clearly comfortable with it at some point. Persuading her might seem like you're pushing her past her comfort zone. That's honestly why I didn't do it for a while. But looking at how she reacts after the fact and what happens after, I do feel like its not so much pushing her out of her comfort zone. Its more challenging her to push against her initial ideas of what she thinks she should do and instead encouraging her to do what she wants. More on that later.

The other romance beat that happens in Act 2 occurs some time after the main scene in camp, when she get about as vulnerable as she's been yet. She asks you for softness. She wants to be with you and she doesn't want the rough, passionate, hedonistic type of night that has been all of your relationship up until this point. She asks for gentleness, softness, and she's terrified. She says outright that its terrifying for her to ask this and she's been working up the courage to do so.

This is meaningful in multiple ways, because its not only a sign that your physical relationship is becoming something more than just sex. Its a sign of how much Lae'zel has changed. Because Lae'zel is someone who needs permission in everything. Up until this point, we haven't seen her ask for permission, she simply waited for her betters to give it to her and denied herself if they didn't. When it was someone who isn't above her, she makes demands. She doesn't ask permission. Ever. Now she outright asking you for permission to be gentle and soft. She didn't just need to build up the courage to be soft. She needed to build up the courage to ask to be allowed something she wanted.

As I stated before, I think Lae'zel's instinct is to not take into account what she actually wants, but to just go ahead with whatever she thinks she's supposed to do. That's how she was raised and indoctrinated after all. Gently pushing against her first reactions to things allows her a chance to push against that instinct of behaving how she was indoctrinated to behave. I think her asking for a softer touch is a sign of this changing for her. The Act 3 scene is even more so.

The Act 3 romance scene is sort of the height of Lae'zel's character growth. One thing that makes me sort of sad is that I feel like you don't really get to see the fullness of her character unless you romance her. That's true with other characters I've romanced so far to some extent, but not as much as with Lae'zel.

But here you romanced Lae'zel, so you get to see her admitting how much her perceptions have changed because of you helping her see things differently. She has different perspectives and she finds beauty and bliss in things she used to find dread in. She loathed the sun, and now drags you to a roof top just to stare at it coming over the horizon (please don't stare into the sun). She finds herself liking Faerun and the colors in it. She admits all of this before she brings up what she actually wanted to talk to you about.

Lae'zel has no terms in which to describe your relationship. She doesn't know about dating (or courting) or marriage and she doesn't actually even know what the word love means. She doesn't ever say the word until six months later in the epilogue, but what she's describing to you on how she feels is without a doubt love and what she's asking of you is more or less marriage. She doesn't have the terms or any cultural context to make it easier to ask, but she wants you to stay with her, whatever happens. That's the only way she can really describe it. Staying with her. Because even if you've only actually known each other a short time, you might be the most constant thing she's ever had in her life, and she's probably terrified of what it means when the Absolute is dealt with and there is no mission keeping you together. She isn't asking for permission now to stay with you, but is asking for you to stay with her. Where you might be and doing what, who knows, but she is for the first time just pursuing something she wants that she hasn't been given explicit permission for beforehand.

And then, we get to saving Orpheus.

This is where my thoughts might get controversial, but as I said, you're free to disagree but I'm arguing for my ideas here.

I'm not sure how any of this changes if you go a different route in the final parts of the game, so I can really only speak on the options you get if you saved Orpheus and he became Illithid.

So you do the thing that Lae'zel has been lead to believe she needs to do and free Orpheus. I personally cannot blame the man's attitude given his being imprisoned for who the fuck knows how long and the fact that he is still willing to sacrifice himself. However, it is clear that he is perhaps not quite as understanding as Voss lead you to believe he would be. Given that he tells you that you should have let his guard kill you if you were actually on the same side as him, which notably would have doomed everyone and lead to the Absolute's victory. But again, centuries of imprisonment, we cannot blame the guy.

The point I want to make with bringing that up at all, is that, even in these little bits of conflict that don't really amount to anything in game, its a crack in the ideal of Orpheus. He isn't every grand thing that Voss promised you and Lae'zel he would be. He's not bad here and gives us no reason to think he is, but its a crack. Lae'zel didn't have any reason to doubt Vlaakith or see her imperfections until it was too late, after all. I'm not saying the two are equals, but Lae'zel went from worshipping an evil false-goddess to holding up that goddess's enemy in similar reverence in a shockingly short amount of time. The girl jumped from a cult that worshipped one powerful figure to a radical rebel movement that held up another. And we immediately see little tiny cracks in the facade of Orpheus.

Lae'zel won't. Lae'zel doesn't know how to be anything but utterly devoted to the highest figure of authority she sees as worthy to follow. Lae'zel won't know to be wary. But you should be wary as fuck about what Orpheus is going to ask of her.

Cut to the end. We win, the absolute is defeated, yay! Mind Flayer Orpheus is asking Lae'zel to kill him and take up his mantle and lead his rebellion against Vlaakith.

In that moment, you have really two options. Technically there are multiple dialogue options, but really there are two. You can let her go (and potentially go with her) or you can persuade her to stay. If you tell her to do what she wants, she and you will leave on dragons to fight the rebellion against Vlaakith.

I do not think this is what Lae'zel wants.

When Orpheus is giving her this duty, she doesn't look happy about it. She just finished the single most traumatic event of her life, which turned everything upside down and completely shook who she is as a person. Now she is being handed what she had said she wanted. The means to free her people and defeat Vlaakith. She has a silver sword. She's being given not one, but two red dragons. And she just looks fucking sad. She looks exhausted as Orpheus is commanding her to do this.

She is someone who has never lived a life where she was able to want her own goals or life. She was Vlaakith's. Now she's being ordered to carry Orpheus's legacy. And I do believe she wants to stop Vlaakith and save her people from her control. But she is being given all of the burden of doing so and commanded to begin immediately upon completing her previous ordeal.

Lae'zel has been following orders her entire life. She isn't one to even consider what she actually wants and instead does what she thinks she's supposed to do. So when Orpheus tells her to do this, she is going to obey the authority figure like she was been indoctrinated into doing. When you ask her what she wants, she will say you're coming with her because she's at least broken away enough to do that but not to consider that she doesn't want to go.

Gently pushing against Lae'zel's immediate reactions, as I said, is I think the way to get her honest, genuine desires. If you persuade her to stay and disobey Orpheus, she does seem suddenly energized. She will then say that her destiny is not for Vlaakith or Orpheus to decree. Her destiny is hers alone. Neither Vlaakith nor Orpheus will give her permission to do that, but you can. She doesn't obey you. You aren't an authority figure and you have probably shown yourself to be weaker than her at several points in the game. But you still give her permission to choose her life and she accepts that.

And this, is how you break the Lae'zel out of the cycle that she finds herself. in. The only way she isn't perpetually bowing down to some authority figure is if she stays in Faerun. Because she escaped the authority of Vlaakith and immediately went to Orpheus, who now she can't even escape because he's dead and she is the one holding up his legacy on his behalf. She can't choose to leave once she's accepted that responsibility, and she frankly does not look like she wants to accept that responsibility.

If she stays on Faerun, she is still fighting Vlaakith. Not only because she is literally hunting down and murdering Vlaakith's forces, but she's living completely free of Vlaakith's influence in a way she couldn't otherwise. She isn't living under Vlaakith's rules, nor having to live in direct antagonism to Vlaakith's rules by forming a new society from scratch for the githyanki. She's just living. Occasionally going and massacring Vlaakith's soldiers as a means of survival, but otherwise just living how she wants and with who she wants. And in theory, she could go and join the rebellion proper any time in the future. If she stays, her future isn't certain, and that, I think, is the best thing for her.

In the epilogue, if you are with her on Faerun, its clear she doesn't really let herself rest still. She busies herself (and you) by tracking down Vlaakith's forces to eradicate, and she tells you of another one she found, noting that she can't rest for long. You have the option to push against this gently, suggesting taking some time off. No persuasion needed. She not only agrees to take some time off, but she immediately has a vacation suggestion which she has clearly been looking into and is excited to check out. But Lae'zel is not someone who is going to consider what she actually wants. She's going to suggest what she thinks she should be doing, but with some gentle push back, will let you know what she actually wants.

Because you're not really rejecting her ideas when you push against the instincts that have been indoctrinated into her. You're giving her permission to decide what she wants to do, and Lae'zel is always someone looking for permission.

#oops I accidentally wrote an essay about lae'zel its 3.8k words here it is #lae'zel #laezel #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3

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alkaisen · 2 months

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𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 — william j. moriarty

: william james moriarty x fem!reader, angst, comfort at end

: warnings — assassination, gore, reader kills her ex-'friend'

: time has passed, the betrayal felt in your heart has softened, and yet it all comes crashing down like a house of cards when you meet your once 'dearest friend' again. her, now a corrupt noblewoman: you decide to take matters into your own hands. but what will that exactly entail?

tonight's show was a pleasant affair — after reading about the performance at the opera tonight via the papers, you just knew you had to go (and take the love of your life). and of course, william being the devoted lover that he is, how could he refuse that excited face of yours? that gleam in your eyes and that enthusiastic smile on your face?

"i hope you're not too cold, my dear." he whispers, leaning in closer to you. the two of you are in your own private box, seated on plush velvet seats and looking over at the stage where the actors perform beautifully.

you shake your head. "no, i'm not." you smile at him. "i'm feeling warm. very comfortable." you pull the coat william offered you further closer to yourself, rubbing the fabric with your fingers absentmindedly. you're more than grateful he's here with you. after what occurred with your friend all those years ago, your emotions have been on a rollercoaster since, you couldn't help it. it's followed you throughout your life, has made you distrusting of others — you name it.

but william stayed, all throughout the rough times and the difficulty you'd been experiencing. his love never faltered.

"that is good." he nods, acknowledgingly. "...look over there."

and your eyes travel forwards to the stage, a flurry of lights; now lit softly like feathers dancing in the air. and for a mere second the entire opera, previously dim, is lit with it's luminance. it was beautiful, dazzlingly bright and had everybody's lips parting. but in that split second, when the lights shone down upon the audience, that was when you saw it. saw her. the muscles in your body froze instantly.

and william could tell something was wrong, especially when he saw you go pale and how your fingers tightened around the armrests. he puts a comforting hand on your arm, "darling... are you alright? what's wrong?"

it's like you're unable to speak, your mouth refuses to open. so william takes the initiative instead, his gaze follows your own to look where your eyes are so stuck upon. he sees it, sees her. you'd talked about her before, this person who'd ruined the majority of your childhood and teenager years. he instantly becomes sympathetic, caresses your cheekbones that are sweating with the back of his fingers.

olivia. it was her — the woman who'd stolen your inheritance and destroyed your name.

"do you wish to head home?"

this woman, she had married a nobleman. both the spouses were very corrupt and treated those of lower stations than them harshly — meaning they were already on his kill list. but the assassination can wait for another time, he thought. his priority right now is getting you away from her.

you feel a droplet of sweat on the back of your neck and it frustrates you to no end. you thought you were over this, had healed from whatever scars she'd left on your heart. was it fear you felt? or anger over the fact that she was still able to command these emotions out of you? this fear?

"...i," you begin slowly.

william leans in further, prods you on carefully. "yes?"

you inhale sharply, make an effort to compose yourself and part your lips: "i... want her life, william."

"..."

now it's his time to freeze, never did he think he'd have to hear you saying that before. but he understands, this was the extent to how deeply she'd hurt you. he takes his time thinking before eventually answering. "alright," he leans in and places a kiss on your forehead. "anything you wish for."

you stir awake to the sound of fabric shuffling. with some effort, you sit up in bed. it's the middle of the night so you have to blink multiple times for your eyes to get used to the darkness that surrounds you. "mmn-.. william?"

the fabric stops shuffling for a mere second, as if to confirm that you'd called out his name. "you're awake?"

you nod your head, and wonder if he can even see with how dark it is. "you're leaving?" you don't ask where he's going, you already know the answer to that.

"yes, louis is going to groom the horses for a bit before we head out." you hear the sound of footsteps nearing you. the next thing you know, he's placed a soft kiss on your nose. he pulls back. "i'll be back soon.. wait for me in your dreams?"

you smile at that. "alright."

and just like that, as immediately as his footsteps came over, they disappear just as quickly, leaving you in the dark.

you shift to the edge of your bed once you hear him gone, you feet dangling off the edges. there's a grim expression on your face. you've already set your mind to it:

you're going to be the one to take her life. no one else.

living with william james moriarty meant being able to plan things meticulously was a given. and you, too, had picked it up. the ornate wall sconces cast long shadows as you slip through the hallway of the manor. though your breathing comes rapid and shallow, your footsteps make no sound as you steal towards the bedroom at the end of the hall.

in your clenched fist is a slender blade, the steel catching the flickering light as you progressed. too long had you carried the scars of betrayal — tonight, the debt would be repaid in full. reaching the bedroom door, you pause to steady your nerves. beyond lies the woman who ruined your life, who left you broken and destitute after ruining you.

olivia's crimes had gone unpunished for far too long under the protection of wealth and status. no more. you push the door open with a gentle creak, entering the bedroom as soundless as a wraith. moonlight streams through the windows, illuminating the four poster bed. there, tangled in silken sheets, lied olivia asleep - oblivious to her doom.

you steel yourself, approaching on light feet. you gaze down at olivia's slumbering form, at the perfectly sculpted face that had smiled so sweetly while engineering your downfall. and your hands start to shake, the knife trembling, as a storm of emotion swirls within — hatred, fear, vengeance.

no longer will you let these emotions control you, no longer will you let her control you. her death will provide you salvation and peace, you were sure of it.

yet in is in that moment that olivia stirs, eyes fluttering open to lock with your own across the bed. a gasp of shock escapes olivia's lips as recognition dawns. "you..! what are you doing here—" she breathes, starting to sit up.

but you are too swift. the blade flashes silver in the moonlight as it comes arching down towards olivia's exposed throat. there is a wet sound, a hissing gasp, and suddenly the sheets are staining crimson. olivia's body spasms once, hands grasping uselessly at the knife lodged in her neck before eventually going still. chest heaving, you stare down at the corpse, feeling.... nothing.

why was it so? why did you not feel the satisfaction you thought that you would feel? there is nothing — no relief, no catharsis, only emptiness and disgust. at yourself.

what did you do? what have you become?

a killer? your figure trembles as they look down at your now blood stained hands. reality sets in.

a floorboard creaks behind you and you whirl around, bloody blade trembling before you. "name—...?" it was james, eyes widening at the sight in front of him. he was supposed to be the one to take olivia's life tonight and yet,

william shortly makes his way up the stairs, now finished with assassinating olivia's husband. before even entering the room, he'd noticed the expression on james' face and the mentioning of your name. he should have taken this into account; constantly asking questions about the planning, who would be the one to take her life, when the plan would be set in action.. he stands silhouetted in the doorway, taking in the grim scene with hooded eyes.

"it is done, then." he says quietly. "are you.. hurt anywhere?"

"i—i didn't feel how i thought," you whisper brokenly. "there is no peace in this." you stagger away from the bed, wiping your hands on your clothes but you only succeed in spreading more gore. the blade falls from your hand and hits the marble floor with a clatter. your stomach roils and you clap a hand over your mouth, fearing you may vomit.

a heavy footfall announces william crossing the room. gently, he takes your arms to turn you towards him. instantly he's gathering you into your arms. you cry until you can no more, until your sobs have faded to weary silence in william's arms. he holds you tight to him, his chest hurts seeing you like this. it is heartbreaking seeing you like this.

pulling back to brush fallen hair from your eyes, he gazes down at you with affection "my dear, you have suffered more than any should," he murmurs. "let me ease your pain."

you try to look away, ashamed, but william's slender fingers catch your chin softly until your eyes meet once more.

"i will gladly bear the weight of your sins, (name)," william continues, "that guilt... let me take it. from this moment forth, consider olivia's death mine and mine alone. you need not dwell in pain any more."

a visible tremble courses through your body at his words. "...no, i cannot ask that of you. the crimes are mine to atone."

but william smiles gently. "you ask nothing.. i give this freely, for your light is worth far more than any life i have taken." william lifts the back of your hand to his lips in a lingering kiss that is a oath and a promise all its own.

when at last he speaks again, his voice is tender: "let me bear your sins, (name), and allow me to find what small peace i can in easing your heavy burden. say you will accept this from me, my love, and let your torment be no more."

"..." a sob catches in your throat, and all you can do is nod through very grateful tears. at last the shadows, although still heavy, feel lifted. it may still haunt you, but you know that william will be there for you all throughout it.

he will stand between you and your darkness, forever will.

just like he always has, and just like he always will.

"thank you."

#📼 — received requests #william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #william james moriarty angst #moriarty the patriot angst #yuukoku no moriarty angst #mtp x reader #ynm x reader #mtp angst #ynm angst

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justwinginglife · 1 month

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Always You

Based off of the song "Dream" by one of my fav artists ever, Keshi. Definitely check him out if you don't know him, his songs are so good.

There was a limit to how much one could lie to themselves, how much one could distract themselves. And Soshiro was hitting his.

He'd been dating the same woman for 5 years, and they were a happy 5 years. They were filled with love and adoration. Communication was never an issue. Romance never died, he made sure of that. He'd take her out for a date at least once a week, even despite both of their busy schedules. And the sex- the sex was great. It was the perfect relationship. Or it would've been. But it wasn't you.

She had finally given him an ultimatum- he needed to marry her or take his indecisive ass elsewhere.

For 5 years, he thought he could do it. He imagined marrying her, giving her kids, chasing them through the backyard, teaching them how to drive, walking them down the aisle. He knew if he married her, she'd be the best wife. She'd be supportive, be encouraging, be strong, be gentle, be everything he needed her to be exactly when he needed her to be it. And he wanted to need her. He wanted to want her. But she wasn't you.

He did end up buying a ring eventually. But when he pictured himself getting down on one knee, it wasn't her that he imagined gazing down at him fondly in his dreams. It was you. You, holding your hand out to him, all giddy as he slides the ring on you. You, calling everyone you know, to tell them you just got engaged to the love of your life. You, kissing him incessantly as he picks you up and spins you around and around in happy circles.

He never told her about all the times he thought of you, of course. You were a ghost from his past. It wasn't even like he thought about you all the time. He was a good man, he would devote his entire self, or he would try to at least, to one person for the rest of his days. And right now, that person was her. But some nights, when the drink hit a little too hard, when he was a little too alone, he'd think of you. You were a nightmare, come back to haunt him. But you were the most gorgeous nightmare he'd ever seen. It killed him to fight off the mirage of you. But he'd do it for her. He'd push the image of you away so many times that he'd hope he'd forget what you looked like.

But his lips couldn't forget what yours tasted like, even after all these years. He couldn't forget the crinkle of your eyes when you smiled. Couldn't forget the sight of you laid beneath him. Couldn't forget the sounds you made. The sounds he coaxed from you. It seemed like all he did to forget you just provoked your ghost to keep appearing.

At first, he could just lose himself in her. She did make him happy after all. He didn't have to be stuck on you, didn't have to even remember you. But the more she talked of a future with him, the less he wanted that future with her. And then, more and more, he'd begun to think of you so frequently that he didn't even recognize the woman beside him in bed anymore. It wasn't something he could fight, because he had tried to fight these feelings before, but this time it was a fast-acting poison. It was something that had taken hold of him, paralyzed him before he could even remember how to struggle.

She'd tell him where she wanted to honeymoon and instead, he'd remember all the vacations he'd taken with you in the past, all the little slices of paradise he'd been privy to just because he was with you. He could find paradise in a shitty back alley somewhere if you were with him. But you weren't with him anymore. She was. She'd tell him about the house she wanted to buy, and his ears just wouldn't hear her. He'd remember instead how you told him you didn't care what kind of house the two of you shared as long as you could raise up a garden nearby. And when she told him she hoped he'd give her sons, he thought about how you always wanted daughters. You'd even picked out all their names already, you were so sure you were going to be the one for him. He was sure you were going to be the one for him too.

How did it come to this? How could happiness land itself in his lap and yet be unrecognizable if it wasn't you? She was everything he'd ever wanted. He wanted her to be the one so badly. But she wasn't. It was you. It was always only ever you.

When he fidgeted with the ring box in his hand, contemplating how to tell her he couldn't marry her, he noticed that even the ring he'd chosen was for you. It was gold. She hated gold. But you loved it. He wasn't sure how he'd gone into the shop with her in mind and came out with something that could only be for you.

Suddenly, he felt he deserved the gaping hole in his heart that came from losing you. Every stabbing pain, every aching regret, he deserved them all. He didn't deserve to be happy. He felt like such a terrible person, forcing someone (a good someone, a kind someone) to waste half a decade on him when his heart had only ever been yours to begin with.

Of course, he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been happy with her, after all. How could he know that you'd still have a chokehold on his heart? That you'd still visit him in his dreams, in his lowest moments, in the darkest of nights. That even when his mind told him he'd moved on, his heart stayed rooted in place. He thought he'd at least given her something of himself, even just a little bit, after all these years, but now he knew that every single part of him was always only ever yours.

And now that he knew, now that he remembered what you were to him, what you are to him, he didn't ever want to stop thinking of you. Didn't want to lie to himself anymore, or pretend. He didn't want to know a version of himself that wasn't yours.

So he finally set her free, and set himself free in the process.

#kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina #anime #oneshot #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader

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shit-taster-connoisseur · 6 months

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fav ship / character and least fav ship / character? 🙏🙏🙏

favorite ship:

who couldve seen this coming?/j

read more as it's just me taking any excuse to yap BDJD

honestly, how talk abt them to friends sometimes arent my actual characterizations of their dynamic/relationship. But really they're spinning in my head like a microwave everyday, so my interpretation of them of them generally change depending on settings, aus, or just my mood.

The thing that draws me to them is the fact that Fanny seems like a loyal solider(quite literally), but to where she'd definitely throw herself off a cliff for her leader/command(for rachel only really.) Meanwhile Rachel is pretty oblivious to the length Fanny would go for her – and visa versa. They're devoted to each other, yet are scared to repair their fractured friendship at the same time(mostly on fanny's side).

Honestly idk how to explain it xjsb

also the fact Fanny was Rachel's runner up for her GOT fuels me everyday, cause besides this moment, we don't really get too many moments where rachel isn't pissed at fanny for reasons.

could just be her being harsh as it comes with a leader, cause welp, fanny does fuck up a lot. But with these interactions you'd think Rachel wouldve considered ANYBODY else – besides nigel – for her second choice. so 1000000000% rachel had to have ALOT of trust in Fanny to place her as a second in command of an entire global organization, despite her trackrecord of botched missions(which, honestly i believe is why Nigel had been Rachel's first choice, because while nigel had seen mostly sucess in his teams' mission, fanny had gotten the short end of the stick and just faces failure after failure from what we've seen.)

uhhh anyways!! Fanny fell first(unknowingly) amd by the time they become teenagers, Rachel ends up falling harder and depressingly misses her GOT while she's suffering in TND orientation.

TLDR: a shitty anaylsis(barely) on how loyal moonbabes are to one another and they have trust!! I'm not normal about them

If ur curious abt my ranking for ships than here ya go:

1. Moonbabes

2. Lizzie/10

3. Wally/Kuki

4. Kuki/Fanny(or alternatively; Fanny/Kuki/Rachel)

Favorite character?

It's technically split down the middle between Rachel and Fanny, but my focus usually flipflops. So this week we got:

1. Rachel

2. Fanny

3. Chad

4. Cree

5. Negative 362 and Negative 86

Rachel: for reasons, honestly, I loved her since i was a kid. There's a lot to disect about her, and i love that, love her position, her personality, the kind of the role she plays, etc etc idk how to explain any of jt, or the specfics so you get this short ass summary instead

-also headcanon: her relationship with Harvey is rather strained, so Rachel tries to make it up to him by favoring him when it comes to mission assignments when he joined the KND, he also struggles to get her approval by completing them

Fanny: ashamed to admit, i cannot sit through a fanny episode withoht needing to pause and pace around – but like rachel, i like pretty much everything about her, she's interesing to disect as so much of her background is left up for interpretation. Like why did ahe join ths decommissioning squad? Why is she the way she is? Because of the decom squad or her time as a nurse, or just life in general bxns?

-headcanon: Her real name is Francine, and Fanny's a nickname because she thought it sounded less mature and didnt put too much thought in it's meaning in Ireland cuz she didnt live there that long (also her mother didnt have the heart to sit her down and explain it to her at her young age)

other global ops dont bat an eye to it, unfortunately Irish operatives cringe everytime they hear her name.

3. Chad is a loser. A failure. And i love him for that/j but actually, his entire character is interesting, and so much is left in the air for me to dig my teeth into and make up shit for him. One major headcanon i've convinced myself of for him is that he's related to rachel/harvey (cousins???)

-another hc: he's on the aromatic spectrum(shout to friend Amber for the idea cmdb)

4. Cree love her. I can forgive a woman of her crimes always xmsn one reason she's high up on the my list this week is she's interesting(duh), but like all the others she has so much character/info on her but little bits not filled to where i can just make up shit- canonically, i love her role, hsr character, she's an amazing villian/antagonist steals the show everytime - i'd pay warburton with my own money to write what she was like as a KND operative, she is quite skilled from the bits we've witnessed in flashbacks and in the present. One thing that runs through my mind is that Warburton in a Q&A, hinted that Cree probably wouldnt have scouted by the TND, that she was already trekking on a dark path while in the KND. BSJDB

-Headcanon: her and chad and steve have nights where they just hangs out and they watch stuff on Adult Swim. She probably likes South park

5. -362 and -86, got nothing to abt thene beyond they're silly(and possibly evil)

Least favorite Character/Ship

To be honest, i got no hate towards any of the characters in KND, they're all really interesting in their own way.

If i had make a tier list tho-

He'd be at the bottom. Only because he'd definitely call me a slur/j

And for ships, i'm not a multi shipper but i'm neutral to most.

tho fanny x a man will kill me, Cuz man, idk how you can look me straight in the eyes and tell me she's not lesbian,

Just LOOK AT HER

Thank you for the ask!!

#knd #kids next door #moonbabes #cree lincoln #chad dickson #rachel mckenzie #fanny fulbright #six's thingies

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abigailmoment · 9 months

Text

Astarion frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Mn." Tav shook her head and the expression smoothed away as she looked up at him. "The wine may be off."

"No. It's trash, but it's fine," he told her. "Why are you upset?"

She paused in that way she sometimes did in conversations--like she was deliberating between options and deciding which one would best suit her goals. It was often the precursor for amusement when she did it to other people, but it was irritating when she did it with him.

"It's feelings," she said, as if she were warning him.

Astarion shrugged. "So? You only talk about feelings with druids? Pretend I'm Halsin. I could stand on top of a chair if it would help."

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

"Naive am I?" Tav asked, her eyebrows raised so high up that they were in danger of crowding her horn-stubs.

"It's just that you have a...big heart," Astarion said tactfully. "You like doing what's right."

Which was just a different way of saying naive. The woman was physically incapable of walking past a sob story without interfering with it in some way. It was the most absurd way to live life. She'd be intolerable if all her other energies weren't devoted to the far more admirable dual purposes of making money and having fun.

Case in point, they'd just finished ransacking the Last Light Inn for every bottle of wine the imp-children weren't supervising. Now they were on the second floor, sitting at one of the less-cobwebbed tables. They were sharing a bottle of Plum Fizz, which was utter garbage. They'd chosen that one because the others were nice years that might be sold well, and also Tav hadn't believed him about what utter garbage the stuff was.

Astarion had stirred his latest donation into his cup, and it made the vintage borderline palatable. Though privately he thought Wyll would pair much more nicely with elderberry wine.

"So I was thinking," he continued. "What would be the right thing to do when we get to Moonrise towers? When we come face to face with whoever's controlling the parasites?"

"I'm guessing you have an opinion," Tav observed, leaning back in her chair.

"Well think about it," he prompted. "How many people have the mind flayers infected? Hundreds? Thousands?"

"Probably hundreds," Tav guessed. "It's an involved process."

"Hundreds then." Astarion conceded a little of his daydream to reality, but only a little. "And they're not just goblin trash. There are powerful people in the worm's thrall."

"Sure," said Tav.

"Whoever's waiting for us at Moonrise Towers controls it all. But what if we can take that control from them?"

"Mm," said Tav.

"I'm just saying," he pressed. "There's an opportunity here. Imagine the entire cult under our thumb. If we can control the tadpoles we can keep ourselves safe, liberate the world from this evil, and enjoy a little world domination on the side."

He laughed a bit at the idea. It was so delightful he couldn't help himself. "You can't tell me that doesn't sound fun?"

He looked at her for confirmation. She'd gone quiet. She sometimes did that when he talked up the tadpoles. He presumed that was the kind of reticence that came paired with morals, and that it might be worn down by time and temptation.

She was staring down into her cup of wine with a tight expression. Brows drawn, mouth turned down into almost a grimace. She looked ill.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Mn." She shook her head and the expression smoothed away as she looked up at him. "The wine may be off."

"No. It's trash, but it's fine," he told her. "Why are you upset?"

"It's feelings," she said, as if she were warning him.

Astarion shrugged. "So? You only talk about feelings with druids? Pretend I'm Halsin. I could stand on top of a chair if it would help."

He lost her to sniggering for a moment. When she'd finished laughing at his objectively hilarious joke, she spent another moment considering responses. Then she gave him a 'you asked' look and started talking.

"When I was in my early twenties I learned Charm Person." She was tracing the rim of her cup around and around with her fingertip. "And it was the only spell I cast for like, six months. It was like playing an easier version of life. It made everything manageable. Everyone tractable."

"There were a lot of long term consequences to that. The worst was I permanently fucked up my relationship with my sister." Tav tilted her cup almost to spilling. "She was a year younger than me and in her making bad decisions phase. And I could just stop her. Every time she wanted to do some idiot, dangerous thing."

"But.” Tav enunciated the conjunction so that it popped. “Enchantments that make false emotions can atrophy real emotions. By the time I figured out what I was doing it was too late. She didn't feel anything about me anymore, when she wasn't charmed."

Tav tipped her cup back upright. It looked a little like she'd wanted to let it spill. Probably to match her narrative or some dramatic thing like that. But that impulse had died under her need not to waste food.

"So I don't touch control spells." She continued. "No charms. No compulsions."

She hadn't looked at Astarion for the entire story. An attitude of shame, even though her voice was mild and steady.

"And then the mindflayer thing happened." She made vague gestures towards Astarion's head and then hers. "And now...I feel like a teetotaler with a bottle of wine hanging in front of me all the time."

She took another drink from her cup.

"Authority," she said in a tone that managed to be mocking and maudlin all at once.

She seemed to be finished. All right. He had listened. That was done. Now Astarion cast about in his mind for what you were supposed to do when someone told you a sad story and you cared about it.

...

It was depressing how shit he was at this.

She didn't seem to mind the long silence. She was staring into her cup again, swirling the cheap wine about, expression pensive and glum.

Astarion minded the long silence though. He finally landed on something to say that vaguely fit the shape of the conversation.

"Fine. Very well then, " he began. "Out of the kindness of my heart, to spare you this pain, I will be the one to take control of the Absolute cult."

She didn't spit up her drink, but that was only because it hadn't quite made it to her lips before she started laughing.

"Oh my Gods," she said breathlessly, a minute later. "No, you racist, squirrel kicking, sociopath. You'd better be actually joking because no one is letting you do that. I am in fucking love with you and I would never let you do that."

Astarion was gearing up to get catty, perhaps even angry, about the first part of that statement. Then the last sentence happened and it was like being struck by a very soft bolt of lightning. It jangled something in his head, and left him feeling numb and strange and a little warm.

That was wrong. That wasn't how things worked. Feelings weren't supposed to be warm like that. He wasn't a thing that produced warmth. What was this?

Tav was distracted, squinting at the bottle of plum fizz to gauge how much was left. Which was good because Astarion had even less of an idea than usual what his face looked like right now.

As he watched her, Tav smiled in that particular way that he was beginning to recognize as an expression that happened right before she said something intended to goad him.

Then she said: "We can put Wyll in charge."

"Absolutely not," said Astarion, snapping out of his confusing reverie by the need to object to that unconscionable idea.

"Ha!" said Tav, finally looking up at him. "Absolute-ly not."

"Don't start," Astarion said warningly. She could become absolutel--completely insufferable with puns if it wasn't cut off quickly. This wanted a distraction. He considered which of their companions he'd like best as an all-powerful cult leader if it couldn't be him or Tav.

"Lae'zel," he said. He was aware it wasn't the right choice, but it was the one he liked.

Tav snorted. "Sure. Never much liked Faerun being intact and at peace. Why not?"

"Gale," she suggested then, because apparently this was another game now. "He'll compel all of us to sit down and listen to him explain the distinction between radiance damage and fire damage."

"I distinctly prefer Lae'zel," Asterion said. Then inspiration struck. "No. Wait. We're both wrong. Karlach."

"Shit. You're right," Tav said immediately. "Karlach for cult leader. World domination. World dominatrix."

"She does look good in leather," Astarion admitted.

"Truth," said Tav. "Great. I'm glad we resolved that."

Astarion swirled the dregs of his spiked-wine about in his cup. He was putting off finishing it because that would be the last of his blood for the day.

"I am serious about the power," he told her. "It's not often the universe hands you something like this. I don't want us wasting it."

"We won't," Tav promised. "We're going to take them for all we safely can. And we're going to make a lot of powerful allies on the way. And if we do find the macguffin that lets us take control of the cult, I'm seriously now considering the pros and cons of Karlach being the one to use it. That might be the plum fizz doing the thinking, but I am currently letting it."

"Macguffin is a theater thing?" Astarion clarified dryly. Tav's incomprehensible nonsense words were usually theater things.

"Yes," she confirmed. "A magic object in a story that lets you do exactly the thing you want to do. They don't usually exist in the real world so don't hold your breath."

He gave her a significant look. She laughed.

"Or hold your breath if you want to, I guess, vampire privilege. You won't. Because it would also involve refraining from talking."

He tossed his head disdainfully and distinctly didn't respond. She laughed again.

The conversation hadn't gone precisely as he wanted, but he was fairly content with the results. Tav's assistance was, as always, intractably ethical and therefore conditional. But it still gave him better odds for getting something like what he wanted than just showing up and causing chaos.

It was rather nice having a friend who was a details person.

****

This is part of an ongoing story. It begins here.

Here's a list of other stories like this.

****

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #conversations you have at midnight #while drunk on plum fizz

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4townie · 2 months

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Backstory #3: Priorities

- Jihun and Dasom were both born and raised in South Korea, they knew each other throughout high school and had a very obvious mutual crush on each other for the longest

- finally on Valentine's Day, Jihun worked up the courage to confess his feelings which ofc made Dasom ecstatic and so began their relationship

- the problem is that Jihun has always been known for being very good-looking

- so when they started dating, a lot of jealous girls would talk behind Dasom's back (sometimes within earshot) about how she wasn't pretty enough to be going out with a guy like that and kinda also plotting to present themselves as a better option

- it didn't take very long for Dasom to internalize that and start to feel like she wasn't good enough for Jihun, so she broke up with him right before he left for college in the states

- and they were both absolutely miserable without each other for months

- so after Jihun's first semester when he came home for Christmas, he found Dasom and practically begged her to take him back and promised he'd do anything to make sure she knew she'd always be the love of his life

- and because she's been so empty without him, she takes him back of course

- the following year after she graduates high school she joins him in the states for college and they find that they both really love it there which is why they moved there when they got married

- getting pregnant did take a little effort, and they were derailed by Jihun returning to Korea for his military service, but finally after a few years Dasom was pregnant

- it made them closer than ever cuz they were both so excited about it

- but fast forward nine months and they find themselves with a very fussy, colicky baby

- Taeyoung required nonstop attention for the entire first year of his life tbh and it was starting to get too overwhelming

- February 1984 rolls around and they both realize they have nothing planned for Valentine's Day, they hardly speak to each other if it's not about Taeyoung, and they definitely don't touch each other of it's not passing Taeyoung off to each other

- so Jihun remembers his promise to her from all those years ago and makes sure this Valentine's Day was all about them

- it was Taeyoung's first birthday and he made it all about them

- that year is when they officially decide they're always going to put their relationship first, which to be fair isn't a bad thing because kids benefit from their parents having a strong relationship

- but they did it wrong

- for Dasom, her marriage came first and second, pushing Taeyoung down to her third priority (she would never admit this, she doesn't even realize she's doing it)

- and Jihun put his marriage first, second, and third and his career came fourth because being a doctor is very demanding (so is being a lawyer but Dasom wouldn't hesitate to prioritize Taeyoung above her job)

- this is how we ended up with the differing devotion to Taeyoung which is something he grew up feeling but never really understood up until the tour

- so when he was abandoned by his friends at that summer camp, it wasn't just the pain of rejection from his peers, it was also the subconscious feeling of not being good enough to his own parents repeating itself

- and that's how a romantic love story between two crazy kids resulted in their kid being fucked up in the head😀

#4town headcanons #4town fanfic #4town taeyoung #4town aaron t #4town z #4town robaire #4town jesse #turning red #turning red 4town #4town #4townie

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magicalrocketships · 1 year

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Doing a little digital spring cleaning tonight and I found the beginning of a Harry/Louis fic I swear I've never seen before in my life but I absolutely wrote, so it's definitely time to share. A shameless rip-off of the plot of Jilly Cooper's The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous, which is an entire novel about a hot dude being paid by women with cheating husbands to make them jealous and stop cheating. Except in this one, Louis's masterminding the whole thing. Probably. I don't actually remember writing it.

The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous (would have been Harry/Louis in the end, if I'd ever written more than... this).

"We're broke," Louis says flatly, dropping down onto the sofa next to Harry and showing him his bank statement.

"We're not," Harry says, putting down his iPad. He's been playing online bingo again, which occasionally brings in enough money to cover going to Sainsbury's and putting stuff in the cupboards. He glances at the bank statement. "Are we?"

"Broke," Louis says, and he puts his feet in Harry's lap. "We've got ten days to have enough money in my account before the rent goes out. Any ideas?"

"None," Harry says.

Time was, they could have tapped Harry's parents for a loan, but there had been a small misunderstanding and for now, that was off the table. It was no use trying to get money out of Louis's mum; she hadn't got it and Louis wouldn't ask if she did. He was utterly devoted to her and wouldn't take a penny. "What happened to that TV work that Ben was talking about?"

"Still happening, I think. Just not right now. Not in the next ten days."

"Do you remember when we didn't care about this stuff, and we just partied and spent what we wanted?"

"You're still like that," Louis pokes him in the thigh with his toes. "Since when has an overdraft stopped you going out?" He dropped a crumpled envelope in Harry's lap. "That came for you, by the way."

"This crumpled?" Harry asks mildly.

"It may have had a small fight with the letterbox," Louis says, since the return address says R. Maddox, and Louis has always hated Ruby, right from the moment they'd met and she'd made an immediate play for Harry, right under her husband's nose.

"Invitation to a party on Saturday," Harry says, tossing it towards Louis. "Do you want to come?"

"Pretty certain it won't say my name on that invite."

"It doesn't. I'll sweet-talk you in. There's probably going to be a free bar, her husband's loaded."

"Won't say no to that," Louis says, and that's that.

~*~

The flat Louis and Harry lived in was a cramped, tiny attic space in Kentish Town, only cheap enough for them to live in because the landlady's mum lived downstairs and bullied her daughter into not putting up the rent because Harry was so charming and would spend ages with her in the kitchen, drinking tea and flirting. Louis she had no time for, but that was mostly because the first time she'd met him, he'd been so drunk he couldn't see straight, and he'd fallen over her bin and vomited in the begonias.

It was also close enough to Primrose Hill that they could lie when asked where they lived, and frankly that was helpful when it came to explaining why they were worth knowing at parties. They had, at one point, been on the cusp of hosting these parties themselves. They'd failed to win X Factor a few years ago, and been promised a record contract anyway. They'd done the cycle of parties, the five of them that had had a band together back then, but had never truly broken past the outside perimeter. The others had faded out of London after a time, leaving Harry and Louis to continue sharing a flat and jumping from job to job.

When Harry got up on Sunday, naked underneath his dressing gown, Louis was sitting at the little table in the kitchen with his laptop.

"Have you been to bed?" Harry asks, putting the kettle on.

"For a bit," Louis says. "I've found us a way to make money."

"It's too early for money," Harry says, which is his usual approach. He'd grown up having it, so he's never tempered his lifestyle to reflect the fact that right now, they don't have it.

"Never," Louis says. "So I got talking to Ruby Maddox last night."

"You hate each other."

"We were drunk. She credits you with saving her marriage, you know."

"She slept with me while her husband was in Paris. Funny way of saving her marriage."

"Made him so jealous he stopped screwing his PR girl," Louis says. "How'd you fancy doing it again?"

"Sleeping with Ruby Maddox?" Harry looks perplexed. "Could do, I suppose."

"No," Louis says. "Her friend Georgina Meadows."

"Could I sleep with Georgina Meadows?"

"Actively not sleep with Georgina Meadows," Louis says. "Her husband's left her for his PA."

"Do I know Georgina Meadows?"

"Not yet. But you will."

"I need a cup of coffee," Harry says. "And then another one."

~*~

They take Louis's beaten-up old Golf to meet Georgina Meadows that afternoon. It barely scraped through its last MOT, so come the next one, unless money comes from somewhere, they'll be car-less again.

"Who is she?" Harry asks. "Why am I meeting her?"

"She's going to pay you to flirt with her to make her husband jealous," Louis explains. "And let me do the business side of things, you'll go in easy because she's crying or something, and she's loaded and we're broke.”

“All right,” Harry says. “Let’s do it.”

#fic that i wrote #well apparently #i don't actually remember #harry/louis 1d fic #i wonder if I actually had plans for this #or if I was just taking it out for a little ride to see where it went

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karatekels · 1 year

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Hello:) first time with an ask. I have to preface by saying I absolutely love your account and your fics and just everything about what you've created ❤️❤️ may I ask, can you write something about CK Terry falling for a 30 something young woman in an adult class? She's learning and new to karate, yet Terry sees potential and asks if she'd like to grab dinner (or have his chef cook for them), then maybe "train" a little in his private dojo 😉

Thank you so much for your comments – they make my heart sing and make me blush horribly. I’m happy to write this for you – enjoy! ❤️

Shoutout to @terrysilv for helping me brainstorm some ideas for this!

---

Legacy

---

“Asa!” you cry out, the kiai escaping your lips in a short grunt as you lay into the punching bag with your fists and feet, the bag supported by your sparring partner. “Ya! Isa!”

“Okay okay!” your partner exclaims from behind the bag after awhile. “Jesus Y/N, you’re gonna knock me on my ass – can we take a break?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the bag, helping the man up before moving to your bag to get a drink of water. You were here to put the work in, and intended to do so the entire time, not wanting to waste even a minute.

You had been training with the Cobra Kai dojo for a few months now, and had gotten good; very good. You knew you were rather late to the game, starting to learn karate in your early thirties, but you were determined to prove yourself. You had quickly exceeded the introductory levels of the adult classes, and had worked your way up to the top of the expert class as well, having impressed the senseis of the dojo the whole way.

You didn’t like doing anything halfway – if you were going to learn karate, you were going to do it right, and not stop until you had perfected your skills.

The owner of the dojo, Sensei Terry Silver, walks past you, moving to snap at another pair of students whose form had gotten sloppy. That right there was another reason to do the best you could during these lessons; that man was likely twice your age, and incredibly fit, still able to instill fear in anyone he came across. You knew he was the best in the Valley, and you wanted to get to that level yourself. You wanted to be respected, you wanted to be able to take care of yourself, and karate was the perfect avenue to get you there.

Returning to your punching bag, your partner represses a sigh, bracing himself against the bag once more.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry glides past you, his feet silent on the training mats as he moves to scold a pair of students who were goofing off yet again. Really, how the majority of these people were accepted into the expert-level class baffled him. He’d need to talk to Kim at some point about her selection process.

There was, however, one student in particular that had been able to exceed his expectations…

He circles the dojo discreetly, positioning himself so that he could watch you, seeing you approach the punching bag for another round, fire in your eyes. Your form was perfect, and you were so graceful in your movements he found himself hypnotized.

You had been dedicated to your training since day one; he couldn’t think of anyone (other than himself, of course), who so fully encapsulated the 3 D’s: desire, devotion, discipline. He had taken notice of your beauty immediately, from the moment you entered the expert class, but had dismissed his attraction immediately. He didn’t sleep with students, and he didn’t date students, the work and romance spheres of his life remaining separate by his design.

He'd never had an issue abiding by that rule, until you’d shown up.

The better you got, the harder you trained, the more you wore down his resolve without you even realizing it. You had captivated him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen for anyone this hard. He had tried not to let his attraction for you interfere with his work – if you took offence and left, he would lose his only means of seeing you.

No, he had to play this perfectly, find an opportunity to test the waters with you, find out where you stood. Something away from here, away from everyone else, where he could turn on the charm and bring you around to his way of thinking. He was now a man past middle age; he didn’t have time to waste.

He’d have you eventually.

---

Terry waits until almost everyone else has left the dojo before approaching you. Yet another benefit to your dedication to karate: you were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. He lets you finish your cool down stretches, then walks over to you.

“Great work today, Y/N,” he compliments, savouring your pleased smile at his praise. You valued his approval; that was something, at least.

“Thank you, Sensei,” you reply, moving to retrieve your water. He follows smoothly behind you, not done with you yet.

“You’ve really improved during your time here,” he continues, determined to draw you into a conversation. “What’s driving you?”

You look over at him as you put your shoes and socks back on, considering the question. You were so contemplative, the type of person that thought things through, and he loved that about you. Everyone seemed so hasty these days, rushing headlong into situations without giving them thought, and it frustrated him to no end.

“I don’t like to do anything halfway,” you say after awhile. “If I’m going to do something, I want to do the best. I want to be the best,” you add, getting more passionate as you speak to him. He finds himself transfixed.

“I see the respect that you command around here, and I’m not a big tall guy like you, and I may never be a sensei, but that’s something I want,” you confess, looking up at him with that same fire in your eyes.

You were envious of him? You looked up to him? He could work with that.

“How do I become the best, Sensei Silver? What can I do next?”

Terry thinks about how to play this. Part of him did truly want to help you succeed; Cobra Kai was his legacy, and you were now not just part of that, but one of his shining stars. The greedy, primal part of him wants to promise you the best training money could buy if you would only become his. He settles for something in the middle.

“This dojo is really meant to cater to a group, and the lowest common denominator, even in the expert class. I don’t know if you can get the full attention that you deserve…” he begins, hesitating briefly, as though considering something, but he’s already finalized the plan in his mind.

“If you’d like, I could offer you private lessons at my personal dojo, where I could focus solely on you,” he offers, ever the generous benefactor. As if you weren’t already the centre of his attention every time you walked into the same room as him. Your eyes go wide, shining with delight at the thought.

“Wow, that would be incredible,” you breathe, and he feels his cock stir against his thigh at your excitement. While your interest wasn’t out of desire for him, it was about spending time alone with him, and that was enough to have his mind racing. Picturing you coming to his home with him had him nearly giddy.

“I just don’t think I could afford private lessons, Sensei Silver…” you say, and he resists the urge to scoff. Screw the money. This was about you, getting you, having you alone… but he had to be careful. You were fiercely independent, and proud, and while he admired and respected those traits in you he also knew to be wary of upsetting them.

“I would be happy to charge the same rate as you’re currently paying for the expert class,” he offers. “The success of my students is my main objective here with Cobra Kai. You are easily one of our best, and have clearly outgrown the expert class.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, clearly not wanting to take advantage of him, and he bites his tongue to keep from beaming at the thought.

“It would be an honour, Y/N.”

The grateful smile you level him with has his heart pounding in his chest. Were you really so oblivious about the effect that you had on him, on everyone in any room you were in?

“Thank you, Sensei. I won’t let you down.” He plans on taking that promise to its absolute limit.

“One stipulation, Y/N, if you don’t mind,” he presses, giving you a slight smile. You cock your head at him, waiting, though he gets the sense that you’ll accommodate anything he asks for.

“Allow me to speak with you once beforehand, to get a better sense of your goals and to develop a training regimen. Perhaps over dinner?”

Christ, when was the last time he had felt nervous about anything?

You blink, seemingly speechless. Terry thinks he detects the faintest hint of a blush on your cheeks, but doesn’t want to give himself too much credit.

“You want to take me to dinner?” you ask, tone slightly incredulous.

“I could ask my personal chef to cook us a meal. It would give you a chance to see the dojo before we get started.” He pointedly doesn’t address your shock at him asking you out, hoping to subtly reframe the evening as a purely professional one; he can’t have you getting cold feet, not now. He just had to get you there, get you alone, and he could win you over. The thought of training you in a dozen other things before you even get started on karate dances through his mind, and he suppresses a groan. It wouldn’t do to lose focus now; you always kept him on his toes.

“Could…could I go home and change first?” you ask, looking down at your gi. It’s strange, seeing this more hesitant, shy side of you, but he finds that he enjoys it just as much as your typical fierce attitude. And, more importantly, this wasn’t a no.

“Of course. I can have a driver pick you up in a few hours – my home is rather difficult to find if you don’t know where to look.” He knows he’s laying it on thick with the show of wealth, but he can’t contain his excitement; if he has his way, he’ll be spoiling you for the rest of his life and beyond.

“Oh, that’s… wow, alright. I guess being the best student has its perks, huh?” you joke, and he smiles encouragingly at you. You scribble down your address – as if he didn’t already know it – on a piece of paper and hand it to him.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, then?” you say hesitantly, and he’s fully enjoying your nerves, now.

“I’ll see you then, Y/N,” he replies, trying to keep the purr from his voice. You give him a shy smile as you throw your bag over your shoulder, exiting the dojo and missing the pleased grin he directs at the back of your head. Having watched you leave, Terry immediately moves to collect his own things and head home.

There was much to prepare for.

--- Reader’s POV ---

The car finally breaks through the treeline after what feels like ages, driving smoothly up to a gorgeous estate. You knew that Mr. Silver was very well-off, but to live in a place like this… then again, he was offering to train you in his private dojo, so perhaps this shouldn’t be so surprising to you.

Looking down at your hands, twisting around themselves in your lap, you hope that you’ve dressed appropriately for the evening. What, exactly, was one meant to wear to a private dinner at your sensei’s gigantic house to discuss karate? You had settled on a simple summer dress, the green complimenting your hair and skin tone wonderfully, and a pair of wedges, keeping your hair down in loose waves and your makeup simple.

The driver stops the car – having a driver, that was strange for you as well – and you nervously hop out before he can come around and open your door for you. You weren’t the Queen of England, you could get out of a vehicle on your own. He guides you up to the front door, ringing the bell, then nods to you and turns to, presumably, go park the car.

“Thank you!” you call after him, not wanting to be rude, and then you hear the door open behind you. Turning, you see an older woman at the door, smiling warmly at you.

“Ah, Miss L/N. Please come in, and I’ll take you to Mr. Silv –”

“No need, Janet, thank you. I’ll take it from here.”

Mr. Silver approaches from a room off to the left, looking decidedly more relaxed in a pair of tan slacks, a white button-up shirt and a royal blue blazer, his hair out of its signature ponytail and framing his face. You hadn’t thought it was possible for someone to appear so at home in a place as luxurious as this, but he does, and you’re happy for him. Hopefully, these private lessons from him would help you become even half as successful as your sensei.

“Welcome to my home, Y/N. I’m glad you could make it,” he greets you warmly, and you smile at him. You would not ruin this opportunity for yourself, even if you were a bit nervous about how to behave in this situation.

“Thank you, sensei, and thank you again for sending someone to pick me up,” you reply graciously.

“Sensei is reserved for training, Y/N. Please, call me Terry outside of the dojo.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, hoping to keep things straight in your head. You didn’t often have relationships with people that transcended more than one social circle; it complicated things, made them messy as the lines blurred. You didn’t think that that would happen with Terry – he was on such a different level from you in every way – but you wanted to be aware of the possibility.

“Thank you, Terry. It’s so… strange, seeing you outside of the dojo.” You want to acknowledge the difference in the setting, but think that you may have come across a bit standoffish, and try to recover. “I’m so used to the ponytail,” you joke, gesturing to his hair, and his lips twitch in amusement.

“Yes, well it doesn’t get in the way when I’m just relaxing at home. You look lovely,” he compliments, approaching you with his hands in his pockets. “I’ve just spoken with the chef, and we have a half hour before dinner. Would you like to see the dojo now, or can I offer you a drink?”

You pause to consider this, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. You didn’t want to refuse his hospitality and make it seem like you were only here for the training he would offer you by wanting to get right into the dojo, and perhaps a drink or two would help you loosen up…

“A drink would be lovely, Terry, thank you.” He smiles, gesturing down the hall with an arm, and you follow him, taking in each new room with a sense of wonder. It was all warm, comfortable, relaxed… not at all what you would have expected from viewing just the exterior of the house.

Eventually, he leads you into a parlour with a collection of liquor bottles, one wall made completely of glass, looking out onto a large balcony and the gardens below. Smiling at the dwindling sunlight streaming in through the windows, you find yourself briefly distracted.

“Wine?” Terry asks, having selected a bottle of red. You nod to him, and he seems to take a long moment to look at you before pouring two glasses. Bringing both with him, he hands you a glass, which you accept gratefully, thanking him quietly.

“Come on, I’ll show you outside,” he says, a knowing tone in his voice. He was so good at reading people, anticipating their thoughts and actions; you supposed it was a necessary skill to have, both for teaching and for karate. You smile, and follow him to the door leading out to the balcony, walking up to the balustrade to get a full view of gardens below. They were massive, seeming to stretch out forever, and were so lush and full. You sigh longingly as you take in the view.

“You get to come home to this every day?” you ask, awe evident in your tone. “It’s incredible!”

“It’s refreshing to see someone appreciate it,” Terry replies, coming to stand beside you. “I think I’ve come to take it for granted.”

“I don’t think I could ever get used to this…” you murmur. Terry is quiet, seeming content to let you take in your surroundings, the two of you drinking your wine in a comfortable silence. After awhile, a member of the staff finds the pair of you out on the balcony to inform you that dinner is ready. Following him through more spacious rooms of the home with Terry, you find yourself feeling far more comfortable than you had when you had first arrived, and couldn’t attribute it all to the wine.

--- Terry’s POV ---

The evening had been very successful so far, Terry thinks to himself as he surveys you from across the table. He can’t remember the last time he’s shared a meal with someone in his own home when it wasn’t for some business matter or another, and he finds that he has missed it.

He had been awestruck upon first seeing you at his front door; having never seen you in anything other than your gi, you were particularly striking in your soft green dress, your hair flowing down your back. You had been clearly nervous at first – hell, he couldn’t judge you for it; he was nervous himself – but had adjusted quickly, and he found himself impressed by your tenacity.

The look on your face as you had taken in sight of the garden, the sunlight illuminating you, had briefly taken his breath away. You were radiant even without the sun’s glow, but in that moment you had looked so serene he had been positively enchanted by you. He hadn’t planned on taking you outside, but he couldn’t resist giving you exactly what you wanted. He could see that happening a lot with you, should things progress the way he intended for them to.

You had opened up more once you had moved inside, telling him about yourself and asking about him in return. Ordinarily, Terry was rather cautious – if not outright reluctant – to divulge personal information about himself, but he found it easy to open up to you.

Having asked you further about your motivations to study karate, you had become more animated in your responses, speaking about your desire to make something of yourself, and to leave a lasting mark on the world. Again, Terry finds himself recognizing the similarities between you, especially in how you saw the world and your respective places in it, and he finds himself in a difficult position.

What would be the greater legacy for him to leave behind: training you to be the best and being your mentor, or pursuing a relationship with you that would, if he had his way, last as long as you both should live? He finds himself wrestling with complicated feelings, wholly unaccustomed to trying to prioritize someone’s hopes and dreams over his own.

But he had sacrificed before; he could do it again, and being your mentor would most assuredly connect your names together in history. There was something beautiful, poetic even, about that, and it eliminated the possibility of rejection, of failure. Terry decides to shift his goals again; he’s put love on the backburner his entire life, and he can do it again, at least until he’s cemented himself as a keystone to your success. He would have something that tied the two of you together, at least, and perhaps that would be enough.

He can’t help but take in the way your eyes glimmer in the candlelight with a slight smile, ignoring the slight clenching of his heart. Let him do something good and selfless for once in his miserable life.

You both finish your meal, and he offers to show you the dojo, the excited smile you give him making him ache in a way he hadn’t experienced.

--- Reader’s POV ---

After several months of intensive training, you truly felt like you were on top of the world. You felt almost as tall as Terry, your confidence having reached new heights. Terry had been incredible, working with you as often and as hard as he had, like your success was intrinsically tied to his own. You had appreciated everything he had done, and was doing for you more than you could ever say.

Having finished your session for the day, you both step off the mat, moving to get water and take a brief rest before you went home for the day.

“So, what’s next, Terry?” you ask, always excited to learn more. Terry doesn’t respond, and after a moment you look over to him seated on the bench, radiating tension.

“You know, Y/N, I’m not sure if I have anything more to teach you,” he replies, his large body caved inward slightly, like he’s being crushed by some heavy weight. You had learned to read him somewhat in your time together, and think he’s disappointed.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Terry. I don’t think it’s possible for you to run out of knowledge,” you say, smiling encouragingly, but he scowls.

“Well, I have. This is over,” he says firmly, harshly. Some of his hair has come out of his ponytail, and he’s got a frustrated, defeated energy radiating off of him that you’re not sure what to make of.

You bite your lip, debating what to do. While you had definitely become more comfortable around Terry during this time together, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself his friend. What were the boundaries of this relationship after all of this? Should you give him space or offer to listen? Throwing caution to the wind, you decide on the latter.

“Will you tell me what’s really wrong?” you ask softly, sliding closer to him on the bench, trying to coax the truth out of him. He barks out a humourless laugh, throwing his head back, before he levels you with a serious, almost cold expression.

“It’s you.”

“I…what?” you ask, confused and hurt, and he seems to burst, leaping off the bench to his feet and whirling around to face you.

“It’s you!” he repeats, getting louder, and you’re not sure which emotions you detect in his voice, only that there are many of them and that they all seem to be entangled within one another.

“I am an old man, Y/N. I am old, and I am alone. I’d come to terms with that years ago, really I had,” he rambles, words flowing quickly from his lips without much thought. He was never like this; he was like you, looking before he leaped. What had happened?

“And then you walk into my dojo, and it’s like I’m seeing the sun rise for the first time.”

You stiffen, your eyes going wide, but he’s not even looking at you right now, pacing up and down the edge of the training mats like a caged animal.

“I thought I could be professional. I thought I could be your teacher, your mentor, and that that would be enough. Then, I thought up a dozen ways to try to win you over, to sweep you off your feet, to make you see… I’ve gone back and forth so many times, and every time you’ve done nothing but draw me in deeper. I’m trying to do what’s right, harder than I’ve ever bothered to try before, and now that’s it!” He turns suddenly to look at you, his eyes wide and searching, though for what you’re not sure.

“I’ve taught you everything I could, and now there’s nothing for you here anymore. Nothing to keep you here with me.”

He looks broken, and you’re stunned into silence by his revelation. Terry had feelings for you? The very idea seemed ridiculous. He was older, wealthy, successful, talented… you had never bothered to even consider him in that way; what would be the point, since it would never be reciprocated? Thinking about it now, though…

You had admired him from the moment you met him, respecting his dedication to his craft and his students. He had shown such wisdom in the dojo, and had fascinated you with his stories and experience. Over the past few months, you had become so comfortable with each other, and you had gotten to see his humour, his kind heart, his passion… And even you had recognized from the very beginning that he was incredibly attractive, especially for a man of his age, but again, you had pushed that kind of thinking out of your mind the second you accepted that it wouldn’t do anything for you but get you distracted.

He had been supportive, generous, shared his life and his home with you, and you had come to cherish the connection you had together. What was that if not love?

Looking over at him, where he had retaken his seat on the bench, slumped in a defeated position, it’s like you’re seeing him with fresh eyes. This man had loved you, presumably for quite awhile, and instead of acting on it had been nothing but professional, putting you and your needs above his own without you even realizing it. He had sacrificed so much, and even now was only upset that he had nothing else to offer? What a ludicrous notion. He had become your everything.

Getting up off the bench, you move silently to walk around in front of him, bending to his eye level. He doesn’t even seem to notice that you’re there, his eyes closed in defeat with his head in his hands, and now you feel like the idiot for not recognizing your own feelings sooner.

Tilting your head, you lean closer to him, pressing your lips to his softly.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, staying perfectly still, and you pull back a bit, looking at his face. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, confused.

“Why would you do that?” he demands, his voice low and hoarse. You nibble your lip nervously.

“To apologize, for not recognizing your feelings,” you say, and you think you see the light leave his eyes, pain evident on his features.

“And for not recognizing my own,” you add in a whisper. His gaze snaps back to yours, intense once more.

“What…?” is all he manages to get out in a choked voice.

“I never thought you would see me in that way, Terry, so I didn’t bother letting myself see you like that either. We’re from two different worlds, you could have anyone you wanted –”

“Not anyone,” he corrects pointedly, and you take a deep breath.

“Yes,” you counter, reaching out to take one of his hands in your own. “Anyone.”

He seems to freeze again, his eyes staring past you into the distance, into nothing, and you wait, knowing he needs a moment. Sure enough, his eyes soon snap back to yours, and he slowly stands up, closing the space between you with his large body so close to yours. He reaches up slowly, as though he doesn’t want to startle you, taking your face gently in both of his large, warm hands.

“You want me?” he whispers incredulously, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You swallow.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now… Yes, Ter –”

Your confession is cut off suddenly as he pulls your face none-too-gently up to his, kissing you with a fierce joy that takes your breath away. His arms wrap around you, one at your waist and one around your upper back, hand tangled in your hair. You gasp into his mouth, hands coming up to clutch the top of his gi, pulling him down to you, overwhelmed by the desire that courses through you.

You could kick yourself for how stupid you’d been these past few months, wasting all this time together, but that would mean you would have to stop kissing him, and you’d already spent more than enough time doing that.

He is the one to break the kiss first, his blue eyes dark as he looks at you in his arms with thinly veiled wonder, and you feel your knees go weak. No one had ever looked at you like this before; you hadn’t thought that anyone ever would. You smile up at him shyly, your heart pounding in your chest. You can’t remember ever feeling this happy, this complete, standing in his arms.

“I adore you, Y/N,” he admits reverently, resting his forehead on yours. Tears spring to your eyes at his words, and he wipes them away gently with his thumb before you even realize they’re there. You let out a breathless laugh, hardly able to believe your ears, your heart singing.

“I love you, Terry,” you reply, and the smile that he gives you in return nearly brings tears to your eyes again. He scoops you up into his arms, sitting on the bench with you on his lap, kissing you soundly. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his hair, toes curling in delight. Gradually, you move to shift in his lap, straddling him, never breaking your kiss. His hands come around your hips, and you feel something primal course through you as you feel him getting hard against you.

He leans back from you, breaking the kiss again reluctantly, almost shyly.

“We don’t have to do this now, or here,” he tells you, considerate and gentlemanly as always, and you grin at him.

“It seems oddly appropriate though, doesn’t it?” you reply coyly, gazing at him with lust in your eyes. “And you’ve waited long enough, haven’t you, sensei?”

His eyes go nearly black in desire and he growls at you, taking your gi in his hands and somehow shredding the clothes off of you in his haste to get at you. You may have poked the bear a bit too much with that comment, you think to yourself as he tears your bra from your body, leaving you in only your underwear on his lap.

“I think I have more to teach you after all, my dear,” he purrs, his mouth closing around one of your nipples and making you moan, digging your nails into his scalp and clutching him to your chest.

“Please, Terry, show me everything,” you beg desperately, throwing your head back as he toys with you.

“Oh, I intend to,” he promises, picking you up and turning to deposit you on the bench, taking off his own gi. You find yourself licking your lips as he pushes his pants past his hips, whimpering as his cock is bared to you. Fuck, this man was gorgeous.

Trembling slightly, you come to stand on the bench, now almost the same height as him as you push your underwear down your legs. His arms come around you, hands gripping your butt firmly, and your knees nearly buckle, but he’s there, he’s everywhere, supporting your weight with his body.

You pull his hair out of its ponytail, tangling your fingers in it as you tug him closer to you.

“Take me, Terry. I need you,” you ask him breathlessly, staring into his eyes, reading the love in them and hoping that your own eyes reflect the same growing devotion.

Not hesitating, he takes you in his arms once more, your legs coming around his waist like they were always meant to be there, and he carries you over to the wall of the dojo, bracing you against it before gently lowering you onto his cock. You whimper as he enters you, and his eyes roll back in his head as he sheathes himself fully in your tight, wet heat.

“Oh God, Terry!” you groan, feeling so deliciously full of him, your nails digging into his back. Supporting you with his hands around your butt, he sets a slow pace of lifting you up off his cock before dropping you back down again. Slow and rough, it’s perfect, and you can’t get enough, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you moan.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, Y/N. I knew you would be,” he croons in your ear, and you’re again stunned as you recognize how long this man has desired you.

“Made for you, Terry, only you!” you cry out, lifting your head to capture your lips with his own again as you grind your hips against him, feeling deliciously sinful. The pace of his thrusts increases, as though he’s urgently needing to make you his, but you meant what you said. This man was it for you; there would be nobody else.

“Yesss,” he hisses against your lips. “My woman, my everything.” You both tighten your grip on one another at his words, like you’re wanting to claim the other even more. Your orgasms hit you at the same time, and you both cry out the other’s name in your ecstasy, your pace slowing until you’re both just wrapped up in one another. You realize you’re crying again, and he kisses your tears away as they fall.

Reluctantly, he lowers you to the ground, but keeps his arms wrapped around you, unwilling to let you go completely, and you share the sentiment, nuzzling into his chest.

“You have given me everything, my treasure,” he murmurs against your hair, kissing the top of your head, and you tilt your head up to look at him, still teary-eyed.

“So have you,” you admit with complete sincerity, and he smiles at you, stepping away to retrieve your clothes.

“Oh, you have no idea what I’ve got in store for you. We’ve only gotten started,” he promises, handing your underwear to you. He pulls the pants of his gi back on, but holds his top in his hands, taking in the scattered scraps of fabric that were your gi. Smiling at you, he approaches, wrapping his top around you and tying it to you, big enough on you to look like a full robe.

He ties the obi around your waist, taking in the kana on either end that read Sensei Silver. It seemed appropriate. He takes your hand and looks you over, hair mussed, face flushed, smiling brightly at him as you wore his gi, and feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Come with me, my dear,” he purrs, leading you to the exit of the dojo. “We’ve got some planning to do.”

---

#terry silver #thomas ian griffith #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #smut #sensei targaryen #brb made myself cry #kk3 #karate kid #the karate kid 3

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didasgomas · 24 days

Text

Don't call me that

Day 29 of @augusnippets

Prompts: Singing/First words/Inside jokes

Trigger warnings : Heavily implied child neglect, religious abuse

Semi-important part of "In Mortality", an au of Cut Down The Altar (creator will be in the tags)

June 14th, 1896 - Messiah's Grove, Gold County, Iowa

The child was trying to speak, evident by the repeated noises it was making, attempting to form one clear word.

Brigid ignored the girl, like she tried to do every day, wanting to make sure God once more listened to her devoted prayers and oaths as a Bride of His Son, Jesus Christ. She wouldn't abandon the child, for that would make her unworthy of being a follower of the Virgin Mary, but in the virtue of honesty she admitted, that unlike the Queen of Heaven, in all of her divine grace, she simply could not bring herself to love the girl as a guardian.

Maybe if their father hadn't died so soon, Clarice wouldn't have done the mistake she had. Brigid might have been the second born, but she had taken after her father rather than her mother, and thus he placed in her with all his trust and confidence that she'd be the one to keep the family's honor afloat.

Brigid might have only been the younger daughter, but she felt that if she had insisted more, then her sister wouldn't have married a criminal. Their mother had been far too lenient about everything, so before joining St. Abigail's and vowing to follow always Jesus' word, she had desperately tried to convince Clarice that a man like Lawrence Delevan was a bad choice, and that she should wait for a better man to come into her life.

But evil was always tempting, alluring with a charm away from God, and in the end, Brigid could only take the Evangelical Counsels with a heavy weight in her consciousness that she hadn't tried hard enough to pull her older sister away from the path of sin.

And what had that brought? The girl behind her.

Born six years after Clarice's death, fathered by Lawrence and, from what she could understand her nephew Arthur had said, his hidden mistress that died giving birth to her changeling child.

Lawrence had died shortly after too, and not even having been married for an entire year, and with a business and a reputation to upkeep, Arthur had asked that she, his aunt, take the girl in and care for her in his and his wife's place.

She had wanted to refuse, but she knew from her sister's letters and from the few times she had spoken to him, that Arthur was a good man that tried his best, and in her everlasting commitment to family, Brigid accepted to raise the secret child.

"Ma- Mama!"

Both of these girl's parents were some of the worst kind of sinners, and Brigid merely kept her alive for God had commanded that one must always honor their family, but even if they weren't connected by blood, this child could never honor her legacy.

She was not this changeling's mother and she would not stand to be called that!

"Don't call me that, Serenity."

"Mama!"

"I said don't call me that!"

She would apologize to The Lord for her sudden burst of anger, but at least it had kept the girl from speaking that word again.

#augusnippets day 29 #cdta #cut down the altar #cdta in mortality #cdta sister brigid #cdta serenity #there will be another tag about serenity in the future #tw child neglect #tw religious abuse #tw religious themes #just in case #missr3n3 #will add more tags later

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papermint-airplane · 7 months

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💪🏾👶🏽😤🧸🤗👏🏾🗣 For Aiden, please :)

💪🏾 What accomplishment are they most proud of?

Ok so there's some context needed here. Basically, Sixam has a current ruler who is mad with power. I mean, what ruler of an entire planet isn't mad with power, amirite? But this one is a particular lil freak about it. We're talking banning an entire color because it displeases them for whatever petty reason. As such, pink is illegal on Sixam. There is a black market for smuggled pink goods and Aiden, little rebel that he is, has the second largest collection of pink contraband on the planet. Ordinarily, he would never dream of breaking the law, but pink is his favorite color and his obsession runs deep. One of his greatest regrets is being separated form his hoard when he got himself accidentally removed from his home planet.

👶🏽 What's their best childhood memory?

If you can believe it, Aiden was a very shy, awkward kid and didn't make friends very easily. I know. So shockingly out of character for him. He'd spend most of his days alone while all the other kids played and had clubs and sports. When he got home from school, his mother would always be waiting for him with snacks to ask him about his day. She'd listen patiently to him talk about all the cool new things he learned, asking questions here and there to keep him going. He feels like those times with her made up for the loneliness that plagued most of his childhood.

😤 What's their pet peeve(s)?

People who won't take no for an answer. It takes a lot for Aiden to put his foot down on any subject but when he does, it's non-negotiable. Unfortunately, people seem to like to tap dance all over his boundaries which stresses him out because he has to keep reasserting himself. To his credit, once his mind is made up, no force in the universe is going to dissuade him so making him state his position over and over again is just annoying.

🧸What makes them feel supported?

Aiden wants to be loved. He wants to feel like he's the most important person in someone's life. He hasn't experienced that much outside of his mother and...certain individuals 👀 who were less devoted than unhealthily obsessed. He likes to be listened to. He likes to feel like he has someone's undivided attention. It's rare for him and he cherishes every moment.

🤗What makes them feel safe?

Blanket forts. After Roman's answer to this question, I'm sure you were expecting another angsty "hE nEvEr FeElS sAfE" answer but Aiden is a simple man with simple needs. When he feels out of control, he wants to make himself as small as possible and retreat into a place where he's surrounded on all sides, kind of like a turtle hiding in its shell. He likes to be cocooned.

👏🏾 Which lost hobbies would they like to pick up again?

Oh there are several, actually. He'd love to return to collecting again, even if he has to start over in Woeford. He loves drinking so that's a hobby he'd like to pick up again and again and again and aga--

He also likes to seek out animals and just watch them exist. He's fascinated by animals of all kinds. They're the one thing he's not afraid of. Back home, he could watch a gnarleep simply grazing on frixum grass for hours on end without getting bored. On Earth and...I guess whatever part of Earth Woeford used to be a part of, he likes watching mice. They have tiny hands. That's fucking adorable.

🗣 Do they ever talk to themselves? When and what do they say?

Yes. Constantly. The boy doesn't really have an internal monologue. Every thought he has comes out of his mouth, whether it's out loud, under his breath, or shrieked at the top of his lungs at inappropriate times. Maybe it's a byproduct of feeling ignored, maybe it's just the way he is, but he. never. shuts. up. And we love that for him.

#ask #answer #ask game #ask meme #oc development #just simblr things #tangentially sims related #sim: aiden ayy

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justwinginglife · 2 months

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Part 1.5 of Wait For Me Fic

At the request of @anamedeiros99, this is a continuation of the Wait For Me series. Just some short little flashback action. It takes place before Soshiro leaves for the Defense Force from his POV.

She was doing it again- she was driving him crazy.

He'd already long taken notice of all the specific ways in which she was growing up, but his shame and embarrassment kept him clinging to the relationship they'd always had, forcing him to keep treating her the way he always did.

Besides the fact that he was terrified of destroying the most important relationship of his entire life, he was also unwilling to admit just how many times he looked at her just a little too long, how many times his heart beat just a little too fast. It was unsettling and unwanted. Everything was perfect the way it was and he didn't need to go and fuck it up by thinking with the wrong head.

But he thought he might just throw all self control out the window when he'd taken her to the beach and she'd opted for a bikini instead of her usual, conservative, one piece. He bit his tongue to keep from spilling all the salacious thoughts that were unintentionally flooding his mind and he shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his swimshorts, trying to keep their intentions at bay.

He could tell something was frustrating her but he couldn't figure out what, and certainly not when she was wearing that. He was surprised his brain cells were functioning at all- he thought the heat in his cheeks would've burnt them to a crisp by now. He was glad it was blistering out so he could feign heatstroke.

His struggles only got worse when she proposed a game of beach volleyball. He had protested, knowing where this would go, but he never could resist her pleading eyes. He caved in within a matter of seconds.

As they were playing, he thought to himself that never in his life did he ever think he would be so focused on a volleyball, his eyes never leaving it for fear of glimpsing something else. If his face didn't give him away, his shorts certainly would and he refused to let them betray him like that. So his eyes stayed fixed on the ball, devoting himself to it like it was his religion. And when she was finally tired enough to quit, he dove into the ocean shortly after, hoping the cold water would cleanse him of this unnatural state he found himself in.

It backfired because she joined him in the water and then afterwards, proceeded to dry his dripping body off with a towel. He wondered if she knew just how strained he was, trying to resist her. Trying not to kiss her salt-stained lips, take her on the sand, take her in the water.

He'd hated men with little self control and right now he was starting to hate himself. He never wanted to be the type of person that she couldn't feel safe around. He'd protect her smile forever.

Those thoughts sobered him enough to stand firm when she began to suck provocatively (did she even fucking know just how tempting and seductive she was being right now??) on a popsicle and then again, when she dried herself off with his towel, spending just a little too much time hovering the cloth in between her legs for his comfort.

He thought he might just melt into the sand if she kept this up, but he'd rather be lost among the grains then become something he'd be disappointed in, something she'd be disappointed in. So he resisted over and over again, until finally it became reflex. It became second nature. He pushed his feelings so far down that he hoped he wouldn't even recognize them if they tapped him on the shoulder.

He'd do it for her, he'd do anything for her, even reject himself.

But she didn't make it easy for him.

He was puzzled to discover that she had a new way of styling her hair, a new way of doing her makeup, a new way of doing her nails, every single month without fail. He didn’t know why she changed styles so frequently, but he held on to that confusion, to that uncertainty, because it kept him from thinking about how delicious she looked as a redhead, or how much he’d like to pull on her blonde ponytail, how he wanted to tuck purple strands behind her ear. He wanted to kiss her red lips, kiss her pink lips, kiss her black lips. He didn’t care if it smeared on his face, he’d take any part of her that he could get.

And then he’d remind himself to push those feelings down. Again. He found it quite the workout.

When he finally made the decision to join the Defense Force, he was relieved to have some respite from the constant battle in his mind.

But then she sent him a letter.

And it changed everything.

#soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina #hoshina x reader #oneshot #anime #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic

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sonoroquiescing · 11 months

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i think it’s pretty universally accepted fanon that Harry and Ron absolutely fucking do Not become aurors but personally i have a distinct timeline for that.

they both do auror training. war has disconnected them so much from their actual wants and needs that they don’t know how to do anything else. Ron makes it 2 years before he realizes, several nervous breakdowns too late, that he was not made to retraumatize himself every day for the rest of his life. Harry, of course, is supportive, if not a bit put out—he knows his best friend made the right decision, but it’s just so lonely.

which is why Harry doesn’t know how the hell he finishes all three years of training. he feels like a shell of himself by the end of it, but nobody completes a 3-year intensive training program and immediately quits. so he takes on cases. they go alright. if he thought he was famous as a child, it’s nothing compared to walking through a ministry full of adults—many of whom are old enough to remember the first war—and into a wing full of people who have devoted their entire lives to hunting down the man he ended twice.

it’s overwhelming. it’s tiring. it gets to a point where, not even a year in, Harry considers retiring. he’s wealthy enough. why not? who would he let down besides himself?

then he remembers McGonagall. sure, it had been in retaliation to Umbridge, but she'd once told him she'd help become an auror if it was the last thing she'd do. he thinks of disappointing her. it makes him feel sick.

but when he meets with her, and tells her he can't bear to be an auror anymore, he's surprised when she listens with a soft, sad smile on her face. that she tells him he should follow his heart. but then she asks him:

what else in your life has made you feel fulfilled?

harry thinks and thinks. he's so far removed from himself that he doesn't even know anymore. he cycles through the memories he uses to cast a patronus...

"teaching the D.A?"

he says it not as an answer, but a question—asking for her validation. it's a preposterous idea, a selfish fantasy he shouldn't have let leave his head. as soon as it's left his head he's mortified to have even suggested it.

but Minerva doesn't scoff. she doesn't laugh him out of her office. she tells him he would make a wonderful teacher, and that she's heard rumors that the DADA professor might be retiring at the end of the year, if he's willing.

it's hardly a difficult choice.

#harry potter #professor harry #microfic #hp headcanon #harry potter headcanon #minerva mcgonagall #ron weasley #mine

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murdcrofcrows · 9 months

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stats • pinterest • connections

full name: dominika armenevna volkov nicknames: dom, domi, nika gender / pronouns: cis woman, she/her age & birthday: 30, october 25th occupation: principal ballerina, new york ballet company gang affiliation: burning gods, soldier orientation & status: pansexual kinsey scale - 2, widow strengths: enchanting, charismatic, dedicated weaknesses: manipulative, selfish, bitter

diving deeper -

* ◟ : 〔 mia goth , cis woman + she/her 〕 DOMINIKA VOLKOV , some say you’re a THIRTY YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both ENCHANTING and MANIPULATIVE, one can’t help but think of HORNS by bryce fox when you walk by. are you still a SOLDIER / PRINCIPAL BALLERINA at BURNING GODS / NEW YORK BALLET COMPANY, even with your reputation as THE MOUNTEBANK? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and FLAVORED LIP GLOSS THAT GLISTENS IN THE LIGHT , A SMOOTH RUSSIAN ACCENT THAT FLOWS THROUGH THE AIR LIKE A WHISP, BLOOD DROPS ON SOFT PINK SATIN , although we can’t help but think of LOVE QUINN (YOU), MIA WALLACE (PULP FICTION), MADDY PEREZ (EUPHORIA) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

BACKGROUND.

tw: death, murder

born in russia to an influential family both politically and in the criminal world. dominika was spoiled despite the strict expectations set forward for her.

private schools, home tutoring, dance classes to teach her balance and coordination before she could begin pointe at eleven years old. along with etiquette classes she was taught defense, basic weapons and combat training, and things to do in the event of a kidnapping or other similar instances.

in a power grab, people were hired to take out the entire volkov family. unfortunately, they were mostly successful. as far as dominika knows, she is the only surviving member.

a close family associate who did both security and odd jobs for the volkovs came to the moscow academy of choreography which dominika had been enrolled in since she was young, only returning home for school breaks. the associate informed her of what had happened and insisted on hiding her until they could safely get her out of the country.

the academy helped hide her until they could develop a suitable plan, traveling and devoted volkov friends when rumors would get too hot about her existence or attempts were made on her life.

eventually, they were able to devise a foolproof plan through a matchmaking company - she would travel to new york city and be the wife a wealthy older man. dominika did not tell the others when making said plan that she had no intention of staying married to the man, but her private plans were simply none of their business.

she thanked the family associate and the academy for their above and beyond service and made her way to america. while she awaited her green card and other documents, dominika became a dutiful wife when she wasn't dancing for the new york ballet company. she even managed to get herself put into the man's will which, admittedly, was her plan all along.

normally, dominika tries to keep her hands clean when it comes to violence and disposing of loose ends but every so once and awhile it is necessary. her husband had served his purpose and was worth more to her dead than alive. she treated him well for their time spent together, it was only fair that she be compensated for that time and service.

she played the part of a grief stricken widow for the allotted time she felt she had to. further using her skills to continue building on the inheritance left to her by gathering information, playing the stock market, and draining unsuspecting target's bank accounts.

these skills were noticed by the burning gods organization when she'd tried, and nearly succeeded, using her tactics on one of their own. instead of retaliating, they offered her a position and she's been with them ever since.

dominika plans to rise to the top in the organization some day. she continues to be happy with her position in the ballet company, both enjoying dancing and performance along with the access it gives her to more wealthy members of society. when she's not on stage she transforms into who she needs to be to get a job done or spends her time finding ways to stay entertained throughout the city.

she continues to look for more information on the people responsible for killing her family and ways to remove the current family who took their place. out of principal and revenge, though she has no intention of ever returning to russia.

QUICK CONNECTIONS.

friends, social group

friends of the volkov family

missing/not dead volkov sibling or cousin

rivals

casual encounters/exes

romantic potential

a confidant or two

people to do her dirty work for her when needed

security detail

HEADCANONS.

she is looking for a way to get a retractable metal nails type weapon but is picky and very specific about it.

while not liking to participate in violence unless she has to, she thoroughly enjoys watching it and you can often find her at fighting events.

more to be added

#lawlessintro #dominika | intro #death tw #murder tw

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waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year

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go on, claim my heart: chapter forty

see my masterpost for what came before this.

Keyleth is grateful that Percy brought her back to the cottage instead of to Pike's chambers. The cottage was farther, but she is much more comfortable here, on the little sofa in front of the fire, with her baby girl in her arms and the castle far from view. Pike sits just next to her, her palm on Keyleth's shoulder, glowing golden yellow as Pike keeps up a seemingly limitless font of healing.

And she does feel better, except in all the ways in which she feels worse. The sickening sludge has left her body, and she no longer feels as if she is teetering on the edge of death, but as she watches her daughter, who gnaws on a polished ring of wood, blissfully unaware of how close she came to losing her mother and grandfather in the same week she nearly lost her own life, she still feels sick to her stomach.

There has been so much death. Her mother. A ballroom of innocents in Syngorn. Four members of the Vesran noble family. Percy, for a moment. Her father. At this point, likely the Archduchess as well. All for one man to ascend to the throne that Keyleth spent her whole life wishing were someone else's. She would understand if Vallen had been motivated by love, or fear, or even revenge, but power? Only a fool who had never had any would go to such lengths to seek it out.

Pike's hand slips from her shoulder. "I'm tapped out, I'm afraid." Her little arms come to squeeze around Keyleth's waist. "I'm so, so sorry, Keyleth."

"As am I, Pike." She's sorry that this is the world that has been built for them. She's sorry that Vallen believed he could slaughter his way to power, and she's sorry that he came extremely close to being correct. She's sorry that the people of her nation were robbed of so much—her mother's heart, her father's wisdom, whatever gifts Duchess Uvenda's rightful heirs might have brought Vesrah.

Vilya drops the teething ring onto her chest and reaches up toward her mother. Keyleth lets her grab onto her finger. What terrors will await this next sovereign of the Ashari Nation? What bids for power will wreak chaos and suffering on this tiny child, one whose laughter is bright like sunshine and whose smile could bring an army to its knees? How is Keyleth meant to balance her fidelity to her people with her near-feral devotion to her child? She'd told her father, right here in this room, that she would let her nation rot if it meant protecting her daughter, and she hadn't been lying—but what can she do to protect them both?

What she must.

The door to the cottage swings open, and Vax is there, eyes wild until they land on Keyleth and Vilya. She watches the tension seep from his shoulders as he comes in toward them. Keyleth turns to Pike. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Of course." Pike slips off of the sofa.

"Will you gather the rest of the Council? And bring them here?"

Pike's brows knit in confusion, but she nods all the same. "I'll be back as fast as I can." She leaves just as Vax comes to take her seat beside Keyleth. He bends down to kiss Vilya's forehead first, then Keyleth's lips, his hands on either side of her face. He tastes like sweat and blood, and Keyleth wishes more than anything to freeze this very moment, to live in it until the whole world falls to ash around them.

But something must be done.

Vax keeps Keyleth's face in his hands, inspects her eyes, her cheeks, her neck, whatever bits of her he can see. "Are you alright? What did Pike have to say?"

Her smile is soft, indulgent, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine. Tired, but then, what else is new?"

There's something about her, something off, but considering he found her mere heartbeats away from death, it's not like he can be that surprised. He gathers her in his arms, pulls her and Vilya closer in. "He confessed to everything," he says quietly. "The entire scheme. Son of a bitch wouldn't even let me torture it out of him."

Because he wanted to, wants to, even still. Vax's fingers itch to slide his blade beneath Vallen's skin, peel back his layers inch by inch to the score of his screams. Vax has killed before, for survival, for money, for duty, but this one he'd do for the pleasure of it.

But Vex had to show up, descending into the same dungeons where Vax had interrogated Finefirn, with that look on her face, the one their mother used to give Vax when he was a boy. And though Vax's hands were already slick with Vallen's blood, he could not exact his revenge, not with his sister's sharp call of his name echoing through the crooked stone halls.

Were he a better man, Vax would be able to admit that his sister's admonishment was well-earned, because Vallen had not merely confessed, but begged for mercy as well. And though Vax would enjoy nothing more than coming up with new, inventive ways to make this insect of a man suffer, he knows that any denial of mercy must come from the one most wronged.

So he says to his wife, "He has asked for clemency. Specifically, he has asked to speak to you about the matter personally, though I hope you can understand when I say I would rather burn the castle to the ground with him trapped beneath than let you within half a mile of him." She doesn't say anything, so he presses on. "It should be your decision, the fate he now faces. I...know that you are more compassionate than most, and if you wish to merely keep him locked away for his crimes, well. As I said, it should be your decision."

Still, Keyleth says nothing, staring down into their daughter's curious face. Vax finds himself in the familiar position of wishing he could hear all of the private thoughts swirling in her head. He knows better than to push, knows that she needs the space and the time to come to decisions on her own, and the gods know that Vallen isn't going anywhere; he is currently hanging by chains imbued with an anti-magic enchantment with a gag bound tightly in his mouth, his cell watched by no fewer than a dozen of Vex's best men and women. He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't hoping Keyleth would ask him to make Vallen suffer, but even as ruthless and unforgiving as he saw her be in Whitestone, he doesn't know if she has that kind of cruelty in her, that thirst for violence.

"Please forgive me."

Her words are so quiet, for a moment, Vax thinks he's imagined them. When he does realize what she's said, he thinks she must be speaking in reference to her decision regarding Vallen. He is disappointed—his thirst for vengeance only grows stronger with each passing minute—but of course he would forgive whatever choice she made in this regard.

Except...she isn't speaking to him. She's still looking down at Vilya, whose eyelids now droop heavily as she begins to drift off in her mother's arms. Now he's confused; what on earth would she need Vilya's forgiveness for?

She pulls herself from his embrace then, turns to face him with shining eyes. She takes a deep breath, and he braces himself for whatever it is she is about to say.

"I am abrogating the Ashari Nation."

Once the words are said, a wave of calm washes over Keyleth. For the first time since Vilya was taken, she feels as if she can breathe. She looks down at her sleeping daughter, the fluttering eyelashes, the slightly parted lips. It seems so simple, now that she's made the decision. She can feel the consternation radiating off of Vax—he must start and abandon at least two dozen questions in rapid succession—but she sits in silence, waiting for the others to arrive.

It takes Pike about half an hour to gather the entire Ashari Council, and in that time Keyleth lays Vilya to sleep in her cradle, which has been moved into their bedroom for the time being—she doubts she'll ever be able to sleep in a separate room from her again—and sets a kettle over the fire to boil some water for tea. The whole time, Vax watches her as he might a rabid animal, as if her every move is erratic and unpredictable.

There is little room in the cottage for the five councilmembers, Keyleth, and Vax, but they make do. Keyleth remains standing, giving the seats to the others. Vax dithers, unsure of where he should be, and Keyleth holds out her hand to him. It has always fit into hers so nicely, like it was the only place it was meant to be.

"Thank you for joining me here," she begins. She sees Master Gilmore open his mouth, but she raises a hand to stop him. "I am sure you all offer your many condolences for my loss and congratulations for the rescue of our daughter, and believe me, your support, your kindness is appreciated now more than ever. In fact, it is that very support that I require for the future of the Ashari people."

She takes a deep breath. The decision was easy. This part is hard. "Until Vax, until Vilya, my greatest love—my only love—was for the people of this great nation. My father raised me to understand that to be a sovereign was to be a caretaker, to assume responsibility for the well-being and livelihoods of thousands, people I would never meet all across the continent. He raised me to love those people, to want to do the most good for the most people with every decision I make. I have always known that that mission would involve making difficult choices, choices that some people might not like, choices that might make my own life harder.

"And I have made one such choice." She's squeezing Vax's hand so hard, she cannot believe she hasn't broken his fingers. Since the Council's arrival, she's been avoiding Percy's gaze. She meets it now. "I believe that the best thing for the Ashari people is to dissolve the Ashari Nation."

Lady Kima, who had just taken a sip of her tea, spits it out in what would, in another circumstance, be a truly comical display of shock. Lady Allura starts to splutter out something unintelligible, but it's Percy's reaction Keyleth can't look away from. Her normally stoic, reserved friend is rapidly tripping through a myriad of emotions, each flashing so fast and bright across his face she has no hope of telling them apart.

Master Gilmore is the first one to find the words. "Your Majesty, please...elaborate."

She nods. "The current system we employ for governance and security is not working. We should all be astounded that it took this long for a member of the Ashari nobility to realize that all that stands in the way of our nation's capital's moving to their city is the callous murder a few people who are essentially strangers. Of course Vallen was motivated to erase my family's line here in Zephrah; it was the key to bringing his own family line to power, to bringing him to power.

"Our constituent cities, as connected and beloved as they are, are too far apart to be truly considered one nation. I believe it is in the best interests for Vesrah, Terrah, Pyrah, and Zephrah to each become independent city-states, self-governing as they see fit, in an alliance or confederation with each other. We form our own governments, our own laws, our own economies, and we rely on each other in times of war or strife."

Her eyes bounce between the council members, trying to gauge their thoughts on the matter. She's mostly seeing shades of bewilderment, so she continues, "And to start, I would like to declare that from this day forward, Zephrah will be a republic governed by a democratically-elected council." She sweeps a hand out. "Starting with you all."

Everyone starts talking at once. It is a cacophony of objections and questions and exclamations of surprise, and Keyleth smiles placidly at all of it. Vax's hand squeezes hers once, and she turns to see him mouth, Are you sure?

She's never been more sure in her life.

Allura's voice cuts through the noise. "Your Majesty—"

"I am begging you, please just call me Keyleth."

She watches contention twist in Allura's eyes, but the Mistress of Arcana presses on. "I don't wish to question your wisdom, but...I worry that you are making this...rather grand decision from a place of pain, of hurt."

She isn't wrong. Keyleth is in such exquisite pain, a turmoil as unwieldy and overwhelming as roiling seas. But in the center of the storm is a respite, a space of calm from which she has come to realize the best course of action for both her family and her people.

"My pain has forced me to see what pain our nation has been in for some time now. And my pain has shown me what may very well await my daughter should we continue down this same path. I...have thought a great deal about fate, these past few years." A romance fated for tragedy, a treaty to rewrite the fates of nations, the goddess of fate restoring her life in exchange for her husband's fealty. "I am not one to care much for the gods, powerful though I know them to be, but...what could they have given us these fragile lives for if not to choose our own fates? What is the purpose of us, of them, if we are not meant to build something new, something beautiful?"

Percy, who had been leaning back against a kitchen counter, pushes off and crosses over to stand just in front of Keyleth. He takes her free hand. "And what of you?"

She looks into his eyes. He arrived in Zephrah already so grown up, all buttoned and polished and quiet. She devoted much of their shared childhood to cracking open his shell, to finding what secrets and chaos lie beneath, but all she found was the piece of her family she never knew was missing. "I have everything I need right here."

He smiles at that, and the idea strikes her like a lightning bolt to a tree. "Percy?" He hums. "If you would be amenable...I would very much like a fifth city-state to join this alliance."

He's confused for a moment, and then the realization dawns across his face. "Whitestone?"

"With its rightful lord at the helm."

Percy is silent for a long moment, his eyes darting around in shock, but then he throws his arms around her neck. She catches him with a smile. "You're not getting rid of me, Percival de Rolo. The Ashari Nation may be no more but you will always be my family."

From the sofa, Pike clears her throat. "We have much to discuss. Much to discuss. This...this is big."

Keyleth lets go of Percy. "Of course, we will need to discuss this with the Archdukes and Archduchess—which reminds me, when we are done here, Allura, please take Pike to check in on Duchess Uvenda. With any luck, we will be able to prevent Vallen's final murder from being completed." The two women nod. "I suppose what I must ask now is...do I have your support in this?"

She holds her breath as the council members look to each other, having brief, silent conversations with one another as they consider the rather large proclamation she's just made. Finally, one by one, they begin to nod, and Keyleth lets out the breath as they start to confer amongst themselves, their brilliant minds already whirring as they commence the construction of a new government.

Keyleth turns to Vax, who is watching her with bright, awed eyes. "And you?" she murmurs, bringing his hand, still entwined with hers, to her lips. "Do I have your support?"

Vax brings his free hand up to cup her cheek, and she pushes her face into it, eyes sliding closed. She feels his lips brush her forehead, and then he murmurs low, "In everything you do, my love."

Her eyes open, and she smiles slyly. "You won't be married to royalty anymore."

He shrugs. "I was thinking about leading a revolution anyway. Storm the castle, topple the monarchy, that old song. You saved me a bunch of trouble, actually."

And for the first time in a long time, Keyleth laughs, sharp and bright, as she folds herself into Vax's arms.

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