#tyril fic

[mikaelsrose]

Every Tyril fic I start writing ends up as a smut

Every. Single. One.

[godtierliyesplease]

I wish that were me

Summary: Mal wishes it was him that mc had loved.

Pairing: Tyril x (f)elf!mc

Word Count: 1305

A/N: i wrote this at 1am and it may suck but i tried and just, ugh, mal deserves more love

The one person that didn't sub come to his charms when he tried was also the one person he truly wished did. No matter how charming he was, no matter how open and vulnerable he became, she never chose him. And call him petty but he honestly hoped that she only loved the elf because he was the first elf, the first of her kind she had ever met, and not because she genuinely loved him for who he was.

As much as he loved the way she made him feel, he would rather feel nothing at all than live the rest of his life knowing that she felt the same about another.

He wished it were him that she came to when she was cold, so he could wrap her in his arms murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, unafraid to be anything more than friends and non-caring of the way their teammates would think and look at them. Instead, he had to watch with a deepness in his heart as she sat closer than normal to the blue elf by the fire, who would only cover them both with a blanket when he thought everyone else was asleep and unaware of what they both kept secret for fear of judgement and it crumbling beneath their entwined fingers.

Mal wished it was his undershirt she wore to bed when the nights were harsh, but he must admit that his shirts wouldn't hang off her frame in quite the same way that Tyrils do. Kit is about the same height as him, short for an elf, so his shirts would be the same as her as on him. But Tyril being taller than both of them gave more comforting clothes to drown in than he ever could.

Kit.

His Kit.

His Kit who spent time and effort to come and collect fruit with him on their first night together even though she had no reason to.

His Kit who danced with him in the tavern and managed to draw a real smile out of him for the first time in months.

His Kit who went with him to the island and opened up to on the beach after saving his life yet again.

His Kit who, up until that night at the lodge in the Deadwood, flirted with him every chance she got.

His Kit who pushed just enough, but never too much, about his past and slowly broke down any wall of his she encountered, because she wanted to know who he was under the adventurer he paraded around as.

She wanted to know the real Mal.

She wanted him.

At least he made himself believe that she did until that angry elf dropped into their lives.

He could pinpoint the exact moment she gained interest in Tyril. It was the night they met and were hiding in the shadows of the abandoned building. Nia and Threep had drifted to sleep in one corner while the elf sat cleaning the dirt and blood off his blade in another. He and Kit sat in the middle of the wall between Nia and Tyril quietly talking about how they could get to Flotilla, he remembers being distracted because she was playing with his fingers - he noticed she did that a lot, toying with things in her hands, as she later revealed she had to be doing something otherwise her mind would drift to unsavoury places - however, every few minutes her gaze would shift away from him, and towards their new companion and would linger on him until Mal drew her back, or the elf caught her staring. He also remembers trying desperately to keep her attention on him though not quite knowing why at the time.

That would be the start of many moments he wished it was him who had captivated her heart.

Part of him knew it made sense, after all, she was an elf and would live hundreds of years longer than he would, and although he knew she would miss him when he did eventually die, it wouldn't be the type that he wished it was. But he was slightly glad of that, at least Tyril would live as long as she would so she wouldn't be in pain for as long as she would if she loved him.

He wanted her to be happy, and if that ment she lived her life loving someone who wasn't him, then he would be okay with it.

He had to be.

And he tried oh so hard not to let his unreturned feelings get the best of him but sometimes he couldn't help but snap at the blue elf and let his anger boil for a few hours until he calmed himself and reasoned that Kit would not want him to dwell on these things.

Though if Tyril hurt her in any way he would spend the rest of his pathetic little life making the elfs' absolute hell.

And sometimes he couldn't stop himself from being cold and distant towards her. He couldn't let her in any more than she already was, that made a risk growing further attached to a woman who was not his to be attached to.

It made his heart ache every time she showed she cared for him and he resented her for caring more about someone else.

Most of all, he was angry at himself for feeling something so pure and genuine for someone he believed he could finally be happy with.

He was Mal the magnificent, Mal the rouge, the lonely wanderer who took up lovers when he felt lonely and needed a pretty distraction for a few hours and wouldn't think anything of it once it was over.

He needed no one. He relied on no one. It was him against the world and that was that.

But she just had to push him to be his best and give him stupid smiles that ment more to him than even the largest bag of gold he could find and perfectly match his wit to give him the best banter he could imagine, all the while being so soft and gentle with him that he longed for her touch more than he longed that his mother had lived a good comfortable life.

She scared him.

Not just because she knew her way around blades and bows and animals and the outdoors like they were a second sense to her, but also because she could break him by finally saying four words he knew were true.

Four simple words.

He knew she loved him, she loved all of their company and didn't shy away from expressing that she loved them as she would family and only as family, save for elf boy of course.

He wished she loved him like she loved Tyril.

He wished she loved him like he loved her. He wished she loved him like the stars love the night, so bold and bright and burning for centuries and for people to see long after they had died.

He wished she loved him like the ocean loves the ships that sailed it, pushing them to where they want to go and supporting them as much as it could.

Though he supposes, if she ever let him love her, it would be the way the ocean loves the ships, but in the sense that the boat would eventually meet a storm and try as she would, she would still drown and be torn apart in the dark depths, belonging only to the sea and never to bask in the warm light of day again.

Mal wishes he never agreed to join her in saving her brother, but he knows he is more loved now than if he didn't.

And it hurts him something awful.

[mikaelsrose]

the fbi agent monitoring my search history is about to get very concerned (or pleased lol) cause i’m starting my research for the newest tyril smut