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uplatterme · 1 year

Note

aether and kaveh look like disney princesses i wanna fuck the shit out of

there is no need for elaboration

-🪸

—okay. you’ve got me hooked. rapunzel!aether in part 2! (tba)

—cinderella!kaveh/royalty!reader, sub!bottom!kaveh/top!dom!reader, amab!reader (referred with they/them pronouns) | cinderella au, semi-public sex, quickie, clothed sex, cum as lube, porn with actual plot (don’t let the tags fool u, this is so fucking soft)

You completely regret hosting this party.

It was something that your advisor had tasked you to do. Host a party, find a suitable partner, get an heir so the kingdom has someone to depend on, blah blah blah.

It’s not like you were even that old.

You sigh, a cigarette on your lips as you lay your back on the wall of the balcony. So many folks festering you, for that chance that you’ll somehow hand them their crown.

Your head aches at the number of conversations you have had to endure just to be polite, the amount of times you’ve had to shake off someone from hugging your arm without your consent.

“Oh, fuck!” You hear someone yelp.

And while the owner of this voice sounds overly anxious, you can’t help but want to hear it again, especially with the polite wording that the attendees have used to butter you up. someone swearing right in front of you catches your interest.

Hands reach the bottom of the balcony, and someone lifts their body up to get on the platform.

“Oh god, why is the entrance so crowded?” The person says.

Your ears perk up at that.

“Well, their highness did host it. it’s been a while since such an event has happened.” You answer.

The figure flinches, turning their attention to you.

Your mouth gapes as you finally see who that voice belonged to. Everything about him is enticing that you can’t help but to drown in his gaze.

He’s properly dressed as well, although not anything overwhelming to the eyes.

Now, which family had been hiding such a prince from you?

“Ah sorry, I didn’t realize someone was here.” He quickly apologizes. His cheeks flush, not expecting someone to catch him climbing up a balcony.

“You’re more than welcome to stay.” You offer, craving more of him.

He shakes his head, much to your disappointment.

“I’m actually here for something else.” he says.

You hum. “Also aiming for the heart of their highness, then?”

Take it, unknown prince.

“What?! N-No, not at all!” He screams in reply. “I mean, I'd be flattered if their highness even finds me a bit intriguing.”

“Have you met them?” You ask.

“Oh. I haven’t really got the time for that.” He answers, although he seems to be in a melancholy thought when he does.

Still, you breathe at his beauty. You think you can stare at him for your whole life.

You quickly try to change the topic.

“So, what are you here for?”

He points behind you.

You turn your head back but what faces you is nothing but the empty hallway.

“Sorry?” You question.

“The castle.”

His answers just keep surprising you.

He blushes, rubbing his arm as he paces around the small space of the balcony.

“You’re interested in the architecture?”

As soon as you mention that, he brightens up. “Yes! From what I've seen, it’s alright.”

You feel offended. It is your castle, one for which you’ve decided most of the structure. He seems to notice his mistake as he panics.

“But don’t tell anyone that! Especially not their highness…”

You grin.

“Perhaps, the inside can change your mind?”

“Inside? I don’t think we’re allowed—”

“If we don’t get caught, it’s fine, right?”

“Yes, but—”

You grab the stranger’s hand and lead him inside, he stumbles in after you, the warmth in your hand startling him.

You bring him into different rooms, hoping that one of them will at least suit his taste.

“This?”

“It’s a bit cramped, the furniture set is going against the wallpaper.”

You roll your eyes, he’s so damn picky. That, or you’re just really bad at interior decorating.

Still, you smile at every single word he says. Being royalty, you have no damn clue what he’s saying. But with that pretty voice of his, you could listen to it for hours.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh? What if their highness were merely shown bad choices by their architects?” You say, hoping that wouldn’t risk the random attendee persona that you’re playing at the moment.

“If that’s true, they should’ve fired those architects.” He states confidently.

You laugh. “And what, hire you instead?”

He purses his lips, he didn’t expect you to get that so easily.

He stays silent.

“Do you want to?” You ask.

“Get hired?” The look on his face is so innocent like he can’t even believe that you’re asking such a thing. As if the answer is painfully obvious.

You shake your head.

“To build a castle.”

He stares at you dumbfounded. His eyes glimmer as he grabs your hands and does so aggressively. You don’t mind even a second of it.

“Are you fucking crazy? T-That’s like my dream!” He admits. He’s smiling widely, his face nothing but only a few centimeters away from you.

He starts babbling about the materials he’ll make it with, the different types of rooms and decorations he’ll add. He’s so damn fascinating, you don’t even care about the speech that you’re supposed to give by midnight.

It’s like he has planned this for a long time. Everything he says is so intricate. His hands move as if he’s drawing it, he’s a bit shaky but it’s obvious that it’s from excitement. To your amazement, the way he describes everything makes it seem as if you’re actually in that castle in your head.

Once he realizes how much he’s talking, he stutters an apology.

“Sorry! It’s just that no one has ever asked me about this, I mean at home I—”

“Okay. I’ll give that to you.” You reply genuinely, your eyes are focused on his soft lips.

His chest heaves and his golden eyelashes flutter with grace…just looking at you.

“You know that’s impossible. I’m not even a professionally licensed architect.”

“It’s not.”

You’ll make it happen, even if your advisor goes against it. It doesn’t matter if you have to demolish the entire castle you’re in right now.

“It is! You’re just flattering me, I get it. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, but you don’t have to promise and lie to about such things.”

“I mean it.” You say it so sternly that he almost starts believing it.

He sighs deeply. “Going to this party is already a dream come true. There was this little green fairy with white hair, I—”

The words slip out of your mouth, cutting off whatever stupid things he has to say.

“Meeting you is a dream come true.”

The next few moments are a blur. Your hands are all over the unknown stranger. Fuck, it’s as if you’ve been hit with a love spell. You want to keep kissing his mouth, tell him that he has nothing to worry about when you’re with him. That you’ll do anything he asks.

Your prince whines and the sound has you going insane.

You want more.

You’ve gotten so addicted easily that your mind is insatiable.

It doesn’t matter that the room is left unlocked, no one is going to keep your hands off him.

“Hah—God!” He breathes enticingly. His mind is so hazy, so weak at how his heart is pounding each second.

You take off his coat, the clothing echoes as it falls down on the floor. His blouse is silk and you swear you can see the way his chest is lined underneath the white cloth.

Your fingers rubbed his hardened nipples and his entire body shivers. He holds onto your shoulders for support, the aroused moan that escapes his throat is just enough for you to keep doing it, and so you do.

“W-Wait! I-I’ll—” He pushes you for a moment, to take a breath as he slowly composes himself.

You watch him impatiently. You can see how his cock twitches from his tight pants, the wet spot in the center, and his dick dripping from precum as the white liquid seeps through it.

You keep your hands inside your pocket. Despite how your pants are perfectly fitted for you, your cock is begging for warmth, specifically from the blonde stranger in front of you.

He then nods.

“I’m okay…we can continue.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any—”

“I can take it. It’s fine.” He says as if he’s in a hurry. You’re not sure if it's just because he’s needy or if it’s something else.

You still indulge in his wants, however.

You’ll have to make do with his own fluids although you really don’t want to do anything that’ll hurt him.

Your fingers steadily prepare his walls and you’re trying your best to not be greedy. His needs first, more than anything.

He’s so damn tight, not that you need to worry much as the sounds he’s making are signaling everything but pain.

He’s so soft and so perfect that you’re starting to get jealous of even your own fingers.

“Are you..?”

He nods, and desire fills his eyes. It looks like you’re not the only one getting impatient.

When you finally feel his insides with your cock, the expectations you had were completely blown out of the water. Your hands find their way to his waist and it’s perfect.

The first thrust is enough to send you to heaven.

“Keep going.” He pleads.

You continue to pound into him, enjoying how each one brings out a soft mewl from the blonde.

His cock is dripping white on the floor, and the carpet gets soaked. You know you need to get that replaced but instead, you want to keep the stain there, as if some kind of trophy.

And while you stir up his insides, a familiar noise bothers your ears.

You don’t let it even phase you, enjoying the pleasure that’s eating you up.

However, your prince decides otherwise.

“H-Hold on! What was that—”

“Just the clock. You don’t need to bother yourself with it.”

A groan escapes your throat, feeling how he tenses up all of the sudden.

“Is it twelve?” He asks.

“N-No, but it’s close. Five more minutes.”

“I need to go.” He says.

No way was he leaving you like this.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry, but I—” His words are cut off by his moaning.

The way you fill him up has him salivating. You didn’t even move but god, his walls clenching on you are betraying his choices right now.

“T-Three minutes.” He whimpers out.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers feel up his cock, stroking it up and down while still continuing to pound ruthlessly. He continues to scream out, his mind too overwhelmed from getting his ass and cock ravaged at the same time.

His legs quiver and you have to hold him still. You’re both close and you’ll make sure to have him finish in time at least.

“F-Fuck!” He sobs.

And the worries in your head disappear, cumming inside his walls as he splatters more onto the carpet.

You sigh, your chest thumping as you stand there with your clothes a mess.

He quickly slides off you, trembling but still hastily moving as if the adrenaline has gotten into his head.

“I-I’m so sorry, I’ll try to get in contact with you again. I swear!” He stammers out before fixing his clothes, nearing the doorway.

“Don’t go through the balcony! There’s an exit to the right of this room!” You say, helping him out despite your wishes to keep him here.

“Thanks!” He shouts back.

You swipe the sweat on your forehead, zipping your pants back on.

The clock chimes as it signals it’s midnight. What a fucking way to end the night.

You hear rushed steps from the hallway.

Your attention turns to the door. Did he come back?

Your disappointment is immeasurable when you find out it’s just your advisor.

“Your highness! I’ve been looking everywhere, you’re late for your speech—Oh my god, what did you—No, who did you?!” She looks disappointed.

You look down. Ah, right.

Who?

Oh fuck, you never got his name.

“I didn’t ask. Oh no.” The realization slowly sets in.

“Excuse me?!” Your advisor answers offended by your words. You can tell how stressed she’s been, her teal hair in a mess.

“I’ll be right there. Let me clean up first, Ma’am”

“I’ll get everyone distracted. Jeez, young ones these days!” She says before rushing away.

The urge to punch the wall in front of you right now is high.

You look at the floor and notice the coat on the floor.

It smells just like him.

You lay your head on the cold table, mind filled with everything but your duties. The only thing that’s engraved in there is nothing but the sweet prince you met a while ago.

But no matter how many times you’ve gone through portraits of different royal families, even going through the nobles, you’re not met with a match.

“Your Highness. I see you’ve been distracted again.”

“Madame Faruzan, I cannot do this anymore.” You tell her wholeheartedly.

Your advisor rolls her eyes.

“Right after I caught you and that whole mess, you should be working.”

“He’s a great guy! He’s skilled with his hands.” You argue with her.

“I do not need to hear what he did with you.”

“That’s not what I meant! He’s an architect, he’s good! I’ve heard how he works, I’ll vouch for him.”

“You’re biased. Something that a ruler should not have. I told you this when you were younger.” She warns you.

It seems that she won’t hear you out no matter how hard you try.

“I really cannot focus.” You say.

It’s the truth. You’ve been sleeping with that coat for weeks, along with other things. As if it’s actually him to begin with.

“If he’s such a great architect, then why don’t you work with that?”

An idea enters your head.

“Ma’am, you’re a genius.”

“Of course.” She says confidently with a smile.

She shakes the compliment off, lord knows she's the smartest person you’ve ever met.

“So? What’s your verdict?” She asks.

A day after, a letter was sent out to the people of your kingdom.

Needless to say, everyone was freaking out.

“Goodness, that’s a big deal. Isn’t it?”

“Right! That’s a big opportunity.”

The entire market was in an uproar as Kaveh shops for his family. He couldn’t care any, especially not with the consequences he faced from being caught out late in the night. They never knew that he went to the party, but he’s sure his snarky scholar of a step-sibling knows.

“Oh, Kaveh.” A friendly face greets him.

“Miss Nilou.”

She smiles at him,

“Are you participating?”

The confused face of Kaveh is enough for Nilou to shake the soul out of him.

“You have to! Their highness is currently looking for an architect to turn the whole castle into something new!”

Kaveh’s eyes widen. “…Actually?”

“Yes! Oh, you have to hurry! It’s only up till today!” She brings it up, and Kaveh rushes home as fast as he can.

It’s almost like a dream come true.

First, that little green fairy that gave him the opportunity to attend the party in the first place. Then, that person he met at the said party who he flushes at every time he thinks of them. And now, this?

He almost tears the whole place down from searching for his plates.

Kaveh compiles it in an envelope. He feels rewarded as if everything that he’s gone through has finally led up to something.

“Fuck! Where is it?” He’s missing a folder.

Technically, what he’s giving is already more of what was asked for. Still, the perfectionist in him cannot stand to not have everything in its place, especially not with the opportunity that he was presented with.

A knock comes from his door and he flinches, his family cannot know about this. They’ll get rid of it again.

“It’s just me.” He relaxes, rolling his eyes before turning back.

“Asshole,” Kaveh says.

“After I saw your folder in the living room and kept it? Alright, I’ll guess I’ll throw it out.” Al-Haitham replies sarcastically.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I kept it for a reason. I wouldn’t throw it out now.” Kaveh forcefully takes out the folder and shoves it into his envelope.

He wants to say thanks, but his pride is too high for that.

“Be home before your curfew, I won’t cover for you.” Al-Haitham says.

Kaveh knows that he will despite the annoying tone that he’s using.

He runs to the front of the castle as fast as he can, his legs were not made out for this kind of journey. Still, he won’t give up.

He reaches the gates luckily, just an hour before the deadline.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

“We got a lot of submissions…and most of them are barely even considered actual pieces. I mean, look at this. Who would turn a castle into a teapot?” Faruzan complains, searching through the different envelopes.

You take a look at the amount and you couldn’t help but agree more. It’s absurd.

“Everyone who’s a licensed architect can be thrown away.” You ordered.

“Did I hear that correctly?” She eyes you as if you’re crazy.

You are.

“It’s fine, I have faith in him.”

After that, the submissions are lessened quite easily. While there were some that had fit up to the standards, they weren’t simply what you were looking for.

You remember every single thing he said, if you could just match that up with an envelope then you’ll be fine.

“We have two left.” Your advisor states.

Two names in front of you. One was named ‘Albedo’ and the other one was named ‘Kaveh’. You hesitate to open, the anxiety that he never heard of this competition or that you have sorted away his piece is eating you.

Your advisor notices this and gives one of her very rare encouragement.

“You said you have faith.”

You sigh, trying to calm down.

“I do.” You say it just loud enough to believe it.

You and Faruzan both take one, opening them at the same time.

Your hands shake as you do.

This ‘Albedo’ is good. God, it’s gorgeous. Though what he’s sent out are more artistic than they are architectural, you can see the vision that he’s presenting, it’s something you think your mystery man would find great fun studying.

You literally cannot do this.

You only had one chance left.

It’s this or nothing.

Faruzan holds your hand while you go through his envelope. It’s breathtaking, it’s almost as what you imagined that time Kaveh was talking to you were right here, laid out perfectly.

“Kaveh.” The name sounds so sweet on your tongue.

Finally.

You dress up in a nice outfit, sitting on the carriage’s seat, trying your best not to scream. You could have gotten the wrong person, but you’re sure that this Kaveh is him.

You’re not accompanied by anyone except your coachman. You’ve asked him “if you’re there yet” about five times.

You bury your face in your hands. This is fine, you’ll be fine.

You almost smack your head face-first on the seat when the carriage comes to a stop without any warning.

The door opens for you.

You hear the gossiping of the people around you and you give them that perfect smile you’ve been taught to do even if it makes you feel uncomfortable.

There’s a person by the door. One who’s certainly not the one you met at the party.

“Hello.” You greet.

“Your highness.” He replies, bowing his head.

There is an awkward silence between the two of you. It is clear that neither of you likes talking.

“I’m looking for—”

“Kaveh, I presume?”

You nod nervously.

He opens the door and shouts, an annoyed response can be heard from the outside.

Everything’s fine, you rule this kingdom. If it’s another person, you can just bomb the whole place away!

The joking in your head does not make it any better.

“I swear this better be important, I was busy—” He stops talking as soon as he meets with your eyes.

There’s a flushed look on his face that matches yours.

“Oh. It’s you…”

There come the gasps from around you.

“He did not just call them that.”

“How disrespectful!”

“Right?!”

You cough, unsure how to state why you’re here. You just hand him the contract.

He shakes as he reads it.

“What…?”

“I told you that I’ll build you a castle.” You remind him.

Kaveh remembers and you can see everything click right in his face. He’s very expressive, not that you were a stranger to that.

“Y-Your Highness.” He stutters.

You wonder if it’s appropriate to go down on your knee.

Fuck it. You can have Madame Faruzan reprimand you later.

The people watching scream in shock as you go down on one knee.

“Now that we have that out of the way…Will you do me the honor of ruling by your side?”

Please say yes, please say yes, please say—

“What?!” Kaveh yells at you.

“G-Get up! Oh my god, your highness!” He tells you.

“I’m not standing up unless you say yes.”

The man you talked to previously whistles before heading inside the house. Kaveh glares at him, he did just not leave him in a situation like this.

“I’m serious, Kaveh.”

“You’re crazy.” He says.

“I know.” You look up to him hopefully.

He’s so red, it’s almost painful to look at. Not that you were any different from his case.

“I—Alright! Yes! So stand up already, your cape is getting dirty and everyone’s looking so—”

You pull Kaveh down by his collar, drowning in his sweet familiar lips.

#plattered writings #dom reader #sub genshin impact #dom!reader #sub genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #sub kaveh #sub!kaveh #sub kaveh x reader #thirsts for blake

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 23 days

Note

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv show #fallout prime #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #submission

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annwrites · 27 days

Text

see somethin' you like, darlin'?

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: you & billy are far from hawkins & get a room for the night.

— tags: there's only one bed, billy offering to share the shower, billy getting you to open up to him, billy just being a complete horndog

— tw: eating, drinking, mentions of domestic violence, mentions of near-childhood molestation, mentions of alcohol, smoking

— word count: 3,644

— a/n: i'm just: IN THESE MOTEL ROOMS I STARTED TO SEE YOU DIFFERENTLY

some of billy's dialogue is so funny to me lol

find my other posts concerning billy, here

When you wake, it's now daylight out and the car is stopped, the smell of gasoline wafting through the cabin. You slowly sit up and see that you're at a gas station. You look around, and spot Billy, who's standing behind the car, gassing it up.

You exit the car and he looks at you. "See you're finally awake."

You'd only woken one other time in the middle of the night, and had listened silently as Mötley Crüe played quietly on the radio, Billy softly singing along. You'd let his voice put you back to sleep.

You nod, stretching, and he licks his lips as your t-shirt rides up a tad before settling back over your hips.

His eyes meet yours again.

"Where are we?"

The nozzle jerks and Billy removes it, screwing the gas cap back into place. "Missouri."

Your brows raise.

He comes to stand in front of you. "Slept right through Illinois."

You'd gone through an entire state overnight.

Something about him letting you sleep peacefully all night while he raced to get the both of you away before anyone could come after you made warmth bloom in your chest.

You cross your arms gently. "Do...do you think we're okay?"

He shrugs. "My folks would probably know I'm headed for California. I'm guessing your dad wouldn't know where to start looking for you?"

You shake your head.

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of smokes, then retrieves a lighter from his front right pocket and he lights one up. He takes a long drag before speaking again, eyes wandering over those milling around the gas station, fueling up or wrangling unruly kids, taking bites of their gas-station snacks.

He then looks back down to you again. "You hungry?"

You blink up at him, more worried about being caught and dragged back home than grabbing a candy bar. Not one to dwell on serious matters, he is.

You shrug. "A little."

He turns, heading to go inside. You follow behind.

When you enter the small convenience store, the smell of hot dogs and something sugary greets your senses, cool air washing over you. The two of you go in separate directions. You opting for something hot to eat, him, a bag of chips and a pack of M&Ms. You grab a bottle of water from one of the coolers, while he opts for a Red Bull.

Once you're standing up front before the cashier, you begin patting your pockets, realizing your wallet is in one of your bags in the car. "I'll be right back, I have to go grab some cas-"

He pushes your food together with his. "It's fine, I've got it."

"Thank you," you say quietly.

The older woman behind the counter with dyed-red hair and a bit too much eyeliner glances between the two of you with a concerned expression. Your brows furrow, confused as to why she's giving you a strange look. Your pictures weren't already being broadcast on TV, were they? And then you remember that you'd been beaten black and blue last night.

Billy rolls his eyes. "I'm not the one that gave her a tune-up. So, you want to ring my shit up now, or what?"

You look down, embarrassed.

The scanner starts to beep.

Once you're both back in the car, you taking small bites from your hotdog, Billy taking sips from his energy drink, you remain silent as he turns out of the parking lot, merging back into traffic.

"Are you still okay to drive? I mean, aren't you exhausted? You look tired."

He glances to you with a smirk and a raised brow.

Great, the pretentious asshole is back.

"If you think I'm about to let you behind the wheel, sweetie, you have another thing comin'."

You lean back, taking another bite of your food. You swallow. "I wouldn't know how, even if I wanted to."

He shifts gears. "Don't tell me you only know automatics."

You take a sip of your water. "I don't know any."

He slows for a red light, looking at you. "Your old man never taught you how to drive?"

You shake your head.

He rolls his eyes, accelerating again. "Figures."

You're in Oklahoma when Billy finally stops, the sky now a dusky pink color, splotches of orange melded in.

The two of you had spent most of the day in silence—well, not talking, that is—at one point he'd turned his music back on, blaring Sammy Hagar's I Can't Drive 55, while, of course, refusing to drive that himself, instead cutting people off in traffic, while going well over the speed limit.

You'd tried to tell him if he kept it up, he'd inevitably get a ticket. And what if the cops then found out that he's been reported missing? That both of you had? Not that you were sure either of you had yet, but that paranoia of being discovered and carted back to Hawkins refused to release you.

He'd then smirked, smoking another cigarette—you hated the smell, and he knew it—and he'd told you "You worry too damn much, darlin'. Might help you relax if you just got laid.".

You'd groaned, leaning your head back against the seat, staring out the open passenger-side window.

He'd laughed, turning back to the road.

Currently, you're standing next to him at the front desk of a Super 8 motel, your bags at your feet as he asks the receptionist for a room for the night.

"We currently have a few rooms available. How many beds?"

He glances to you and you stare up at him. "Which is cheapest?"

He turns back to the receptionist then.

You both wait patiently as she checks the motel's log book. She looks back up to Billy. "We have a room with a double-bed that's twenty-five a night."

He jaw flexes. "And if I wanted two beds instead?"

She glances to you, your bruised-up face, then back to him, then her log book once again. "It'd be double the price."

He sighs, pulling out his wallet, slapping a twenty and a five down on the counter. "One bed it is, then."

You watch as he writes down the name George Thorogood in the guest book, your lip twitching in amusement.

She hands him the key, and each of you pick up your bags from the worn, stained carpet, then, and head back outside, and you follow him up a flight of stairs to your room for the evening.

Once the door is closed behind you, you switch on the light, taking in the low-budget space. A single bed is shoved against the middle of the wall, small wooden nightstands on either side of it, an AC unit under the window to your left. Against the opposite wall is a box TV sat atop a dresser, a placard on top stating they have HBO. To the right side of the bed is the closet, past that, the bathroom. There's also a small table with two chairs by the door you'd just entered.

You watch as he drops his bag on the floor, kneeling down and pulling a jewelry box out, placing it on the bed, and then a small steel strong box.

Your brows furrow.

He flips open the lid of the jewelry box, dumping the contents on the comforter. He begins sorting through everything, separating it all into two distinct piles: cheap, and expensive-looking.

"Did...did you steal that from your mom?"

He looks to you. "Step, and yeah, I did. Got a problem with that?"

You study him for a moment, then shake your head.

He turns back to the jewelry—hand hovering over a silver ring—which he then picks up, and lets out a low curse. "This was my mom's. Fucking bastard. Bitch."

He shoves it into his pocket.

He looks to you. "Think a pawn shop would take costume jewelry?"

You shrug. "Maybe. If not, you could always try an antique store. They probably won't give you very much for it, though."

He dumps all the expensive pieces back into the box, then shoves the rest into a pocket on his duffel bag. Next, he slides the heavy strong box toward the spot the jewelry box has now vacated. He stares down at it for a moment, considering.

He then walks into the bathroom. You sit, listening as you hear the toilet tank lid scraping against the tank, then porcelain meeting porcelain as he, you assume, sets it atop the toilet lid. You hear something being jimmied, then he comes back into the bedroom, handle-arm from the tank in-hand.

He kneels before the box, shoving the piece of thin metal under the lid and pushing upward as much as he can, lips pressed into a firm line.

He stops for a moment. "Gonna end up breaking the fucking thing instead," he mutters to himself.

He looks back to you over his shoulder. "Do you have any bobby pins?"

You stand. "I think so." You walk over to your bag, pick it up, and set it atop the table. You begin rifling through the pocket where you'd put a few personal care items, including a small pack of bobby pins.

You hand them to him, your fingers brushing against the palm of his calloused hand.

He takes two out, unbending them, and he shoves both into the lock of the box and begins to slowly turn them.

He stares at the headboard a few feet from him, going off of feeling alone, trying to concentrate.

"Motherf-" He bites his lip, turning them the other way. He shoves one in further. "C'mon, you bitch."

And then you hear something unclick and a wide smile breaks out across his face. "Ha! Fuck yeah!"

He stands, throwing open the box's lid and both your eyes widen when you see the rolls of cash inside.

He looks to you—who's still standing beside him—with a raised brow and a pleased smirk. "My old man's savings. What I could get my hands on anyway." He begins pulling out rolls of quarters, handing them to you. "He has an account at the Hawkins Credit Union, too, but..." He looks back to the table you'd previously been seated at, then at the rolls of coins in your open palms. "Count those for me, will you?"

You nod, sitting, breaking open the tight paper rollers wrapped around the change.

You glance up and watch as Billy unrolls a fat wad of bills. He begins counting to himself. "Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty..." He continues counting in only a mere whisper then.

Once you've finished adding, you look up to Billy. "There's thirty-five dollars in quarters here." One of the rolls had only been half-filled.

He puts the last of the bills he'd been counting back in the strong box, practically vibrating with excitement. "Three-thousand fucking dollars!" He turns back to you. "Do you have any idea how long that'll keep us going for, honey? Fucking weeks—longer, maybe."

You smile at him.

He turns back, nodding. "Goddamn, three thou'."

He comes over to you, gathering the change to put it back away. "How much did you bring?"

You flush, feeling inferior in comparison, because you'd done the same as him before leaving home: stolen from him. But the amount you'd brought along was practically chump-change in comparison.

"Not nearly as much. My dad...he spends most of his paychecks on booze and scratch-offs. So, only a little over three-hundred." You reach into your bag, rifling through an inner pocket, until your fingers brush again cool metal.

"I did take this, though." You hand him a Rolex.

He whistles. "Damn, how much is this worth?" He looks at you from under his lashes.

You shrug. "My mom bought it for him at some point before she left."

His smile falters then, his eyes staring into your own.

You wonder what had caused his sudden shift in mood.

"Yours left you, too?"

So that was why.

You nod, taking the watch back away from him. "It was a long time ago." You drop it into your bag.

He steps away, flopping back on the bed, hands behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. "So, what was the plan, anyway? If I hadn't come along, I mean. Were...you meeting someone?"

You tuck one of your feet under you. "No. I just planned to walk for as long as I could. Maybe thumb a ride if need-be."

He snorts. "'If need-be'," he repeats back to you. "You realize California is over two-thousand miles away, right, honey?"

You shrug. "I hadn't necessarily planned on California, specifically. Like I said: I just want to go West."

"Well, that's where you're headed now. Specifically." He smiles to himself. California. Home. He was finally going home. He'd never have to be around those people again.

"You mind if I ask how long he's been doing it for?"

You don't need to ask him to elaborate what he's asking exactly.

You're quiet for a moment, staring down at your recently-painted toes. "Since before my mom left. But before she did, he'd never hit me. Only her. So nine."

He chews the inside of his cheek. "That the only thing he did: hit you?"

You know what he's asking. And you don't want to answer.

"Does it matter?"

You'd given him the answer without even having to say it.

"How many times?"

You sigh, wishing he'd drop it. You briefly consider snapping at him, just to cause an argument, which would get you off of this subject.

"Never, technically."

He sits up, looking at you, forearms resting against his thighs, fingers steepled. "No?"

You shift uncomfortably. "When...after I turned twelve and hit puberty... There was this one night when he came home—drunker than I'd ever seen him before. I'd been in bed asleep. He woke me up. Called me my mom's name. I think he thought I was her. I decided to knee him in the groin when he started trying to take off my nightgown. He hit me for it, but it got him off of me, at least. I slept outside that night. Well, stayed outside. I didn't do much sleeping, too afraid to close my eyes.

"The next morning, it was like it'd never happened. Maybe he didn't remember. I sure as hell wasn't going to remind him out of fear of him finishing what he'd tried to start the night before."

You're both silent for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between you. Until Billy speaks.

"I'm sorry."

You look at him. "Me too."

He doesn't want you feeling sorry for him, though. Doesn't want you asking him to open up like you just had. Men were built different. Girls could cry and get upset all they wanted—they were emotional little things to start with. Men needed to be tough. You wanted to feel something? Get angry, then.

He stands, shrugging off his jacket, tossing it back on the bed. He then grips the back of his shirt, pulling it off as well, and you look away, blushing.

He smirks at the look on your face. A dozen sly comments make their way through his head, but he refrains. For now. "I'm going to take a shower to wash the road off of me."

He glances to your bag for a moment. "You got any makeup in there, like Revlon or some shit?"

You look at him with furrowed brows. "No. Why?"

"Well, maybe you should get some. Tired of people giving me dirty looks thinking I did that shit to you." He gestures toward your face.

You shrug. "It'll heal eventually."

"Yeah, in a couple weeks, if not longer."

"I thought you were going to shower?"

He raises a brow. "Saw it when I went to get the handle-arm. Big enough for two."

You roll your eyes, standing, then flop down face-first on the bed. "I'll be just fine right here."

He stares at your ass for a moment. "Oh, I'm sure you will, sweetheart."

You groan and he chuckles as he heads in the direction of the bathroom.

He doesn't bother closing the door and you hear the water start.

And he of course sings loudly the entire time—the lyrics to Warrant's Cherry Pie.

You cover your head with a pillow.

Fifteen minutes later, Billy emerges from the bathroom with nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, his happy-trail visible. He'd positioned it exactly-so in front of the mirror before coming out.

...and you were busy staring out the window. Because of course you were.

He clears his throat and immediately turns toward his bag when you turn to look at him. "Shower's free," he states, dropping his towel to the floor as he pulls on a pair of black briefs.

Your eyes widen. "Billy!"

He glances up to you with a bored expression.

Meanwhile, your face is now cherry-red, your expression that of mortification.

A mischievous smirk then crawls its way across his lips as your eyes glance from his now-clothed waist, to his muscled chest—still wet from the hot water—then your eyes meet his, noticing his damp, slicked-back curls.

"See somethin' you like, darlin'?"

You grab the clothes you'd picked out for wearing to bed tonight while he'd been cleaning up, and storm past him, slamming the bathroom door behind you, even locking it as you turn the water back on, sitting on the toilet lid, head in your hands as you try to calm your now-thundering heart.

Billy merely lays back on the bed again, feeling content, a wry smirk on his face. "Oh yeah, she wants me."

When you emerge from the bathroom, you find Billy asleep on the left side of the bed, nearest the door, light from the window shining down in thin slivers which arch across his bare back.

You quietly pad over, pulling the curtains closed, the room darkening.

Your stomach then rumbles and you decide to go out in-search of a nearby place to get some dinner. It's when you open the door to the room—a twenty from the money you'd taken from your father tucked away in your pocket—that Billy's eyes pop open.

"The fuck're you doin'?" He asks, face half-buried in his pillow.

"I'm hungry."

He closes his eyes. "Then order room service."

You shift on your feet. "I don't think they offer that here."

He groans in tired irritation. "Fucking delivery, I mean."

"Why can't I just-"

"Because I don't need to worry about your ass disappearin'. And I'm fuckin' beat, so I'm not going back out. Close the damn door."

You sigh, doing as he's said, sliding the chain-lock back into place.

"Deadbolt, too," he commands.

You oblige.

You walk over to the bedside table beside his head and pull the drawer open, hoping to find some menus inside, and you end up in-luck. You bend over to grab them, and his hand suddenly slides up the back of your thigh then and you jerk, standing up straight, nearly dropping the laminated papers from your grip. You swat his hand away, stepping back over to the table.

He snickers to himself and you just look at him, shaking your head.

"Is that all you think about?" You ask, voice full of disbelief that he'd just done that.

He rolls onto his back, folding his hands atop his bare chest, eyes still closed. "You sure you want the answer to that, honey?"

You roll your eyes, perusing the menus. "Are you hungry?"

"For food or somethin' else?"

Pig.

"What do you think?" You spit at him and his lip twitches at having gotten under your skin so easily. Again.

"Not really."

You feel the need to berate him for going to bed on an empty-stomach. All he'd had today was a couple bags of junk food, but you know he's tired, so you instead let it go.

You order a small pizza from a local Italian place, and twenty minutes later, there's a knock at the door.

And Billy is woken yet again.

You silently pay the man, closing and locking the door behind you as you set the box on the table.

"Smells good," he says, words slurred.

And he said he didn't want anything. Men.

You plop a piece down on a paper plate and walk it over to him. "Here."

He looks up at you. "Really tired. Maybe I should let you feed it to me."

Jesus Christ—he never stops, does he?

You toss it down on the nightstand. "Your arms aren't broken."

It doesn't take long for the two of you to finish eating. After which, you brush your teeth, then come back into the bedroom, the sky now dark outside.

You stand on the side of the bed opposite him, considering sleeping on the damn floor instead.

"You comin' to bed?" He asks, head turned toward you, eyes closed again.

"Are you going to keep your hands to yourself?"

He shrugs one shoulder. "No promises."

You briefly consider smothering him with a pillow, but instead opt for postponing committing homicide. For now.

You lie down next to him, right on the edge of the bed, and his eyes flutter open. He smiles then. "Knew I'd get you into bed eventually."

"Go the hell to sleep."

He closes his eyes again, a warm smile on his face. "I don't mind 'em fiesty, y'know."

You roll over, facing away from him.

"Mm, even better view."

You let out a loud, irritated groan, stand, then climb beneath the comforter, wrapping it around you. You close your eyes, ignoring the fact that Billy is lying just a few inches away, as you drift off to sleep.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x fem!oc #billy hargrove x female reader

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space-mango-company · 2 months

Text

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #atreides reader #dune #dune part two #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 3 months

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03/16/24 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew; Samba Schutte; Megan Vertelle; Save OFMD 3rd Tier Survey; In Soup Now; Stun Move Sunday; AdoptOurCrew; Rhys Madness Party; Request Uproar!; Pirate Radio/BoatThatRocks; Fan Spotlight; A to Z Ed Teach Zine; Cast Cards; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Samba Schutte BTS =

Samba definitely delivered with the BTS today! Today was shout out to the set design folks regarding The Floating Market! Source: Samba Schutte's Instagram

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 1

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 2

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 3

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 4

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 5

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 6

= Megan Vertelle =

Brilliant Set Designer Megan Vertelle added some more bts for us in regards to the floating market today!

Source: Megan Vertelle Instagram Stories

The Floating Market BTS - More Stills

The Floating Market BTS - Video Part 7

The Floating Market BTS - Video Bonus

== Save OFMD Crew - Survey ==

Please vote on the final stretch goal of the London Ad Campaign! It closes Monday 4 pm GMT / 12pm EST / 9am PST Link to the Survey

= StunMoveSunday =

Time for another #StunMoveSunday! Join SaveOFMDCrew on Instagram!

= In Soup Now =

Up to $1640 on the InSoupNow Fundraiser In Aid of Team HAVEN!

For an extra bit of fun:

youtube

== EVENTS ==

= Adopt Our Crew: Rhys Madness Party =

Our crewmates over at @adoptourcreware hosting a celebratory even for Rhys' birthday week! More details tomorrow!

SRC: AdoptOurCrew Twitter

== Request Uproar at your Local Theatre! ==

Today we heard back from @BlueFoxEntertainment and they have been kind enough to give us some instructions on how to request Uproar at our local theatres! Please go to: Blue Fox Entertainment Linktr.ee and follow the instructions below!

== Watch Parties ==

Mar 17th: The Boat That Rocked AKA Pirate Radio Watch Party

7:30 pm GMT / 3:30 pm EST / 1:30 pm CST

Watch Party Hashtags:

PirateRadio

AdoptOurCrew

SaveOFMD

OurFlagMeansWatchAlong

Mar 18 - Mar 22: Wrecked Season 3

Season 3 watch from March 18th to March 22nd.

Times will be 10pm GMT / 5pm EST / 4pm CST / 2pm PST. Watch two episodes per day. Episodes are 21-22 minutes each. Use the following Saturday for the tags/watch if interested but not able to make this time.

Hashtags:

#WreckedPirates

#SaveOFMD

#RhysDarbyFaction

== Fan Spotlight ==

== Ed Teach A to Z Charity Zine ==

I've been meaning to post this for a week or so and I kept forgetting! So please please please check out the #AtoZofEdTeachZine! You can still get it! Visit the following link. Just donate to an LGBTQ+ charity, $10-15 depending on which version you'd like and they'll email you the zine! Great cause with AMAZING ARTISTS AND WRITERS! Please please check it out! Thank you @xray-vex!

= Cast Cards =

Another wonderful card for the most forgiving chief, Gary Farmer! Check him out in Reservation Dogs! Awesome show! Thank you as always to @melvisik for keeping the case collection coming!

== Dedication to Matthew ==

For Matthew One of our dear crewmates, Stephanie, lost her son back in 2022. They both watched S1 together, and tragically he passed away not long after. Stephanie has been an active member of our crew for years now, and she reached out to Rhys and he made a lovely Cameo for her. Some of you may have already seen it as she's been kind enough to share it with us previously, but after talking with Stephanie and hearing about who Matthew was, I wanted to put together a small dedication to him, and share Stephanie's words with you with her permission. Please visit this post here on tumblr for the whole story or here on the Repo for those of you not on tumblr.

== Love Notes ==

Happy Saturday Lovelies! It's already Sunday for all the folks over on the other side of the Earth, and the weeks starting up again.

Today's been a bit of a long day, and I've been bad about not getting enough sleep lately so I'm gonna leave a couple notes from other folks. I hope you have a lovely evening or morning and know that you are incredibly loved as your imperfect unhinged self. Love you all <3 Night.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme-- SWEATERS! Darby Gif Courtesy of @kiwistede Taika Gif Courtesy of @/Lightyear on Tenor

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #taika waititi #rhys darby #samba schutte #Youtube

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 3 months

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A Little Angel (Or Devil?) Chapter 2

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Story Summary: Matt and Reader, happily married at the end of Angel of God, my Guardian Dear, start the next chapter in their life together -- parenthood.

Warnings/Tags: Smut, Unprotected Sex (I mean obviously, Matt and Reader are trying for a baby), Pregnancy and all the fun stuff that comes with it (sarcastic), no graphic depiction of childbirth

Word Count: ~1600

A/N: Warning for folks with emetophobia for this chapter!

Tag List: @nommingonfood

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

Matt whistled cheerfully as he walked home from the office a few weeks later. He had just wrapped up a case for an affluent client which meant that the firm was going to be able to keep the lights on for another few months, Foggy had told him that he had finally asked Karen out on a date, and it was Thursday, which meant that he and Y/N would be spending the weekend breaking in the new living room furniture that would be arriving Saturday morning.

He walked up the steps to his and Y/N’s house and unlocked the door, frowning when he was greeted with silence.

Normally on the days Y/N arrived home before Matt he would hear her getting started on dinner in the kitchen or at the very least moving around upstairs, but today there was no sound.

Matt stepped further into the foyer, trying to remember if Y/N had told him that she had made plans with Jessica for after work. “Y/N? You home, angel?”

He tilted his head as he heard the slow, steady rhythm of Y/N’s heartbeat coming from the back of the house.

He headed down the hall towards the dining room. “Sweetheart?”

He paused as he reached the garden room and realized that Y/N was fast asleep on the couch.

He crept closer to her and knelt on the floor, gently brushing his hand across her forehead and frowning when she felt a bit warmer than usual. “Y/N? Angel?”

Y/N stirred and let out a soft sigh. “Matty?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, sweetheart, it's me.”

“What time is it?”

“About 7:15.”

Y/N groaned and sat up. “Shit, I'm sorry, honey. I wasn't feeling well after I got home from work so I laid down in here for just a second. I must've fallen asleep. ”

Matt's brow furrowed at the weak sound of her voice. “You okay, angel?”

“Mm mmm.” Y/N sighed. “I feel drained. Hope I'm not coming down with something.”

Matt felt Y/N's forehead again. “You do feel a bit warm. Maybe you should take tomorrow off to rest.”

Y/N shook her head. "I can't, I have that --"

She suddenly cut herself off and jumped up, running through the dining room towards the first floor bathroom.

Matt winced at the sound of Y/N throwing up and followed, pausing at the doorway. “You okay, angel?”

Y/N groaned from where she was hunched over the toilet. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I should take tomorrow off to rest.”

Matt entered the bathroom and knelt down next to Y/N, reaching his hand out to rub her back soothingly. “I'm sorry you're not feeling well, sweetheart.”

“Ugh, this is the worst time for me to have to be sick. I'm supposed to be recording the audio version of our newsletter tomorrow morning, plus we're gearing up for the start of summer reading next week.”

Matt shook his head. “Your health is more important. Hopefully you'll be feeling better and can do the newsletter in a few days, otherwise I'm sure someone else can fill in. In the meantime you need rest.”

“Mmm.”

Matt went to the kitchen and filled a glass with some water before bringing it to Y/N. “Here, you need to stay hydrated if you're throwing up.”

Y/N hummed. “Thanks, Matty.”

She took the glass from Matt and swished some water around in her mouth before spitting it into the toilet, then took a cautious sip. “Ugh.”

“Better?”

“Little bit. Thanks, honey.” Y/N took another sip of water. “Maybe I should sleep downstairs for a few days. I don't want to give you whatever this is I've got.”

Matt shook his head. “We've already been in extremely close contact so if whatever you have is contagious chances are I've already caught it. Luckily though, I've got a pretty strong immune system so if I haven't already gotten sick I'll probably be fine.”

He went to help Y/N up. “Besides, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't take care of my wife in her time of need? After all, our wedding vows did say ‘in sickness and in health’.”

Y/N leaned against him. “I love you, you know that?”

Matt planted a kiss on her forehead. “I love you too. Now, we're gonna get you in bed, then I'm gonna go get you some chicken soup.”

Y/N hummed. “Could I have some egg drop soup from the Chinese restaurant on the corner instead?”

Matt chuckled. “Of course, angel. I'll call in a delivery order for dinner, how about that?”

Y/N nodded against him. “Okay.”

Matt helped Y/N up the stairs to their bedroom and paused in their doorway. “Want to shower first?”

Y/N hummed. “Yeah, that might help.”

Matt nodded. “Okay, you go do that, I'll order our food.”

“Okay.”

Matt called in their delivery order while Y/N gathered her pajamas, then waited until she had headed into the bathroom before making a second call.

“Mr. Murdock?” said the voice on the other end.

“Yeah, kid, it's me,” Matt replied. “Are you going to be patrolling tonight?”

“Yeah, I was planning on it. Why?”

“I was wondering if you could make a couple of passes around the Kitchen for me. Something came up so I'm staying in.”

“Everything okay?”

Matt winced as he heard Y/N throwing up again. “Yeah, it's just that my wife's not feeling well and I don't want to leave her home alone.”

“Oh, okay, it's no problem, Mr. Murdock, I can do that for you. And I hope Mrs. Murdock feels better soon.”

Matt nodded. “Thanks, Peter, I owe you one.”

“Okay, talk to you later!”

“Bye.”

Matt hung up then texted Foggy as the shower turned on. Working from home tomorrow. Y/N’s sick.

Oh no, was Foggy's reply. Hope she feels better soon. Let me know if you two need anything.

Thanks. Will do.

He put his phone away and headed downstairs, the scent of Chinese food wafting towards him as their delivery order neared.

He grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator, waited until the delivery person rang the doorbell, then accepted the order and took it upstairs, setting it on the dresser as Y/N walked out of the bathroom.

Matt turned towards her. “Feeling better?”

Y/N hummed. “I think so.”

Matt gave her a kiss, tasting the slightly minty flavor of toothpaste on Y/N’s lips. “You get settled in bed and I'll bring your soup to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Matt set his takeout container on his nightstand along with one of the bottles of water before handing Y/N her soup. “Here you go, angel.”

Y/N gave an appreciative hum. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Matt set the other bottle of water on Y/N’s nightstand along with an extra bottle of ginger ale he had added to their food order. “Here, I'm hoping the soup and ginger ale settle your stomach.”

He moved to his side of the bed to eat, keeping his attention on Y/N in case she got sick again.

Once Y/N was finished, he took her empty container. “Feeling ok so far?”

Y/N was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, it's staying down.”

Matt nodded. “Okay, good. Let me go take care of this stuff, I'll be right back.”

He ran downstairs, rinsing out their containers before placing them in the recycling bin.

He headed back upstairs, grabbing a clean pair of boxers from the dresser. “I'm gonna go grab a quick shower. Need anything?”

“Mm mmm.” Y/N shifted against the bedsheets as she settled in. “Tired.”

“Okay. Be right back.”

Matt hurried through showering and brushing his teeth then headed back into the bedroom, climbing into bed next to Y/N.

He wrapped his arms around her and leaned back, pulling her to him. “Come here, sweetheart.”

Y/N snuggled up to him. “You aren't going out Daredeviling tonight?”

Matt shook his head. “No, not tonight. I asked Spiderman to keep an eye out for me in case anything pops up, and I also told Foggy I was working from home tomorrow. You're my number one priority, angel, I'm not going to leave you here alone when you're not feeling well.”

“Thank you, Matty.” Y/N nuzzled her nose into Matt's chest. “Mmm, you smell good.”

Matt chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Get some rest, okay? I'm not going anywhere.”

Y/N nodded. “Mmhmm.”

Matt gently stroked her hair until her breathing turned deep and even.

After she was asleep he slowly reached over and pulled his ear buds out of his nightstand drawer, then connected them to his phone so the noise wouldn't disturb Y/N.

Matt had sworn back when he and Y/N were kids that he would always do anything and everything he possibly could to take care of her when she wasn't feeling well. I'll always take care of you, Y/N, he had said the time Y/N had been ill with the flu when she was 14 and Matt had been 15. That's what best friends are for.

He opened the online ordering app for the grocers a couple of blocks over and ordered the ingredients for homemade chicken soup along with some peppermint herbal tea for delivery the following morning in case Y/N still wasn't feeling well.

He put his phone and earbuds away then settled in to sleep. He just hoped that Y/N felt better soon.

#lotmf writes #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #ALA(oD) Masterlist #AoG Masterlist

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silentglassbreak · 5 months

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Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

K listen, I've haven't written any band FF in a LONG LONG LONG time, mkay? But Bad Omens...Noah Sebastian...mmmph. Let's see how far we get here. If you enjoy, let me know. If you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know that too. If you even so much as take the time to read MY SINCEREST GRATITUDES CAUSE WRITING THIS STUFF IS MY ESCAPE. xo

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 1 - Burning Out

Work had been long today. Longer than most days. The customers screaming at me had only taken it's toll so much, but having a God awful supervisor who was hell bent on making me late for my meeting, knowing full well how important my twice weekly meetings were, had completely wiped my energy and patience in one fell swoop. Needless to say, I was in no mood for excess attitude or traffic today. Which is why I found myself cursing at the jackass in the SUV in front of me, taking at least a year to make a right hand turn into the close to empty parking lot where the meeting was being held. It took the last of my self restraint to not lay on my horn and flip a specific finger at the driver.

Finally reaching the normal parking space in front of the unmarked office building, I silently breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it, only 2 minutes later than I should be. I began scrambling for my energy drink and my bag before shuffling out of my car and pressing the fob to hear the beep of the alarm set. My poor beat up Tahoe was doing her best, so I never took my frustrations out on her.

As I crossed the parking lot, I whipped my head around to gauge the spaces, noticing all of the regulars were already here, meaning I was the last to arrive. Sucks, given I'm the meeting organizer. Something caught my eye. A vehicle I didn't recognize, a black SUV. The same one who apparently can't make a right turn to save their life. Newbie? The rest of the offices were closed for the day, so I can't see why else they'd be here.

The building is always so quiet at 6PM, so the tapping of my chucks on the tile floors is louder than I'd like, drawing attention to my obvious lateness. (To who?). Didn't matter. I felt ashamed. These meetings are the most important facet of my life right now. I needed to be more punctual. Maybe next time, I'll tell Supervisor Sam to fuck right off like he deserves.

"Guys, I am so fucking sorry. Douchebag sup made me late...again." I announced as I backed into the door, opening it, and heading straight to the table to pull the Crumbl cookies out of my bag and setting them next to the water cooler and Keurig machine. I always brought sweets. It kept the cravings away.

"No worries Leena, we've just been chatting with the new guy." I turned around to see Abel, my veteran, who was gesturing to someone I didn't know.

I went around the circle of chairs, counting off my regular faces, some newer than others.

Abel, Rodger, Syd, Seth, Ali, Jackson, Mark, and Jillian.

However, sitting between Abel and Jillian was a newcomer, who currently had his back turned, slumped forward in his chair. Brown hair, longer than the hat he wore, black sweatshirt and dark blue jeans. Black sneakers. Hood up. Guarded, uncomfortable. What little of his hands I could see kneading together, they were completely tattooed. Even at Abel's mention of him, he didn't turn to face me.

"Oh! Well good! Great job guys. We can go ahead and get started." I grabbed my clipboard off the table, and rounded the group and took my normal spot next to Syd. By the way her hair was pulled back and her face looked dry and sullen, I could tell we had some things to talk about today.

"Well, my new folks don't typically like to talk first on their first day, but just know, that you being here is only the beginning. And we are all here to welcome you to our group. Right, guys?" I directed my statement toward the stranger, who I now can see more clearly. His face is pale, with the exception of the dark circles rested comfortably above his cheekbones. If I were to take a guess, those had been there a while.

The rest of my group nodded, with several of them giving a quick 'That's right.' and 'Welcome in.'

"I'm Leena, the group coordinator. I can answer any questions you may have?" The stranger just peered at me with dark eyes and shook his head. "Okay, we can jump right in, then."

I could feel Syd next to me bursting to talk, so I looked to her.

"Syd, do you want to get us started today?" She only nodded, wiping some stray tears forming on her cheeks.

Syd was such a beautiful girl. Only 21 years old, it was amazing that she found the strength to come to us so young, and work on turning her life around. Her neon blue hair was knotted on top of her head, and she was picking feverishly at her sleeve of her sweater. I could feel what was coming. I always could.

"I...I fell off the wagon." I only nodded, knowing. She had missed three meetings, and unless someone forewarned me about vacations or work obligations, it almost always meant they were on a bender of some kind.

"Okay," As her tears began pouring, I reached over and ran a hand up her arm. There was a reason I sat Syd right next to me. She had been one of my newest, and biggest challenges. Overcoming the demons was an every day, every moment, every second battle that she was still very much fighting. "It's alright honey. We're all here to support you. No one is judging."

She went on to explain she had began with a mimosa at brunch with her friends, who didn't know she was in recovery. She didn't want them to know, so she tried to just sip. It didn't work. It never does. The one drink lead to a blackout weekend and three days in jail for public intoxication. She lost the job she had just gotten at the local DMV. Syd was going through it. She would need Seth, her sponsor, more than usual right now. He was on the other side of her, clutching her hand as she cried.

Once Syd had finished her confession, and emotionally put her 30-day coin back in the jar, we moved on to Seth.

One by one, through the circle, we heard everyone's stories of recent achievements and sorrows. Challenges and victories. Their ongoing battles. Once Jillian finished telling us about her recent trip to Vegas with her friends, where she managed not to have a single drink. We applauded her, because we all knew how much restraint that took.

I would steal occasional glances at our guest, whose eyes would also glance back at me once in a while, but mostly followed the speakers, never moving in his chair, stoic as cement. This isn't uncommon for people coming here for the first time. It's not easy to do, and it's wildly uncomfortable at first.

However, the circle was now all looking at him, and a look of almost panic flashed across his face.

"Is it on me?" His voice was deeper than I expected, with a clear rasp to it that told me all I needed to know about his history. He belonged here, and we were glad to have him.

I nodded. "How much you tell us is entirely up to you, but all I ask is you at least tell us your name, and why you're here."

He bit his bottom lip, eyes cast at me from across the room, looking up through long, dark eyelashes. "I have to say it out loud?"

"That's one of the first steps." I kept a soft smile on my face. Being warm, and understanding was my entire job here.

Abel's elbow nudged the stranger, who glanced at him, encouraging him. "No worries man, we've all been here."

A hard sigh left his throat, ending with a sharp cough.

"My name is Noah. And I'm an alcoholic."

****

Once the meeting had ended, I was stacking chairs back against the wall, prepping the room for the next meeting, NA. They had their own setup, and would be in here in about 30 minutes. Most everyone had left, with the exception of Abel, Syd, and Noah. Our newest AA member had been pretty tight-lipped about himself, only admitted to being 27 years old, and in the entertainment industry. He didn't elaborate further. That was just fine. If he kept coming, we would encourage him further, but AA was all about getting you through it at your pace. As long as you didn't drink, I was happy.

I was putting away the leftover cookies, planning to take the last couple with me to work tomorrow for a snack. I happened to catch a glimpse of someone leaving the restroom, and I noticed it was Noah. Everyone else had left only a couple minutes ago.

"Oh, hey!" I waved at him to come over. He paced his tall frame over to me, towering over me easily. He had at least a foot of height on me, which was hilarious, given I was a year older and 3 years sober myself.

"Hey, thanks for having me today. I didn't know if you could just come to these things." I slung my bag over my shoulder, smiling at him.

"C'mon, I wanted to chat with you before you left." We made our way out of the building as Angie, the NA organizer walked in past us, smiling at us both.

We reached the parking lot, my green Tahoe and the same black SUV being some of the only vehicles left. It dawned on me that he drove the SUV. Well, he may need a driving lesson, but he seemed nice enough.

I turned to face him before heading for my car. "Have you talked to anyone about being a sponsor? The only requirements I have is that they have been sober at least 6 months. Almost everyone in our group is, with the exception of Syd and Jackson." I could see him chewing his lip, his fingers fiddling with his keys.

"No, I...I didn't think about it." His eyes were looking everywhere but at me.

"Noah?" I asked, trying to get his attention. "Do you know what a sponsor is?"

This drew a short, burst of a chuckle out of him, his lips curling in a sheepish grin while he shook his head. I saw his frame relax for just a second, his arm reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

"I don't." I nodded, chuckling myself.

"No worries! I didn't when I started either." I waved him over to the bench perched just outside the building. He followed me and we sat. "A sponsor is someone to keep you straight. Someone who will keep your head on when you feel like you might fall off." He was listening, eyes fixed on me. "This is the person you call when you want a drink. They'll talk you down, distract you. Support you." He nodded, understanding crossing his features.

"Do they have to be a member of the group?"

"No, not necessarily, but they do need to be sober. A sponsor is no good if they are drinking and setting bad examples."

"Makes sense. I'll think on it." I stood up then, stretching up on my toes to flex my legs that had been sitting most the day. He stayed sat, now looking up at me.

"I do need you to have a sponsor by the next meeting on Thursday, though. Have to have one by your second session. And if you don't have one by then, we can get someone in the group to sponsor you, no problem."

He raised a brow at me, a smirk on his lips. "Didn't you say you only had one rule?" This threw me off. Smartass? It was innocent, I could tell, but a joker. Hadn't had one of those in a while.

I laughed it off. "Well, I only do for your first day. There are only a few rules to AA, but they're pretty much common sense."

He stood then, towering me once again. "Can you tell me anyway? I don't want to fuck this up." We then began walking back towards the cars. When I walked toward mine, he followed. It was dark already, so I didn't mind. This was LA, after all.

"Well, the first is obvious, no drinking." I popped my driver door open and flung my bag in toward the passenger's side. He nodded at me and leaned against the rear door of my truck.

"Second, no coming in drunk. As obvious as that may seem, you would not believe how many people I've kicked out of the meeting for showing up mid-bender." He raised his eyebrows. "As much as I'd like to keep and eye on them, it's not good for the other members."

"No, for sure." His tone was even.

"And lastly," I then looked straight at him, so he knew how serious I was. "don't ever lie to me." I could see him straighten just a little, feeling the seriousness of what I was saying. "If you fell off, admit it. I'm not judging. I did, so many times. But if you lie, you're out." I then took a step closer, if only to make my point, "Because I always find out."

He kicked off from my truck, his body less than six inches from mine. He looked down at me, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yes ma'am." I felt a twinge up the back of my spine. It was a little warm all of a sudden, and my mouth was dry. I stepped back, and was able to regain my brain.

I smiled brightly at him and swung myself up into my truck. Before I slid my legs in, I looked at him, now almost at eye-level.

"Great! I'll see you Thursday, then!"

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #fanfic

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