#had this idea in my head for MONTHS I needed to get it out there

[fairuzfan]

the reason i shared my great-grandmother's story on here a few months ago is not for sympathy or anything, its to illustrate to you just how deeply, deeply anti-Palestinian the idea of zionism is.

i remember my grandmother, the one who watched her mother die in her home, she called us with a plain tone of voice, and she said "she asked to be buried in [her village] but of course the the zionists wouldn't let that happen." the thing that will not leave my head was the way my grandmother said it, the way it just seemed so natural and so obvious to her. my grandmother is *not* a quiet woman, she yells everything she ever says, whether happy or sad but this she said softly. like she was resigned to this, she expected this.

this woman was exiled once from her village, then again from Palestine, then again and again and again and eventually forced to live in poverty in a refugee camp, she knows the 'israeli' state more intimately than anyone i know, she knows what it will and won't allow in its genocidal apparatus and to her it was obvious that they would not respect her mother's body or last wishes. she knew that.

and i always go back to it when i see discussions on here or on twitter or in academia, like you guys (the moderates, the apologists) have never ever spoken to a nakba survivor or a naksa survivor. you don't know just how deeply its affected our families.

so when we ask you to completely reject zionism, when we demand it from allies, we aren't saying this to be stubborn or nonsensical, we're saying it because we know where zionism will lead us. we've been through the "we just want peace" and the "we need to just talk it out" phases already, how can you not think we've been through those phases after 75 years. we've had our meet and greets and our appeals and now we're at literally the worst stage of genocide against our people and you're still insisting on "talking it out" or some variation of it.

the truth of the matter is that we don't have patience for zionism anymore because look where it got us. look where we're at. even soft zionists, you need to stamp those people out from pretending they've got good points, or that you need to build community with them or whatever. we are literally at the worst part of Palestinian history ever, we need to stop pretending there are grey zones to this. Zionist apologists and the like are creating ambiguity that literally gets our families killed under the guise of "complication". I'm sick and tired of watching these same discussions over and over again about how "Israel is a result of antisemitism" when it very much is not. I'm sick of seeing people who know NOTHING about colonization push their own agendas and provide cover for zionists to do whatever they want. Just stop talking about things you don't understand because I promise you, you're directly contributing to the violence you claim to abhor.

[moondirti]

Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!

My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.

Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?

What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?

Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.

Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?

Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!

shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev

cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.

Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.

Or even understand, really.

Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...

You don't mind it.

But you still don't like him.

It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.

That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.

Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.

You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–

The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.

But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.

Things only get worse from there.

"An' where d'you think you're going?"

You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.

If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.

"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.

But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.

And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.

"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."

He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.

"Where are you going with this?"

Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.

"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"

"N-No–"

"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"

"Yes. Yes but–"

"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."

Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.

Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.

That cruel fuck.

"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."

Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.

As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.

"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."

"Si–"

He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.

"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."

You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.

"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."

You make it one block before hightailing back home.

Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.

You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.

But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.

You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.

Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.

Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.

Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.

"Miss me 'lready?"

A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.

The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.

Good dick be damned.

But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.

Account does not exist.

Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.

So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.

It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–

Account does not exist.

Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.

Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.

And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.

It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.

"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."

"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"

You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.

The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.

And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.

You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.

Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.

Just as Simon barges into your room.

You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.

But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.

"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.

Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.

(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)

That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.

You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.

"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."

"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.

He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.

If anything, he's the stray.

"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."

[gglitch1dd]

Letters to and from a Soldier

Part of the "Well... aren't you a pretty doll?" Series.

Army Soldier Midoriya Izuku x Secretary Reader

Context: War has separated you and your husband but your hearts forever stay with one another.

Note: Set in the 1940s/1950s

[PART 4] [Well… aren’t you a pretty doll- Masterlist]

To my loving wife,

I pray that you are well. It has been too long since I have seen your face and I think about you of every second of my waking state and for every moment that I close my eyes. Although my heart longs for you, this is no place for you nor any sane man. The front is just as bad as we thought it would be, but we’ve got a tough group of men here.

Sargent has me staying close to him, for strategy is a game of the mind and not of strength, however I wish I could be out there with my brothers in arms. I do know however, that you would much rather have me stay away from conflict, which is the only good settlement I have in my heart.

I am so glad that you said you were well in your last letter. Funny enough, some days I can go an entire two weeks without receiving a letter from you, only to receiver eight letters in bulk a day later. I worried for you. I know it was not long that we were married and living together, and now we are so far apart. I wish for you to be safe, my love. Stay close with your girls and look out for one another.

I am glad Enji is keeping you busy so you don’t have to worry about me too much. You’re a smart woman, doll. I know you can handle whatever that man has in store.

Now I know I ramble off too much. Sargent says I write too many letters and sending off a letter per day is a waste of paper but I can’t help it. Writing to you is the only time my thoughts reach a point of sanity and relief.

Doll, I love you more than words can say and miss you more than the air I breathe.

Fighting hard for you,

Your husband, Midoriya Izuku

To my darling husband,

Not a single day goes by that I don’t think of you. I know you tell me not to worry, but Izuku, I just can’t help it. It’s hard being so far away from you, knowing where you are and the nightmares you face everyday. I worry that you aren’t getting enough sleep nor enough energy to carry you through. Take care of yourself please, my love. If I can’t be there to take care of you, I need you to do so in my place.

It’s nearly your birthday. I hope my letter came with my little present. It isn’t much but I hope you like it. Its’a handkerchief that I embroidered just for you. I hope it serves you some sort of purpose, I had your mother give me some string to allow me to put it all together for you. She sends her love as well. She’s decided to stay with me and Mina till you all get back, which is much of a relief to me.

I surely have no idea how Mina can do it, but she’s holding on strong. Can you believe she is already six months on? The baby is starting to move and Mina believes it’s a girl. Your mother is giving her a lot of advice and I’m learning everything I can from her. She’s just wonderful for us here. We’re helping some of the other mothers that are here so that they can be strong too. It’s hard now that all of you men are gone, there’s so much to be done and so little of us left to do it but we are holding on strong. We’re making sure your uniforms get to you and so does everything you need.

Mr Todoroki is leaving tomorrow to head to the front to where you are. I convinced him to give you my letters and gift (for the price of some biscuits, which I sincerely hope you get a taste of).

They hit the power stations three nights ago. It’s been dark ever since so I’m writing by candle light at the moment. Our bed doesn’t feel like it should without you here, but I’ll keep it warm for you.

Faithfully waiting,

Your loving wife, Midoriya Y/N

To my loving wife,

I apologise for my lack of letters that you might not be receiving. We’ve been moved to another part of the country so there was not much time to sit down and write to you, nor to get my letters sent properly. It’s been a tough few days out here. Some of the men are sick with typhoid fever, but luckily we’ve had a rather calm few days. The nurses here are working hard for all of us. Especially for poor Kacchan. He managed to save some of us from a landmine, however it seems as though his hearing has been significantly impaired. I stay by his side every moment I can.

I keep your handkerchief in my breast pocket everyday and look at it as I think of you. I pray that you are well and that you are safe. Sometimes I wonder what monsters created war and why they themselves do not fight in it. However, I am just a soldier, I am just a man, and thus is my duty to defend my country and defend you.

You saved me, my love. I wasn’t able to write to you the past two weeks as I was in recovery too. I got shot at (don’t worry, I am doing well, all limbs attached and all). The bullet just managed to hit the locket instead of me. However, now I am stuck with a rather impressive scar but a broken locket.

Love, I have some reason to believe that you should get Mina, Okaasan and the girls and head out of town to Okinawa. If there is one place I know is safe, it is there. Don’t ask why, don’t hesitate either. I pray you receive this letter before it happens.

Eijiro can’t write at the moment, he injured his hand while trying to hold up some rubble to help some injured soldiers escape, but he sends his love to Mina and the little one inside her. I send my love too.

Please, once you get this, get out of town as fast as you can.

Write me a letter when you’re out.

I hope to see you soon.

Your worried husband, Midoriya Izuku

To my loving wife,

I heard on the radio about the bomb.

Dear God, I pray you had escaped before then. It has been three weeks since I sent that letter and I still have yet to hear back from you. I can only pray that you are safe. There isn’t much paper left this side, but Sargent said that we’ll receive orders on what next we should do.

I can only imagine how horrifying it must be.

I’ve heard the nukes they use is powerful enough to that our enemies are playing God, however, I doubt God is as cruel.

Eijiro worries for you, Mina and the baby and so do I.

Please write back to me when you receive this.

Your worrying husband, Midoriya Izuku.

To my darling husband,

I apologise for not being able to write to you. The train down to the coast and the boat trip to Okinawa was one where I could not even sit down to think.

You are a blessing to my life, Izuku. We managed to make it out just in time. It was the night before when we got on the next train down to the coast when we had heard of the bombing near town. Your mother nearly fell in relief. We all managed to get out, thank goodness but I can only pray for the poor souls that didn’t. I think of you everyday and I wish I could accept you into my arms.

I heard we were surrendering. Is it true?

I wouldn’t be surprised, but after all the work you men did these past months, you all deserve to come home.

Tell Eijiro, he should be glad to know that he is now the proud father of a baby girl. She was born just a few days ago. Mina was as tough as can be and the baby is as healthy as a horse. She’s the cutest little thing with big ruby eyes and dark hair. She looks just like Eijiro too. She decided on one of the names Eijiro liked. Yuna. Kirishima Yuna.

Oh she’s the most beautiful little thing in the world Izuku.

I’ve written our new address at the bottom of the letter. The money I managed to save up from your paychecks and savings was more than enough and we still have some savings left too. We’ve got a good little apartment here next to Mina’s. They said it will just be temporary until treaties have been settled, so I wonder where we will go next. Despite everything, I rather do like looking at the sea. I’ve met a few army soldiers that say they’ve met you.

You don’t know how proud I am to be your wife.

I’ll be waiting for you.

Your faithful wife, Midoriya Y/N

To my darling husband,

I heard you’ll be coming back anyday now!! I sure hope that you’re on the next ship over! I can’t wait to see you! 

I’ll be waiting on the docks for you.

Your faithful wife, Midoriya Y/N

-Glitch1d

[stylespresleyhearted]

THE MAJOR’S WIFE

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, adultery, nsfw, marital problems, oral (m! receiving), spanking, being turned on even when your brain isn’t in it, bucky in 1x04, bucky married pre-war, slight age gap bc reader can come off slightly immature (i think?) angst, historical inaccuracies, new mediocre writer be nice

summary: John Egan gets to know his wife again

word count: 9.7k

notes: i’m not sure where this came from i wrote it all today and got no part of my research paper done. there’s really no point to it and also irl john egan was actually really close to his mother so i emphasized that here. he wrote to her so much. no disrespect to any of the real people, this is based on the show/show timeline as well.

Lila gets the call on the 2nd of October and her dreams come true.

Not entirely, no. The real dream would be having him home safe and the tragic war being over but she knows how fortunate she is to have the next best thing happen. Her husband’s been granted a few days leave and Colonel Harding believed it would do Major Egan some good to have his sweet, young wife join him during those days overseas. For the good of John’s mental health the Colonel or the President - or whoever was in charge, Lila really had no idea - had agreed to pay for her ticket and their hotel. There was only one thing they asked for in return and although it wasn’t explicitly said, Lila caught their drift: sort your husband out.

Lila knows it would do her no good to sit and wonder how horribly John must be doing in order for them to declare an all expenses paid trip for his spouse. All she does is worry for him anyhow so she forces herself to focus on the one good thing of the entire ordeal - she’s going to see her man.

There’d been letters, although not as many as she liked and she tried not to let it show how it hurt as every other wife received more than one letter at a time. Her John wasn’t the sort, she knew that when she married him. He was the kind of person who needed endless skies and land to maintain his sense of stability. Having him cooped up would do him no good and she partly wondered how much of what he was struggling with was the trauma he witnessed in the air and how much of it was feeling caged on base. At least his plane, good ol’ Mugwump (he wrote about her quite often) offered him the opportunity to head anywhere he wanted.

The only person he wrote consistently and readily to was his mother. It was rare if a week went by and she received no letter. During these instances it was more times than not an issue with the postal service.

Be that as it may, Lila knew who she married and it made her love him no less so she tried not to let it get to her. His mother was a saint. Firm and strong and loving all the same. Lila would have never survived sending John off if his mother wasn’t who and how she was. She held Lila at night when her cries woke her and she let Lila sleep in his old childhood bed. She kept food on their table and ensured everyone got their work done through the worry.

When John first left and Lila was sick to her stomach and vomiting multiple times of the day it was his mother who consoled her through the night when her sheets turned a crimson red and any ideals of having their baby through the war was lost.

Frances Egan was the glue holding them together. All of them, even her son who was an entire ocean way - so no. Lila would not be angry that she was John’s preferred pen-pal.

“You fix him right up,” Mama Egan had said in lieu of goodbye when leaving her at the airport, “you give him the loving he needs as his wife and the smacks he needs from me to get on the straight and narrow before sending him off to continue saving the world. You do it for him, not for any of them war bastards. You hear me?”

All Lila could do was nod. Dropping her bags on the floor and clutching her pseudo mother tightly. She was excited as she was frightened.

They had only gotten two months together before he had been pulled away. She didn’t want to complain, loads of women had gotten less time at all while others had only ever been left with the promise.

But her two months as Mrs. Egan? They’d been a dream. Her man was a romancer. He hadn’t hesitated in introducing her as the newly (and younger) Mrs. Egan, always resulting in an arm slap from his mother, he held open doors and he never stopped courting her; however she thinks the best times were when he was teaching her how to act married.

In their bed, at a home he had spent a year building for them. Using any extra pennies he had to pay off younger boys to help him hurry it along. Giving her the wrap-around porch she had always envisioned.

He showed her how to kiss. How to undress him. He had laid her underneath him, using his large frame to cover her completely, protecting her from the cold as he threw the sheets off them and making her feel tiny compared to him. She had never felt safer.

It had hurt the first time but he had held her through it. Never allowing any inches of space between their bodies; as if telling her they were in it together. She’d always known he was large, everything about him was large in general, but she never thought how much it would hurt to have all of him fit inside her. Lila hadn't wanted to disappoint him so she tried to muffle her tears and whimpers but he had swallowed her cries and gone slow, soft.

“If this is it, it’ll be enough,” he had promised, only about half way inside her and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. As a thank you she had taken that calloused thumb into her mouth and sucked. He allowed her; hiding his face in her neck and pressing wet kisses along there.

And for the first few times that had been it. She couldn’t take all of him and his thrusts couldn’t get too deep so he would only slip inside until her tight hole resisted and pulsed and he’d hump against that spot until reaching his pleasure.

“Do other girls take all of it?” She had asked a couple days later, trying to wrap her head around it.

She was no idiot. John Egan was no virgin.

“Yes.” Lila could always count on him to be honest. At least there was that. Meanwhile she couldn’t even fully pleasure him. She was failing as a wife. “Hey,” he lay facing her and she lay on her back. He tapped her cheek until she turned her face. “You’re my wife. That’s what makes this feel better.”

And she had beamed at his reassurance even though she didn’t feel much better. She knew John would never push her, and he couldn’t stand to see her cry, so if she ever wanted to learn to be a good wife she would have to take it upon herself.

So that’s what she did.

He was always on top and she was always on her back. That’s the first thing she had to change. From her understanding of it, from her talks with friends that always ended in giggles and blushing cheeks and from what she learned from John, it could be done in many different ways.

“I prefer to be in charge,” her school friend, Linda, had admitted to her. “Not like that -” she clarified, cheeks pink, “Just - if I’m gonna take it, I’d rather do it at my pace. Be on top. Some husbands are good like that. They’ll allow it.”

And knowing her husband wasn’t just good, he was great, she knew he would hold no qualms about it. The next time they lay in bed kissing it was easy to turn him over and straddle him. Move her wetness against his belly to let him know there was still more she just needed him to accept it.

Except he thought she was asking him to do it so he flipped her on her back again. And without breaking their kiss, she turned him over again.

It was more like they were wrestling.

Lila pulls away from his mouth, reluctantly, noticing his lips were wet and red and swollen and wondering if hers were much the same. They had been kissing for so long her mouth felt raw.

She loved it.

Straddling him, she reached behind her, feeling him standing straight and hard against her backside in between her cheeks. Sticky.

He gasped, bucking into her fist with a loud, guttural groan. It was so manly she rocked against his stomach again in need.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, “what’re you doing?”

“I want to try it like this,” she breathed, leaning over to whisper in his mouth, her tiny hand still wrapped around him and lining her up to her hole. “I want it all.” Lila clarified.

And John allowed it, like she knew he would. Let her take control and go at her pace. Let her swivel her hips on the way down to help with the tightness of being stretched so wide and thick.

Nothing but curses and promises of love leaving his lips. Gasping mine, mine, mine and my perfect fucking wife and I’m gonna fuck you forever.

He felt large inside of her, like if she was being split in two but it felt so good as the tip of him repeatedly hit a spongy part inside that had her coming with no contact to her clit for the first time.

She was beautiful, red splotches appearing on her body from the heat of their love-making, her hair tangled in his fists, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back - all of it was too much. He was flipping her over and pounding into her trying to chase his peak and a second one from her, their headboard banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.

Things changed from then on. Sexually, that is. Becoming aware of how badly she needed to feel like she was pleasing him, John was not above using it against her. Like letting him lick at her.

“Good wives allow their husbands everything,” he would say, lips wide in a smile and eyes bright at the prospect of getting his way but Lila always knew the choice was really hers. He would respect what she wanted.

He was just too damn addicting. She couldn’t stand to tell him no.

His favorite times were when she allowed him to sit her over his face and let him feast. It drowned the outside world for him and he kept at it even after she had reached multiple orgasms and was pulling on his hair and the only thing keeping her up was his forearms locking around her thighs.

Her favorite was when he allowed her to taste him at the same time he was licking her. It was a tie between those times and when he held her down until all of him was in her mouth and she was spluttering, choking, gagging. Knowing she made a filthy vision and he adored it did something to her.

Now she was in London, closer to him than she had been in years, and all their intimacies were within reach. She could almost taste him, feel him petting back her hair and settling a hand at the low of her back. She still remembers the smell of his after shave and sweat, how he’d come into the kitchen asking for some of her homemade lemonade to help with the heat.

Jack Kidd was tasked with picking up Mrs. Egan from the airport and having her arrive at base with him. She remembers meeting him a couple of times before John shipped out early. Originally she was meant to wait for John at their hotel but there had been an issue when planning her flight and she arrived sooner than intended.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, placing a friendly kiss on her cheeks and taking her bags from her. “Bucky’s gonna be happy as hell to see your face.”

The tone in his voice - relief? alleviation? - had some of her happy wife's facade crumbling. How badly was her Johnny hurting that everyone was looking at her at his only chance to remain sane or alive?

Stop it. Maybe everyone’s just aware Johnny misses you. You’re his wife.

“Not as happy as me, I wager,” she returned with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, Jack. Glad to see you still kicking.”

His shrug didn’t soothe her worry but she saw him try to mask it with a smile.

“All we boys can do is pray.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gathering his attention. “You boys have got the prayers of our entire country protecting you.”

Jack simply nodded in response.

For the most part the ride to base was quiet. Her bags would be kept in the trunk until her and John were ready to drive out to London in a couple of hours and until then, she’d be his surprise at the officer’s club. Silver Wings, Jack called it. Where all the boys gathered and had drinks and celebrated accomplishments. And where some chose to mourn, too.

Her stomach was turning as she neared the hut, following Jack’s footsteps. There was so much that could go wrong and although this was meant to be a surprise, the U.S Army showing their gratitude towards a brave Major, she suddenly wished she would have called John and told him. She wished he knew so that she wouldn’t have to walk in feeling alone and unwanted.

Not that Lila thought John would turn her away, she simply wanted to have him hold her hand as she walked through the threshold.

“Stick close by,” Jack murmured, being respectful of where he touched her before deciding to lead her by her shoulder. “It gets crowded but I’ll take ya to him.”

As she walked through different groups, she felt the offending eyes of men and women alike. Wondering who she was. With a pang in her heart she realized she had met John’s squadrons before but all these crews were new. The boys she met, most of them at least from what she could tell, hadn’t made it. John never wrote about who passed away (except to inform her of Curt) ; most of their letters were him expressing his love and how he missed her so and asking what she got up to.

Having walked around the roundabout bar in the center of the room, her stomach in knots and fingers tangled in front of her - she caught sight of her husband smack middle in the dance floor. Pressed against a beautiful brunette.

Lila caught sight of him before even Jack did. That’s how connected she was to her husband. Jack whistled from beside her to gain Gale’s attention who was resting against the bar holding his signature ginger ale, also watching John Egan chat up the woman he was swaying with with something like disapproval in his eyes.

His large hands were occupying most of the space of her waist, keeping her body tethered to his as she laughed.

“Lila,” he gasped, eyes wide. He was smart enough to not turn and look at his buddy. To act as if nothing was amiss and she expected nothing less from Gale Cleven, “damn it all to hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Egan.”

Because he was close to John, he didn’t hesitate in wrapping her up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her tinted cheeks. He knew John wouldn’t mind.

When he pulled back she patted his chubby cheek in return, “You still shame the rest of us with your good looks, Gale,” she laughed. “I’ll let Marge know when I see her next.”

Lila also knew she would share with Marge that while Gale was being loyal, standing off to the side her husband was exchanging oxygen with a woman on the dance floor.

His cheeks tinted at the mention of his girl. Buck and Bucky were both aware Lila and Marge wrote to one another and visited each other whenever time made it possible.

“Colonel Harding said Major Egan was in need of something from home,” she said, studying his reaction to see what she could read but Gale had always been aloof, cold. He wasn’t close to her like he was with Marge and John.

Gale thought back to a few moments earlier when John had disrespected their Colonel and all his actions before that too - disrespecting superiors, drinking more consistently, becoming angry - hopelessness in his eyes.

“He’s in need of you Lila,” Gale clarified and it wasn’t lost on either one of them that he they were referring to was currently on the floor wooing another woman.

“Holy shit! It’s Mrs. Egan!” Hambone animatedly announced and suddenly it felt like the eyes of everyone in there were on her. Her cheeks tinted pink, never having been one for the spotlight like her husband.

She was greeted with welcoming cheers and hugs.

John, for his part, disentangled from the woman he was holding at the mention of his missus. He was sober enough to appear sheepish and guilty, but in the next second it was gone as he stalked towards her. Determined. Quick. His smile growing the more he neared like he was becoming more aware she was really there and it wasn’t a fucked up scenario in his head.

“God, Lila,” she managed to hear him say before she was elevated in the air, his arms tight around her waist and lifting her high so they were at face level and he could kiss her. Channeling his love and exuberance and aggression into kissing his wife. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s really you,” he was saying in between smooches, “I missed you. So fucking much, doll.”

Basking in his love she didn’t feel the need to mention the woman that was so kindly keeping him preoccupied before she entered.

She couldn’t help the first tear from falling or the rest from following. It was like the tightness in her chest unlocked as she finally got to hold him and feel his heat surround her. He still smelled of after shave and the same hair gel that was kept in their bathroom at home but he tasted strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and strawberry lipstick.

John tucked his face into her neck, setting her down and bending to her level. Sniffling in there as he continued to hold her.

“None of that,” she did her best to stop her voice from wobbling or breaking, “we’re together. That’s all that matters.” She drew his face out from where he had hidden to pepper him with a few more kisses.

None of it was enough.

The rest of the guys were kind enough to return to the dance floor and act like they couldn’t see them.

“Who? What - why? How?” He was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts in between the kisses he continued stealing from her.

She was crying and laughing and trying to return all his touches. It was a terribly difficult ordeal but she had never been happier.

“Colonel Harding called and said you had a weekend leave. He said he talked to some of the higher ups but they couldn’t allow you a leave home so this was the next best thing,” she explained, cupping his cheek as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He had minor scars that weren’t there before.

She wanted to kiss every single one of them.

He was still bent towards her height, taking her in as she was taking him in.

She forgot how blue his eyes were.

He was whole. Complete. Hers.

“You’re here for the entire weekend?” He asked to confirm and she nodded, laughing when he lifted her again with a loud whoop to celebrate. That got a few of the guys to join in although they had no idea what their Major was celebrating.

“I need you,” his voice suddenly dropped, setting her down as he turned to the door. “Let’s go.” He was buckling up her coat to make sure she was protected from the freezing London air. She was lucky he was too far gone to scold her for arriving with it unbuckled in the first place - she could get sick.

“John, John - relax, my sweet man,” she laughed, cupping his cheek to get his attention. “We can stay for a while. We don’t have to go yet.”

It’s why she was at the officer’s club in the first place. She had arrived early.

John turned stiff in her hold, straightening to his full height as he suddenly loomed over her. “I’ve got you in my arms for the first time and you want to stay here?” His voice was tight. His face stern.

“Yes - no, I -” she was unsure of where she went wrong or how to fix it. She clasped his hands in hers but he didn’t allow her to thread their fingers together so it was just her holding on. “I just meant we’ve got time, John.”

The way he was looking at her made her want to cry. She felt her lower lip quivering.

She felt ashamed, whispering, trying to get him to keep his cool.

“Time? Time?” He laughed loudly. She was mildly aware of Gale breaking away from a group of guys to near them, worried but she was mostly focused on John. The tense lines on his face even as he laughed and the quirked eyebrow even though she found no amusement in their situation. “You think I’ve got time? You have no idea what it’s like up there.”

She shook her head but didn’t try to verbally explain herself. She wasn’t sure she could manage a few words before breaking into tears.

“Come on, Bucky,” that was Gale stepping in to save the day. Perhaps the only person who could get John to listen. “When have you ever left before dancing with your girl? You gotta show these rookies how it’s properly done right?”

With Gale slapping a hand to John’s shoulders, he seemed to snap out of it. Releasing a deep breath and seemingly all the tightness in body with it.

He leaned down again, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clasping a hand around her neck so she wouldn’t pull her head back. As their eyes locked she felt a tear fall again and this one wasn’t happy. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. It’s this place. It’s fucking with my head.”

And she chose to believe him, nodding her head in understanding and trying not to think about how she wasn’t his preferred person to write letters to or the one who could clear his head.

Maybe the Colonel should have allowed a weekend pass for Gale and John.

Lila swallowed the thought, allowing John to pull her to the dance floor as he lost all anger and aggression and became charming and loving all over again.

“Everyone, this is my wife!” He bellowed and everyone cheered in response. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and -” he hiccuped and she realized he was drunker than she thought, “and I bet we can out dance any couples here tonight!”

So for the next hour she found herself being twirled around the dance floor by her husband. She almost forgot their prior negative interaction; his love and energy was so infectious. For the slow songs he would hold her close and she would rest her head against his chest, letting it lull her to a relaxing state. He was alive and she was with him. That had to be enough. For the more upbeat songs, he was challenging any couple beside them. Asking those sitting who were better dancers? Who could perform certain dance moves better?

And all throughout, he was like he used to be back home. Loud and happy and the center of attention, keeping everyone entertained. He kept announcing to his boys that his beautiful wife was there and then he’d place a wet kiss on her mouth that had their cheeks (and hers) turning red but all he would do is smile and continue on.

She was finally able to disentangle herself from him when Crosby pulled him in for a conversation. Lila wonders if her state of disheveled hair and panting breaths made him want to aid her in allowing her to sit and grab a refresher.

Once she accepts Crosby’s hug and cheek kiss, she excuses herself to go grab a drink. John only pulls her back once to steal a kiss before she gets too far.

Her lips might be bruised by the time they leave if he kept it up.

She orders a cup of ice water from the man tending the bar, looking back out at her husband as she waits. He’d always been tall and strong, but she notices the change in his posture. The bulges in his arms as he twirled her around and lifted her in the air. His eyes were only bright when he forced it. They had lost their shine and she wishes she brought the picture from back home. Where he looks young and full of life and joyful. Even when he smiles he seems hollow; hopeless.

She’s there but he doesn’t really care because in his head he’s already thinking of when she leaves again.

She wasn’t used to that. Her John only lived in the moment.

“He keepin’ you busy?”

Gale settles up behind her and pushes the glass water towards her. She didn’t even notice when it was put down.

“Dizzy, more like,” she jokes and gets him to crack a smile. She thinks to when she walked in and seen Gale, how he’d been watching the scene unfold but with a disapproving look in his eyes. How he didn’t try to hide the scene from her or excuse it. He let it be. And she knows John has never shied away from attention. He’s always been handsome and charming and girls always swarmed but Lila wasn’t aware she had to be around to keep him loyal. She thought he just was. And she knows it’s not too long before they leave now so she decides to be direct with him. “So, does that happen often?”

She sees Gale’s expression split for a second, like he debates playing dumb before deciding against it and she respects him even more for it.

“I think you should talk to John about it.” He decides on.

“Is it something that needs to be mentioned?” She doesn’t like playing this game with him but she knows at the first words of cheating and adultery Gale is going to excuse himself and her chance will be lost.

She can’t be simple and ask: Does my husband cheat on me?

“Another ginger ale, Marty,” Gale raises two fingers to grab the man’s attention and mutters a thanks as his drink is immediately refilled. He turns his attention back to Lila. “He still loves you, Lila. It’s just - hard. Being out here.”

“You seem to be coping fine.”

She feels bitter. Crazy. There’s a sob she has to choke back.

Lila’s too embarrassed to meet Gale’s gaze. Ashamed that everyone knows what’s been going on and she was the ditzy woman being twirled on the dance floor.

“I think I was used to loneliness. He isn’t.”

And he says nothing else as he leaves her behind heading back to his boys. It’s just Lila and her shattering heart and her husband calling to beckon her back to the dance floor.

Luckily they didn’t stay much longer. She walked over to Bucky but he wasn’t able to pull her back out for a dance - it’s my song, Lila! - because Jack Kidd was approaching, letting them know it was time to leave them at the train station.

Lila waited in the car while Bucky ran into his quarters to pack his bag. He didn’t have many things to take, he would be stuck wearing his uniform anyway. Gale walks him back out to the car and despite the earlier conversation Lila exits the safety of the interior to say her goodbyes.

“Take care of yourself, Major,” she squeezes him, “I need you to stick around after this weekend to look after my man.”

“It’s a hard job but I try,” he replies, both of them ignoring Bucky’s protests.

Besides that, Bucky’s quiet on the ride to the train station. He carries her bag on board but he’s quiet for the duration of the train ride. Lila doesn’t disturb him; he might be tired or hungover or both.

And if she’s honest she’s scared of him snapping at her like the night before.

Instead she takes the time to take him in. He’s handsome in his suit. Tall and big and strong, his sharp jaw and powerful mouth, his eyes blue like a sunny day and his curls coming undone from the gel after all the dancing he did.

Lila doesn’t allow her mind to wander down this path too often but suddenly she can’t help it. Would their baby have looked like him or like her? She wishes more than anything they would have had his ears. She wishes they would have had his heart and his strength - but her loyalty. Her faith in them.

It’s crazy when she stops to think she was nineteen when she married him and now she’s twenty-one. She’s loved him for more than she’s been allowed to have him. She has changed without him like he has without her and it’s frightening to think neither of them could be accepting of those changes. Whatever they may be.

Lila shuts those thoughts out, closing the distance between them to sit on his lap. Passerby’s and his horrible mood and what scares her could be damned to hell - all she wants is her man.

John doesn’t deny her; she admits she was a little scared he would.

“I love you,” she tells him, catching his eyes.

“I know.”

He doesn’t return the words as they continue staring at one another but she refuses to let it get her down. This is her husband. She has the rest of her life to get to know him; new or old habits, she doesn’t care.

So instead, Lila plasters a smile onto her face. “What’re you gonna show me first in London, Major?”

“Well I really wanna show you our hotel room,” he plays along, allowing her to trace the edges of his mustache. She lets out a knowing chortle. “And I really want to show you -” he cuts himself off to look around, making sure no one was near them as he leans in to whisper, “- my cock, Mrs. Egan.”

She turns a bright red, trying to sputter out a proper response for that but all she can do is indignantly scold him. “John Clarence! If your mom were here -” and they both break out in loud laughter at the many possibilities of what his mother would exactly do to him if she heard his wicked mouth.

“Wanna grab some grub first?” He asks instead, knowing she hadn’t eaten at the officers club and before then she had been stuck on a plane. “I know a few places.”

Lila nods happily, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips are warm and as plump as she remembers them. His mustache tickles her.

“Let me feed you first, woman!” He groans, trying to be a gentleman. “When’s the last time you ate?”

She puckers her lips to think about it and that’s the only answer he needs: food is definitely first.

When they arrive at the hotel John enters to check them in but he slips a few bills into the bell boy’s hand with strict instructions to leave the bags in their room before pulling her back out to the London streets.

Lila felt underdressed surrounded by women in diamonds and fancy hats, and it didn’t help that John was beside her in his uniform looking dapper and catching the eye of many. They were stopped multiple times on the way to the diner; men wanting to shake his hand and show their gratitude while the women introduced themselves, uncaring of Lila under his right arm.

As long as he wasn’t ignoring or dismissing her she realized she didn’t really care. It wasn’t much different back home; everyone knew and loved John Egan.

The diner he chose was small and cozy and his legs were too long to fit under their table so his boot and his knee kept bumping into her own and she adored it. She wanted to feel close to him and since sitting on his lap currently wasn’t an option she figured this would have to do.

He tells her many stories but none of them are sad or tragic. He only shares the happy ones. He talks about how he convinced the Colonel to allow Buck, Curt, and himself a London weekend pass one time and they had shoved Gale into a haberdashery where he tried on a multitude of top hats worth more money any of them would ever see combined. But because they were soldiers and majors at that, the owner allowed it. There’s a museum nearby he talks about wanting to take her too, it showcases art from as early as the 1400s and he says he’s gotten lost in there plenty of times and it was lovely.

All the while, she listens without hearing him. Choosing to take him in and letting her mind wander to how it would be if things were different. It pains her to think how much older he looks since she last saw him. Looking more like it was ten years instead of the measly two. John’s always been one to smile freely but the wrinkles by his mouth, eyes, and forehead aren’t from smiling or laughing too much.

Lila knows they’re from worrying and stressing and being scared and she hates that she can’t understand him or be there for him. No matter how hard he tries.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when a sob breaks free. She curls in over the table and John’s reaching over to rub her shoulders. She grabs a hold of her hand in his. “I just missed you so much.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t think I know how to not miss you.”

John doesn’t say anything but he motions a server over to settle the bill and once that’s done, he’s taking her hand and pulling her out the chair.

“You got enough food in you?”

All she can do is nod.

Her body feels electric on the short walk back to the hotel. He doesn’t do more than hold her hand and she thinks that is what has her nerves jittery, his palm in her hand sets her alight. She can feel his rough skin and the calluses on his fingers and the fingertips he runs over her skin and she bites back a moan.

Moaning in the middle of a bustling London street? She’d be thrown into an asylum she’s sure.

Beside her he’s quiet but his steps are quick. She has to lightly jog to keep up with long strides. He pulls on her hand to help her keep pace. It makes her think he’s as impatient for it as she is so she was surprised when upon closing the hotel room behind him he stays by the door. Not nearing or touching or kissing.

Just - nothing.

Her throat becomes tight again as she remembers the girl from the night before and her conversation with Gale. Is that the reason why?

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before she can spiral any further. Approaching her and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss, wasting no time in sliding his tongue alongside hers.

“I love you,” she responds and once again he doesn’t say it back. She figured he wouldn’t but she wanted to try. He takes her mouth in his again.

She gets irrationally angry, suddenly feeling the need to claim him so she bites at his bottom lip. He pulls back to press a finger to his lip, wiping the blood there.

Lila pulls on his belt, dropping to her knees right there in the middle of the room.

Mine. He’s mine.

“Make me your wife again,” she’s not sure but it sounds like she’s begging as she manages to unbuckle his belt and pull them around his strong thighs.

“God,” he breathed, “fuck. Look at you.”

Swollen lips parted for him to put to use. John wrapped his fist around her long hair to maintain a good grip, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat. There was no resistance, no gag, her body remembering how it was taught to take all of him even though time had passed. John loved that fucking mouth and he found himself angry as thoughts entered his mind - if anyone had fucked her mouth while he’d been away - and he jerks his hips more forcefully. Rough.

This time Lila does gag. Her hand goes to push against his hip but he doesn’t allow her to pull away.

“Did anyone else do this?”

She splutters, eyes on him and confused with a mouthful of cock, unable to talk.

“Did you suck someone else’s cock? This is mine, Lila. Mine.”

He holds her down for a couple of more seconds before allowing her reprieve. She sputters and coughs, looking at him the entire time.

His dick is still hard and long, standing to attention, and he’s not sure whether he should apologize before she’s taking his bobbing dick back into her mouth. To the back of her throat and gulping and fondling his balls. Her nose kissing the coarse hairs on his belly trail and although it feels fucking amazing - he can feel the anger too. Her anger.

How dare he accuse her.

When she pulls off there’s a strand of saliva connecting his prick to her tongue. She has half a mind to go back for more but he’s pulling her back by her hair.

“I’m so lucky to have a wife who’s cock hungry,” he groans, pulling her to her feet by her hair and connecting their mouths in a rough kiss. Their teeths crash and tongues wrestly and he feels fucking crazy that she tastes like him. Simultaneously ripping each other’s clothes off.

Lila didn’t have any warning. One second she was kissing him and ripping open his shirt and the next she was bent over the bed with her ass in the air. John ran a finger over the wet patch on her underwear. The bite on her cheek was also unexpected and she clawed at the sheets, sure she could come from the feeling alone.

“This is mine, Lila,” he leaned in close, burying his face in her underwear. “Mine.”

All she could do was whimper and agree.

John smacked her ass so hard it jiggled. Lila yelled and after the pain ceded, time seemed to stop. Nothing but their rough breathing filling the room. John had never done that before.

She wasn’t sobbing but there were tears escaping. She was sure he didn’t know. He was waiting for a reaction.

Lila wasn’t sure where this side of her husband came from. Had he held back those two months? Did he learn it in Europe? Was that why there was another woman - because she couldn’t satisfy him?

She can’t lose him.

“Please,” she begs, hiding tears in the duvet, “do it again.”

Lies. It was all lies but John believes her and he strikes again. She yelps, fisiting the sheets. He believes it’s in pleasure.

Ten slaps. That’s how many she endures before he begins shushing and petting her again. He runs his fingers through her folds and although she didn’t enjoy the punishment mentally - she did nothing wrong, he was the liar - her body certainly did. She’s sopping wet, she’s gonna have to throw out her underwear because they’re destroyed.

“Did you enjoy that?” He grabs a fistful of her hair to sit her up, her back against his sweaty, matter chest. “You like being spanked, baby?”

“Yes.” It’s only half of a lie.

“Now - now, I’m going to fuck you. Nice and hard, just how you like it,” she wants to scream at him. She wants to hit him. When did she ever like it hard? When was hard ever nice? Who was he thinking about because it wasn’t her.

But at the same time she rocks back against him to feel his cock hard between her cheeks. She can’t say she doesn’t want it. Him. This.

He pushes her back down at her teasing, using his now free hands to spread her cheeks and show her tight asshole. Untouched and pure. He presses the tip of his cock against it but he doesn’t push. He doesn’t move.

She jerks at the pressure. Drools on the mattress as she tries to bite down to temper her screams.

Do it.

No, don’t.

“One day,” he promises, pressing deeper so her hole opens but not deep enough to push. “But today, today I want this.” And without any prepping like she’s used to, without any more warning, he’s sliding down and pushing into her. Hard. Deep.

She screams, can’t help it, claws at the mattress in an attempt to crawl away.

It hurt but it felt so good.

Who was she?

“You think you can go be with other men? Let them use the holes I trained? The ones that belong to me?” He pumps into her deep. Once, twice. She’s so wet the noises filling the room are pornographic, her yelling and his panting and her sopping wet vagina smacking against his thighs and taking his cock so well. “You like it like this, Lila? Like when I fucking own you?”

“Yes, yes,” she swears and this time she isn’t lying. It’s all she can manage; she thinks she’s gone cock dumb. There are no words, no feelings, just the feeling of him filling her.

She clenches tight when he slides out. She wants him inside her forever.

He releases his hold of her hair, stepping away. He’s tired of muffling her moans and words. He’s tired of not being able to see her beautiful face.

John’s favorite face in the entire world.

“Turn around,” he commands.

Lila kneels on wobbly legs as she turns over, having little to no energy and bouncing as her body lands with no grace on the mattress. John grabs one of her jiggling breasts in his large hand, squeezing tightly.

“I fucking missed these.” He takes one in his mouth, biting down on her nipple hard. She shrieks but holds his head to pull him closer.

Her thighs are forced open by his hand and then he’s taking hold of himself and thrusting in deep again. Releasing her breasts from his mouth in order to look at her mouth. Lila’s face when he’s fucking her is as close to heaven as he thinks he’ll ever get. She’s incoherent but she’s begging for more - that much he can make out. She manages to gather the strength to grab hold of him and pull him down, clawing at his back.

He hisses at the pain and bites on her collarbone to reciprocate it.

When she grabs the nape of his neck, the cool touch of her wedding ring against his skin, it gives him pause. This was his wife. His wife.

John has been gone so long he thinks he forgot he was married.

“I love you,” he finally says it, pressing his forehead against hers as he slows down. He sniffles then, leaning down to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against hers and swallow her moans. John can’t believe he forgot he had this; can’t believe he forgot for a minute how lucky he was. She’s gorgeous (and not just externally) and he’s quite sure he somehow managed to dream her up. “I love you,” he swears again.

This time she’s the one who doesn’t say it.

She clutches at neck and pulls him down to take a boob in his mouth. Looking him in the eye hurts too damn much. Why did he have to do this now? She was lost in the pain; she had been taking her punishment.

Lila squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly as she thrashed around the bed. Her orgasm taking over her body. She wrapped both legs tighter around John, squeezing and pulsing around him and dragging him to the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck,” he roared, “so damn tight. Yes, Lila. My perfect wife.”

For a couple of seconds, they lay in the aftermath. Lila could feel the heat of John’s breath against her neck. She counted how many breaths they shared in between one another as they recuperated.

Forty-seven that’s how many breaths they shared as they stayed connected.

Forty-eight that’s when John managed to lift his head and place a peck against her mouth. One she didn’t return.

Forty-nine that’s when John pulled back in concern. Lila was so still.

Fifty. That’s the breath she used to say, “you cheated on me,” looking him right in the eyes as she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.

She cried and cried underneath him. Unable to move because her legs felt like jello and they held no power. Unable to push him off because she didn’t want to let him go. Unable to speak because she was suffocating in her heartbreak.

John watched her until he couldn’t, until he was afraid she was going to choke on her own tears and then he was sitting her up, trying to ignore the way she fought against his touch.

I’m sorry, I’m here, he kept saying.

I hate you, she thought but didn’t say.

Until finally, “don’t touch me!” She yelled when he got too close and made to wrap her up in a hug. “Get away from me, John. Stay away.” She crawled to the edge of the bed and curled herself into a tiny ball. Aware she was fully naked and he was still leaking out of her but she couldn’t find it in herself to do anything except cry.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t open her lungs and get any air in. She slapped at the headboard, aware that she was having a panic attack as suddenly everything hit her all at once. It was entirely consuming and she couldn’t do anything to fight against it except cry. All the feelings rushed her at once.

This was going to be it. The weekend of two lovers reunited was the weekend from hell and this was going to be it. She was going to return home in a day and he would stay in Europe and continue to fight the war and seek out other girls and when he returned she wouldn’t be his wife anymore.

Lila would be scornful and full of resentment and miserable and he would leave her. This last time was going to be all she had and she hated him for ruining it.

Why couldn’t he hide his affairs better?

Why did she have to surprise him?

She was perfectly happy not knowing. She was worried and stressed to hell and crying every night missing him but, oh God, all that was better than this.

Lila isn’t sure how long it’s been since she last took a breath but she feels herself fading. She’s shivering and naked in their bed and she can only slightly take in that John’s wrapping her up in the duvet and curling himself around her to warm her up. She’s trying to tell him she can’t breathe, she’s suffocating, at the same time he’s blowing air in her face.

She’s fading when she feels it. A sting on the left side of her face. Hard and sharp and enough to have her gasping for a deep breath.

“Baby, please, wake up,” he’s crying over her, his head on her chest, “wake up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her chest aches. She coughs.

He whips his head up so fast she almost laughs. Almost.

“Lila,” he holds her against his chest, rocking them back and forth on the bed as she takes in her surroundings. She isn’t sure how long she was out or how long she was panicking for. Had the sun been setting while she lost her shit? It was dark outside now. “Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. Please.”

She taps at his arms to get him to release. She doesn’t think she can talk.

John allows her the space but he doesn’t remove himself from the bed. He stays kneeling, watching her. His hands keep twitching like he wants to reach out and touch her but he’s trying to respect her wishes of not being touched.

She doesn’t lay back down, she stays resting against the headboard. Breathing hurts. She’s scared of suffocating once more. Her left cheek begins burning and she wishes she had the strength to go look in the mirror. Did he mark her? She hopes he did.

Lila’s glad he made it hurt.

“You need to go,” she finally manages to say, ignoring the way he’s already shaking his head in defiance. “Leave me here, John. I want you to go. Get another room.” Find another woman. “I leave in a day.” She wishes she never came to stupid London. She wishes she could forget this entire trip.

“Lila it’s the war,” he starts, shaking in his own tears. “It’s all the shit I see, baby. None of it was because of you okay? None. You don’t fucking know what it’s like up there for us but I stay alive in hopes of coming home to you.” He promises.

She shakes her head, fighting back any more tears. How the hell could she still have any tears left?

“But Gale didn’t cheat,” it bursts out of her before she can stop it and she knows it’s the wrong thing to say entirely.

John stops his apologies, clearing his throat as he gets up and begins dressing into his suit. She doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t take back any of what she said. She gets tired of sitting so she lays on her side, staring out the window and noticing London doesn’t have many stars. Is that why it’s so horrible here? Because there were no stars to wish upon.

She could hear his boots stomping on the ground as he reached the door. “Maybe you should have married Gale fucking Cleven then.” And the door slams shut behind him.

She wonders if he’s angry enough to find a girl and sleep with her. Her eyes blur. The time on the clock is six p.m and London’s already dark. She realizes she hasn’t slept since her plane ride. About 19 hours awake - her and John.

Lila allows her eyes to close, hoping when she wakes everything will be better.

Shadows over her eyelids wake her up. Lila finds she hasn’t moved. She’s in the same position facing the window. Facing London, only now bombs are dropping over it. The prettiest colors burst forward in the window but she knows it's truly only tragedy and loss. Murder.

She recognizes John sitting in the arm chair and she wonders when he got back. He isn’t facing her, he’s watching bomb after bomb drop and land no more than mere miles away from them. He’s holding a whiskey on ice, twirling the ice so it hits against the glass.

Lila wonders then if it was the shadows or the noise that woke her up.

“I must have punched in my card a long time ago,” his voice is strong in the dead of the night, seemingly even louder than when he’s singing in the pub. “It must be the reason for all of this. Karma.” He scoffs.

I deserve this, is what he’s trying to say.

Lila feels her stomach twist and spin and there’s bile sitting in her throat. She closes her eyes to stop herself from imagining John in a plane, dropping a bomb that lands on children. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the hurt sitting on his shoulders.

She remembers how angry she was when he first signed up. Before they were married. They had been dating for over a month, barely, and she already scribbled ‘Mrs. Egan’ over her notebooks. She’d heard it from his younger sister, Eileen, and she felt her world stop. She hadn’t hesitated to run to the stables he worked at and confront him in front of all the men.

“You’re leaving me,” she had accused him. “You’re gonna leave! I’ll never forgive you, John Egan.”

And in front of everyone he’d knelt down and produced a ring, the one his father had given his mother and said, “Marry me.” He didn’t ask because they both knew it wasn’t a question.

She was already his.

And he was hers.

Lila had forgiven him and promised to love, honor, and obey for the rest of her life.

She doesn’t have the strength to stand so even though her throat burns she speaks. “Lay with me,” she croaks. Her voice is raspy and broken and even clearing it aches.

John shakes his head. “You don’t want me to.”

“Lay with me,” she repeats, firm. “I just want to fall asleep with you.”

He looks at her like he's scared to believe. Trying to figure out whether she’s simply being cruel and going to kick him out in her next breath. Or more likely, he’s scared she’ll lose her shit being near him again.

John, hopeful and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, sets his drink down and nears the bed. Lila keeps her eyes locked on his and he does the same. Their moves and tension resemble a game of chicken, one of them afraid any sudden change can have the other running off.

“Take off your uniform,” she says when he pushes back the covers while still fully dressed. He jerks his head in confusion and she bites her lip to contain a laugh at his dirty mind. Sex is the last thing on her mind. “I want to feel you, that’s all.”

John does as she asks, setting his cap down and shredding every layer before he’s naked and gorgeous and sliding in beside her. She doesn’t allow herself to think about what it means when she immediately slides closer.

Lila’s the one to wrap her arms around him.

Lila’s the one to intertwine their legs.

John follows her lead, lifting an arm so she can raise her head and use it as a pillow. She scoots her face closer and she nuzzles into her armpit, smelling his deodorant and feeling his hairs poke at her nose. She moves further along, escaping the cocoon of his armpit to press her cheek against his chest. She clutches his dog tags in her palm, tight, so he can’t get up in the middle of the night.

“Can we fall asleep together?” She asks, but when she looks up John’s already there.

The next time Lila wakes up her palm aches. She releases what she’s gripping, remembering how she clung to John’s dog tags when he slid into bed beside her. She lifts her head and finds John already looking at her.

He’s got the saddest eyes she’s ever seen and she hates that she’s partly why.

“We should talk,” her voice is low and cracks from not being used. John nods his head but makes no move to begin.

Lila lays her head back on his chest, lightly picking at his matted, curly chest hair. She presses her lips to a freckle near his nipple and his intake of breath lets her know he felt it,

“I’m not the one you write the most letters too,” she starts, finding it easier to not have to look him in the eye. “You write the most to your mom. And I’m not the one who can calm you down when your anger gets the best of you,” she’s so tired of crying, “that’s Gale. “And I can’t even be here for you at the end of a mission to console you or kiss you or help you forget,” she chokes on a sob. “That’s whoever else.”

I couldn’t even keep our baby healthy, she leaves out.

“What’s your point with all this, Lila?”

Lila lifts her head from his chest, “My point is I’m a horrible wife. I - I don’t know if it was too soon or just not thought out but this - I- ” she can’t get the rest of the words out.

“Don’t say that,” John sits up against the headboard, forcing her up as well. He grabs both her wrists in one of his hands to pull her closer and grab her attention. “Don’t fucking tell me that, Lila.”

“I don’t make you happy,” she shakes her head.

“You do. Everything I do, everything I’m doing - it’s for you Lila.”

“I don’t want to marry Gale. Or someone like him. I love you. Only you. But I’m scared that I don’t make you happy. You deserve better.”

“Oh you dumbass,” John coos, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing. He pulls her in for a hug. “You’re my entire fucking heart, Lila Egan. You don’t think you make me happy? You’re the only thing in my life, in my head, that makes me happy.”

She pulls away to hold his face. “If you’re gonna leave me John you need to tell me now. I don’t care about the girls if all they are is to pass the time. And I don’t care that you write to your mom more than me and I don’t care that Gale is the one you listen to but I just need to be the one you love the most. I need to know I’m making you happy.”

His heart aches at the fact that he made her feel she was ever anything less than the most important person in his life. “Lila,” he presses a kiss to her lips, “Rose,” another kiss, “Egan,” another. “Are my only reason for staying alive.”

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

feeling veryyyy normal thinking about being offered as part of bounty to the ghoul because the bounty poster doesn’t end up having the caps they promised him. and they need to pay him somehow. they’ll offer him their lil captive vaultie as payment for the rest. 👉🏻👈🏻 will he accept?🫣

A Fair Trade

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,980

Warnings: smut (18+), p in v sex, oral (m receiving), creampie, sex as payment for debt, human trafficking typical of the Fallout universe.

Summary: The Ghoul always gets what's owed to him.

Notes: Oh, wow! My first submission-type ask! I'm genuinely super flattered and totally open to doing more. I initially ballparked that this would be around 2,500 words and it ended up almost 4,000 because I have no self control when it comes to this man. I will try to keep other submissions a little shorter, generally, to hopefully get them out quicker.

To the anon: This may have turned out...sweeter than you may have envisioned? Maybe that's not the word. Less rough? If so, my apologies! I hope you still enjoy.

Things had been...unfortunate for you since you had decided to leave your vault.

Looking for a taste of something new, chasing the feeling that the world had other things for you to experience, you had managed to make it to the nearest settlement of any import with only a few scrapes and bruises. But, regrettably, you lacked a true understanding of how cruel and selfish people on the surface could be, and you quickly ended up the captive of some random outpost runner.

Well, you'd been traded to the outpost runner. You still weren't quite sure how that had come about, even after weeks and weeks had passed, but, frankly, the scrawny, dirty man was a lot less scary than the guy who had initially captured you. He wasn't not scary by any means (no one up here really was, as far as you could tell); he still confiscated your things and locked you into the small room in the back that you were fairly confident was intended to be a closet every night, but he hadn't really done anything to hurt you so far. You were given a pillow, at least.

But you were growing increasingly uneasy with not knowing what his plans for you were. Worst case scenario, you guessed, he could kill and eat you like you'd heard some surface people did, but that didn't seem to be the case. Nevertheless, the way he eyeballed you, "accidentally" brushed against you with increasing frequency, made you uneasy. Maybe he'd bought you to be his wife, or whatever the Wasteland equivalent would be. You imagined that in the next few weeks he'd offer you more favorable sleeping accommodations...so long as you shared them with him.

Maybe you could accept, kill him in his sleep and flee. You really didn't treasure the idea of ending someone's life, but...you needed to get out of here, and soon.

The sound of the creaky, rusted front door hinges flexing drew your attention, distracting you from your bloody ruminations and the pile of scrap you'd been sorting through. The front office hadn't been loud, but the small murmur of voices instantly faded, a clatter of movement towards the door, followed by some very familiar sounding footfalls. He was back.

The tall, noseless, rad-ravaged man made his way in multiple times a month, sometimes even multiple times a week when the bounties were easy and the work was plentiful. You'd seen each other somewhat often the past few weeks, as your keeper had begun to allow you to clean and assist in the front of the office more and more. It was both better and worse; the days passed with less tedium and you got to see some of the interesting characters the desert produced. However, many of those characters sized you up with predatory eyes, as if they were estimating how many caps they could sell your flesh for in their heads. The ghoul had yet to give you that feeling, interestingly enough.

You'd heard whispers all over town about him, about all the things he'd apparently done, how he was supposedly hundreds of years old. You didn't believe that for a single second. After all, despite his fascinatingly gruesome appearance, he was just a man, wasn't he? A man with very advanced radiation sickness (and a rather unfriendly general disposition), but a man nonetheless.

Sometimes, you felt as if he was certainly looking at you the way a man would. You were unsure, frankly; social etiquette was so vastly different on the surface than it was at home. It sure seemed like he let his eyes linger on you, on your body. Perhaps he was simply curious about you, as you were about him; most people seemed afraid to even look his way, or too disgusted by his condition to even consider it.

"You wanna run that by me again?"

Your ears pricked up instantly at the tone in the ghoul's voice, your heckles raising as you sensed trouble. Tiptoeing towards the door to the front room, you stood as close as you dared, shoulder touching the rotting door frame as you listened in.

"I told you, we were robbed a few nights ago. I don't have the full payment for you right now. This is everything I've got."

You knew your keeper was lying, about the robbery, at least; the place was so small that if anyone had been in to steal anything, you'd have certainly known about it. Whether or not he really had the caps, you didn't know, but you supposed he didn't, figuring that he wouldn't take the risk of pissing off the ghoul if he did. You had overheard him discussing gambling on a few occasions.

"Well, you better find something to make me whole, quick." came the ghoul's acidic reply.

On some level, you understood his frustration. The work was done, the bounty delivered. Un-delivering it wouldn't make up for all the time he'd put in. But, you also knew his reputation for being unforgiving, and you felt a chill run up your spine as you began to fear that he would kill your keeper and you if he didn't find some sort of satisfaction soon.

"I don't have anything worth anything. I told you, this is all I have." the scrawny man shot back, trying to sound confident, tough.

However, based on the way his voice trembled and faltered, the uneasy way he cleared his throat, you suspected the ghoul knew he was lying, too, confirmed only a moment later by what you were certain was the sound of a gun thwish-ing out of its holster and cocking. Your heart flew up into your throat, hammering even harder when, a second later, the lighter sounds of the scrawny man's footsteps rapidly approached the door of the back office. Scrambling back towards the desk, you'd only closed about half the distance when the door flew open, the man grabbing at you almost blindly, his long, dirty nails digging into your exposed wrist as he dragged you, protesting, out behind the counter.

"Hey!" you hissed, trying your best to snatch your arm back out of his grip and failing, infuriatingly. You were momentarily blinded with outrage that he would offer your body to someone to cover his own debts, though you supposed that was just how people did things in this awful place. Your eyes, feeling like they could pop out of your head they were so wide, flew to the man on the other side of the counter, who was assessing you with a look you couldn't read.

"What about her?" the scrawny man asked, and that was the final straw. If things were going to get worse for you, you weren't just going to accept it with a smile. The fingers on your free hand curled into a fist, which you smashed into the side of his face, causing him to release your arm in shock. Almost instantly, he jerked towards you, but the Ghoul pointed the modified pistol in his hand further into his face, stopping him.

"Now, how're you gonna offer me merchandise and then try to damage it in front of me?" he said, speaking to the man, but not looking at him. He was still looking at you, an intrigued glint in his eyes. They were...pretty, actually. Warm and golden brown. Was he really thinking about taking the offer? You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about what his body would be like underneath all the layers of clothing. However, the entire situation had your walls up high, your whole body trembling slightly.

The Ghoul stepped slowly around the counter towards you; the scrawny man shrunk away, the gun still pointed in his direction, while you held your ground, doing your best to keep your head held high as he stepped right into your bubble, your chests almost touching as he seemed to really size you up. After a moment of incredibly tense silence, his eyes moved to the door, then back to yours. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

"Alright. C'mon, Vaultie." he said simply, turning on one foot to make his way back to the other side of the counter. You hesitated, but soon moved to stand beside him, a surreal feeling washing over you.

"Hey! No fucking way, man! You can't just take her for keeps. She's worth way more caps than I owe you!"

The man was even more red-faced than usual, his tone downright indignant, but he didn't step out from behind the counter to follow.

"Ah, but, see, once we factor in the interest on my missed payment, hurt and suffering, on top of my 'you're a dumbshit' fee...I think it's a wash, personally." the Ghoul replied, leaning back over the counter into the man's dirt-speckled face. He clearly wasn't in a place of strength to negotiate, and his angry gaze moved to you again before he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What the fuck ever." he grunted.

You felt your body relax noticeably as the bulk of the conflict seemed to pass. However, there was a small amount of unfinished business you wanted to address before you left this place. You crossed your arms, turning your narrowed eyes to your former keeper, feeling emboldened with the Ghoul standing at your back.

"Where's my bag you took from me?"

Soon, you were back in possession of your things, including your Pip Boy, which you fretted over as you and your new keeper set out the door and into the desert heat. As you walked, you flexed the sore fingers on your hand absentmindedly. Soon, you were pouring sweat, pausing briefly to peel the top half of your vault suit down to your waist, tying the sleeves around you hips. The Ghoul appraised you silently as you did, taking a hit off of an inhaler from his pocket before continuing on.

As grateful as you were to be away from the trading outpost, away from the scrawny man and his uneasy ways, you couldn't help but worry in the back of your mind, fret at the possibility that you were going somewhere worse. It was being too trusting that got you into your situation to begin with. You worried at your lip with your teeth as he began to direct you down the road, his hand flat and firm between your shoulders. You weren't sure if the gesture was intended to be one of comfort, or if he was simply ready to snatch you up by the back of your vault suit if you decided to try to run.

The two of you walked in complete silence in the direction of the setting sun for what felt like a hundred miles. In truth, your Pip Boy revealed that you'd only gone a single mile and some change when the sun fully dipped behind the horizon, granting some blessed relief from the sweltering heat. You kept on a while longer, until the stars began to appear; eventually, the man veered from the decrepit highway, steering you to a little alcove in the rocky hillside, barely big enough to be a coyote's den.

"Alright, we'll bed down here for the night. Gettin' too dark to keep walkin'." he said, dropping his bag on the ground in a little cloud of dust as he turned to survey the site suspiciously.

You stood waiting for him to direct you, your fingers wrapped tight around the straps of your backpack, watching as he checked around wordlessly. After a few minutes, you chose one of the flatter rocks around and sat against it, watching as he built a small fire, inhaling some of the rations that had been hid away in your bag. Eventually, the ghoul threw himself down on the other side of the flames, facing the highway, and did the same, tucking into something canned from his bag. Things were quiet for a while, but eventually he spoke to you again, his voice pulling you away from fidgeting with with your Pip-Boy.

"Y'know, you're insanely lucky he didn't sell that thing. Can get quite a bit for a functional one these days. Moron didn't know what he had." he said, still chewing.

You blinked at him, your eyes flitting between the gadget on your arm and him, unsure how to respond. Briefly, you felt a growing sense of apprehension, but he must've sensed it, as he rolled his eyes and sighed softly as he swallowed.

"I'm just sayin' you're lucky you still have it, kid. Don't piss your pants. Trust me, if I wanted that thing, I'd have taken it from you already." he said, tossing the now-empty can over his shoulder.

You nodded silently, willing the tension out of your spine as you watched him dig around inside the oiled leather saddle bag once more. He produced a silver flask and a canteen, taking long pulls off of one, then the other. He then took another drag off of the inhaler he'd been puffing as you walked. Eventually, he stood, gave his back a stretch, and shrugged the long, tattered duster from his shoulders, splaying it out quickly on the ground behind him before turning back to face you.

"Alright, darlin'. Get your little ass over here."

You felt yourself freeze almost completely, your head turning sharply towards him. He hadn't said anything about the initial deal for so long that you weren't sure he was actually interested.

"What? I accepted you in lieu of payment. That means you are the payment, sweetheart. And I do intend to collect." he said, plainly amused, sinking down to the ground, his back sliding against the red rock behind him. "Besides, I've seen the way you look at me. Don't pretend you're not curious."

Your cheeks instantly felt agonizingly hot; had you been that obvious in your interest in him? Every day, something new in this place made you feel so silly, so naive. But, at the same time...he wasn't wrong. He might be rough-looking overall, but he'd been kind to you so far, and he did have quite a nice build. Besides, it had been weeks since you'd felt sufficiently alone enough to masturbate. A tad awkwardly, you went to lift yourself to walk to him when he cut you off.

"Mmm. How about you crawl?"

You felt your face twist into a mask of indignant confusion, and he chuckled. Hesitating, you made measured eye contact with him over the flames, quickly realizing, as those mischievous eyes glinted back at you, that he was serious. You swallowed hard, pulling yourself slowly onto your hands and knees before crawling the half-circle around the small fire as quickly and as dignified as possible, though there felt like there was very little dignity in it anyway. You stopped at his feet, kneeling with your hands on your thighs and looking up at him, trying your hardest to not seem as nervous as you felt.

"Take your shirt off." he ordered, head tilted as he watched you quickly pull the grimy undershirt over your head, tossing it near your bag. The night air was cool on your bare breasts, your sensitive nipples quickly peaking into hard little nubs that stung slightly. You wanted to press your warm palms to them, soothe the ache, but you didn't want him to think you were trying to cover yourself, so you simply sat, staring again, waiting for further instructions.

He grinned at you, leaning forward into your space, his gloved fingers stroking along your jaw, sliding a single one under your chin to lift your eyes fully to his. They were just as pretty glinting in the dying firelight as they had been in the outpost office.

"Y'know, you take direction pretty well, Vaultie. I like that in a lady." he said, tone low and conspiratory.

Your entire face burned now, even your eyes feeling hot, but that fire spread its way down into your core, blooming between your thighs, and you shifted slightly to press them together harder.

Reaching down, he made quick work of the belt holding up his pants and his fly, tugging free a cock that was about as red as the rest of him, the bulbous head glistening with precum already in the yellow-orange glow of the fire. Your tongue darted out to swipe at your lower lip, and you crawled up his legs to look closer. The Ghoul seemed surprised, leaning back ever so slightly from you as you came near, giving you room to move close and wrap your hand around him, drawing out a long hiss from between his yellowed teeth.

"Right on it, eh?" he chuckled almost breathlessly. "I like that in a lady, too."

You shot him a bit of a chastising look as you began to work your hand up and down over him, your free fingers coming to play along the weeping slit of him, earning another groan. He was a pretty average length for his height, you thought, but thick and already almost completely hard. It didn't seem like it would take much work to get him the rest of the way there. Your musings were interrupted by the feeling of his leather glove brushing against the swell of your breast before encaging the whole thing in his palm, massaging almost reverently. You whimpered when he plucked at your other nipple, sending shocks down your spine and straight to your already throbbing clit.

"Let's see what that pretty mouth is good for, hmm?"

Embarrassingly, you immediately dropped your head, pushing your body flat so you were sort of lying between his spread legs, bringing your lips down to hover a few inches above his leaking cock head. Tongue darting out to lap up a little taste of the shiny slickness there, you hummed; he tasted different than you were expecting, sort of the same, but with an almost metallic edge. You ran your tongue in a full circle around his tip, clenching around nothing when he groaned throatily, his right hand sliding through the dirt beside him.

"Fuck." he spat out when you unhinged your jaw, allowing the first few inches of him to fill your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard as your left hand continued to work the base of him. More and more precum leaked from the slit as you tongued at it, the taste and the knowledge that you were arousing to him making you rub your thighs together shamelessly.

"Play with your pussy." he commanded, clearly struggling to keep his tone even. Beneath you, you could feel his hips rocking almost imperceptibly. He didn't need to tell you twice; you could already tell you'd soaked through your underwear as you wrestled your hand down into your pants, pushing the wet gusset aside to rub tight circles around your swollen bud, moaning around his cock at the feeling.

The sound seemed to really turn him on, one of his hands suddenly moving to fist into your hair, the slight pain at the roots making you throb. His other hand came to cup your jaw again, holding you in place as he fully fucked his hips up into your waiting mouth, cussing under his breath as you continued to push yourself closer to orgasm. He kept you like that for a few long minutes, your neck cramping slightly by the time his thumb reached down, wiping away some drool that was dribbling down your chin. Bleary eyed, you looked up at him pleadingly. His answer was a wicked chuckle, his grin less of a smile and more a predator bearing his teeth.

"Blowin' a ghoul turn you on that much, cutie? What would the other vaulties think?" he tutted, shaking his head. "I think it's time you get on my cock."

Blushing hard at his little taunt, you could feel his burning gaze as you pulled yourself back up into a sitting position, tugging your boots off and setting them aside before shimmying the suit the rest of the way off, along with your underwear. A shiver broke down your spine as a small breeze hit you, your fire pretty much nothing but glowing embers now. However, when you pulled yourself back onto his lap, sighing as you ground your wet slit against his erection, you found that he was pleasantly warm feeling, bringing your hands up to his chest so you could lean over just enough to reach between you and position his cock at your entrance.

Too afraid of injuring yourself to attempt to take him all in one move, you instead opted to sink down onto the head, wriggling your hips before pulling them back up, then sinking down again, gently bouncing yourself down onto him. The man beneath you was tense, his hands kneading at your breasts as he huffed and hissed his way inside you. By the time you'd worked yourself most of the way down onto him, his hands moved to your hips, gripping them deliciously tight as you bobbed up and down on his length. For as cocky as he'd been before, he was pretty clearly struggling to keep his cool now.

One of your hands moved up from his chest, leaving you unsteadily balancing on one hand as the other pinched your nipple the same way he had before, making you cry out like a wounded animal. He must've liked that, as well, as his hands immediately yanked you the rest of the way down onto him, your ass resting flush against his hips. You repeated the sound again, higher, more strangled as he sat so deep inside you, the fat tip of him strumming away at something amazing right behind your belly button. It was too dark to make out much of anything, but you could feel the way his body twitched and bucked beneath you, strung tight as a bow.

The Ghoul's hands were digging deep into the fat of your hips, so hard you knew you'd bruise, restricting your movement, forcing you to swivel and grind your hips against him, the angle putting delicious friction on your poor aching clit and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to clench around him rhythmically, and his hand quickly appeared on your clit in the dark, rubbing surprisingly deft stripes up and down the puffy flesh until you were suddenly gasping for air, trembling hard against his chest as he fucked up into your heat roughly, sloppily, the hand that wasn't on your clit slapping you hard on the ass. Suddenly, he let out a long, low groan, and you could feel the hot throbbing of him pumping his cum inside you, his hips stuttering as you let yourself slump halfway against him. There was a sudden metallic taste in your mouth. For several long moments, there were no sounds but your co-mingled harsh breaths and sound of the wind swirling the sand across the foothills.

After you'd finally caught your breath, you made a move to extract yourself from him. He promptly stopped you, flipping you onto your back, the smell of the duster's rich leather curling in around you as he kept grinding his hips into your overstimulated cunt. It drew an embarrassing squeal from you, hands flying to his chest once more before being rather playfully batted away.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. Nice as that was, your buddy owed me quite a bit of money. I think you'll be paying me back in installments." he growled in your ear, one hand moving around to give your ass a firm squeeze as you gave another clench around him. Your mind, foggy with sex, wandered to the Radaway still stashed in your bag.

It was going to be a long night.

[mandy-asimp]

Redecorating Your Heart

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Fluff mostly

Summary: you begin to make changes to Melissa's home, but one year you have a different change in mind

The first time it wasn't as obvious. It was a slight change. You and Melissa had been dating two years prior before she really asked you to just move in. After all, you were never at your apartment.

The first thing you had to change was her couch situation. You understood it and told her multiple times if you moved in, it would be coming off within your first week. She would laugh it off like you were joking, she really believed you were.

But when you moved in, you had a plan. You slowly unfolded parts, knowing that by Friday she'd be so swamped she wouldn't even notice it. And you were right. By Friday she didn't. It took Barbra coming over Monday to realize it.

"Melissa Ann, have you finally come to your senses about your couch?" The older woman beamed as she sat down, her hands running over the soft fabric. "I must say I'm impressed!"

And that's when Melissa looked at you. You were in the kitchen pouring the two wine glasses and grabbing yourself a drink with whiskey.

You had this smile on your face. One she couldn't be mad at, so she sighed in defeat against you. "It was y/n's idea. She has been trying to get it off for awhile now.

That's when you came over glasses in hand and a big, wide smile on. "I won't try and alter anything else...." you trailed off. Both woman gave you a disbelieving look and you could only shrug and hand over their drinks.

You made yourself comfortable next to Melissa as the two talked about anything they needed to. And you would listen, you would give your opinion if asked, or you would sit there and just really listen. Letting your girlfriend's voice carry you off into sleep.

That night though, you stayed up and traced patterns on her thighs as they talked. Following your own finger, you didn't pay much attention to the world around you.

So lost in thought about what she might say to you once Barb leaves. Would she be really mad, or would she let this one go? What if she makes you put it back on yourself? What if she enjoys it off?

There were too many questions that you thought of, and both woman could see it.

"Is she listening?" Barb asked Melissa. Trying not to change her tone to bring you back. Melissa glance to you, and easily shook her head. "You really gonna let her keep the wrapping off?"

Melissa sighed, "honestly? Yeah...if it makes her happy I'm willing to make such a small altering to the house. It is nice fabric, so I'm not really mad. The smile she had when you pointed it out was worth it." She explained simply. It was the truth. If this made you happy, then she saw no harm.

"Melissa Schemmenti, if I didn't know any better I would say you're in love." Barb teased before finishing her glass.

The red head shook her head and finished hers as well. Your drink had been nothing but ice for awhile now. Melissa assumed that's why you were so quiet, you made your drink just a bit to strong.

But once you got up to clean up their glasses, you seemed so fine. Like there wasn't a drop of alcohol in your system. Meanwhile she walked Barbra out.

"She's a sweet one, Melissa. She's good for you and you know it." The friend gave a reassuring hug before walking out to her car.

Once Barb pulled off, Melissa found her way back to you. Wrapping her arms around your waist as you poured her another glass and made yourself another drink.

"Didn't drink too much in that first one?" She teased you quietly, squeezing you before pulling away.

You turned slowly and handed over the glass, "you out of everyone should know I know how to hold my liquor." You bite back with a playful smile. "Mm plus, you and Barb were talking about your field trip that's at the end of the year. What am I to do in a house all alone for a night?" You feigned you boredom.

~

You did know what you were doing that night. You had six months to plan it. After the couch, you had to make her believe you truly weren't going to change anything else....but her bathrooms....

They weren't horrible, but you saw a vision. From the strange orange to a modern grey and marble. And originally it was just going to be the downstairs, but then she had mentioned it just once.

"One day, when I finally have time, I'm going to fix that upstairs bathroom. It's just not in anymore." Her words that you took and ran a mile with it. That's how you got to here.

With the help of your neighbors, who you had met moving in, you had a place to store all the new cabinets.

"And you're sure you'll be ok tonight?" Melissa had her bags by the door as you handed her her purse. "I seriously can have Barb watch my class."

You shook your head and laughed. "Mel, you have been talking about this since school basically started. I will be ok. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, ok?"

"You can call me if you need anything, I know a guy for almost everything." She reminded you. Staring at you with adoration before reaching out to cup you cheek. "I...." she began and your heart skipped a beat instantly.

You knew she struggled with saying the big word. After her last, she explained how she is still healing but is ready to get out there again.

A understanding smile crept onto your lips. "I know," you whispered nodding slightly. "Go! Have fun sleeping over in a museum." You pushed her hand a way carefully. Leaning in to kiss her once on the lips, and a bunch all over.

She laughed at your antics. "Alrighty, I'll get out of your house. But seriously hun, if you need anything don't be afraid to call."

You bowed and helped her load the car. Giving her one last kiss before she pulled out. You watched her till she turned the corner, and your sweet smile turned devilish in seconds flat.

You bolted back in and wasted no time setting up your music and getting started.

To start, you wanted to get out all the old furniture and get it to the garage. Opening it so you had a nice breeze flowing through the entire house (obviously turning off the air to not rack up the bill).

By eleven, you had most of the street helping you out. The guys building outside as everyone else worked inside. Painting or moving heavier pieces.

It was very neighbor like, and you couldn't help but feel more welcomed than ever within their community.

Then by two, you had several pizza's delivered and sent someone to get drinks. Everyone sitting around in the backyard, enjoying the moment.

"So, what made you decide to do both bathrooms?" Ned, he lived three houses to the right, asked.

His wife, Stephany coming out and sitting next to you. "And why haven't we ever been in your house? It's beautiful."

You shrugged a bit. "Well technically, it's Melissa's house. I moved in with her six months ago. But she complained about the bathrooms just once and I had already planned to redo them. I hated the orange. And she probably had a guy to do this, but I had a vision that I think she'll like. And it looks so much cleaner."

They all agreed with it, especially after they saw your sketches from several angles for each bathroom.

"And you didn't ask her to do this, did you? Just like with the plastic in the couch?" Beth smirked as she put her slice. She was the first one you really met and talked to about your future plans for the house.

You shook your head and everyone laughed. "In my world, it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission. She was never going to take that plastic off and I couldn't stand it either. And I know she can't stay mad at me forever," you stated. A part of you knew that was mostly true, she's never gone over a week not talking to you.

"Well, your plans are very nice and with the speed we're all moving at, once the paint dries we'll be down before nine. And when does she get home?" Hunter questioned, his leg fidgeting under the warm sun. "Seeing as it's a surprise?"

"She's home tomorrow afternoon. The school is doing an overnight field trip so it was perfectly planned out. It's also why I could give everyone a set date to take off. Which I thank you all for helping me with this project. I truly couldn't have gotten even an eight of this all done on my own." Everyone raised their glass and talked a little more.

Eventually, by nine, everything was finished. The light fixtures were switched out, water was running smoothly through all faucets, and you were pleased.

Now it was just you laying on the floor after a long day of work. You had just sent out another thank you to everyone who helped. That's when your phone began to ring. Melissa's contact popping up.

"Well look who isn't dead," she spoke so quietly. You assumed all the kids were asleep and it was just her awake in another room. Somewhere where she could keep her eyes on her little eagles. "I haven't heard from you all day..."

"I've been a very busy bee today. But you have my full, undivided attention. How was your field trip?" You hummed your interest.

And you listened to every word she said to you. Never moving from your spot or focusing on anything else. It was just time to talk to your girlfriend.

Although, it was two different girlfriends once she got home. You were upstairs in the shower, enjoying the feeling of the new shower head. It was you in your thoughts until you felt hands sneak around your waist.

You jumped, and screamed, but laughed it off once you spun to see your beauty. "Mel!" You beamed so wide. "You have got to feel this new shower head!" You made quick work to put her back under the water. Watching her face contort, then relaxing.

"And I see you've redone the bathrooms?" She moved her head to the side, letting the water massage her neck.

You couldn't help yourself when you placed kisses over her exposed skin. "Do you like it?" You asked in between. Your touch being featherlight as you ran your hands over her body.

She hummed with a knowing smile, "you keep redoing my house without asking...." she tried to sound mad.

"But aren't I good at it?" You had a lewd undertone. "Admit it Mel..."

You could almost hear her mental fight to keep her ground, but that undertone had her ready to cave. She had to say though...you knew how to remodel a room. "Fine..." she felt your smile grow on her and she swore to never forget that feeling.

~

You lived with her for a year now, been dating for three. Today you had shown up to Abbott and it was almost summer again. And the rumors were that this was supposed to be the hottest summer on record.

It already was, and you had spent it very wisely. You had done a little summer shopping and tanning before the real summer.

"Hello sunshine!" You skipped into the teachers lounge. Catching everyone by surprise, but Melissa and Barb smiled at you and the lunch you brought them. "Here is your lunch! The weather is beautiful outside!" You took the seat next to Melissa, placing a kiss to her cheek.

"Now what did you do? What new alter did you make to our house?" Melissa laughed, really joking but you didn't laugh or fake being hurt. "Oh my, seriously now what? What am I going to come home and find?"

You looked to Barb for a second, hoping she would give any sign on Melissa's mood, then back to her. "Your backyard....was very bland. Empty. There was so much space and it's the hottest summer. You've been busy all week finishing up school and I figured come summer you would love to relax. And we don't have any trips planned, and it'd be a great way to know your neighbors-,"

"The same neighbors you let in to redo the bathrooms?" She quirked an eye brow at you.

"Yes those ones! They've been dying to meet you ever since the bathrooms." You strayed from the main point. "But! Back to my new thing that I have to tell you before you see since it was a bit more major."

"Did you redo the kitchen?!" She gasped, worried for her cookings future. Feeling relieved when your head shook.

"Although that wouldn't be bad! It could use a new coloring...the whole downstairs could use a makeover..." once again you side tracked, going quiet as your vision started planning itself.

Melissa knew that look now, she'd be a fool to miss it three times now. "You leave the downstairs alone, ya' hear? Now what is this new addition?"

You beamed at the mention and leaned in close to her ear. The room assumed it was something so bad as Melissa put her head in her hands but you had a wide, toothy grin still.

"It'll be fun! We can sit by the side and get some sun. Itll give us a reason to have people over more as well, you'll have more mouths to feed. Which means you'll get to cook more." You began to list out the pros.

Melissa rolled her head to look at Barb, who just laughed at her friends reaction. "And what was the alter that has been made?" Barb looked to you, curious to know herself.

"She got a pool," Melissa huffed. "How did you even get it approved? Let alone the money?" She didn't know how to feel about this anymore.

"Well, I talked to the Stephany about who I should talk to and she said to find someone in the committee hall who would know about all that. Once that was sorted it out it was a matter of numbers. And while you were busy being an amazing teacher, I published another book. The first week of selling I managed to afford it." The smile that never left your face as you talked about your accomplishment made her feel warm.

She couldn't be mad. She knew she couldn't be. Just looking at you and she couldn't. She knew it was dangerous, but you also never did anything to make her have to be.

"Do you have any pictures? How'd you even hide that much construction?" She sighed, sitting up and folding her arms.

Barb looked taken aback by how calm the woman was. She knew how much Melissa hated people changing her space, but here you are. Making home renovations without a care in the world. And how the red head watched you with such intent as you showed it off. It was beautiful to say the least. You were what her friend needed more than anything.

"It'll be an amazing summer!" You got giddy at the thought of the next three months. "And, so you really can't be mad, I also added a little kitchen area. So you can cook outside and I can watch you while enjoying the sun. We'll be the talk of the neighbor hood."

Melissa laughed and shook her head. "I guess you weighed your pros over your cons heavily, haven't you?" You nodded proudly. "Well then I guess we have to put it to use soon. We'll have a book premier party for you. Since you live in secret from me." She teased.

"Oh Melli, you know I could never live in secret from you. I only work in secret, it's when I do my best work." She kissed her cheek before standing up. "I have to go though, I have shopping to do."

Barb and Melissa bid you goodbyes, watching you skip out into the soon-to-be summer day. "You're in love," Barb laughed with so much joy.

"I'm in love," Melissa confessed. "A pool?"

"Melissa let someone get a pool?" Ava came in, a knowing look on her face. "Gonna be a hot summer. She's gonna be in a bikini most of the time." Ave painted the picture, getting a look from Melissa. "I'm just saying. You're gonna definetly have a fun summer." She pointed with a head bob. "Does that mean you'll be havin' pool parties with your famous cooking?"

That caught everyone's attention a bit more. "If she plans one and lets me invite anyone, then I'll consider." She put out, "but that doesn't mean a yes."

Ava stood with a shinning smile, "that's all I need to hear!" She left the lounge satisfied.

Meanwhile everyone else took the chance to make small jabs at Melissa for actually being a softy. But it was worth it once she came home.

You laid in the back on a big heart floaty in a casual white two piece. You were spread out and enjoying the sun that was shining brightly.

Melissa thought you looked so peaceful. And she hated to admit it again, the backyard looked nice with the addition.

She figured, it's been a long day, joining you couldn't hurt. So she, without alarming you she was home, went to change into a swimsuit as well. Realizing this would be the first time you see her in one. It made her nerves shake a bit, but you've seen her naked...a swimsuit isn't any different, right?

She carefully got in, but before she could scare you, you spoke. "Took you long enough to change." You rolled onto your stomach and opened your eyes. Your lips softly curling up. "The next alter I make I'll let you in on it, promise." You hummed.

Melissa shook her head as she rested on the side of your floaty. "Don't. I like when you talk about them. You always have a different happiness radiating off of you. You take pride in your work. It's one of the things I love about you." She spoke so smoothly.

The words didn't click at first for you, truly you didn't think them twice till she said 'love'. "Really? You don't hate that I'm slowly taking over your house and altering it?"

Melissa chuckled, "of course not, hun. If I did I would've expressed my anger for it. But because I love you I'm willing to accept these changes. Plus you make them look nice, so I can't complain." She shrugged, but laughed when you started kissing all over her face.

"Oh! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!" You repeated with pure joy as you couldn't stop laughing and kissing her face. "You don't know how pleased I am to hear those words!"

Melissa laughed at your antics again, "if I knew you would react like this I would've realized sooner."

"Oh God, Melissa! I've been in love with you since the first date, you were just so wonderful the first night that I knew I wanted to do right. I want to be with you forever, and I will die on that hill." You confided. Knowing you could go on explaining how much you loved her.

This time, she leaned to you. Kissing you passionately as she could. "It's a good hill to die on," she cockily mumbled. To which you pushed her off your floaty. "But are there any more surprises you have for me?"

You pretended to think, "we're going to Italy the day you get off for a week and a half. As our first vacation together." You played it down, getting pushed off your floaty now. "I thought it would've been good!"

~

It had been another year. You and Melissa had just celebrated three years, and she joked you would find something in the home to change now that it's been awhile.

She was right, which she wasn't surprised about, but was shocked with how big it was. She had come home from work to cars all down the street and the front door opened.

When she walked in, she was shocked to see her cousin that lived close by in the living room. It was an unexpected sight but she came back to reality when he hugged her.

"Is it really that much of a shock I'm here?" He joked, especially with how hesitant Melissa was to hug back.

"Where's...what?" She looked all around. Vinny finding her reaction hilarious.

That's when you came and hugged her from behind, the force you had pushing you both forward. "You're home!" You cheered. "You can't leave me for a week ever again!"

"You were allowed to come with!" She laughed. "But what is all this? Why is my cousin here?"

You looked behind her at Vinny, acting confused. "Your cousin is here?! I finally get to meet another of the Schemmenti's!" You went and hugged him like you w never met. Turning back to Melissa with a smile after, "I have a surprise for you."

"Of course you do," she shook her head with a sigh. "What is it this time?"

"The upstairs and basement." You came right out with it. Her mouth opened to say something, "before you say anything. Look first. Start with upstairs and then go down."

And you stood still as she did go upstairs. When she came down she had an unreadable look but was out of her work clothes. She walked down, this time you followed.

The basement you designed specifically for her. It was dim lit with a fancy poker table with chairs surrounding it. Over was a mini bar with a wine storage all across the wall. It was a nice wood flooring. A small lounge section on the other side.

Melissa, flicked the lights on and nearly had a heart attack. Her family was all in the basement with smiles. She turned to you, tears brimming her eyes as she saw relatives she hadn't seen in ages.

"What is all this?" She whispered, so stunned that you could pull this off. You weren't even introduced to her family yet.

You shrugged, "you worked extremely hard this year with two grades. I figured that after a long year of late nights and early mornings, you could use something good. Soo, I did a little sleuthing and found Vinny, who lived in the city. He helped me, after having to really prove that I was your girlfriend, get the rest of your family in. That's why I hadn't made any alters to the house. I wanted to go big and give you a surprise."

She hugged you tightly, "you're beyond amazing hun." She cried before going to greet everyone.

You watched from afar, not wanting to intervene into her moment. You were about to slip away, until Vinny appeared behind you. "Nah, you're all apart of this family. No matter what happens, nobody's ever gone this far for her. You must really love her." He pushed you towards the group.

Your cheeks became warm, "you have no idea." Was all you got out before Melissa grabbed your hand.

She stood next to you while holding your arm, "everyone, I wish I got to do the introduction, but this is Y/n, my girlfriend of three years." She beamed proudly and shoved you into the group. Laughing as you got bombarded with hugs and kisses to your cheek.

Later, everyone was in the kitchen cooking while laughter filled the air. Meanwhile you sat back and let Nana tell her all the stories of Melissa she could think of.

"So, three years is a long time to keep someone like her a secret." Rocco mentioned, glancing up to his cousin. "I mean I get a text from Vinny saying she's redoing the upstairs and downstairs while you're gone, then poof! She's on the couch making Nana laugh. Just saying if I was you, I would've been showing her off easily."

Melissa shook her head at the comment, "yous just mad I have a keeper that you can't get to again." She poked back. A smirk on her lips as she switch to look at you and Nana. "It's been awhile since Nana has ever welcomed anyone like this..."

Vinny came over with the bowl of uncooked noodles. "It's cause she cares for your happiness. Y/n. I wouldn't know anyone who would fly everyone in."

"She paid for everyone?" Melissa furrowed her brows, now focusing on you and Nana.

"Told you she cared." Vinny's voice faded back as Melissa thought deeply. She had no clue what you were talking about, but you looked overjoy at whatever answer you were given.

She whipped her hands off and pulled off her apron. Walking over carefully to not alarm you both but to still hear.

"...I promise." You swore, turning to look at your girlfriend. You wore a goofy smile that couldn't be shaken. "Melli!" You cheered.

"Can I talk to you for a sec hun?" She offered her hand. Pleased when you took it and followed her out back, away from all ears. "You flew everyone out?"

"I needed help." You said as if there wasn't people closer to call. "I don't see what the big deal is."

Melissa squinted her eyes at you. "What are you up to?" She raised the question, which only got her a toothy grin in answer. "Whatever it is, it better not be the kitchen."

"When we're married and you can't escape me I'll do the kitchen." You playfully mentioned. Laughing at how her eyes widened a bit at the mention. You walked inside after placing a caring kiss to her cheek, rejoining her family and helping out.

Melissa stood and watched, her cheeks flushed, and her heart pounding. You wanted to marry her?

~

You had this smile you couldn't wipe as you waltzed into Abbott. You almost glowed with how excited you were to see your girlfriend of four years. And four was your luckiest of numbers, so it had to be this summer.

"Nope. Another year without an alter to the house. So this year has to be bigger than last year and I'm thinking it's the kitchen she's after next." Melissa's voice rang in the room, clearly you were already a topic.

Once you turned the corner, Melissa sighed. "Oh you know you're excited to see me!" You joked as you plopped into her lap, arms naturally around her neck. "I have wonderful news for you!"

She looked to Barb, and she just smiled and sipped her coffee. It was a reaction that was all to familiar. She knew something Melissa didn't.

"Is that your reason for showing up?" Melissa pinched your thigh playfully. Watching your smile drop into a fake frown.

You let out a little sigh, "I'd come here to see your beautiful face any day. With or without amazing news. But you'll like it. When was the last time you went to Italy anyways?" You causally let out, hoping she wouldn't notice it at first.

But Melissa hung on to every word you've said for the past four years. "Italy?" She whispered with furrowed brows. "You're taking me to Italy? Why? How? When?"

"Well! I'm glad you're already along for the ride! Since your last day happens to be today, our plane leaves at seven tonight. I figured you would want to start your summer off right." You explained. An award winning smile for best girlfriend plastered on your face.

Melissa would've argued with you, saying that you can't plan a trip so short notice and give her no time for any proper packing.

"I can see it on your face, most of your basics are already together, I've packed your makeup the way you like, the only thing is clothes. Now if we had it my way...." you smirked down at her. Watching a subtle blush wash her cheeks. "But unfortunately we can't, so we're going shopping once you're done."

She knew there was no out. You already had it all planned and she knew it. "I'm done in an hour..." she whispered.

Melissa stared at you in wonder. Not knowing what she did to deserve you and your gifts. She adored you and it wasn't said enough. But you, you knew how to express it in every way. You would hold her if she had a bad day, cook if she couldn't, kept the house clean, made sure she never had to worry once she came home. You were her everything.

You kissed her softly, but with so much passion. "I'll go grab us food now then," you got up. Lingering around her just a second longer than usual. "I'll see you later, Melli."

"Bye, hun..." she watched you leave until she couldn't. She leaned back and just thought of the trip. She was going to Italy.

Meanwhile you were making the trip to her favorite food joint. Smiling when they had the order down before you even got to the counter.

"So...it's been what four years?" Pete checked you out. He seen you enough times with the red head to remember who you were. "Either of you making an official move?"

You smiled at the thought. "Who knows. If it's in our cards, I'm sure it'll happen. I can dream big though.

."

But you knew the miracle that would work. You knew Melissa better than anyone (except for Barb). Spoiling her while shopping was only the start.

~

"How long are we even staying? Where are we staying? Oh! I can show you all my families favorite places!" She got excited as you led through the mall.

She didn't expect you to stop outside of designer stores though. Her eyes falling to you with large dose of curiosity.

"No..." she caught your smile. Watching in slow motion as your hand opened the door and let her in. "Hun this is too much, we can go to somewhere simpler."

You sighed and walked in past her. "It's my treat. For all that you've done, this is how I can express my love for you. Spoiling you is only a minor expression. So! Melissa Schemmenti, let loose."

And she did. That woman knew how to shop for a new wardrobe. You were simply there for paying and carrying. Giving her the ultimate freedom to look everywhere. Her smile as every time she hit the checkout, it grew a little wider. This was the life she was destined to live and here you were providing it.

After a few hours of running in and out, you came up to the last store. Her favorite shoe store that she can only dream to buy from. "No. This is where I have to stop you. Those shoes are like a thousand dollars. A pair."

"Well it's a good thing you don't really get much of a choice. I'm picking up an order anyways. Take advantage of this moment Melli." You opened the door for her. Sighing when she didn't move. "Melissa. Come on."

"No. I can't let you spend that much on me on shoes." She stood her ground. In her mind you would've sighed and given up trying and you'd leave.

But you shrugged and went in anyways. Letting her watch the entire transaction as they handed you another bag. She was shocked that you actually had a pick up. Becoming even more shocked as they handed you two more. They weren't small bags either, each may e having three pairs.

When you came out, you shook your hair back and started walking towards the car. "I seriously don't see why you didn't come in. I already got you the shoes but you could've gotten more." Melissa mumbled something as they walked. You didn't think twice when you spun around, standing just ever so slightly taller than her. "What?" You had a certain glint.

"I said, you're up to something." She stood her ground. Arms folding and pushing up her boobs a bit.

You stared at her with an undecipherable look now. Then you just resumed walking. Leading the way back to the car.

The silence killed Melissa. It left her with too much time to think of what you could be up to. Even when packing everything up, you stayed silent.

You could hear her wondering thoughts. How she would watch you for a few seconds before continuing.

"You really that suspicious of me, Melli?" You came up to her. "You think there something more to this don't you?"

She huffed and rubbed her face, "it's just...you spent a lot of money and planned an entire trip to Italy without once mentioning it. You usually slip up or hint once at everything you do. And I haven't heard a hint for Italy ever. So what? What is the catch?"

You grabbed her hands, "we have been dating for four years. We haven't gotten away to somewhere ever. And I like the number four so I figured our fourth anniversary should be special for that matter. Italy will be a trip you remember."

Her eyes squinted at you, searching for any dishonesty. "There's more."

You only smiled wider. "Fine! We're meeting your family there. I was gonna have them pick us up as a surprise but it's been secret for so long and now it's here." She spoke quickly.

Her green eyes widen with shock. "Seriously?" There was a nod. Followed quickly by a hug. "I don't know what to say..."

"Just enjoy your time there, that's all I can ask of you." You kissed her sweetly. "Now we finish packing and then we're off!"

~

School had begun again. It was a few weeks in when you made your first appearance. "No, she didn't ever make that alter to the house. I truly think she's looking for another house to decorate." Melissa was talking to Barbra.

You scoffed as you walked in. "Melissa Schemmenti, are you dissing my name in here?" You came in, few envelopes in hand. You took the seat next to the red head and kissed her cheek.

"It's nice to see you, Y/n. How's the house? It's been a year since the last change?" Barb joked, using the conversation from a few seconds prior.

You beamed and shook your head. "I actually have a different alter in mind recently!" And that's when you slid the white envelope over. The sage green wax seal dawning one side, as the other had The Howard's written in cursive.

Both you and Melissa watched as she carefully opened it. Her gasp catching everyone's attention now. She glanced up, eyes wide as she finally noticed the ring.

"But you said..." she was speechless.

Melissa bobbed her head, "that it would only take a miracle for me to get married again. Yes, I did. But if you saw what this one did, you would've been a fool to say no."

"How? What?" The friend was still confused at this news.

You perked up as Melissa sat back, knowing her fiancé was going to tell it better. And for the entire lunch period, everyone listened as you explained the night in such detail.

"And that's how I got the Melissa Schemmenti to say he's to marrying me." You concluded. You found Melissa's eyes. "And there is not a single thing I won't do for her."

You shared a soft kiss with her. Both parting with subtle smiles that meant more than they let on. "But, save the date. March 7th. It's a Saturday. I have to go meet with the planner though, I'll see you at home."

A quick kiss and then you were gone. Melissa left with her confused coworkers.

"So..." Janine began. Looking at the other envelopes in front of Melissa.

She sighed but couldn't lie, she knew who's invites they were and she wouldn't want anyone else. "You are all invited, don't worry." She stood up to hand them all out.

"Melissa Schemmenti, you feel deeply in love." Barbra was rereading the invite. A pleased look that her friend was finally getting someone who loved her the way she loved them.

And you were that person from the very start.

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

........................

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

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Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[5.8k words] [Blood and Injury, Ghoul trafficking]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 7 "The Road"

“She asked you a question.” the tip of his gun bumps against the skull of the poor man in angry sovereignty. “Not nice t’ keep a lady waitin’.”

The man in question is a scrawny fellow with yellowish, vein-ridden eyes and greasy black hair just shy of his shoulders. A sunbaked, chewed-out lab coat adorns his shriveled form, hiding a multitude of self-inflicted scabs and prickles, but you’d caught a glimpse during his scuffle with Cooper. A self-proclaimed doctor who’d used his own flesh and blood in the name of science and study, he looked nothing short of deranged, but he’d survived until the ripe age of sixty-two and that was enough solid ground for you to trust his expertise.

You sat opposite of him, occupying a wide, crummy slab of concrete that had once been the roof of his laboratory. The entire building was waning, descended to a few walls surrounded by a rusting fence, but it offered enough shelter for most wastelanders to deem habitable. That’s why you’d stopped by, having endured your second month of surface exploration during what you’d learned was the middle of summer, you’d built higher tolerance for the hostile environment, but still couldn’t compare to Cooper. You’d needed respite, to catch your breath under a shade while greedily gulping down lukewarm spring water.

The doctor had heard your intrusion upon his sanctuary and had been more than hospitable, shoving grimy bottles full of murky substances of different consistencies in your face to get you to buy something. When he’d announced that he was a representative of the medicinal sphere another idea had popped into your head, one that required more talking and less buying diluted piss in a corked test tube labeled “Acne Remover”.

He could teach you medicine. The basics, at least, ways to patch up a wound using primitive things you had on hand, and you’d read such books before, but none of them touched on radioactivity nor explained what RadAway or stimpaks were.

The ghoul had been surprisingly agreeable, however, before you could discuss a plan, he’d taken to his ways and was already rasping threats while cracking his knuckles. You’d thrown your hands in the air with a displeased eye-roll as their tussle heated the dust off the floor.

It’s always violence with him…

“A stimpak? I can. Of course, I can.” the doc hacks and spits a mixture of blood and saliva to the side, then turns back to you with a wet snort. “It’s easy. Anyone can make a stimpak. Anyone. Who can’t? It’s so easy.”

“Great.” you nod, gripping your pencil with such force it’s shy from snapping. This was not what you’d had in mind by exchanging information – no guns or violence and absolutely no blood. But your fiendish companion had other ideas and beggars weren’t choosers. You lick your thumb and turn your notebook to a fresh page. “Please explain then. Slowly.”

The owlish look you receive has you eyeing Cooper with a lost frown, a plea for guidance because this man was clearly out of it with no intent on returning to normalcy.

He’s the heavy hand to your soft words as always.

“Talk.” he snarls and digs his boot in the doctor’s ribs, kicking him off his knees and onto his side. There’s no discussion, no bargaining, just a built-in cruelty and lack of patience.

“Jeez, you didn’t have to – ” you scrunch back in abhorrence, reaching for your face as if you were the one taking the beating.

“ – My notes.” a gargled sputter comes from the wheezing man. He laughs, rotting teeth proud on display as he knocks on the side of his head with such force you heard it from where you sat. “Head’s not good. Can’t remember anything. Gotta see my notes. It’s in the notes.” his spastic gaze is bouncing between you and the ghoul. “I can get 'em. Right there.” he’s jutting a finger up at his workstation where a gnawed-out leather bag rests. “Gonna get 'em. Tell you how. Okay? Gonna get up, gonna get 'em.”

He’s motioning for peace with palms spread wide as he slowly rises. The pistol follows him with cold-blooded precision as he wobbles to his desk. You turn halfway to watch as the notepad rests on your thigh, then tuck a wild strand of hair behind your ear.

He sifts through his belongings and it’s not much, but he’s sustained himself so far with the scarce scraps he’d managed to find. Meanwhile, your backpack was still brimming two months later because you had the trinkets to trade for food and water. You had a bodyguard for free and the luxury to indulge in hygienic habits most commoners didn’t see even on their deathbeds.

Bearing a soft heart, you wanted to leave him at least a granola bar, a guaranteed meal with no strings attached so the upcoming night wouldn’t leave him convulsing in a corner from hunger. He was skin and bones at best, a walking skeleton with cracking, aged skin, and protuberant wild eyes, the kind that have seen too much.

But you knew better, rather he starve and struggle than you ending up facing the ghoul’s wrath for acting stupid again. There was no room for kindness here, there would be no praises, just you naively reaching out a helping hand and ultimately having it bitten.

God, you hated this mess of a world…

“Here! Here, here.” he exclaims through a scratchy throat and shows you a torn, brown folder stuffed with sheets of paper. He digs his nose into it, stubby, arthritis-ridden fingers roughly handling the pages like a manic man searching for the meaning of life between the words. “It’s here. Has to be. I wrote it, y’know. All by myself.”

A sharp whistle rings in your ears and your head snaps back to Cooper. He nudges his pistol toward the folder and cocks his head with a scowl.

“Take em.”

You’re taken aback. Your face falls and you glance at the madman behind you with a slack jaw – he’s pressed into his workstation, the folder held snugly to his chest and encased in his frail arms. His hair sways as he stiffly shakes his head with disbelief.

“No.” you breathe out, a voiced thought, then repeat with more authority. “No! I can’t take his notes, how will he work without them?” you’re gesturing towards him with pencil in hand and direness to your voice. “Look at him! He can’t even remember his own name. We can’t just – ”

“ – I ain’t sittin’ here all day just cuz you wanna play Broken Telephone with a con bastard.” he’s a harsh mentor, doesn’t bat an eye at the implication or the devastation his order might cause. The rim of his hat dips, painting menacing shadows over his already monstrous features. “Take the damn notes.”

There’s no equal ground for arguing and the doctor stands there, forced to watch as his life is put on an uneven scale. Either shot or left to wither away without his only source of income, he couldn’t even choose, he was left to be toiled between your hands and the ghoul’s.

You’re bubbling with righteousness, but that won’t do. There are many things your companion dislikes and for unexplained reasons, standing up to him while trying to do the right thing is one of them.

“Please.” the plea leaves your lips as a hiss. Your face is wrinkled with exertion as you attempt to stare Cooper down to a more agreeable state.

You’re grasping at straws, fighting not to drown in the reality of your actions being the cause of another person’s death. This was no raider, or cannibal, not a warped beast hunting you for supper. This was a fellow survivor, a struggling soul the wasteland hadn’t been as lenient towards. Beneath the delirium and madness, the jumbled words and soup of senseless thoughts, he was still human.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t.

“Was your idea, Sweetheart.” a derogatory coo, a sentence that rips up your act of chivalry. He’s almost smirking as he puts you down with just his gaze. “Gotta finish what you started. Now take the fuckin’ notes.”

Impatience nips at his command, only amplified when he sees you refuse to move. His weapon lowers and he takes a few strides with a searing grunt and bared fangs. He’s no gentleman; picks you up roughly by the arm and forces you to your feet as disapproval of your disobedience brings forth his crow’s feet. There is no grace when you’re non-consensually pushed toward your victim, no elegance guides your step to ease the mourning of the man you’re about to strip from any chance of long-term survival.

But you’re also meek with your gestures, approaching him delicately once your footing is set in stone, hesitantly until there is only a thin gap separating you.

His leg juts to the side with barely contained need to run and he once again winds up at gunpoint.

“Don’ be fuckin’ stupid now.” the ghoul spits as his chin dips, he’s peeking beneath his hat with eyes that could boil flesh off bone.

Regret drains the strength from your fingers when you pinch the bottom of the folder, left to weakly tug it out of his grip as he begrudgingly relents. Your vision is set low, trained on your feet, scorned by actions you couldn’t back away from. You take his prized possession and look away until not a blip of him poisons your vision, then after swallowing nothingness down a dry gullet you manage to mumble:

“I’m sorry.”

You skitter back to Cooper, each step hastening your pace until you’re in the sanctity of his proximity. You don’t falter to see his nod of approval, instead hiding behind him, the side of your head leaned between his shoulder blades. Pathetic, powerless, and made cruel, your brows twitch, pulling down the skin of your sweaty forehead as you clutch at the folder with a distant mind and quivering bottom lip.

You leap a thousand miles away, condemned to weigh the doctor's odds and spare your sanity the burden of his demise. There were always radroaches scuttling about, he could live off them. They weren’t your cup of tea but they were edible. If he was smart enough he could gather sand and pebbles, make a filter and cleanse his urine to a drinkable consistency. It wasn’t that hard, he could survive if he wanted to. Maybe he could…

Maybe –

The familiar click of a pistol rattles you out of the dreamlike state.

You tense.

“Wait.” your hand shoots out to lay over his wrist, applying a minute amount of pressure to stray the firearm. “We got what we needed, right? You don’t need to…Please?” your voice cracks and your beseeched eyes lift to face his. “Please.”

The doctor hasn’t moved, frozen solid and silent aside from the low, bizarre hums and attempts to cough out the gunk tickling his lungs. He was sick and mad, defenseless against a loaded gun, compliant with your inhumane deeds, hadn’t said a peep of protest. The least you could do was leave him be after ripping away the little dignity he’d had.

Your way is brutal though, leaving a helpless old man to be overcome by a death worse than a bullet to the head. But you weren’t one to make a tough decision in a dire situation, you didn’t have the guts to do what would be considered a mercy. His chances were null and shooting him now would save him a great amount of suffering. You could walk out and wait for the shot to ring out, turn a deaf ear to the shriek of oblivion.

But you weren’t doing what was best for him, you were doing what was least painful for you.

Masking your selfish spinelessness as a courageous act of standing up to your dominant half to spare a soul. This was no heroism, it was torture. You’d seen firsthand how sadistic fate was in this dystopian world you now called home, but what could you do when the sight of him had you near tears?

Cooper lowers his pistol with a disgruntled scoff and you release a shaky breath.

“Whatever you say…” he clasps his weapon back in place and flings both his bandolier and tato sack over his shoulder.

It was suspiciously easy, but you didn’t question his change of heart, instead keeping close to him after shooting the deranged doctor a last apologetic frown.

He’d been with you since you’d left the vault, acting as the spear to your shield, the one to take action while you sat back and prayed for the best. You were still as friendly and ready to lend a helping hand as when you’d met and if it hadn’t been for him you would have been long gone by now. The wasteland was working on remolding your antics, but it was a slow process in your case and until then it spelled hardships and disaster for both of you.

Actions have consequences, bad ones, good ones, all of them. He’s tried and failed to teach you so he decides a harsher lesson is in order, one that will stick. That’s why he ignores the shuffling behind him and keeps a heavy-lidded neutral expression.

Actions have consequences and yours is being swung straight towards your head.

The bits of gravel crunching beneath your boots keep your hearing busy enough to miss the vigorous grunts and noises being regurgitated some feet away from you. It’s inconceivable that the person to whom you showed mercy would do anything to cause you harm. His uncoordinated, rushed steps don’t even register until they’re thumping right behind you.

You’re a second too late to react before the empty glass bottle is shattered against the side of your head.

All you muster out is a choked gasp as the ground beneath you slips and you’re falling. The world spins with sickening speed yet your fall is delayed, like a swaying feather.

You don’t feel. You feel nothing below your neck.

Your stomach churns as everything is flipped upside down. The folder is snatched from the safety of your armpit. You’re numb when you collide with the dusty concrete, feel only a cushioned resistance from an impact that’s supposed to hurt.

The air is knocked out of your chest, you’re suffocating on dust. Cooper’s boots are doubled and swaying in your vision as they move. You squint to try and focus, but can’t manage much except to roll on your back and twitch when a shot is fired. A guttural scream, then silence.

The scarce clouds visible from beyond the hole in the ceiling are swimming. You want to reach out and touch them.

The sky always leaves you speechless.

“Why…? Why couldn’t you just let it go…?”

You sit up slowly, hunching over as your legs cross to keep you steady. The dull pulse blossoms into pain and you press a trembling palm against your head only to find it dampened by scarlet red. What you thought was snot tickling your cupid’s bow turns out to be blood once you wipe it off with your wrist to see.

Your breathing accelerates and you look to the ghoul before you succumb to a full-blown panic attack.

He’s bending down to retrieve the folder from a man now dead before approaching you with leisurely steps and placing it in your lap once he’s knelt in front of you.

You didn’t feel like crying before you were face to face, but now your eyes are brimming.

“Next time, you don’ fuckin’ stop me.” he speaks in a low tone, letting you weep. His image shakes and you try your hardest to focus, wiping at your eyes and blinking rapidly, all in vain. “When I speak, you listen. No talkin' back, no attitude. You wanna live, you do as I say when I say.” he checks you over carelessly, sees no glass stuck to your skin, only cuts, and deduces a potential concussion from your uncoordinated movements. “Hope you learned your fuckin’ lesson.”

Your downfall, your savior, your opposite, your everything.

He’s up and walking, and you’re given no time to tend to your wounds, not even to rip off some gauze and stuff it in your nose. You replace the notebook and pencil with a water bottle, cup a hand under it, and spare some water to then splash over your face and wash away a part of the bloody smears. A sip is forced down after a short struggle because your stomach refuses to welcome anything. With jelly legs, you rise, flail briefly because the act makes the world whirl and your brain feels like it’s pressing against the inside of your skull, a sickening sensation, seething and pulsing.

Your shoulder grinds against the walls to offer support for your off-course balance as you make your way out of the rundown building. There are no thoughts in your head, for once everything is still, a dark, blank canvas swallowing any image before it can even surface. There’s only a dull ache deep within your chest, mourning, partly for you, partly for the doctor.

Cooper is waiting for you outside with a cigarette pinched between his lips and kicking at the cracked soil.

High-pitched screeching deafens you as the sun’s rays nearly blind you on the spot. Your sensitive eyes are filling with more than tears of sadness, you’re snarling instinctively with a hand shielding your vision. It’s almost nauseating and leaves your knees weak.

Was it really always this bright?

The sun has no sympathy, it blasts scorching heat as if it knows exactly where your head is exposed and oozing, it targets you with viciousness because you’re battered and broken. You lift the stained folder, let it rest against your crown and give off enough shade to keep you from fainting.

With a pained expression, you follow after the ghoul once he takes a particularly long drag from his cigarette and turns on his heel.

A trail is left in your wake, blood, tears, sweat, all marking your path as you struggle not to trip over your feet. Each step is heavy and rattles both your teeth and your brain. It’s an alien sensation, not truly pain, it’s closer to pressure and it’s agony when combined with the rest of your unpleasant symptoms.

Your breaths echo in your ears, drowning out your footsteps because you’re heaving for air like a woman drowning. The world still swims albeit less so and sometimes it’s unbearable and you’re forced to cling to Cooper’s arm and squeeze your eyes shut as he guides you. All you want is to lie down somewhere soft and sleep, but there’s no building in sight, no trees, nothing.

You walk an endless road, hours of silent torment.

With enough distance and suffering, the day is finally coming to an end and everything is bathed in deep oranges and blaring pinks. The sunset is behind you, your shadow faces you and is as decrepit and tortured as you, you’re heading east, not that it matters. You can finally open your eyes fully without wincing and that’s one less discomfort to sulk over, but then another takes its place instantaneously.

Your backpack feels heavier than ever, it digs into your armpits and it would have been worse if you hadn’t sewn the ripped strap back in place, but it made no difference now. It weighed on your back, further ruined your posture.

You readjust it multiple times with a handful of irritated grunts.

“Ain’t nobody told you t’ stuff the whole fuckin’ vault in that thing.” finally he speaks after an eternity of wordless wandering. He’s eyeing you judgmentally while mouthing another cigarette. “Said to bring essentials.”

More fuel to the fire, more salt in the wound. He’s a relentless bastard when he wants to be.

You stop to rest your hands on your knees and catch your breath and you’re a pitiful sight, but that doesn’t stop you from glaring death at him. Too far gone, in too much pain and fear from failing to understand how much damage the blow to your head had caused, you’re a hair away from losing it completely.

“Nobody told you to bring that nasty attitude either, but here I am.” you snap back through gritted teeth. “Dealing with both.”

He pauses.

“Wha’d you say?” he’s tossing away the smoke and storming towards you, but you’re not your usual self – you don’t back down or shrink away or try to run. You’re staring him dead in the eyes with a nasty look. “Care t’ repeat, Missy? My hearin’s not what it used t’ be.” he’s taunting you while holding your face with one large hand, squishing your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“You’re an asshole.” you snarl with hatred; his roughness causes your nose to fill with blood again, a fresh batch that follows the edge of your curled back upper lip and dribbles down his glove. You look almost feral, you almost fit in with your environment, but your eyes are still soft despite everything.

“Only reason why you ain’t getting’ a beatin’s cuz you already got a concussion.” he jostles you harshly, always does when you’re stepping out of line, but he’s too late to deal punishments this time.

You’re past his demeaning attitude, you’re fed up with being flung like a ragdoll and tied up and blamed for existing because you attract bad attention and he has to waste bullets. You’re bleeding and bruised and hungry and out of patience for his teachings. It might be the concussion, might be something else, but you’re writhing.

You’ve had enough.

He was no hero. He was a fucking pest.

When he shakes you for the second time and pain stabs up your neck like a knife to the spine you shudder. The sound that leaves you is worse than your visage, a carnal bellow, a menacing reverberation that could rival that of a cornered animal.

You bite him.

You sink your teeth into the plush between his thumb and forefinger with enough force for your jaw to burn. You’re clinging to his wrist and when he forces you back your nails leave angry red lines over his skin, even through his coat. You take a wide stance to retain some balance and glare at him from behind a curtain of wild, sweat-drenched hair. Your nostrils flare wide and you spit out the grime you’d bitten off.

“Well I’ll be…” he sighs while tipping his hand slowly and looks over the blunt teeth marks adorning his glove. They glisten with a thick coat of saliva. A fowl grin cracks his somber features. “If you wanned t’ swap saliva, Darlin’, should’a just said so.”

He glides his tongue over the bitemark, then licks the blood clean off his fingers. He’s tasting you, he’s savoring you and your façade falls in repulsion.

That disgusting smile never leaves his chapped lips.

You’re on the verge of insanity, pushed to the brink from everything that’s happened in the past two months and today spelled your breaking point. You’re at your wit’s end and all he does is laugh at your misfortune without a drop of empathy. How can he enjoy your misery? What kind of sick man finds pleasure in another’s pain?

“What is wrong with you?!” you shriek as your hands ball, the folder you’d forgotten you still held, creases under the pressure. You land a fist against his chest, then another, and, of course, he doesn’t even flinch. “Why are you like this?!”

He holds your arms while stifling his cackles, softens your blows while you fuss, lost in your tantrum and throwing conniving insults his way while somehow avoiding any vulgarities. It would have been a comedic performance if your condition potentially worsening didn’t make him fret. He didn’t need you passing out in the middle of nowhere because you couldn’t control your frustration.

“Who did this to you?”

Who hadn’t? His darling wife had dug a knife in his back, taken his daughter away and left him to rot. He’d known the taste of betrayal and disloyalty before the bombs and now it was a free-for-all massacre. He’d not just lost everything, it had been ripped away from him. Every single person he’d known had either tried to kill him or left him stranded.

“Who hurt you so bad…”

But who were you to ask him such questions? Who were you to sink your claws so deep and stir him awake from his bitter slumber spanning over two centuries? Who were you to question his ways and fight to find better solutions? Who were you to mend wounds you’d not caused?

You were nothing.

You were everything.

“Easy.” he warns, paying no heed to your desperate laments, then releases one of your hands to snake an arm around your waist when your knees give out. “Easy now…Easy…”

You’re bawling into his collarbone, sobbing an ugly song, and staining his vest with heavy tears. Your fists uncurl once you’re done drumming at his chest and your fingers sink into the warmth beneath his coat. He’s a solemn golem, doesn’t react to your advances, he doesn’t see you as a threat.

“Why didn’t you just shoot me in the start…”

His heartbeat never changes, but you hear him swallow a lump. He watches over the top of your head as you succumb to periodic trembles and tire yourself out completely. A dainty and ethereal creature compared to him and even in your rage and unquenchable sorrow, both caused by him, you still cling to him.

You were similar in that regard. He had shown you the same mercy you’d shown to the doctor. Selfish spinelessness, lack of courage, weakness, twisted empathy. He was no hero, but you sure made him feel like one. A part of him was addicted to the goodness you carried and didn’t want to let you go. And he cared little for how fake or real it was, he just needed to have a taste once in a while, get a reminder that softer things yet thrive in the dark crooks of the apocalypse.

“Should’a stayed in Tillburry.” a rasp so low you could have mistaken it for a rustle in the wind.

He’s already locked eyes with you when you finally unfurl your face from his vest and look up. Newfound anger spells doom on your lips. It doesn’t suit you to be angry.

“I didn’t want to stay in Tillburry.” there’s spitfire in your voice as you talk down his feeble statement. A last soft punch to his chest to solidify your words as you continue. “I want to stay with you…”

“Y’ dunno what’d fuck you’re talkin’ about.” he gravels out a tender scold, his eyes dip to your frown, his mouth waters.

He inches closer, earning an inquisitive noise from you, but you don’t back away. You grip onto his coat and for once his heart is heavy as he lowers his head until the rim of his hat is brushing against your forehead. His breath hits you and it’s rich with the smell of cigarettes.

Your inhales are forced, brash and vocal, sucked in through parted lips as you take him in for the first time. Contrary to your beliefs, he had eyelashes, thick and dark and you wonder if he was brunette before he became a ghoul. His eyes were molten gold in the dying sunlight, prettier than yours would ever be, his cheekbones were high, accentuated by the lack of fat in his cheeks.

Once upon a time, he was a handsome man.

He’s pawing at your waist to keep you close, a precaution for the slim chance that your brain kicked back into function and you pulled away like you should. He had no right taking your first kiss, he had no right to anything of yours, but there was nobody present to stop him. A small guilty pleasure, a moment of indulgence, that’s all he wanted and he’d set you free.

You’re sweating, you’re shaking.

Were you really that scared of him?

“Coop – ”

“ – ‘S okay, Pumpkin. ‘S okay…” he coos in a hushed tone, tender and sugary. “I got you…Sweet thing…I’m here.”

A queer affection coming from a man who was anything but, your mind was hazy, you’d faint any second. Your stomach is bursting with fluttering butterflies as you give in to the needy hands kneading your sides.

What was this…

“ ‘M a bad man, I know…I know. Don’t deserve this.” he sees you searching for words, gives you a good squish and you’re so pliant under his fingers it makes him weak. “Is okay…Close those pretty eyes o’ yours.”

He’s so close he can feel the heat radiating off your skin, your nose is brushing against his cheek and his lips are ghosting over yours.

“Helloooo!”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

A caravan approaches, pulled by a pair of well-fed brahmin. A man is vigorously waving a hand your way, bearing a wide smile with mostly missing teeth.

You rush to straighten your dress once you’re abruptly released and pushed away. There’s danger dancing in Cooper’s stance as he mumbles an inaudible slew, his hand is at his holster and his shoulders become ridged. There’s a heat to your cheeks that you hope the sun masks and the medical folder is tucked in front of your chest as a barrier.

Judging by the ghoul’s reaction, this man, whoever he is, is trouble and you’re not mentally prepared to withstand another bloodbath.

He flings the reins, urging the brahmin to pick up the pace and the distance between your parties grows too short too quickly. You can only pray for a peaceful exchange. His cargo is large, rectangular and covered by a dark sheet bolted to the carriage on either side.

Once he’s close enough a distressful symphony reaches your ears and you step closer to Cooper out of habit. There’s the rattling of metal, a cacophony of pained moans and haggard groans, animalistic noises from a beast you’d yet to encounter.

Was he from a circus? What kind of animal made such sounds?

“Shut the hell up back there!” he slams his fist against the cargo, you guess it’s a cage of some sort, and the mystery animals fall silent. Then he stills the brahmin and flashes you a polite smile. “Evening, Miss.”

“Hello, Sir.” you nod and the firm hand on your hip tells you to be very careful with your next words.

He doesn’t even address Cooper despite him standing in front of you, just gives him a good full-body scan and averts his attention back to you. It’s strange, for once you’re not in his shadow, your gut warns of a dirty truth hidden behind that dark curtain, one which you didn’t want to delve into.

“Sorry to bother you this late an hour.” he plants an elbow against the backrest of his seat and turns to face you properly. “I was just wondering if you were selling.”

The wind picks up your hair, for a moment the world is still.

“Selling?” you cup a hand over your eyes to block out the dying red sun falling behind the distant horizon. Your brows lock in confusion because he certainly didn’t look like a merchant. “Selling what?”

“The ghoul.” he answers as if it’s the most obvious thing, then when you don’t answer immediately he decides to add a bit more honey to the mix. “Would pay good caps for that one.”

“The…WHAT?!”

Your blood runs cold. The moans you’d previously heard turn hauntingly grim and you try to look everywhere but the covered cage. The grip on your hip is bruising in strength; the only way to ease Cooper before he snaps is to step on his boot.

The bent stop sign a few feet down the road looks weak enough. You wonder if you can tear it out and bludgeon the man to death, then shake your head. He’s not a man, can’t be if your suspicions are true.

Because who would do such a thing…

“Stop.”

 It was impossible to entertain such thoughts. There exist so many words to describe the evil and grotesque and none of them come close to encompass such inhumane deeds.

“Sorry, Sir, not selling this one.” you muster out, shake off your horror and mask your malice with an awkward smile. You pat the ghoul’s shoulder like he’s a pet. “He’s a good mule, can’t imagine traveling without em.”

The words nearly make you gag while the man howls a throaty laugh.

“Sure looks like it. Real shame.” he sits back and grips the reins once more with a serene look as he stares into the sunset.

He doesn’t deserve to see such a sight, he doesn’t deserve to be so relaxed, he doesn’t deserve to live –

“ – Weeellp! If you change your mind, my establishment’s stationed in Pitfalls Valley. Big building, can’t miss it.” he gives you a playful wink and a click of his tongue before tugging at the reins “Have a good evening, Miss.”

The disturbance awakens the cage once more and the voices come back to life, despicable and anguished.

You can’t even process what had happened before you’re made to move.

“We gotta go.”

The gentle tug on your dress leads you away as you stare back unblinking. There’s a myriad of bony hands reaching from beneath the curtain, scraping at the bottom of the caravan, pulling at the metal bars, some of them are tiny.

Hate in its most primal state is an emotion you had never felt, not until today. You had never dreamed of killing someone until today. For once, you’re ready to watch a shootout, but it’s also one of those rare moments where Cooper prefers to walk away. You’re looking at him with pleading eyes and all he can offer is a bitter:

“It ain’t our problem.”

You’re no Mary Sue, you can’t charge into a battle and win, armed or not. You can’t be the hero those locked up ghouls need. You can’t do shit because this isn’t a fairytale. It’s life – cruel and cold, real and so unbelievably merciless, sick and twisted. There is no happy ending for anyone, there are no miracles.

All you can do is move along, stuff the memories in the depths of your subconscious and get over it because at least you’re still alive and free. It’s either wallow in despair or swallow it and survive. There is no joy, there is no love, no compassion, no humanity. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten.

You link your fingers with Cooper’s and squeeze.

“What kind of fucked up piece of shit sells ghouls…”

That cracks a smile from him. He closes his fingers over your hand until it disappears behind an aegis of leather.

“Well look at you startin’ t’ swear proper.”

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[alotofpockets]

Mother's Day surprise | Caitlin Foord x Reader

Where you use Mother's Day as a disguise for a different kind of surprise

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.3k

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“Hey baby,” You greet your girlfriend in the bathroom, while hugging her from behind. She was getting ready for an Arsenal morning training session. After placing a few soft kisses onto her shoulder you continue your sentence, “I’m off to run some errands, do you need something from the store?” 

Caitlin turns around in your hold,  “Could you get some more of those protein bars you got last time?” You smile and nod, feeling accomplished on finding something new that your girlfriend loves. She pecks your lips and puts her arms around your shoulders, bringing you in for a hug. 

“Oh, and don’t forget our Mother’s Day facetime call with my mom at two!” She says as you step out into the hallway. “I’ll be there. I should be back home before you are.”

You make a quick stop at the grocery store to get Caitlin the protein bars she asked for, before you drive to the airport. Technically you were running errands, so you didn’t lie, it’s just that the errand was to pick up her mom, sister, and her sister’s fiancée from the airport. 

Jamie notices you first, and runs up to hug you. “It’s been too long!” Renae is close behind and joins in on the hug. Lastly Simone arrives by your side, she goes in for a big hug as well. “Thank you so much for flying us out here, it really means the world, darling.” 

When everyone’s baggage is in your trunk and the Foord family is situated in your car, you make the drive back to your home. “So, how is my future daughter in law doing?” Simone asks you from the passenger seat. “Simone, you know she has to say yes first, right?” You chuckle. “I do, but Cait would be a fool to say no.” 

The rest of the drive you catch up with your girlfriend’s family. Back at your home they all plop down on the couch, exhausted from the long flight. You get everyone something to drink, but they are way more interested to see the ring you had picked out. Jamie had helped you pick it out, but she thought it was even more beautiful in person. 

When you hear Caitlin’s car pull up, you quickly hide the box, and walk towards the door. “Hi love, I missed you.” She says and immediately falls into your arms. “Hi baby, I missed you too.” You peck her lips and close the door behind her. “Can you close your eyes? I have a surprise for you.” 

She closes her eyes and lets you guide her to the living room. “What is it? Did you find me another flavour of those delicious bars?” She was really too pure for this world, the little things meant so much to Caitlin. “I think you’ll like this better than a protein bar, baby. Open your eyes and see for yourself.” 

Caitlin opens her eyes, and her mouth falls open in shock at the surprise in front of her. “Wait, what? What are you guys doing here?” She stares at the trio in front of her, overcome by emotions she runs into her mom’s arms with teary eyes. 

“Y/n flew us out here for Mother’s Day.” After hugging both Jamie and Renae as well, Caitlin turns to you. “Thank you so much, you are the best. This is so amazing.”

You hang out with her family in the living room for a bit longer while Caitlin takes a quick shower, before you’d all head over to a nearby restaurant for lunch. 

After lunch you suggest going for a stroll around town, having the travelling trio as an excuse to hide behind. With them having sat in a plane for so long, and then making them sit in a restaurant, giving them the opportunity to stretch their legs seemed logical. 

Caitlin had no idea you were leading everyone towards the spot you were planning to propose to her. The spot you had gone to every couple of days for the past few months. The spot you had arranged for a professional photographer to meet you at. The sport where you would ask one of the most important questions of your life. 

You grew more nervous by the minute, as you walked up the path you had walked so many times recently. Caitlin was too busy into conversation to notice your nerves, but Jamie noticed and walked in step with you. Jamie knew exactly how you felt, having experienced the same nerves that you were feeling when she proposed to Renae. She puts her arm around your shoulder and gives you a quick squeeze, “You’ve got this.” She whispered into your ear.

One more corner and there would be a lookout spot over the pond you were walking past. You relaxed a bit, when you saw that there were no people at the look out spot currently. You apparently knew your girlfriend better than you thought you did, ‘cause when Caitlin’s eyes fell on the lookout she instantly dropped the conversation with her mom and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards it. “This is such a pretty spot! Jamie, can you please take our picture?” Instead of taking a picture, Jamie started filming, aware of the photographer hidden away. 

“You should do one where you’re looking out over the pond, it would be so cute.” Renae suggested, winking your way when Caitlin had turned around. This was it, this was the moment. You look out over the pond together, but after a few seconds you turn towards Caitlin, and get down on one knee. The box taken out of your pocket seconds ago, now open towards her, waiting for her to notice. 

Your heart was beating a million miles an hour, as Caitlin turned your way. The moment she realises what is happening, she gets teary eyes. “Caitlin Jade Foord, you are an incredible person, and you have been my rock over the years. I love you so much, and I cannot see my future without you in it. Will you make me the happiest girl in the world and marry me?” 

Cailtin started nodding her head midway through your sentence and once you finished your question she voiced the answer that went along with her head movements. “Yes! A thousand times yes!” 

After putting the ring on her finger, she pulls you up and brings you in for a hug. You were living in your own world, not even having noticed Jamie stepping to the side, and the cameraman moving forward. Together they captured every moment. From the proposal itself, to breaking apart from the hug, to sharing a kiss, to Caitlin properly looking at the ring for the first time. 

She turns around to her family with a big smile on her face. “Wait, they knew. You flew them in for this, didn’t you?” You nod, “I mean I would’ve flown them in just for Mother’s Day too, but I know how much you love your family, and I didn’t want them to miss this.” Caitlin hugs you again, before pulling you towards them.

You share some hugs with them while they congratulate the both of you, before you take a few more engagement pictures showing off the ring.

It’s crazy to think that Caitlin was your fiancée now. You couldn’t stop looking at the ring for the rest of the walk back home. The rest of the day was filled with joy and happiness, together with your fiancée and her family. 

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caitlinfoord and y/n_y/l/n posted

caitlinfoord: I still can't believe this is real. So ready to marry you, and spend the rest of our lives together💍❤️

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[digital-domain]

Purpose

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.4k

You can have you soul back, if you wish. But really…why would you even want something like that?

Tags/warnings: yandere, manipulation, power imbalance, angsty as hell, Alastor owns reader’s soul, reference to Alastor destroying other souls, shadows being far too tangible for comfort

A/N: This was supposed to be a short, simple little thing in my notes app. It did not stay that way for long. I swear I’ll write for someone else after this one (this might be a lie, haven’t decided yet)

You can’t believe that you asked. It was a sort of trance that brought you here, that forced your steps down the hallway, that raised your fist to his bedroom door - and it was your entire fist that knocked, not merely the knuckles of your hand. Like you were threatening to break the wood from its hinges if he didn’t answer. But he wasn’t angry when he let you inside. Only bemused. And even now that you’ve done it, now that you’ve somehow managed to get out the words that have been churning in your mind for months…his demeanor has barely shifted at all. Although of course, it could be an act. It’s still hard for you to tell.

“Is that truly what you desire, my dear?” Alastor’s smile, which you expected to fade somewhat, or at least twitch at the corners in a telltale sign of annoyance, is just as broad as it’s ever been. He towers over you, his hands folded behind his back. “Think carefully, now. It’s already rare for me to allow someone to escape - unheard of, in fact. But taking someone back would be even less likely, so if there’s any chance at all ”-

“I’m sure.” You set your jaw, and refuse to look down, even as the glow in his eyes becomes almost too bright to bear. Even as something stirs in the swamp behind him, threatening to draw your gaze away. “I want my soul. I’ll give you anything to have it back. I’ll”-

“No need to elaborate, darling.” He sounds calm, and just as surprising, he doesn’t sound like he’s lying. “I assure you, I have no interest in any offer you might have had planned. If you want your soul, you can have it.” 

You freeze, your mouth still ajar. It takes you a moment before you can speak again. “Really?”

“Really.” His head tilts slowly as you continue to process his words. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes.” You’re deeply confused, in fact. You were expecting to have to haggle, if not to beg. You were certainly expecting him to be upset. It shouldn’t - it can’t - be this easy. 

“I give you my word. If you wish to leave, I’ll let you.” He pauses. “However. ”

This is a trick. It has to be. Your eyes dart around the room, as if a map to his true intentions might be lying somewhere nearby.

“It would be irresponsible of me not to help you consider your options. I don’t want you to do anything you might regret. So…tell me.” He sighs, and simply stares for a moment before brushing the tips of two fingers up the line of your jaw, from your ear to just below your mouth. “ If you were to go…” He taps the pads of his fingers gently against your cheek, and lets his hand fall to his side. “What, exactly, would you have to gain from such a thing?”

You blink, still reeling from his feather-light touch. This is not a question you expected to answer, and you stay quiet for a moment too long.

He leans over you, and lowers his face to your ear, as if he’s about to tell you a secret. “I’ll tell you what I think. I don’t think you’ll like it very much…but then again, people never enjoy hearing the truth.” There’s a buzz of static, he disappears and reappears behind you, and you’re left too disoriented to respond. “I think you’d be quite miserable, if you went through with this impulsive little idea of yours.” 

It wasn’t impulsive. Saying it out loud was, without a doubt. But the idea itself has been there for a very long time. 

“Would you like to know why I think that?” 

“No.” You’re not sure, really, whether you’re responding to his words, or to the hand that has landed on your waist. “You’re wrong.” His grip tightens, tugging slightly on the fabric of your shirt, but there it is again - that odd, detached state of mind that you fall into when you need to do something, and quickly, before you think about it and lose your resolve. “I’ll be miserable if I stay. I’ve already been miserable for a long fucking time.” You uncurl the fist you didn’t realize you had clenched, bring your hand to his wrist, and tug it sharply away from your waist. You barely even register your surprise when he lets this happen. 

He reappears in front of you, and waits silently for you to continue. 

“I didn’t think it would be like this.” Your eyes wander to the desk against the wall, to the ledger that you know contains the list of souls under his command. He’s allowed you to witness what happens to the souls - to the people - that displease him, and on more than one occasion, he’s enlisted your help in cleaning up the mess. You always got the impression that he didn’t particularly need your assistance. That it was more about the fun of watching you squirm. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“How interesting.” He leans forward, eyes gleaming. “I must be a better judge of character than you, then. Because you have never once surprised me.” Without warning, he takes your hand, tugs you close enough to put his other hand on the small of your back, and half-drags you to his desk chair, which he kicks around and deposits you into. 

You glare up at him, hands braced tightly against the armrests, but he only pulls his hands behind his back, and sighs.

“Well, my dear. I would have merely asked you to sit down - as one should do for someone who’s about to receive unfortunate news - but it seems that you’re in a rather oppositional mood. So.” He gestures in your direction, and something slithers over your waist, binding you to the back of his chair. 

Before this all began, you would have struggled. Now, you barely glance down. “Fuck you.”

“Shall I bind your tongue as well, darling?” A dark coil, made of the same unnaturally smooth, unfathomably black material as the first, curls up from behind you and begins to inch its way up your neck. “Or perhaps do away with it altogether?”

You press your lips together, and shake your head. 

“Hmm…if you’re sure.” The second coil retreats back into the shadows, and Alastor looks down at you with an expression far too appreciative for your comfort. “I do love a captive audience,” he muses. “But what I said before does still stand. If, at the end of this little talk, you still wish to leave, I’ll happily release you.” He gestures broadly with an open palm, as if presenting you with some fabulous gift, then quickly flips his hand and points at you, his finger perfectly still in midair. “But first things first. I asked you a question some time ago, and you would do well to answer it.” He stands perfectly straight, and once again interlocks his hands behind his back. “Take some time to gather your thoughts, if you must. I’m not going anywhere.”

You bite hard into the inside of your lip, and swallow your bloody saliva down with all the things you’d like to scream at him. Instead, you avert your eyes, and quietly repeat the question you’d been unable to answer the first time around. “What do I have to gain?”

“That is what I asked, my dear.” The tendril around your waist tightens slightly, as if to force an answer out of you.

“What do I have to lose? ” You keep your eyes fixed on the floor, and force the deepest breath you can manage in and out of your lungs. The air feels heavy and humid, and smells of long-rotten vegetation - or perhaps a half-destroyed carcass, decaying somewhere in the bayou. “When I did what I did…when I gave you my soul…I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought that if I did it, I’d feel safe enough, or - I don’t know - good enough, to make a life here. But I don’t have one outside of you.” You suck in a sharp breath, all too aware of how stilted your sentences are becoming as they pass over the growing lump in your throat. “I live here because of you. And I barely leave because of you. I don’t spend time with anyone else, because I never know when you’re going to show up, and I don’t want to make friends and then watch them get roped into whatever shit you make me do next - and I can’t sleep, because - because you’ve woken me up before, and when you do that”-

You trail off completely as you remember the last time he did this to you, the images in your head far too clear for something that happened in the dark, when you were only half awake: Hand over your face in your dream, falling to touch your shoulder with just enough force to wake you and send you bolting upright. Rise and shine, darling. Smile somehow more vivid than the red eyes glowing above it, spreading wide with a manic delight that you knew was real, too real, and far too close. I’m going to pay someone a visit. They’re not aware of it yet, but I’m afraid it just couldn’t wait. Shadow, on the wall, one that shouldn’t have existed in such a dark room, blacker than you thought anything could ever be. It’s going to be a night to remember, my dear. I wouldn’t have you miss it for the world.  

You don’t want to picture what happened next. In your mind, you skip to when it was all over. When he took your hand, still shaking from the things you’d been forced to witness, and held it tight as he scratched that poor soul’s name out of his ledger. When he set down his pen, which was still dripping a dark red liquid that barely resembled ink at all, and began to turn the pages - you knew what he was looking for long before he found your name, written in impeccable cursive, glowing slightly as he guided you to touch it. I think it looks quite lovely in my hand. Whether he was talking about his handwriting, or about your face, which he’d reached up to touch in that moment, you do not wish to know. Don’t you agree?

Now, you shake your head, as if amending the answer you’d given him that night. You don’t like how you’ve conditioned yourself to say the things he wants to hear. To believe them when you say them. “I knew I’d have to do some things for you. But…” You swallow hard, because you can’t imagine he’ll have any sympathy for you if you cry, and you don’t want to find out. “I didn’t think it would be like this. I didn’t think that it would become my entire purpose.”

“Hmm.” His sigh is light and airy, with none of the weight that your words carried. When he does speak, the condescension is unmistakable. “Tell me, then.” He crouches down in front of you, leans forward, and rests his forearms on your thighs; his elbow digs hard into your leg as he raises his hand and props his face up on his fist. His grin still doesn’t waver, and his eyes appear wider from this angle, shining with something that is, perhaps, meant to resemble sympathy. “If you chose to leave…what would your purpose be then?” He tilts his head, until it’s his cheek resting against his fist, and waits.

And you are silent. Because somehow, in all your fantasies of escaping, you never managed to get to that part. The part where you lived your life, with no one to guide you but yourself.

You don’t know what you would do. But surely, surely, it would be better than this. 

He lowers his voice, and finally, you see his smile recede slightly. It becomes softer, and the glow in his eyes fades somewhat, and it’s all so unexpected that you don’t even question whether it’s real. “I know a lost soul when I see one, darling.” With his other hand, he lazily traces a path up and down your thigh. It would be almost soothing, you think, if it wasn’t him. “There’s a reason I wanted you. And a reason I keep you so close.” He sighs, and you can smell his breath, the hint of whiskey that doesn’t come close to masking the familiar rancid scent beneath. But there’s something sweet there, too. That’s new. “I think,” he murmurs, “that you have more to lose now than you ever did before.”

You try to tell yourself that you don’t want him to keep talking. That you want him to disappear now, and for good. But memories of your old life - your old after life, before he took over - are beginning to press their way forward. They make your stomach churn in a different way than any of his cruelty. 

“There’s also a reason - the same reason, in a way - that you were so easy to win over.” He opens his hand, and lets his cheek rest against his palm. There’s nothing dangerous about the way he’s looking at you now, or at least, nothing outwardly menacing, and you find yourself thinking about the night he approached you. Before anything about him seemed dangerous at all. When his appearance in your life seemed like a glorious stroke of luck.

“It was only easy because I didn’t know anything.” You’re disoriented, looking down at him, and it takes away whatever resolve you had left; your voice comes out quiet and hollow. “I hadn’t been here long. Everything about this place scared me. And I was alone…” You weren’t with anyone that night, but that’s not what you mean. Your chest seems to tighten as you remember those early days. The paranoia that haunted your every step, convincing you that something awful was about to step out of the shadows at any moment. The panic of not knowing how you fit into the world around you, and being sure that you would never truly know. The pure hopelessness of being consigned, for eternity, to the one place where no one in the world has ever wanted to go, and knowing that you could blame no one but yourself.

Alastor raises his head, slowly, and lets his hand drop gently against your thigh. “Well, my dear.” His palm touches first, and his fingers fall lightly, their touch barely perceptible at all until he presses them down in an almost-reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone anymore, are you?” 

“No." You barely even remembered how it felt, until this moment. To be lost. To have nothing, not even the nightmares of the present, to justify your existence. You didn’t think about it.

You didn’t let yourself think about it. Because thinking about it would mean -

“That’s right. You’ll never be alone again, if you don’t wish to be.”

It’s fake, this comfort. Always has been. But you can’t ignore it, now - the way you want to believe it. If it wasn’t from him, you’d have nothing to comfort you at all. You find your mind wandering to your name in his hand, glowing in his book, and wonder if anyone else will ever think of you enough to write it down.

“As for fear… ” His voice is so soft, now, that you feel the need to quiet your breathing. To inhale slowly, between words, and exhale carefully, lest he pause at a hitch in your breath. “What do you fear most, at this moment?” 

Again, you are silent. This time, it’s not because you don’t have an answer. It’s because the one you have seems far too dangerous to say out loud. 

If you leave, and things are exactly how they were before…or worse…

“Uncertainty is a terrible thing, isn’t it?” He pauses, and glances to the side for a moment before speaking, his gaze snapping back into place so quickly that you barely catch its shift. “I’ll gladly admit to planting the thought in your head. My having done so doesn’t make the idea any less real.”

The tendril binding you to your chair disappears. It takes you a moment to notice the absence of pressure on your abdomen. Even then, you do not move. You keep yourself in place, sitting perfectly straight, because you don’t know what will happen if you don’t. 

You stay exactly where you are, even as he rises to his feet and turns to the side, leaving you a clear path to the door. You watch, motionless, as an arm made of shadow extends along the wall and wraps its long, distorted fingers over the doorknob. 

“Walk away from me now, if you wish. You have my word that your soul will depart along with the rest of you.” The door creaks open, in time with the parting of his teeth, and the appearance of his staff in his hand. Its head pulses with a faint green light. You stare into it, and wonder if it’s your soul that you see flickering in its midst. 

“And if I don’t?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see the gap between the door and its frame narrow slightly. And again, slightly more.

“To be entirely honest… I can’t imagine that I’ll ever feel inclined to give you another chance.” The light on his staff grows larger and brighter, and shifts towards you, as if daring you to pull it out. “On the other hand…” He leans forward, and tilts his head, his spine contorting with the sideways motion until his mouth is directly beside your ear. “If you do leave, that door will close behind you. And it will never open for you again.”

The green light ebbs, just a bit, and you think about the first time you saw it. That night was cold, and damp, the kind of weather that eats away at you slowly, sinking its way under your clothes and skin bit by bit, until you can’t even remember a time when you were warm. The kind of weather that seems to suck the color out from around you, leaving you stranded in a world of gray and black and muddy, desolate brown. The place inside you where you imagine your soul once resided felt heavy, just as waterlogged as every other bit of you. 

And it seemed to lighten the moment you shook his hand. The moment you traded…

It was more than your soul, you think. It was the things you feared. The things you despised in the world, and yourself. They’re all gone, now, because now, there is only one face that makes you feel these things. It’s better like this, you think. 

It’s soon to be out of your hands, either way.

The door eases shut, and you close your eyes, because you do not want to see the green light fade. It’s better not to see. Better to pretend that it was never there at all.

“Well done, my dear.” The filter has dropped from his voice. It was there, distorting his every word, until now. But why say anything about that? You keep your eyes closed, and sit still as he traces the back of his hand down the side of your face. Thinking about flinching away, but doing nothing at all.

“Stay for as long as you’d like.” He sounds different, still. Not sincere, perhaps, but closer to it than he was before. “You’ve gone through quite a lot tonight. I expect it will take you some time to feel like yourself again.” He takes a step back, but remains close, and you don’t have to look to know how intently he’s watching.

There is not much left to watch. You slide your hands down from the armrest, and clasp them together, eyes still shut tight. Head down. If you stayed in this room until you felt like yourself, you think, you’d never leave.

Then again - if you wanted to feel like yourself, you would already have left.

[weirdo-fun]

What Else Can I Do?

Azriel x Reader - Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic. I don't know if this will be good at all or people will even like it. This idea has been in my head for a few months and I finally caved and wrote it. This will be a few chapters maybe 3 chapters long? I don't know but I hope you enjoy! Also side note grammar is not my strong suit, so if there are any grammar mistakes please be nice. :)

Summary: Reader ends up geting turned fae and befriends Elain and gets super close with her. But Reader notices Elain gets treated differently, and Reader would like to change that but a certain batboy always gets in her way of trying to help her friend and under her skin.

Word Count: 1.7 K

Warnings: Bickering, slight dislike of inner circle, slight enemies to lovers, fem! reader, reader being sort of a rebel

Author's Note: Was this slightly insipred by "What Else Can I Do?" From Encanto? Maybe... (I do not claim or take credit for the song, all rights for the song go to the respected owners)

Side Note: Azriel will come into the story later I promise.

“Why do you let them do that to you?” You ask Elain as you sit on in arm chair with both legs draped across one arm of the chair with your back leaning against the other one. The book you were just reading now lay on your chest as you look at Elain who is sitting, a lot more elegantly, on a sofa adjacent to you. You wait for her to answer as you give her a questionable look. 

She sheepishly looks up from her own book. “I don’t mind it. I know they only want whats best for me and to protect me.” You raise an eyebrow at her not entirely believing her. “Yeah, but doesn’t it bother you that they practically tell you what you can and can’t do?” You ask, pushing the conversation more. 

These have been questions you have had for a while. Ever since you and Archeron sisters were thrown into the caldron and turned High Fae, everyone decided, weather subconsciously or not, to keep Elain in this sort of bubble. Treating her as this precious flower that needs all the protection from everyone. You never had any ill will towards Elain, she is a very feminine woman who does tend to be on the more soft spoken side, which is what makes Elain Elain. This is what gravitated you towards Elain and wanting to be her friend. Being a very outspoken and extroverted person you always tended to befriend the more quiet types. It has always been this way since you were a child. The extroverted girl talking and hanging out with the introverts. You don’t know why you subconsciously gravitated to being friends with the quieter crowd when you were the complete opposite. Maybe it gave balance in your life. You being the talker and the other one being the listener. You don’t know why or how but those friendships always worked out when you were mortal. 

That was true until you accidentally, more like breaking a rule, decided to take a stroll in the middle of the night throughout the Archeron estate. You were a newly hired servant and you were too excited for your new job that you couldn’t sleep so you walked around the estate and ended up in the middle of the crossfire of the Archeron sisters, Nesta and Elain, being kidnapped. You of course jumped in to help but ended up being taken as well. 

After being turned and by the grace of the Mother, the Inner Circle allowed you to stay even though you weren’t related to the Archeron’s. You were still turned fae and needed a place to stay. Although the healing process was slow and mostly done on your own you never thought the inner circle was completely bad.  

It wasn’t until Elain finally started to come around and was healing from her trauma when you decided to befriend her. You guys fastly became close. Mostly thanks to you for always seeking her out and wanting to strike up a conversation. From the outside it may have appeared that you kept forcing yourself in her life but Elain wouldn’t turn you away and she would start conversations a good portion of the time. But it was when you guys started to become close that you noticed the treatment that the inner circle gave her. You never said anything in the beginning thinking you were thinking too much into it. But after so many days, and even weeks of the same treatment that you were questioning everything regarding Elain. 

You have questioned Elain about this treatment but she would brush it off saying things like “oh well i don’t see a difference” or “it’s ok Reader they are just being friendly and making sure I am ok.” And you haven’t pushed Elain further until today. 

A certain bat boy got under your skin earlier. And to be frank, he actually has always gotten under your skin when it comes to Elain. He is the master of the “delicate flower treatment” towards Elain. This treatment would be cute if 1) he was courting her, which he isn’t and 2) if it was dialed waaaaay back and the treatments actually respected her as being a true adult woman and not a fragile little girl. 

Azriel, is the bat that gets under your skin. You have tried to be friendly to him but he never talks to you and you never know what he is thinking. His face, although you first thought very handsome when you first met him, is always expressionless and stone cold. You have tried to be civil with him but because of your outspoken and extroverted nature he mostly disagrees with you for the simple fact that he knows you don’t like how he treats Elain. You have confronted him before about the matter in a friendly way but he shut you out and blew you off saying how you don’t know anything about what Elain has gone through and you don’t know whats best for her. The whole interaction left your relationship with him strained. And since then both you and Azriel have been on opposite sides on everything. Both wanting to challenge each other and win; never seeing eye to eye.  

Elain sheepishly shrugs. “I don’t think they really do-.” “Girl, no they do.” You interrupt her sternly. She looks at the ground and her posture slouches a little and you can tell that she knows your right. That her sister, with Cassian, and especially Azriel treat her as a fragile little princess. That anything can break her. But she survived the Caldron, she survived her trauma from it. You know she is a strong woman and you try to show her that; try to show the inner circle that. “You know I am right.” You say in a firm way as you swing your legs from on top of the arm rest to sitting right in the chair with your feet on the ground and back straight. She looks at you with innocent and confused eyes. “Well, I don’t know what to say to them when they tell me what I can and can’t do. I just agree because I don’t want to create conflict with them.” She softens her tone at the end, getting shy and embarrassed. “But is that what you want?” You ask her straight in the eye. “To keep agreeing with whatever they say and tell you how to live your life? To not have an opinion or a say? Is that what you want?” You ask in a calm yet concerned manner. “Well, it’s just that-” “Is that what you want?” “Well no but-” “Is that what you want?!” “I can’t just-” “ELAIN! Is that what you want?!” You yell for a third time. Wanting to hear her true feelings, her true thoughts and opinions on the matter. With no bullcrap excuse about how she won’t mind for stupid reasons. And no running away from this conversation. 

“No.” She speaks so softly that you don’t hear it. “What?” You ask leaning into her to hear what she said. “No” Elain says. You hear it this time, but her head is down and her hair is fell in front of her face, not being able to see her. “Elain what did you say? I can’t hear you?” You lie to her to try and get her to voice her opinion louder and to lift her head up and say it more confidently. She slowly lifts her head, straightens her back and looks at you with truthful eyes. “No. That is not what I want.” She says without her voice wavering. “I would like to go out shopping when I want to go. I would like for them to tell me things straight up and stop carefully stepping around eggshells thinking I won’t be able to handle it, that I might break.” 

You smile at her. Proud that she was finally able to say what she was feeling out loud. You walk over to her and pull her up to stand and give her a hug. “That is all I wanted to hear you say.” You look at her proudly holding onto her upper arms. “But, I still don’t know how to tell that to them. You know it’s hard for me to voice my opinion.” You shake your head. “We will take this one step at a time. Step one was to get you to voice out loud to me what you actually want. And we did that, so congratulations.” You tease as you walk back over to the arm chair you were sitting at to pick up the book you were reading. “Well then what’s the next step?” Elain asks curiously. You smirk and turn towards her. She sees the smirk on your face knowing you are already planning something. Her eyes widen in concern because every time you had a plan it would always get you in trouble and Azriel would always be the one to scold you. But you keep doing these “plans” because you didn’t care what Azriel was going to tell you.

“Remember when you told me that you thought my power could do so much more, than make pretty plants and flowers?” You ask as you create just a simple pink rose on your hand. “Yes.” She nods, not knowing where this conversations was going. You smile, “Well, I have been secretly trying to practice to create new things but it’s hard when just in the confines on my room.” You hand her the pink rose that you just created. “Why don’t we take a walk through the forest. And maybe along our walk I try to practice without the worry of the inner circles eyes and ears.” You ask sheepishly. “Look I know this is supposed to be about you but I would just like to be with my favorite person in the forest exploring my power more without judging eyes.” You plead. Elain nods and gives a small smile. “Thank you Reader for wanting to help me. And if helping me also includes me being able to see your power that I am super jealous of by the way, then yes.” You smile at her, grab her hand and both of you guys start to giggle like little girls as you guys walk out of the living area planning to “sneak out”. 

That is it for Chapter 1! Did I also give Reader Isabela's powers?...Read the next chapter to find out! I am already thinking about chapter 2 and I promise Azriel and Reader will be interacting with each but I was setting everything up until then. But chapter 2 may take me while to publish because I am getting ready for my vacation but depending on how people react to this I may be motivated to publish it sooner. ;) Please if you have feedback leave a comment because I would love to read them. Thank you so much for reading and if you made it this far. Until next time, take care everyone!

[yaut-jaknowit]

Begging you for some more smut with Mai’tuiudh. Could start off as angst and follow up from the same male soldier reader idea, thought it could be fun and I love your creativity (I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t kicking my feet the day it was posted.) And as always, drink some water and take care:D

Returned to Him Part 2

Pairing: Mai'tuiudh (male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Warnings: Hate sex, rough sex, seems mean but they love each other (promise), no prep, use of lube, lots of teasing, biting, blood (from biting), marking, knotting, mentions of breeding, Mai’s a possessive cunt, forceful cum eating.

Word Count: 2998

Summary: Shortly after you return from battle, Mai'tuiudh in on the verge of never letting out of his sit. He's damn near ready to kidnap you and take you to his ship. But, you were able to talk him down. Yet, he still presses the issues. He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand you are afraid. You don't know if you could survive out there. This leads to a heated argument.

Author Note: Please forgive me for how long it took me to get to you! But I hope to make it up with writing hate sex. Enjoy! Ehehehe

Masterlist

Ao3

After three days of bed rotting with Mai nearly refusing to move from on top of you, he finally allowed you to have some space. For an alien who sits alone in his ship for months, he’s a needy, greedy creature. He needs you. He wants you. He’ll stop at nothing to have you by his side for the rest of his life. Nearly going as far as kidnapping you and dragging you to his ship.

When he attempted that trick, you had to talk him down from fulfilling that idea. The life he wants to live with you, out in space, that’s too much of a leap right now. To leave everything behind was something you couldn’t just do without preparing first, talking about it.

Plus, there’s people’s lives in your hands. You work with your military brothers and sisters to protect this nation from any threat. To the point, you’ve even lost your arm for it. This far deep? You couldn’t just abandon your life without thinking about it, talking about it.

But Mai? He doesn’t understand. The lifestyle is completely different. The differences between livelihoods and cultures. He knows at a young age already, he’ll be exploring the stars one day, hunting. You, on the other hand, wouldn’t expect to even leave earth’s atmosphere at any time. Mai believes that’s complete horseshit.

“Come live with me. We can hunt together. Get away from here. We can be together,” Mai argues and giving you a desperate look. One he would deny until his days end. He’ll also deny the fact he was pleading with you, wanting nothing more for you to join him.

You groaned and placed down the spoon, the noodles being stirred enough. “Mai-“ you about faced on your heel “- I’ve told you already: I’m not ready.” Mai growled, face morphing with frustration. His nails dragged across the kitchen counter. “I’ve never expected to live out there. Who knows the dangers? Or the fact if I could even survive?”

Had he not thought about that? The two of you are completely different species. Could humans even survive beyond the atmosphere? Or would you just be confined to his ship? Those are the worries that hold you back. But Mai’tuiudh doesn’t understand this. Not when his life revolves around space travel.

As the ignorant male he his, Mai rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion and leaned against the counter. His one arm holding up his upper body. “Do you think I would take you out there if I didn’t know it was safe?” he snapped and glared at you, brows lowered.

“You know what, Mai! I don’t know. I know so little about you that it makes me nervous.” You threw up your hands. “You can’t get mad at me for randomly leaving when you do the same or you just show up in my room out of nowhere.” You dragged your hand down your face then gave him a pointed look. “You know out there. I don’t.”

Mai huffed and rolled his head again. Maybe he could find his brain while he’s doing that. “And I could teach you. I don’t know why you think this is such a big deal. It’s space. You’ll have me every step of the way. I’ll teach you the ways to protect yourself.” The blue Yautja made it sound so sweet. Like this was a life you’ve always meant to.

The frustration hit a boiling point inside of you. With less than a week to cooperate your life after loosing your limb and him hounding down on you like that, you snapped. You marched over to him and shoved your finger into his chest. “You know what?! I’ve had it. You are not even thinking about me. Just your fucking self.”

“You fight a meaningless war. If you join me amongst the stars, I can give you a reason to fight, to hunt. You would never have to worry about anything with me,” he argued and stepped forward. That forced you to step back. Mai kept pushing you until your back met the wall in the kitchen.

Both of your hands, metal and not, were curled into fists as you angrily stared up at Mai. “At least I fight for my country. What do you do? Kill and hunt people! Good people. They don’t deserve to die.” He hunts for trophies. Those trophies include people from your kind. Humans.

A growl echoed around you. The blue Yautja leaned down and got into your face. “You don’t seem to hate it when I gift said trophies to you.” The only human skull you accepted was sitting upon a shelf in your bedroom, above your bed. His growl morphed into a purr. One of his hands rested on your chest, pinning you effectively to the wall.

Other courting gifts were around the small space offered to you. A space that you only needed.

Blood instantly ran south, your cock twitch in the confines of your pants. “I hate you,” you snarled at him with less fire than before.

Mai smirked an alien expression and brushed his lower mandibles against your jaw. His hand slid up to ensnare your throat. “You don’t. Not when I’m balls deep in your ass,” he purred into your ear. You couldn’t help the shuttered that controlled your body for a moment. Your heart beat increased, thundering under his fingers.

“I don’t know wh-what you mean,” you sputtered and attempted to keep your angry façade on. Yet, when his knee nudged between your legs, it was hard to focus on nothing more than the pleasure he was creating with little touches. “You kill people. You hunt people.”

“And?” he dismissed with smug look still on his face. The blue Yautja jerked his knee up. You instantly grinded down on it. “Clearly, you don’t mind I hunt your species. That I take their skulls. Like I could do to you at any moment, but I don’t. Because you’re my mate.”

Fuck, you were losing yourself so quickly. You reeled back your thought and tried to remember the current argument. “I can’t just… just leave my home. This is all I know.” You grinded your hips down, your cock beginning to harden and growing a bulge in your pants. A noticeable bulge that Mai reached down cupped. You grunted, teeth clenched shut for the moment. “I hate you.”

“You say that as if your dick isn’t twitching against my hand,” he taunted and squeezed your shaft till it nudged a painful degree. He pulled the limb away and only offered his thigh to rut against.

“You caused this!” you snapped at him, jerking your head forward to get into his space. Yet, the hand still pinning your neck to the wall prevented that. “This is all your fault.” The inside of your pants were starting to grow sticky the longer this went on. He growled and crowded your space against with his face in yours.

His upper mandibles widened to press his snout to your nose. “It’s your own destruction, little one.” You pressed your nose harshly to his snout and glared daggers. Until, he twitched his thighs between your open ones. The harsh expression on your face instantly melted away as you moaned and began to pant.

The strength you once held fell away. You leaned back against the wall and kept rutting your hips down on his thick thigh. “I hate you,” you groaned and let your eyes drift shut. The Yautja chuckled and trailed his tongue from your jawline down your neck once his hand was out of the way. His muscle left behind a wave of goosebumps. You shuttered in his hold and reached for his shoulders.

Your hands were snatched up and pinned above your head before you could register the movement. “You don’t get to touch. Not with that attitude.” Heat from both desire and anger flared its ugly head inside of you. You pulled on his hold but he was an unmovable statue.

Mai grasped the front of your pants and swiftly tore it off of you. You yelped as your cock met the cool air of your apartment. You squirmed in his hold, rubbing your hard shaft against his thigh the best you could in this position. The head leaking pearls of white beads. You couldn’t help the whine when he refused to touch you further.

“You’re such an ass. Fucking teasing me when you can see how hard I am,” you spat at your mate who only smirked in your face in return.

A chuckle erupted from his throat. Mai squeezed his hand around your captured wrists then dragged his other hand down your torso. He purposefully ran a talon over your already perky nipple. You had to stifle a moan to not give him the satisfaction. His sharp nails left goosebumps in their wake. He stopped just shy of your aching cock.

“Look at you. Poor thing, just making such a mess,” he teased and palmed at the area above your dick. The skin still slightly sensitive due to how thin it was. You rutted up, cock slapped against your torso. “A need little ooman, desperate for my touch.”

Fire flickered alive in your eyes. “Fucking touch me, Mai! I swear to god,” you demanded and pulled at the makeshift restraints. Yet, his hold didn’t falter.

He used his thumb to rubbed over the leak tip of your cock. The sudden, intense pleasure had your breath hitching and back arching off of the wall. Then, the touch was gone. You whined and jerked your hips forward, demanding for more. “Asshole. Ass! Hole!” He just brought his thumb up to his face and licked off the bead of precum staining the finger.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fucking your asshole soon enough.” If you had the chance, you would strange him for that retort.

The blue Yautja grabbed at the leftover clothing still hanging off of your hips and tugged it off in one clean pull. Your lower body was free from anything covering it. He pulled his knee from between your legs which caused you to whine. Next, he let go of your hands, his own finding their way to your waist. They were massive, easily engulfing your hips.

One of your hands grasped at one of his tresses, the other finding a place on his shoulder. Then, Mai lifted you off of the ground. Your thighs pressed tightly to your chest, effectively pinning you in place. It only took on arm to hold you up while the other fumbled with his waist band. The Yautja was able to pull it down enough for his engorged cock to slap against his toned abdomen.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting this entire time?” He ran the tip of his own leaking cock around the tight rim of your asshole. You tried to push down enough so the very tip could push inside of you, but that failed.

“You know what I fucking want.” Mai purposefully teased you by sliding his cock between your cheeks, rubbing his slick and scent all over you. He was just as hard as you were. The two of you desperate for one another.

“Might need to remind me again,” he purred, head bowed as he watched himself scent mark you. You would smell like him for the next upcoming weeks just from this.

From his belt, he popped open a bottom and dosed his hand a little. The cold touch of lube around your puckered hold had you squirming his hold. Despite your anger for him in the moment, he wouldn’t do a thing to harm you when you didn’t consent. He did his cock next and lined up the head.

“Still hate me?” he snickered, both of his hands returned to the back of your thighs.

A glare continued to be set on the Yautja. “Fuck you.” Your head tipped back when the Yautja shoved as much of his length he could on the first thrust in. He stretched you out nicely, only able to fit half at first. Something he had to remedy swiftly.

Mai pulled back till the head was still lodged inside before surging forward. His entire shaft finally fit perfectly inside. His hips were flushed with yours, cock twitch deep inside your channel. You moaned and pulled on his tress, gaining a grunt from the alien. Mai’s hands tightened for a moment as he forced himself to stay still. “I prefer it when I’m fucking you instead,” he purred deeply, torso flushed with yours. Your cock trapped between the two bodies. The pressure adding a nice hint of pleasure to this feast.

With him deep inside of you, your resolve finally fell away. The anger that hung on you washed away. You tugged on his tress and pulled him towards your face. “Fuck me, please,” you begged him and pressed your forehead against his in a soft gesture.

“Happily.” Mai found the perfect rhythm and angle to hit your prostrate with each harsh thrust. He claimed you like many times before, knowing your body better than you did. His size offered you the ability to feel his veins each time he pulled out.

Your mate leaned down and latched his fangs onto your neck with a growl. One of your legs was leg go to hook around his waist instead. With his newly freed hand, he wrapped it around your engorged cock and teased the tip of his thumb. You smacked your head against the wall, the pain quickly forgotten about. “Mai!” you called his name in surprised, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulder.

His fangs dug deeper into your neck, not yet piercing the feeble skin. “Good boy. Keep begging. You’re mine, mine to fuck, mine to breed. You’re never allowed to leave.” The teeth on his inner mouth sunk into your flesh, drawing both a cry and blood in the same second. “I’m keeping you on my ship. Never allowed to leave me again.”

All of his words went over your head at the growing pleasure boiling in the pit of your stomach. Blood ran down from the new mark he left on you, continuously marking you as his. Forever. He snarled a deep tone and quickened his pace. His rough hand slickened with lube moved at the same pace, keeping up the speed.

The double assault turned your brain into a puddle. He ran his teeth down your neck to your shoulder and snapped his jaw shut. More blood dripped from another wound he created.

“You’re pauk-de mine, little one!” he snarled and pinched the head of your cock. More precum leaked out to stain his fingertips.

This time, he forced his fingers into your mouth and made you taste yourself on them. They were shoved to the back of your throat. You gagged on them, throat tightening around them. “Yeah, you take anything I give, don’t you?” He had unlatched from your shoulder and licked at the shell of your ear. The taste of your own precum salty on your tongue.

Mai’tuiudh pulled them out and resumed to jerking you off. The saliva on his fingers adding to the slick covering your shaft. You mewled. Your metal hand still holding onto his tress while your flesh one gripped his shoulder with a deadly hold.

“Are you going to come? Already?” He could feel the telltale signs of your muscles pulsing around his thick shaft. Not that he was doing so hot either. His knot already expanding, waiting for his seed to spill into you awaiting body.

“So-so are you,” you retorted with a snarky response and kept panting. Your head rolled back, exposing the column of your throat to him. Blood already stained your skin. His teeth have already laid their claim on you.

A chuckle escaped from the alien. “Yeah, yeah I am. Because I know I’m going to knot you and fill your ass with my seed. I’ve marked you, my mate.” By gods grace, he was good at that.

Close to edge, he focused solely on your tip with short, quick jerks. You were instantly spurting cum all over his hand and chest, running down his toned abs. Your eyes rolled into your head as every muscle tightened and locked down on his still pounding cock.

“That’s it, good boy. Coming around me. Yeah,” he said with a breathy tone and rested his forehead against your shoulder. “You’re going to take it. You’re going to take every drop or I’m going to fuck it back into you. Don’t you dare waste a single drop.” His pace quickened, throwing you into oversensitivity. You tried to squirm, anything to get him to ease up or at least stop touching your cock. But, Mai get’s what he wants.

With one last thrust, he buried his knot passed your tight ring of muscles and filled you with his seed. He groaned deeply, body twitching. His cock throbbed, pulsing as his seed fills you. Not a single drop allowed to drip pass the knot sealing everything inside of you.

You groaned and let your eyes fluttered open once he stopped twitching. A lopsided grin washed over your features. Mai picked up his head to look down at you and mess he made of you. A grunt sounded from the giant. He leaned down and rubbed his forehead to yours in a sweet manner. “You always look so good with me knotted inside of you,” he chuckled and laved his tongue over the marks on your neck and shoulder.

Pain shot across the marred skin. You couldn’t help the whine that sounded from the back of your throat. He kept licking, silently telling you his apologies. Not that he meant them when he would do them all over again.

Smoke filled your senses. Your eyes snapped wide, head whipping towards the kitchen. Shit! The spaghetti!

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Furia

Chapter Twenty Three

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Isaac/Tamara,

Word Count: 1780

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, the thing is they hurt each other a lot, most of the time without meaning to.

A/N: We pick up right where we left off. Trouble tries to get ready to go out on tour, Dean sets off alarms.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t fair, you were not being fair. But that didn’t change that sick feeling crawling up your throat. Face burning, you looked at Dean who was pointedly not looking at you. You counted the deep breaths he took, his nostrils flared less the longer you sat in suffocating silence.

You should have said something.

You had no idea how to take it back. It wasn’t even what you said, it was how you said it, so derisively.

You wanted to disappear.

The traffic on the freeway only seemed to get worse the longer you sat. It had been a good day, even with Dean’s snippiness over the Rolling Stone article. Why did you have to open your big mouth?!

You bit the inside of your cheek, you were not going to cry. You knew how guys felt about girls crying, it’s a cop out, or a pathetic ‘get out of jail free’ card. Despite knowing girls usually cried out of frustration rather than actual sadness. You didn’t want to come off as pandering or fucking weak.

“Look—- I don’t want to make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. But, we’ve all seen how well the press and the fans have responded to you two. Is this something I need to put the brakes on? Because I need to know before we start touring.”

Dean huffed. “It’s fine—- it’s not about Bela, okay? It was just an honest question.”

You waited because it felt like he had more to say. You owed it to him to let him say his piece.

He let out a self deprecating chuckle. “You really think it’s just because I’m a horndog, I’d want out?”

“Dean— I didn’t mean it like that, I—”

“No, you did. You were very clear. I just gotta know, Y/N, is there no other reason you can think of for me to want out than some easy lay?”

He wasn’t even pretending to keep his eyes on the road anymore. His jaw was tight and his eyes were dark and glossy and every hope you’d ever had fluttered in your stomach.

You were supposed to say something back.

But you had already said too much.

You couldn’t lose him over something as avoidable as a misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t— nu-uh, that’s not what I asked. I don’t want your apology, here, okay? Just—- tell me there’s something else that could get me out of this without being the bad guy.”

It hurt to look at him. 

But God was it even harder to look away.

“I can talk to Crowley— work out a timeline if you want?”

Dean shook his head, looked to the ceiling of the impala, and exhaled deeply. “No—- we’re good. But if you ever think of an answer. I want to hear you say it.”

You looked down at your lap, your phone case biting into your palm where you squeezed it. 

“I don’t know what you’re fishing for, Dean. I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologize, but I feel like I can’t help but put my foot in my mouth tonight.”

“It’s okay, Trouble. No hard feelings. Promise.”

You looked up to make sure he wasn’t still pissed.

“Seriously?”

Dean’s mouth twitched with a ghost of a smile. “Seriously.”

It wasn’t until you were safe and distracted with drinks and everyone else at Elizabeth’s that you realized Dean had called you by your real name. You couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

No one really talks about the non-glamourous tasks required before going on tour. Especially not the ones that have nothing to do with the music and everything to do with leaving your home for months on end. Your personal to-do list always fell by the wayside when it came to the band, but you were running out of time on it now. In less than 48 hours, the opening act would take the stage. 

And three days after that you would officially be on the road, for nearly six months straight. 

You shoved a quart of half-eaten fried rice into a garbage bag and moved onto the vegetable drawer. Cleaning out the fridge didn’t take very long, but going through your pantry was a nightmare. When did you even buy half of this shit?! The cans would last, but a lot of the boxed stuff was already halfway to expiring so you set them aside to drop off somewhere over the next couple of days. 

Then you wiped everything down.

By the time the kitchen surfaces were done, you were sweaty and gross. But you had too much momentum to stop there. You swept and mopped the floor. You took a breath and pushed on. Later that evening while taking out the trash, your neighbor, Isaac, waved at you over the half-fence.

“Getting ready to get back on the road then?” His accent was pleasant as ever.

You sighed and blew a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. “Getting there. I never understand how much I need to clean with it just being me. But here I am, like usual.”

He poked at some meat on the grill as he made conversation. “Tam said we’re due over tomorrow to go over things before you leave?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, anytime after you both get home from work is fine, I’ll just be forcing myself to actually pack at that point. I really appreciate you guys looking over the place.”

“It’s nothing really. Plus you more than compensate us for it, love.”

“I know, but still.” You looked down at your dust streaked tshirt and ratty sweats and decided you had been out in the world long enough looking like that. “Alright, I better get back inside. See you tomorrow, Isaac.”

“TTFN!”

You smiled to yourself as you stepped back inside through the side door. You were so lucky to have good neighbors, especially with the way your job worked. Dean had told you all about Tamara and Isaac before you moved in, making sure you knew everything from the seriousness of not asking about kids to the humor of not insulting classic Doctor Who.

When Dean remembered, he’d still meet Isaac at one of the few English style pubs for a football match every now and again.

And they didn’t seem to mind housesitting for you whenever you needed.

The smell of the dry rub from Isaac’s grill haunted you as you went back into your clean, yet emptied out kitchen. It just meant another night of delivery was in your future.

You woke up grumpy from an incessant buzzing coming from your phone. The first notification was from Twitter and you opened it without checking anything else.

Ugh, okay, fine. Dean dropped Bela off late last night. You weren’t too worried about it. So you tried to go back to sleep. But a nagging feeling in the back of your mind kept prodding the possibilities into your thoughts.

Before jumping to any conclusions, you got out of bed and started a pot of coffee.

There had been a lot of little things you had to ignore in the day-to-day of being the band’s publicist, and even more you had to try and bury as their friend. Cas’ penchant for banging journalists was one of the ongoing thorns in your side. And of course all of Lee and Pamela’s on-again-off-again nonsense came up more than was even happening. But Dean knew how to leave a hook up. He also knew when he was being tailed. 

This entire headline smelled fishy.

You bit your lip and opened your contacts. It was still too early for a business call, especially since you knew he was out until after bar close, but you couldn’t wait any longer for answers.

The phone rang in your ear and you silently begged your coffee pot to brew faster. Dean answered just before it would have sent you to his voicemail.

“I’m up— where’s the fire?” Dean mumbled into the microphone.

Without any preamble, you started in on the questions. “Have you seen the latest? People are up in arms over you squealing out of Bela’s driveway this morning. What happened?” 

“Uh, hold on,” Dean must have moved the phone or covered the mouthpiece because you could hear his voice rumbling, but couldn’t make out a single thing he said. Then came a bunch of muted background noises and a door opening and closing. “Okay, wanna run that past me again? Slower and without the accusatory tone— it’s not even fucking nine am, Trouble.”

Your suspicions continued to rise. “Where are you?”

“In a hallway.”

Not ‘the’ hallway, not ‘my’ hallway, an unspecified singular hallway.

“Dean—”

“Look. The paps were fucking vultures last night, I caught one of them trying to lowjack Baby. So, I ditched her, and Sam got her back home safe. I circled back after I knew they’d scattered and I stayed put. There’s nothing to worry about. Just people trying to make me look bad for being too smart for their slimy ways.”

Your brain hissed like a television left between channels, not a signal coming or going in either direction.

“You’re at Bela’s.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yep.”

Your business brain rebooted, slowly.

“Trouble?”

You called him, you should have said something already. “Okay, so, uh, I guess just make sure to leave publicly. Or go out for breakfast or something. Just don’t leave it how they’re spinning it.”

Dean huffed. “Makes sense. Anything else?”

“Tomorrow is the morning show interview, you said you’d pick me up? Is that still gonna happen or should I just get an Uber? I’ll just call an Uber.”

“I mean, yeah, gotta be home to drag Sam with anyway. So you don’t gotta. We’ll be there with bells on right at five.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“I should go—”

“Right, of course. Bye.”

“Talk to you later.”

You hung up and your coffee pot finally whistled, signaling it had completed brewing.

You moved through your morning routine in a fog. Even when Bela posted a gorgeous fruit plate between matching mimosas sometime before noon, you only gave it a heart and moved on to folding your next load of laundry. Once you let yourself look at what was happening, you gave into the anger. You screamed into an old hoodie until you were hoarse.

Dean was actually sleeping with Bela.

Your two best friends were fucking.

The same best friends you had set up to help make your job easier.

What the fuck was your life?

And how the hell were you supposed to pretend any of this was okay?!

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

[lamamasjamas]

Love at First Sight (1/9)

A/n: I had a dream, and this is what happened. It's the breeding kink for me smh. Also, my requests are open! If you read this before you probably have lolz. Consider this a reboot.

Warnings: Dark!Din!, dub-con, stalker behavior, breeding/ pregnancy kink, kidnapping, smut, heavily implied forced pregnancy, Dark fic!

Love at First Sight Masterlist

He meets you at some scroungy run of the mill planet barely making by. A part of his heart aches for the way you beg for more credits as you finish your shift at the droid restoration center.

The desperation in your tone prompts him to start to watch you from afar.

As the days pass and he purposely doesn’t catch his bounty he starts to get enamored with the idea of you. He watches as you make your way home, stopping by to pass some younglings some fruits from occupied merchant's stands.

You entertain their chatter, their games and their childish squabbles. The children found solace in you and in some way, they were a distraction to your misfortunes.

The way you treat your village's younglings with kindness makes him fawn over the idea of possibly giving you kids of your own.

You are wholly unaware of his stare. Too lost in your desperate need for credits and the worry of not having food or at the very least rations on your plate for the days ahead of you. You were glad you didn’t have any family. Not even a partner. You only had to work for yourself.

He was glad too. There would be less people that would miss you. He takes advantage of your desperation. He doesn’t feel any sort of remorse about that.

You started to find packets of rations on your doorstep frequently. You’ve even started to gain some weight because of it. At least enough to make your ribs stay hidden underneath your skin.

Din watches each day as you start to smile more, your cheeks were fuller, and your natural form was filling out. A sense of pride fills him. He did that. He’s the one making you happy and keeping you satisfied and well fed.

A month in he starts to get antsy. He suddenly has the deep need to touch you. To feel your warmth. Watching you wasn’t going to be enough anymore.

You noticed his every move. The whole village did. Mandalorians were thought to be the best hunters in the galaxy and yet, it seemed as if he couldn't find his target anywhere.

It was frequent discussion amongst the adults. Why was he here? Who was he looking for? At times, you'd turn your head to stare. His vizor would pointedly look elsewhere. His hand would twitch, and it felt like he caught your gaze.

You'd walk past him quickly, striding with your bag, head down and breath quickened. You're sure he didn't even notice you, why would he?

He starts to dream. At first, they were short and sweet, holding hands and caressing cheeks. Things seem to divulge from there. Passionate kisses turn to hot touches. Then that leads to him breeding you over his console, his bunk, the riverbank where you wash your clothes in the middle of night, thinking that you have a semblance of privacy from the village, the children, your boss... Anywhere where he could have you, he did. In his dreams.

He always thought you looked beautiful. If only he saw you fucked out of your mind, babbling his name and pleading him to expand his clan together. Then you would look like a goddess.

The minute he walked up to you asking you for directions to a bar, which he’s been to multiple times at this point, you smiled at him. He ignored the way your eyes frantically looked around, how the rest of the villagers stumbled away.

You were just nervous. You heart was probably beating out of your chest not from fear, but from adoration.

He liked the way you easily trusted him. It was as if your soul was meant to be intertwined with his. You were basically eating at the palm of his hand, he thought.

“Can you lead me there?” He asks after you told him where to go, pointing towards the other direction, heel already turned to walk away. You nodded but hesitated. You're pretty sure he could find it himself; you didn't say anything to retort.

You chuckle to yourself as some of the children from your town wave at you frantically and he wants to have that sound embedded in his mind forever. He looks to you and heat rises up your neck. The visor was pointed so directly at you, his gaze was all encompassing.

Once you’ve made it to the front doors of the town bar you shift on your feet. He watches as you play with your tunic, lifting it slightly and showing some of the skin of your belly.

He has to keep himself calm as he imagines it round and full. Bursting and swollen with his child or children. His stance widens slightly as he feels the front of his pants get hotter.

“Here we are-“ “Would you like to have a drink?” You sputter as he speaks over you.

You chuckle awkwardly. “I don’t drink. Sorry.” He doesn’t stop staring at you. You fidget nervously when he doesn’t make a move to go inside. By himself.

“I guess I could just order a juice… or something.”

He asks you about yourself. You respond as vague as possible. It was alright, he already knew everything about you. He assumed you were just shy.

You were slightly taken aback by his persistent behavior. Your heart warmed at the thought that he was interested in you, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

He was dangerous. He was strapped full of weapons.

You didn’t think much of it after a while, when he spoke to you in a soft gentle voice. He had a dry sense of humor, an awkward disposition. The fear turned to intrigue, and he told you he was planning on leaving planet in the next few weeks.

That prompted you to lead him to your apartment. You didn’t want a relationship, not with a bounty hunter at least, you just wanted some company.

He was a passionate lover, you thought. He always focused on your pleasure and then his. He whispered the dirtiest things to you. Half mumbling and stuttering about how he was breeding you and stuffing you so full of his cum that he was going to get you pregnant with his babies.

You didn’t fully understand his words, but you liked the thought of them, only the thought. You just didn’t know he meant them from his heart, and that the moment your passionate night ended his plans for you were solidified.

Company, you got. Every day he would knock at your door accompanying you for breakfast and sometimes staying until dinner. In your ignorance you thought he was just lonely. You wanted to see him as a fling, you thought he did too.

One day he sounded exceptionally happy. The whole town had isolated themselves inside their homes. That very morning, the Mandalorian finally hunted.

Blaster fires could be heard resounding from the market area, patches of residue were left on walls and stalls. He showed at your front door, holding a bag, pooling with red underneath it.

He asked you to come with him to turn in the bounty. On Nevarro. You were confused, you refused even as he pleaded. You didn’t notice the needle he pulled out of his pouch as he tread closer to you.

No one was out. No one would have done anything even if they saw your unconscious body fall into his steady arms.

You woke up suddenly in a ship’s bunk. Afraid and disgruntled you sat up only to slump against cold metallic panels. The bunk door opened and revealed the Mandalorian, without his helmet and carrying a small green child.

Your head was full of cotton, you could barely move, you couldn't speak.

The child heaved out of his arms and stepped onto the cot in front of you. He gurgled as if saying hello. You stared in shock. The Mandalorian smiled at you warmly, pressing his palm to your cheek and trailing it to your stomach.

“Say hello to your mother, ad.”

[tired-reader-writer]

Okay so for some unknowable reason I fell into watching a let's play series of a horror game, and now I'll definitely be jumping at shadows for the foreseeable future until the spell wears off. I'm not good with horror. I knew this, and yet I felt compelled to watch it—

But enough about me, let's kinda vomit out the AU brain mulch that has formed in my head in an incoherent manner.

This has to do with Hilmes, Ranna/Ashaya, and the Haunted Temple™ that will be featuring in the fic.

I would highly recommend you check out the link first to get some context on what the everloving fuck I'm talking about because this thing ain't coherent, baby!

Also, some stuff might contradict each other, I'm still trying to suss out what works and what doesn't, this is basically unfiltered brain soup.

Folk tale added to the Temple, it's deep in the woods, “don't go into the woods, don't go into the ruins, it'll eat you up” is a cautionary tale everyone knows about.

Wonky time mechanics. You wander into the Temple, you've only been there for a hour you swear but you come back out months later.

Folk tale as a foreshadowing device: a royal princess was said to have been snatched up by a bandit in this region— some say she was kidnapped, others say she fell in love with this bandit. Who knows, really? Is the tale even true?

The above folk legend as a foreshadowing device for Ashaya being 1) a secret princess, 2) joining the clan though I guess it's not much of a foreshadowing since they'll most likely be gone w Farangis in the same chapter the myth is mentioned [because the clan got mistaken for bandits and got killed in the first chapter, remember?], 3) falling in love with Alfarīd aka a bandit.

The tale could also be an “explanation” for a princess that actually went missing— a young woman who wandered into the temple for some reason (unclear) finds out something so terrible that she can't bear to face the world outside again.

(it's about Kaykhusraw's betrayal)

I'm still not sure whether I'll actually keep the princess part. It could be a neat bit of foreshadowing for Hilmes discovering smth, maybe he sees an imprint of her, but I feel there's no way to communicate her journey effectively in the story since nobody actually knows what happened to her

Still though, I like the idea of Parsian royal women having worldbuilding and perhaps even plot relevance. I don't think the family tree thing from the novel extras (iirc??) even provided female members of the royal line. Tanaka, I swear.

It'll be forever before we actually get to that point but I'm actually worried about writing Hilmes' (terrible terrible) time in the haunted temple turning into a side quest problem if you know what I mean? An arc/event so divorced from the rest of the plot and world that screeches the pacing to a grinding halt. I mean, the temple tumble is necessary to his character growth, but it really has the potential to become... tedious to read.

For the record, I'm worried about Alfarīd and Ashaya's scenes having this same problem too, since they break off from the rest of the cast to have an adventure together. But at least having them have a plot progression that ties into other plot threads is easier than doing the same with Hilmes because they're not trapped in an isolated location.

Wait, info about the bells can actually be revealed here, and not have the clan remember throughout? Or if they did remember the bells existing then the locations of where the bells had vanished to could be received from the temple.

They'll need to decode it first, though.

Okay, I'm not sure what to do with the Rukhnabad. I was originally gonna have Hilmes not pull it out and cause problems but I... kinda need the damn thing for the plot. Maybe he gets Shooketh™ from whatever he learned in the temple that it compromises his ability to be chill about the looming threat and he yoinks it out of desperation—

(or maybe Ashaya can be the one to take it, as a twist, though what would their reasoning for doing so be?)

SYMBOLISM SYMBOLISM SYMBOLISM

Okay, so, death.

Sherine (Ashaya's original name before they changed it upon joining the clan) is dead. She died when she disappeared into the woods.

The clan has a death-and-rebirth thing going on. Someone joins the clan, they either choose to keep their name or not, but the self they were before they joined is gone, dead to the world, essentially. They could not belong in the living world, hence why they joined the “dead”. Folks who had complicated relationships with the parents who gave them their name, their old families, their old selves, those people typically discard their names (as Ashaya, Kashi, Kazai, etc did) while those who had a positive relationship with their families but lost them in a traumatic way would keep their names (as Farangis and Gieve would). I know I've talked about this before but I can't remember if I put it in a post or in a comment.

Y'know the changeling thing? The died-but-came-back-wrong thing? The same principle, it's not literal, mind you, it's a metaphorical, symbolic thing.

So, a secret royal child goes into or near this place and is reborn as someone else (Ashaya)

Only years later, another secret royal goes into this place, gets trapped in it, and is reborn anew (Hilmes)

Words are not wording rn but you get the idea, right?

Also, mentioned somewhere that the temple holds onto things of the past, aka if you have a belonging on your person that represents something from the past that you cling onto, bye-bye item, you're not getting that back.

Aka, the temple snatched Hilmes' mask because it's a representation of his fixation w the past and everything that's tied to it aka his trauma his identity his sense of self etc etc

Hilmes can't get out bc he built his everything around his past, ergo, his whole person is a figment of the past

Like recognizes like, hence why he's trapped until he's forced to build a new identity that doesn't revolve around his, well, everything

Ashaya probably didn't get trapped bc, well, kid's not fixated to the past they just wanted out (from their shitty family situation)

Bloodstains, screams, inexplicable items vanishing and manifesting, hallucinations/visions that were probably actual memories of the past, Hilmes is not gonna have a fun time

The temple's haunted but in like, an intangible way, so to speak? No literal spooky ghosts floating about, they're fused to the building so the building itself is a haunting, you get what I mean?

Maybe there is one tangible ghost Hilmes can actually see. Maybe two, if I end up keeping the royal lady.

Okay, maybe I won't keep the royal lady.

But something could guide him through this whole ordeal and lead him to whatever truth bombs it wants to reveal.

Could his parentage be revealed here? Unlikely, the temple's hauntedness is it basically reliving the past over and over, not much space for... hm.

Maybe Kaykhusraw's journals could appear inside— no, no, probably too far-fetched.

So many specifics I need to nail down.

[polyamzeal]

My first polyamorous relationship recently came to an end and I'm still reeling from it, I guess I'm wondering if you have any sage wisdom to throw into this whirlwind ?

I started seeing this guy while he was on and off with his life partner of four years, until they broke up for the 'sixth and final time'. We had a talk at this point and clarified that neither of us were looking to fill that primary partner gap for the time being and I was aware he would be healing for a time, but we both stated that we were invested in our relationship, saw it as something good and healthy, and that we wanted to put work in to continue making it as good as possible. Things were really great for almost a month after that and his ex well and truly seemed out of the picture to the both of us.

Then suddenly one day his ex decided she wanted to get back together monogamously (after four years of polyamory) and he immediately informed me that was just - happening.

Our relationship only lasted four months and he loves her and thinks this is the only way to still be able to spend his life with her, and has belief in this choice because she broke off a two year relationship for this, but I feel like this is really terrible. He seemed committed to polyamory as long as I've known him and never mentioned any hopes otherwise, and the decision was made really suddenly. I got incredibly upset with him and cut him out of my life and now I'm in the stage of trying to puzzle over how much of this situation is morally bad on his part and how much is just really unfortunate circumstance? I don't really know how to react to this, just heartbroken and confused! Any words are helpful 😅

First off, that really sucks! I am really sorry you went through that and I hope you have been healing well.

When I first became polyamorous I had this very naive idea in the back of my head that all my future relationships would last forever. I would just keeping adding more partners since nobody had a reason to breakup if cheating and other people wasn't going to break up relationships. Obviously that was foolish! But after those first few polyam breakups I really appreciated the new perspective on breakups I had formed over time. In monogamy, a breakup is almost always seen as a "failure" because the goal was to spend forever together monogamously. For me at least with polyamory it felt easier to see a relationship as "Good for the time when it needed to be and over when it was no longer needed." I became much better at being grateful for the good memories and everything I learned about myself from that relationship without only focusing on the bad of why it didn't work out.

Change is hard. It always is for everyone. But I do feel like with polyamory we are a little more accepting to people and relationships naturally changing over time. That we go through 'eras' in our life and so little in life is actually eternal. I hope you take the good parts of that relationship with you into future relationships and now you are better prepared to handle similar bad aspects of the relationship. I wish you good luck.

[angelsanarchy]

Righteousness of Man: Kappa x Y/N- Mini Series PRT 03

Tagging: @icarus-star @ithinkitstimetonap @kappasbbgirl @chainsawgvtsfvck @luzclarita57 @miniisunshine @romanroyapoligist @madamemaximoff06 @thirtyratsinasuit @ethical-cain-vinnel @blueberrypancakesworld @dumbbitchdelrey @loljustignoreth4t @tvgirlsbluehair @s0ulfulll @mommymilkers0526 @vomiting-blood @ultrakissed @hisemoslut @lustkillers @s-0lar @roryculkinsgf dukesofsp00ks thirtyratsinasuit @starry-eyed-wild-child

Y/n had become a big part of the community in the next few months. People looked to her when Kappa wasn't easily accessible and she was always happy to help. The one thing Kappa noticed more than how well she had acclimated into the family is how she showed them all affection.

He would never admit that he was jealous of how they leaned into her touch when she gave them encouragement or how she would kiss their faces before they all turned in for the night. Kappa would never admit that the idea of her sharing her kisses and touches with anyone other than him made his blood boil in a way it never had with any of the other women he had relations with. He wanted to reserve all of her intimacy for him and him alone.

He approached her as she held the face of Epslon in her hands and tugged on her elbow. She turned to look at him confused slightly before she gave a sweet smile and walked off towards him.

"Why are you hovering today?" Y/n asked making Kappa glance at her unimpressed.

"Why can't you seem to keep your hands to yourself?" Kappa answered her question with a question and she chuckled.

"Didn't you just get blown by one of those little peaches just a few days ago? Am I not allowed the same fluidity as you?" Y/n cocked her eyebrow at Kappa who narrowed his gaze.

"I do not share you." He spoke firmly and Y/n turned her body towards him.

"And you expect me to share you? You expect me to be this kept woman who only recieves intamacy from you whenever and however you want it?" She stepped into his space and he took a deep breath. She smelled sweet, like cherries or strawberries. It was intoxicating.

"I expect you to mother these people. Show them grace and love in a more appropriate way." Kappa's voice almost seemed like he was chastising her. She let out a laugh and gave him a playful shove.

"Is that what you do? Make these girls suck your cock and call you daddy?" She teased but Kappa rolled his eyes.

"Why do you feel the need to buck against everything I say? Is it so hard for you to listen to a simple command? Keep your fucking hands to yourself and there won't be any problems." Kappa said again and Y/n pouted.

"What kind of problems am I causing exactly? Last I checked, you like when I put my hands on you." She ran her hands down his chest and he watched them slither all the way down to his belt.

"Me...I like when you put your hands on me...only me." Kappa put his hands on top of Y/n's and she licked her lips.

"You know what you have to do if you want me to behave. I'm not going to share my body with you and have you whore yourself to everyone in this community." Y/n explained. Kappa didn't like her giving him ultimatums.

"You don't make the rules here sugar. I do. Who I fuck is up to me." Kappa's words made Y/n sigh as she took her hands off of his belt.

"How disappointing." She patted him slightly on the chest before walking back over to the others, spinning one of the girls around as she danced to the music coming from one of the vans. Kappa continued to watch from afar as she moved about the camp. She had completely disregarded what he had said about keeping her hands to herself.

"Would you like a massage Kappa?" One of the girls had approached him as he sat in a chair and he shook his head. She wasn't the only girl he shooed away that day. He continued to reject the advances from the other women until she he saw Y/n enter his trailer. He walked in a few minutes after her and she turned to face him.

"Would you prefer to bring your girls in here tonight or will you be fucking them in their own beds?" Y/n asked, a hint of a challenge in her tone. Kappa clicked the lock on the door behind himself before pressing his body against hers.

"You don't listen to anything I say." He gripped her neck, letting his palm hold her jaw.

"I have a daddy, I don't need another." She replied tilting her head away from his hand. He responded by gripping her jaw tighter.

"I don't want to be your daddy. I want to be yours...and you mine. Only mine....only yours." Kappa had conceded to her. She smiled slyly moving his hand from her jaw down between her legs. She had already gotten rid of her panties and allowed him to dip his fingers into her wet pussy briefly. Kappa pulls his hand back and looks at how wet she already is.

"You want me to be all yours, make me yours then." Kappa dipped his wet fingers into her mouth and she sucked her own juices from his filthy fingertips. Her hands yank his belt open and he pushes his pants just far enough down to free his cock, lifting her onto the counter and letting her guide him into her dripping cunt. They both make noises of pleasure, as this was the first time he had actually fucked her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her hands into his greasy hair.

"That's it. Just like that. Make me yours." She moaned letting her head fall back against the cabinet, banging it roughly a few times as he bucked his cock up inside of her.

"You were made just for me. No one else will ever feel you like this." Kappa bit her breast and she groaned.

"Show the world I am yours Kappa. Show them why they can't touch what's yours." She praised him, running her hands down his back and grabbing his bare ass cheeks to try and shove him further inside of herself.

"I'll kill them. I'll kill them all if they ever touch you." Kappa's thrusts started to become sloppy and Y/n knew he was going to cum soon.

"I'm almost there. Fuck me harder Kappa, please!" She begged but Kappa couldn't hold off any longer as he came inside of her milking his cock inside her walls before removing his spent cock and replacing it with three of his fingers.

"Come on baby, cum on my fingers. You can do it. I want you to cum." Kappa held her gaze, one hand on her throat, the other shoving his cum inside of her pussy and expertly using his thumb to circle her swollen clit. Her moan turned into a scream and he felt a rush of her own release running down his palm. He quickly slipped back inside of her with his semi hard cock and her legs started to shake atop the counter.

"Shhhh shhh it's okay. It's okay. I've got you darlin." Kappa cooed at her as he slowly pushed his cock inside of her to keep both of their cum inside of her, a squelching noise vulgarly filling the silence of them trying to catch their breaths.

"Say you're mine." Kappa rested his forehead against Y/n's, feeling her breath against his face.

"You say you're mine first." She demanded making him chuckle.

"I am yours, only yours." He bumped his forehead against her own. She was hardheaded but he liked that about her. She opened her eyes and kissed his lips softly. It was a sweet gesture that they had skipped right over in the beginning of things but now felt so loving.

"And I am yours, only yours."