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alessiathepirate · 10 months ago

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Sherlock (BBC)

CROWN JEWELS: Jim Moriarty x fem!reader

Summary: Be careful what you say - especially around a man like Jim Moriarty.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

I have been working on this since summer and now that it's finally done I think I'm ready to share it with you guys. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you'll enjoy reading it.

Also a silent thank you for my friend who told me to keep going even after writer's block hit me hard. <3

Warnings: swearing

•••

Jim Moriarty likes to leave a lasting impression.

That was her first thought about him ever since she first met him - ever since she first heard him talk and saw his body language. The man talks with his whole body - especially when he's in an angry or mischievious mood -, expresses himself with his arms' and shoulders' movements and with his many different gestures. The words he uses and the way he builds up sentence after sentence makes one to stop and listen. And he can make all of that look elegant and strangely enough, gentleman-like.

No matter what he does or talks about, how many times you have already met him, he's someone who you can never get fully used to and that alone always burries that lasting impression. It causes many different feelings and thoughts about the man, making the brain work and think about him and his every little gesture and word long after he's left.

But how long can that impression last?

Long enough for her to remember their first meeting weeks after it had occurred. Long enough for her to build up a whole complicated characterization and profile of him. Long enough for her to be able to quote his words exactly as he had said them.

As she sat in her own armchair in 221B Baker Street, watching the news on the telly about Jim Moriarty himself; the remains of that well known charm of his being slowly built up the memories of their first meeting.

She was in the exact same position, sitting in her own armchair - what Sherlock and John thought she finally deserved, so she won't have to sit on the chouch or on the 'chair of shame' (as she liked to call that) when they have a case to solve -; but instead of watching the telly, she was reading, falling head first into the world of the book, enjoying the peace and quiet which occurred pretty rarely in 221B. But despite the fact that she was way too interested in whatever she was reading, she still noticed the noise of a door opening downstairs, followed by the noise of someone coming up the stairs.

She looked up from the book, picking up her bookmark as she listened to the quiet tapping as someone's shoes met with the steps. She has spent enough time in 221B to be able to differ everyone's steps: Sherlock's, John's, Mrs. Hudson's, even Lestrade's and potential clients' - but these steps didn't sound like any of those.

Sherlock was always quick as he came up, too excited about the cases he had to solve and way too happy to be free from boredom. John was either slow when he came up, looking through the letters they've got or quick and angry, done with Sherlock's new case or with the certain experiments he was doing in the flat. Mrs. Hudson's were always high pitched, Lestrade's quick and heavy as he ran upstairs and the clients' were slow, reluctant and quiet.

These steps were slow, that was true, but there was something unusual about them, about the sound when they met with the wooden staircase. These were slow and quiet, but confident and elegant - these were something new and not usual and boring.

She put her book down and looked at the door what was wide open - because no matter how many times either she or John closed it, Sherlock always left it open. They gave up pretty soon, accepting the fact that their only protection against a robbery is Mrs. Hudson and the door downstairs.

The stranger was soon standing in the doorway, looking around the flat so calmly it looked like he owned the place and he most definitely didn't even think about knocking.

He didn't look like a client. He was way too calm and confident, way too elegant to be one. No, he was something new and unique, someone who you immediately notice even in a room full of people because of the lingering elegance and confidence - because even the air changes when he steps in the room.

After looking around the flat his gaze stopped and he looked directly at her for the very first time. She held his gaze, not giving in on the sudden game, but her stomach tightened in fear, a fear she only felt when she was in a room with Sherlock Holmes, knowing he'll deduce her and know about the things she doesn't want him to know.

"Hi..." The greeting was so short and simple for a person like him, that she tilted her head a little in confusion. His voice was also slightly high pitched when he pronounced the 'I', but she quickly realized it was intentional.

"Sherlock isn't home... if he is who you are looking for." she said to him, thinking there was no way this man didn't come here to see Sherlock Holmes.

"I know. That's why I'm here."

For a moment she thought about telling him that John isn't home either, but then decided against it. He clearly isn't here to talk to John Watson. He's here to talk to her...

"I see." she looked away for a moment to think about what to do with him, but no idea came to mind. "Well then please have a seat. Although I wasn't expecting guests."

He accepted the invitation, taking a seat in Sherlock's armchair, while she tried to figure out who he was and what he wanted. Meanwhile the stranger leaned back and made himself comfortable, enjoying the situation and the fact that he is sitting in Sherlock's armchair.

He knows whose armchair he's sitting in - the realization hit her, only making the 'who is he' more interesting.

"Yes, you were." he spoke up so suddenly she had to shake her head a little.

"Excuse me?"

"You were expecting one guest or you were counting on one specific guest at least."

She looked at him again, pressuring her mind to think. He is someone important and he knows that as well. That was obvious. But important for who? Not for John. John wouldn't tolerate him at all - but Sherlock would. Sherlock would even appreciate all this act.

She tilted her head a little in realization.

"Moriarty? Good to know that now that name has a face." she noticed how his expression didn't change, even if he smiled at her realization - he was expecting it, for her to realize who he is. "May I know why you wanted to see me?"

"Just wanted to meet the ordinary people Sherlock keeps around."

"Ordinary?" she laughed. "You think ordinary people could live with Sherlock Holmes?"

"That doesn't make you less boring."

"Nor does it make you less annoying." she quickly answered, leaving the annoyance out of her voice. "Playing around with Sherlock, coming here uninvited. Next time send a message at least so I can prepare some tea."

His eyes shined up for a second as if for a short amount of time he was looking at something more interesting.

"Doesn't he annoy you? Keeping you from living on your boring, ordinary little life."

"Not really. I'm never bored at least. He keeps the boredom away."

"So loyal. Ordinary people can be so amusing, I should get myself one."

She just smiled at that.

"You really like to get under people's skin, don't you?"

"Of course I do, I mean that's the funniest part, isn't it?"

That's when she first noticed how he uses his body language when he's having fun - how his arms and shoulders are moving with him.

"I guess you're right. That can be funny, you should try it out more with Sherlock. It's enough if you play one note wrong on the violin."

But that wasn't his only memorable visit. No, all of his visits were more than memorable if she wanted to be honest. She could tell all of them apart, she could tell in which month they had accured...

He visited her many times, but he always sent her a message beforehand. A short one. Something like: 'I'm a street away dear.' or 'I hope the tea is ready.' But later on they became something more: 'I'd like to see you today.', 'I have a gift for you.' or 'You'll be out tonight.' She didn't dare to ask how he knows her number, how he knows so much about her - where she'll be, what she likes. It would've been unnecessary words and she wouldn't have gotten an answer.

So she kept her questions to herself - and she also kept their meetings for themselves. Even if Sherlock noticed the change in her behaviour and happily pointed it out, causing John to ask who she's meeting up with. Even if Mycroft pointed out that she had been out at night. Even if Mrs. Hudson nearly jumped out of her skin in happiness when both brothers accused her of dating someone.

But the most interesting one--

... the most interesting conversion they've ever had was special. Oh so very special.

He came without telling her about it beforehand, just like the first time they'd met. She was sitting in her armchair with her laptop in her lap, going through a victim's personal data to make a profile while Sherlock was too busy working on a much more interesting case. Apparently a triple suicide in one place isn't that interesting, at all.

She didn't hear him come in, but she noticed him standing in the doorway - because the door was once again, wide open. He just stood there in his Westwood suit, gloating in the fact that he had the element of surprise.

She looked up at him as she raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't call this time."

"I had business around here. I just decided to come in."

"Liar." she accused as she put the laptop aside and offered him Sherlock's armchair. "You knew they went out on a case, otherwise you wouldn't have come here. You enjoy working behind his back too much."

He took the offered seat and after he leaned back, he started to talk:

"Remember what I told you when we first met? About the loyal ordinary people?"

"Of course I do." she answered, half-offended that he thought so little of her. "You wanted to get yourself one."

"Yes, well you see dear, I changed my mind." once again, his body moved with his mood. "Maybe I shouldn't get myself an ordinary one, I mean they would bore me so easily. I think I'd be perfectly fine with a not so ordinary one."

She looked at him, trying to read him like she did so many times before that, but this time other than that smirk, she couldn't find out anything else. So she turned to examine his words, that's what was also interesting about Jim Moriarty, what he said and how he said it.

A not so ordinary one. How on Earth will he get one?

And then she realized that for Jim Moriarty, the hierarchy of the world is about ordinary and extraordinary people - and in that momemt he added the not so ordinary ones to the mix too. Even if he didn't like Sherlock, he accepted that he was like him - too clever, extraordinary. John was only, simply ordinary. Nothing more, maybe less. But he talked to her a lot. A whole lot without getting bored, without thinking about speaking to Sherlock directly so he could annoy him instead of her. He didn't gloat that he knew her and talked to her daily. For him she was middle class, she was that not so ordinary person.

She chuckled and stood up, deciding that she couldn't sit that through without moving.

"Oh no, you can't possibly think that I'd leave Sherlock for you." she shook her head in disbelief. "I mean I wouldn't be loyal, would I? What happened with loyality?"

"Ordinary people are loyal and loyality is boring." he leaned forward to pour some tea for himself, not really caring that Mrs. Hudson prepared that for John and Sherlock, and most definitely not him.

"Well then I must be really boring, because I won't just leave Baker Street."

"You don't have to leave to show you aren't loyal, darling, we've been talking for months without you telling about it to them." he leaned back again and took a sip from the tea.

"Yeah, well it's still a no thank you very much." she said as her chest rose and fell rapidly, her brain working as she thought about what he just said.

"No?"

"No. I mean why would I?" the question was left unanswered. "I'd only consider it if I'd-- own the fucking Crown Jewels."

She tried to think about something unrealistic to say, to show that her decision is unbreakable. But looking at him, she clearly chose the wrong thing.

Moriarty looked pleased instead of angry - and that grounded her into reality. She said something wrong. She could basically hear the cogs turn in his head.

"Well, in that case," he said as he got ready to leave. "I'll see you around, darling."

She was left there angry and sad, but the thing she didn't think about?

That a few days later she'd get a letter.

•••

"Goddamn it Sherlock, I told you to put the microscope away! I almost knocked it down and that's the only one we own!" she shouted as she put the said thing aside, saving it from a disaster.

"He's not home!" came the answer from John, who was sitting in his armchair watching the telly - or rather trying to find a channel worth watching.

"He's not?" she asked in disbelief. "And he went without either of us?"

"You know him. Once he wants to go somewhere he goes there with or without us."

She opened one of the cupboards to find two clean cups - the kind which hadn't met with blood, eyeballs or some kind of acid beforehand - and once she found some, she began to make some tea.

"Is the forest fruit one okay? We ran out of black tea."

"Yes, thank you."

"You owe me." she threatened jokingly. "Anything worth watching? We could watch some crime show now that Sherlock isn't here to spoil it." she offered.

"Good idea." came John's answer - she enjoyed watching shows and movies with him since he was the only normal person in the flat - him and maybe Mrs. Hudson, but even Mrs. Hudson's life was extraordinary. "One'll begin after the news."

"Fantastic." she said as she finished preparing the tea and walked into the living room with a silver tray.

And then John turned the news on - and she almost dropped the tray.

There he was. On the screen, in handcuffs as the officers took him away and he was smiling - more like grinning. It only took her a second to realize where he was - the Tower of London, where the damn Crown Jewels were kept.

God damn him. Both of them. Both Moriarty and Sherlock -- even John and Mycroft. All of them had to mess up her life and make it more exciting and interesting instead of boring. God damn her that she liked it.

The Crown Jewels. What did she say to him the last time they met? 'I'd only consider it if I'd own the fucking Crown Jewels.'

John looked surprised too. Not as much as she was, he didn't know she had been talking with the enemy. He didn't notice her shock thankfully and even if he did he must've thought it was a normal reaction.

"Moriarty-- that's Moriarty." he explained.

"I know." she said without thinking.

Before John could ask her how, she heard Mrs. Hudson call out her name from downstairs. She put the tray down quicker than usual, some tea was even spilt, and she was out of the flat in a heartbeat. She ran down the stairs, her heart beating fast.

"What is it, Mrs. Hudson? Did something happen?" she asked.

"Oh, not at all dear, it's just my hips. John was kind enough to give me some painkillers, but I couldn't really walk up the stairs right now." the woman explained with the usual enthusiasm. "But a letter arrived for you a few seconds ago. The postman must've forgotten about it in the morning."

And there it was, in Mrs. Hudson's hand. An envelope, a beige coloured one - the very elegant kind.

She took it from her quickly and just by the envelope itself she knew who sent it. The penmanship was perfect. Her name was written on it in black ink, the letters were slim and long.

"Who is it from dear?"

She tore it open, her fingers ripping the paper and she took the folded letter out. With uneven heartbeat, she began to read it:

'My dear,

I hope you'll enjoy the show I put on in the Tower, I know I'll most certainly do.

The diamonds in the envelope are from the Crown Jewels, forgive for not being able to give you the whole thing, but otherwise the police would be knocking on your door. Still, now you own parts of them. Nine diamonds to be exact, I sincerly hope all of them are in the envelope - otherwise I'll have to skin someone after my trial.

A promise is a promise. Now consider my offer. I'll pick you up at 7 p.m. as soon as I'm out.

- J. M.

P.S.: I hope I'll see you in court.'

John shouted her name from upstairs, wondering why she ran. She ignored him and looked inside the envelope.

Nine diamonds. Nine of them, some bigger than the others, were shining in it.

Mrs. Hudson saw them too and she gasped in surprise.

"Oh my, you didn't tell me you had found yourself a man dear."

"I didn't know it up until now either, Mrs. Hudson."

"What is it?" John was standing on top of the staircase, looking at them with confusion.

"She has a boyfriend." Mrs. Hudson said happily, clapping her hands together.

"She has a what?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." she argued, her eyes still on the diamonds.

"What is it then?"

She didn't know how to feel or what to feel.

Deep down she felt like a real woman. A woman someone, a very special someone, wants to court. A woman who's looked at as someone interesting, important and worth stealing for. She was flattered. Truly.

On the other hand she felt scared and confused. Jim Moriarty was still Jim Moriarty, and she was still the girl from Baker Street. With him she'll never feel completely at ease or safe, there'll always be a wall standing between them what they'll never be able to cross.

But still...

He was so interesting.

She looked up at John as she put the envelope in her pocket.

"I have a date."

Mrs. Hudson laughed in happiness.

She turned towards the stairs, her brain completely blocking John's voice out as it worked and worked, trying to figure Jim out.

Jim. He was already Jim in her head.

Then a strange question appeared in big letters in her mind like a neon sign:

Why nine?

#bbc sherlock #jim moriarty x reader #jim moriarty x fem!reader #jim moriarty #sherlock x reader

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fortheloveofwonderland · 5 months ago

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Midnight | Chapter 23 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - the last part of this chapter is mostly taken from the first chapter with some additions. We’ve come full circle now! Things speed up a little now. Summary - Luke and the rest of the BAU make strides in their investigation. Meanwhile, Spencer’s paranoia reaches fever pitch and he makes a decision for your future which could lead to your inevitable capture.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - paranoid Spencer, mentions of past child abuse, pregnancy, Spencer giving up, swearing, guns, explosions.

WC - 5.3k

Chapter 23 - Catch Me if You Can

It was two weeks after arriving home from New York that things started to fall into place.

Luke had convinced Emily to sign off on the request for extra security footage from Caesars Palace which had enabled him to track Spencer leaving the hotel room and into the parking garage which gave him a car licence plate of a Chevy Impala for which they’d had an APB out on ever since.

Luke had also discovered, through trawling police databases, two more bodies with similar MO’s to Green, Smith and Carlisle. Again it didn’t mean they were connected but it was certainly a pattern. Mary Dalton’s body had still not been found.

But the strangest part had happened this morning when Luke walked into the round table room to find the rest of the team already there, a photograph of a middle aged man on the big screen and case files littering the table.

JJ, Garcia, Emily and Rossi exchanged looks and seemed to be communicating between themselves without the use of words while Matt, Tara and now Luke himself looked on like the outsiders.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Luke sidled up to a free chair but didn’t sit down, instead he gripped the back of it while his eyes flicked between the four veteran agents.

“This man went missing two weeks ago. He left work on a Friday and was never seen again.” Emily pointed at the screen, her tone was a combination of frustration and dread.

“Until this morning.” Rossi added. “Some campers stumbled upon his body in the Mojave National Preserve in California.”

“He was stabbed forty three times.” JJ added, her brows pinched together.

“Do we have other bodies matching the MO? Surely we haven’t been called in for a single homicide?” Luke frowned, still looking between the four of them.

“We haven’t been called in at all.” Emily spoke again.

“Ok, someone needs to fill us in because there is clearly something you guys aren’t saying.” Tara vocalised before Luke had a chance.

Again the four of them exchanged looks, clearly trying to discern who would be the one to speak. Luke’s grip on the chair tightened, he knew whatever they said wasn’t going to be good.

“It’s less about the what and more about the who.” Rossi ran his hand over his greying facial hair.

Luke, Tara and Matt remained silent.

“This,” Emily pointed at the screen again. “This is William Reid.”

Luke’s eyes bulged a little, focusing on the photograph of the older man. There was something familiar about him, something in the eyes that Luke recognised distantly. And now he knew why.

“William Reid.” He croaked, his mouth suddenly dry. “As in…?”

“Spencer’s father.” Emily nodded.

“You think Reid killed his own dad?” Matt shook his head. “No, I don’t buy that.”

“William went missing the weekend Spencer and Y/N were in Nevada.” Garcia rolled her lip between her teeth.

“That has to be a coincidence. Why would he kill his father?” Tara sounded just as disbelieving as Matt.

Luke stayed silent, unable to form any words that would be helpful in this situation. JJ let out a shaky breath, stepping slightly closer to the table. Her eyes were downturned, she looked to be fighting some kind of internal battle.

“God I’d hoped I’d never have to repeat this.” She sniffed. “Years ago he confided in me. His father…he, uh, he sexually abused Spence. Probably other kids too. He told me once while he was high and I’m not even sure he remembers telling me. But I never forgot.”

Luke, Tara and Matt turned to her with wide eyes and slack jaws. Judging by the lack of surprise on the faces of the other agents, she’d already imparted this piece of information on them.

“Seriously?” Matt’s eyebrows were knitted deeply together.

“Yeah, I wish it wasn’t true, trust me.” JJ swallowed, pouting her bottom lip.

“Does this get us any closer to finding them?” Luke tried to stay on track and not get dragged into thoughts of a young Spencer suffering at the hands of his father.

“This doesn't, no.” Emily shook her head. Luke sensed there was more.

“But…?” He goaded someone to speak.

“Garcia has finally found where they brought the Impala. It was a small used car lot in Cedar Rapids. Reid used a licence with the name Samuel Truman which we have attributed to multiple motel check ins across the country.” Rossi spoke.

“It’s not yet pointed to where they are, but we’re getting closer.” Garcia looked at him with the most kindness she’d ever directed towards him. “We will find them, Alvez.”

Luke felt a pit forming in his stomach. This was the closest they’d been to finding you and Spencer and he should be positive. But he had a sinking feeling that no matter how many leads they found it would never be enough.

Maybe he’d never be able to free you from Spencer and it probably made him a fool for still trying. But he had to try and stay focused, and had to believe their break in the case would come. If he succumbed to the negative thoughts that were trying to consume him, he may never make it back.

And he had to do this for you.

***

Spencer had been on edge since you’d been to Vegas. His paranoia was getting the better of him, eating him away from the inside out.

He was absolutely certain the BAU were involved in Jesse’s reappearance and he’d spent the last few weeks trying to piece together all the ways this could blow up in both of your faces.

He kept detailed lists of all the ways the BAU could find you, any innocuous piece of information which could give you away. He barely left the house and when he did he was constantly looking over his shoulder. The Impala had been parked in the garage since Vegas in case it could be used to track the two of you down.

He’d been anxious to say the least. He jumped when he heard the mailman, dashed to the window every time a car drove by the house. He wasn’t sleeping, nowhere near as much as he should anyway. You were starting to worry that he was devolving. And it hit a fever pitch nearly three weeks after your return from Vegas.

You’d grown used to being alone in bed when you woke in the morning, usually finding Spencer in the living room staring at the front door with the SIG in his hand. This morning the living room was empty, as was the kitchen. And then you noticed the garage door was open.

Padding inside in confusion, you found him slinging a suitcase into the trunk of the Impala. You folded your arms over your chest, a frown embedded deep in your forehead as you watched him close the trunk and turn to face you.

“Oh good you’re awake.” He nodded at you, seemingly ignoring your confusion. “Get dressed, we need to leave.”

“Leave? Where are we going?” Your frown only deepened.

“I have no idea. But we have to go. The BAU will find us if we stay still for too long.” He picked another bag up off the ground and opened the back door of the car before tossing it in the back seat.

“So you’re proposing we just keep moving? We’re never going to settle down somewhere?”

“Not for the time being, no. Once we’ve got them off our backs we’ll make a long term plan. Once they aren’t on our tails we can look into fleeing the country. But right now we have to keep moving, yes.” He spoke as though his words were making perfect sense.

“Spencer, we don’t even know that they are on our backs. You’re being paranoid.” You unfolded your arms and tried to reason with him.

“I’m not taking any risks.” He shook his head. “They could come storming into this house at any minute. We’re sitting ducks, Y/N. I’m not making it that easy on them. So get dressed so we can leave.”

The last thing you wanted was to constantly be on the run, bouncing from city to city and never being able to put down roots. But of course with the things the two of you had done that was never going to be a realistic path.

You didn’t really think the BAU were onto you but there was a small possibility Spencer was right and running would be safer than the alternative. So instead of arguing, you simply nodded before turning on your heels and heading back inside the house to dress.

Half an hour later the two of you were in the car and heading east, no real destination in mind. You were gone like the wind.

***

Penelope tottered as fast as humanly possible towards the round table room, huffing and puffing and making little squeaking sounds under her breath. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor in the bullpen as she hurriedly made her way through the desks.

It had been a week since the discovery of William Reid’s body and nearly three weeks since she’d put the APB out on the Chevy Impala. This morning she’d gotten a hit on the APB from a speed camera on the I-95 as the vehicle headed east from

California. The team had been working all morning on trying to ascertain where you and Spencer might be headed.

But Garcia had found the smoking gun.

She quickened her pace up the stairs and along the corridor, bursting into the room at the end and desperately trying to catch her breath while the rest of the team turned to look at her. She fought to calm her breathing, still making strange noises and her hands were shaking.

“Garcia,” Emily spoke somewhat sternly. “What’s going on?”

“The thing…” Garcia panted, waving her hand in the air. “I found the thing.”

“What thing?” Tara frowned at the blonde.

“The thing. The thing we’ve been waiting for.” She took a few deep breaths, leaning against the door frame. “I know where Spencer and Y/N are.”

Six sets of eyes widened on her as she tried to calm her erratic breathing so she could fill them in on her findings. Luke slowly rose to his feet and moved closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“You found them?” He forced her to look at him and she nodded frantically.

“The car…” she began between heavy pants. “Was seen just outside of Phoenix. And Samuel Truman just checked into a motel in Cave Creek which is like…thirty miles north of Phoenix. They’re in Arizona.”

Luke’s arms fell back to his sides and he stumbled a little on his feet. He’d been waiting for this day but he’d never truly believed it would come. He glanced back at the rest of his team who were all slowly getting to their feet.

“We found them.” Luke croaked, still sounded unbelieving of his own words.

“Well done Garcia.” Emily smiled at the tech analyst, before turning to address the rest of her team. “Wheels up. And not in twenty, now. Spencer Reid killed his father and Mary Dalton, probably more. We find him, we most likely find the murder weapon and we can build a case from there.”

“What’s going to happen to Y/N? She’s technically an accomplice, right?” Luke looked and sounded downtrodden.

“I don’t know, Alvez.” Emily shrugged. “But right now our focus is Reid. We can worry about what will happen to Y/N later.”

With that Emily fled the room, the team following behind until Luke was left alone. It was easy enough for her to say they’d worry about you later but he hadn’t stopped worrying about you since the day you’d left the BAU.

But he knew capturing Spencer was the main priority. And once they did Luke would continue on his mission of protecting you to the bitter end.

***

You stood in the grimy bathroom of a seedy bar just down the road from the motel you’d stopped at on the outskirts of Cave Creek. You stared down at the item resting on the side of the sink through teary eyes.

Since Vegas you’d been focused solely on Spencer and his devolution, you’d been so preoccupied you’d completely forgotten the thought Jesse had put in your head.

It wasn’t until earlier that day when Spencer had stopped for gas and you’d found yourself in the bathroom on your knees with your head in the toilet bowl that it all came flooding back. While Spencer had been busy filling up the car you quickly purchased the test and stuffed it inside your purse.

Now you were standing over the sink staring at the positive pregnancy test.

It hadn’t even occurred to you to take the test at the motel. You’d stayed only long enough to drop your bags and then you told Spencer you needed some air before you found the closest building with a bathroom.

You’d already been fairly certain of what the outcome of the test would be and you needed time to gather your thoughts and feelings before you told

Spencer the news.

How the hell was this going to work? Spencer planned to pull out every trick in the book to stay one step ahead of the BAU no matter the cost. The two of you would be on the run for the rest of your lives, how could you possibly bring a child into that life?

You knew he deserved to know, it was his child after all. But how was this going to factor into his escape plans? How would you and this baby fit into this? It was one thing for him to be bringing you along on this but a child certainly wasn’t part of his idea.

You picked up the test as your tears overflowed. What did this mean for your future? If you even had one.

***

Spencer stared at his reflection in the mirror, knowing it was only a matter of time. He’d told you he planned to run, and continue doing so until the heat died down but he’d been lying to you, something he’d promised never to do again.

But the truth was Spencer hadn’t fled California in the hopes of out running the BAU, he’d been purposefully trying to draw them out.

He knew they would have figured out what car he was driving and would have a bulletin out on it. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the Impala was caught on camera and the BAU were alerted. He also knew they would have found where he brought the car which was why he’d checked into this motel under the same name he’d purchased the car.

The fact of the matter was, Spencer was too tired to keep this up any longer. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life on the run. He’d accepted his fate, he just hoped you would understand. Although he didn’t intend to be around to find out one way or another.

If he’d told you his true intentions there was no way you would have agreed to flea Twentynine Palms. He hadn’t wanted to lie to you again but this was for the best. As long as you were smart enough to talk your way out of everything, to put all the blame on his shoulders so you could get out of this and go onto live your life then that’s all that mattered.

Spencer Reid wasn’t afraid of death.

He wasn’t going to allow the BAU to arrest him, certainly not. But he knew you’d never willingly leave his side and so this was the only way he could think to get you away from him.

It was his way of protecting you. He knew you’d follow him to the ends of the earth and it just wasn’t fair on you. This was his only option to save you.

It would only be a matter of time before the BAU had this place surrounded, he imagined they were probably already on their way here now. He just had to bide his time now. It was simply a waiting game.

Come on guys, I’m making it real easy on you. Catch me if you can.

***

The minute the jet came to a stop on the tarmac, six bodies were already standing and heading to the doors. Two SUV’s awaited them along with a few local cop cars.

Emily was quick to dish out the Kevlar vests which they all hurriedly secured before splitting into two teams: Luke, Tara and JJ taking one car and Emily, Rossi and Matt having the other. Before her team could jump in the vehicles she gathered them around.

“It is imperative we tread lightly here.” She looked at each one of them individually. “We apprehend them so we can make our case against them. Spencer’s not stupid, once we have them in custody he knows it will only be a matter of time before we gather enough evidence to send him down. Hopefully he will save us the trouble and confess to everything.”

“Stop saying them.” Luke shook his head. “I’m not going to let Y/N go down for things Reid has done.”

“And hopefully she’ll cooperate too and tell us what we need to know. But for now Alvez, she’s just as liable as Spencer. I want them both in custody and then we can go from there.” Emily gave him a look that told Luke not to fight her on this.

He clenched his jaw firmly and took a step backwards.

“Fine.” He spat, knowing now wasn’t the time to get into an argument with her about this.

“Right, let's get this show on the road.” She looked over her shoulder and gave the local cops a nod of her head as the team split apart, hopping into their separate vehicles.

Luke got behind the wheel even though he knew he was in no state of mind to drive but he hoped it would try and focus his mind. Tara got in the backseat while JJ sat up front with Luke. As he started the engine, he was momentarily halted by JJ’s gentle touch on his tense shoulder.

“She’s going to be ok.” JJ told him as if she knew this for a fact. But her tone paired with the look she was giving him almost made Luke believe her.

He nodded, exhaled noisily through his nose. And then he put the car in drive and peeled away from the airstrip, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

***

You watched as Spencer stumbled on his feet as the realisation washed over him. His eyes were flitting between your face and your stomach for what felt like a lifetime.

When you’d dragged yourself back to the motel armed with your news, you hadn’t expected to tell him in this way. This news was so much bigger than these crumbling four walls. But you also hadn’t expected him to be on the brink of throwing in the towel, ready to give up. You had to give him something to fight for.

The seconds seemed like hours as he continued to look between your eyes and your belly. Long, painful seconds in which you had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.

“Say something,” you choked on a sob, hands coming to cradle your stomach out of instinct.

Spencer opened his mouth before quickly closing it again, rolling his bottom lip briefly between his teeth before trying to find his words once more. Again, he opened and closed his mouth, the only discernible sound was a small whimper he let leave his parted lips. His hands were noticeably jittering, his thumb tapping against the side of his thigh as if the rhythm was helping calm him.

You stared at Spencer, waiting for him to speak, begging him with your eyes to say anything, anything other than just staring at you this way. You watched his eyes flit from your face to your stomach and back again several more times before they finally settled on your eyes.

“You’re…?” He croaked hoarsely. “We’re…?”

“Yes.” You nodded, using one hand to wipe the tears that were hindering your vision. “Eleven weeks.”

He opened his mouth to speak again but this time before he could get any words out he heard something off in the distance. Judging by the way your eyes widened, you heard it too. Your tears fell heavier and Spencer turned back to the window, creeping towards it and cracking the curtains barely an inch. The pitch black desert was lit up by the unmistakable blue halos, somewhere far off but certainly heading your way. The wail of the sirens quickly grew louder as they closed in on the motel.

“Shit.” He spat, hurriedly pulling the curtains again and turning to regard you. “Shit.”

“This can’t be how it ends.” You held your stomach tighter, even more tears now breaking free.

Spencer made quick work of crossing the room to you and placing his large hands over your smaller, delicate ones. His own eyes gave away to his fear, and if Spencer was scared you knew to be petrified. Spencer Reid was scared of nothing.

“I won’t let it, I’ll think of something.” He closed his eyes like that might help him form a coherent thought.

Wake up, snap out of it. Or you may well never wake up again.

His earlier conviction for his death at the hands of law enforcement had flown out the window the second you’d shared your news. He couldn’t exit this mortal coil in such a way, not now he had a child on the way. He was not leaving his child like his own father had abandoned him. There had to be a way. There just had to be.

It was funny how one simple thing could change his mind so drastically. Spencer had been sure he was ready for where this was heading, ready to stop running, to stop fighting the inevitable. He didn’t think anything or anyone could change his mind. But this wasn’t just about him or you anymore. There was so much more on the line. Getting caught suddenly wasn’t an option.

The sirens grew louder and he could hear the gravel under tires as the vehicles got closer. The blue light of the flashing beacons bathed the room ominously, he could see it even behind his closed lids.

“Spencer!” You cried, jiggling up and down. “Spencer, do something!”

His eyes shot open and landed on the timepiece hanging on the wall. As he watched the clock roll to midnight, Spencer knew whatever he did next he had to be sure of. If he wasn’t then the three of you might not make it out of this alive. In a perfect world, you would all get away, but as long as Spencer could secure your safety then he would have to be ok with that. As long as you lived to bring their child into the world he could worry about everything else later.

But he had to do everything in his power for all three of you to make it out of this.

“Spencer!” You screamed as the sirens reached fever pitch, tires screeching on the asphalt outside as multiple vehicles came to abrupt stops outside the window.

The blue light completely encompassed the room, glowing harshly against your skin. Car doors started to slam closed and heavy footsteps on the gravelly parking lot got closer. He was sure he could hear weapons being drawn, sharp intakes of breath as the people outside his room took aim.

“Spencer Reid, we know you’re in there.” A voice sounded over a megaphone, causing you to gasp in recognition. “Spencer, we just want to help you, please?”

Emily Prentiss’ tone was stern yet held the sadness of chasing one of her own. You looked petrified and that was only intensified when Spencer started smiling. He surprised you when he took off past you back towards the bathroom. Frowning, you quickly followed.

“What are you doing? Spencer!” You chased after him and found him standing in the bathtub on his tiptoes and toying with a vent above the shower head.

You watched in confusion as he made quick work of the four screws holding the vent in place before yanking it off the wall and tossing it aside. He turned back to you with a smile.

“You think I didn’t scope out an escape route?” He chuckled, holding out his hand for you which you took as you stepped into the tub. “It’s just big enough for a human body to fit through on their front. It’s a straight path, the vent on the outside is already loosened, I made sure of it. As soon as you’re out, you’re going to run. Run as fast as you fucking can and do not look back. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Spencer Reid! If you can hear me, you need to come out with your hands up!” Emily’s voice sounded angrier now and he knew he didn’t have much time.

“What about you? You’ll be right behind me, right?” You grabbed his face in your hands, cloying to him like he was your only lifeline.

“Don’t worry about me, princess.” He smiled, bowing his head to capture your lips in a chaste kiss as he placed his hand on your belly. “I need you to focus on yourself and this little one.”

“Spencer, do not get yourself killed.” You sobbed. “We can’t do this without you.”

“And you won’t.” He tried to insist, although he wasn’t entirely sure of that fact himself. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

He kissed you again, this time laced with slightly more passion. Then he took a step back in the tub, bent down and placed a kiss on your stomach.

“Reid, if you don’t come out in the next sixty seconds we will breach the room.” This time it was Luke’s voice that permeated your momentary solitude.

“Spencer, I’m scared.” You whimpered when he stood back to his full height.

“I know. But trust me when I say, everything will be ok.” He wiped your tears once more whilst reaching behind himself with his free hand.

When he grasped your wrist and placed his firearm in your palm, you gasped, shaking your head frantically.

“Spence?”

“Take it, just in case.” He curled your fingers around it before ushering you towards the vent.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you from behind, closer to the vent opening. You turned your head and placed one last kiss on his lips.

“I lo…” you choked, quickly correcting yourself. “You’re my partner in crime, Spencer Reid.”

“And you’re mine. But I promise you I will see you sooner than you think.” He hoisted you higher and you tossed the gun up inside the vent before reaching out and grabbing the ledge.

He knew it wasn’t a promise he could keep, you probably knew it too, but he hoped it helped in any small way.

You pulled yourself up with Spencer’s help and wriggled onto your stomach in the small opening. When his hands left your body you suddenly felt desperately alone, wanting to immediately drop back down, fall into his arms and never let him go.

“Go, Y/N, please. You have to go.” He encouraged you.

“Thirty seconds, Reid! Don’t be stupid. Come out with your hands up!” Luke’s voice engulfed you both and with a small whimper you started to crawl forward down the vent, leaving half of your heart behind.

Spencer bent down and retrieved his second weapon from its hiding place inside his boot. He only had seconds to pull off a miracle. If this went wrong he would be killed, or worse, arrested.

Quickly stepping out of the tub and opening the cabinet beneath the sink he pulled out the large canister he’d stashed under there earlier in the day. It had been his back plan of sorts, if for whatever reason he changed his mind and decided to fight this. And now he was glad he’d had the forethought. This could quite literally blow up in his face. But he had to try, for the sake of his unborn baby.

“Twenty seconds!” Luke yelled again but Spencer wasn’t perturbed.

Taking a deep breath he uncapped the bottle and rushed back into the bedroom where he poured two thirds of it onto the strategic pile of clothes he’d left on the floor next to the bed. He walked backwards towards the bathroom, drizzling a trail from the clothes to the bathroom door.

“Ten seconds!” Luke called once again.

Spencer dropped the now empty container on the floor and stepped back inside the tub. He manoeuvred under the shower head and clambered up onto the lip of the tub, only just able to grip the edge of the vent opening.

His hand shook a little as he pointed his gun over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes on his target. One false move and it would all be over. He had one shot to get this right or he would never have the chance to meet his child.

He curled his finger around the trigger at the exact moment he heard the front door come crashing down and a flurry of law enforcement breach the motel. He took aim, he tightened his grip on the gun.

He swore as he pulled that trigger whilst desperately trying to pull himself to safety he saw Luke step over the threshhold of the bathroom, seconds before Spencer disappeared for good.

He left his old friend with a smile. A smile that conveyed he had won again. And then the explosion rang out in the small room, wracking the walls as the gas was ignited by the bullet propelled from the chamber.

Spencer forced himself down the vent as the heat from the rapidly growing fire started to fill the room accompanied by the sound of screams.

He’d pulled out every trick in his arsenal to make this last escape. He didn’t regret a moment of it, not a single one since starting this crusade. Because everything he’d done had led him to you and your future child.

The BAU never stood a chance. And his last thought and he pulled himself to freedom was, you’ll never catch us, mother fuckers.

Feeling you closing in,

Brushing against my skin.

Make you betray your eyes

When I hide in plain sight,

That's just the way I win.

I paved my path,

Somewhere hard to follow.

Outplayed, outclassed,

I said…

Catch me if you can,

I'm gone just like the wind now.

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no.

So catch me if you can.

I pull out every trick,

I don't regret a thing, no.

You're runnin' after me,

Chasing apologies.

When you can't get a grip.

I paved my path,

Somewhere hard to follow.

Outplayed, outclassed,

I said…

Catch me if you can,

I'm gone just like the wind now.

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no.

So catch me if you can,

I only feel at home when I'm on the run,

I only open doors just to pick the locks.

Too busy throwing stones at your fragile thoughts,

I paved my path,

Outplayed, outclassed.

Catch me if you can,

(I'm gone just like the wind now).

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no, hah.

So catch me if you can.

So catch me if you can,

Woo!

'Cause once I plant my feet,

Taking the lead,

Better believe,

You never had a chance, no.

So catch me if you can.

@bubblebuttewade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective @rebelliousstories

#unsub spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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charlie-thewitch · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter IV

First

Shen Jiu has to consciously stop his hand from playing with the reins. Eyes ahead, back as straight as a bamboo pole and biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from outright dumping the clone on the street.

Why. The. Fuck. Is he watching Shen Jiu so intensely? Is he already regretting coming with Shen Jiu? Bad luck then. They are going to Cang Qiong and Shen Jiu is testing to see if they are related, whether the copy likes it or not. He was the one to follow Shen Jiu, so the fault is completely on the other.

Such a fool; offering him the missing piece of his identity. As if Shen Jiu would let him leave after that.

"You said we didn't have names " A simple opening, an offering to talk. If Shen Jiu has to carry any and all conversations he is honestly abandoning this guy anyway. "I suppose you have one by now."

"Ah." Some shuffling of clothes behind him and the other is even closer now although, blessedly, does not touch Shen Jiu at any point. Just leaning over the wooden boxes separating them. "Mo-Jie named me Yuan when I was little, after I was bought. She was the one in charge of the new slaves and taught us how to do chores." A sigh. "I told her how mother used to call you her little warrior and she said 'If he was her warrior you should be her shield.'"

Little warrior? Shen Jiu wouldn't ever have thought someone could think of him as a warrior. A coward, if one asks Liu-shidi or Qi-shimei. A snake, if one asks literally any of the others head disciples. Trash, if Yue Qi ever deigns to answer anything. But a warrior?

"Xiǎo zhànshì?"

"Mmh. Mother used to say that Gege came to the world kicking so hard that he bruised the midwife at birth. A single little foot-shaped bruise." Shen Yuan laughs again. A sweet ringing bell. He is always laughing, Shen Jiu has found, always smiling now that they have left the auction. Maybe he is just an airhead. "And Gege would never let go of my hand in case I ran to make trouble, always so determined to keep Mother and this Didi safe... Always ready to kick that man when he was mean to us."

Hm. So his fighting was a natural thing, who would've thought.

"Gege has his own name now, right? Will he tell Didi? I don't mind just calling you Gege but I want to know." And here comes the feeling of inadequacy.

How nice of Shen Yuan to have been given a name with meaning. Something conected to his mother even when she couldn't give him one herself. How fortunate of Shen Yuan to have been sold to a nice house were other servants treated him so well.

Unlike this unlucky rotten brother that was given to the Qiu and treated worse that a pig. A living doll for the little mistress and a wiping boy for the young master. A toy for the household to play with. Furniture that doesn't protest the mistreatment and doesn't fight back. An unwilling treat for them.

How dare someone who stole his face have such a nice life, so cozy and comfortable. No wonder he gets to be so stupid as to follow a guy that could very well just resemble him by chance or a brother that could do anything to him.

"This one is Shen Jiu, Head disciple of Qing Jing Peak on Cang Qiong Mountain Sect." Maybe Shen Yuan had a happy life but Shen Jiu clawed his way to the top. He freed himself and brought himself to the place he has today. Fought, deceived and cheated his way to the second ranked peak of the most important and powerful sect in the world by his own hard work.

What of it if his cultivation is not as great as it should be? He repaired it by himself with no help whatsoever. Shen Jiu would like to see someone as privileged as Liu Qingge do that without dying in the process. What of it if he fights dirty or is plagued by recurring qi deviations? He did what he had to and would do it all over again if he were to start over.

"Really?!" The yelling takes him by surprise. Shen Jiu turns around just in time to see Shen Yuan almost fall from the cart from the jump he did after hearing that. There are those big and radiant eyes again, looking at Shen Jiu like no one else had ever seen him. Like he truly is worthy of awe. It makes him supremely uncomfortable. "Gege is so awesome! Isn't Cang Qiong the biggest sect? And Gege is head disciple!"

"Is not-"

"Gege must be so powerful and knowledgeable! No wonder he disarmed the guard and cultivator so quickly. They must've been so much older than Gege and he still won!" Shen Jiu turns back to facing the front, now determined to ignore the other. At least until his face cools down a little.

This is so stupid. Shen Jiu has never had this much trouble keeping his composure! Not even Liu-shidi can make him want to drown himself in the river like this. At best he makes Shen Jiu want to stab him a little, just a bit.

A murmur. "Oh, if only I could be more like Gege. Maybe if I had any talent, Shifu would have taught me like a true disciple..."

Prev - Next

Beta by: @sillygoofyqueer

#Atticwifed Twin Au #svsss #shen yuan #shen jiu #jiuyuan #scumcum #shencest #So what was it about unreliable narrators?#neither of them ever tell a full truth and it gives me a headache #Also. If someone thinks they can help me with beta'ing this I will kiss you #My chicken brain is set to spanish so verbs and tenses are hard :c

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lulublack90 · 7 months ago

Text

Prompt 6 - Strawberry

@jegulus-microfic May 6, Word count 835

Previous part First part

“So you can ask this room for anything, and it’ll give it to you?” Regulus questioned, staring around the room James had asked for. It was light and airy like the Gryffindor common room. There was a fireplace, an array of crystal phials on a bench and a selection of books on a small bookcase.

“I think so. The only thing it can’t conjure is food, but other than that, yeah pretty much.” Regulus looked as if he was in awe.

He walked to the bookcase and ran a finger across the spines of the books as he read the titles. He pulled one off the shelf and opened it. James wasn’t sure which book it was, but he’d asked the room for some on animagus transformations.

“I need to keep a mandrake leaf in my mouth for a whole month?!” Regulus exclaimed as he read on. James stared at the little wrinkle in the middle of Regulus’s brow formed by the frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. He wanted to go and stroke it with his thumb to wipe it away. He blinked wide. Why had he felt the urge to do that? “How on earth did my brother manage that? His mouth is never closed long enough to keep anything in.” Regulus continued, seeming to have missed James’s little crisis. James cleared his throat.

“Yeah, it was hard, especially when my mum sent him some strawberry bon bon’s, and he was too scared to eat them in case the leaf moved.” James chuckled to himself. Sirius had ended up giving them to Remus to hide as the temptation was too great. Regulus replaced the book on the shelf.

“How did you find this place?” He asked James. James looked around the room.

“Remus and Sirius found it. They sneak off here sometimes when the noise of the tower gets too much. I don’t know what they do though, they always come back dishevelled.” He hummed gently as he took the mandrake leaf he’d stolen from the greenhouses out of his pocket.

He turned back to Regulus to hand it to him and stopped. Regulus was standing there with a look of bewilderment on his face. “It’s surprisingly easy to steal from the Herbology greenhouses.” He said, guessing that Regulus was surprised that he’d gotten hold of a mandrake leaf. “Now you have to put this in your mouth while looking up at a full moon. If it falls out, or you swallow it, you have to start again. We found it easier to tuck it under your tongue and pray the house elves are making a lot of soup that month.” Regulus shook his head and reached out for the leaf. James placed it carefully in his hand. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of Regulus’s palm, and he felt a jolt go through him. His eyes snapped up to Regulus’s, but the other boy’s face was blank.

“Is that it? Just the leaf? Did we really need to meet in my brother's sex room just for this?” Regulus grimaced.

“Well, there are a lot of other steps that we need to do as well. The leaf is just the first step. We need to get our hands on a Death’s-head Hawk Mo—Did you just say sex room?!” James gasped. Regulus smirked.

“You can’t seriously be that oblivious. My brother and his wolf were all over each other yesterday. And you said they sneak off here, only the two of them?” James’s mind slowly started connecting the pieces together.

“But, he’s always been touchy-feely, has Padfoot,” James said, while at the same time thinking, but only with me, never Remus. No, he decided. Sirius would have told him. Sirius would never keep something like that from him. Unless. Unless he was afraid of how James would react.

“Why wouldn’t they tell me?” He said softly, not to Regulus, just voicing his thoughts. “Why wouldn’t he tell me?” He felt a profound sadness take over him. He looked up at Regulus. “Are you sure?” He asked. Begging Regulus to deny what he’d said. But he didn’t.

“Yeah, pretty sure. That was more than friendship how they were acting yesterday. And as for him not telling you, how am I supposed to know? He never tells me anything.” Regulus’s tone was sharp by the end. They all knew about the issues between the Black brothers. James found himself feeling sorry for the Slytherin. He reached over and squeezed his hand.

“He wants to tell you stuff, you know. But it’s complicated.” James sighed, he didn’t know how else to put it. Sirius was scared anything he told his brother would get back to his parents or worse. Regulus scoffed.

“Are we done here?” And without waiting for an answer, he ripped his hand from James and stalked out of the room, leaving James in his thoughts, thinking about how to ask his best friends if what Regulus had said was true.

Next part

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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The Curveball Part 6 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob fears that things with Molly are a lot more physical than emotional for her. But when Molly gets a visit from Casey, it helps her recognize just how strong her feelings for Bob really are.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, 18+

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob checked the time while he made dinner and smiled. Molly would be over soon. She never gave his key back, and he never asked for it back. It had been on her keyring for a few weeks, and he loved it when she let herself in and called his name.

He heard the key in the door and froze, closing his eyes to let her voice wash over him. "Bobby?"

"In the kitchen, Mo," he answered. She looked perfect to him even though she came right from work. And Bob wanted her immediately. But the way she always initiated sex with him as soon as she saw him was starting to become a red flag. So he held back. Or he tried to. But her arms were around his waist, and her lips were on his neck, and she was whispering something dirty.

He was the one constantly whispering that he loved her. But she hadn't said it back. Not once. And now, in spite of himself, he was getting hard for her as she took his hands and guided them up the front of her scrubs top and inside her sports bra.

Immediately his brain told him something new and exciting was going on, and then Molly said, "I got something for you." He ran his thumbs across her nipples. The little bars he liked so much were gone, which sent him into a state of panic. But as she peeled off her top and her bra, Bob's heart started pounding. A strangled sound escaped him as he looked at Molly's nipples which were now sporting delicate gold rings with charms hanging from them. Glasses charms.

"Honey," he moaned, dipping his head down to taste her there before he could even comprehend what he was doing. And a moment later, when Bob was laying on his living room floor with his pants pulled down and Molly riding him, he thought perhaps he was part of the problem.

As he fingered the tiny glasses charms and enjoyed the look and feel of her bouncing on his cock, he realized that he couldn't keep his hands off her for more than five minutes. When he was with Molly, he wanted to be with her in every way. And he still didn't even know what this relationship was. But he knew he could make her cum. He was good at it. Loved doing it.

She collapsed on him, shaking and moaning his name, and he thought he'd gladly do anything to hear her say she loved him.

"What's for dinner?" she asked. "Something healthy?" she added, climbing off of him and letting his cum drip onto his abs. She knelt down to lick him clean, and then he got to his feet as well. Bob was just in awe of her.

"Pasta and salad," he replied, and she kissed his chin and looked up at him with the softest eyes. He wished he could better understand this balance they had which was far skewed in the physical direction. But when she looked at him like that, he felt like everything was okay.

The following day, Molly had to work a day shift. It was Saturday, and Bob was exhausted at the tee ball game. She kept him up half the night with her hands and mouth and pussy all over him. He had literally no idea how Molly was going to manage an eight hour shift when he could barely focus for a one hour game. Plus, he was going to pick Molly up after work and take her to the bar.

"You okay?" Bradley asked him with a smirk. "Damn, you look beat."

Bob sighed and fixed his baseball cap. Maybe he could talk to Bradley about his apprehensions. "Molly came over last night, and she barely let me sleep-"

Bradley grimaced. "Please. Say less."

Bob cradled his face in his palms. "I'm trying to be serious here, okay? I think she is way more into me physically than emotionally. And trust me, this is an issue I never dreamt I would have with a woman."

"Bob," Bradley said with a sigh. "As much as I do not want to know details of any sort... are the two of you doing anything together besides fucking? Like going out? Binge watching a series on TV? Cooking meals? Talking about shit?"

"Yes," he replied. "She's got me addicted to serial killer documentaries. I take her out for sushi at least once a week. But she's not allowed to cook anything in my kitchen after the smoke detector scare. And we went for a hike last weekend. The other night, we laid on her living room floor and talked for hours. But I'm telling you, everything begins and ends with sex. Her hands were down my pants in the grocery store parking lot a few nights ago."

Bradley snorted. "You're fine, Bob. You're actually living the dream and complaining about it. You have a girlfriend who wants you in some capacity or another around the clock. Just enjoy it."

But that was the other problem. Molly wasn't actually his girlfriend. Was she? Did she think she was? Would he sound like an idiot if he asked for confirmation? Bob wanted confirmation, but he had no idea how to ask. And now it was time to start practice.

Every time Bob glanced toward the bleachers and saw Molly's sister, he had to do a double take. But while she was cheering for Everett, she was also subtly waving to Bradley. Thank goodness they had made up.

After the Tiny Eagles won, Bob went home, took a shower, and then took an afternoon nap. He hadn't done this since he had the flu a few years ago. He woke up just in time to leave to pick Molly up from work and take her to the Hard Deck. He changed into jeans and a shirt and fixed his hair. If she didn't get a chance to change after her shift, he'd stop by her place and let her get ready there.

Now that Nat had met Molly, she kept asking Bob to bring her out to the bar, and finally tonight they were both off. But he was nervous to have her around all the guys. His friends would be bad enough, but the bar was a hangout for naval officers, and women were a hot commodity there.

When he pulled into the hospital parking lot, it was packed. Bob thought he saw her car two aisles over as he parked his truck and hopped out to go meet her. And there she was, walking toward her car with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her ID lanyard in her hand. She hadn't spotted him yet, so he just stopped to admire her. She'd changed into some high-waisted white shorts and a light blue crop top with one of Bob's dress shirts unbuttoned over it. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and she was quite effortlessly the hottest woman Bob had ever encountered in his life.

But when she got to her car, Bob watched her expression turn annoyed. He wasn't sure how he missed it, but there was a guy on a motorcycle parking her in. When Molly got close to him, he hopped off, and Bob could hear Molly say, "Casey."

Bob's blood ran cold. She was meeting him here, in the parking lot where she was supposed to be meeting Bob. Molly had reassured him that she was done with Casey, and he had believed her. She promised Bob that he was the only guy she was seeing. He was three parking spots away now, but he couldn't seem to make himself close the distance to Molly. He could almost feel the rejection from here. Yet she didn't look quite happy that Casey was in her personal space.

He was trying to give her a bouquet of the wrong kind of flowers. She liked gas station flowers. Didn't this guy know anything? And now he had Molly caged in against her car. He was going to kiss her. Bob stumbled closer, and then Casey actually did kiss Molly's cheek right next to her mouth.

Bob needed to leave. He needed to go back home. Watching this unfold was going to shatter his heart.

"Fuck you, Casey," Molly said, shoving him away. He was big, and he didn't really budge, but Molly looked pissed off now. "You're only here because you want to get laid."

"Come on, sexy. I got you flowers. I'll take you for a ride to the beach. It'll be fun."

"Not interested," she replied, but he was still right there, practically touching her.

"Why haven't you been texting me back?" he asked, his voice getting a little more gruff.

She rolled her eyes and said, "I'm seeing someone else."

"So am I. Doesn't mean we can't fuck around. Nobody fucks like you. I missed these, too," he said, chuckling while he reached for Molly's shirt, swiping his thumb along the fabric near her nipples as she shoved him again.

Bob was running now, fists clenched as he shouted, "Hey!"

Molly and Casey both turned to face him as he rushed across the aisle, and while Casey looked irritated and mildly confused, Molly's face lit up in a beautiful smile.

"Bobby," she sighed, stepping right into his arms and pressing her cheek to his chest. He held her close, but he didn't take his eyes off Casey.

"This the guy you're seeing?" he asked with a laugh.

Molly didn't have a chance to respond before Bob said in a voice with an undercurrent of rage, "You don't touch her."

There must have been something in his tone, because Casey didn't respond. He just set the flowers down on the top of Molly's car as she pressed her lips to Bob's neck. Her fingers were in his hair as she whispered, "I missed you all day."

"Molly, are you okay?" Bob asked, and she pulled away from him and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good." Then she raised her middle finger in the air and said," Fuck off, Casey," as the other man climbed on his motorcycle and rode away. "He's just mad because I don't want him anymore."

"He doesn't get to touch you, Honey," Bob whispered, tracing the perfect curve of her bottom lip with his thumb. "I love you." He'd said it several times before, but usually in the dark, and never while making eye contact with her. She kissed his thumb and then his lips, but she didn't respond the way he had hoped.

"Only you get to touch me," she murmured against his mouth, and Bob's heart was pounding for a different reason now as the sound of the motorcycle faded away. "Just you."

"Mo, Honey." His big hands were on the soft skin of her waist, tucked inside his shirt that she was wearing. She skipped a bra. Bob could see the shape of those pretty new rings through her crop top. And she was kissing him, giving him her soft moans as he held her.

"I thought we were going to the bar," she whispered, smiling in the dying sunlight as his hands slid down to her butt. "Wanna see my new friend, Nat."

Bob stroked her lip again. "You'll stay with me the whole time, yeah? Me or Nat. The whole time."

"I will," she promised, looking very pleased with herself. Looking like she had Bob exactly where she wanted him.

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

The drive was pretty quiet as Bob gripped the steering wheel and drove exactly the speed limit.

"So...my sister told me the Tiny Eagles won today."

"Yeah," he grunted in response. Molly sat quietly, unsure how to respond to him when he was like this. He was never like this.

After a mile or so, he asked, "Did you tell Casey to meet you at your car?"

Molly laughed. "Are you serious right now? No!"

"Then why was he there, Mo?"

She turned to face him as he drove, street lights illuminating his face with a golden glow. "The hospital was probably the only place he could find me. I've been avoiding his calls and texts, and I'm at your place more often than I'm at mine."

"Why does he think it's okay to touch you like that?" he asked. His voice sounded calm, but Molly could tell he had to work at it.

"I guess.... because I'd never told him no before," she said softly. "Are you mad at me?"

"At you?" he asked with a bitter sounding laugh. "No. Not at you. Maybe at myself a little bit." He pulled into the bar parking lot and found a spot in the back corner where it was dark. Molly could only make out his profile and the silver glint of his glasses when she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him.

"Don't be mad, Coach Bob. Casey is just upset that I moved on and that he has a tiny penis, and he can't do anything about either of those."

She crawled across the seat, and even though she could tell he didn't really want to, he welcomed her in his lap. She straddled his thighs and kissed him, and after a few seconds, he was kissing her back. He was a little rough, and Molly was whining softly as his lips found her collar bones and her neck.

She rubbed herself against him. He was rock hard in his jeans, and she was already panting and clenching around nothing. She needed him, just like she always did. Her hands went to his zipper, and he didn't fight it as she pulled him free from his jeans.

"Bobby," she gasped when his hands eased her shirt up, and he leaned down to kiss her nipples. She was still wearing the new glasses rings she bought in his honor, and he was pulling them into his mouth one at a time and sucking. She struggled out of her shorts, only glancing around briefly to make sure nobody was watching. It didn't really matter though as long as she could feel him inside her. So she yanked her panties to the side and hissed in pleasure as she sank down around his cock.

"Molly," he grunted, brow creased as he looked at her. He shook his head before he grabbed her by the back of the neck and smashed his lips against hers. When Bob thrust up into her, she screamed, the sound muffled by his mouth. His unfastened belt buckle was rubbing against her clit, and she was already shaking.

"Oh my god," she squealed, pulling his hair for leverage as she rode him rough until she was cumming, back arched in pleasure. Then he grabbed her by the hips and fucked her until he was groaning and whining. His mouth found her breasts again as he filled her up with his cum. Molly held onto him while she shook. She hoped he didn't mind a mess on the front of his jeans, because she wasn't exactly sure how they'd make it out of the truck looking tidy.

"God damn it, Molly!" Bob growled, panting and tipping his head back against the seat. He was looking at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. But he sounded annoyed, and now Molly just wanted to go get her car and go home for the night, because she felt like she was doing everything wrong.

"What?" she asked softly. He came. It wasn't like the quickie wasn't good for him. Hell, he was still inside her.

But when he tipped his head to look at her again, he looked so sad. She felt tears sting her eyes as he asked, "Is it just physical for you, Honey? Is that all this is?"

"What are you talking about?" she gasped, yanking her shirt down to cover herself. She reached for his hand, and he let her lace her fingers with his.

Bob took a deep breath and said, "I'm talking about me and you." He couldn't even meet her eyes. He was looking at her cheek as he added, "You initiate sex all the time. I need to know. Is this just physical to you?" He was gesturing between their bodies with his free hand, and Molly's heart plummeted into her stomach.

"Bob," she gasped. "No." She kissed him, but he kept his mouth firm. "No," she whispered against his lips. "It's not just physical."

"Molly, you know I can't say no to you," he said, voice raspy. "You're just going to keep messing me up every single time, aren't you? I don't even know what we're doing here. I don't know what this is. You've got me so confused about what you want."

"You!" she practically shouted. "I want you!"

He closed his eyes. "You're all over me like this. But I don't like the way my heart feels."

Molly sobbed. This was a new low, even for her. The man she loved was actually still inside her, and he was about to tell her he didn't want to see her anymore. "But Bob... I love how I feel when I'm with you."

He looked miserable. "I know. I know you said I can make you orgasm, and you said I'm big."

"Not like that!" she gasped. He was cradling his forehead in his hand as she added, "I've never felt this happy around a man before. Not just because you're good in bed, Bobby. I've never needed someone physically all the time like this, because I've never been in love like this. I love you."

He opened his eyes and softly asked. "You do?"

She nodded and swiped at her tears. "Of course I do. It's just... I've never said that before. I've never been in love before. Showing you how I feel physically is the easiest way for me to try to make you understand that."

She was shaking with unshed tears as Bob pulled her against him and kissed her ear and the side of her neck. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I've never been with someone who loved me."

"I do, Molly. I love you. I want you to be my girlfriend," he whispered, running his big hands up and down her back.

"I kind of thought I already was," she replied with a soft laugh. She kissed his cheek. "But yeah, I definitely am now."

"Perfect." Bob's voice finally sounded calm, and this time when she kissed his lips, he returned every single one.

"I've been thinking it for weeks, but I was scared to say it," she told him, her eyes fluttering closed. "Only two other people alive have ever heard those words from me, so if you think you're not important, Coach Cute Glasses, you're wrong." She opened her eyes, kissed the tip of his nose and said, "I love you."

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

Only a minimal mess was made when Molly eventually eased herself off of Bob's lap after telling him she loved him about a hundred more times and assuring him it was not just physical. Now they were both fully dressed and walking across the parking lot toward the bar entrance hand in hand.

"Is it bad that I'm a little nervous to meet the rest of your friends?" she whispered, looking up at him.

"Don't be nervous. If anything, I'm the one who's nervous, Honey. They're all going to flirt with you relentlessly and try to get me flustered."

Molly laughed as he held the door open for her, and she walked inside the noisy bar where the jukebox was blaring. "I'll just tell them we had sex in the parking lot ten minutes ago. Then they will be the ones who are flutered."

"Please don't," he groaned. "And, Mo? Is it okay if I just do this...." He reached for the front of the dress shirt she had on and did the middle button. He knew he was blushing as he said, "I don't really want these guys looking at you there."

She smirked. "You don't want to make them jealous?"

Bob's lips parted in a soft smile before he kissed her forehead. "Just look at your face, Mo. Gorgeous. They'll be plenty jealous without knowing about your piercings."

"Bob," she whined. "Stop being so perfect, okay? Perfect boyfriends get blowjobs whenever they want them."

He was still blushing as he led her toward the pool table where the other aviators, minus Bradley, were all hanging out. "There they are!" Nat said, hopping off of her stool and heading toward them. And then Bob had to watch every single one of the guys look Molly up and down like she was a dessert platter while she gave Nat a little hug.

"Holy shit," Jake said, eyes soft as he laughed. "Bob, come on. Phoenix said you were bringing the girl you're dating."

"Yeah," Bob confirmed, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

"Bob," Jake gasped. "She's fucking hot."

"I know," he replied as Molly reached for his hand. "Guys, this is Molly. My girlfriend."

You could have heard a pin drop in the corner of the bar. Nat sighed and rolled her eyes before kicking Payback in the shin. He stumbled forward and offered Molly his hand. "Hi, I'm Payback. Or Reuben."

"Hi," Molly replied, shaking his hand. "I kind of wish I had a fun call sign. I'm just Molly."

"Oof," Jake whispered. "I can't think of a few call signs for her."

"Don't," Bob pleaded, shooting him a look.

"She's a smokeshow, Bob," Jake told him with pride in his voice. "I don't know how you did it, but excellent job."

"Thanks," he muttered, watching Fanboy and Coyote flirt and laugh with her. A moment later, Nat was leading Molly up to the bar to get drinks, and Bob dug his wallet out of his pocket. He tried to hand it to her, but she just kissed his cheek and whispered, "I love you," before pushing it back against his chest.

"How the hell did you manage to pull that one?" Coyote asked, watching Molly walk away in her tight shorts. "I've got to know."

"Seriously, Bob," Fanboy chimed in. "I mean, not to be rude, man, but damn."

Now his self esteem was taking a bit of a hit again, but when Molly came back, she pushed him down onto a stool and perched herself on his thigh. She handed him one of the beers she was holding and kissed him. "I love you," she crooned with a soft smile. "The more I say it, the better it feels."

She sipped her drink as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Then they played a little pool and threw some darts, and Molly was never far from his arms. The guys were all still looking at him like he was some sort of magician, but she didn't seem to notice. She loved him. She kept telling him she loved him.

She said it right in front of Nat, and Bob watched his friend blush, too. Because now Molly was a little tipsy, and she had her hand on his abs under his shirt. "Bobby, we should go home soon. I love you, and I wanna fuck you."

"Mo," he gasped, kissing the top of her head. "I love you, too. But everyone else can hear you, Honey."

"I don't care," she replied, licking his neck before she smiled at the guys. "You don't care if I tell Bob I love him and wanna fuck him, do you?"

They all looked at her, wide eyed and shaking their heads.

"See, Lieutenant Floyd? They don't care."

Bob lasted another five minutes before she was dragging him out to the parking lot, ready to go home.

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

Bob had Molly draped across him in bed on Sunday morning. The sky outside looked a little stormy, so they used that as an excuse to not move. "Let's just say put," he whispered, running his fingers along her arm. Goosebumps broke out in their wake, and she sighed.

"Not even worth moving when we're so comfortable," she told him, squeezing his side.

He was feeling so much better now about the way Molly responded to him physically. Now he knew that she loved him. They were in a relationship with a label. He thought he'd be able to enjoy the physical romance as much as he was enjoying the emotional romance now.

Then their quiet cuddling was interrupted by his phone going off four times in a row with new text messages. Bob kissed her forehead and murmured, "Just when I was ready to stay right here until it was time for you to go to work."

Molly giggled and rolled off of him to reach for his phone. "I have to pee anyway." She handed him his phone and his glasses, and Bob watched her sashay out of his room completely naked.

He groaned as he opened a bunch of messages from his sister Rebecca. "Oh no." He never responded to her about going to Piper's birthday party which was now just six days away. Really, he only wanted to go if Molly went with him, but asking her to meet his family was stressing him out.

"What's wrong?" she asked, already climbing back into bed with him. His eyes were trained on her nipples as she eased herself down against his chest. The way her piercings pressed against him somehow calmed him now. He was just so used to her being here.

"Do you want to go to Piper's birthday party with me?" he blurted out.

She ran her fingers through his hair with a smile. "When is it? I might have to change my work schedule."

"Saturday afternoon. Up in San Bernardino. And look, we haven't been dating very long, and my whole family is going to be there, so if you don't want to go, Honey, I totally understand."

"Oh," she gasped softly. "You want me to meet your family, Uncle Bob?"

He closed his eyes, unwilling to lie to her. "Desperately." He cracked one eye open to find her grinning at him before easing herself down his body.

"Perfect boyfriends get blowjobs," she reminded him before disappearing beneath the covers and wrapping her lips around him. She really must have thought he was perfect based on the way she got him off. And when she was done, she licked his tongue and told him she'd go to the birthday party.

But when Saturday came, Bob found out that Molly had to give up her daytime shift to accommodate the party. She tried to shrug it off when he picked her up. "I'm just a little worried about making my rent with a day short of pay, but it'll be fine," she told him, slipping into his truck with the gift she insisted on buying. "I have money in savings."

Bob was about to tell her he'd pay her rent, but she leaned across the seat and kissed every viable thought out of his brain. So he put his truck in gear while Molly was in charge of the music, and the ninety minute drive to his parents' house felt like nothing when he was with her.

When he pulled down their driveway, Molly was wiping her palms on her sundress. "I'm a little nervous," she admitted. "I've never met parents before." Once again, Bob couldn't understand how he was lucky enough to be Molly's first for so many things.

"They'll love you. My sister Rachel is ridiculous. You'll like her. And I'll be with you the entire time."

She nodded and crawled out his door behind him and into his arms. "If they don't like me, I'm blaming you."

The introductions were even more shocking than the night at the Hard Deck in that Bob's entire family was looking at Molly with mixed expressions. Rebecca was excited to see her again since they had already met. Even Piper gave Molly a quick hug. But Bob's parents and his middle sister were looking at him with his arm around Molly with barely concealed shock.

"I don't think they like me," Molly whispered, trying to dig her feet in.

"That's not it, Mo," he promised. "It's more like they can't believe I didn't make you up."

When Molly shook hands with his mom and then his dad and then Rachel, they all glanced at him. "Welcome!" his mom said. "The way Bob speaks about you, well... you seemed too good to be true, Molly!"

She shrugged with a little laugh. "Well, I'm just regular, old me."

"No, that's not true," Rachel replied with a smirk. "Bob must be ready to buy a ring or something, because the last time he brought a girl home, she dumped him the next day. And he vowed to never bring another one unless he was going to marry her."

Molly turned to look at Bob where he stood behind her. "Thanks, Rachel," he said with a fake smile and an unspoken promise that she would pay for that later. "Your mind is like a steel trap, isn't it?"

Rachel just shrugged and ate some potato chips. "Just keeping you honest. Anyway, Molly, it's really nice to meet you. I'll see you at your wedding."

Bob wanted to disappear. Betrayed by his own sister. He always did like Rebecca better. But then Molly surprised him by saying, "I'll let you know the color for the bridesmaids dresses."

Rachel smiled at her. And then his dad was taking her on a tour of their house. And then his mom was laughing as Molly told a funny story about a mishap in the emergency room. And then Molly was running around outside with the kids.

"Bob, where did you find her?" his mom asked, grabbing him by the forearm and shaking him.

"At tee ball," he replied softly, watching Molly laughing as Piper sat down on her lap.

"Please, bring her back again. For a longer visit. When I have more time to talk to her."

"I will, mom."

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

Molly was exhausted when she said her goodbyes to Bob's family. The kids had worn her out all afternoon. But when his mom pulled her in for a hug, she felt like crying. She couldn't remember the last time she got a mom hug from anyone other than her own sister. And it felt so good, she ended up hugging her back for probably way longer than was actually appropriate.

"Thanks," Molly whispered. "Thanks for having me."

When his mom pulled away and looked at her, she said, "Bob promised me he'd bring you back again soon. I know he must be very serious about you, so hopefully we won't have to wait too long for another visit."

Molly swallowed past the lump in her throat, and she didn't know what compelled her to say anything as she whispered, "I love your son," like some sort of a lunatic. It must have been all the mom hugs that made her feel weak.

But he mom replied by pulling her in for another hug before Bob took her by the hand and led her out to his truck. It was getting dark, and the ride back to San Diego would get them in late. But Molly already knew she was welcome to crash with Bob for the night. She knew he would want her to.

But she was still surprised when Bob started rambling as he merged onto the highway. "I know it's probably too soon. And maybe I shouldn't even say anything. But I just can't seem to stop thinking about it. About how we never spend the night apart. Even when you work overnight, you end up in my bed in the morning. Or I end up at your place, just waiting for you to get home so we can go to sleep together." He paused, and she reached for his hand. He glanced her way with a nervous smile before he blurted out, "Molly, do you want to move in with me?"

"Oh," she gasped, delighted by the idea of if. In love with the idea of handing him his glasses every morning and knowing he would make her breakfast. Being together to binge watch documentaries and eat sushi. "Yes."

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

Moving in together! So, Bob is a stud. Was he always a stud, or does Molly bring it out in him? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 7

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peachesancreams · 7 months ago

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Expanding on the Wives

everyones favorite asexual serial killer and his cute wifey! this one is marked mature as it is his serial killing days. I will be going into all their deaths on the third part so stay tuned~

Alastors wife

Okay so I said Al doesn’t remember how they first met and he doesn’t mainly because I personally headcanon that he has a lot of trauma in accordance with that time. Mainly at the hands of his father, which more then likely is one of the core manifestations of his future MO for being a serial killer, being that he killed ‘bad people’ and never outright leaned toward killing women. Do I think he did? Yeah someone had to have seen something at one point and Alastor isn’t one for lose ends. (I’m sorry guys you’re gonna see a lot of me info dumping, serial killers psyche and the types are a special interest of mine)

They meet when they were kids, him just running around New Orleans learning the streets and how to use the alleys to make a quick getaway. It had helped him more then on one occasion growing up in that day and age, more so when people knew of his parentage. Not that he was ashamed but rather no one Likes Pain much less children, and unfortunately other children will do as they see their parents do. Rosalind had been reading on the steps on the library when he had ran into her. It wasn’t any kind of meet cute considering they got into a argument about who’s fault it was, kids am I right?

They kiddos had decided that they both were ultimately at fault, him for running when Mama said not to rush and Rose for sitting on the steps where people walk. They’d shook on it and had spent the day talking about some radio stories, Alastor eventually telling her about his dream of being a host himself.

They meet up regularly and talked about the many things kids find important. Until Rosalind’s Pa died and her mother had to move them back up north. The saddest part was it all happened so rapidly, Rosalind hadn’t had time to find Alastor to tell him. Her mother kept Rosalind close to her through out the process of the funeral and the move, having heard of the company her daughters been keeping but also to grieve with her daughter.

Thus she moved away and Alastor slowly forgot the face of his friend. He remembers having a dear childhood friend but figured they, like everyone else heard of his heritage and left him.

Meanwhile up north Rosalind was dreaming of going back to the south. She thanked her lucky stars her fathers family lived down in Louisiana still, she sent letters often down to her cousins asking about life and how is dear New Orleans changing?

When she was 18 Rosalind decided to make the choice to move down south. Her mother had gotten a urgent letter from her aunt raving about how her cousins were living in sin and needed a good girl like Rosalind to guide them. Of course this was only partly the case, their cousins mother had actually passed in the fall and one them impersonated her as to fool Rosalind's mother.

They made this plan as to get Rosalind out from her mothers thumb, wanting her to stay close and up north together. It was not that Rosalind didn't love her mother she just didn't want to be smothered by her anymore.

Now for the second and remembered meeting!!

Once secure in the South her cousins had decided to celebrate! What better way to celebrate gaining independence in the 20's then going to Mimzy's club! Bonus her cousins worked there as showgirls(have to make money somehow...) so they were familiar with the atmosphere.

It had been fun, they drank and danced some. It was only when her cousins had been swept onto the dance floor by two different gentlemen that Rosalind finally felt conflicted. Truth be told she had been having mixed feelings all night, but now alone with the gazing of hungry men feasting on her flesh.

Heading to the bar she ordered herself a drink, trying to call the bartenders attention. It was when a smooth voice called above her head that the bartender finally looked over.

"John my good man! My usual drink for me, and one for the lady as well."

Now at this time Al has been establishing himself in his career for a while, I imagine at this time he had actually just scored his first segment. It was some news on event in town and weather reports, he still has a small way to go till he can report on what he really wants. The Local Crime segments, the man who does it now Tyler put people to sleep the way he drones.

He had come to Mimzy's tonight to stalk his next hunt. His radio career wasn't the only one he had been curating and growing with time. He started his murder career with a truly vile man, his father. No one thought much of the hunting accident, his father was a drunk and many had the opinion it had been bound to happen. Filled eith righteous fury, he went after only villainous people. Muggers, rapists, a fellow murderer, and well an unfortunate witness.

Alastor had been eyeing this particular prey for a while, a rapist who preyed on woman. Alastor had watched his prey pick out his own prey for the evening, watched him circle like a vulture. He took notice of the woman, a soft smile on her face but discomfort colored her brows. It stirred something in him, a flash of his mothers face making his grin feel strained.

Alastor doesn't know why and could only put it to words after when he was in Hell. He interrupted his preys hunt to intercept the woman, buying her a drink. The conversation was stimulating, and having her not fawn over him was a nice change. Despite his small role in the station his popularity grows by the day. What can he say, he has a voice made for radio!

They hit it off from there, him quietly offing his prey another night. No need for vermin like him to linger around. After all Ms. Rosalind frequently met him at Mimzy's so there no reason not to keep the place...tidy so to speak.

Rosalind felt like she was in a fairytale, not only was she able to get a job as a poster painter(lots of prints were handmade back then!) but Alastor, a radio host with a career on the rise, seemed to fancy her.

She didn't realize who Alastor was until they'd gotten married, saw a picture of him and his mom he kept in the back of a bible. She also realized he didn't remember her, it made her a little sad but she remembered the bruises he would show up with and forgave him in her heart.

Speaking of, they were only together for like a month before getting married. And the proposal was at his house! He made dinner and lit candles, and made sure to be his most charming.

Rosalind could only say yes to her dear sweet Al. The thing that had gotten people talking is that she hadn't gone home that night. Alastor was never huge on touch but always seemed to gravitate towards her space. That night they'd cuddled on the couch, exchanging small kisses until they'd fallen asleep.

It’s had started the rumor mill but what made it a full function factory was how the wedding ended up being a month later. So many older ladies comforted her saying ‘first babies are always late’, Alastor had gotten a good laugh out of her flushed face after. She had scolded him but couldn't put any heat behind it, weak as she was to his smile.

They never were physical together, it just wasn't something either of them wanted. They didn't desire each other for the body itself, but for the company and conversation. It was a lovely union, Alastor being attentive to her labors praising her work in the house and garden.

Speaking of her garden, since I see the house being his parents before his own. The garden was originally his mothers. It had fallen into deep disrepair since she had passed, as he had no talent for gardening. With his little wife however it had returned to its old splendor.

Where he didn't have a talent for the green, he did take well to his fathers old hunting lessons. Something he found himself indulging in as a married man. Fresh vegetables and herbs along side some fresh venison, made for a wonderfully fresh meal you couldn't find anywhere else. Who knew all it took was one these hunts for him to disappear from her life forever?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #1920s-1933 alastor #tried to keep it time accurate #dividers by #saradika-graphics #angel wives #hazbin oc #hazbin original character #hazbin hotel oc #alastor x oc

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tojifile · 11 months ago

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@Dazai Osamu . . . ( ﾉ´ヮ`) ﾉ

Tags: ada!dazai, camgirl!reader, mentions of sex, suggestive, pining, cursing

A/N: Since a lot of people liked the first part I’m going to write chapter two. No, they don’t have sex. And Yes, the chapter title is a Taylor Swift reference. No, I am not a swiftie, I am a casual enjoyer. (December Mo: Hi guys, this will be my LAST post with the old style and probably the last time I’ll be doing a long, drawn-out fic. The old title was ‘Whiskey on Ice’ so that explains what I said before.)

Inspo: Mingwa’s BJ Alex. Links: Part 1 , Masterlist

Camgirl’s Crush – 💋

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to a bar with me tonight, since you did say I was such a good boy today.” Dazai whispered seductively in your ear. You felt the heat of his breath on your neck, “O- okay..” you nervously spoke. Dazai had a way of making you feel nervous at times, especially when his moves are sensual.

You’ve experienced teasing and flirting before, but when he whispers in your ear, when he pays attention to your idiosyncrasies, when he takes you out on little dates; only to disguise it as “work lunch” you feel—special.

Dazai was still holding you by the waist as you walked back to the agency to clock out. You told him that the both of you had to do it before going to the bar to which Dazai reluctantly agreed; he just wanted to make you happy. “Osamu-kun, people might make up stories if they see us together like this..”

Like he cared anyways. He chuckled at your worries, “Ah darling! You don’t need to worry about that! Pretty soon, those rumors would be true anyways, yeah?” Without thinking, you immediately respond, “yeah!”

You then realized what you just said. Your face turned red and you looked away from Dazai. “I- ‘m.. sorry.” You nervously mumbled. Dazai found your actions adorable! You were just so cute, he wanted to keep you all to himself.

Once you got to the agency, Dazai hurriedly clocked the both of you out while you waited for him downstairs. While he was upstairs, you thought of your moments with Dazai, you wanted him so bad. You’d fantasize about him during your streams and sometimes—at work. You were definitely not proud of that.

“Darling!” Dazai’s words snapped you back into reality. He ran to you then scooped you up into his arms, carrying you roughly to the bar. “Osamu!! Put me down!” You huffed.

But he didn’t, and you were happy. He almost makes you want to quit streaming. You just want to be his and you hope he wants to be yours. You just held onto him tightly, silently hoping he liked you back.

Dazai smiled softly as you held onto him tightly. He liked you like this, sweet and vulnerable. If there was one thing on his mind, it’d be if there was someone else or not, if you heard of him—IU, and if you could hear the love in him, waiting to burst.

His touchiness with you didn’t stop when you got to the bar. Not that you expected it to, but it was quite the opposite. He placed you on top of him, with your back to his chest as his bandaged arms encircled your waist.

He bought you drinks, obviously, he wanted you drunk. Dazai wanted to take advantage of his cute little coworker who may or may not be his favorite cam girl, not that he watches any other.

“Darling..” he whispered in a deep, sultry voice. “Wanna go home to my place? I’ll take care of you, I promise.” You only nodded in response. You knew you shouldn’t, you knew this couldn’t be. But you were only human, a slave to your urges. And right now, what you want is Dazai Osamu.

He gently laid you on his bed once you got to his apartment. Can you believe he carried you all the way there? It was his fault anyways, he got you so drunk!

“So cute..” he whispered underneath his breath. “‘Samu..” you called out softly. You then put your arms up, opening and closing your fists, wanting him to give you a hug. God! If you were sober this would’ve been embarrassing, acting like a fucking baby?!

“Hold me!!” You whined, to which Dazai chuckled. But he still happily complied. Taking off your shoes and sitting beside you on his bed, pulling you closer to his body. “Such a cute girl..” he whispered as he gave you a kiss on the cheek.

As the clock struck 10PM he saw that there was no new livestream, but there was an announcement. But he knew you had typed this out when you were waiting for him downstairs as he clocked the both of you out. Such a sneaky girl.

There was no going back now that Dazai knew that his adorable, seemingly innocent coworker was a cam girl.

@toxicramune @oh-my-beel @nymphsdomain @morinuu – Comment 🪩 to be on my taglist !

++ @yasu-masashige @ninin8nin (who asked for pt.2)

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #dazai x reader #osamu x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #tojifile

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anne-bsd-bibliophile · 25 days ago

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The Halloween boop made me think of ghost Chu Wanning hitting Mo Ran. Chu Wanning, with his cat-like temperament, would definitely dish out the most impressive boops!

Especially in this scene from chapters 113-114:

Before Mo Ran could react, Chu Wanning had jerked his hand away and struck him across the face with a backhanded slap. “You idiot!” He scowled furiously. “How did you die too?! ... Get the hell out.” Chu Wanning turned his face away, a thousand layers of heartbreak hidden under that veneer of brittle coldness. “You’ve got some nerve, coming to see me after dying so young.”

“Shizun…”

“Out.” Chu Wanning’s face turned away even further. “You’re no disciple of mine. I don’t take anyone so useless as to end up dead in his prime.”

Dead in his prime…

Mo Ran had originally been dejected, but after being reprimanded so seriously like this, he felt warmth flood his heart like trickling spring water. He raised a hand and clapped his palm to his forehead before dragging it down to cover his eyes. Then, unable to help himself, he began to laugh, bitter and sweet and sour all mixed together.

The light sound of his laughter made Chu Wanning angrier still. He whipped his head around to chide, “What’re you laughing about, you—” In a fit of rage, he drew his arm back slap Mo Ran again, but Mo Ran swiftly caught his hand.

The young man’s gentle eyes blinked, slow. Without a word, he solemnly brought Chu Wanning’s hand to press against his own chest.

Thump, thump, thump. A slow, steady heartbeat. Chu Wanning blinked. Surprise, joy, awkwardness, and embarrassment all flitted through his eyes in the space of an instant. But this was the Yuheng Elder after all: calm and cool as ever, singularly adept at schooling his features into unruffled composure, sweeping those extraneous emotions under the rug in a trice as if the one who’d admonished Mo Ran in despair just now had been someone else entirely.

“What’re you doing down here if you’re not dead?” Chu Wanning regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth. It was obvious that Mo Ran had come to save him. But Chu Wanning was afraid that, if Mo Ran really were to say that, his heart might beat right out of his chest. He was so nervous he completely forgot he was already dead and had no heart to speak of.

But Mo Ran gazed at him without saying any such thing. He likely knew Chu Wanning would be embarrassed if he were to say, I came here for you. Mo Ran thought a bit, then pressed his lips together and lowered his lashes. “Shizun,” he asked gently, “can you guess why I’m here?”

A long pause. “You came looking for trouble.”

“Since when did Shizun change his name to ‘Trouble’?” Mo Ran grinned. “Should’ve told me.”

Chu Wanning jerked his hand back, as if stung by this new gentleness. He snapped in flustered anger, “What nonsense! How impudent.”

#chu wanning #mo ran #ranwan #2ha #erha #the husky and his white cat shizun #manhua images #tumblr boops #halloween 2024 #it's been so long since I made a gif I'd forgotten how

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satureja13 · 2 months ago

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Now that Rubyn had all the parts together, The Boys couldn't wait to finally track down Tiny Can. So they got up at the crack of dawn and teleported back to the mundane world. To Rubyn's place: Mos Verdantis. And even though Ms Coombes said it should be safe to return, they made sure to land the TukTuk in the centre of the settlement and not at the entrance, where they could easily be spotted by the Council's myrmidons.

It was a warm welcome. Rubyn had accompanied the Boys during their adventures in Selvadorada almost a year ago (where they found Tiny Can...) and they are happy to be united again. The Boys also had been here before, when they celebrated the 40 year anniversary of 'Return of the Jedi' last year. When Jack returned from his coma. But Vlad and Jack are stunned over again by the Millennium Falcon and couldn't take their eyes off her.

Since they don't know how long it would take them to construct a device to find a trace from Tiny Can, Rubyn suggested they should stay overnight. Jack and Vlad are thrilled! This place is like paradise for them ^^' And then Jack spotted the tents Rubyn set up for them.

He ran over, Vlad in his wake. Jack: "Omg Vlad! We are going to sleep under the wings of the Millennium Falcon! I... I think I'm gonna faint." Even though the strain from teleporting the TukTuk full of his friends to the muggle world took it's toll on Vlad, he laughed at Jack's antics. And even though Ji Ho feels even more exhausted than Vlad, he smiled too. Nothing is more beautiful to him than Vlad laughing.

Sai is eager to finally get a grip on Tiny Can and wire that money back: "We should start right away. Vlad, take Ji Ho to your tent and rest. The others help unpacking and setting everything up." Vlad and Ji Ho don't have to let Sai know how drained they are. He can tell by just looking at them how awful they feel.

Reluctantly they entered their tent. Ji Ho thought maybe it's just him who suffers each time more after teleporting. Now he has his feelings back, everything is so much more intense. But the Bond told him Vlad is in the same wrecked contition. Ji Ho: "It gets worse." Vlad: "I will talk to Sai. We shouldn't teleport for a while and look if we can find a safe place here in the muggle world." Ji Ho: "Maybe because we didn't rest after the Council attacked us?" Vlad: "Maybe... We also went over our boundaries when we returned back home and searched for Tiny Can instead of resting. Let's sleep for a while. I.. uhm I will take care of you later, I need to recover first." Usually they have to have intense physical contact to recover. Ji Ho: "Eh. Don't worry. It's enough to be near you. It already gets better. We recover faster - but it gets more and more strenous - and demanding... I'm afraid the next time it will knock me out." Vlad is frantic. Again, Ji Ho has to suffer for the sake of their matters. Ji Ho felt Vlad's inner turmoil through their Bond. Ji Ho: "Vlad. Let's sleep for a while." And Vlad tried to relax, for Ji Ho's sake. (That was the longest conversation Ji Ho and Vlad ever had! They barely talk to each other. It's embarrassing since they know how the other feels through their Bond. So they usually keep their distance to each other.)

The others are busy setting up the devices. Sai tried to concentrate but he was worried. And he blames himself. He's putting his friends in jeopardy to find this damn piece of junk -who only was able to cause trouble because he allowed it! He cursed under his breath and redoubled his efforts. On the other hand, if they ended up in prison for stealing that money (wherever it might have come from) they wouldn't have to worry about teleporting anymore... or all the other stuff that hits them all the time.

Hours later, Jeb lit up the grill. Time to take a break, even if Sai would complain and urge them to keep going... It was a bit weird to barbecue on a discarded Astromech, though... Jeb sighed. He has the feeling he was going to need to show his bossy side again to stop Sai from overworking them. And then Sai would find that arousing - again -and that would lead them sooner or later to physical intimacy - again - and then Sai would want him to woohoo him but he can't do that because he doesn't want to hurt Sai... (Omg Jeb!)

They woke up Ji Ho and Vlad for dinner and it was good to see they felt a bit better. Jack came over, the tome from the Grim Reaper in his hands. Rubyn was curious and Jack explained. Jack: "The Grim Reaper approached us. He needs our help. I think it might be good to put in some effort to have him on our side, you know." Rubyn agreed. She had been with them at the temple when they received the distressing message from Future Jeb ö.Ö' Telling them to stay together - or something bad would happn...

After Jack saw how awful Vlad and Ji Ho felt, he was more determined than ever to continue his errands for the Grim Reaper to appease him. He didn't even touch his food...

'Life goin' nowhere, somebody help me Somebody help me, yeah Life goin' nowhere, somebody help me, yeah I'm stayin' alive'

Stayin' Alive - The Bee Gees

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-28

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profound-imagination · 2 years ago

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Rose Gardens - Part 3 - Eris Vanserra

A/N: Here's part 3! I hope you enjoy! A massive shout-out to @swansworth for helping me plan this fic! ❤️

T/W: Mention of injury and blood - it gets angsty besties.

Part 1 & Part 2

W/C: 3.9K

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"YOU'VE BEEN WHAT?!" Okay, so maybe asking Cassian for help wasn't your best idea. "Be quiet!!" You hissed at him as you shoved him further into his bedroom and closed the door. "You've been writing to Eris Vanserra and you want my help to sneak you into Autumn so you can go to some festival with him? Have I got that right?" He hissed back, pulling the bun out of his hair and running a frustrated hand through it. "To sneak me to the border, not into Autumn" You corrected him sheepishly as he spun to face you. "Don't get smart." He snapped. You sighed. "Please Cassian?" Some of the rage ebbed from his eyes. "Why? Why Eris Vanserra?" You shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed. "I…I don't know, Cass." He continued to pace the room. "Rhys and Az would kill me!" You snorted. "No they won't. Not if you don't tell them! Besides, Rhys won't even notice I'm gone." He joined you and sat on his bed. "They'll kill Eris though, if they find out." You shook your head. "They won't know I'm gone! Az is too busy scouting for Hybern and Rhys is too busy with his child bride." A warning rumbled from Cassian's chest. "Feyre is not a child. She's our High Lady and you will show her the same respect you show Rhys." You held your hands up. "Please Cass, I want to live before I die in this war that's been started over Feyre." He sighed and ran his hands down his face.

"Fine." Your face lit up but he carried on before you could get ahead of yourself. "But I have conditions." You nodded. "Name them." So he did. "Eris is to guarantee your safety, from himself, from his father and brothers and whatever other dangers lurk in the Autumn Court, you are to be returned to where I drop you off by midnight, where I will wait for you and he will do it in the form of a bargain with me." You raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like a bargain." He gave you a wolfish grin. "In exchange, I won't kill him. When Mor eventually grants Azriel and I revenge, I won't take it." You shoved his shoulder. "Those are my terms. He accepts them and makes the deal or when you inevitably sneak out on your own, I'll go straight to Rhys." You glared at him and he shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

You wrote back to Eris that evening and told him of Cassian's terms. His reply came almost immediately.

Dear Y/N,

He's smarter than I gave him credit for.

Tell him I accept his terms.

Tell me, which of the dresses did you choose and was the mask to your liking? I ask so I can dress accordingly.

Yours,

Eris.

You hadn't opened the box yet. The contents still a mystery. But Cassian had agreed. He was going to help you and you were going to see Eris again. So you finally opened the box.

Lying inside were three dresses and a mask all carefully wrapped in tissue paper. The smell of burnt sugar, cinnamon & fire wood invaded your nostrils, a smell that was so unmistakably Eris that you knew he'd wrapped them himself. You carefully unwrapped the first dress. A beautiful velvet gown of forest green. Gold thread decorated the neckline and the skirt in swirling patterns. The second was a deep red gown of silk and gossamer. There were no patterns decorating the gown but it was beautiful, timeless. The third was more practical, a cream wool dress with a roll neck and long sleeves. You couldn't help but think how nice it would look with the new boots you brought from the rainbow. Brown, knee high, leather. Comfortable, cute and practical.

The mask, the mask was something else entirely. A bronze coloured metal twisted into a beautiful deer. The antlers formed of twisted maple leaves. A deer you mused. Unassuming. You'd assumed he would've gone for a fox but it seemed he had his ways of taking you by surprise. You hurriedly wrote your response to Eris.

The full moon came quicker than you thought. You'd spent the morning training with Cassian and Azriel. The former kept shooting glances at you that you ignored. The latter still wasn't overly keen on speaking to you after your disagreement in Dawn. When they'd finally relented in your training in favor of Feyre you slunk back to your bedroom, where a note was waiting for you.

My Dearest Y/N,

I simply cannot explain how much I am looking forward to seeing you this evening. I have been counting down the days since you accepted my invitation.

I'll see you at sundown petal.

Yours,

Eris.

You grinned down at the letter and the rose petals that fell out of it when you opened it.

Sighing in contentment as you sunk down into the hot water of your bath, the aches in your muscles ebbing. You picked carefully through the selections of soaps and shampoos on the side of the bath, picking out your favorites to use. Soaking in the hot water, you allowed your mind to wonder what tonight would hold.

By the time Cassian knocked on your door that afternoon you were grinning at your reflection in the mirror. "You look beautiful, Y/N." He smiled down at you and you back up at him. You'd chosen the wool dress and knee high boots. Your hair cascaded down your back in gentle curls. A soft pink blush had been added to your cheeks along with a nude lipstick. You hadn't bothered with eyeshadow or khol due to the mask you'd be wearing. "Are you really sure about this?" Cassian questioned, he knew the answer from the smile on your face. "Yes Cass, I'm sure." He nodded once. "Let's go then, everyone else is down at the town house."

Cassian landed on the border a short time later. A fire had been set up, along with a basket of wine, cheese, bread and dried meats. You grinned up at him. "Looks like you've got an admirer." You teased the general. "I wouldn't go that far." A voice purred from behind you. Cassian tensed as your face split into an ear to ear grin. "Eris." You breathed as you turned around to face him. You suddenly understood why he'd asked which dress you'd chosen. There he was in a cream wool jumper that matched your dress and a pair of dark trousers. Hunting boots on his feet as was Eris' usual style. His red hair hung unbound as it was the last time you saw him and his mask was also of a deer. His antlers were bigger and you made note to make a joke about it later when Cassian wasn't around to hear it.

"Vanserra." Was Cassian's only greeting to the Lordling. "Cassian." Eris greeted him back. "Thank you for doing this Lord of Bloodshed." Cassian crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not happy about it." He huffed. "You know my terms? She's to be back here by midnight. She's to be back here at the first sign of danger. You are to guarantee her safety from yourself, your brothers and your father and whatever other dangers lurk in this court. In exchange, when Mor gives Azriel and I permission to make you pay for what you did to her, I won't harm you. You'll die, but not by my hand." Eris nodded once. "I accept your terms." Cassian held his hand out to Eris who took it in his own and shook.

Cassian turned you to face him. "Have fun. Be safe. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you come running straight back here." You rolled your eyes at him. "Yes dad." Cassian's lips didn't so much as twitch at your joke. "I'll be okay, Cass. You trained me, remember?" He nodded and looked at Eris over your head. "You remember that too. I trained her." You stood on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on Cassian's cheek. "Thank you for this. I know you hate it." He met your eyes and whatever he saw there must've given him some comfort that you'd be okay. "Go." Was all he said as he pushed you gently towards Eris' waiting hand.

Eris had pulled you to him and winnowed you a short distance away from Cassian. If winnowing with Rhys was darkness incarnate, then winnowing with Eris was like walking through the fires of hell itself. Not one flame touched you, the sensation was warm and comforting. "You look resplendent." Eris told you when you found your feet and you grinned at him. "Thank you, for the dresses and the mask. I'll return the other gowns." He shook his head. "The gowns are yours to keep, petal." You took his hand in yours. "I'll wear them to Starfall and to Court meetings, see if I can make that vein in Rhys' forehead pop." He laughed, his genuine laugh. "I've been trying to do that for centuries!"

The Lordling led you into a clearing decorated with tents, little balls of Fae light hung in the trees giving a soft glow. A huge bonfire was placed in the middle of the clearing. Fae were throwing pieces of glowing parchment into the bonfire and watching them burn into embers before they floated to the skies. Others were dancing around it. "What are they doing?" You breathed. "Wishes." Was all Eris said.

The tents around the clearing were filled with an assortment of things, spiced cider, hot chocolates, roasted meats, bread, toffee apples. "Do you like it?" Eris spoke softly into your ear. "It's amazing." He gripped your hand a bit tighter. "Would you like a drink, my lady?" You snorted at him. "Stop calling me that!" He smirked. "Never! Now a drink?" You rolled your eyes. "The spiced cider smells incredible." He pulled you towards the tent. "It is, it's my favourite." Eris handed you a cup of the warm spiced cider.

Eris proceeded to pull you around the festival, making sure you'd tried everything on offer, never once did he let go of your hand. When the two of you stood to watch performances or in queues for treats he stood behind you, his front pressed to your back, his arms wrapped around your middle. You were ever thankful for the mask you wore and that it covered the blush that was constantly on your cheeks. The two of you had taken a seat under a big oak tree, drinking hot chocolates and eating the caramels you'd begged him to get from a stall run by some of the children of the court. Your feet sore from dancing with Eris for what felt like hours. Every nerve ending in your body was on fire from how close he'd been, how your body fitted against his like it was made to do so. Your cheeks flamed again at the thought.

You were giggling at some witty comment he'd made, curled into his side, his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer when a shadow fell over the two of you, blocking out the Fae lights. "Hello brother." The voice purred. One of his brothers. "Fathers been looking for you, The Hunt starts soon." Eris tensed, his spine straightening as he leveled his brother with a gaze. "I'm busy, Hawk." Hawk scoffed. "You and I both know you don't refuse Father. But it seems you've already found your chosen maiden for the night." He said with a vicious purr, one that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You felt sick as Eris' brother roved his eyes up and down your body like you were some kind of prey. "That is, if you get to her first, brother." Hawk smirked at his older brother, desperately trying to get some kind of rise out of him. "I said, I'm busy, Hawk." Eris' tone had changed, he was back to the cocky, arrogant Lord that the rest of the world knew and feared. His brother held his hands up. "I'm going, I'm going, I'll see you real soon darlin'." He winked at you as he turned and left.

Eris said nothing as he watched his brother disappear into the crowd. He didn't move as he took in his surroundings looking for any other members of his family. "Stupid, stupid." He was muttering to himself. You reached out and touched his shoulder. "Eris?" He flinched slightly at your touch. "You need to go." Was all he said. "What? Why? We have until midnight!" You protested. Eris stood and pulled you up with him. "It's not safe for you here, I never should've brought you here." He breathed as he started pulling you through the trees, back towards Cassian.

You pulled your hand out of his grip just before you reached where Cassian was waiting and stopped. He spun to face you, pulling the mask off of his face as he did so. "Y/N, please!" You took your own mask off. "Not until you tell me what's got you so spooked." You said calmly as you crossed your arms. "And while you're at it you can tell me what The Hunt is." You added. Eris ran a hand through his hair and you tracked the movement. "The Hunt is a ritual that's part of the Festival, the females run and the males hunt them. Once caught they claim each other. It's how we give the magic back, as the heir I'm always expected to start The Hunt but I wasn't going to this year, I was going to show you other parts of the court while it happened, have you far away from it. But then Hawk saw you with me and it all became so much more complicated." You tried, you really did try to stop the laugh that was bubbling in your chest but it escaped anyway. You clasped your hands on your knees as you continued to laugh. "You…you invited me to some kind of magical orgy?" You gasped out. "It's not funny, Y/N! It's not safe for you here, not now Hawk has seen you!" You calmed yourself and straightened. He was reaching for your hand again to keep you moving through the woods but you ignored it. You walked right into him and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. A move that took him by surprise. "You stupid, overprotective male." You giggled your mouth brushing his again as you spoke. He seemed to fight with himself for half a second before his right arm wrapped around your waist, the left curling into your hair as he slammed his lips onto yours. "Have to keep you safe." He murmured between kisses. You separated and you were sure your face was the colour of his hair. "Now please let me take you back to Cassian." You nodded and took his hand.

Something was off with Cassian, you could see it in his body language when you approached him. Before you could open your mouth to ask him what was wrong, shadows shot towards Eris, wrapping around his neck, his wrists, his middle and they slammed him to the floor and Az was on him. "Azriel!" You gasped as Eris' hand was ripped from yours. "Get off him!" You took a step towards the males before a hand caught your wrist and you were enveloped in darkness. When the light returned you were in Cassian's arms. Rhys was leaning against a tree, Azriel was delivering punch after punch to Eris. "What do we have here then?" Rhys purred. He nodded at Az who pulled Eris to his feet, one of his arms wrapped around his neck, the other holding Truth Teller to his ribs, positioned to be a straight shot to Eris' heart.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him, Y/N?" Rhys asked, pushing himself off of the tree. "Then you get Cassian to lie for you and sneak you here?" You didn't answer him, trying hard to fight the tears in your eyes. Rhys nodded at Azriel again and Eris hissed as Truth Teller pushed into his ribs, puncturing the skin. You tried to force down the bile that rose in your throat at the smell of his blood. "Is this to get back at me? For choosing Feyre?" Eris' eyes widened. "What?" He choked out. "Oh yes." Rhys purred. "Has she not told you everything?" He pointed his question at Eris. "Rhys, don't!" You fought against Cassian's grip on you. "She's not what she seems, Eris. You weren't her first choice of High Lord." Rhys continued. "Did she tell you she's a witch?" Eris flinched at the word. Witches weren't something that was openly accepted in Prythian. "She loved me long before she met you, because of the power I have, it makes hers stronger. Just like yours would." Something like betrayal flashed through Eris' eyes and his face gave away everything he was feeling, Rhys had crushed him. You had crushed him. Rhys nodded again and Azriel twisted Truth Teller in his side. "Please!" You sobbed. "You're being used, Eris." Rhys continued. "You've also been working beyond what we've negotiated." Rhys purred at him, a talon scraping down Eris' face, splitting the skin as it went. "That's not something I can let go."

"I'll never see him again!" You thrashed against Cassian. Eris was a mess of cuts, bruises and blood. "Rhys please don't kill him! I'll never see him again, I swear it!" Rhys ignored you. "Azzie, please." Azriel faltered at his childhood nickname, the broken tone of your voice. Rhys turned then and looked at you. "You swear it? Never again?" You nodded. "Never." Rhys hummed. "I will kill him, Y/N." You pushed against Cassian again, he let you go this time and you fell to your knees in front of Rhys. "I swear it, Rhys."

Rhys looked over his shoulder at Azriel and nodded. Azriel let Eris go and he slumped to the ground in front of you. His eyes looked broken, betrayed. You reached a glowing palm towards him and he flinched. "Don't.Touch.Me.Witch" He gritted out. You in turn flinched at his tone, so full of venom and hatred. You felt your heart crack and fizzle into nothing. You hadn't even realised until that moment that you'd been giving pieces of it to Eris Vanserra. Rhys placed his hand on your shoulder and winnowed.

You were on your knees in the dining room in the House of Wind. Feyre and Mor were looking down at you with disdain as you sobbed. Rhys poured himself a drink as Azriel and Cassian walked through the balcony door. "You've ruined everything!" You sobbed. It was Nesta who wrapped her arms around you as you cried. "Come now girl, let's have some tea. It won't seem so bad in the morning." Amren ordered as Nesta pulled you to your feet. You didn't so much look at the others as you followed them out of the room.

Amren had been wrong. It seemed worse in the morning. You didn't go to training. You didn't leave your room or your bed. Crying to yourself, still in the dress you'd worn last night. It still faintly smelt like Eris which cracked your heart even more. You'd written to him, or you'd tried too. The paper never leaving your palm when you thought of him like it used to.

The following week was much the same. Cassian tried to speak to you everyday, to explain. Rhys had began screaming in his head and eventually he had no choice but to tell him where you both were. Azriel had arrived first and it had taken all Cassian had to stop the Shadowsinger from marching straight into Autumn to get you back. Nesta had walked straight into your room on the third day and run you bath. Once she'd coaxed you into it she washed your hair and brushed it out. You'd lost it again when you returned to your room with her and the dress was gone, along with the other two. Power had exploded out of you in a darkness that could've envied Rhysand's. "You tricked me!" You sobbed at Nesta. "Y/N, I didn't! I'll get you the dresses back!" Feyre had burst in then, Rhys on her heels and ordered her sister out and told her not to come back. She leveled you with a glare as she followed Nesta out the room. Rhys stayed.

"Are you really doing this to yourself, Y/N?" He asked, arms crossed. You didn't answer him, nor did you meet his eyes. "You haven't left your room in three days, you haven't eaten or slept. You haven't talked to anyone. Not even Azriel." You scoffed at him. "Are you really going to destroy yourself over this?" Your head snapped up to him. "Don't worry, Rhysand. I'll still fight in your war over Feyre." He bristled at your comment. "You're one to talk about destroying yourself though aren't you? A bit hypocritical. You're many things, Rhysand, but not a hypocrite." He uncrossed his arms. "I'm Rhysand now?" "You're lucky I'm speaking to you at all!" You snapped back. "You want to fight Y/N? Do you want to scream and shout at me? Throw your powers at me? Will that make you feel better?" You let out a humourless laugh. "You aren't worth my time anymore, Rhysand." Darkness crept into the edges of the room. "Even so, I am still your High Lord and you will respect me as such or you can find somewhere else to live." He growled in his most commanding voice. You glared at him as a shadow wound its way around your ankle. Keeping you planted where you were. "Fine. Done. I'll be gone by dinner." Rhys' face blanched for half a second before the uncaring face of the High Lord returned. "I'll see you on the battlefield then, Y/N. Find somewhere else to live but you swore and Autumn won't take you now. I'm sure your undelivered notes told you that." The shadow on your ankle tightened. "Get.Out." You gritted out through your teeth. Rhys turned on his heel and left.

To your surprise it wasn't Azriel that entered your room next. It was Mor. "Why?" Was all she asked quietly. "He makes me feel seen." Was your quiet reply. She hummed. "I know what he did to you, Mor. What you've told me. If I could change it, I would. If I could make it better I would." She wiped a tear off of your face with her thumb. "I can't get him out of my head, my soul. I should hate him for what he did to you but I can't." She held you as you cried. "I've lost everyone, including him." She ran a hand through your hair. "I'm sure you haven't." She tried to comfort you. "Rhys told him I was a witch, that I was using him for his power. Azriel hates me-." She cut you off. "Azriel does not hate you! Azriel hasn't come to see you because he thinks you hate him. For what he did to Eris." You sniffled and then admitted what you hadn't even admitted to yourself. "I felt it, Mor, everything they did to him, I felt it."

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar

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sukipershipper · 3 months ago

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Your Darling Irish Rose - SWTD Oneshot

(TW: lots of swearing and something sliiightly naughty but nothing too much lol, have fun!) -----

Cillian…Seems like it’s been so long since I last held you.

I keep looking out the window, expecting you to be coming home, just like you always do. But each day leaves me feeling more disappointed than the last.

I know you’re working hard though.

I know you’re doing your best and that’s what I know is important.

I just wish I could be back there with you.

But…you know better than any that fate is a cruel mistressIf she weren’t, we wouldn’t be apart

I really hope the rig allows you home for Christmas…I miss you more and more each day…I’ll be waiting every day for you…waiting until I can hold you in my arms again and hear your beautiful voice, mo ghrá…

Please don’t forget to write…love…your darling Mary

P.S you better have shaved your face when you get back mister, I know you love your stubble but it looks horrid on you <3

The little scribbled heart at the bottom of the page made his heart flutter. He rolled his eyes as he let out a low laugh, his lips barely touching as he read the paper once more. This would’ve been the 10th time he had read it. The letter itself was sent a month ago but it was the last letter he got from Mary. He loved reading her latest tellings of the day, so he felt saddened that he hadn’t gotten a letter from her recently. But he held onto hope that she was just busy and had forgotten. The two had always been busy bodies. From the small coffee shop they ran together in the streets of Dublin, which she now ran with her sisters, to the work they did together on the Beira. Mary was a very beloved face on the rig. She was one of the few doctors on board. Though her profession was hindered slightly due to poor equipment provided by Cadal, she still managed to do it with relative ease.

She had many good friends onboard, minus Addair. Hell, even Rennick liked her, thought she was the sweetest thing to roam the earth. And, of course, O’Connor adored her so. The nights they weren’t busy he’d take her into his arms and they’d waltz under the stars to a tune playing in the crew lounge, only barely audible through the walls but a beautiful melody that would envelope them both as they swayed together.

He longed for her touch as much as she did for his.

Yet, like she had stated, fate was cruel and had separated them. Come the start of the year, Mary found it harder for her to continue her work, and had asked to go back to the mainland until further notice. Rennick, of course, was understanding for her. But with him it was another story. He had barely been allowed to utter the first sentence before being told “Fuck off, ye have a job tae do here, get on it!”

To say that fucked him right off would be an understatement. Mary was quick to reason with him that he is the head of the Pontoon team and no-one could run around down there with such ease as he could. Didn’t ease the separation by much but her promise of letters back and forth helped settle his mind for the time being.

That was back in January. It was now August and he still waited until her next letter or at least a call from Rennick who she had promised updates for every fortnight. Still, nothing.

Ah well, she was probably just tired was all. He sat himself up and made his way to the canteen, brushing past a damp spot of the floor that made him roll his eyes, turning his gaze upwards to where a small leak had begun to drip in his room. “Swear, Rennick better fix tha’ shite…” he grumbled, chucking on a warm jumper for the morning before making his way to fix himself some breakfast. He passed a few friends and workmates along the way, eventually stopping at Finlay who was hopping down from fixing the lights above. “Mornin’ Lass!” he quipped, resulting in a light kick and an indignant smirk on her face. “Ye better watch yer mouth! Callin’ me lass, bloody hell…” she chuckled, giving him a shove. “What wuid Mary say, hm?”

“Oh, pipe down, she’d be ‘avin’ a gaff too!” he chortled. Finlay rolled her eyes with an exaggerated groan as she accompanied O’Connor down the hallway. “Thought ye had fixed tha’ part already?” O’Connor asked, gesturing to the light fixture behind them. Finlay huffed, “Ah did! But Ah swear, is like one thing breaks after the other!” she exclaimed, “Ah tell ye, Cilly,” she spoke - using the nickname Mary often used for him, making him smile slightly. “This rig…is a fuckin’ pile of shite it is…Rennick needs tae put calls through tae get this fixed o’herwise we ain’t gonnae get tae drillin’ at all…Ah mean, look at yer room!” “Ach, I know…” O’Connor grumbled again, “...Swear, it’s like as soon as Mary left this shit started happening…” the thought made him chuckle, “Heh, i-is like she was the ray of sunshine keepin’ this rig together!” he laughed, getting a brief chuckle out of Finlay, “Team effort then, she does all the hopin’ and wishin’ I do the maintenance, hah!” she joked, sending both into a fit of laughter as they descended the stairs.

As they entered the hallway that led to the canteen, the echos of their workmates rang out loudly, followed by the sound of crashing cutlery and their cook, Roy, yelling at one of the crew, followed by a chorus of laughter as they made their way through the door and into the canteen.

“MUIR! FOR FUCK SAKES, STOP IT!” Roy yelled, watching as one of the deckhands, a rugged figure with an oddly slim face, danced around on the tables, being egged on by his friends.

O’Connor laughed at the sight of Muir, laughing even more at Innes who seemed to be egging him on the least but still thoroughly enjoyed the sight (though to O’Connor, Innes also seemed to be enjoying the view from where he stood, Muir’s body turned to face away from him left ample opportunity for Innes to stare at the lads ass) and at their newest cod, Caz who was dancing with Muir, albeit on the ground. He loved the vibrant camaraderie of the crew here, and the way that everyone seemed to laugh and smile along with any of the hijinks that one group may get up to. It helped to lighten the load and lessen the burden he felt of being alone without his beloved, although it didn’t help the twinge of sadness he felt not seeing her in the fray, dancing and jumping along with the rest.

The man had very little time to ponder it as a loud banging of a ladle from Finlay got them all to settle down as her voice boomed “A’RICHT YA LOT! SIT DOWN AND FILL YER GOBS! NO MORE PRANCIN’ AROUND, C’MON, C’MON!” O’Connor laughed heartily, his respect for Finlay shooting through the roof as he sat down at a table with Caz, Innes, Muir and his two other close mates, Trots, and his best mate from before he even worked on the rig, Gibbo. The two had met when O’Connor took on a chance fishing job on a small boat off the coast of Scotland nearly 10 years ago. It was a good chance for O’Connor to get used to the water's motions and make a good connection to help work on the rig when it was ready to be placed. Granted he wait for that was a whole 8 years after the fact but it worked for him.

“Took ye long enough!” Innes joked, getting a laugh out of O’Connor once again. “What kept ye?” “Probably gawking at that letter from Mary, hm?” Caz asked. O’Connor nodded, “Just reading her words in her voice makes all the pain and worries of the day just go- WOOSH!” he exclaimed, his hands flying out beside him to punctuate his words.

“Ye get any new letters from her yet, lad?” Muir asked. O’Connor sighed, “Nae,” he explained, “But hey, there’s always tomorrow…” he spoke, though his voice was a bit uncertain.

As he sat down, Gibbo slid him a plate he had made for him earlier, hashbrowns, toast, eggs and some delicious strands of maple bacon, before he could even put the fork in his mouth, Trots instantly began yammering on. “The state of this crew, someone needs tae keep ‘em in check!” he began, earning an instant groan from Gibbo. “Christ, not again-” “From the rags on the floor to the parties, ye’d think we were in the states! No care, no rules, no order! Just a big ole, messy pile of fucken’ shi-” “WE GET IT, TROTS,” Gibbo groaned, “Chill out, Cillian’s just sat down! H-He doesnae wanna hear yer nonsense!...Right?” the other man asked, turning his gaze to O’Connor, who sat peacefully eating. He took notice of Gibbo’s expression, one that pleaded with him not to let this go on. O’Connor gave a coy smile, however, “Oh, well, actually…” he began, resulting in wide, horrified eyes from the stocky man beside him.

O’Connor leaned in close to the Union Rep, “I remember you telling me about a bit of mould in one of the rooms that ne’er got addressed, but I forgot what it was ye saw! Care tae tell me?” “Well, as a matter of fact-” Trots began, his sentences turning into a flurry of rambles as O’Connor sat contently, eating his grub and listening to Trots, all while Gibbo shot him a look of ‘Fuck you’.

The Irishman simply sat and finished off his plate while Trots yabbed on. The minutes ticked by as he ate, and still, all he could think about was his Mary. He ate absentmindedly, clearing his plate just before Trots finished his rambles. He looked at the clock on the wall and moved to stand. “Well, thanks fer the story, Trots my boy!” he spoke, “I’m sure Gibbo here would be more than happy to listen to ye now-” “Prick” Gibbo muttered through gritted teeth. “But, I best be off,” he continued, about to grab his plate, “Ye know how it is, Rennick needs me in-” *BZZT*

‘O’CONNOR! MY OFFICE! NOW! NO DAWDLING, MOVE IT!’

*CLICK*

The whole canteen went silent, eyes turned to O’Connor who simply blinked in shock at the mention of his name. It was very rare that O’Connor ever got called up to Rennick’s office, so either he was needed for a new task or he royally fucked up something. Either way, he set his plate back down and sighed through clenched teeth, looking back towards the table as he mouthed ‘Wish me luck’ to them. After a few minutes of darting across the deck and up to the crew lift where he could reach administration, he knocked on the titular door that opened to the office of Davey Rennick. He took a deep breath and pushed it open, forcing a smile. “Mornin’ Sir,” he began, aiming to continue until he saw… “‘Ello, Cilly” Addair spoke lowly, though oddly, not in his usual vicious tone as he leaned against one of the filing cabinets. O’Connor felt his eyes narrow and how fists clench as he stared daggers into the British fuck beside Rennick. “What’s ‘e doin’ ‘ere?” O’Connor snarled, his accent noticeably thicker.

“He’s here tae help me, that’s why,” Rennick replied shortly. It wasn’t an unknown fact that O’Connor despised Addair with a burning passion. The two had always butted heads and competed to see who could a job better or win at pool. Rennick was very aware of this, often having to scold the two from on the deck just beside his office if he ever saw them in a fight. He knew this was a very risky meeting but for a reason beyond Rennick’s comprehension, Addair had insisted on sitting in on this. So he allowed to go on, but he could see it would require a lot of standing in between the two men as Addair instantly puffed out his chest, standing up off of the filing cabinet and making his way around to meet O’Connor, who instantly straightened up and did the same thing back.

“Fuck are ye here for, eh?” O’Connor growled, “Ye ‘ere te watch me get tha’ boot, huh? Oh, I bet ye were the one who lied and said I fucked somethin’ up, ay?” “Fuck off, cunt,” Addair snarled back, “Trust me, if I wanted to watch you get thrown off this boat, O’Connor…I’d throw you off myself,” he whispered that last part, his sombre expression slightly fading and giving way to his usual snake-like tone. The comment prompted a low growl out of O’Connor and before he knew it, his hands flew to Addair’s chest and he gave him a firm shove. “YA FUCKIN’ PRICK!”

Addair retaliated with a shove of his own and the two got into a big shoving match, their hands catching each other as they tried to push the other down. Rennick slammed his fists on his desk, “SIT THE FUCK DOWN, CILLIAN!!” he yelled. The two men stared at each other before O’Connor huffed and took a seat. Addair returned beside Rennick as the boss sat back down and sighed.

“Look,” Rennick began, “No one’s ‘ere because ye got the fuckin’ sack, a’richt?” he spoke, his voice much softer than O’Connor had ever heard it. “Addair is here because he got a letter incorrectly addressed to him…it was meant tae go tae ye…” he explained. O’Connor’s face scrunched up in suspicion.

‘Conveniently’ the person he hated the most got his letter? Yeah right. Rennick either read his thoughts or saw his expression because he immediately began to explain again. “I get it, ye two hate each other’s guts, Ah wuid be suspicious too…but believe me, this is the truth…Addair?” he spoke, gesturing for the Fat fuck to speak. “Look, I think yer the biggest waste of space on this rig, and I know ye’d rather want me burned in a furnace than talking to ya…but…” he paused, his hand going to his head.

O’Connor’s expression softened as he watched the body language change and the mood of the room seemed to shift.

“This…this was sent from the hospital in Aberdeen…” he explained, “...Me ex is in there…she sent a letter to me filing for divorce…which I still think is bullshit-” “Get to the point, Addair,” Rennick interrupted. Addair scoffed, handing O’Connor the letter. The latter simply stared, “W-Why would I be getting a letter from the hospital?” he asked, his voice no longer carrying his accent, hinting at the vulnerability he felt in that moment.

“It’s not directly from the hospital itself, but from the address…” Addair continued, “...I uh…admittedly…I had a read of it-”

“Ye read my mail?” O’Connor asked, his voice raising in volume. “Yeah…is from your broad, Marianne, whatever her name was…” Addair responded, “...somethin’ stupid I reckon…” he scoffed resulting in a growl from Rennick. He took over the conversation. “Addair thought it best if ye read it…Mary had sent it personally for ye…” “Ye read it too, Rennick!?” O’Connor yelled, standing up. Rennick stood up with him, “Listen, I’m given’ this tae ye fer ye tae read in yer own time, but I ken ye’ve been waiting ages for Mary to right back…this is why it’s taken so long…” “W-What’s that supposed ta mean!?” “JUST-” Rennick paused and took a deep breath, “Read it, O’Connor…”

The man simply stared in horror at the thought of what was in this letter. Trembles began to take over his body as he opened the letter, his eyes wide as they scanned the page. It didn’t take him long before he found the part that had thrown the whole mood of the office.

One word that now engraved itself into his mind.

‘Leukemia’

O’Connor felt his knees buckle, he tried to adjust his footing, his hands on Rennick’s desk barely managing to catch him as he felt his weight overpower him, his body shaking slightly and his eyes wet, brimming with unshed tears that he didn’t want to let fall. He couldn’t even read the rest of the letter. He simply held it in his hands as he took shaky breaths, trying to hold back his sobs. “Sh…S-She…She can’t!” he whispered. Rennick shook his head, “I’m sorry, Cillian…she’s a lovely lass…which is another reason why I needed tae give this tae ye…she found out a few months back apparently…”

O’Connor was in paralyzed horror. The woman he loved, his Irish Rose…was battling the worst thing he could imagine. Hospitals would be hard on her, he knew it, her treatment would be difficult. She would be in that hospital suffering and getting last at every amount of treatment she required. The thought sickened him. But what hurt more was the realization that dawned on him…she was alone.

He was out at sea here, no way to get off with his rostered hours…and she was stuck in a dingy old hospital room by herself…she was alone and he couldn’t be there for her.

The thought was horrible and he could only stare with wide eyes between the two men before him. Rennick sighed, “Ah’ve let the Mainland team ken…but…it’s unlikely they can get a bird out ‘ere for ye before the Holiday Shift…trus’ me, Ah’m as pissed off as ye right now about it…Ah’ll ‘ave another call for ye, but I cannae promise ye’ll be going back…Ah…Ah’m sorry…” the man spoke, his voice soft and almost trembling itself as Rennick sank into his seat. “Yer…yer free to go…both of ye,” he spoke.

With that, Addair walked out first. O’Connor took longer to go, but once he did, his eyes were fixed on the floor, He didn’t dare look up, his thoughts swimming in a pool of shock and disbelief. He then felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He looked to see Addair, staring at him with sincerity. “I don’t believe to be what makes us friends…I doubt we ever will be…” he said in a low voice, “...but…I’m sorry this is happening…despite how much of a prick ye are to me…and how much I am to ye…doesn’t mean ye deserve this…you or her…Write back to her when ya can…let her know how much ya love her before ye can’t…”

With that, Addair headed back down to Engineering, a sigh of disbelief escaping him. O’Connor stayed there for a while, still processing everything.

The journey between the walk from the office to the canteen was a blur and O’Connor felt as though he wasn’t even there. The room was empty with no one else but him, Roy and Finlay who were gabbing on in the background. O’Connor barely saw their forms, only hearing their muffled voices in his mind.

It was only when Caz’s voice rang out that he jumped back to reality and saw himself surrounded by his friends. Caz and Gibbo knelt directly in front of him, Trots on his left side and Roy on his right as Innes and Muir stood in the back together and Finlay stood with Brodie on the other side behind Gibbo. “Ye a’richt?” Caz asked, his eyes searching O’Connors face for an answer.

O’Connor didn’t answer right away, simply staring down at his hands.

“O’Connor?” Finlay called, tapping the man gently on his cheek with her knuckle, trying to pry a response from him. Still nothing.

Gibbo shuffled a little closer. ‘Cillian…Cilly…” he murmured, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Did Rennick give ye a boot?” Muir asked, a little insensitively but in his genuine way nonetheless. “Did ye want me tae punch him?”

O’Connor shook his head with a laugh. “No…no…” he mumbled, “...I’m fine…It’s not me I’m cryin’ o’er…” he explained. He showed the letter in hand. “Oh, Mary got back?” Roy asked. O’Connor nodded, no verbal response from him, however.

“Lad, ye’re worrying us,” Trots spoke softly, holding O’Connor’s hand. “Are ye okay? Is Mary okay, what happened?”

It took a few seconds but soon, soft whimpers escaped him, followed by his shoulders trembling and shaking with pent up sobs. His eyes pooled with tears that were threatening to spill at any second as his whimpers grew louder and more pained. And all at once, the floodgates opened as soft sobs escaped him, he clung to himself holding his elbows tight as he doubled over. Trots leaned on him, giving him comfort in a supportive embrace while Gibbo tried to get O’Connor to look at him, being gentle as his hands tried to cup O’Connor’s face and get him to look.

“Cillian, look at me- Its a’richt, it’ll be a’richt” he tried to assure him, but it was to little avail as the tears continued to fall and the sobs grew louder and more desperate. “IT’S NOT ALRIGHT!” O’Connor wailed, gripping onto Gibbo tightly who instinctively threw his arms around him in return, “IT’S NOT FAIR…She’s back on the mainland alone, she’s f-f-fighting Leuk-kemia alone a-and I can’t even h-help her…!” He sobbed. The mention of the condition sends everyone into varying states of horror.

“M-My darling, Mary…” he trembled, his body shaking even more as deep sobs escaped him, even louder than before. “O-Oh god…M-Mary…MARY!!” he cried, heaving into Gibbo’s shoulder, the latter only able to close his eyes as he held his friend, the reality of what he faced weighing even heavier on him.

“I’m so sorry, Cillian…” Gibbo spoke, his own eyes growing misty as he held his friend. Trots, seeing that more of the crew were coming in, knew that this was a matter best dealt with in privacy. He shared a look with Gibbo and the two stood and led him to the accommodation, settling him into Gibbo and Dobbie’s room. O’Connor’s shaking had subsided but the tears still poured.

Gibbo allowed O’Connor to lean into him, Trots offering a comforting side hug, albeit quite awkward, giving some comfort as O’Connor let out a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry, Cilly,” Trots spoke, “That’s something a couple should ne’er go through…that ain’t fair…it ain’t fair at all…and Cadal ain’t lettin’ ya go to see her?” “R-Rennick is tryna sort it out but…h-he reckons there’s no point in getting my hopes up…he was so nice to me about it too…” O’Connor explained, prompting a chuckle from Gibbo, ‘That’s a first, aye?”

O’Connor smiled slightly as he added to Gibbo’s joke. “Nah, what’s a first was Addair bein’ nice to me, fer once…” he commented, resulting in audible gasps from Trots and Gibbo on both of his sides. “No fucking’ way”

“Are ye pulling me tits right now?”

“Gibbo-”

“What?”

O’Connor laughed, feeling a little bit of levity as he sat there. He held the letter in his hands still, though it was a bit crumpled due to how hard he held it. “I…I hadn’t even read the whole thing…” he explained, “I-I got to the mention of…it…and I stopped…I couldn’t finish it for her,”

Trots looked at him with an eye of curiosity. He held out his hand at O’Connor with a smile, “May I?” he asked. O’Connor stared for a second, simply looking back and forth between Trots’ face and his hand, but he soon handed the paper to his friend and Trots unfolded the crumpled sheet and began to read it aloud for him.

As he read, O’Connor imagined Mary’s voice speaking to him as he had done every day before now.

“My darling Cilly…

…I’m sorry I haven’t written back in so long…fuck it’s been hard to want to do anything now…

…I feel bad having to explain to you this way but I have no choice do I?...I have Leukemia…I got diagnosed back in July…it wasn’t easy, but rest assured, I have been given the best doctors…I believe one of them may know your mukker, Cameron…she’s been talking my ear off nonstop about her man, can ya believe?”

That part made O’Connor laugh again, imagining Caz’s wife Suze babbling on to his poor Mary in her bed. The thought was as hilarious as it was comforting to him, knowing she was being treated well.

“...I had struggled trying to put this into words…in fact I didn’t even write this myself, Ms McLeary did! I just…I missed you so much…but I never wanted to burden you with this…I know treatment for someone like me…like either of us would usually be hard…we’ve never had it easy…but Suze is different…this place is different…it’s looking up for the both of us……We’re gonna be fine, I can feel it…just promise me you won’t get yourself hurt or put into a tizzy by that Addair fella…and for the love of all things holy when and if you visit you had better shave that stubble, or no snuggles for ye once I’m better!”

“Better get on it then!” Gibbo joked, the three men all laughing in response before settling down so Trots could continue reading.

“In other news, the shop is doing well back home, Daisy and Lilliane are taking care of it, and yer old friend Finnegan even popped by for a visit here! He gave me some flowers and told me to tell you not to leave his wellies lying around in the ground, the dogs got em last night and he had to walk in socks and slippers, ha!”

There it was. Her trademark sunshine personality, her golden, bright and peppy attitude made him always smile whenever he saw her. He could practically feel her warmth around him despite her situation and he loved how she could always see the bright side of everything no matter what.

“I can’t talk for too much longer, but this is just to say, I’ll be okay…we’ll be okay, don’t fret too much about me…I know you’re doing your best and I don;t need anything more than to know that you’re happy…I love you mo ghrá…Come visit me soon so I can hear your darling, bassy voice and feel your arms around me again…my strong, handsome man…my O’Connor

Grá mo chroí thú, Tá mo chroí istigh ionat Mo chuisle

Lots of love, from your darling irish rose

Sincerely

-Mary O’Connor”

O’Connor felt his eyes well up with tears once again, but this time they weren’t of sadness, but of love and longing. He felt the same painstaking feeling of want as he did before, but this time there was a sense of relief, of comfort, knowin that she was okay.

Hearing her words were like a lifeline to him that he didn’t know he needed and he smiled as he leaned into his friends embrace, feeling a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a bit.

She was right…She was always right…

They were going to be okay…

#swtd #still wakes the deep #swtd O'Connor #O'Connor #fic #long fic #Gibbo #Trots #Muir #Innes #Finlay #Brodie (mentioned)#Roy #Caz #Cameron McLeary

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taempteng · 5 months ago

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So, I finally finished 2ha.

I... have some thoughts.

Let's talk!

【 Story Review 】 The Husky & His White Cat Shizun

I started this story on the 30th of May through the manhua. When I caught up to the latest release, I switched to the novel. I binged the novel day and night, until finally ending the story on the 12th of June.

I want to clarify that I’ve only finished the main 311 chapters. I haven’t read the extra 39 chapters.

This review will only discuss my thoughts on the main story. I'll decide whether to talk about the extra chapters when I finish those in the future.

With that said, what is 2ha?

2ha is short for Dumb Husky and his White Cat Shizun. It came from the Mandarin title 《二哈和他的白猫师尊》 where 二哈 literally translates to “2 ha(s)”. It’s written by 肉包不吃肉 or “Meatbun Doesn’t Eat Meat”.

What’s the story about?

Well, it follows a man named Mo Ran. He’s a regressor and in his first life, he was the 踏仙君 or Celestial-Trampling Emperor. He was at the peak of the Cultivation World, a tyrant who ascended to godhood. However, at the age of 32, he poisoned himself and died.

But then, he wakes up! And he’s back to 16 years ago, before his life went to shit! The guy he likes is still alive, so are his sect members-

Oh, and his Shizun isn’t dead anymore, he supposed.

Either way, he swore to turn his fate around, ensure his crush doesn’t die in this life, and get back at everyone who had wronged him in his first life! Especially that darn Shizun who he hates the most!

Now that you know what the story is about, what is the story like?

2ha has your blueprint regression story beginning. Mo Ran dies bitterly in his first life, regresses, and swears to annihilate all his adversaries while aiming for a better future. That better future being ensuring his crush stays alive.

You must think that, because of the premise, Mo Ran will use the knowledge of his past life to team up with characters that can help with his goal, have intense scheming face-offs against his adversaries, and eventually find a way to overcome his crush’s death. Right?

Well, you would be wrong!

You see, the events in the second timeline unfurled much differently than the first. And when I said “differently”, I don’t mean “the main character did this, so the other characters did that”. No, I meant “the main character didn’t get to move an inch before something completely sidetracks”.

Usually in regression stories, the main character will narrate what happened in the first timeline and tell the audience how they will counter the events in this new life. In 2ha however, despite being told by Mo Ran about the events of the first timeline, what ended up happening in the current life was straight up different. So, Mo Ran was unprepared and had to deal with the situation differently.

It’s definitely a refresher to see Mo Ran being flustered by the change of events, especially when he’s not written to be a masterclass schemer. He’s not shounen-MC-dumb, but he’s clearly not Sherlock-Holmes-genius. It’s a good balance between being thrown off guard by the unfamiliar situation while also trying to adapt to the new scenario.

So if you had been put off by the idea of a stereotypical regression story, you can rest assured that 2ha subverts this trope. It’s packed with interesting twists and dramatic turns, while displaying compelling characters and rewarding developments. It’s a story that keeps you on the edge of your seat and always wanting to turn to the next chapter!

Since finishing the story, what did I think of the ending?

Obviously, as the finale, the final arc had to be the most dramatic. Many things happened that honestly had me restless and fearful. With how the plot was progressing, I thought the ending would be a downer.

By the final chapter, all I felt was peace and calm. Not the kind of ��and they lived happily ever after”, but more of a “and everyone moved on with their lives”. It’s the kind of feeling when a disaster happened, but you got away with your life, so despite the depression, you still found a way to pick yourself up again and overcome the difficulty.

The final arc was one heck of a rollercoaster ride, but the ending was sweet enough that it makes you glad that everyone could live as happily as possible. In a way, it’s bittersweet, in that the bitter memories will now only bring a sweet fondness of bygone past and a hopeful future.

So for readers who don’t like sad/bad endings or open/ambiguous endings, you don’t have to worry as everyone in the story (or at least the important characters) gets some form of closure.

Overall, what are my thoughts on 2ha?

I personally think the story is amazing. It’s a long story, and there’s a lot of drama and angst. However, reaching the end after all the turmoil and agony, I think it’s worth the arduous read and late night binging.

For me, even if some characters are unbearable at the beginning or some times, they’re still ultimately interesting and endearing. Even with the characters I despise, I can understand why they act the way they do. I don’t like them and I certainly don’t suddenly like them just because they’re sympathetic, but the characters are distinct, convincing and not one-dimensional.

The plot progression is exciting but not spontaneous. Every event happened for a reason, and you won’t feel as if something occurred for the shock value. As the story progresses, the puzzle pieces will piece themselves, leaving you wide-eyed with realisation.

The story isn’t fast-paced, but it isn’t draggy either. It dwells on emotional scenes to bring out the rawest feelings, making you explore the minds of the characters. It also concludes each chapter with a hook, resolving one scene while making you curious for the next.

It is a story that captivates your attention while squeezing your heart where it hurts. Definitely a must-read if you’re an angst or drama lover! The ending is worth all the pain and anguish.

What is the moral of the story?

Some common themes I noticed in 2ha include loneliness, anger and resentment, and karma and revenge. There may be other themes, but these are the most prominent ones.

I’ll explore these themes more thoroughly in the future. For now, I want to talk about what we can take away from this story.

I think this line by Xue Meng in the final chapter perfectly encapsulates the overarching message of 2ha.

I’d love to discuss how this line summarises the lesson in the story, but that’ll require me to spoil a lot of important plot points. So instead, I’ll leave this conversation for another day. Now, we’ll move on to the final part of this review!

Any last words for anyone who wants to pick up 2ha?

A fair warning before you begin: You will hate Mo Ran at the start. His attitude towards Chu Wanning, his master and endgame, was very frustrating. Although there were sweet moments, the way he went straight for Shi Mei when he comes into view will probably make you tear your hair out.

Of course, it gets better as the story progresses, but if you don’t like seeing one side of the couple mistreating and misunderstanding the other side, then this story is not for you.

Not to mention, there are triggering themes discussed such as SA and cannibalism. If these topics make you uncomfortable, proceed with caution or reconsider starting the story.

2ha also touched upon subjects like misogyny, dehumanisation, hate campaigns — just a lot of heavy topics that may be distressing if you’re trying to read for fun and not to be reminded of reality.

With all that said, if you can handle a good dose of heartache, I highly recommend this story! It’s amazingly written (in my opinion) with lovable characters and an intriguing plot. I give 2ha 5 stars!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be reading those extra chapters!

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jreads · 2 years ago

Text

Unexpected Constellations (Part 14)

Rating: No crazy stuff

Word Count: 6.8K

Warnings: Warnings: Angst, Mentions of blood, Canon-level violence, Dark themes, Foul language, Din being a cutie

A/N: Sorry I pushed this back for so long! It was giving me such grief but I think I am okay with posting it now. I was overwhelmed with the love from the previous part and I am so so happy that everyone liked it. As it stands, this is the penultimate part! As always, comment on this post or the masterlist to get added to the taglist. So much love 🤍

Waking up next to him was bliss. Your body felt tired and achy and sore, but his head was resting on your chest, curls tickling your chin, body pressed possessively against your own. Breathing even. It was so new to see him like this, and it had quickly become one of your favourite things. You ran fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp and his sleepy groan was so deep that it might have been a purr.

“You’re so beautiful.” It sort of slipped out. You were becoming loose lipped around him.

“You keep saying that.”

“It’s true.” Maker, and his voice. Rich like sweet candy.

He huffed into your skin, arms tightening around you like a band.

You stilled your fingers in his hair. “You don’t believe me?”

No answer. But he lifted his head, brows raising quizzically, eyes still heavy with sleep. It was impossible. Intolerable.

“I mean… Have you looked at yourself?”

Din answered too matter-of-factly. “Yes. In the fresher sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“I don’t look at my reflection a lot.”

“Why not?”

He seemed to get fed up with your line of questioning, collapsing back against you and nuzzling into your stomach to avoid an answer. But you weren’t letting it go so easily.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“I think you’re biased.” He kissed your navel.

You tried to ignore the flutter that went through you. “I think you’re insufferable.”

He pressed you to the bed then, hovering over you just slightly. “I guess you’ll have to suffer then. You’re stuck with me now.”

Snarky, gorgeous, unbelievable. “Can’t imagine how I’m ever going to survive—”

“Shut up.” He captured your laugh in a kiss, slow and sensual and lazy, and you lost yourself in it. You let him guide your wrists above your head, where he pinned them with a broad palm. You let him trail the other hand down your side, over the curve of your waist.

You let him, you let him, you let him.

It took the both of you far too long to make it out of Boba’s guest suite. Din had even quipped about him starting to charge rent. But eventually, and quite unfortunately, you were reminded that a galaxy existed outside of each other, and that you needed to get back to it.

Din had only told you about the Imp that morning, reluctantly. And perhaps that was lucky, because if you had known earlier, there was little chance you would have been able to sleep let alone focus on anything else. Focus on Din.

But you knew now.

What Din had done wasn’t lost on you. He could have killed the man himself; he had had plenty of time while you were still unconscious. He could have drawn it out, made it bloody. You knew he enjoyed that sometimes… when given the right circumstances… when the victim was deserving. But he had captured him instead, left him alive. Not just so you could kill him yourself if you pleased, but because he knew you needed closure. Thus, the day’s responsibilities would be far from easy and would also take some time.

A quick comm chat with Peli had ended with the lady practically demanding that she take Grogu to a podrace, and that if you two were early to Mos Eisley this evening, you ‘would just have to park your asses down in the hangar and wait.’ It was so good to hear the child’s coos from the other end of the line, though it only eased your trepidation by a fraction.

“You don’t have to do this.” Din’s presence was unyielding behind you as you made your way down darkened sandstone steps. “Say the word, and I can—”

You silenced the rest of his sentence, stopping abruptly on the staircase and spinning on him. A step above, he towered over you. Ever the protector. “As much as I’m sure you’d love to…” You rose onto the tips of your toes and caressed the indents in his helmet. “…I have to handle this myself.”

He nodded once. “I’ll be here. If you need anything—” Before he could finish, another voice sounded from behind you.

“You’re awake. I was getting worried.”

It was enough to make you reconsider the rest of the descent into the Rancor’s cave. Truthfully, you might have preferred coming face-to-face with the Rancor instead. Powerless. You had to remind yourself. He has no power here. Over you. Over anything.

With a shaky breath, you reached the bottom of the pit, advancing on a menacing portcullis. Though he was silent, you knew Din followed.

He was grasping onto the gate bars with white knuckles. He looked a sight. Usually pristine Imperial uniform now torn and singed, he was covered in dirt and dried blood. A nasty gash had crusted over on the top of his head, staining his hair. You wondered who had done it. Your money was on Boba. If it had been Din, he wouldn’t have stopped there.

“Leaving you alone with two Mandalorians and a bounty hunter?” He scoffed, as if the idea were preposterous. “Their kind are ravagers. I’m relieved you’re alright.”

To act as if he was concerned about your well-being at all was almost insulting. What was worse was the assumption that the ones who had cared for you would have put you in harm’s way. A reversal of roles… a projection.

You tried to summon an air of phony assertiveness, though your hands were shaking. Fear? Anxiety? Rage? It was anyone’s guess. “Here’s how this is going to work. You don’t insult my friends. In fact, don’t speak unless you’re answering a question. Are we clear?”

He seemed to pay you no mind. “Look at you! So confident. Perhaps those years apart were a blessing in disguise.” He seemed comfortable, assured even, but his knuckles, blanched against the gate metal, gave him away.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you… what you did in that control room. It was amazing. Magnificent.”

The control room? When you knocked him out?

“I always knew you had it in you.” His eyes were glazing over with some sort of sick admiration. “Your master would be so proud.”

The control room. The water, the cables. The electricity. Oh. Stars. He thought you had summoned lightning.

“I don’t… I didn’t.” You suddenly felt the need to defend yourself. Not to him, but to the man behind you. The one you were trying to convince that you were good. The one you were trying to convince yourself that you were deserving of.

“You don’t need to be afraid.” His smile made you feel sick, whatever calm mask you had put in place quickly slipping. “This is what you were meant for. Don’t you see? Everything we—” He was quick to correct himself. “Everything they did was for this… And look how strong you are now.” Dirty fingers reached past the bars, grasping for you. You stumbled back into Din’s chest.

He ran a hand over you side, squeezing at your hip, barely a featherlight touch but grounding nonetheless. You breathed a few times, timing your inhales with the rise and fall of his chest.

However, the Imp was now surveying the Mandalorian with a repulsed expression. Looking from him to you… and back again. He sneered. “Wow, really?” He waited, as if for an answer. “You could conquer worlds, topple governments. The galaxy would bow at your feet.” That petulant entitlement had found its way back into his cadence. “Is this what you’d throw it all away for? A trivial romance?” Disgust dripped from his words. “You could be a god.”

When you broke his eye contact, he turned to Din instead. “And you could be rich.”

“I’m not interested in credits.” There was a sharp edge in his modulated voice, a promise of violence.

“No, I’m sure you’re not. It’s power you’re after.” The hatred between the two men hung so thick in the air that it was starting to suffocate. “What is it? Planning on using her to retake your home world?” Din stilled. “Who would dare to stand against you with a Sith at your side?”

“Enough.” Your tone was sharp, but not sharp enough.

“How long has it been since your people have even seen Mandalore? Set foot on the scorched soil? I wonder what they’ll find beneath its surface.” His tone was all too knowing. Din’s mind roared like a wildfire behind you.

“I said enough.” Your raised voice finally seemed to break their murderous concentration on one another. “You don’t get to ask questions. But you can answer mine.”

His energy changed immediately. “Anything you want to know. I’ve only ever been honest with you.” A flicker of a glare over your shoulder. “But your bodyguard will have to leave.”

You could feel Din reach for his blaster. No, not the blaster… that was on the other side of his hip.

You spun, a hand on his own to halt him. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” There was a beat of silence as he considered. Rage, violence, bloodlust. This wasn’t Din; there was nothing of the man you knew in him. This was The Mandalorian.

“You don’t open the gate; you stay away from the bars.” His voice was hushed, steady, lethal. “He tries anything, or you sense anything, you call for me.” You nodded. Still, he hesitated.

“I’ve got this.” You ran a thumb under the edge of his glove, over the soft skin of his inner wrist. Over the pulse point. It was jumping rapidly, a sign of him. “Go.”

With what you could tell was one more glance at the man behind you, he turned, footfalls heavy, and made his way back up the steps. Before he could disappear from sight, the man spoke.

“Good. Now we can stop pretending.” You knew Din had heard it. He was egging him on. Did he not understand that you were the only thing stopping Din from shoving the saber through his throat? Or maybe that was the whole point.

Without Din’s protective presence, you instantly felt more unpredictable. You needed a moment to calm, recenter yourself. You paced in a circle. However, the Imp had other plans.

“So, this is the company you’re keeping nowadays? Bounty hunters and criminals?”

Focus. Don’t get carried away.

“You understand it, right? They’re not on our level. Nowhere near it. Completely inferior. I suppose it’s my own fault for letting you go.”

Letting you go. As if you hadn’t tried to remove his head from his shoulders in your fight for an escape pod.

“Won’t you say something? As much as I’m glad you’re okay, I’m not overly fond of the hospitality here and would like for us to get going as soon as possible.”

What?

“You think I’m going anywhere with you?” You practically hissed it. Only once he smiled did you realize you had given him what he wanted… engagement.

His head tilted. “Aren’t you? What life do you have here, amongst the rabble?”

You have one. You have one. A place, a purpose.

“Don’t you remember?” You hate his smile. You could slice lines up his face, from the corners of his mouth to his hairline. “You were made to serve.”

There’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop the onslaught of memories, the mere utterance of those words enough to shake them loose. Even through the haze of repression.

You’re shaking, so weak that you can barely keep your head from drooping. Your hands are tied with binders to the ceiling, so high that you have to rise on your toes to release the strain from your shoulder. A rib might be broken, maybe two. Not that it mattered; the droid would patch you up anyway. It always did, after every round, over and over and over…

“Let me go.” It was a pathetic wheeze, croaky and quiet.

Two of the men leer. “Sorry? What was that?” One caresses your face before rearing back and throwing a fist. You’ve numbed to the pain a bit, but you still feel the sharp sting of your own teeth cutting into the inside of your cheek. You lose purchase on the floor and hang, the impact brutal on your shoulders.

“Please.” You would beg, on your knees if you needed to. “Please, let me go.”

He’s there. Lifting your head with an iron grip on your chin. “And where would you go, dear?”

You have no ship, you can’t fly, your knowledge of planets is minimal. You have nowhere to go.

“What life could you have outside of this?”

Your head is throbbing. You might pass out.

“This is your purpose. You were made to serve. Don’t ever forget that.”

Your vision goes black.

Perhaps it’s because you were squeezing your eyelids shut, trying so hard to block out the vivid recollection. You shook your head like a crazed person, grabbing at your scalp. Like you could feel the pain. The pounding ache of having been hit too many times. Oh maker, the pain.

Breathe. You’re out. Din’s just outside the stairwell. Listen. You can hear his heartbeat. He’s right there. Breathe with him.

He was solid as a stone when you sensed him, leaned against the wall. You wondered if he could hear—probably not. You could remember what it was like to kiss him, feel his skin against your own, his hair, trace the angles of his jaw. It was so recent, so fresh. Not like the other memories. You could forget the agony, replace it with pleasure. Softness and warm pressure.

Your eyes opened in their natural hue. The Imp was clapping, a slow, sharp staccato. “Impressive. Is that a Jedi technique? Does it help to play pretend?”

Get the info. Get it done and get out. You took another deep breath.

“You answer my questions, or I walk.”

He didn’t reply, just assessed you. It wasn’t a yes, but it also wasn’t a no. But you could feel that he wanted to answer—or rather, he wanted to talk—but either way, he didn’t want you to leave. It was beyond unsettling.

“Have you found him?” Please no, please no, please—

“So, you believe me now?”

“No. I just want to make sure Palpatine stays dead.”

His smile was absolutely vile. “There are more ways than one to ensure that that doesn’t happen.”

He could be lying. Trying to extend his relevance, his usefulness. Half truths. Half answers. Always cryptic. You were so tired of this. Of the worry, the fear, of looking behind you anytime the light dimmed and the dark intensified, just in case.

You stepped closer. “What do you know?”

There was a sparkle of crazed excitement in his eyes. “I know that it’s inevitable. There’s not a single thing you can do to stop it from happening. All you can do is be ready.”

“Ready for what?” But he was already on the uncontrolled ramble of a zealot.

“I’ve made you ready. I’ll be a hero. I’ll get what I was promised. We—”

“We what?” Every muscle in your body was tensing dangerously. Warning alarms. “What were you promised?”

“Look at you.” He was breathless. “You’re perfect. I crafted you—”

He believed it. All of it. It may be bullshit, but it was the truth from his tongue. There was a pain in your chest. You wouldn’t go back. Couldn’t. Because if he was right and Palpatine did come for you, you knew that Dinwouldn’t stand aside. Grogu wouldn’t. And you knew what he would do to them, what he would make you watch him do. Din was a powerful warrior, but he wouldn’t stand a chance against the Emperor. Palpatine would break him apart.

“What were you promised?” You didn’t notice the walls start to tremble. The loose sandstone start to fall in small puffs of dust.

“The Force. I was promised the Force.” His eyes were blown wide, rimmed with red. “We would be equals. We will be.”

Shaking. Your bones, your eyes, the very structure of the palace around you. “That’s not possible.”

“Times are changing. Why do you think Gideon wanted the child so badly?”

Grogu. Everything stilled. He looked triumphant.

“I could just kill you right now.”

“You won’t do that.” He reached an arm through the bars, as if he expected you to take his hand. “Because if you do, you prove me right. If you do, you become everything you insist you aren’t.”

That was it. That was all you could take. Because as you turned for the steps, blocking out the voice behind you, you knew that he had a point. You wanted to kill him. You wanted to take your time with it. Make it hurt. And what did that make you?

You made it to the top of the steps and turned the corner too sharply, bumping into a wall of beskar. He didn’t say a word, just held you. You couldn’t find the energy to hold him back. You were still seeing flashes of imagined images. His helmet, splattered with blood. The handsome head you were just starting to become familiar with severed from his broad shoulders. Grogu’s cry of anguish. There was something numbing about the information he had given, a sense of futility to every action you had taken and would take. What if none of it mattered?

“I’m going to get some air.” You pushed away from him, and he let you go.

He had seen you through many moods recently, but never such empty hopelessness. And he felt hollow himself, watching you walk away, because he had no idea what to say to make any of it better. Din could tell you what he believed, but this wasn’t up to him. There was, however, one thing he could do. Maybe it was petty and stupid, but Din descended the stone staircase with a muted smile on his face.

The Imp was facing the back wall of the Rancor pit, kicking at a pile of picked-clean bones in the corner. They might have been human; Din wasn’t sure. He must have heard the footfalls because he called out without turning: “Made up your mind that quickly?”

“Oh, my mind’s made up.” It was satisfying to catch him off guard. “My mind was made up the second she told me about you.”

“She told you, did she?” Din had no mind-reading abilities, but he could easily sense just how much this man despised him. And he had a nauseating hunch as to why. “What, exactly, did she tell you Mandalorian? I’m curious as to which parts she conveniently left out.” He pulled down the dirty collar of his uniform. “Did she tell you about this?”

You hadn’t. But he found himself smiling wider. The pale pink scar practically stretched from ear to ear. You had tried to slit his throat. Good girl.

“Did she tell you about how she slaughtered my men? How she left a trail of blood to the escape pod? She was still young then. She murdered them like animals. Did she tell you about that?”

Din crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He was actually quite enjoying this story.

“What about the choke? I doubt she’s learned to control it.” He cocked his head. “But, then again, maybe you’re into that sort of thing.”

Ah. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Din could tell he had struck a nerve. “It’s jealousy.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

He pushed off, stepped forward a touch, into the light of the opening above. “You wish you were me. You wish she saw you the way she sees me. As an ally, a protector…” A vein was starting to bulge in the Imp’s forhead. “…a lover.”

He threw a fist against the bars. “You’re fooling yourself, Mandalorian. You’re like a child holding a blaster. You have no idea how dangerous she is. She’s some pretty girl to you… a trophy.” He spat at Din’s feet. “You make me sick.”

Struck a nerve. He had to laugh, though it was humorless. He still believed in your superiority, truly; next to him you were practically royalty. But you had chosen him… and that was enough. His riduur.

He pondered for a moment, about telling the Imp of the vows you had made last night, the depth of them. If only just to piss him off. But it was none of his business. He didn’t need to prove himself. So instead, he said: “You’re going to die here. And maybe she won’t be the one to kill you, but if she doesn’t then I will. And if she doesn’t want me to, then Fett will, or Shand. You won’t leave this palace alive; you’ll bleed out in that cell. That’s a promise.”

“What’s your point, Mandalorian?”

“My point is that I suggest you make peace with the things you did to an innocent girl.” He turned to leave. “And I sincerely hope you don’t believe in the afterlife.”

It was a scorching day on Tatooine, but you had been lucky enough to catch an edge of the rounded palace walls that welcomed both shade and a light breeze. It was there that you had sat for the past hour, staring out over the dunes, lost in an endless free fall of thoughts.

Since the day you escaped and crashed onto Sorgan, you had taken part in a never-ceasing internal battle between light and dark. Trying to prove to yourself that you weren’t the culmination of your history. And this—the decision to kill him or leave him alive—it played directly into that conflict. He was right. But he had to die. And it was no one’s responsibility but your own.

You heard him coming, you always did. But Din still didn’t say a word, just sat cross-legged to your left. You were both silent for a long time, the hiss of shifting sand the only sound. But you eventually leaned closer, like magnets drawn together, until your head met his shoulder.

“He’s right, you know. About me.”

“Bantha shit.”

“Din…”

He straightened and you moved your head, already loathing the loss of contact. “No. Stop. You don’t get to do this now. I know you.”

“You know who I am since I met you, that’s different.” You pulled at your scalp in frustration. “Who I was before, the things that I did—”

“You did to survive. You didn’t have a choice. With me, you do.”

“So then what about the Weequay in Mos Eisley? The crystal, Din. And on the Razor Crest when I had that nightmare, and you woke me?”

“Stop it.” His tone was harsh in a way you hadn’t heard from him very often. “I have never…” He trailed off, voice straining. “I have never met anyone like you. Who acts for others, cares so strongly, even after what you’ve been through.” You can hear his shaky inhale. “Cyare, you’re a fucking miracle.”

You were trying so damn hard to keep your bottom lip from trembling.

“Killing him won’t change that. It won’t change a damn thing. Not to me.” He cupped your jaw, turning it to face him. “You’re still you. You always will be.” A light laugh. “Even with yellow eyes.”

You managed a smile through the few tears that had already fallen. He wiped at one with a gloved thumb.

“He might be right about some things, but the depth of your character is not one of them.”

That got your attention.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t reply. “Din. What did he say to you?”

He kept stroking a thumb absentmindedly over your cheekbone. When he finally spoke, it was only a breathy whisper. “You are. Above me. I don’t deserve to touch you; I don’t even deserve to breathe your air.” It felt like you were being gutted. “I don’t deserve to want you. He’s right about that.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “As if I could even help it.”

Oh, stars. What a fucking pair the two of you made, both so convinced you were unworthy of the other. It was almost hilarious. “This is stupid,” you said as if it was an epiphany. “That is so stupid.” You punched him, square on the breastplate. He barely even moved, but your hand hurt so badly that you had to shake it out.

That eclipsed your problems. Din Djarin, singlehandedly responsible for teaching you to trust again, for bringing you back from the brink maker knows how many times, for making you feel love and pleasure so strong it burned a hole in your chest. He thought himself unworthy of you.

“I’m going to kill him.” Din’s helmet cocked to one side at your quick change of heart. “And then I’m going to show you why that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

“I love you.” Those three words, the way they rolled off his tongue, crackled through the vocoder, they were so charged with emotion that they singed through you like a blaster bolt.

He stood and then offered a hand down. “Do you want me with you?” You took it, rising to your feet and brushing sand off of your trousers.

“Yes. Please.” Always.

He only nodded. Waited for you to make the first move. And when you finally stepped ahead of him, walking back to the mouth of the palace, he had a hand on the small of your back, as if he knew the depth of comfort that it offered.

You didn’t want to keep looking over your shoulder. Because you would. If you left him alive now, no matter where the three of you went in the galaxy, there would always be the possibility of him looming, of Palpatinelooming, just around the corner. And it wasn’t just about you. This was about keeping Grogu safe too. And you would do absolutely anything to protect him, even if it meant… whatever it meant.

The roughly hewn rock cavern was cool, mercifully. Though it did little to stifle the heat of your nerves, the sweat rolling between your shoulder blades. The clamminess of your hands. Din stayed a few paces behind.

“So, what’s it going to be?” His ability to remain unruffled in the face of possible death was almost admirable. You throat was too dry to reply, so you focused instead on the gate control panel. It rose up with an unpleasant screech. You could see him assessing your own features, Din’s stance. He didn’t believe you would do it, but he was smart enough to realise he wasn’t escaping.

“Really?” His eyebrows rose. “You’re going to make him do it for you? At least have the decency to kill me yourself.” A last ditch attempt. If only he knew that your mind was made up. You reached a hand behind you, not taking your eyes off the Imp. You weren’t taking any chances. Din understood; he always did.

But you had expected the blaster. A single shot to the head and it would be over. That wasn’t what Din handed you. The handle was smooth, heavier than you expected, all sharp angles and cool steel. Harsh? Maybe. But people had been known to survive a blaster bolt.

It ignited smoothly. You swung it low, experimental. The blade hummed in response.

And suddenly there was fear—real fear—in his eyes. And oh, how it made your blood sing.

“You won’t.” I sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He gaped at you, mouth opening and closing, searching desperately for words that might spare his worthless life. “He’ll come for you!”

You advanced, rolling the darksaber’s hilt in your grasp. Palms slick with sweat. “You’re delusional.” You wish you believed it more. There was no fanfare, no grand moment. You drove the darksaber through his chest without pause, without hesitation. And it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel evil. You were glad to see the light leave his eyes. But the words he uttered in his last breaths would stay with you for a long time, rousing you from nightmares for years to come.

“The master… needs an apprentice.”

You looked majestic holding the saber. It didn’t seem as heavy for you as it did for him, perhaps because you were already used to the weight of power. Din felt pride swell in his chest like a blooming flower.

The symbolism that the Imp had put upon his own death was bullshit, but he had known it would affect you, cloud your judgement. The truth? It was that he deserved to die, brutally, and that regardless of who made the killing blow, it was justified. Din only thought, fleetingly, that it was too easy. That he deserved a slower demise, more painful. That perhaps your actions had even been merciful. Maker knows that if Din had been the one to do it, his methods may have blanched even Fett’s already Sarlacc-bleached skin.

He had crumpled to the floor, the edges of his wound glowing slightly as the skin cauterized. You were heaving, lost in the moment of death. So he brought you back, and hand on your elbow snaking to your hand, helping you to extinguish the darksaber. You let it happen, leaned into his touch. Turned to him and smiled, because it was over, because this time he wasn’t coming back. He loved being the one to center you. That smile was haunted, tinged with some far-reaching darkness that he knew wouldn’t pass easily. But it wouldpass. With time.

“Let’s go get our kid.”

You nodded, and he watched the stiffness ease from your shoulders. You looked tired. So tired. Din pulled you into his chest.

“It’ll be okay.” He would burn the galaxy down to ensure it.

You went to take a shower. You had stumbled over your words, trying to explain why. Din had stopped you, knowing the reason innately, having experienced it himself. A need to wash the deed off, to clean the blood that hadn’t even stained your hands. He sought out Fett while you were gone, thanked him, refueled the Crest.

They were both quiet as they worked, a lack of words available to describe what they wished to say. Finally, Boba broke the silence.

“Take care of her. Protect her. She needs you. They both do.”

Din nodded in acknowledgement, not trusting himself to speak stably. Boba seemed to catch on quite easily, stopping his tinkering with one of the hull’s new outer panels.

“I know what it’s like… to feel like you don’t deserve happiness. After everything you’ve done.” Din stilled, hand hovering over the fuel tank lid. “Learn to be selfish sometimes, Djarin. It’s the one thing you’ll never regret.”

Fett didn’t wait for a reply, clapping him once on the back before moving to exit the hanger. “You’ve always got a landing pad with us. Don’t forget that.” His murmur of thanks came too late; Boba had already left.

The shower had only half helped, but seeing Din again, bent over and fussing with wiring, was much more effective.

“Need a hand?” He jumped a little; you must have been too quiet on approach. “Sorry.”

He rose to full height, and you shrunk under what you could tell was an assessing look, even with the helmet. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now.”

His head tilted. “Be honest with me, please.”

You sighed, because of course he could read you. “I’ll be okay.” He was too quiet, probably running through ideas of how to put a smile on your face. The idea of it was enough to do just that. You swore that you could see his stature loosen. “Let me help with the cables. Your hands are too big.” You swatted Din to the side, crouching over the panel he had been studying.

“The ramp’s been fussing. I came in too hard when I landed, probably shorted something. And the cockpit door doesn’t close. Um. It’s dented.” You knew why. But the information made you study him, looking up into the dark T of the visor. Fennec had told you briefly about how he had practically stormed the palace, leaving a trail of incapacitated Gamorreans in his wake in his rush to get to the throne room. ‘Panicked,’ Shand had said. You had never seen him panicked before, even when the kid had been taken. Always cool and calculated.

Wires momentarily forgotten, you rose steadily and circled your arms around his middle, cheek resting against that divot in his breastplate. He stiffened at the suddenness of your movement.

“Thank you. I haven’t said it… I don’t say it nearly enough.” His body felt nice in the circle of your arms, warm and sure and real. You could feel the shudder of his inhale as he hugged you back.

You had pushed your boundaries with him recently, physically. But this… the simplicity of being able to curl your arms around each other, share breath, feel his heartbeat on the other side of a beskar plate, and know what it meant; you wouldn’t trade it for a single thing.

And to think that you thought you might never experience this. Such an all-consuming type of love, a fierce protectiveness, a family.

Maybe the stories had been right; perhaps the stars did align sometimes.

Even with all the events of the day, Din and you were early to Mos Eisley. The suns were getting low, but only enough to cast that warm reddish glow upon the sand. You both sat on the ship’s extended ramp, looking out towards the street. It regaled you with memories of only a few days prior. And how impossible it seemed that so much had happened in such a short period of time.

Din had kissed you before opening the Crest, once… twice… more times than you could count. Your lips felt swollen, but you doubted you would ever get enough of him. The crowds were getting louder as spectators made their way back from the podracing track, their ruckus travelling into the landing bay and echoing off the walls. It was… nice. Really nice. One thing could make it perfect.

A shrill cry stood out over the commotion. One that you knew all too well. He tried his best to run towards you, short legs tripping over the long fabric of his cloak. You and Din met him halfway, scooping him up from the sand, dusting it off his clawed feet. Grogu cried out in joy, and you tried and failed to stop the wave of emotion before it crested. Because from him you felt such love that it bore a hole straight through your heart. Love and happiness and bone-crushing relief.

“He was worried about us,” you told Din, laughing through blurred vision. You were holding the child in your arms, and Din was holding you in his. Grogu messed with your earlobe with one clawed hand, and the fabric of Din’s cowl with the other.

So this was what home felt like.

“We’re good, Grogu. We’re okay.” Din was fussing with his ears, such a tender motion. “Hope you minded your manners, kid.”

Peli’s high pitched voice cut through the moment. “Well, what am I? Chopped liver?” All three of you looked up at the same time.

The tiny woman had both hands on her hips, a fond smirk across her lips. She closed the distance between you. “Kid’s an absolute joy. A menace… but a joy. You two sure you don’t have any more galaxy-wide adventures you need to take care of?”

Din squeezed your waist. “We’re on sabbatical. Extended leave.”

She nodded in appreciation. “Good. Take them both somewhere real nice then. Five-star resort, renowned chefs, the works.” She muttered under breath: “Maker knows you can afford it.”

Grogu cooed. You wondered if he was starting to recognize the word chef, given its association with his absolute favourite word, food.

“Something like that,” Din answered. You hadn’t really discussed you plans to follow this, your priority having been getting the kid back. It didn’t matter too much to you, not really, not as long as you had the two of them at your side.

He had already punched in the coordinates when you came up behind him, Grogu on your shoulder, your hand on his own.

“Can I ask something of you?” You were wearing the vambraces. He was momentarily speechless, forgetting you had just posed a question. They fit perfectly. He wondered, awestruck, just how the Armourer did it. She had once said that each piece speaks of its wearer as she strikes it into shape. He wondered if she saw you.

Beautiful. And all his.

“Din?”

“Anything you want.” His voice was breathy, caught off guard. Your bashful smile was heavenly. He wanted to kiss you… kiss the beskar… fuck you with nothing but the gauntlets on. Grogu squawked sharply at the both of you, as if to say ‘Get on with it.’

You laughed, before the smile faded into something more muted. Apprehension, curiosity.

“I want…” You fiddled with the tattered edge of his cape, toying with a hole in it, taking a deep breath before meeting his eyes again. “I want to go see Skywalker.”

“I thought you might say that.” He noted your look of well-camouflaged surprise. “There’s a box for you in hull storage, when you’re ready.” He knew that you knew what was in it. He was going to get choked up if you kept looking at him like that. Din spun back around to face the dash. “I’ve got to redo my calculations now.”

“I’m sorry.” He had to smile at the dismayed tone of your voice.

He was quick to reassure. “Don’t be. It’s the right choice. I’m proud of you.” He let the words settle and it was quiet in the cockpit for a time, apart from Grogu’s occasional babble, which was starting to sound concerningly more like actual words. Maker, forbid.

As he circled Tatooine and emerged into the inky blackness of space, you asked: “Where were we going to go?”

He grinned under the helmet. “I’d rather keep that a surprise for now, if that’s alright with you?” You probably knew anyways; you could probably guess.

You slept with him.

Not like that; you were both a little apprehensive with Grogu only metres away. The pram was closed, as was the door to the cot, but it was still new. Simply sharing a bed with Din, however, was just as nice.

He snored—albeit lightly—but it made you smile. He had tugged the helmet off once the kid was asleep and had let you run your fingers through his tamped-down hair. He had said you were fussing. You had told him to shut it. So he had fallen asleep with his head on your lap, a broad hand curled over your knee. He had bent his spine at an impossible angle, but you could wake and shift him as soon as you put this damn datapad down.

You were looking up Luke Skywalker, ‘doing your homework,’ as Din had said earlier in a gruff and sleepy voice. However, it had only worsened your nervousness. He was a hero, known across the galaxy for his role in the defeat of the Empire… of the Emperor. He stood against everything you were taught, a figure of unyielding good in the face of what was once impending darkness. Practically a deity. Would he loathe you? Because you might remind him of his past, what he fought against, what he lost. Or would he be sympathetic? Vader was his father, after all. Would he understand corruption, a turn to the dark for survival, because there was no other choice? Would he see you as someone who could be redeemed?

You sighed, sweeping a hand across your face. Your vision was starting to go unfocused, eyelids getting heavy as you fought against your own fatigue.

“Put it down,” he mumbled, squeezing your knee. “I can hear you overthinking; it woke me up.”

That made you laugh. “No, it didn’t. Liar.”

Din grunted and rose on his elbows, plucking the tech from your hands and depositing it in the makeshift hammock above. He then grabbed you by the hips and dragged you down, until you were flat on your back. You yelped. “Sleep.” It was a command.

You couldn’t have resisted even if you wanted to. Because he had caged you into him, arms winding around your waist and tightening. You melted to fit his body.

“Love you.” It was barely intelligible, just a string of syllables muttered into your neck, but it was enough. More than enough. It was everything.

“I love you, Din,” you replied. He hummed in satisfaction.

You left your worries behind for another night.

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