#Chapter: [Unhidden]

[euyrdice]

heh everyone has a faceless/more serious shot and then theres kise :-) hes so cute

[umbralsound-xiv]

“It’s been a while, Angeir.” “...Do not call me that.”

--- Erjon confronts Eir about their shared past in Bozja (Taken from this piece of RP!)

OOC: I can’t draw for the life of me, nor can i animate, but i can take screenshots and arrange them in such a way i can make something like a comic strip! I’m pretty happy with the way it turned out, and i’m considering making more if only because it’s fun to see a more visual representation of various interactions!

Erjon belongs to the lovely @neoma-eltanin!

Speech bubbles used with the TOU from here!

[lw77]

Diet Pepsi 💈 (LSxMV)

Chapter 2. - Hunter?

“What’s wrong, Angel? I think you know I’m not interested in either,” Max says, a cheeky smile pulling at his lips.

Logan’s head is bent over the order sheet his dad had left him to figure out, because in his Father’s words he “needs to know more than how to scan items in the store.” Still in disbelief over his Father, because Logan stocks the chips all the time. That’s two things he does in the store. 

He hears the shop door jingle, thinking it’s his dad back from accepting their stock delivery. Frustrated, he whines, “This looks like a multiplication chart with words, Dad! How am I supposed to order anything?” His tone stretches into tantrum territory; he might as well have stomped his foot and crossed his arms.

“Why don’t you pout too, son? I figured it out, and you will too,” his dad replies as he walks in. But as Logan looks up, he realises it’s not just his dad who has entered— Max is behind him.

Max’s bright blue eyes lock onto Logan’s, and he can see the amusement swimming in them. Logan straightens up, flushed, clearly aware that Max has overheard his mini tantrum. He watches as Max heads to the fridge for a drink, his gaze trailing from Max’s broad shoulders in that tight white shirt down to the taper of his waist. But before he can let his gaze wander lower, his dad steps in front of him, waving his hand from side to side to catch his attention.

Startled, Logan exclaims, “Jesus, Dad! Give a guy a warning.” His dad deadpans, “I did, son. You just seemed to be else where,” unsubtly hooking a thumb back to indicate where Max stands.

“Yeah, OK. I’ll figure it out, whatever,” Logan mutters, flustered at being caught checking out Max by his dad.

“I think it’s not just the ordering you need to figure out, son,” his dad says, subtly eyeing both Logan and Max, who is still choosing a beverage. Amusement laces his dad’s voice as he comments on Logan’s plight.

“Stop it, please” Logan hisses in alarm, trying to keep his voice low.

His dad just laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just saying, son, sometimes you have to ride the bull by the horns,” he adds, the last part louder than Logan would like.

"That's not even how the saying goes," Logan whines.

"Oh, I know how the saying goes. I just thought this was more fitting to your situation," his dad replies plainly, as an explanation.

Yeah, Logan would rather get rammed by an actual bull than hear his dad give him any more dating advice or try to play wingman.

Cringing inwardly, Logan looks up, silently praying, *Please, God, if you can hear me, save me. I promise I’ll go to confession more often, and I won’t even bully Oscar for being a math geek anymore.* God must’ve had a needy child to answer because Max is approaching the register. Meanwhile, his dad unhelpfully lingers to the side of the counter, clearly enjoying the view of Max and his own beet-red son.

Logan shoots his dad a look. His dad’s expression is one of unhidden glee, but thankfully, he turns to busy himself straightening some candy bars—still in clear view of the two but less obvious.

“H–Hi, will that be all for today?” Logan asks, pulling himself up by his customer service bootstraps. *Eat your heart out, Dad .*

Max looks at him, eyes squinting as if he knows just how flustered Logan is. Logan tries to focus on the cross necklace peeking out from Max’s white tee, glinting and inviting.

“Yes, Angel.”

The nickname makes Logan’s whole body flush with heat, and his eyes snap up to meet Max’s. He quickly glances at his dad, who ducks down as Logan catches him snickering.

Logan scans the bottle and turns the reader toward Max.  His tongue feels thick as Max holds his gaze.“O–ok, w–well that’s good, here’s your t–total. Would you li-like your receipt?” he finally stutters out.

“No thanks, keep it. See you at lunch, Angel.” Max’s blue eyes twinkle warmly as he winks and waves goodbye to Logan’s dad, who is now openly watching.

When the door closes behind Max, his dad smirks. “Well, that’s one way to grab the horns, son. Can’t lie, didn’t think you had it in you. I thought we’d have to renovate your bedroom to get that boy in there.”

“Oh my god,” Logan groans. “Aren’t you supposed to want to save my innocence?” He’s mortified that even his parents are so aware of his blatant attraction.

“I think that went out the window when we saw your clothes from College, Logan. I mean, you might as well have worn assless chaps, son. Your mom worried someone had vandalised your clothes,” his dad says, barely holding back his laughter. Logan looks at him in shock, mouth agape at his dad’s relentless teasing.

__________________________

He hears Danny’s croon of “Logie boy! I have a present for you” all the way from the back room. As he heads out to the cash register, he spots Danny standing there with a relaxed Alex by his side. Upon seeing him, Danny wiggles his fingers in a “ta-da” motion toward Alex.

“Wow. You shouldn’t have,” Logan says dryly, squinting and raising an eyebrow in mock scrutiny. “Actually, I think I already have this model. Are you sure the contracting isn’t just a front for your stealing, Danny?” he calmly asks, making Danny guffaw in surprise at Logan’s humor, while Alex quietly laughs, familiar with his best friend’s wit when he’s coherent.

“Anyways, how’s your first day, Alex? Any hot milfs on the trail yet?” Logan asks, leaning his forearms on the counter.

“How come you never ask me if I have any milfs on the trail, Logan? I’m hurt! Is it because I’m Australian?” Danny replies, one hand on his hip and the other over his heart.

Logan ignores Danny, prompting a squawk of indignation that draws the rest of their crew to the register.

Continuing Danny’s train of thought, George chimes in, “Yeah, Logan, is it because I love the Queen? Is that why you won’t ask me about any of my milfs or dilfs?”

Charles adds, “Is it because I’m not actually French, little Logan? I’ll have you know that hasn’t been a problem.”

And it continued, until Carlos finishes his argument, and Logan groans in disbelief, holding his face in his hands muttering a muffled, “You guys are ridiculous.”

Raising his head, Logan realizes no one else is trying to make their case for being a milf or dilf hunter. He sees Max in front of him, eyebrow quirked.

“What’s wrong, Angel? I think you know I’m not interested in either,” Max says, a cheeky smile pulling at his lips.

“Ye-Yeah. Uh-huh,” Logan sighs, feeling like liquid fire wherever Max’s gaze trails.

Max’s eyes are warm, like they were this morning, but there’s something else there as he drinks in Logan’s obvious blush and bright eyes.

Their staring is interrupted by Danny’s sudden clap. Logan turns toward the loud man as he declares, “Oh yes! Logie boy, tomorrow is Alex’s official welcome party. So pack your swimmers and party pants—we’re going out on the lake, then back to our lake house for a little party. Nothing crazy, of course,” Danny adds, though his unconvincing tone makes some of the crew laugh at his obvious lie.

Logan glances at Alex, who just shrugs as if he doesn’t know much either. “Sure, is Oscar coming too?” he asks Alex.

“Yeah, he sa—” Alex starts, but is loudly interrupted by Danny. “Hey, Logie Boy, you may have an issue with us Aussies, but they’re always welcome at my parties!” He wags his finger accusingly.

Rolling his eyes, Logan replies, “Sure,” in mock exasperation.

He turns back to Max, realising the man never looked away during the whole interaction; his gaze is firmly fixed on Logan. The heat rushes to Logan’s cheeks again.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel?” Max asks calmly, as if he’s not claiming Logan in front of his whole crew, or staring him down with that bone-melting gaze.

Logan’s tongue feels too big, and his mind is blissfully cottony. “Ye-yes, I’ll, uh, see you,” he nods, trying to affirm it to himself.

“Can’t wait, Angel,” Max says before leaving, with some of the crew following him out, all flashing Logan a mock salute.

His best friend is the last to leave, making a crude motion with his hands. Logan flips him off and mouthing an annoyed “ alboner"

Oh god, he's going to see Max wet and half-naked tomorrow. Oh my god, he will be wet and half-naked tomorrow too.

Chapter 1 - Angel

Chapter 3 - Sunburn

[sassylegshayne]

marry me, idiot. - chapter seven

the finale!! I hope y'all enjoy it! 2.4k words.

series masterlist

It had become normal to wake up tangled in Spencer's arms, his soft snores rumbling his chest lightly. Craig would often curl up at the end of the bed, on Spencer's side.

It was relaxing, usually. When you find yourself waking up just before your alarm was set to ring, it felt like your nerves were on fire. You wanted to melt into the mattress and disappear, acting as if this had never happened.

As Spencer shifts, his arm slung around your hips now pulled you closer, a soft murr leaving his lips. You couldn't help but bite your lip, smiling softly down at him.

After a moment, a large grin spreads across the man's face before his eyes open, landing on yours, sending your heart aflutter. Your cheeks heat up as a nervous laugh bubbled out of you.

"Good morning.." Spencer spoke softly. reaching out his hand to cup your cheek gently, your worries melting away as you lean into his touch.

"I know it'd be kinda last minute but... if you wanna back out, get it." Spencer chuckled softly as you press your forehead to his, his blue eyes scanning yours.

"I'm all your's, no refunds." You grin, placing a soft peck to his lips before slipping from the sheets, much to Spencer's dismay.

The two of you make quick work of attempting to wake yourselves up before running out on a quick errand, before heading toward your chapel.

Erin had managed to snag a cheesey shotgun- wedding chapel, and with help from some of the cast and crew, it would be ready for you ceremony in a few hours.

You and Spencer had been tasked with the chairs, Jackie delegating tasks left and right with a bright smile, her enthusiasm radiating off of her.

You finish wrapping another bow, tying the knot gently when you feel a shoulder bump into yours, finding your.. Spencer squatting beside you. A small giggle escapes you as you watch his eyes search over your face.

"Can I help you?" You ask playfully, the brunettes cheeks burning bright red as his eyes fall on yours.

"I..." He trails off as your head snaps up, Jackie quickly seating herself on the chair behind Spencer, your cheeks now lit up as bright pink as the bows in your hand.

"Ya know, wish you guys were actually getting married." The woman huffs, pouting as she looked between the two of you. It feels like your heart's stopped beating, but it's the only thing you can hear in your ears Damn Jackie.

"Yeah, good one." Spencer barked out a laugh as he stood quickly, looking as pale as a ghost as he scurried off, leaving you in a fit of giggles.

You finished up the last of the chairs, working diligently on whatever tasks you were given until Kiana found you in a flurry, ushering you off to get ready. You'd opted for a simple outfit, knowing the Spencer had done the same.

You quickly got ready before heading back toward the chapel area, the room now filled with your guests. Your heart fluttered as tears threatened to spill from your eyes, all of your friends moving about the room as they took their seats, the cameras and mics all set in place. It was so weirdly perfect.

You're pulled from your thoughts as Ki gently takes your hand, giving you a squeeze. "You excited?"

She was always quick to sense things out, yours nerves unhidden to her. You gulped, putting on a bright grin as you nodded.

"Of course I am.. have you seen.." You trail off, brows furrowing as it dawns on you that Spencer wasn't in the room. Your heart drops to your stomach, your mind fearing the worst as you turn to your best friend beside you. Kiana gives you a soft smile, nodding her head.

As if on cue, Spencer rounds the corner with a mic pack in his hand, your nerves crashing away in an instant.

"Hey, pretty.. you okay?" Spencer asked softly, the bright smile he had when he first saw you quickly turned to worry as he saw the concern on your face.

"Yeah, I thought you got cold feet." You chuckled softly, Kiana trying her best to suppress her grin, her heart soaring at the love between the two of you.

"T'm gonna go do some finishing touches if you two wanna.. get those on." Ki grinned, nodding to the mics before she took off, leaving you two alone for a final moment.

You link your arm with Spencer's, guiding him towards the back with you before you step out into the hall. As the door closes, all of the chatter becomes a soft murmur as you turn to him, a grin spread across his face to match yours.

"So," Spencer begins as you turn your back to him, allowing him to clip the pack onto the back of your dress. "You really think l'd get cold feet?"

You let out a shaky chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes. A shiver runs up your spine as Spencer gently presses his lips to your shoulder before placing his hands on your hips, spinning you slowly.

Spencer digs into his pocket, pulling out the wedding rings you had picked out. The video called for gauty, fake rings, but for the real marriage, you'd decided on matching bands.

You couldn't help but giggle with excitement as you slip the ring into your bra for hiding, planning to exchange it for the faux ones later on.

You look back to Spencer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, wishing to stay in this moment forever. You slowly lean in, your lips brushing his gently before the turning of the door handle has you jumping back.

Spencer steps aside, his cheeks burning as Shayne poked his head out, offering the pair of you a soft smile.

"We're all set up whenever you two are ready..." He trailed off, quickly shooting a thumbs up before disappearing behind the closed door once again.

You take Spencer's mic wordlessly, slowly stepping around him as you clip it to his waistband, trailing the cord under his shirt before you step away.

As soon as your foot hits the tile, Spencer is wrapping his hand with yours, spinning you back into his arms before pressing his lips firmly to yours.

You pull back slowly, wiping your lipstick from his lips with a smile that sets his heart ablaze.

"C'mon," You nod to him as you wander off, tugging the door open. "Marry me, idiot."

Spencer took a deep breath, unable to hold back his smiles any longer, trailing after you. Erin quickly positions Spencer up at the altar in front of Jackie, everyone else already seated or behind the cameras.

You give him a small wave, the small ring on your finger catching the light as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, fidgeting with your band he had hidden.

This was an absolute mess of a wedding; it's perfect for the video, but realistically, who else would want this but the two of you?

And in the midst of all this chaos, you stand just down the isle, and all he wants to do is kiss you. Spencer can't find it in himself to try and focus on anything but the view of you before him.

The soft playing of Josh's piano is the first thing to pull him from his thoughts, his grin so wide it looked like it might split his face. The crowd in front of him erupts into cheers as a camera pans to you.

Spencer still can't tare his eyes away as you playfully wander down the isle, finally greeting him with a grin to match, offering your hands to him.

You try your best to steady your shaky hands as Spencer takes your, a nervous laugh leaving him, causing your own to escape.

'Shush." Jackie chastises the two of you playfully, her minister costume not helping the laughter for the pair of you, or the crowd.

"I, Jacklyn Uweh, have been brought here today before al of y'all to ordain the matrimony between the Spencer Agnew and the Y/N L/N." Jackie called out dramatically, the crowd cheering once more.

"Now, since I'm not legally able to bind these two together, I'll just let them say their pieces." Jackie laughed as she steps aside, leaving you and Spencer alone together.

Spencer quickly fumbles around, reaching into his pocket as he grabs a piece of paper, setting aside the approved roasting 'vows' Erin had handed him earlier.

You glance behind the camera, seeing confusing open Erin and Kiana's face, worry setting in slowly.

You glance behind the camera, seeing confusing open Erin and Kiana's face, worry setting in slowly.

Spencer tugs at your hand once more, pulling your attention back to him. He smiles softly as his eyes scan over your face, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Uh, I would be the aforementioned Spencer, and I have some words I'd like to say to my future wife here, if you'd let me." He jokes, looking out to the crowd for the first time. Everyone seemed invested, but no one had a clue what he was about to say.

"Y/N," Spencer turns to you, glancing down to the paper held in his shaky hands. "You're my best friend but you're about to become my favorite tax break."

You chuckled softly, chewing your lip as your heart races, the laughter of the others around seeming to disappear as he spoke.

"When I sat down to write this, I realized that I have a lot that I want to say." Spencer chuckled nervously, nudging his glasses up on his nose before stuffing the paper back into his pocket, lacing his hands with yours.

"I don't know how to say all of it, but I know that I love you, Y/N. I don't know when it started, but I know it's not gonna end."

"I don't know what made me fall in love with you, or when, but I feel like it's just the most natural thing for me." Spencer grinned, a few tears escaping him as he blinked them away, your hands gripping his tightly.

"Basically, I don't know much, but I know that you're my best friend, you make me the happiest man in the world, and I love you, Y/N."

You let out a small laugh through your tears and sniffles, your trembling hands quickly taking the paper of your's that Spencer passed you.

You refrained from looking around the room, wanting to get your words out before taking in everyone's reactions.

"Spencer, you're my best friend, too." You laugh softly, biting your lip as the man before you rolls iis eyes playfully.

"I wanted to make sure to get that out of the way first, but I digress." You grin, glancing from his blue eyes to your handwriting.

"I tried to think about how long I've loved you but.. I really don't know, either." You blink away a few tears, feeling them drop onto your hands.

"I know there was some point where I realized that I wanted you in my life, I want you forever." You chew your lip, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. "I loved you, even before I realized it."

"I just know that it feels like I'll love you forever. I want to spend the rest of my life watching you fight with Craig."

"I'm so glad I get to marry you." Spencer tugs you gently closer, your toes tapping together as you laugh softly, your nerves bubbling inside of you. "I love you."

A deafening cheer erupts across the room, the silence from moments before is long forgotten. The two of you are quickly wrapped up in familiar arms, Kiana a crying mess as she holds the two of you tightly.

"What the fuck?" She yells out quickly, squeezing you tightly as the questions begin flooding in, the confusion and excitement buzzing throughout the room.

"Okay, we can explain.." Spencer speaks after a few moments, Kiana slowly stepping aside as you grin up at the man beside you.

"Kiss the bride first!" Kimmy squeals out from behind the camera, flailing her arms as your eyes fall upon her and Erin, tear streamed faces and grins greeting you back.

Your head quickly snaps to Spencer, your heart fluttering again. It felt like you fell a little more in love with the man each time you laid eyes on him.

Spencer took in every detail of your face, wanting to commit every part of this moment to his memory forever. He slowly cupped your cheek, you hand wrapping gently around his hand as you pressed your forehead together. You could almost cut the tension with a knife; it seemed like everyone was on the edge of their seats. Your first public kiss would seal your marriage.

You couldn't take it any longer, moving your hands to cup Spencer's cheeks as you crash your lips into his, melting into his touch as the cheers sounding again.

"It's just a prank, bro!" Spencer calls out, pointing out to the camera with one hand, snaking the other around your hip as he tugs you into his side, your cheeks bright red as you take in the state of all your friends around you.

"Spencer fucked up and got us into this situation where it seemed like we were getting married, which would've been funny, except for the fact that Rhett and Link believed it." You began, the attention of everyone making you blush again as you nodded to your bosses before you.

"Okay, well.." Spencer began, his defense dying on his tongue as he glances at you smiling beside him. "Then we decided we would make a series of it, right, pretend we're actually getting married and fool the fans and our bosses, right?"He gestured out to everyone, murmurs of agreement echoing around.

"Well, big surprise, we are in love with each other and decided we might as well get married.." You finish off, a timid grin on your face as Spencer squeezes you gently. "We went and filled out the paper work at the courthouse this morning, so."

"Oh my god!" Courtney squealed out, another wave of shock hitting your friends. Everything seemed to finally click, the roar of cheers getting impossibly louder as the two of your are engulfed into a massive group hug.

This was the perfect mess, Spencer had fucked up in the best way possible. One dumb idea led him here, attempting to slip on your wedding rings as you're squished between more people than you could count.

It's all you've ever wanted.

[huramuna]

blue - shera & aemond.

“May I see?”  Shera shook her head vehemently. “You can’t.” “Please.” She made a noise of disagreement, pressing her face further to her shoulder. She didn’t, however, account for the visibility of the scar on her throat, jagged and raised against the soft flesh of her neck. She felt one of Aemond’s fingers trace it, across slowly, then upward. His hand went to her chin and he turned her face towards him. And she let him. She didn’t have much energy to stop him, anyhow.  His touch was soft, which surprised her greatly– she thought him unhewn and rough in all places– but this was something reminiscent of how he used to touch her as children. He was always gentle with her before. Her face was turned to him completely now, unveiled, unhidden– she braced herself for the look of humor or pity on his face, her heart stopped beating for a moment, her breaths caught in her chest. Brushing an errant hair aside, he traced the scar over her eye. It wasn’t an entirely clean cut, like he had guessed, jutting out into two diverging lines, like branches of a tree going downward. His violet eye, the hue hardly visible from how large his pupil was, was trained on her blind one. The milky blue, her own pupil long gone. The edges of his lips curled into something akin to wonder. There wasn’t a look of pity and it didn’t seem like he was about to make another poor jest about her face– he just looked, as if to study it, to commit it to memory. “Blue?” he murmured. “How curious.”

art by me, 2hrs on procreate. an excerpt from chapter 7 of banshee's lament.

[sunshinegirl29]

Postcards - Chapter 1.

Hi! This fic has been pottering around in my brain for months, I've planned and unplanned and written and deleted, but here it is!

It's my first dabble into writing so constructive criticism and such really welcomed. I'm also open to requests if you like my writing. I write for Spencer Reid, Eddie Munson and Joel Miller.

It's Spencer x Reader, 18+ eventually, slow burn - eventual warnings for abuse, SA and general criminal minds related triggers. updates will be bi monthly.

Chapter 1 – Growing Pains.

You study the form while you wait, leg bouncing against the sticky underside of the table.  No matter the outcome, this has to be over.  The shaking letter is factual and to the point.  A long sigh. You place the envelope back on the desk, before reaching over the files to roll the rich blue fountain pen between your fingers. 

A door clicks, finally.  The familiar heavy tread of Sherrif Miller; “Hello again” he huffs, clutches the ridged back of his office chair and sits down.  You notice his metal foot drags more these days, after all this time he’s never told you how it happened and you don’t ask.  You don’t look up from the broken skin on the corner of your fingers, though you know he’ll be wearing the same sullen frown, his exasperation unhidden. You wonder if he thinks you’re making it up.

“My statement. Is that all you need?” You sigh, looking him in the eye. He shifts uncomfortably under your gaze, blanching slightly.  He doesn’t respect you, typical older generation male, feels out of control in his life and within his team so he dismisses you.  A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth and Miller stands, leg creaking as he rises quicker than you thought he would at his age.

“Yes, that’s all. I’ll leave it with the rest—” You were going to protest, for the third time this month but it falls flat with the rest of Millers’ sentence.

“Hi there, I’m sad we have to meet again under these circumstances.”  You step from foot to foot, wiping both hands on your jeans.  Mason Cook is classically handsome, dark hair and light eyes; he’s the type of man who’s charming, but brooding at the same time.  From the amount of time you’ve spent at this station, you’ve seen plenty of his female colleagues fall over themselves to impress him, frankly it’s quite embarrassing but you can see the appeal.

“It’s okay Mason, Miller here was just telling me how you’re all going to put your time and resources into finding this weirdo. Right Miller?” 

You hear the scrawling of Miller’s pen stop, you definitely hit a nerve.  Mason watches as usual, he knows you’re enjoying bating his useless boss and wipes a large hand over his beard to cover his own tilted grin.

“That’s enough.” He snaps, “Cook, don’t you have work to do? We have weirdo to find and you’re my resource.”    You nod.  A subtle glance at your watch; 7:15am, you were late.

_

“Second day on the job and you’re already late?”

SSA Derek Morgan croons when he talks. He can’t help it.  It’s lead plenty of women straight to bed but right now it reminds you that a useless errand to the Sherrif’s office made you late for the most important job you’ve landed in years.

“Bite me Morgan” His laugh fades as you rush past, dipping into the roundtable room.

No one’s here.   This must be what hazing feels like?

You understand men like Morgan, women usually fall into three categories; two separate categories that had their own rules.  The first box was untouchable. These women were untouchable in every sense of the word. They usually either belonged to someone else, or meant something to him.   Garcia fell into that category, you’d deduced – they’d shamelessly flirt and are the only reason BAU’s HR department were in business.  She would always reside in the Untouchable box, regardless of how much Penelope wanted out of that particular category.  Jennifer Jaureu also belonged in that box, but in a different way.  She was Will’s – it started and ended there.  He had eyes of course; she was attractive but he loved her like family.  Then there was Elle.  She had started out in the fuckable box, but getting shot and killing Lee had shifted her into the untouchable box pretty quickly after that.  He’d dated enough women to know to stay away from that kind of trauma, besides he’d loved her like family too.  

Then there’d been you.  After months of training together, you were quite sure you now hovered between the fuckable and untouchable box.  There was something powerfully arousing knowing that the person that had your life in their hands daily, could take it instantly.  If he knew, you’d be banished to the untouchable box instantly.  

Anyway, you let him have his win. 

“You told me it was urgent. You lie!” It spurts out in a laugh, breaking the silence.

“Sorry babydoll! I’m just messin’ with you! Welcome to the team!” he pats you on the back and helps pick up the files and folders that your whirlwind entrance scattered around the small room.

You settle down in a chair opposite the door, a strategic position; able to see for potential threats and a planned exit route for any emergencies. Perfect.   It’s not long before Agent Rossi takes a seat beside you.  He gives a short good morning and a reassuring pat on the shoulder in support of your second real day on the job – it goes a long way in settling simmering nerves.

Morgan sits down, a ghost of a smirk still on his lips as he sips a third cup of steaming coffee.  He tries to hide it but you’re trained to observe, not being able to miss the roving way his eyes study you across the table.  It’s insane how an expert profiler doesn’t realise you see right through it, but maybe, you smirk back, he does and just doesn’t care?  

Garcia totters in, bright and giddy, the breath of fresh air in the stifling room.  She’s passing cups of coffee in ludicrous mugs to each person when JJ and Aaron file in together; their presence hushes the deep conversation you’re having with Rossi, leaving the intricate details of Bobby Fisher’s chess strategy dead in the water.  

“Okay, Good Morning, let’s get started.” He looks determinedly everywhere but you. JJ interrupts your thoughts with a manilla folder. 

“Three girls have gone missing and been later found murdered over the last 6 months in a semi-rural area of Georgia.”  Your heart lurches, desperate to free itself from your chest.  You take a few deep breaths, calming it into submission.   “Alison Sinclar, Cassidy Williams and Joslyn Cooper were all in their late teens to early twenties when they each went missing.”  JJ pauses, allowing Garcia to pull up pictures of each girl in a row. 

“Allison Sinclar a Senior at Georgia High School had Spring Break with her family in Senoia Georgia. She disappeared after leaving a house party at a friend’s and never returned.  She’d been strangled and posed.  She was found on the edge of farmland a few days later.” JJ blanches at the crime scene photos, turning quickly to hand out some physical copies to an empty chair.

 “Oh my! How are you all not in so much therapy?!” Garcia holds a cherry octopus’ mug in her field of vision, shielding from the unnecessarily gruesome death.

“Any evidence of sexual assault?” Emily asks. 

“Yes, extensively.” JJ nods, her voice unwavering.

Allison was someone’s child, but to this killer she had been nothing but a means to an end, a way to get off and dispose in favour of the next prize.  

The board flickered, to Garcia’s irritation and you take the time to observe the rest of the group;

  Emily Prentiss was no longer the new kid on the team, she’d taken you under her wing in the weeks leading up to your first day and you’d taken to texting her a few times a week for late night advice and tips to assimilate.  She’d been helpful but somewhat reserved in giving any personal details about herself; smart girl.  Morgan was debating the Sexual Predator angle with Aaron, who still wasn’t looking at you.  Then there was the case of the strange empty chair.

“There!” Penelope chimes “You can bow to the technical Goddess!” 

“Cassidy Williams.” Hotch cuts her off with the smallest hint of joviality “Cassidy was seventeen, she had been in and out of foster homes, in Georgia.  She was found in a wooded area on the edge of town, also strangled and posed like Allison”    

This one was a carbon copy of the first.  Her body wilted over at the waist, manipulated into a vulgar position.  A strange sensation washed over you, leaving you shivering uncomfortably.

This was enough for Garcia.  She stood abruptly, coffee splashing onto the files in the additional space at the table.  “No. Nope. I’ll be in my bat-cave if you need me.  God, I need my therapist on speed dial!!” 

Aaron nods, giving her arm a small squeeze before she leaves.  He’s never done that to you. It evokes an unpleasant sensation in your gut. 

This time he looks at you it’s short lived, if you weren’t paying attention you’d have missed it.  But he knows better. 

“Joslyn Cooper, twenty-two and the most recent death.  Hers prompted the Georgia Police Department to request our assistance on the case.  She was” JJ takes a visible breath, “Also posed but her heart was removed.” 

“Oh my god.” Whistled Rossi even a seasoned agent like him wasn’t immune to this particular horror. 

A chorus of disgust rippled around the room, it starts a debate about the significance of the heart in mythology and religion but you could only focus on the posing, something about it seemed vaguely familiar.

“Hey Sugar? Are you okay?” Morgan’s wave came into focus and you shake your head involuntarily.  It looked like he was enjoying your distraction, the toothy grin snuck onto his face and you replied in kind.

“Yeah.” You scoff, “It’s a rough one for the first case.” You placate him with the ghost of the truth and run your fingers jokingly over the sparse hair on his head on your way out the door.

A sudden motion stops you.  A flicker of movement that turns into a touch of your arm, it guides you discreetly away from your colleagues who grab go bags with muscle memory.  You’re very familiar with the huffing breath and deep frown of Aaron Hotchner.

“Aaron, don’t do this.” You say slowly and wish this wasn’t going to turn into a passive aggressive lecture.

“They don’t know.” Aaron said and you watch his chin tilt. He looks over you with a serious gaze that sits comfortably on his brow.  The one that Hayley always talked about.

It was horrifying how little they knew.  He was their boss and they knew nothing about him. It felt like a slap in the face, another reminder of how insignificant you were – or maybe it was a classic reflection of how you felt about yourself, deep down. 

“You don’t have to tell me how much they don’t know Aaron.” From your position on a spare desk in a shadowed corner of the Bullpen you scowl up at him, “They didn’t even bat an eyelid, not even Garica who has all your files!?”

Aaron breathes heavily, tongue moistening his cracked lips.  “There’s aspects of my life I want to keep private.”  It’s flat and unemotional, as you expect. “The anonymity will help you here and it keeps you safe.”   You muse for a second, chewing on his words – they’re sour and shame tinged but the faint sweetness of comfort lingers on your tongue.

“Safe.” It comes out harsher than it needed to be and you can see his regret fade back into the comfortable frown you’re so accustomed to.

Aaron sighs, grabs a briefcase from the desk and turns his back to you.

“Let’s get going. Wheels up in 30.”

Greetings from Sharpsburg!

12.06.02    

Hi you!

  I know we live three towns over and I could just pick up the phone, but this is a romantic notion I picked up from that raunchy book I found in Mama’s dresser!  Hopefully Miss Cain will let you come here tomorrow; Daddy’s going to pick up my uncle Kellen from the airport but after you should come for dinner.  I hope Mr Hartman will get this to you before then.

Love, Elizabeth.

A violent breeze calls you back, you’re not sure what happened on the drive to the airstrip but vaguely remember Jennifer’s mouth moving and something about meeting another member of the team on the plane. 

“Why do I only get to travel with you guys once or twice a year?”  Penelope gasps, hurriedly shuffling past you.  She smiles eagerly at a man you don’t recognise; he passes her a coffee in a hot pink mug that she takes gratefully. 

“Oh!” Garcia backpaddles, hands in the air.  You know she doesn’t mean any harm, but instinctually step backwards.  The cool silver of your watch clamps painfully against your wrist where she grabs it, leading you towards him.  Penelope introduces you and moves off to sit by Derek; they smile at each other like scheming children.

He’s tall and gawky, obviously flustered by the change in staffing, his previously relaxed demeanour shifts into awkward, a tight smile.

“Dr Spencer Reid nice to meet you.”  You reply in kind, glad he doesn’t extend a hand. 

You study him while he excuses himself and strides over, settling in opposite Rossi.  Dr Reid is the type of man that goes home alone to vintage first addition books, and the sound of a dripping tap he’s not there enough to be bothered to fix.  His day specific shirts are neatly folded into certain drawers, where his real wool coats hang in seasonal order.  Jennifer had mentioned his eidetic memory, which might be the least interesting thing about him.  He’s older than you, by several years at least, but still baby faced enough that the cops on cases don’t take him as seriously as the others despite his title.

“Okay, let’s get started.”  Aaron gestures and you sit down.

“All three girls have similar victimology, features and body types. He’s definitely got a type.” Your sentence trails off in a sigh without obvious reason and you’re suddenly aware of the faint hum of the jet, the only sound.  “They could be a surrogate for someone in his life, past or present someone who’d wronged him in some perceived way?”  You continue, ignoring the awkward feeling settling in your gut. 

“Yeah, looks like it but what’s with the posing?” Emily hums, looking over the photos one by one.  She doesn’t seem to flinch at the brutality of the crimes, but you can’t judge her.

“It’s interesting, the posing.” Reid states, flicking back and forth over each photo. “It’s as if he’s humiliating them—” 

“It’s dehumanizing.” You accidently cut him off, blurting out your thoughts.

 Reid is the smartest person in the room and everyone knows it, the way his eyebrows shoot into his brown curls says all you need to know on his feelings about being interrupted.

“Sorry, go ahead.” You wince.

“The manner of death is personal, intimate.  They mean something to him, dehumanized after death, no remorse.”  Each word packs a punch, the slight condescending lilt makes your blood boil. 

A minute of oppressive silence follows, something tells you they all know Reid isn’t used to being spoken over.  It’s amusing really, but ruffling feathers on your second day on the job wasn’t how you wanted this to go, so you sigh in resignation and nod, accepting his deduction.

“There’s no discernible MO but according to the M.E Report all girls were extensively sexually assaulted and all in the same manner. Which could help.” Aaron notes, frowning again.

“The unsub crosses socioeconomic backgrounds; Allison Sinclar lived in a rural but wealthy area of Georgia, her father is a retired Georgia Police Sherrif and her mother an English Tutor.”  Derek gestures to the files in your lap. 

“Cassidy’s parents are in the wind?  She’d been bouncing in and out of foster homes for years before her death. If their backgrounds mean something to him, it means he’s had enough time and space to watch them.” It’s aggravating, the seemingly random way this unsub kills young girls, but that doesn’t explain why your hands shake and the pen slips from sweaty palms. 

  It’s like magic, the way he catches it with dextrous fingers. Spencer’s eyes flick to yours for a breath and he nods tightly once again, handing it back without a word.

“That’s true. Good work.” Aaron catches your eye and nods with a tenderness you’ve not seen from anyone since your mother died, the feeling that bubbles up forces your gaze back down.

“When we land, I want you and Reid to go to the medical examiner’s office.” If Aaron wanted you to start this job with confidence, he was definitely going the wrong way about it. You flash pleading eyes at Derek who surprisingly is already watching, or rather smirking at what must be a very distasteful expression.

  Aaron continues, oblivious or unphased; “Emily and I will go to lease with the family, Rossi and Morgan, I’d like you to go to the most recent crime scene. Garcia with JJ set up at the Station, Sherrif Anderson will meet you there.”

“Brace yourself.”

Before you can question Rossi’s order the jet tips, scattering chess pieces all over along with the last dredges of your abandoned coffee.

>

Greetings from Sharpsburg!

26/09/05

Hi you!

I know in my last letter, I said I’d give up this romantic notion!  But it’s just not me.  It’s been different around here the last few months.  Mama’s sick again and Daddy’s working more on the new barn and...

Anyway, I hope Miss Cain will let you come over again soon. I’ve been… 

Love, Elizabeth.

The medical examiner’s office is tucked away in the back of an archaic local hospital.  The instruments lay neatly, shining eerily in the clinical glow.  This part of the job was always the hardest; seeing people’s loved ones, naked on a freezing table just to be dissected and stored away.  It was irrational. You knew this was a very necessary part of the job to eventually catch the unsub and put the victims to rest, but how the two girls laid out like this was just undignified.

“I’m so sorry Agents, I just stepped out for some air.”

She’s not what you expect.  British. Two grey strips of hair frame her face, the rest sleek and brown poured down her back in a glossy ponytail.  She looks about four years your senior, a jagged scar dresses her milky white false left eye.  She carries on around the room, passes a manila folder to Reid and expertly dons a protective gown. 

“I’m Doctor Annabel Clayton.  My parents and I knew the first girl Alison and her parents. They had trouble conceiving so they adopted.” Clayton sighs, looking you in the eye.  A shiver runs down your spine again, making an unwelcomed home in your gut.

“Cause of Death?” Reid asks and you frown, unsure why he had to ask.  Maybe it was just obvious to you? 

“The main cause of death was strangulation.”

“Look at the bruising pattern.” The ever-well-mannered Dr Reid cuts in curiously, squinting at the bruising.  “He did it by hand.”  

“However.”  Dr Clayton slaps down the sheet, covering the young girl’s modesty.  She didn’t look like the type of woman who was used to being talked over in her own office.  “She has some internal bleeding that would have caused her death if he’d not chosen, well, the other.”  She looked sad in a wistful dreamy way, as if a ghost. A small-town purgatory. 

“The other, Cassidy.  She was also manually strangled and sexually assaulted in the same manner.”  Finger shaped bruises bloomed angrily on her grey thighs.  They give way to more, a trail of violence ending at her neck.  The uncharacteristic prickle of tears threatens but are obediently blinked back.

“They could be sisters...” You sigh, in fact you could all be sisters.

Clayton moves on to the last girl, her brooding expression darkening.

“For obvious reasons, I’ll be keeping this poor sweetheart covered from here.”  She strokes Joslyn’s hair.  “She’s still a young girl after all, she’d want to look her best.”

“This is the worst I’ve seen in my career, especially in this area.  Her cause of death wasn’t manual strangulation.” She quips and Reid strides to your side.  The accidental intimacy of it makes your breath catch.  He smells homely, the warming aroma of old books and black coffee, you can’t help but lean into it.  

“Do you want me to carry on?”  That’ll do it. Clayton’s British lilt is like ice water, it’s embarrassing.  You’re leaning into a man you barely know and are frankly not sure you even like?

“Of course, sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”  You stammer, stepping toward the teen girls ghostly face and chest. 

“She was found posed, like Cassidy.  She was leant over a tree stump with the rope around her neck. It was hung from a tree.” 

The picture she passes around is from a distance.  The rope is tied to a gnarled tree, snaking down to bind her wrists, the other hooked over her head and knotted to a taller branch.

“The unsub must be at least six foot to attempt this alone.  Unless they have a partner.” The possibility is frightening, one unsub is hard enough but two?  Say goodbye to sleep for the next few weeks.  

“Okay Agents. I need to get these girls back to their beds.”

You pause for a reply, but looking back catch Reid rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand, as if shielding them from the overly bright strip light.

“You okay there?” 

His jaw is tight, your eyes linger on the way the action accentuates the sharp corner.

“Just a headache. Let’s go.”

> 

The familiar stickiness of the Georgian heat prickles at your back dampening the linen of your shirt, it sticks to your forearms as you roll up the sleeves.  Being back here felt much like the oppressive midday sun, inescapable and suffocating. 

“How was the ME?”  Emily asks, but Reid strides past you toward a waiting Rossi.  She frowns as they disappear into the precinct together, talking animatedly about something you can’t quite hear.

“She’s interesting for sure.” You breathe, skilfully ignoring the vibration from your cell in the back pocket of your pants.

The precinct was mayhem bustling with cops that looked a little too old to be in the field but hated their wives and children too much to retire just yet.  They scramble to sit in rickety office chairs as Aaron and Rossi start to present, you wonder if they’d take your suggestions on board.

As Aaron starts to give a preliminary profile you hear words like previous history of abuse, 18 to 25, local, abandonment issues and surrogate, but you can focus on nothing but the manic buzzing of your phone again.  You’ve changed the number three times in the last 9 months and every time this son of a bitch still manages to find it. You’re seriously debating asking Garcia for help but then reconsider, it’s for the best, keeping them at an arms-length.

As the officers begin to buzz around you, taking calls from the tip line and preparing to interview locals you discreetly slip your cell out and glance at the seven new messages illuminating the screen.

12:24pm – Mason Cook.

Hey bug,

Miller said they’ve had no luck tracing the calls you’ve been having, sorry. I did try. Also, the girl from the coffee shop didn’t recognise the sketch.  I know I keep saying, but I’m sorry. Hope you’re back soon, I’ll leave the key in the normal place.

12:45pm – Unknown

I told you. I’m not going anywhere. It’s about time you paid for taking it all away from me.

[writingjourney]

WIP Whenever

@ramblingoak and @ghostchems tagged me to share a WIP and because I know it's been ages and I'm super behind here's a piece from Chapter 12 of IKNBS. Also the fic hit 666 kudos on Ao3 and I think that's a good reason to share this today ♡

The pasta is still lukewarm. Eating semi cold spaghetti two days in a row is not very glamorous but you’re pretty sure you’ve never eaten with quite as much enthusiasm and hunger. Copia himself bolts down the pasta like he hasn’t seen food in a few days. He looks relaxed now, a sort of post-coital glow in his mismatched eyes that never really stray from your body, a hunger not directed at his food, adoration that is unhidden, visible in every glance. You think that this is the closest to real heart eyes a human can offer and it gives you butterflies that make it hard to swallow your food.

His red zip-up hoodie is draped over your shoulders, the only item of clothing on your body. You sit on the mattress right next to where Copia is leaning against the wall in just his briefs, eating straight from the take away containers with wooden forks and paper napkins. His make-up is smudged, traces of it on the pillows, on the sheets, on you. He looks beautiful in the fading light, darkness slowly creeping in through the windows and deepening the lines on his face. With the long hours of the night stretched out before you like a calm expanse of sea, the only visible shores far off in the distance, you feel utterly at peace. So much time to spend with him, uninterrupted, time to worship in the only way you now know.

“You look beautiful,” he says, setting his empty paper box aside, “wearing my clothes.” A smirk, his eyes shimmering with lust and mischief. “Or nothing at all.”

You smile into your next fork of pasta. “You have to give me a few minutes after eating.”

“Who said I want to do anything, cara? Can I not compliment you with no ulterior motives?” When he sees your hidden grin, the raised brows, he chuckles. “You are right, there is no moment in which I don’t want you. Don’t need you.” A deep breath, his head falling back into the pillow that’s propped up behind his back. “But I can be patient.”

As if to disprove his statement, his bare hand reaches out to touch your thigh, squeezing the flesh and tracing its soft stretch marks all the way up to where it meets your hip. You shiver against his touch, goosebumps forming underneath his fingertips. He chuckles, repeating the ever same movement, stroking your skin until it stops tickling as much and becomes a steady, reassuring gesture. So focused on his touch, he barely takes notice of you still eating, wrapping the last few spaghetti around the wooden tines.

“Copia,” you say.

“Hm?” He looks up, squeezing your thigh once more. “Are you done yet?”

“What about being patient?”

“I want my dessert.”

You sigh dreamily, swallowing the last bite of pasta. “I love dessert. I wish we had some.”

“Oh yes, you do, eh? Macarons and croissants.”

“Mhm.” You close the empty box, scooting closer to him. “I was never allowed to have it as a child.” 

“What else do you like?” he asks. “Real desserts?”

It seems like the talk of food has distracted him momentarily from touching you. You decide to crawl over him to get rid of your empty container, but he still grabs your hips the moment you’ve set it down, pulling you against his chest and rolling you over until he’s towering above you. A short gasp leaves your lips, his weight and warm body so solidly caging you in.

“So?” he asks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Most things,” you reply, shivering when his lips brush the tender spot below your ear. “Tiramisu.”

“Oh, really? You like Italian, eh?”

“I like Italians, yes. I like one Italian especially.”

He chuckles, looking at you with his love-struck eyes, the green shimmering so delicately in the soft moonlight that is now making its way into the studio. The first kiss is soft, a moan fluttering from your throat as his tongue licks along your lips. The next kiss is more demanding. He presses in hard until you open for him, his tongue teasing yours with no haste.

“Mhm so sweet,” he whispers. “My baby tastes so good. Better than all the pasta and desserts.” You can’t help but giggle and he hums in delight, pressing more kisses to your neck, your shoulder, down the column of your throat where he lingers, licking along the line of your clavicle until you shudder. “Do you know that I am addicted? I could taste you forever.” He gives a throaty chuckle. “Perhaps I will.”

tagging: @xfilesinamajor @copias-sewer-rat @kissingghouls @gothdaddyissues (if you want to and have something to share ♡)

[strawberriesinmoominvalley]

After Max saves Arthur from their abusive pack and never returns, Charles and Lando escape with the goal of finding them. But when they are only reunited with Arthur, it becomes clear that Max has been caught within the abusive pack once more. There is an obvious solution to this: destroy the pack once and for all.

Charles can’t afford to lose anyone else he loves. Lando doesn’t know how to trust alphas. Alex wants his and George’s second chance to work. George wants everyone to be safe. Oscar doesn’t know how to cope with the responsibility he’s been forced into. No one knows how to deal with the loss of Max; everyone wants Max back.

Long story short, this is easier said than done.

“Is your Max our Max?” Lando asked, Oscar’s unhidden confused expression matching exactly how Lando felt. “Max from the Alpine pack? I assume so.” Oscar seemed to look at Lando with dawning comprehension. “Though I wouldn’t have known if Arthur hadn’t said.”

[niobiumao3]

In which three people are nowhere near as sneaky as they think they are.

~*~

I like to think of this song as a closer for this fic:

The Beauty of the Unhidden Heart, The Glitch Mob

Some lovely art of older Tech and Phee:

MrSnailDood Lornaka gingerpines cloned-eyes

And of course, the chaos children, Helena and Djoura by @nightskyfoxyy.

Thank you all so much for reading, kudoing, and commenting. I encourage everyone to keep making art, fics, gifs, edits, and whatever else strikes you for Tech, to keep him and his story ever expanding. Phee as well; there was nowhere near enough of her in the show.

This fic owes its existence to all of the CX-Tech theorists, the CX-Tech HCs and art, and the TechPhees of the fandom. I wasn’t enamored of CX-Tech as a theory, but everyone convinced me of ways to do it so it could be satisfying and interesting. Thank you all for inspiring me to write this, and in doing so keeping Tech and Phee’s story moving ever onward. Here’s hoping this isn’t the last we’ve seen of them.

[minamorsart]

"I do not understand," she said softly. "One minute you are kind and the next you are cruel. Whenever I see you it is as if you become a completely different person." She pursed her lips. "You are… unpredictable, Lotor… and that makes you dangerous."

"So you are afraid of me," he said, the disappointment unhidden in his eyes.

"That is not what I said," she insisted gently, and she was surprised to hear the compassion in her own voice.

🌌✨The Empyreal Within - Chapter 6: Great Detective Allura

[umbralsound-xiv]

We had been on the boat for... More than half a moon, now. Granted, it was much different than the last, and for all the right reasons.

...Whoever knew a boat could be so... Relaxing? Our room is comfortable, and we want for nothing during our transit to the East...

It makes it difficult to get out of bed, some suns.

The gentle rock of the boat did little to stir Eir from his sleep, nor did the sunlight that streamed in from the window of the cabin. No; the Viera was more than content to remain as he was, head buried into the pillows, one arm curled around the frosty Seeker, having her settled beneath the crook of his arm. Silver eyes peer open for only a moment, half-checking to see if wakefulness had found her, too.  

Sayuri shifted lightly on her spot, making herself more comfortable while on the same time nuzzling herself closer to Eir's body with a content exhale leaving her. Her own eyes remained closed, even when her head moved to nudge against him gently and affectionately.

The arm that held her pulls close; fingertips tracing through snowy white hair. Her small, subtle affection set a warm smile on his features, a contented murmur burbled in response. Eir was notoriously bad at waking up; this had been the fourth time this morning he'd opened his eyes and opted to sleep instead of embracing the day, instead choosing slumber and the gentle wrap of limbs and a thin bedsheet. Finally, a drawn breath is sighed between his lips. "...Suppose we cannot lay in bed all sun, hm? We must make an effort to wake at some point..."

Her ear flickered softly as his fingers combed through her hair, her own lips curling into a soft smile and her head nudging against him a tiny bit tighter. She, too, had been content to remain in the bed with him - having had absolutely no intentions to get out of it without him. With her eyes still shut, she drew a deeper breath. "..Mmh.. We can.." She murmured as a quiet protest. "..I'm comfy."

Another fill of his lungs, as though he were to move, or make an announcement... Which ultimately culminated in a sigh as he closed his eyes and pulled her tighter. "...Suppose. But you cannot say I did not at least make an attempt to get out of bed this sun, Sayuri."

A soft snicker left Sayuri, eyes slowly fluttering open and redirecting towards his features as she lift her head just a tiny bit. "..Considering I'm the one keeping you in it.. I think I'd be just a touch hypocritical if I did." She tightened her wrap around him, pulling herself closer.

A murmur of a chuckle is hummed against her hair, stealing a kiss against it. "It is not as though we have much pressing for the sun. Little we can do on the ship, aside for taking in the sights and entertaining ourselves." He adjusts, laying more flat on his back, finally opening his eyes to the sunlight, even if just barely. He beckons her wordlessly closer, not wishing for her to be anything less than against him, having moved in some attempt to keep himself awake. "We will dock in Kugane in the next few suns, so I hear. As much as I look forward to it... I wish to make the most of my time here, too." A warm smile, as he lingers in the barely audible sound of the ocean. "...It is peaceful."

“Mmh.. The sights being the sea.. the sea.." She rolled herself over to her front with a slight pause in her sentence. "... And the sea." She gave a small smirk, as she dragged herself up enough to settle her chin atop his chest while peering at him. "To be honest.. I'm looking forwards to getting off the ship.. While we can wander it and get up on deck.. I'm starting to desire a larger area to wander.." Her chin temporarily left his chest in favour of her settling her face against it instead, letting her lips press against it softly before her chin returned to rest upon the kissed area. ".. You're not wrong about it being peaceful, though."

"There are sights besides the sea. The sky, too." He hums in quiet amusement, gaze moving down to meet her own the first time this sun. "...And other prettier things, besides." The hand that laced her hair moves to affectionately rub against her ear. "It is a sentiment I share, eager to leave the ship. But the suns I can spend here with you... Even aboard a boat, I have not lamented being out to sea as much as I thought I might. The first sun we came aboard was an anxious one."

Her eyes shut as his hand settled at her ear, another content sigh heaving itself out of her. As they opened once more, they remained somewhat lidded - her gaze seeking out his as her smile widened slightly. "..Having you with me has.. made it significantly easier to accept.." She murmured. ".. Not to mention, we aren't confined to a tiny space against our will.."

"This much is true..." His gaze traces the room, over their various belongings, the wooden panelling of their temporary quarters; the table and vase which they'd eaten countless meals over, now. "Not that we have moved so much from the bed regardless. But we could leave... If we wanted to." The quirk of his lips turn at one edge. "...If. But that does not seem appealing to either of us for the moment."

".. Having a bed is something that helps distract me that we're on a boat.. I am.. still not overly fond of the fact.. But.. it's okay. We're okay." The tone of her voice became a little more quiet towards the end, as if it was mostly to serve as a convincing to herself. Her arms moved to drape around his body more properly, nudging in between his back and the mattress ever so slightly. "Mmh.. Maybe later.."

Eir pulls her a little further upwards to settle against him, embracing her more fully as the sensation of her cool skin settled against his between the faint warmth of the sheets. "We are okay..." Eir echoes back, furnishing the crown of her hair with a gentle kiss. "...Even on the Locket... We were, as much as we could be. Much better for having each other, even if you could not be seen nor heard... Or felt." He smiles; the more bittersweet expression warming to comfort her. "If we were okay there, we most certainly will be here, in this peaceful boat where we need never leave the side of the other." A pause, before his brows knit in a wry smile. "...The presence of a bed is a comfort, though. True enough."

Sayuri's embrace loosened just enough for him to pull her up with ease, before it promptly tightened once more. The kiss against her crown serves well to ease her small bout of anxiety, her head moving to gently nudge against the underside of his. ".. We made it out. All of us. And those.. not willing to change.. have been dealt with.." She returned a small smile. ".. I'm taking it as one. If I close my eyes, and just hold you while we lay here.. I can convince myself we're still at home.." She gave a small huff. ".. It eases me enough to let me sleep decently."

A small loft of a brow is given to her words, but he dare not move for fear of disturbing her comfort. "...You truly find such peace in my quarters...?" He asks, continuing, "I mind not for where I sleep, only that you are with me. I... Do not think it has been discussed, but..." Hesitation sets in for only a moment, swallowing it away with what few doubts he held. "...You can just as readily consider my quarters as your own. If you have things to move, there is surely space for them."

".. I find such peace with you. It just.. very often happens to be in your quarters." She tilted her head back to peer up at him, her brows furrowing slightly. "I.. suppose we never really talked about it.. Not.. for a permanent move in, anyhow." A short laugh left her before her head nudged against him once more. "I.. wouldn't mind moving in, in the official sense.. If you want me to."

"In my mind, you already have. Suppose we just never had the conversation. We were... Taken, and when you were returned not so long after I, you..." A moment of pause hangs in the air as he considers. "...You opted to enter my room, and have scarcely left since." His hand moves to gently stroke against her cheek with his forefingers. "And I am all the happier for it. I would be glad to share the space with you--" The sentence ends abruptly, but not unkindly. He simply offers her a wistful smile, as a conclusion.

".. I.. was going to leave your earrings in your room.. At that point, I still thought--.." Her voice dies down, her natural chill intensifying ever so slightly before her arms tightened around him and she opted to move on. ".. I'm glad I went in there." She murmured and gently nudged her head against his hand. ".. I will.. collect more of my own clothing and move it when we return. As comfy as yours are.. I can't steal them all the time." She hummed.

"If you wanted to divest me of clothes, all you need do is ask." He gives a short, soft laugh, his expression softening as he gently combs his fingers through her hair, eyes settled on her own. "...I always did wonder why it was my room you had ventured to, instead of your own. It makes much sense, now." He gives her a gentle squeeze. "I am here, Sayuri. As... I hope to always be."

Sayuri snickered lightly at his comment, before her head slowly sinks down to rest against him as his fingers comb through her hair once more. ".. It felt only right that I returned them to your quarters.. I.. did not expect to find you there.. But I'm glad I did." Her arms returned a light squeeze, a soft exhale leaving her. ".. And I'm happier for your presence." She murmured.

He lingers in the moment; eyes closed as his arms curled around her, a needing embrace that perpetuated in silence before he punctuated it with a sigh, given from a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "...I would say I cannot imagine what thoughts raced through your mind, then, but..." He cradles her closer, brow furrowed. "...I can. More than I want to. More than I would like. You... You had thought me dead. Just as I had, when..." He trails, words hanging quietly without conclusion for a long, silent moment. "...When you returned to me at the lakeside, I cannot describe the relief... No matter the horrors we endured aboard that boat, and for the sound of the ocean that accompanied it... I think I will always associate the gentle sound of water with that kinder moment, there."

".. I did." She confirmed quietly, clinging herself a little closer in response to his cradling. ".. The relief is.. indescribable, yet the both of us had it so.. we know." Her head pressed against him a little tighter, a slow, drawn-out exhale leaving her. ".. The lakeside.. The night before.. our first kiss." Her lips curled into a faint smile. ".. Or first kisses. We.. shared a few."

"How I wanted to kiss you, there and then." Eir spoke softly, pulling his lips into a line as he thought. "...Numerous times. So many missed opportunities, and yet..." Another, quieter sigh that serves to warm his expression. "I am far from unhappy regarding that turn of events, but I still wish that I would have... Said something, first. Or perhaps ventured somewhere a little more romantic." His expression shifts into a shorter sort of pout, then. "...But likely, nerves would have gotten the better of me, then."

".. Missed opportunities.. that many of been for the better, at that point in time.." She uncoiled one arm from him and let it slip up towards his cheek, seeking to gently cup it and caress it with her thumb. "Well.. I, for one, am happy about your accidental kiss and your little panic until I kissed you back." Her smile curled into a small, teasing smirk. ".. Which I'm never going to let you live down, by the way."

"It was an accident in place and time only." Eir retorted, the pout like frown having not budged an ilm, even if his brows lofted in humour. "The intent had been there for considerable time." He pauses, to allow his lips to crawl into a mirroring smirk of her own. "...And has never truly left." He quietly murmurs, head rocked into her hand. "...I hope you never cease to tease me of it. You always smile when you do." He grins.

Sayuri snickered quietly, her head tilting. ".. I wasn't planning to stop." She paused for a moment and pushed herself up a touch, dragging herself a little further up as to move her head closer to his, smiling. "And speaking of kissing.." She murmured, leaning herself forwards as she sought to gently settle her lips against his.

Eir lids his gaze as her lips meet with his own, a soft murmur as he sank into the kiss. Content to simply let himself sink into the pillows and the bed with her laying atop him; if he'd had any inclination to move before, he certainly hadn't, now. Only after they had joined for several long moments does he opt to part, and only then, barely. "...As sweet as the first time..." He whispered, gazing reverently to her. "I love you, Sayuri." A quiet pause, and a gentle smile. "I can think of worse ways to spend a sun, cuddled up together in bedsheets..."

Sayuri smiled softly amidst the kiss, her head leaning forwards a bit further as it broke in order to gently and affectionately nudge her forehead against his. The hand on his cheek moved its thumb to caress it once more. "I love you too, Eir." She murmured, tightening the wrap of her arm.

He lingers in the embrace; the sensation of her hand at his cheek, cold but gentle. His chest held against her own as his heart thrummed a more peaceful rhythm. It wasn't unusual for him to watch her as he did, but it was not often so... Obvious, as it was now; catching little things when she had least suspected him looking, of more simple and otherwise ordinary moments. But now, here, Eir simply stared, lips parted in quiet awe. The pale, silk-white of her hair, the mismatched jewels of Seeker eyes... Eir can only bring himself to swallow the lump that had welled in his throat as he admired her.

...I have always thought her beautiful. Compared her to the moon for it. I have often thought as much when i watched over her as she slept, or in the peaceful, quieter moments. But... I do not think she has ever caught my expression...

Not that i ever intended to hide it. Especially not now, but...

...How did i ever get so lucky?

Sayuri straightened her head a touch, only to let it dip to the side in a curious tilt as she watched him, letting one ear droop while the other perked up. ".. What?" She finally asked, after a prolonged silence of her simply returning a stare.

"N-nothing, just..." Eir trailed as his words faltered, almost in a half-stammer as he caught himself. An excuse is ready, but that too is dismissed by a swallowed lump. "No, not... Not nothing." He confessed, with a small shake of his head that left him looking askance. "...You are beautiful, Sayuri. I... I just do not have words for how."

A small huff left her, with the tiniest red tint creeping onto her cheeks. She gave a light shake of her and lowered it down to rest against his shoulder. A slight noise of disagreement left her, yet no words followed.

His lips turn down at her denial, but he offers her the comfort of his arms, despite it. A gentle hand meets her head, slowly caressing. He had meant to linger in the moment, in the quiet, before thoughts pushed through the quiet and out of his lips. "...Who told you, Sayuri? That... That you were ever anything less?"

Sayuri's head gently pressed against his hand as it settled upon it, her gaze slowly rising towards him at his question. ".. About my looks or.. just in general?"

"Both." He answers, quietly. "...Who ever told you that you were anything less than wonderful?"

".. X'aoki, for one. A boy a little older than me, X'mahti.. before I was.. discarded." She paused, ears flattening as she lingered in a long silence, with a deep breath finally being taken before she continued. "..Grym.. Anyone of his lot that ever dealt with me.." Another pause, as that deep breath was finally exhaled. ".. The list is a bit lengthy.. But inevitably, it is something I started telling myself, too."

The frown does not budge an ilm from Eir's features. No response is given for some considerable time, only the tightening of his embrace as he hold her. "...They are wrong." Were the only words he managed to whisper, at least at first. But the frown persists, a small, wavered sigh of defeat. "...I... I have not the words to tell you how. If only you could see yourself how I do, then..." He trails, nudging his head close against hers.

Sayuri's ears drooped, her head moving to nudge back against his. ".. Before I was discarded from my tribe.. I only had three people who were genuinely kind to me.. Most werent, when X'aoki's stance about me was known.. And from the time of my retrieval by.. Grym's.. people, until I went to Doma.. the only kindness I received was the kindness he falsified and then tore away from me to mess with my head.." She paused, dragging herself closer to him. ".. Even in Doma, there were those who were unkind to me.. but I had support, that time around. My view of myself.. diminished severely, by the time I was involved with.. the illicit affairs of Kugane. But other than that, a lot of my opinions about my looks specifically.. stems from my scars." Her tone had died down a touch amidst her sentence, a slightly pained look taking to her features. ".. Perhaps it will change, at some point.."

Eir listens as she speaks. A knit of his brow as she spoke of her father, of her tormentor, gaze almost steely before it softens into sorrow. His hand continues it's gentle caress, slowly moving upwards to her clipped ear. His thumb slowly traces the edge of it, gaze settled upon her as he collected his thoughts. "I remember the sun I first felt them." He speaks softly, quietly. "...In the bath. Before I could see. I... I know you do not like them. That you want to hide them. Some of them." He regards her quietly, a whisper of breath from his lips. "...But to me, they... Are a part of you. And I have yet to find a part that I do not love."

Sayuri's ear twitched briefly at the touch, yet made no attempt to escape it. She moved a hand down to settle it atop his chest, a soft exhale leaving her. ".. I remember it too." She murmured quietly. ".. It.. was the first time I truly.. willingly let anyone find out about them.. through more than just words. Which.. might sound weird, but.. it felt nice. That it.. was by choice." His words makes the pained expression fade, replaced by a small smile. ".. I love you."

His response does not come immediately. Her sweeter words seem to hang in the air, as Eir's gaze settles on her own once again, as it did just some mere moments ago. His hand traces from the tip of her ear down her head, combing through her hair to her shoulder, where he pauses. The familiar hesitation begins to settle in again, but he does not allow it to remain. Warm fingertips summit her shoulder to trace over her back; beyond her clothes, should she be wearing any, gently over each ridge and welt of her scarred flesh. But his expression remains the same; adoring and speechless. "...I love you too..." He whispers, gazing upwards. "...All of you."

Sayuri's eyes shut briefly as his hand wanders, a little bit of an unsteady breath being taken as his fingers slip in under her shirt to caress the scars. She lightly dips her head down to nudge it against him before lifting it back up to gaze back at him. ".. Despite the fact my back looks like I've been the scratch toy of a coeurl?" A question whose answer she likely already knew, yet asked anyway. Her lips curled into a weak smile.

"All of you." Eir repeats, as to affirm the answer to her question. His hand settles against her back, even as his fingertips trace the lines. "This world has not been kind to you, Sayuri..." He begins with confidence, which wanes a few ilms after speaking. "And... Those people who told you such cruel untruths... They may outnumber me, a-and... They may be louder than me, but..." His breath is fought for beneath the sincerity of his words. "...But for so long as I live, I will speak their truth." A gentle nudge of his forehead is settled to hers. "...And I will be here long after they have gone."

".. They do.. And they are.. However.." She spoke quietly, moving her hand up towards his cheek with the intent to gently cup it. ".. I am still drawn towards your voice rather than theirs. Even if.. I struggle to view myself in the same light you do.. I know I have you at my side.. And that outweighs their constant yelling quite often." She settled her own forehead against his, returning a gentle nudge of her own.

Eir lingers in her words. The sensation of her forehead against his. "I... Am glad, Sayuri." The smile re-emerges at his lips, eyes opening to her own once again. "...Perhaps one sun, you will see. But until then... I will not stop telling you." A pause, and a small hum. "...And even beyond then. I am glad you find comfort in my voice... You will not soon stop hearing it."

She flashed a small smile, allowing a faint snicker to leave her. ".. Promise?"

"I promise." Eir hushed, smiling as he briefly joined his lips with hers. "...For.." A hesitation in his words, as his hand finds her own, fingertips weaving through hers. "As long as time will let me..."

...For the cycles we have left, however many there might be. I... I intend to make the most of them. I...

Sayuri's smile brightened a touch, before she leaned herself over to meet his lips with her own, her head then moving for her forehead to settle against his while her fingers intertwined with his. ".. Which will be many more cycles to come."

Eir takes a small, wavering breath; the silence held unspoken words between them, as his eyes searched her own. "I-I..." He began, and just as abruptly ended. No continuation was given, only the need to meet his lips with her own, gently squeezing her hand in lieu of conversation.

I... I cannot. Not... Not right here on the boat...

I have much thinking to do, and... So much to... To...

...

Sayuri tilted her head a touch, her lips parting slightly as if she was about to question his brief stuttering - yet as their lips met, she was in no hurry to break the kiss. She returned a gentle squeeze of her own hand, while the other again let its thumb slip across his cheek gently.

A soft sigh of relief murmurs from between their joined lips, eyes closed as he settled his head against the chilly fingertips of her hand. He lingers long, much longer than he usually might in the join of their embrace, a small gasp for breath when he eventually opted to part. But his hand stays with her own, even as he settles, and finally opts to speak, a much different sentence than the one started. "...Suppose it is not so terrible a sun if we never leave the bed." He muses. "...I could have all I ever want in my arms... And anything else I could need, within reach."

...I can still enjoy every moment, regardless. Right now, on this boat...

We have nothing but time, and eachother.

[gastlygallows]

Every Mort Has Her Day

Chapter 1 (AO3)

Pairing: Evil Morty/Morticia

Rating: 🔞

Words: 2,177

Warnings: Kidnapping (kinda?), making out, emotional manipulation, selfcest (duh)

Notes: Morticia is intended as a reader insert but this is 3rd person POV. Smut will be in chapter 2.

“DARKEST ABYSS OTOME TWIN RAPE SCENE”

Morticia typed into hentaihaven’s mobile website’s searchbar, curled up atop her bed. The best solution to insomnia on a school night was masturbating until she passed out.

As the search results loaded onto her phone, she scrolled them with one hand and reached her other underneath the pillow for her vibrator. She’d forgotten to wash it last time, so she’d need to pick off the cum crust. She could hear her mom rummaging in the kitchen downstairs and didn’t want to risk leaving her room to clean it in the bathroom, considering how embarrassing it was last time to get caught with an eight inch chunk of silicone in her hand.

It was a particular scene from a hentai OVA she was craving, in which the main character got double penetrated by a pair of twins that had captured her as their pet.

She specifically wanted the scene with the twins, not their pet lion and snake who also got a turn.

The electric hum of a portal opening in her room snapped her out of her lewd mission and had her shoving the pink vibrator back under the pillow. She jolted up out of bed wearing lacy blue underwear and a yellow tanktop.

“Grandpa, hold on!” She cried out, pulling the sheets and comforter from her bed to look for her pajama shorts. “I-I have to find my shorts!!”

But her pleas were ignored and it was not her grandpa emerging from the portal.

Two Morties wearing Citadel uniforms stepped out, one of them rubbing his gloved hands together at seeing her ass. 

The other elbowed him. “Aw geez, we’re supposed to act professional!”

He shrugged, trying to act coy. “C-C’mon, can’t we at least--at least admire the merchandise?”

Morticia growled and chucked her pillow at them, missing and sending it flying through the portal instead. “Get out of my room, Morty!”

The Morties pointed towards her unhidden vibrator and snickered. 

“Th-that thing is huge!”

“This one must be a size queen, huh?”

Morticia, face red, picked up her vibrator, jumped on her bed, then lunged at them, landing on one and hitting him across the face with her dried cum. “Sh-shut the fuck up!”

“Ow!!”

The other Morty behind her clamped his hand over her mouth, giving his partner the opportunity to smack the dildo from her hand and cuff her. 

She tried to bite into his knuckles, but the gloves were bite-proof. 

A drunk Beth knocked at the door. “Morti?? Are you--did you hurt yourself with that vibrator again?”

Morticia tried to scream.

One of the Morties cleared his throat and attempted to sound like a girl. 

“N-No, Mom!” He said in an unnaturally high voice. “I was just screaming because it felt so good pounding my own pussy!” 

“Well…” There was an awkward, disoriented silence behind the door. “Okay, then… Try to keep it down.”

Morticia banged her cuffed fists at the boy below her as they took delight in her frustration. 

“Oh, please,” the Morty behind her said, pulling her up to stand on her feet. “N-Not like we meant to walk in on you being horny.”

“Whoa,” the other said, reaching up to cup her breasts beneath her top. “Bro these are huge for a Morticia!”

She squirmed and attempted to elbow the Morty behind her, but he kneed her in the back first. 

“You’re just now noticing?”

“Hard to notice when I’m being beat with a plastic dick, dick!” He picked up the vibrator from the floor and sniffed it. 

“C’mon, let’s fucking go!” The other shoved Morticia through the portal. 

Morty stuffed the vibrator in his pants pocket, where it noticeably protruded. 

As they entered the enclave of green, Morticia could feel her eyes tearing up at sheer fear of the unknown awaiting her.

She'd only visited the Citadel a few times, which was enough to know that Morticias were a hot commodity. She didn't want to go there again, especially without Rick and without a portal gun. 

The Morty removed his hand from her mouth when they arrived in a spacious bedroom.

The canopy bed was made neatly with plain black sheets and a large set of windows circled around the perimeters of the walls, granting a birds eye view to the city below.

"Wh-where are we?" She asked. "Oh god, am I being sex trafficked?! This has to be on the level of a war crime or something, r-right?"

Standing in the corner in front of a mirror was another Morty dressed in black, adjusting his collar with an uncharacteristic confident smile.

“Hello, Morticia,” he said smoothly, looking at her reflection. “I’m sorry to pull you out of your room so late at night.”

“W-Well, uh.” She straightened her back and cleared her throat, inwardly grimacing at the sound of the portal closing behind them. “I wasn’t doing anything important. Just trying to masturbate and get to bed! I have a science test tomorrow.”

She narrowed her eyes as the cuffs vanished from her wrists. “That’s all.”

The Morty in black reached for a red tie on his dresser and, impressively, looped it under his collar and began tying it all by himself.

Morticia wrung her hands together now that he wasn’t looking at her and cleared her throat. “So, uh, is this like a prostitution call or?”

The guard next to her rolled his eyes and swung an arm towards the Morty in black. “Do you see him putting on more clothes?!”

“You abducted me in my underwear!”

The Morty in black waved a hand at them. “Leave us. Thank you.”

Without another word, the two Morties that had snatched Morticia away out of her room in the dead of night left into a portal, one of them still carrying her vibrator in his pocket. Thief.

“I apologize for my guards’ rambunctious behavior,” Morty continued, pointing over to the sliding closet door behind Morticia. “There’s a dress and a bra in there for you. Don’t worry. I won’t look.”

He walked over to the other corner, free of mirrors, and with both hands behind his back he patiently waited.

Morticia looked up to the ceiling.

“There are no cameras in here,” he assured her without so much as turning his head.

“O-Okay.” 

Inside of the closet was indeed a plain but frilly black dress with short sleeves and a matching bra that was a cup size too small. 

She squeezed the fabric to the undergarment and then her own boob, taking some amount of pride in knowing that this could only mean she was bigger than he’d expected.

* * * * *

Morticia sat directly across from Morty at a rectangular table, shyly glancing between him and the floor as a uniformed Rick served them dinner–steak and potatoes and, at her request, chicken tenders with fries. 

There was also a bottle of wine and some empty glasses between them, which led her to think that a Rick would be joining them but to her surprise Morty nodded at the servant and a glass was poured for each of them.

There were too many seats at this table for it to be intended for only two people, adding to a sense of growing unease as she felt his unwavering gaze.

Since when does a Morty keep eye contact this long?

She’d been oggled at plenty of times before by her male counterparts, but there was always a juvenile nature to it and an immaturity that this Morty was totally lacking.

This was the most confident Morty she’d ever seen. Not a single stutter. 

“S-So, uh,” she finally said when the server Rick left the room, picking up a fry and biting into half of it. “The Citadel.”

Morty watched her with half lidded eyes, his cheek resting against his palm. “Yeah. The Citadel.”

“You must be one important Morty. To have a Rick serving you.”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” He sat upright and took his glass of wine between his fingers, taking a sip. “I’m the democratically elected president.”

Morticia nearly choked on her fry. “President?! Democracy?!”

“I imagine you must be quite out of the loop?”

“I’ve never exactly been in the loop when it comes to the Citadel, if I’m being honest.”

“Given your origins, that isn’t surprising, so I’ll just tell you: C-137, the Rick who founded the Citadel in the first place, killed the council and for a while this place was left without any leadership. An election was decided, I ran my campaign, and I won.”

He shrugged, as if he were explaining something as simple as tying his shoes. “In part, I won because no one expected me to. When your opponents underestimate you, it gives you a significant edge.”

She looked at her wine, then decided to take a drink of water, instead. “And the other part?”

Morty furrowed his brows and looked away from her for the first time since they’d sat down. “The other part was knowing Ricks and how they think.”

“You must be like the smartest Morty ever.” Morticia scratched the side of her head and laughed awkwardly. “I'm sorry to say, but I'm pretty dumb. Estrogen and stuff makes it impossible for me to do math right, so…I dunno what you want with me? You said you know my origins, though, so you must already know that? K-Kinda goes without saying…”

“I can only know what's on paper.” Morty halfheartedly shrugged. “That you’re one of the few surviving Morticias out of a batch cloned in the lab formerly known as Labius57. Graduated with your sisters and eventually assigned to three different Ricks and two separate families but they keep dying on you and then it’s back to the auction house.”

She sighed, placing her head in both of her hands and numbly staring down at the table, any semblance of appetite lost. “That pretty much sums it up. My life isn’t exactly great. Last week my Rick had me shove a bag of alien drugs up my pussy to smuggle through customs. I’m not a pocket, damn it!

“That’s why I brought you here.” Morty spoke candidly, slowly moving a hand to his heart. “If you want to leave behind Ricks and fake families that don’t love you, I’ll be more than happy to have you by my side. But not as a sidekick.”

Morticia perked up and tilted her head. “That sounds great, but what’s the catch?”

Morty laughed for a moment, standing up out of his seat and walking over to her.

He pet her dark curls through his fingers. “The only catch is that you keep my secrets, do what I ask, and never betray me. Now, I know what you’re thinking: how many Morticias has he been through already? I have one ex, but that’s it. I recalibrated what I was looking for after that, which led me to your file.”

“W-Wow, really? You never pursued a Jessica?”

He shrugged. “No. Was never an option for me, anyway.”

“I’ve never dated a Morty before, but...” She shyly smiled up at him and placed her hand over his, relishing in the warmth of his skin and squeezing his palm. “But can I be honest? I’ve always had a selfcest fetish and when I first learned there were a bunch of boy versions of me I was both turned on and scared c-cause, y’know, I don’t wanna be like a slut or anything so I’ve been too nervous to hit on myself–”

Morty gripped her hair and pulled her head up ever so slightly, leaning over to push his lips against hers and pull her into a kiss.

She kissed him back with an open mouth, relishing in the taste of his tongue that was still wet with blood from his steak.

They made out with raspy breaths, Morticia moaning into him pathetically, closing her eyes and wishing that she could just melt into him–this Morty was everything that she could ever aspire to be, everything that every Morty should aspire to be: independent, confident, free of the cosmic grip of their infinite grandpas…

It really must be my lucky day, she thought, wrapping her arms around his torso and pulling him closer to her, deliberately pushing her breasts against his chest. 

Morty’s mouth parted from her and he pulled away before she could go in for another kiss, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

He was panting. “Well, Morticia? Do you accept?”

“I–”

He pinched her cheek. “I’ll teach you to be my equal and we’ll go on adventures, just you and me.”

“Adventures?” She echoed, stars in her eyes. “I-I haven’t been on a real adventure in forever.”

“Then let’s go on one! Right fucking now.” He pulled her up to her feet and fetched his portal gun from his back pocket, blasting open a green rift just feet away from them.

A breeze sifted through their hair as the unknown awaited. 

They nodded at each other and jumped in, hand in hand.

[vilnan]

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles

rating: general

pairing: nate sewell/female detective (charlie langford)

word count: 661

A/N: originally written in 2021 (so well before book 3!) but i've never posted it. i still like it, so i'm releasing it into the wild!! :')

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

Nate has been quiet for a while. At least ten minutes, maybe closer to fifteen now.

Charlie watches impatiently as Nate circles yet another word on the paper and hums underneath his breath, chuckling a little while reading along. He seems pleased so perhaps Charlie shouldn't feel as nervous as she is but her long nails click against the wooden surface of the table at an alarming speed, her ordered macchiato completely forgotten next to her hand.

It was too sweet, anyway.

Charlie sighs. Nate looks up at her and smiles softly and she finds herself wondering how he would look like with a pair of eyeglasses framing his warm brown eyes.

Peak sexy, she decides, no doubt. Also even more like a librarian. The thought makes her hide her grin to her sweater's sleeve.

"You're not usually this impatient," Nate comments as she stretches her neck to see what page he is on.

"I know," Charlie answers. "I tried a couple of new things on this chapter and I want to know what you think."

"I noticed," Nate says. He seems amused but not at her writing, she's certain, he would never be so unkind. Most likely he's endeared by her impatience, something she doesn't show often. "I'm done soon, I promise."

Sometimes Charlie wonders at how incredibly easily Nate makes promises. Sweetly, genuinely. Truly content at keeping them. It's probably one of the reasons she loves him so much.

Charlie continues clicking her blue fingernails on the table. Click click click. She's not usually so nervous-- Nate has read all of her novels so far with great enthusiasm, completely genuine in his praise and gentle with constructive criticism.

He is a fast reader, so it takes him only a few moments to finish the draft of Charlie's next book. After he's done, he smiles at Charlie so incredibly affectionately that she almost feels like punching something. It's been a while; maybe she should go a few rounds with Adam at the warehouse after they leave Haley's bakery to blow off some steam.

Charlie links her fingers together and looks at Nate with a raised eyebrow. "Well? What do you think?"

Nate's eye corners crinkle. He reaches over the table to sweep his thumb on her cheek bone. "Every day I remind myself how lucky I am to have found you."

Charlie can't help but laugh with a small eye roll. What a sweet man she loves. She would do anything for him.

Nate takes a thoughtful bite of his muffin. Chocolate today instead of blueberry.

"You're keeping me in suspense," she says and crosses her arms only to uncross them a few moments later.

Nate tuts.

Charlie pouts.

Then Nate chuckles at the look on her face. "I thought it was lovely as always," he says softly, fondness fulfilling his voice. "The way you describe the love between these two young women in your story is amazing."

Charlie's lips bow upwards. "Thank you," she murmurs. He steals the muffin from Nate's plate and takes a bite. The chocolate is like velvet on her tongue.

"It feels very personal to me," Nate continues, a thoughtful look on his face. Charlie hesitates.

Nate's familiar dark brown eyes are warm and non-judgemental.

"It is. In a way," she answers after a moment. She doesn't feel like talking about it, though, and Nate knows her well enough to notice but not to push it.

"Let's hear the professional opinion," Charlie says instead.

Nate laughs, soft, loud and free. "A professional, am I?" He seems impossibly amused by her words.

Charlie's heart beats in the rhythm of affection at the unhidden delight in Nate's tone.

"You are!" she says. "Kind of. Basically my unofficial editor at this point."

Nate laughs again. "If you insist," he chuckles. Charlie smiles. She loves him so much she feels dizzy with it.

Then Nate clears his throat. "So," he begins, "here is what I would change…"

[cainluvr69]

Main Story 2 Chapter 20 - The Willingness to Lead (First Half)

Previous Chapter

1 - What You Can't Live Without

Eva: Listen closely, child of Bain.

Bradley: My name's Bradley. Get it through your skull already, Eva. Remember it, and I'll make it worth it.

Eva: Fufu, what an impudent little brat. Well then, I'll be sure to remember you. Listen closely, Bradley.

Bradley: Yeah.

Eva: We are Northern wizards. We bear strong and free souls. And so to live with strength and freedom… You mustn't have something you cannot live without.

Bradley: Something I can't live without?

Eva: Yes.

Bradley: Even like a magical focus?

Eva: Yes. Though you may love it as though it were an extension of yourself, you must always be ready to part with it. Both you and I are proud and solitary kings. No matter how many things we encounter capable of moving our hearts. For should your heart be stolen by someone else, you will become their prisoner.

Bradley: Prisoner? You mean just havin' something irreplaceable in the world at all makes you one?

Eva: Here in the North, acquiring something we value the same as our own lives turns that something into a chain, binding us. Just look at Oz. If there is nothing to move your heart, there is nothing you need pay heed. He has the most isolated heart in the world. And because of it, he is invincible.

Bradley: What about you, Eva?

Eva: Excuse me?

Bradley: Would you be able to get rid of something even if you loved it more than anything?

Eva: Of course. Do you really think I would be controlled by the likes of my own heart?

✦✧☾✧✦

Murr: Oh, my beloved… If it were for you, I wouldn't mind changing the very nature of my soul. As long as you are always yourself, it doesn't matter if I'm no longer me.

Shylock: … I'm aware love afflicts both fools and the wise equally, but… It's still quite a sight to see someone like you throw away your pride with such vulgarities. Changing your soul isn't a gesture of love or adoration. It's an expression of dependency, is it not?

Murr: I'm fine with being dependent. Belonging to the one you love is happiness, don't you think? I don't need an immutable soul. Protecting your heart as it is is a lovely thing. Persistence is a beautiful trait. But if change is unnecessary, then that would mean both you and I wouldn't need companionship in this vast galaxy of ours. If the friction needed to polish a gem is unnecessary, then the collision, collapse, supernova, and subsequent birth of the hundreds of millions of stars shining above us is also unnecessary. I want you to hurt me and in doing so, bring something I've never noticed before to my attention. I want you to show me things I don't yet know about, leave me scared and anxious…I'd enjoy that kind of surprise. I love this beautiful world. My hands will not reach to the stars above… So I am always thinking of them.

Shylock: … Though I'm sure this will come as a disappointment… I don't know anyone who shines as brightly as you.

Murr: Ahaha. Truly, what a disappointment.

Shylock: …So please… Don't say you'll change the essence of who you are…

✦✧☾✧✦

Rustica: What a fun day today has been. I'd be happy if you felt the same. Zara.

???: I won't forget today until the day I die. Because of dear, kind Aria, I was able to make the best memories I shall ever have in my life…

Rustica: Let's make more wonderful memories together. As my beloved Aria's elder sister, you are my elder sister as well.

???: …

Rustica: And we are both wizards, as well. I was raised freely and unhidden in the Sapphire Castle. So, Zara. One day, you too, shall have your freedom…

???: Lord Rustica. Please let me see your face one last time before you leave… Please, closer… So that I may engrave it into my eyelids, that I never forget it.

Rustica: Please, feel free. But you needn't engrave anything anywhere. I will still come to see you regardless. As often as you wish, as long as you still desire it.

???: …Thank you very much. But, I already… Please don't say such kind things to me. I'll become more wicked by the day. Had I never met you… Had the flame of desire never ignited in my chest… I could have loved both Aria and this world.

Rustica: Zara?

???: …Such beautiful eyes… Kind eyes, in which only a beautiful world exists… From the day you were born, you were beloved by all, blessed like the protagonist of a fairy tale. Living a life unhurt, unafraid, never faced with anything filthy or unclean… I am sure your beautiful soul, Lord Rustica, will never change, no matter what the world may offer you.

Rustica: Zara. You are also beloved and celebrated, you know. I love you. And I know Aria does, too.

???: … …I love you too… …Lord Rustica…

✦✧☾✧✦

Owen: ……

Cain: Owen…

Owen turned his face away, without even a smirk on his lips. I glared at him. I didn’t think I could do anything else. I couldn’t see what expression Arthur was making right now. It’s not as if I couldn’t see him because of my injury from the <Great Calamity>. But I felt so guilty, the kind of guilt that can’t be properly formed into words, that I couldn’t bear to look at him. That was when I realized something. I was trying to come up with some sort of excuse for all of this. What the hell am I doing?

Arthur: It’s alright. I have an escort. Ah, right there.

Arthur glanced over towards me. Owen was still not looking at me, his arms crossed–I’d never seen him act like this before. And then, I saw him sneak a glance at me. I just kept glaring at him full force. I’d never wanted Arthur to see me like this. I hated Owen as much as I hated myself. But for just a moment, I saw something I couldn’t put a name to flickering in his eyes. That just made me feel even more guilty, and I didn’t know why. It was as if…I was seeing the little Owen because of how messed up things had gotten. But soon enough, he met my glare with his own equally sharp one. Like a beast.

Cain: (If he’s making that kind of face, he has to be the real one.)

Arthur: Alright, thank you. Owen. Could you come here too, please?

Arthur took one of Owen’s arms and together, they came over to me. I had no idea what to do. Owen didn’t, either. All I could do was steel myself and look up at Arthur. He…wasn’t looking at me with contempt, or even disappointment. He was in his blue training outfit, and his clear blue eyes were sparkling. Seeing him like that…I felt my face turn grim, and I started to yell at him.

Cain: Artie, what are you thinking? Only high ranking military officers are allowed in here! Grunts like you should know their place!

I lightly knocked Arthur away and then jabbed my finger towards his chest. The worst thing that could happen here would be anyone else here finding out who Arthur really was. I was just trying to get him out of here safely. He looked startled at first, but upon realizing what was going on, decided to match my pace.

Arthur: My sincerest apologies. However…

Owen: You don’t need to apologize, Artie. Just sit down right there. Next to Sir Knight.

Owen roughly forced Arthur down next to me. The women and officers I’d been talking with quickly moved out of his way. It was me, Arthur, Owen, plus the women by me and Owen. That was our current lineup.

Woman: Have a glass. One for you, too.

Owen and I were handed glasses while we glared at each other over Arthur’s head. I asked him something, keeping my voice low.

Cain: What are you trying to pull? This is a dirty prank.

Owen: Hmph. The only one playing around here is you. If you’re really so sure of yourself, then surely you can keep doing the same in front of Sir Prince?

Woman: Prince?

Owen’s slip of the tongue stabbed a bit of fear into me, but he simply crossed his legs and smiled at the lady next to him.

Owen: I’m talking about myself. I’m the prince of the Cerberus Kingdom. And I’ll bite your throat out.

Owen had meant it as a threat, but because of the alcohol, the woman took it as a joke. She blushed, and then tilted back her head and presented her neck.

Woman: Ooh, how scary. But I don’t mind if you want to eat me right up.

Owen: Are you stupid? You’d get along great with Sir Knight. I’ve fed him to my dogs before, too.

Cain: Come on…

Right as I was about to argue, Arthur suddenly moved to look at me. He took up my whole field of vision, the only thing I could see.

Arthur: I need to talk to you. Err, rather, I have something I’d like to speak with you about, Sir Cain.

Cain: What’s up, Artie? Is it something so important you had to talk to me here? It’s already late. Kids should be in bed by now.

Arthur: Kids?

Arthur raised one eyebrow. I think…I made him a little mad.

Arthur: It’s an important conversation regarding your honor, Sir Cain. You are a very devoted person, but should you have betrayed yourself to that end…

I saw pale fingers extend past Arthur’s cheek, and then Owen grabbed Arthur’s face and forcibly turned his head. He murmured something into Arthur’s ear. They glanced at me during their quiet conversation, leaving me completely baffled by their newfound…familiarity. This couldn’t be anything good. I suddenly felt restless.

Arthur: …Understood.

While I was being set adrift in a sea of confusion, Arthur simply nodded, and moved away from Owen. This time he got closer to me, putting his arm over the back of the sofa. Arthur’s lips approached my ear. His hair and skin smelled of expensive perfume, the kind that no amount of effort could hide. The idea of having a one on one talk with him was making me just a little bit nervous. Over Arthur’s shoulder, I could see Owen. Arthur whispered into my ear.

Arthur: …Please don’t do anything that would deprive you of your knightly spirit.

I didn’t know how much he’d heard from Owen, but the sincere and earnest tone in his voice made my chest ache. As Arthur pulled away from me, I whispered something back.

Cain: …Don’t misunderstand. I’m trying to win over the Western military to get information on Nicholas. It’s dangerous for you to be here. You should leave immediately. Oz and Riquet should still be…

I glanced up, and my words trailed off on their own. There were heavy footsteps making their way towards us. They were even and composed, like those of higher ranked or commissioned officers. The lively atmosphere around us had become tense. Maybe the general they’d talked about earlier, General Barnett, was here.

Gilles: ……

If it was the Western general, it was entirely probable that he knew what Central Country’s crown prince looked like.

Cain: (I can’t even imagine how things will blow up if the prince of an unfriendly neighboring country is found in a military club.)

I immediately pulled Arthur closer to me, my hand on his back.

Arthur: …Wha–?!

Cain: What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well? You must’ve drank too much. We should get you on your way quick. Owen!

Owen: Excuse me?

Cain: Take care of Artie for me. Or at least take him to the inn.

Owen narrowed his eyes at me.

Owen: And why do I have to do what you tell me to, Sir Knight?

Arthur also looked up at me, frowning a bit.

Arthur: I am still not done talking with you.

I wasn’t listening to either of them. I was busy worrying about if General Barnett was here, and I picked up the book I’d dropped earlier with one hand. This was a popular novel the general liked. I’d been reading it aloud to try and catch his attention. That was the plan, at least.

Cain: Sorry, but please, I need you both to leave. I need to read this book.

Arthur: Right now?

Owen: Why?

Cain: Because the general likes it. He’ll be excited if we like the same things, right?

Arthur: Do you like it, Cain?

Cain: Well, I haven’t read it yet…

Arthur: He won’t be happy if you’re only pretending. When he realizes you’re lying, he’ll only be sad about it.

Arthur’s words reminded me of my mom, and my heart clenched in my chest. I shook my head, a bitter taste at the back of my throat. I glanced around, and then murmured something to him.

Cain: …You and Oz are no good at telling lies. That’s why this is something I have to do. I’m doing what I do best.

Arthur: Trust isn’t something so easily won. Trust balanced on top of lies will come crashing down when it’s most important. If trust is lost on the battlefield, then who can you entrust your life to?

I felt like he’d just punched me in the face. Exactly like Arthur had said, morale dropped under leadership that couldn’t be trusted. Everyone put their life on the line for their pride and sense of justice at some point. And if you weren’t sincere about it, all you’d get is corrupted authority and false justice. That’s why you can’t just start running forward. Arthur’s eyes held the same noble look I’d seen in the portraits of previous kings in Granvelle Castle.

Arthur: Cain, you are my knight. You don’t need to concoct any devious plots.

My heart was wavering in my chest. I wanted to live up to Arthur’s pure, unsullied feelings. But… I think someone who betrays those feelings would serve him better. Nicholas and the white-haired woman. The sunken Adams Island expedition. Should I just give up and try a different method of attack? My honor doesn't matter. What even is true devotion? What would Leno or Shino do if they were in my place?

2 - Touched by the General's Words

I stole a glance at Owen. He was frowning, and then he sighed as if to say “Well, there’s no helping it.” He reached over Arthur and put his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer. And then, he whispered something in my ear. Owen’s voice was oddly shrill, as if he was embarrassed about something.

Owen: Hey… If it’s the only way, then. I’ll kill the Western general for you.

My eyes widened. Owen frowned, making a weird face, like he was trying to hide his embarrassment. He was messing with his bangs like he was annoyed, but he was eyeing me with a certain sense of pride.

Owen: But only for tonight, okay?

My blood drained out of my face and I shook my head.

Cain: Don’t even think about doing something like that. It’d become a massive diplomatic issue.

Owen: …Hah?

Pretty sure Owen thought that he was offering to do a good deed, which was why he was so embarrassed about it, but it was still undeniably an offer of assassination. A Northern wizard killing the Western army’s general in front of Central’s prince was just a recipe for disaster.

Cain: You don’t need to come up with any plots, just take Arthur and…

Owen: Plots? I’m saying I’ll help you, and you say I’m plotting?

Cain: I’m grateful for the offer, but right now, your talents aren’t really what I need here.

Owen’s trunk appeared out of nowhere. I looked up at the ceiling, and then tried again.

Cain: I said not right now, right?

Owen: I’m going to turn you to stone. I don’t take orders from anyone.

Woman: D-didn’t he just pull that trunk from nowhere… Was that…magic?

Owen smiled threateningly at the pale woman.

Owen: That’s right. Didn’t I tell you? I’ll bite your throat out.

Arthur: Could you kindly stop, Owen?

Woman: …I–I’m not scared! I’m not scared of wizards. There are so many officers from the Magical Weaponry Division here. Everyone, please…!

Cain: Let’s calm down! Owen, put your trunk away! Absolutely do not open it!

Owen: …Don’t order me around!

Arthur: We’re not giving you orders. Neither Cain nor I are trying to subjugate you, Owen of the North.

Arthur placed his hand on Owen’s arm, and then he looked up at me.

Arthur: This goes for you too, Cain. My desires are not meant to be chains. They shouldn’t keep you from listening to your heart.

Those painful words felt so good. My heart. My thoughts and feelings could change everything. And how easily mine had been changed. What could I do with these feelings?

Gilles: And what is going on here?

Owen and I stood ready at the same time. We didn’t even have to say anything. Both of us were prepared to guard Arthur. I couldn’t see who had spoken. But I could tell enough from the air around them. This was General Barnett. The cheery, drunken sense of relaxation in the club had changed. Not in a bad way. There wasn’t any fear shooting up my spine. But all the soldiers in the room remembered something now that he stood before them. All he had to do was stand in the same room as them, and the Western army’s soldiers remembered their pride. Their spirit. I hadn’t even seen his face, and General Barnett had already overwhelmed us. If he was this charismatic on a normal day, I wondered how far his leadership would take him on the battlefield. Speaking as a soldier from the neighboring country? I wasn’t looking forward to seeing it.

Cain: …My apologies for disturbing you. I am Cain, a former knight of Central Country.

I smiled amiably and held my hand out to him. I could only wonder if he’d accept it. But I only had to worry for a couple seconds. A large hand grasped mine moments later. The same moment, a tall, capable-looking young man appeared in front of me. He had the sociable, reliable air of someone you could call an ideal commanding officer.

Gilles: Gilles Barnett, at your service. Would those be your friends?

Still feeling the strain, I introduced the two of them.

Cain: My subordinates. Artie and Wen.

Owen: You’re a wizard, aren’t you.

Owen announced that right to General Barnett’s face. It caught me off guard for a moment, but I knew why he’d felt that, so I explained it to him.

Cain: Don’t be rude, Wen. Watch your mouth. This is the man who leads the Magical Weaponry Division. Using that many mana stones can make someone have the same presence as a wizard.

Owen: Mana stones…? …Just how many would you have to use to feel like that.

Owen smiled a thin smile at him, the expression dripping with malice and hatred. But General Barnett was unmoved. His eyes moved to Arthur, and he gestured for him to sit down.

Gilles: Please, sit.

Arthur: Thank you, sir.

Although Arthur took a seat, General Barnett did not. Instead, he sat down next to me, taking the place of a woman who had gracefully offered up her seat. His leisurely manner was also a smart one. And it wasn’t like he was trying to intimidate or overpower us. It looked like he was being considerate of us.

Gilles: You said you were a former Central soldier, didn’t you?

Cain: Yes.

The general smiled at me, friendly-like.

Gilles: As the general of Western Country, I could call myself its greatest hero, but surely that means little to a Central knight. From Central’s oldest knight to its youngest trainee, each one is fearlessly brave. Now that’s true glory. They don’t get ahead of themselves when victory’s in sight, and that’s how the names of so many heroes have been engraved in their history. And you are one of them. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Cain: Ah… Thank you very much. I’m undeserving of such praise.

I knew it was nothing more than flattery, but my chest was still full of emotion. Even the general of another country saw the same splendor in the Central knights that I’d admired ever since I was little. Arthur’s eyes also glowed with the praise.

Gilles: And that is?

The general gestured towards the book next to me. Seems like the story about him liking this series was true. Finally, I could work on fulfilling my intended objective here. I picked up the book with vigor.

Cain: A book from a series I like. I’d heard that you enjoyed it as well. I was thinking of reading some aloud, if you’d be fine with that.

The general smiled at me, and I looked over my shoulder towards Owen.

Cain: Wen. Cover Artie’s ears for me, would you?

Owen: What? Why?

Cain: I’ve got a feeling there’s going to be some events that children shouldn’t be listening to.

Arthur: You keep calling me a child, but I am no longer… I am not a child, Sir Cain.

Owen: I’ll let him listen. Give us a tale so terrifying it gives Artie nightmares.

Arthur: No matter how terrifying a story it is, it won’t keep me awake or give me nightmares. Because I am not a child.

Cain: It’s not a scary story. Well, it shouldn’t be…

I remembered the bit I’d read just before as getting a bit…spicy. I glanced over at the general. As if the friendly air he’d had earlier had been nothing but a lie, he was now completely filled with bloodlust.

Cain: Is… Is something wrong, sir…?

His eyes met mine and slowly, slowly his head turned to join them.

Gilles: That book is a stellar adaptation… Don’t speak of it as if it’s some vulgar, tawdry product.

Cain: Ah… Um…

Gilles: The play it is based on is an action/adventure coming-of-age story centered around the friendship of a landed noble caught up in an inheritance dispute and one of her maids. In any case.

Cain: Yes.

Gilles: The two protagonists fall in love with a traveling merchant, and both compete for his affection in further more impossible ways. You said you liked it, didn’t you?

Cain: Uh, yes.

Gilles: To be frank, I am absolutely appalled. No further conversation is required.

Cain: W–wait! My apologies. Let me be honest. I'm…

Gilles: The Sage’s wizard, Cain Knightley. And that would be another Sage’s wizard, the Northern wizard Owen. And this gentleman would be… No, enough with names.

The general had been looking at Arthur when he said that. Arthur, however, took a deep breath and said his next words very pointedly.

Arthur: Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am the prince of Central Country, Arthur Granvelle. My apologies for being misleading with my identity, General Barnett.

The general’s eyes widened at such a forthwith introduction. For the first time in this conversation, he was shocked. After carefully observing his surroundings, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

Gilles: …My sincerest apologies. I had not heard you would be visiting. Had I been aware, I would have knelt before you. To do so now would be, well, conspicuous.

Arthur: Let me apologize as well. I was distracted.

The general smiled at Arthur’s immediate apology. He leaned forward, lowering his voice.

Gilles: …Please listen without showing surprise. Important citizens of my country have of late been collapsing with sudden illness. Their health worsens very quickly, and as it stands, it is doubtful they can even make it through the night. Were it to be known that a foreign dignitary is visiting me during this plague, it would draw suspicion. Please, leave as soon as you are able.

Arthur: Western country’s dignitaries…

Gilles: I cannot speak further than this. You understand, yes?

Arthur: Yes… Thank you. However, may I ask one thing?

Gilles: You may.

Arthur: Why did you warn me?

Gilles: I’d rather not cause problems for myself by complicating things with easily-rectified matters.

The general smiled calmly. His manner was arrogant, but Arthur’s eyes were happy all the same.

Gilles: You are young, and there is still hope in your heart. Though we may live in a broken world, I keep faith that it shall one day be beautifully reborn. I would rather do you a favor of something more valuable than saying your name too loudly and bringing both of our nations trouble.

Arthur: My thanks, General Barnett.

Gilles: Please, just call me Gilles. Now, I would not say this is advice, per se… If you have no urgent plans, I would suggest staying in the City of Fortune for the moment.

Cain: Why?

Gilles: A coronation ceremony shall be held on a day very soon from now. I believe the Sage’s wizards were also given an invitation.

Those words alone told me everything I needed to know about the state of the West’s dignitaries, and which among them had fallen ill. Western Country was a monarchy, after all. It seemed we’d arrived at a very delicate time.

Gilles: Well then, I shall take my leave. May there be good company on your way home.

With a bow, the general began to walk away from us. I was after him in a flash. He was a fair sort of person. I needed to do something to get rid of the guilt of lying to him.

Cain: Hold on.

Gilles: What?

Cain: …Sorry for lying to you. Err, my sincerest apologies, I mean.

His shoulders shook with laughter. At least the look on his face meant I hadn’t insulted him.

Gilles: What a very Central thing of you to say. No, it was quite fine. Why were you trying to gain my favor?

Cain: Huh?

Gilles: You pretended to have read a book you’d never touched for the sake of my favor, to the point of troubling your comrades.

Cain: That’s, well… I really do apologize for that. I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

Gilles: It certainly seems that way. I’ve yet to meet someone from Central who enjoyed deceit. Nicholas was the same way.

My eyes widened the moment I heard Nicholas’s name.

Cain: You remember Nicholas?

Gilles: Of course I do. He was once a hero who stood as Central’s head of knights. It was quite exhausting having such a great man foisted onto me as one of my subordinates.

After that bit of complaint, the general smiled at me.

Gilles: I heard a bit of you from him. He called you the kind of genius that only comes around once every thousand years. Nicholas had been quite proud whenever your name was brought up. It was clear that he loved Central Country and Central’s knights from the bottom of his heart. What happened to him was very unfortunate.

The general put his hand on my shoulder. The sudden rush of emotion in my chest was so strong, I could feel my breathing waver. Even if he had fallen as something evil, Nicholas had once been someone I admired. Hearing words of praise for him made my chest tight. Even though I’d tried to convince myself there was no other choice, I’d always hated how things had turned out. If the reason that the gallant knight I admired had become a villain was because I’d cornered him, then didn’t that make me the evil one? The general shook his head, as if to reject the self-hatred I’d never voiced aloud.

Gilles: My only complaint is that you led the knights after someone like Nicholas had been driven out. You’re not the kind of person who would be here to try and gather information. The right person for the right place, after all. Though it’s true Western Country tends to discriminate towards wizards, we are still generous enough to welcome the philosopher Hart to the royal palace with open arms. Those from Central are less sociable. The generosity seen when the King of Knights Alec established that country alongside wizards is nowhere to be seen. The current system in place only shames that sincere warrior. You don’t need to look at me like that. If you’re going to turn your sword on anything, turn it on the system.

This foreign general’s words were like a guiding light that had saved me. Perhaps they were simply honeyed words to win me over. But I wanted to think they were true.

Cain: Thank you very much, sir.

Gilles: Even wicked customs can be changed that way. Should your revolution fail and you go into exile, I would gladly welcome you to our country.

Cain: I’m not planning on abandoning my country. I am a Central knight.

The general smiled warmly at me.

Gilles: I thought that’s what you’d say.

Cain: General Barnett. Did anything strange happen to Nicholas during his time in this country?

Gilles: Why do you ask?

Cain: I heard that he headed an expedition to the sunken Adams Island. He wasn’t exactly a man who was fond of the sea. But if he left anything behind that might tell me what his goal was, then…

Gilles: I see. A very Central expression of camaraderie. I’m fond of Central’s knights because you’re all like characters in a book. Now then, regarding Nicholas… Although he was one for etiquette, there were times when he crossed the line when it came to me. I imagine he couldn’t forgive himself for it.

Cain: I see…

Gilles: Oh, but there is one thing I recall. He once asked me if I was an avid reader. Specifically, he asked if there were any accounts handed down through Western legend of an account of a "walking Hell".

Cain: A walking Hell…?

Gilles: Yes. I’d never heard of something like it. What about in Central?

Cain: This is the first time I’m hearing of anything like it, too.

Gilles: I see. I apologize, but that’s as much as I can offer.

✦✧☾✧✦

Arthur: A walking Hell… I’ve never heard of it, either. What about you, Owen?

Owen: Who knows.

Arthur: Perhaps you keep it within that trunk of yours?

Owen: Sure. Want to take a peek, Sir Prince?

Cain: Knock it off, Owen.

Owen: Hmph. So you failed to become a villain, Sir Knight. Well, it’s just a matter of time. I’m looking forward to seeing it happen.

Cain: …tsk, he’s gone… God, he’s so…

Arthur: Owen was worried about you, Cain.

Cain: As if.

Arthur: That was why he came to me. …Am I wrong?

Cain: You’re wrong. Maybe he’s not as awful as I thought, but… He’s still awful. Don’t let him fool you.

Arthur: You think so…?

Cain: …A walking Hell… Sigh… All that work, and that’s the only clue we got.

Arthur: We did get to meet with the Western general, thanks to your infiltration. Thank you, Cain.

Cain: Arthur… No, I should be the one thanking you.

3 - The Child Beloved by the Sun and Moon

Liliana: …

Old man: …Please… Please, I beg you… I haven't breathed a word about you to anyone… I promise you…!

Liliana: When has a child of man ever fulfilled their promises?

Old man: Eek…! Someone…! Help me! Please…!

Liliana: Cease this fruitless resistance. Do you really think you can escape me? I gave you happiness, did I not?

Old man: Ahh… My body… I'm wasting away…like I'm dying… …ahh…my arms are turning into branches…

Liliana: You have fulfilled your role. Now, sleep peacefully.

Old man: ……

Liliana: …Haah… That went well. I'm so sorry, Albert. But I'd rather not meet with him while looking like an old man.

✦✧☾✧✦

Chloe: …Zara… She's a witch who was raised in secrecy, like I was…?

Kelvin: …Your family hid you, too?

Chloe: Yeah… Since if they knew I was a wizard, all of our relatives would hate us…

Kelvin: Hmph. Then let them hate you. People who hate things they don't understand are all boring people, anyways. Besides, they don't hate wizards. They just mistrust them.

Chloe: Mistrust…?

Kelvin: That's right. They suspect us when things go missing, or if something breaks. Or when something bad happens to someone who's usually lucky. They think to themselves, "Couldn't this be because of the strange powers those wizards have?" It's hard to trust something they can't see for themselves, after all. Mistrusting things they can't see is pretty easy for them. They do it with kindness and friendship and things done in good will, too.

Chloe: …But… Rustica trusted me. Ages ago while I was still doing sewing for my parents' shop, I came up with this embroidery concept. Like, if I did this and this and put it all together, how'd that look? And just like I thought, it turned out absolutely beautifully.

Kelvin: Amazing! You've got a real knack for that kind of thing, don't you?

Chloe: Ehehe! Thanks… You're a kind person too, Kelvin. …But my sisters thought there was no way I could've come up with it on my own. They thought I'd seen someone else's embroidery work and copied it.

Kelvin: That's horrible. How could they?!

Chloe: Well, I was used to it… But Rustica trusted me. He said, "That's amazing, Chloe." I couldn't prove I came up with it on my own, but he didn't doubt me in the first place. It was the very first time I looked at my own embroidery and thought, "He's right. It is amazing." I was so happy and proud of myself. All because Rustica trusted me…

Kelvin: That's who Lord Rustica is, after all. He doesn't mistrust anything. He thinks this world only consists of love and peace. That's because Lord Rustica has only ever known kind and happy things in his life.

Chloe: …I don't think it's possible to have only known happiness, but… I still think I get what you're saying… Rustica never has a bad thing to say about anything. He's very good at finding a silver lining in everything. Even if people trick him or treat him badly, he never says anything about it. I always thought it was weird, honestly. I wondered how he could be like that. But… Is it really possible to live while only knowing kind and happy things…?

Kelvin: He did it. It was possible for that family back then.

Chloe: That family back then, huh…

Kelvin: For the Ferch family that lived in the City of Fortune's Sapphire Palace. Rustica was born to the Ferch family at the height of their prosperity.

Chloe: The Ferch family?

Kelvin: They were Western Country's most dazzling and prosperous aristocrats. They had even more power, politically speaking, than the Western royal family did, and nobles and merchants from around the entire continent did business with them. They amassed wealth from around the world, built the Sapphire Palace, and hosted dinner parties every night. Western Country's important talks about things like war, taxes, and politics weren't discussed at the royal palace, but at Sapphire Palace.

Chloe: So, like, they were more important than the king?

Kelvin: Their power grew from their successful business ventures. Especially with their investments in transcontinental transport. The ones who originally planned, implemented, and maintained the road that runs from Western Country, through Central, all the way to Eastern Country were the Ferches.

Chloe: That's amazing!

Kelvin: People even whispered that the Ferches' divine protection would keep them safe from anything dangerous that came down from the North. The Ferches were beloved by the royal family, the commoners, the nobility, even scholars and artists alike. And that was why when a wizard was born to them, he received nothing but blessings.

Chloe: And that was Rustica…?

Kelvin: Yes. I still remember what the people in the City of Fortune called the baby born in the Sapphire Palace. The child beloved by the sun and moon.

Chloe: (…Ahh, it's unbelievable…) (Rustica and I are as different as night and day…)

Kelvin: Until I met Lord Rustica in person, this was what I thought about the heir to the Sapphire Palace: What do they mean, beloved by the sun and moon? He's just some spoiled brat who got raised up to be selfish and covetous and never had anyone say no to him. And then I actually met him, and Lord Rustica couldn't have been more different than that. He was kind, sincere, humble… He was so generous I actually got worried for him.

Chloe: …I understand… That's the same Rustica that I know…

Kelvin: Haha… It's been so long since I saw him, and he hasn't changed a bit. …His eyes are still so clear… I can't even count how many times I felt ashamed of myself in front of those eyes. I was irritable, skeptical, stingy, pessimistic…

Chloe: Kelvin…

Kelvin: …I wanted to become a musician. But I was scared of putting on a poor performance and getting laughed at… Every time I found a musician to try to apprentice with, they'd cruelly mock me. They really were the worst. Even though I really just wanted to listen to music up close and touch an instrument for myself. I encountered Lord Rustica for the first time while I was traveling, as he was playing a flute, and I laughed at him. What's up with this?! What a weird-sounding song! What a bizarre melody! But he just smiled at me and said, "That's not true. It's a lovely song. Why don't you try to play this flute, too?" And for some reason, when he said that to me… For the first time in my life, I said that I did, I did want to try playing the flute. And I meant it completely. I have loved Lord Rustica ever since.

Chloe: …

Kelvin: And Lord Rustica loved me, too. It was as natural as the fact that candy made from sugar is sweet that people loved him, but he loved them in return so easily. He had an unshakeable faith in himself, but he never strayed from his kind, considerate nature. He freely gave his possessions, his time, and his love to anyone who wanted them.

Chloe: (…That's true for me, too… I'm just one of the people he gave those things to…) (Rustica is a very, very special person to me, but…) (To Rustica, am I…?)

Kelvin: Hey, are you okay?

Chloe: Ah…

Kelvin: You're looking kind of pale. Maybe it's just because of the moonlight, but…

Chloe: I'm fine… Ah… Wait, I need to go find Rustica! He was with me until just a little bit ago.

Kelvin: I know. I could feel his presence… Where is he now?

Chloe: W-well… A wizard I've never seen before suddenly showed up and then vanished with him.

Kelvin: Huh?! Did Zara take him?! Even though she hasn't so much as laid a hand on him before now…

Chloe: Why did Zara turn Rustica's bride into a songbird? If Rustica went through something terrible because of that witch, then… If I were to defeat her, the witch controlling Western Country, would that make Rustica happy…?

Kelvin: Lord Rustica would… I don't think he would be happy with that, no matter who it was.

Chloe: …

Kelvin: You'd just make him sad. So he has no choice but to forget things like that.

✦✧☾✧✦

Rustica: …

I was in a room that smelled absolutely lovely. It was a fine perfume, the sweet, refreshing scent of flowers blended with burnt sugar. I felt oddly nostalgic being wrapped up in that aroma. It was a sweet and gentle atmosphere, one of sadness tinged with joy. The windows of this room were also lovely. Through them I saw a magnificently built palace, backed by the pre-dawn sky. I felt a bit sleepy, so I thought I'd lie down for a bit. I undressed, leaving my clothes scattered untidily over the floor, and suppressed a yawn. And then I thought to myself, something seems off. If someone saw my clothes on the floor like this, I knew what they'd say.

???: You can't do that, Rustica. They'll get all wrinkled like that.

Rustica: Oh, my apologies.

I apologized to that someone and folded my clothes. I couldn't quite place what that someone's name was. I found a brush, and brushed out my hair. I heard the voice of someone who had talked to me while brushing my hair, from sometime before now. It smelled the same now as it did then. Sweet, refreshing flowers and candy. Flowers dancing gently in the breeze. Small, purple flowers. Gemstones glittering brightly. A delicate porcelain cup…

???: Rustica. My angel. Everyone fortunate enough to meet you is blessed. Your eyes are pure and innocent. Your heart is serene and unselfish. You understand the underpinnings of this world. It is possible that in the future, you may hear thoughtlessly said words, words not worth hearing. But please, you mustn't criticize the people who say them. There is no reason for you to take offense to them. Those who are so poor of heart are those pitiful, those not blessed with good fortune. Those who are well-loved, however, are earnest and virtuous. You must extend your hand to them without hate, without hostility. Kindness and compassion are paramount. As those of high status, we have a responsibility to learn proper ethics. My sweet Rustica. Please extend your love to everyone you can. This way, everyone will be happy.

The sky began to brighten. A veil of navy and violet fluttered at the hem of the night sky's dark dress. Birds began to sing their lovely morning songs. My eyes were on the verge of falling shut. I laid down on the bed. I laid down on the bed, and I was happy. Being able to sleep for as long as I like made me feel free and peaceful. Liberated. I began to hum a song, and fell asleep to that same song of my own making.

✦✧☾✧✦

Aria Mastandrea was the princess of Western Country as well as my fiancee. I have loved her since the day we first met. She was like a little sister. We were often told we suited one another. We were very happy together. Aria loved the sound of my harpsichord, and I loved the stories Aria would tell. Aria spoke to me often about the things that she loved. Brightly colored pastries, wax seals, bluebirds that pecked at flower petals, buttons with gold around the edges, the royal palace's gardens. His Majesty the King, her Majesty the Queen, me. Her favorite chamberlain, Francesca. The lizards that would appear by her window on rainy days. However, she was lying to me. I knew Aria loved more things than that. I saw her once, as I was walking through the palace garden, contemplating something very deeply. I saw tears in the corners of her eyes as she stared at the garden around her, her gaze very earnest. As if she were committing a sin.

Rustica: Why are you crying?

And Aria replied, She was afraid. She had never disobeyed her parents before. But she was disobeying them for the very first time, right now. Please, she pleaded, take the secret I'm about to tell you seriously. Being told something like that made me quite nervous. For I had never had a "secret" before. Under the boughs of a tree, with no one else around, Aria told me something in little more than a whisper. She had an elder twin sister. Her name was Zara. But twins in the royal family were considered unlucky. And because of that, the twin who was born a witch was forced to live in secrecy. She lived in a tower on the palace grounds. Once, she had asked to look out from the top of that same tower.

Rustica: I remember that. You said you wanted to look at the birds perched by its window. But there were no birds to be seen.

Please forgive me, she said. I lied to you. I wanted to show my beloved elder sister the man who would become my husband.

Rustica: I see, so that's what it was. Your sister lives in that tower…

I have a request, Lord Rustica, she said. I'll never ask you for anything more in my life, so please. Please take a walk through the gardens with Zara, dressed in my clothes, as though she were me. If you can, please take her outside the palace walls. Zara has never been past them before.

Rustica: In other words… I should take your elder sister on an outing somewhere? I would be happy to.

✦✧☾✧✦

Liliana: …

Rustica: …

Liliana: …He's asleep…

Rustica: …mm…

Liliana: …

Rustica: …I don't want to get up yet… Chloe…

Liliana: …

✦✧☾✧✦

Chloe: …So Rustica's just going to keep forgetting things forever? One day he'll forget me, and the Sage, and everyone else…

Kelvin: That's right. Like how he's forgotten who I am.

Chloe: Isn't… Isn't there anything I can do?

Kelvin: Can you really say something about it? To Lord Rustica? Can you tell him that the bride he's looking for is already dead? That he's the one who killed her?

Chloe: …uu… I don't want to…

Kelvin: Exactly. Because if you tell him that, the current Lord Rustica will disappear. The happy nobleman, the child beloved by the sun and moon, will vanish. I never want to see Lord Rustica suffering like that again, wailing like he was no more than an animal…

Chloe: …

Kelvin: …I need to go. You never know when or where the witch is listening. I'll be avoiding this place for the time being. You should do the same.

Chloe: Wait, Kelvin…!

Kelvin: Take care of Lord Rustica.

Chloe: Ah… …He disappeared… …If I tell him the truth, the current Rustica will disappear… …Then… Who is the real Rustica…? Will he really be happy continuing to search for a bride that no longer exists…? But…I don't want Rustica to remember…something so horrible… … I need to find Rustica… …This isn't the time to be moping. First off, I need to find Rustica… …I need to help Rustica. I at least owe him that much! …Oh, I should tell Master Sage! They said they were going to Cortes Palace, and then heading to the royal palace… If the witch is at the Western royal palace, then that's the first place I should look for Rustica. I need to hurry…!

4 - Dawn is Coming

Shino: This is…

Bradley: …

The spirits definitely felt like Western ones. I didn't feel any hostile intentions from the bone monsters surrounding us. Figaro was still actively wary of the guy with Murr's face. Mithra seemed unhappy with traveling through a door in space that someone else had made. Nero was out like a light again. I didn't know if his condition was stable or not. I wanted to get him properly treated as soon as I possibly could. And Shino was on edge, supporting Heathcliff on his shoulder and fidgeting like he couldn't decide if he wanted to stick close to Nero or to the curseworker. He had the most repressed bloodlust out of all of us right now, even counting the bone freaks.

Bradley: Stand down, Eastern tiny, Mithra.

Mithra glanced over to me, moving only his eyes.

Bradley: Don't make 'em underestimate us.

That was all I needed to say. Mithra focused his attention on what was in front of him, which was impressive, given his short attention span. The guy with Murr's face smiled.

Murr: Welcome. Please, use this manor as you will. I'll arrange for medical supplies to be brought to you shortly. You have many injured, after all.

Shino: You think you get to say that…?! All of their injuries are because of those damn things standing next to you!

Heathcliff: Shino…!

Shino's eyes were blazing with fury for the things that had put his comrades into this state. I could still feel traces of the curseworker's protection magic on him, and he had the guts to try and fight his way out of this. His courage was downright admirable.

Figaro: Get them to me immediately. As well as several people familiar with medical training.

Figaro's voice was calm, but it was steeped in a very obvious, very deadly anger.

Murr: But of course. I'd love to help you myself, but tragically, there is somewhere else I need to be.

Figaro: And where would that be?

Murr: I need to greet the Master Sage.

Figaro frowned, and I wasn't feeling any more happy about that than he was. I didn't want this Murr getting anywhere close to the Sage.

Bradley: (Should I get Mithra to go with him? But if I do that, then we won't have enough people here.) Bradley: (I'm pretty sure this is one of those actualized shards of Murr's soul I've heard about. And the shard was probably attached to that cat of his somewhere.) (Should I shoot it? If I do, how would the bone freaks react?)

While thoughts like that were chasing themselves in a circle in my head, Figaro handed the unconscious Faust off to Lennox.

Figaro: Sorry. I know you're hurt, too.

Lennox: No, it's fine…

But in the next moment, Figaro's magic focus, his orb, appeared at his hand.

Bradley: (This guy's got a short fuse too, huh.)

I was sick of him doing things that reminded me of how the twins wanted to run things. Even if they act like they're sensible, they jump the gun way too damn fast. I held Nero tighter in my arms, and my next words were very pointed.

Bradley: Yo, Southern doctor. You've got wounded to be lookin' after. If anyone's gonna be doin' anything right now, it's gonna be me.

Mithra: I'm going to be the one to take them down. All of them.

But Murr wasn't intimidated.

Murr: Did you enjoy it that much?

Figaro: Then hurry it up. I want to get to treating my patients. I'd rather not get attacked while I'm busy tending to them, so finish things up before that happens.

Murr: If we were planning on attacking you, we wouldn't have brought you here.

Bradley: What do you want with the Sage?

Murr: I intend on collecting all of the Sage's wizards here. Ah, of course. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone about this in the middle of the night. Is that why you're suspicious of me? Things that could happen innocently during the daytime can become perilous in the dead of night. This, too, is a captivating aspect of…

Mithra: <Arthim>

Blue flames raged out of Mithra's crystal skull alongside a furious blizzard, and the shape of Murr in front of us was annihilated. Me and Figaro were both left completely speechless. The cat that had been at Murr's feet leapt away, escaping as far from us as it could. And then, above the now distant cat, Murr once again flickered into view.

Murr: Goodness. Northern wizards have such short tempers. Hey, hey. Can you get close to those people over there again for me? Don't be scared. Please, I'm begging you…

Mithra ignored Murr distantly grumbling to himself and turned to face me.

Mithra: I'm going to go get the Sage.

Bradley: Sure, good plan. You know where they are?

Mithra: If I feel for their presence, yes. Well, I'll be going now. I have a feeling they're here in Western Country.

Having said that, Mithra glanced down at Nero, who was still securely in my arms. I was instantly wary of him. It was more instinct than anything.

Mithra: Is that person dead?

I didn't know what exactly he meant by that, but it still put me on edge. He better not tell me to give him Nero's stone.

Bradley: He ain't dead. He's too stubborn for that.

Mithra: Is that right? Thank goodness. Shino asked me to save him.

There was no possible way I really just heard him say something so…human. The concept alone was completely alien to Mithra of the North--he wouldn't even consider it. Mithra was still staring at Nero, and there was even a smile on his face.

Mithra: Anyway, I'm leaving now.

Bradley: Yeah, thanks.

Mithra: <Arthim>

Mithra was gone, leaving behind only the night breeze. I raised my head, and my eyes met Figaro's. He was as shocked as I was by how Mithra was acting. We both looked away without saying anything.

Figaro: Let's hurry. This way, Leno. Heathcliff, can you walk?

Heathcliff: …ah, I'll be fine.

Shino: You can lean on me. How's Faust?

Lennox: His breathing is shallow. We need to get him laying down as soon as we can.

Shino: Bradley!

Bradley: I'm coming! Nero's still doin' fine.

The jet-black night sky was starting to turn blue around the edges. Dawn was coming. The time Oz's magic would return. Even if the bone freaks attacked us after the Sage and the lil' ones joined us here, everything would be fine. I noticed myself feelin' relieved about that and felt a sudden sense of dread. There's no goddamn way I was feelin' relieved about Oz's continued existence. Maybe I was dreamin' or something. I needed to walk around or somethin' to make sure I was actually awake. The amount of people that could actually be saved was limited. I needed to prioritize and cut the rest off. I glared at the air in front of me, and started walking.

✦✧☾✧✦

Rutile: It's almost dawn…

Oz: So it is…

Rutile: Mitile and Riquet are both asleep. I'm sure they must've worn themselves out.

Oz: … Why…

Rutile: Hm?

Oz: Why would one give birth?

Rutile: … I…haven't given birth…

Oz: Yes… Of course not.

Rutile: Ahaha… Are you talking about my mother?

Oz: Correct.

Rutile: Do I really resemble her that much? Although I've been hearing that ever since I was Mitile's age.

Oz: You do not. However, there are traces of her in your countenance. The two of you can be…difficult to distinguish.

Rutile: That's an interesting way of putting it. …Were you close with her? My mother?

Oz: No… I had no particular interest in her.

Rutile: …

Oz: Given we have the opportunity, there is something I'd like to discuss with you.

Rutile: What is it?

Oz: … Is there anything… You would not want children to know of…

Rutile: Is there perhaps something you don't want to tell Lord Arthur about, Lord Oz?

Oz: …

Rutile: Ah… Sorry. That was just what came to mind.

Oz: … We should have talked more.

Rutile: You mean with my mother?

Oz: Yes. She talked often.

Rutile: Ahaha. I know all about that.

Oz: …Every time someone used their words with me, part of their heart entered mine. I disliked that.

Rutile: …

Oz: And yet, as I think of her now, I believe that perhaps I should have listened to what she said more attentively.

Rutile: …Why did you dislike it?

Oz: …Yes, why did I… Because I could not understand them. Even if I attempted to, I could not. Consequently, I did not wish to hear the words of others. I do not understand myself, either. And so… I have no words with which to describe myself. Putting myself into words would be inherently inaccurate. That things would always be conveyed inaccurately…left me weary.

Rutile: …

Oz: …Why are you crying?

Rutile: …I'm sorry… It's just, I think that…I must be the same way…

Oz: You talk frequently, however.

Rutile: Ahaha… But…I really do think I'm the same as you. I want to properly listen to people, I want to properly speak to them… But I can't understand what they're trying to say, and so I can't properly convey what I want to, either… …And so I hurt them and get hurt in return…even though I want to be kind to them…

Oz: I see… If it is difficult for someone as kindhearted as you, then I am sure it must be a trial all must face. Though she had a wild temperament, you are kind.

Rutile: You're a kind person too, Lord Oz…

Oz: …That is incorrect.

Rutile: You did great at talking with me, too. I understood what you wanted to tell me. I want to think that I understand…

Oz: …This is something Riquet has said to me. "I feel the same way."

Rutile: Huh…?

Oz: …The sky grows bright.

Rutile: Does this count as dawn?

Oz: Not just yet.

Rutile: Maybe you'll be able to do it if you try. Could I ask you to do that?

Oz: I shall.

Rutile: Then please sit down right here. That way if you fall asleep and fall over, you won't hit your head.

Oz: Here?

Rutile: Yes! Well then, take it away!

Oz: … <Vox…> Snz…

Rutile: Ah!! It really was a bit too early…!

5 - I Don't Want to Lose Anyone

I was flying through the night sky with Shylock, Murr, Gregory, and a piece of Murr's soul. Although we did return to Cortes Palace, none of us could relax, so we departed again after leaving a message for Chloe and Rustica. I was traveling with Western wizards, but no one said a thing. Having been overtaken by my exhaustion from everything that had happened that day, I was nodding off on the back of Shylock's broom.

Murr: You're falling, dear Sage.

Akira: ……ah!

I startled Shylock, and he turned to face me. He narrowed his eyes a bit and smiled.

Shylock: My apologies for not realizing. I suppose a trip like this is a bit taxing for a regular person such as yourself, Master Sage. I can use my magic to ensure you don't fall, but if you'd prefer, shall we find somewhere to rest?

Akira: I'm fine. But, um, just in case, if you could make sure I don't fall…

Mithra: <Arthim>

Just then, I heard a familiar voice. A door suddenly opened in the night sky, and then, there was Mithra.

Akira: Mithra.

Mithra was as relaxed as always, but when he saw Saku-chan, his face twisted into one of blatant distaste.

Mithra: That thing's still clinging onto you.

Saku-chan didn't mind, though. It was just nudging my shoulder with its nose. Mithra came closer to me and shook his hand a little, like he was trying to get something off of it. Gregory took to the air.

Mithra: There's more of you than I was expecting.

Gregory: Wah, watch out--!

Mithra: And I believe this is the one I missed my chance to kill earlier.

Murr: By any chance, are you referring to me?

Shylock: Murr was almost killed?

Murr: Ooh, by who? By Mithra? By Oz? Or by you, Shylock?

Akira: H-hold on, Mithra. Don't throw them off.

I held Gregory and the shard of Murr protectively in my arms, and then asked Mithra a question.

Akira: Do you mean that you tried to kill a shard of Murr's soul? Where did you meet him?

Mithra: A shard of his soul? Oh, now that you mention it, I do think I heard something about that before. No wonder something seemed off. He was on top of a cat.

Akira: A cat?

Murr: Sounds fuuuun! I want to ride on a cat, too!

Murr: I'm glad to hear that shards other than myself are enjoying their lives as well.

Shylock: You killed a shard of Murr? Did the Murr you killed return to the shard? Or did it destroy it permanently?

Murr: Ooh, what an eager student you are, Shylock!

Murr: Are you planning on composing a thesis on the subject?

Shylock: Be quiet, Murr. Mithra, what happened to that Murr?

Mithra: He was riding on top of a cat. He said he was going to go greet the Sage, so I came here to get you instead.

Mithra was frowning. It seemed like something unpleasant had happened to him.

Akira: Why were you and a shard of Murr fighting?

Mithra: He set bone doll monsters on us. Faust and Nero almost died, and Heathcliff and Lennox got done in, too.

Akira: Huh…?!

My mind went completely blank. My heart started pounding in my chest, and my vision started fading around the edges.

Akira: Wh…why…

Mithra: Like I said, we were attacked by doll-like, bone monster-like things. I won, of course.

And now Faust and Nero were almost dead, and Heath and Leno were badly hurt… Their smiles popped into my head. The idea of losing those smiles scared me so bad I wanted to scream. We'd encountered all sorts of dangerous situations before. I always knew that them losing their lives was a real possibility, and yet I just sent them out with little more than a "Take care." Not a single time had I ever been prepared to face the prospect of them actually dying.

Akira: (What do I do, what do I do, what do I do…)

I was so scared and confused I could hardly breathe. Without even thinking about it, I grabbed onto Mithra's arm.

Akira: Did…did you save them?

Mithra: Probably. Figaro is with them.

Akira: …Haahh…

My sigh of relief came from the very bottom of my heart. And yet at the same time as that relief, I felt my stomach twist itself into a knot and my fingers start to tremble. I was told they were almost dead, and then only seconds later, I was told they were going to be okay. But it had felt like an eternity. There were tears in my eyes, ready to fall.

Akira: …sniff, thank goodness… Can I see them? Can you take me to them?

Mithra: Of course I can.

Mithra was looking straight at me.

Shylock: Master Sage…

Shylock tugged me closer to him. The moment I relaxed, I'd started to slip. From within my arms, the shard of Murr started to speak.

Murr: The probability that these "bone doll monsters" are artificial wizards is very high.

Shylock: Artificial wizards? Are you saying you made a wizard? How could you create something like that all over again…

Murr: I didn't make them. But the plans for them were in my laboratory. It seems someone found them and perfected the concept.

Mithra: <Arthim>

Mithra opened another door in the sky. Gregory whispered to me, worried about how pale and shaken I must've looked.

Gregory: Are you okay?

Akira: Yes…

Though he was in the shape of a bird and all he had for a face were his beak and his round eyes, I still felt like he'd smiled gently at me.

Gregory: You're a very kind person. The Sage's wizards must be happy to know how much you care about them.

But of course I did. If even a single one of them were missing, I wouldn't be here right now. I was able to live in this world only because each and every one of them had helped me. I didn't want to lose any of them.

✦✧☾✧✦

Mithra: <Arthim>

Mithra took us to a room I'd never seen before.

Figaro: Master Sage.

Akira: Figaro…

I wanted to say something to him, but the sight of his fingertips stopped me. They were stained crimson. I looked down and saw Faust laying on a bed, covered in wounds.

Akira: …!

I had to put a hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming, and that startled Gregory, who took to the air. Seeing what looked like a bird, Figaro drew the bedsheets over Faust's body.

Figaro: What a pretty bird. Or, a person? Sorry, but I'm in the middle of treating patients right now, so you'll need to wait outside.

Akira: S-sorry. Figaro, Faust is going to be okay, isn't he?

Figaro's eyes met mine and he nodded, his smile a reliable one.

Figaro: Of course he is. He's got Dr. Figaro by his side, after all.

Akira: Thank goodness… Thank you so much!

There was a gentle kindness in Figaro's hazel eyes. And maybe it was just my imagination, but he seemed happy, too.

Figaro: Yep. Just leave everything to me.

Akira: What about Nero? Is Nero okay, too?

Figaro: As long as he rests. If he strains himself, he'll lose his life. He's through the room on the other side of the hall.

Akira: Thank you! I'm going to go check on him.

Figaro: Ah, don't walk around on your own. Shylock, could you go with the Sage?

Shylock: Of course. Does that mean this place isn't safe? Or, unsafe enough that we can't let the Sage be on their own.

Figaro: That's right. I'll explain what's up later. Mithra, I need you to fetch Rutile next.

Mithra: Excuse me?

Figaro: We don't have enough hands here, and I want to check up on Nero and Heath, too. He should be somewhere here in Western Country.

Mithra: I refuse.

Figaro: Why?

Mithra didn't respond. I looked up at him, and he was almost pouting.

Akira: …Did you two have a fight?

Mithra: He's a pigheaded jerk.

Figaro: Come on, Mithra. I need you to hurry. And while you're at it, can you track down Oz, too?

Mithra: Absolutely not.

A voice called out from my breast pocket.

Murr: I shall assist you.

I blinked, and my pocket Murr was full size again. When Mithra and Figaro saw him, their faces turned grim. Murr's bright eyes narrowed to slits as he smiled at them.

Murr: I am still a doctor of medicine, you know.

The shard of Murr reached his fingers towards Shylock's hair and stole Shylock's hair tie, just like that. Shylock frowned at him, looking annoyed. As Murr tied his hair back with his purloined hair tie, he addressed me.

Murr: Shall we go, Master Sage?

I pressed my hand against the shard of purple sapphire in my pocket and nodded. Just before we stepped out, I looked up at Mithra.

Akira: Are you sure you won't help us with Rutile? Mithra…

Mithra: …

Mithra was still pouting, his lips curved down in dissatisfaction. He sighed, but he was being reluctant about it.

Mithra: Just this once.

Akira: I'm sorry for the trouble. But thank you.

Mithra: <Arthim>

Mithra disappeared into a door through space. Shylock stepped toward me and put a hand on my back. The nimble, catlike Murr was about to follow us so he didn't get left behind, but Figaro called out to him.

Figaro: Murr, hold on.

Murr: What, what?

Murr: What is it?

Figaro: Err… That's rather troublesome, isn't it. Could the one that's Shylock's dear pet stay and help me? You are a doctor, aren't you?

Murr: I mighta forgotten how to be?

Figaro: I'll tell you what you need to do. Ahh, just when I was getting a feeling of deja vu, instead it turned into Dr. Figaro's Classroom…

Figaro grumbled to himself, looking bitter. It seemed like it had been a long time since he'd taught healing magic, down in the South.

Lennox: Excuse me. --Master Sage.

Just before we could step out the door, Lennox stepped in before us. His clothes, too, were stained with blood. He noticed me before I could figure out what to say and smiled at me.

Lennox: Don't worry, they're just scratches. Please look in on Nero and Heathcliff. What kind of bird is this…? I don't think you should bring the bird with you.

Gregory: Yes, that's true. Master Sage, I shall leave your side for the time being.

Lennox's eyes widened when he heard Gregory speak. Figaro smiled bitterly, even as his hands moved swifly and skillfully.

Figaro: You should at least be able to identify the presence of a person turned into a bird. Faust is going to scold you.

Lennox: That's true.

Their quiet words sounded like prayers. Both of them were waiting for the moment when those prayers would be answered and Faust opened his eyes again. They had faith that moment would come.

✦✧☾✧✦

I went to the room Nero was supposed to be in with Shylock. Shino was already there. The moment he saw the shard of Murr, his expression changed. His scythe appeared in his hand and flashed across the narrow room. Murr only got a second to dodge. If he'd been even a moment too slow, his head would've separated from his body.

Murr: It seems I've earned quite a bit of resentment.

Shylock: As you always do. Shino, this shard of Murr is one we found in the Royal Botanical Gardens. This shard is different from the one that attacked you Eastern wizards.

Shino: …

Shino eyed us warily, trying to confirm what Shylock had said. It was very easy to tell from the sharpness of his gaze and his lack of composure that something terrible had happened. Shino was a proud wizard and a stranger to cowardice. Any other time, I would've seen a grin on his lips as he boasted about what he'd done. Instead, his whole body was tense. Something had happened that needed him to be that on edge, ready for anything. He let out the breath he'd been holding, and his scythe disappeared.

Shino: Sorry. Sage, come sit with Nero.

Nero was tucked into a bed, his eyes closed. I watched Nero's face quietly, but Shino muttered something.

Shino: Figaro said Nero's wounds were the worst out of everyone's. We were only saved because he took the first hit and told us what to watch out for.

Shino was staring straight into my eyes.

Shino: Be sure you praise him a lot when he wakes up.

Akira: I will… Shino, did you not get hurt at all? Even though I sent you somewhere so dangerous…

I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. Right as I was about to say that, I remembered what Bradley said to me. I couldn't look apologetic if I was going to give them orders. I needed to be proud of them for what they've done. Be proud of him… What should I say to tell him I'm proud of him? As I thought that, I looked at Shino, at his expression that he was trying so, so hard to keep even. And then I realized something. Faust and Nero had both been badly wounded, and Heathcliff had gotten hurt, too. Right now, Shino was struggling helplessly with something worse than I could ever imagine. When he'd swung his scythe at us just moments ago, he'd been trying to protect his comrades, all on his lonesome.

Akira: Shino… Thank you. Because of you, Faust, Nero, and Heath all came home in one piece. The fact that I can come see them all is all because you were willing to put your life on the line for them. I'm glad you were there for them, Shino. …I'm so, so glad…

Shino's red eyes looked up at me, startled. His gaze trembled, the rippling of the ocean at sunset captured in his eyes. It was the expression of someone very close to tears, even as he smiled at me. But he was so proud and fearless, he wouldn't admit that.

Shino: Yeah, well.

My eyes started getting hot, so I averted my gaze. Instead, I looked down at Nero, still sleeping. I couldn't say I liked seeing his sleeping face like this, though. His skin was so pale it was hard to believe he still had blood pumping through his veins. It hurt to look at him.

Akira: You, too… Thank you, Nero.

My voice was trembling. Shylock gently put a hand on my shoulder. His eyes were closed, and he murmured into my ear.

Shylock: Are you alright, Master Sage?

Akira: Yes… Shylock, Murr. Can I can leave Nero to the two of you? I want to see Heathcliff. Shino, is it okay if I do that right now?

Shino: I'll take you there. Shylock, take care of Nero.

Shylock: Of course. Shino, please stay at the Sage's side. If anything should happen…

Shino: I know. Don't worry. Bradley's here, too.

Akira: He is?

Shino: He was here until just a second ago. After we swapped off, he vanished. So he could keep watch from far away, he said.

Akira: From far away…

Shino: He'll be acting as sniper if anything happens. You should be glad a bullet didn't pass through your skull.

The shard of Murr simply shrugged his shoulders. I looked outside through the room's window. I could feel someone out there, watching over us, protecting us. Even if we were far apart, he would protect me. And he was still much closer than any god was.

Next Chapter

[barbwritesstuff]

anon asking about achievements again: the achievements menu does show up! turns out i just haven't seen any pop up while playing the game because i've not unlocked them yet 😓 sorry, i didnt mean to alarm you

All good, anon.

I think I'm going to go back and add a bunch more in once Chapter 4 is finished.

But, actually, this reminds me.

In Blood Moon, the achievements were all hidden. So, you had to find them to know what they were. I think some people disliked this based on the feedback I got, and so, in Thicker Than, I have opted for unhidden achievements. Currently, you can clink on the menu and see all the possible achievements.

I haven't been putting achievements on spoilery moments, and even if I had, you'd have to scroll through the achievements to find hints at those spoilers, so I don't think they'd ruin the game even if they were in there.

Or maybe I'd just name them something unspoilery. Eg, Ending 5.

Or maybe I will include hidden achievements alongside unhidden ones.

I don't know. And so, I want to ask...

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 1: These Devilish Intentions

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Matthew told her no one would ever want her after what he did to her. He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Word Count: 4,621

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut and references to past sexual assault. Also Tommy being the biggest softy when it comes to his girl.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 8: Dancing with the Devil

“Ha! I win!” she set her cards down on the table, leaning back smugly. Tommy snorted, the amusement for once unhidden in his eyes as he scooped up her cards and dealt another hand.

The celebrations at the Garrison were in full swing, laughter and the clinking of glasses thundering throughout the pub. Even Polly seemed to be enjoying herself, her serious features relaxed into a laugh as she listened to John ramble drunkenly. At one point, Arthur leapt up onto the bar, glass of whiskey sloshing. 

“To the Red Demon!” he bellowed out, swaying so dangerously on his feet Lucy was worried he would fall off the bar. Around him, the other Blinders shouted out in agreement, raising their glasses. Scrunching down into her seat, her cheeks burned at the sudden attention.

She was just beginning to grow rather tired, the noise from the party starting to get to her, when Tommy had taken her gently by the arm and shepherded her into the snug, where it was quieter and more secluded from the drunk shouting and shattering of glasses. They busied themselves playing hand after hand of cards, sipping on glasses of whiskey and talking.

A glance through the half open door greeted her with the sight of John sitting in a booth, head in his hands. Polly was rubbing at his back while he cried, clutching a photograph to his chest.

“Is John alright?”

Tommy glanced over his shoulder at his brother and sighed. “Yeah. That just happens sometimes when he’s drunk. It’ll pass. Polly’s got him.”

“What’s he crying about?”

“Martha, probably.”

“His dead wife?”

“Yeah.”

“What was she like?”

He hesitated a moment. “She was nice. A whole hell of a lot sweeter than the rest of us. She and John met while they were in school. When we were kids all he’d go on about was wanting to settle down with her. I think he was more invested in their wedding preparations than she was.”

“I suppose that’s rather sweet. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“You don’t ever want to get married?” there was no judgment in his voice, just quiet curiosity.

“Nah,” she rubbed at the back of her neck. “Don’t think that I’m cut out for it, to be honest with you. I’d rather be riding horses and getting shot at than spend the rest of my life staying at home, cleaning the house, cooking meals, taking care of children. I wouldn’t be much good at any of that stuff anyway. Too restless, I guess. Bored easily. At school I could never sit still; got my ass beat by the nuns several times for fidgeting.”

“You were engaged.”

“Not like I had much choice in the matter,” she sniffed. “You know I never once lied to either of them about how I felt about the whole thing. Never gave any indication that I was going to go through with it. I think that Matthew thought he could mold me into what he wanted me to be. He wants what he can’t have. When I rejected him, it only made him more convinced that he had to have me.”

“None of it was your fault.”

“I know that,” her scars ached, mind swimming, uncertain if she wanted to keep talking about it or not. Her eyes narrowed at the cards he had played out onto the table. “If I find out later that you’ve been letting me win I’ll be furious,” The smirk he gave her in response revealed just the beginnings of a dimple in his cheeks. Eyes falling back to her cards, she attempted to hide a yawn behind her hand.

“You tired?” 

“Yeah,” she rubbed her eyes. He examined her for a moment before setting his cards down and standing.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t want to finish the game?” even as she spoke she set her own cards down, standing to get her coat.

“Nah. It was a shitty hand anyway.”

Giggling, she pulled her hat on and followed him towards the front doors. “Won’t they notice that we’ve left?”

Tommy glanced over the gaggle of drunken men in the pub. “I’m pretty sure that they wouldn’t notice if the fucking pope walked in, love.”

The moment they stepped outside, her arms wrapped around herself, trying to shield her from the chill in the air as they began to walk. 

The card game had been a welcome distraction from the unending stress weighing on her mind since reading her father’s letters. A jitteriness had settled into her bones that had her jumping at shadows, head swiveling at the smallest of sounds. But having Tommy close helped. Nothing could truly touch her so long as he was nearby. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Tired.”

“You’ve done well,” he said after a moment. Lucy hummed. 

“I’m glad to know that my work has been of satisfaction.”  

Tommy chuckled, scratching at his nose. She could have sworn that he moved closer to her, so that their sides were almost brushing. Growing quiet, she glanced down at her feet. At her pair of shiny, lace-up oxfords. They were easily the nicest pair of shoes that she’d ever owned.

“Your brothers are going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Maybe. Arthur will be alright. John’s the one who will have to go home to four rowdy children.”

“When the hell did John find the time to have four kids anyway?” 

“Fuck if I know. But you know what it’s like. When you’re young and in love,” he wrinkled his nose. “He and Martha were terrible. We could hardly leave them alone for two seconds and they’d be fucking against the nearest horizontal surface.”

Lucy laughed quietly, shaking her head. “I guess I wouldn't know.” 

Tommy’s head snapped around to look at her incredulously. “Never?”

She shrugged, a little helplessly. Tommy seemed to be utterly stunned. 

“You’ve never fucked anyone before?”

Her cheeks burned as she blushed. “Well, there was Matthew and his friends in the alley–”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Then I guess not,” she suddenly felt very self conscious. “It was all but impossible, with my dad almost always around, looking over my shoulder…”

“You don’t have to explain.”

She shot him a grateful look. But now that the box had been opened she seemed unable to stop her thoughts from pouring out. “Even after he left for France, I swear I could always feel his presence around me. His eyes watching me for any signs of…indecency. Even miles away, the thought of his rage if he ever found out terrified me. Kept me from misbehaving too much while he was away.”

“I guess I always thought of you as a troublemaker.”

“Oh, I got into trouble,” she smirked. “Just not the kind where I wound up on my back,” she thought for a moment. “Except that time a mare I stole from a nearby stable threw me off her.”

“You stole a horse?”

“They were beating her! Not that she showed much gratitude for the rescue,” she grumbled. “I had a bruise the size of an apple on my back for two weeks,” her shoulders tensed at a clatter from a nearby alley, but a glance in that direction revealed the sound to have been caused by a simple drunk. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“You ever know what it was like to be young and in love?” there was a long silence. “Tommy?”

“Before France. Her parents didn’t like me, so we would sneak out to the canal to be together,” he coughed, looking down at his shoes. “Her name was Greta.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died. Consumption,” it was clear from his voice that he didn’t want to discuss it much further.

“I’m sorry,” there wasn’t much else she could think to say. Tommy grunted in response. Teeth pulling at her bottom lip, she weighed in her mind whether or not to continue with the topic. “What about Lizzie?”

Tommy’s brow furrowed, genuine confusion crossing his features. “What about her?”

Lucy shrugged. “Well, I didn’t know if maybe…”

“Lizzie’s just a whore, Lucy,” Tommy said simply, brow still furrowed, like the idea that the tall woman could be anything more had never even crossed his mind.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but closed it. They had reached the door to her flat. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she hesitated a moment after sliding them into the door. The cool air made her shiver. Tommy frowned, reaching out to rub his hands up and down her arms.

“You should get inside.” 

“Do you want to come up?” the question passed her lips before she had much time to think about it. He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you were tired.”

She shrugged non-committedly. Something twitched in his face, mind clearly working behind his eyes.

“If you want me to.”

Nodding, she pushed the door open and led him upstairs to her little room, shedding her hat and jacket to hang them on the hooks near the door, Tommy following her movements. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice the way that her hands trembled. He had been in her flat before; but there was something in the air between them that hadn’t been there before.

“It’s strange to think of myself as I was then. Before everything happened.”

“What do you mean?”

Shoulders shrugging, she reached out to absentmindedly straighten a painting on the wall.

“I had all these plans and ideas for what I was going to do with my life. After my dad and brothers were sent to France, I got a job as a stable girl. I was making my own money. I was beginning to consider the possibility that I could someday leave. Start to actually live my life on my own terms. There’s a part of me that wishes my father didn’t come back,” she admitted softly. “I was so hopeful…and then he came back and he pushed Matthew onto me and tore it all to pieces,” a sudden feeling of fury washed over her. Fury over the shame and fear that those two men had burdened her with. 

Tommy reached out a hand, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. His thumb traced over her bottom lip as she gazed up at him.

“The idea of living…excited me. I miss feeling like that.”

The breath that left Tommy’s lungs shuddered, eyes fixed on her lips. She swallowed hard.

“Sometimes I feel like they ruined me,” she didn’t even mean her chastity; that had never been something that she held much value for. Instead she spoke of her mind, broken and twisted, or her body, marred by scars that still ached from time to time with phantom pain.   

Tommy shook his head, the hand not caressing her face going to her waist. “That’s not true.”

“I know. Or…most of the time I do, anyway. Sometimes I still hear the things that they said to me, echoing in my head.”  

She may not be interested in the prospect of marriage, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to spend the rest of her life alone. Under her father’s roof there’d been no chance at any sort of promiscuous behavior, but she’d often dreamed of the day she would escape his influence and would finally have the chance or gorge herself on the pleasures life had to offer.

Fuck them for what they had done to her.

She wanted so badly to silence their voices. To quash the feeling, however fleeting, of disgust when she looked at her scarred body in the mirror.  

“What do they tell you?” Tommy pulled her closer to him, until their chests were brushing each other.

“They say I’m dirtied. That I’m worthless. That no one will ever want me.”

He was shaking his head, hand stroking her face. She moved a fraction closer to him, his warmth all around her, palms planted flat against his chest.

“They couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I don’t want to listen to them anymore,” foreheads brushing, he all but nuzzled against her, hand smoothing along her back. “You make me feel safe.”

“Good.” 

All she did was tilt her head ever so slightly upwards, and their lips brushed against each other. Tommy kissed her softly, the hand on her back holding her close while the one on her face fell to her waist. Lucy’s own hands fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him down more urgently to her. Practically purring at her eagerness, his head tilted to deepen their kisses. He didn’t seem to be put off by her clumsy and inexperienced movements, only cradling her closer. Hands moving from where they clutched at his shirt, she grasped the front of his suit jacket, shoving it off of his shoulders to the floor. Tommy groaned, stroking her jaw while her arms wound around his neck. Their noses bumped but that didn’t stop them, kisses still soft but growing more fevered and hungry. Her head spun as his lips moved from hers to press along her cheek and jaw, tickling over her neck, ghosting over the shell of her ear. 

“Lucy…Lucy, are you sure? I need you to tell me that you’re sure,” the sound of his baritone, so close to her ear, sent a shudder of warmth down her spine. When had he removed her waistcoat? She didn't even notice until the heat from his palms seeped through the thin material of her shirt.

“Yes,” she tangled her fingers in his hair, thighs clenching together at the growl that rumbled in his chest when her nails scratched over his scalp. “Yes, I’m sure.”

His hands slid from where they’d been resting against her ribs to her ass, lifting her up onto his hips and carrying her the short distance to the bed, laying her down slowly against the pillows. He straightened long enough to remove his waistcoat and the shirts layered beneath it. Redness flared in her cheeks as she allowed herself a moment to admire him, all strong muscle and soft, freckled skin. A tattoo encircling his left pec. She was aware that she was all but drooling, but couldn’t bring herself to care much, even as he noticed her ogling and shot her a cocky smirk. Hands reaching out to him desperately, she drew him back to her, body hovering over hers.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, kissing him again. Tommy chuckled against her lips, bed creaking as he situated himself into a more comfortable position on top of her, growling again when she dug her nails into his back. When his fingers brushed along the buttons of her shirt she stiffened, a stab of anxiety fluttering over her at the thought of someone else seeing her scars. Tommy pulled back to look at her, still close enough for his long lashes to tickle her cheeks.

“Still okay?”

Looking into his eyes helped to ground her, the light blue nearly engulfed by the darkness of his pupils. She was alright; she was safe. Tommy wouldn’t hurt her. She forced herself to swallow her fear, to ignore the beginning chant of cruel voices in her head.

“Yeah.”

The first button popped open, Tommy’s head dipping to press a kiss to the newly revealed skin as he slowly opened each button of her shirt.

“Don’t listen to them,” he murmured, lips caressing over a scar that ran from the bottom of her breast over her ribcage. “You listen to me,” another kiss was pressed to a small scar near her belly button. “You’re beautiful. I want you.”

She sat up slightly so he could push her shirt fully off her shoulders and toss it to the floor, her own fingers undoing her bra and shedding that as well. Large hands squeezing her breasts, his mouth returned to devour hers, kisses growing more and more urgent. Hips dropping into hers, he rolled them forward, bulge rubbing against her. A startled moan exploded from her lips at the movement, hands scabbling at his shoulders, hips rising in a silent plea for a repeat of the motion. Tommy seemed all too happy to oblige, humping forward against her again with a groan.

“Fuck. Okay,” he fumbled with her belt, undoing her pants as he began to kiss down her body again, breath shuddering in her lungs as his tongue swiped over one of her nipples. “Lift your hips for me, love,” he mumbled into her skin. Hips raising, she helped him to pull off and kick away her trousers and remaining undergarments, fighting the urge to hide beneath the covers at being fully exposed to him. Frowning, she pouted when he didn’t return to hovering above her, instead resituating her legs, hooking her thighs over his shoulders.

“What are you–ohhhhhh,” she let out a sound she had never heard herself make before, head falling back against the pillows while a hand clenched in Tommy’s hair. He snickered, hands stroking her thighs as he swiped his tongue over her clit again. With quick, careful movements, he began to work her over with his tongue while she moaned and tried to push him even closer. A whine left her lips when he pulled back, eyes batting up at her innocently, temptingly.

“Why’d you stop?” she slurred, the hand clenched in his hair moving to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing along his slick lips. Leaning into her touch like a cat, Tommy’s features twitched, affection clear as day on his face.

“Can I put my fingers inside of you?”

She wasn’t sure if her flushed cheeks were a result of being flustered or aroused at the question, barely managing a small nod.

“Yes.”

Head dipping back down again, Lucy sighed in ecstasy, in relief, as he pressed his lips back to her clit. One hand continued to cradle her thigh while the other slid between her legs.

“Gentle,” she gasped out, another bout of nerves hitting her, though with his mouth between her legs it was hard to pay them much mind. Nodding, he pulled back, nuzzling at a scar on her inner thigh.

“I’m going to be so gentle with you, love,” he promised. She shivered as a single thick finger sunk into her, crooking as he resumed his ministrations with his tongue. Moans continued to bubble from her throat, head tilted back as one hand grasped at Tommy’s hair, the other fisting in the sheets beneath her. Her voice only raised an octave when he added a second finger, pumping faster as he spread her open.

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,” she choked out. He just purred in answer, the vibrations doing wonderful things to her clit. Back arching, she all but wailed as she came, thighs clenching around his head as she gasped. 

Lapping at her until she was pushing his head away from overstimulation, Tommy wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, looking incredibly pleased with himself as he crawled back up her body to kiss her. She could taste the remaining tang of herself on his lips, arms looping around his shoulders. For a moment, his hands cupped her cheeks before falling down to undo his pants, kicking them off along with his undergarments.

Chancing a glance down, her eyes widened in a way she had to imagine was at least somewhat comical. Jesus fucking Christ, how the hell was that going to fit inside her?

Tommy’s thumb rubbed her cheek, quietly demanding her attention.

“Do you want to stop?”

She was shaking her head before he even got the question out, pulling him back down for another kiss. “No.”

His eyes examined hers shrewdly, nodding as he reached down to stroke himself. She squeaked when in one sudden movement he rolled them so that she was on top of him, thighs straddling his hips, both of them shuddering when his erection brushed against her entrance.

“Tommy, I don’t know what I’m doing–”

“It’s okay,” he said as he lined himself up, rising so that he could wrap an arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. “I’ll help you.”

She anchored herself on his powerful shoulders, his cock kissing her entrance but not penetrating her yet. Tommy rested his forehead against hers, arms wrapping fully around her. He kissed her nose.

“We stop whenever you want to.”

Nodding, a shuddering gasp left her lips as slowly, carefully, he began to push inside her.

He felt even bigger than he looked, stretching her so wide she thought that he might split her in two. But Tommy held her cradled tightly to him, kisses planted on her neck. She was wet enough from his previous actions that he glided into her easily. And every time he felt her starting to tense he stopped, rubbing circles into her back and nuzzling at her until she relaxed.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned once he was fully seated within her, head falling to rest on her shoulder for a moment before lifting it to check on her. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” she shook her head and he stretched up to kiss her. When she shifted her hips, ever so slightly, he growled and she giggled, earning herself a playful pinch to the hip. Arms wrapped around his neck, hands clinging to his shoulders, she gave an experimental bounce, and felt more than she heard his moan from where his face was pressed against her neck as he rewarded her with a tiny, answering thrust.

“Yeah, like that,” he breathed out, hands planting firmly on her waist to help support her as they started to move. Lucy’s brow furrowed with concentration, focusing on trying to keep her balance and the tempo of their thrusts.

“Go slow,” Tommy kissed her temple. “You’re doing good,” his breath caught a bit at the end of his sentence, as her movements began to grow more confident. The pace remained slow, but the thrusts were growing harder, more needy. Tommy lifted his head so that he could watch her face, and the look in his eyes nearly knocked her off balance. Those blue orbs were unmistakably aroused, but there was something else, a staggering softness, a near adoration, that left her stunned. She brushed away some of his dark fringe that had fallen into his eyes, his lashes fluttering at the movement, face leaning into her touch. Maybe…

Pressing her chest more fully against his, she sighed as she rubbed her hands along his torso, feeling the muscles ripple beneath her fingers. His cock twitched when she traced over that tattoo surrounding his pec, ghosting over his nipple with her thumb. A vulnerability shivered across his face as he watched her appraise him.

“Is it okay that it’s me?”

Her eyes darted back to him in shock at the sudden…unsurety in his voice, like he expected her to say no.

A ridiculous thought. She had never wanted anyone as much as she wanted him.

The need to comfort, to reassure spread over her heart, a want to soothe the eternally sad look in his eyes. Tightening her arms around him she kissed him as softly as she knew how.

“I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

His entire face softened, features relaxing, the thrusts that had ceased at his question picking back up again, hips bucking with more urgency while he cradled her face and kissed her like he was suffocating and she was air. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good, love,” he promised, moans already leaving her lips as they began to fuck in earnest, bedframe creaking. With his arms around her he helped to lift and lower her onto his cock, their skin slapping together, bodies entangling.  

“Tommy,” she gasped out. “Fuck. So big, so big,” that massive cock rubbed against a patch of nerves inside her that made her moan and babble wantonly. All it took was a few more well aimed strokes, and she was clawing at his back, all nervousness or self consciousness gone as she started riding him with abandon, his hips rolling up to meet her every thrust.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck,” Tommy’s hands were all over her, groping greedily at her breasts, palming at her back. “Can I touch your hair?”

The question took her by surprise for a moment. But of course. Of course he had noticed her aversion to having her hair tugged.

“No pulling,” she said and he nodded, hand sliding up her back and into her hair, just letting the strands pass through his fingers without yanking. Lucy sighed, head tipping backwards into his palm. He suddenly readjusted her slightly in his lap, and she wasn’t sure what exactly he did, but on the next forward snap of his hips she was howling in pleasure.

“Lucy,” the way he said her name, with such utter reverence, had a shudder going through her, his thumb rubbing at her clit.

“Please,” she didn’t even know what she was asking him for.

“I know, I know,” he began to kiss her again, greedily swallowing each of her moans. She was so close…so close…

He put a little more pressure on her clit, and she was done for, crying out his name as she clamped down hard on his cock, trembling through her orgasm. Tommy clutched her tightly to him.

“That’s my girl. That’s my girl. Come here,” he squeezed her to his chest, fucking her through it, thrusts slow and so deep she was sure she could feel him in her belly. His cock was beginning to throb so hard she would plainly feel it, pulsing with every deep plunge into her. A final, impossibly deep thrust home and he let out a massive growling moan, holding himself in place as his cock twitched and then throbbed powerfully. The sudden wave of warmth as his load pumped into her made Lucy answer with a moan of her own. Tommy’s head drooped to rest against her shoulder, body relaxing against hers as he orgasmed.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, still clinging to each other tightly while panting. Tommy stroked Lucy’s hair, nuzzling at her shoulder before finally shifting, pulling out of her and maneuvering them both so that they were laying on their sides, under the covers. She cuddled up to his chest, his skin so warm she doubted that she even really needed the blankets to keep the chill away when she was pressed up against him the way she was. Wrapping an arm around her, Tommy hugged her close, kissing her forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asked, curling around her as he got comfortable in the bed.

“Yeah,” she slipped an arm around his waist, head resting against his pecs, the smattering of hair on his chest tickling her cheek. “Thank you.”

“You really don’t have to thank me, love,” he chuckled, brushing some hair out of her face, expression unbearably soft as he looked at her.

“What?”

“I think you might be the prettiest person that I’ve ever seen.”

She let out an undignified squeak and buried her burning face into his chest. “Stop making me blush.”

He laughed, chest vibrating with the sound, hand falling from her face to join the other around her. His cheek rested against the top of her head. She squeezed the arm she had looped around him.

“I’m glad that I have you.”

Leaning his head down, he kissed her with a softness that made her want to cry, chuckling when they parted and she promptly yawned. 

“Go to sleep, love.”

“You’ll still be here?”

Pulling her even closer, he tangled her legs with his.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

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