#MollyxReader

[saphirered]

So excited for this next set! The Autumn ones were amazing, even for the fandoms I wasn’t a part of! Could I put in a request for #5 with MollyxReader, wherever in the spice to fluff spectrum you are most comfortable?

Aww thank you! I'm excited to write them! I went with some light but cute spice for this one so hopefully it turned out the way you wanted. Thanks for requesting! 😘

Mollymauk Tealeaf has a strong dislike for the cold. He’d say he’s always done so, and that might be true. He cannot stand the feeling of his fingers and toes going numb where he cannot control when that feeling goes away. He doesn’t like the perpetual misery. He doesn’t like the shivers that make him tremble to the very bone like some twig in the breeze. But then again, he supposes he doesn’t mind the latter as much when you notice. He doesn’t mind when you sit next to him to share your blanket, or when you throw your cloak around his shoulders only to wrap your arms around his waist so you’re both covered by the warm fabric. It’s never truly the warmth of layers that brings him the comfort of warmth but instead it’s your presence, your body against his wether it be huddled up together on watch, or comfortably asleep when camp is set, and sometimes it’s only a second nature to you both, to engage in something more physically intimate to stay warm. He never minds the cold in those times. 

But just like him, you have your own chores to take care of. Sometimes he’d be able to get an out, or make a bargain to pass on his share to someone else but you, some annoying sense of duty and responsibility pushes you to always feel the need to see things through, to earn your salt in this circus even though you’ve done it a thousand times over. This means that whenever Molly has conflicting tasks, he cannot always be near you, and look to preserve what warmth his infernal blood does retain in this blasted weather. He has to resort to other means, which sometimes involve sulking at the nearest fire, getting the first and last bowls of soup, stew or broth or whatever mulled wine the others or he feel creative enough to risk experimenting with. It’s never truly enough. He needs you and he’ll patiently wait for you, dutifully so until you finish. 

Not many visitors in the dead of winter, when the snow sticks to the earth and the soil is too dense for anyone but the strongest to set up the tents. Wether it be through some minor magics able to circumvent this problem or through brute force, it needs to be done. The downside; it takes much longer for you to set up. The upside; Mollymauk can’t do much until camp is set and finishes any other tasks quickly. He’s been off gathering firewood for the better part of two hours now. Camp is set and people go back to finding warmth where they can, and preserve what they got. Molly still hasn’t returned so you decide to go looking wrapped in your cloak and a blanket and a slight annoyance that grows every time you see your breath upon the air when you exhale. You follow the tracks through the hills and scarce trees. 

It doesn’t take you too long. Perhaps fifteen minutes when you see the bastard, back towards you submerged to his chest in steaming water. He leans against the stones, arms balancing him on the ledge of this what you feel safe to assume must be a hot spring. His clothes lay abandoned atop the pile of twigs and branches; the firewood he was supposed to gather. You take care to not make a single noise feeling the need for some petty revenge. You throw off the blanket, gently and quietly let it fall near the edge of this spring, and kneel down. For good measure you place your hands into the snow, feeling that tingling cold, so freezing but so worth it for your evil plan and then, just as your fingers go numb, you glide them over his shoulders, upper chest and arms which you hold onto. 

“Fucking hells!” Molly exclaims as he tries to get away from that freezing touch but fails, his body locking up at the sudden change in sensation. He needs not look around to see who it is. He darn well knows it’s you, little devil you are. That giggle gives it away, and if it wasn’t that, it would be the tender lips but freezing that land against his warm cheek. Shivers. 

“So all of us have been freezing our asses off and you’ve been out here soaking away?” You scoff as finally he wrestles free of your grasp and swims just out of your reach. 

“I am so sorry, love. I must’ve lost track of time. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll help you set up camp and take over anyone’s chores for the rest of the day-“ He claims but anyone with the intention of making good on those empty promises would have made an effort to get out of the water while Molly just backs in further. You just shake your head and pinch your brow. 

“Oh my poor darling.” You muse as a wicked expression graces your features that has Mollymauk concerned and suspicious when you reach into the snow, cupping your hands together and next thing he knows cold hits him square in the face. Aghast he looks at you when he knows what hit him but then another hits him in the horn. He ducks underwater to avoid your next one and stays under but he can only hold his breath so long before he has to come back up and when he does; another hit. 

“Okay okay, you’ve had your fun. Are you done now?” He grumbles. You throw another but miss. “Don’t make me come over there.” He points a finger at you and you laugh, sit down on your blanket and make a ‘come here’ motion as you hold another snowball in your other hand. Slowly he nears, wary of another rude attack. You contain yourself and then when he’s at that ledge, where you’re at, he’s quick. Molly grasps your wrist forcing you to drop the snowball until it falls apart on the ground. You just look at him indifferent as he is up to his mid section out of the water. Instant regret. Goosebumps skitter across his skin as a shiver runs through him. 

“I propose a truce!” He sinks back down as much as possible while still holding onto your wrist but you could pull free at any moment. He doesn’t doubt you could have done so at any point. 

“I’m listening.” You decide to entertain the proposal mostly so, the closer you are to the water surface the more you are wishing yo be submerged too. In all honesty if it were you in his place, you’d likely have lost track of time too, wilfully or not. 

“How about, you join me in here, instead of pelting me in frigid cold?”

“As opposed to?”

“You staying out there, in the cold and watching me enjoy this hot spring all on by myself. I’m not getting out any time soon, and I don’t think you’ll be leaving without me?” He expects a witty comeback about how you’ve got no objections to leaving him here. He half expect you to get up without a word and take his clothes save for his boots and maybe his cloak if you’re feeling gracious. You entertain the thought it seems and he experiences a brief moment of fear but no regrets. You tap your chin. Turn halfway to look in the direction of the trees, and hills beyond you know lies the camp. 

“You make a compelling argument.” You state simply and Molly blinks a couple of times. That- that was much easier than he had thought. Without another word you begin to strip, carefully removing each layer until you’re standing on that blanket you brought, exposed to the air. Goosebumps skitter across your skin as you hold yourself. It’s that Molly’s committed your visage to memory that he needs not look twice to take in the beauty that you are because you allow yourself to sink into the spring fast, to engulf in the warmth. You moan and throw back your head as the heat eases your aching muscles and banishes the cold from your bones. 

The water rocks lightly signalling an approaching presence from behind. Then arms snake around your waist lightly and lips graze your shoulder. You tilt your head to the side to allow better access and those lips grace your neck with their presence until you can’t but let your body lean back and huddle into that warm presence behind you. A chuckle vibrates against your skin when you sigh deeply and relax. A tail wraps around your calf and curves up. Your fingers stop the ones just about to trail up your sternum while the other tugs on one of the silver chains dangling from his horns and draws the tiefling’s attention. He hums in acknowledgement but does not stop his kisses. He’s in a playful mood and is working very hard to extract whatever sounds you allow to slip past your lips. You find it difficult to speak and have to compose yourself when such deliberate attention is paid to you. Leave it to Mollymauk to know exactly what makes you tick. 

Devious little thing you are, you retaliate. Your fingers lace into his hair, trail along his horn and send shivers down his back, but worse is your other hand having let go of his and allowing him to continue that journey you let yours reach backward. Molly feels the pads of your fingers ever so lightly brush over his side, and his hips, curving along the muscle and bone and following the patterns of the ink etched into his skin without a need for sight but then that wicked hand moves between, slides closer to his abdomen, and lower, but never quite low enough. And then your touch does dwell lower, but past, and instead strokes along his thigh, his inner thigh as much as you can reach, always so careful to avoid that pulsing need. If you can let your hands wander low, so will he. Nails graze down your stomach and curl up and down your side causing you to tremble into him, but then they dance lower, around the apex of your thighs, along that tender skin, daring to graze ever so lightly but never quite touching. Two can play this game. He notices how your breath catches when he ‘accidentally’ dares to brush past. He notices how you back into him, and how you slip up sometimes, your touch reaching just where you know he needs you. Right when he thinks you’re about to break, when he thinks he’s got you, you push away from his body slightly, still within his arms but a few inches between your bodies as you turn to face him. Your hands retract and he thinks he might have died right then and there. 

“Oh my poor darling.” You hum ever so sweet. Molly hangs onto your every word, completely out of mind. So out of mind he misses the wickedness in your eyes. “You really don’t to well with the cold, do you?” You let your fingers trail along his neck and shoulders, over his chest and sides and stomach back and forth up and down slowly and sensually. You even dare place your lips on his for a slow but feverish kiss. 

“I got you to warm me up.” He states cockily and you chuckle, brushing away a stray lock of hair when he goes in to kiss you but you stop him from doing so, thumb stroking along his cheek as you give him a pitied look. Your palm lays flat against his chest as you urge him backwards, until his legs hit the back of the rock carveout he lounged upon before. 

“So why don’t I?” Your knees on either side of his thighs burn into him like the fires of Avernus itself. You’re so close, you sit back on his lap so sweetly, that wicked hand between the two of you again and again he feels it dance over his abdomen, that familiar path lower and finally you show him mercy, to some capacity at least. You brush your fingers alone along him, over the tip and he moans your name. You do it again as his hands grip your thighs, nails digging into your flesh as you work him up. You kiss him, then his cheek and ear where your lips linger.

“Why don’t I warm you up…” Those words are like a blessing of the gods themselves. “Back at the camp.” The gods are cruel. 

You pull away entirely before he has a moment to respond or even comprehend what happened. You lift yourself out of the hot spring, shivers hitting you instantly but you’re quick to put on some clothes. Not your own clothes mind you. It’s his shirt you throw on over your own, and just as he had feared, you are dressed quickly, take your belongings, take the firewood and leave not but his boots, his own coat and the blanket. Thank the gods you left that blanket. 

“You are a cruel, cruel creature.” It might as well have been a curse but you relish in it as you look at him so indifferently. You lean down when he turns to you. You kiss his crown and back off along the path you had taken here. 

“Come find me at the camp.” You blow him a kiss and wander off. 

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He calls after you. 

“Shout any louder and the others will come looking for you. Think about your dignity.” You tease back equally loud. 

“Oh you know I never had any dignity to begin with.” He retorts and the only reply of yours is your clear laughter. Molly is not upset. If anything he’s smiling. Sure you did him dirty, worked him up all nice and good but it’s not like he hasn’t done the same to you a thousand times before. It never gets boring. He loves you for a good reason. You always know how to keep him on his toes. 

[writers-blogck]

A New Adventure Begins ( Mollymauk Tealeaf x Reader ) 02

Warning(s): This will not follow the storyline completely for the second season of Critical Role. This story is more like the characters being placed in a different situation. Also, this story is inspired heavily by mollymaymaukme.tumblr.com/. Go read their stories about Molly. They are so good! Title: A New Adventure Begins Number in Series: Two Pairing: Mollymauk Tealeaf x Reader Fandom: Critical Role Word Count: 3,258

Song

  Panic filled you as your eyes were blinded by a bright light. This wasn't some fire or light spell, it was so bright! You had never seen something so bright! What if your eyes had something wrong with them? Were you going blind?! You stood up, feeling as if you were being strangled by something. Stumbling around, you attempted to open your eyes but it hurt too much. The light burned your eyes any time you tried to open the, What was going on? You couldn't breathe, you were freaking out. Magic seemed to pop against your skin in your confused state. Were you dying? What was going on? As you struggled, the jacket fell over your eyes, keeping out the light.    "Whoa, whoa, calm down! You're okay! If you keep freaking out, those feet of yours are gonna end up getting burned." Strong arms wrapped around you, steadying you back on your feet. A hand pulled the coat away, causing you to let out a squeal of pain and thrash your arms to cover your eyes again. The jacket had become almost like a blindfold, protecting your eyes from the us. When it was removed, the bright sun attacked your eyes once again.    "Molly, get her in the cart," The thick male accent spoke.    You could feel the gentle arms of Molly (presumably) move you in a direction that you couldn't tell. With every tentative step, your heart beat faster. Why did the light hurt your eyes so much? Large yet thin hands grabbed your waist and see you up on a hard surface. Instinctively, you pushed yourself away from the edge, pulling your knees as close to your chest as possible. How could you protect yourself when you couldn't even see? It was obvious to the others how you were similar to a wild animal, resorting to the basic aspects of the brain.    The wagon shifted as new weight was added. A pair of hands grabbed your own, slowly pulling them away from your eyes. You squinted as you opened your eyes, allowing them to be open just enough to test the waters. The inside of the wagon was dark enough to keep your eyes from being in pain. In front of you was the purple tiefling, holding your hands in his. His red eyes stared at you in what you would call concern, though it was hard to tell without pupils. The dirty man walked forward, bending down to look you in your eyes.    "Caleb, use that big brain of yours and tell me what is going on!"    "I believe because she has been in the Underdark for so long with drow caused her eyes to become adjusted to the dark. They are unaccustomed to the sunlight due to not being exposed to it for so long. She will need time to adjust again."    You totally forgot about the sun, which sounded like such a stupid thing but was true. With how long you were underground, you had forgotten about the sun and it became nothing more of a distant memory. You had escaped during the night when everything was simply illuminated by the moon. Before, you were just used to things being brightened up by fire. All you needed was to be able to see your work before, your captors kept most enjoyments or simple pleasures out of your life. It had just been another way they decided to make your life even worse.    "So, she can't see?" The blue tiefling asked, placing two bedrolls in the wagon, purple eyes moving to watch your form.    "Nein, it just means bright lights will hurt her eyes for a bit while they get used to such a bright environment."    "Oh good, because we don't need to worry about her being blind. That would totally suck." -*-    The party packed up the wagon and were moving toward their next destination, taking you like extra cargo. You sat almost exactly in the middle on the right side, keeping the sun from affecting your eyes. As you watched the forest and road pass behind you, a dull ache filled your eyes. How long had it been since you had last seen the sun? The thought filled your stomach with unpleasant feelings. So much of your life has been wasted because of those terrible people. It just wasn't fair, but there was nothing you could do about it now.    Fjord had decided he would drive the wagon with the help of Beau. Molly and Jester were in charge of guarding and watching out for anything suspicious. Nott was messing with a bunch of buttons while Caleb had his nose stuck in a book. Everything seemed normal between the group and your felt like a sore thumb. With every simple posture change or quiet sigh, at least three pairs of eyes followed you. How you wished your magic could just turn you invisible so all their eyes would just go away.    "So, like, you never gave us a name or anything. I'm Jester."    Your eyes trailed up, able to really get a good look at the group who decided to help you. The one speaking to you seemed to be young, at least at heart anyway. Her skin was a light blue with curious eyes that were a mix of purple, pink, and blue. Freckles littered her face like stars, something you rarely saw. Since freckles were caused by the sun, no one got them down below. Your skin tone must have looked sickly when compared to those around you now. Perhaps a glimpse of yourself would be too much at the moment. You felt disgusting and knew that you must look that way as well.    "Spark, uh, wait no," You shook your head, eyes narrowing in confusion, "that was what they called me. My name is....(Y/N)."    "(Y/N)..." Jester seemed to test the name in her mouth before continuing, "Well, welcome to the Mighty Nein, like N-E-I-N. That is a word that Caleb uses, the bookworm. Nott is the goblin over there but she is very nice. She is a package deal with Caleb, they go everywhere together. Fjord is the green guy, he is pretty chill. He pukes up water sometimes, like the kind from the sea. Beau is up there with him, she is grumpy but she means well most of the time. And then that leaves Molly, the other tiefling."    "Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service." The red eyes winked, the same ones that had charmed you last night. You wouldn't let it happen again.    You weren't shocked that Molly was the one that had charmed you last night. Everything about the man made you feel like he was twisting his words, with or without the use of his magic. A deep cut white shirt reached down his torso, slightly covered by his even more extravagant jacket. He was a carny, you didn't even need to ask about that. The drow liked to kidnap those from the carnival, no many to miss them. Were you part of the circus when you were younger? All you could remember before the dark was a pair of golden eyes shining down at your tiny form.    The lilac skin of Molly was covered in tattoos, though in the dark of the wagon and with some bits covered, it was impossible to tell what they were. Your eyes drifted up to study the man's face. Good features for a tiefling. Everything you had heard of them made them seem so much like devil creatures, with hideous faces and terrifying horns. Yet, there were two of them who both had pretty features. A smug grin rested on Molly's lips, just showing a hint of a white fang. When your eyes met his own, you quickly shifted your gaze. Has he noticed you studying him? Oh, Gods...    "So you were a slave. Did you smash rocks?" Nott squeaked out, her tone wavering. She held a flask in her tiny hand, obviously not caring about how early in the morning it was to be drinking.    "Nott..." Caleb's voice spoke up but he didn't even spare a glance from his book.    "No, I didn't do much manual labor. They often kept me inside one of the cages until they needed me. Most of my time was spent doing nothing and just sitting in the dirt."    "And what did they need you for, if you don't mind me asking?" Jester was watching you, her eyes filled with interest. Your own stared down at your dirty feet. You knew she meant no harm in asking but it was hard to think about the life you had just escaped.    When you thought back to your tasks, you just thought of pain. Never whips or arrows; though you had been hit by both but never during your tasks. No, the pain came from deep within when they used you. It was a terrible burning, only explainable by every molecule or piece of you being stretched like a rubber band. It never even caused external harm, everything was inside. Your soul, or something, was grabbed and pulled. You vowed to never have to feel that way again.    "I well, they used me more like a power source for their spells. It was like they reached deep within me and took pieces of me, my spiritual being, and then used it to power rituals. They would put me back in the cage to charge up again and heal inside before they would use me again. That happened for years, I stopped counting the years after it hit ten."    "Oh..."    A thick tension blanketed the entire wagon as you finished speaking. Your past was heavy and you had no clue how other people would react to hearing about it. What if someone wanted to use you in the same way? Would these people try to use you in some way as well? You would rather die than be put through that again. These people could take you to where they would use you and you wouldn't know. You had to put your trust in these people, even though it could end terribly. Your life was resting in their hands.    A fuzzy feeling brought you back into reality from your the panic attack that had been building in your mind. A cat, tabby in color, nudged your thigh with its head before it curled up so its body was pressed against you. Purrs reverberated and you could feel it again your leg. Without knowing, a small smile found its way to your face as you placed a hand on the war fur. The feeling and sounds were very grounding.    "That is Frumpkin, he is Caleb's familiar. He totally won't care if you're dirty or whatever. He chills with Caleb all the time so,"    "Jester," Molly gave a warning look to the girl.    "What?! She is dirty! She definitely knows it. No worries though, when we get to the tavern, we can totally have a girl's night to get her all clean and whatever."    Molly and Jester began to speak about what would happen when the party reached the next town. You couldn't remember the name of the town that they had said they were going to. Just as you began to tune out their voices, Caleb glanced up from his book. He offered you a kind look and a gentle shake of his head before he moved his focus back on his book again. This must be something that happened quite often. There was no anger or fear as they argued, which was a strange thing for you. Any hint of aggression was dealt with violence from where you were from. It was reassuring to hear a conversation like this that wouldn't end up with blood on the ground.    Outside, nature passed by with trees on both sides of the road. Birds chirped and sun their melodies. Even though it may be sore to watch the passing scenery, you couldn't help yourself. It had been so long since you had breathed fresh air or seen green trees. Below there had only been different rocks and mushrooms. There had been no real color other than monochromes and purple. Not even hints of greens and blues existed down below. It was amazing to see them again after so long. You hadn't been able to enjoy everything last night because of how scared you were. Perhaps it was the cat but those thoughts seemed so far away right now. All you could focus on was the beauty of the world all around outside.    What you didn't know was how a pair of red eyes seemed to be studying everything you were doing. There was such a wonder on your face. There was a beauty hidden under all the dirt and muck that covered your face. IT shone through the sparkles in your eyes and the slight incline of the edges of your lips. Molly became lost in thought as he watched your every movement, not even trying to hide his gaze from the rest of the party.    After an hour or so passed, a soft think against the side of the wagon brought everyone out of their dazes. You quickly looked around, eyes wide as everyone jumped into action. The wagon shook as both Fjord and Beau jumped down from the steering bench, reacting to the action.    "Attack! Guess we shouldn't have left you two keep watch, huh?!" Beau shouted, grunts and thuds already starting outside. As soon as the word attack left Beau's mouth, the rest of the party got to their feet. Nott jumped out, sliding under the cart to get a look at what was going on. Caleb and Hester followed suit, A gentle hand rested on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.    "Stay here, we have this under control."    The noises only louder and louder as time went by. Shouts of pain and grunts filled the air, making it hard to tell which side was winning. Fear began to fill your entire body as well as the sparkles from before. You couldn't just sit here and let them die. A shout of Caleb's name was your final push for your decision as you grabbed a light scarf to wrap around your eyes. Could you help them in one way or another/ Worst case scenario was that you would need to ditch the rest of the group. Your bare feet stung as they made contact with the dirt road. It was hard to see but you were able to make out basic objects and silhouettes. Blood stained the ground a rust color where Caleb had fallen to the ground,    A group of around twenty bandits had jumped out from the woods, hidden by the thick leaves. Your heart races as you took in everything; with Caleb down that meant there were four bandits to each person if that didn't include you. Fjord and Jester were both attacking with magic, Nott delivering sneak attacks, and Molly was skillfully using his curved swords. Each had only killed one person each that still meant that there were three each. Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what you should do. If only your brain could work just as fast as your eyes which scanned the environment.    "Hey, one was hiding in the wagon!" A gruff voice shouted, his rough hand grasping your upper arm. Panic was beginning to set in now, it felt like fire sparks were exploding inside of you now. With how loud the fighting was, you doubted that anyone was able to hear what the man had said. Still, he began to drag your smaller frame forward. No matter how hard you struggled, he was still the stronger of you two. It looked like he was going to take you off the path and into the woods again. You couldn't let that happen.    "Let me go!" Your feet planted down in the dirt, heels digging in. First resort, distraction and wasting time. Ever since you were young, you knew you were weak. The easiest and most reliable way to get out of trouble was to get as much time as you could so you could wait for some type of help to arrive. Others would be able to do what you couldn't.    "Shut up bitch!" The trees were getting closer. Resort two was to flee. You may not be able to fight well but you were extremely fast and nimble. It was too late to try to flee, which meant that only left resort three.  It was your last resort and you only prayed that it would work. Resort three had only worked once or twice in the past when you had tried to do it. What else could you do though?    "Let me go!" Your voice boomed against the trees as you shouted, freehand sweeping over the area where the enemies were located. Everyone, including those on your side, turned to see what had happened, all in the same state of confusion. They were greeted by the sight of you with your hand outstretched, the scarf slowly floating down, no longer tied to keep out some of the sunlight. You had glowing golden eyes, which would have been a beautiful sight except for the rage and fear filled look on your face. Even your allies were scared of you at the moment. They couldn't figure out what was going on with you.    Before your enemies could react, the ground beneath them rumbled. Sharp shoots of tree trunks, limbs, and branches shot up through the ground, growing around and impaling all of the enemies. Screams filled the air as your fist clenched, causing the limbs to tighten in and against their victims. The trees themselves were beautiful with purple and white flowers decorating them, a hard contrast against the blood that now was dripping from the wounds. Then, as soon as the limbs were there, they vanished, leaving the bodies to topple to the ground with a heavy hep.    "What the fuck was that?!" Beau shouted all eyes turned to your trembling form.    Her voice was the last thing you heard before you tumbled to the ground as well, body returning back to normal. -*-    "Jester, you go and check on Caleb, I've got her!" Molly rushed over to your crumbled up form. As he checked your pulse, he was reassured that you had simply fainted. His arms cradled your body as he walked back to the wagon. Your head lolled to the side and fell against his chest, eyes shut. He was glad that you couldn't tell how scared he was from his heartbeat.    "How do we know we can trust her?" Nott spoke up, kneeling next to Jester and Caleb, who was slowly starting to stir once again.    "She saved us, didn't she?"    "Come on now, we got to give her a chance. We'll figure out what is going on when she wakes up and then we can decide what we should do," Fjord offered, as he always seemed to be the most level headed one.    Molly sat down in the wagon, cradling your head in his lap. His tail curled around to rest against the back on your hand, doing it more for him than yourself. This couldn't be the end for you, it simply wouldn't be fair. Straight from the drow and now this? It seemed like you had simply fainted due to over-exhaustion, or at least that was what he hoped.

[saphirered]

Would a Mollyxreader be possible where they briefly had a relationship when the circus passed through the reader’s hometown, but when they meet again in Trostenwald and the M9 forms, neither acknowledges that they know each other until the first night in Alfield. Molly has his drink and panic attack. The reader goes down too because they just saw Molly get shot and have emotions about it. Some combination of angst, fluff, and pda ensues

Hope this turned out how you hoped! Sorry for the wait. Currently going through all the requests assembled outside of the autumn prompts. 😘

The memory replays in Mollymauk's head, over and over. No amount of drink can quell this but he can certainly try. If he’s knocked out cold, he can’t think about this, can he? That’s reasonable logic, is it not? Not at all but that won’t stop him from doing it anyway. He blinks and again it flashes; pain spreads through his body. Arrow strikes true. He’s been injured plenty of times, has lost consciousness plenty too, but never so close to death. The suffocating earth burns in his lungs again. His eyes wander, searching for anything, anyone to show him he’s not alone, this is not history repeating itself, this won’t end in him digging himself out of yet another grave, if at all. When his eyes land on you he wish he hadn’t seen. You look at him in horror. The world turns to slow motion. You shout his name and when you try to run to him, escape the attacks of the creatures that attack you, you only manage to dodge the first, but the second rakes across your abdomen, and that’s that. You drop. Still with your last strength you try to crawl over to him, bleeding and broken, but then the blade stabs down into you once more and you are unmoving, hand stretched towards him. Your eyes close, brow furrowed in pain before you go limp. Had he the strength left to shout or cry, he would have but he feels himself slip from consciousness too. And then he returns to the tavern, pulled out of that vision again when you sit next to him. 

“So what number of drink is this and how many do I need to catch up?” You make yourself as comfortable as possible. Still Molly sees the violent of blood, ash and dirt, the holes in your clothes show the bandages beneath. Even with magical healing did you need more extensive wound care. You’re out of the thick of it so that’s good at least but you’ll need another boost in the morning once the resident healer has had time to recover. 

“None of your business, and none.” He answers swinging back the contents of his cup. “You should not be drinking right now.” First time ever he’s the voice of reason here. You roll your eyes and order a drink anyway. It was worth a try. 

“I’ll just take a guess then. We did just almost die.” There’s humour in your voice but it’s morbid and he comes to realise this is your way of coping. He sees the tremble in your hand as you lift the mug of ale. He sees it in his own hands too. Breathing is more difficult and Molly wonders; do you feel it too? He waits for you to finish your drink and order another while he nurses a refill of his own and thinks. 

He knows if he’s dead that might be it. Does he want to go? Hell no but death is part of life and he’d be a fool if he wasn’t going to fight tooth to nail to stay. That’s within his control but when he saw you fall… When that blade stabbed through your back and he swore he saw the light leave your eyes, he has never been more terrified of death in his life. This is all too much. This violence. Perhaps he is not meant for adventure. Stories are fine. Pretending in the circus is too but this is real. This is very very real. These are real people and not some strangers. He might have just met them but he cares about them. And then there’s you. He’s not spoken the words and neither have you so he doubts the others know of your previous involvement. You’ve not given them a reason to figure it out. It’s been strange but what short-lived romance he shared with you, he’s come to realise runs much deeper than he thought. He thought he could separate it, thought he could leave it in the past, if only to see if you’re still the same people, or how different you’ve become, but he can’t separate you from his past, from you now. He cares. He cares very much and the thought of losing you, especially because you tried to save him, that is too big a burden to bear upon his heart. He’s been wasting enough time. 

Molly feels lightheaded, bends over the bar holding onto the cup in his hands so tight his fingers begin turning lilac. His breathing is strained and he trembles. Then he feels a gentle palm hesitantly lay against his back, another pulls the cup from his iron grip and replaces it with a warm hand. He holds on tight, not crushing, stills somewhat mindful of his strength and the fact this hand belongs to another, to you. You tell him to breathe. You tell him all will be well. You whisper sweet nothings. You sit closer to him and he is thankful for your warmth because he feels so incredibly cold. You have him sit up, have him focus on you and while he has some trouble to not let his mind slip and wander, you succeed in keeping him grounded. You never once let go of him as you stabilise his breathing until the lightheadedness fades enough to no longer feel like he’ll pass out any second now. Still his breath is somewhat shallow and the tremble remains, you force a smile. 

“How about some fresh air?” It’s not quite an order but it’s definitely more than a suggestion. His lungs burn at the thought of an open space, where he does not feel confined. When did this place start feeling so heavy? You wrap an arms round him, let his drape across your shoulders. Despite Molly’s insistence he’ll be fine, you ignore him and he’s thankful because the moment his feet touch solid ground, he loses his balance and you catch him. You give him a look as if to say ‘I told you so’ and Molly cannot even find it within himself to argue or counter with some witty remark. You begin guiding him outside, through the back because neither of you feel like setting foot in that street again. The smouldering fires still remain, as does the gore and blood and you do not need a reminder of everything that happened just an hour ago. 

“How-how are you?” Molly once he feels comfortable he can stand on his own two legs takes up residence at some of the empty supply crates set against the wall as you pace. He doesn’t know why he asked the question and is already quite certain he knows the answer.

“Just peachy.” You deign a sarcastic eye roll. Molly snorts. Should have known. “You?” He thinks. How is he doing? Terrible would be the short answer. The long answer, he doesn’t know how to put words to that. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders sinking. In an instance you’re at his side, your hand on his shoulder, the other lacing with his. He’s thankful for you, for your attention and your care.

“Why are you so good to me?” It’s a genuine question but he didn’t intend to speak these words aloud. You again force a half smile. 

“Because months ago a man living larger than life walked into my hometown and told me he liked leaving every place better than he found it. And I thought, a man like that may have known few kind things from the world beyond the circus tent. Perhaps that could be changed.” You reminisce to all those times, when you grew closer, to something more. You recall the intricacies, and how Molly made you feel wanted and alive. When you’re with him you’re not a victim to the whims of this world, of other. When you’re with him you make your own fate. To see that same man right now, scared of something you cannot begin to comprehend. He never felt like he needed to know every single detail to understand. Neither do you. That doesn’t make this any less frightening. 

“A wise man. Handsome too, he must be.” Molly finds his humour. You bump your shoulder into his and shake your head. That forced smile turns into a true one, and a giggle even escapes your lips. That’s what brings joy back to his mind. It’s so easy. It’s so easy loving you. He’s been trying to ignore it for a while, after all he left with the circus but you’d known even back then one day he would stay, and you would remain. You were given a second chance and look what you two had done with it? You’ve been dancing around each other, been denying that you were once more than familiar and instead opted for being strangers. And for what? 

“Very handsome. And boisterous. Enigmatic yet an open book. A true charmer too. Anyone would be a fool to not fall for that philanderer.” You lift your fingers to his chin but he brushes them away and angles to fully face you, eyes filled with judgement and jaw dropped. 

“Philanderer? Excuse you! I pride myself on my charm but I will not take judgement from your hedonistic arse, thank you very much!” He scoffs crossing his arms. You cup his cheeks and Molly forces himself to not lean into your touch. 

“You’ve had plenty of positive opinions of my ‘hedonistic arse’ in the past. Something changed?” You muse. His hands land over yours and pull them from his cheeks, instead lacing with yours, playing with your fingers, brushing along every callous, cut and scrape. 

“I suppose your hedonistic arse has its charms.” He sways. “Does that make you feel better?” 

“Does it make you feel better?” You retort. 

“If I said yes can we forget us being fools and will you let me kiss you?” A bold spark of confidence. He caught it, and used it and when you chuckle, he’s afraid he might have made the wrong move, that he might have ruined it or you weren’t on the same page. When he feels your lips against his, any doubt in his mind disappears. It’s a short and sweet peck but in that moment Molly truly realises what he’s missed and knows; he doesn’t want to miss out on any of this anymore. He’ll take every second he can get because time spent with you is never wasted. 

“Just a kiss? Did you leave that creativity in Trostenwald?” He nudges that spot just below your ribs, at your side that has you double over instantly. You catch yourself onto him and retaliate, still mindful of both your injuries, but whatever pressure there was, seems to have disappeared and been replaced by this familiar comfort. You’ll have your tough times and so will he but you’re here for each other. When you can’t brave the world, he’ll hold your hand. When he feels abandoned, he’ll know that no matter what he’ll have you at his side. Not a moment is wasted.