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#the band ghost fan fiction
iamthecomet · 6 months
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comet oh my god going off of that last free use phantom thing... if inspiration strikes I would love LOVE to see some of phantom laying back and being totally taken care of by the whole pack, them all surrounding him, hands and tails everywhere until he cant tell who is doing what anymore and is just totally relaxed
UH HUH.
Service sub Aeon deserves to be taken care of.
Aeon's drifting. Mis-matched eyes open. Unfocused. The exposed ceiling beams swimming in front of him. Hazy figures dipping in and out of his periphery. A flash of golden hair, deep purple eyes, opalescent horns.
He's narrowed down to sensation. To touch. All other senses on the back burner. He isn't even sure who is touching him where. Whose tail is curled around his thigh holding him open and exposed. Whose tongue is pressed against his fluttering hole. Licking up over the seam of his balls. Over the base of his cock. And back down to press into his stretched rim.
He's soft now. Over sensitive. He's belly sticky with his own cum. His cock twitches though, valiantly. He'll be hard again in no time. Part of him wants to push away--he's had so much. He's so fucked out. The other part is desperate for it. Wants more. Wants to be swallowed whole.
He thinks he's in Cumulus' lap. Head resting on the swell of her breasts. He thinks her hands are the ones dragging over his nipples. But maybe that's Aurora. Maybe it's both of them. There is a tail curled around each of his biceps. Gentle. Not restraining. Just solid enough to keep him from trying to do too much. He thinks one of them might be Mountain's, but really it's just a guess.
Satanas, he doesn't know anything anymore.
Someone kisses him. Rain, judging by the taste. Tongue slipping into his mouth, cool and easy. Aeon opens for him, drinks him down like he's dying of thirst and Rain trills above him. Pressing one cool hand against his cheek as Aeon surges toward him, reaches up, begs for more.
"Easy, baby," Cirrus coos in his ear--over to his left. "Just lay back."
Aeon eases back, drops his head back into the hollow of Cumulus' throat. Someone drags a hand down his stomach, circles his cock into a calloused palm and he jolts.
Whining. Body begging him to lean into it--to pull away. Each stroke is electric. Too much. Pleasure zapping through his veins and he can't take it. He can't think about anything else. Hips bucking up into the hand as he fills out, hardens up.
Someone, Swiss, he thinks, whistles like he's impressed. "Still going, huh?"
Aeon nods, eager. He slams his eyes shut as another pair of hands widens his thighs. The tongue that's been fucking into him slips out, moves away. Aeon whines at the loss--but it's shortlived. Replaced by the fat head of a cock that he's pretty sure is Aether. Too fat to be anyone else's.
"You ready, baby?" Aether for sure. Reaching up to brush hair out of Aeon's eyes. "You've done so good for us today. Let me take care of you?"
Aeon cracks his eyes open. Finally forces them to focus on Aether looming between his legs. Cheeks flushed, eyes focused on Aeon.
Aeon swallows, tries to find words. "Y-yeah. Yes please."
After a day of doing everything that was asked of him--asking for something feels wrong. Like he's stepped out of line. But the collar he wore all day is long gone, and Aether just pushes in inch by slow inch. Watching Aeon's face for the first sign that he's had too much.
He has had too much, he thinks. He's had all of them at least once. He's been pinned between nine other bodies for what feels like hours. When Aether pushes in, there's no stretch, no burn. Thoroughly used. Aether groans low, a rumble that Aeon swears he feels in his bones.
"Still so fucking tight."
"Right?" Dew says from somewhere on Aeon's right. "Don't know how he does it."
"Magic," Sunshine offers from his other side. Whatever Dew says next is cut off by another groan from Aether as he fucks into Aeon. Giving in to hard deep thrusts that Aeon feels in his throat.
"Can't help it," Aether says, almost apologetic. "Too fucking good."
"Give it to me," Aeon begs, voice canting up with each word. "I can take it. Please, Aeth."
Aether smiles down at him. He pushes down, deepens the fold of Aeon's body until he's almost in half. Dislodging whoever's hand (Mountains?) was on his cock. It doesn't matter anyway--he'll cum like this. They all know it.
The next thrust makes Aeon wail.
Aether kisses him on the forehead, soft and sweet in contrast to the way he's railing him.
"Don't worry, baby. I know you can."
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atmosghoul · 7 months
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plsplsplspls share thoughts
OK I LITERALLY POSTPONED GOING TO THE BAR TO WRITE THIS SO AS PROMISED: NSFW BELOW THE CUT also everyone thank @jimothybarnes for receiving my random horny ghoul thoughts at all hours and encouraging this
Some Swiss/Phantom/Mountain for the soul
Forced intoxication(it’s consensual phantoms really into it), tied hands, use of Daddy, cockwarming
MDNI etc
Phantom gags and chokes around the cock in his mouth. His mind is fuzzy and his body feels like jelly but the way his throat constricts involuntarily around the thick cock is proof enough to the multi ghoul that he’s not where Swiss wants him.
They’d been like this for what felt like hours. Phantom straddling Mountain keeping his cock warm with his hands tied behind his back while Swiss used his mouth to bring himself to the edge over and over and over again.
Swiss slips his cock out of the Quint ghoul’s mouth and the little bug gasps heaving breaths as drool spills from his lips in rivulets.
“Seems like someone needs a little more huh?” Swiss says with a mischievous grin.
Phantom gazes up at Swiss like he hung the moon. Staring with a half lidded glazed over look as Swiss brings the half smoked joint to his lips and orders him to suck.
“That’s it baby boy suck it down for me and hold it in.”
Swiss pulls the joint away taking a hit for himself and watching Phantom struggle to hold his breath before descending into a coughing fit.
Mountain groans under phantom tightening his grip the smaller ghouls hips giving a gentle push and pull warning a frankly pathetic sound from him.
“Fuck Swiss he’s so tight already. If you keep making him cough and clench like that I’m gonna cum too soon,” Mountain says slowly grinding into Phantom.
Swiss apologises with a chuckle as he grabs the red solo cup from the nearby dresser and takes a swig of the jack and coke he’d poured.
“You want a drink lil bug?” He asks running his fingers through Phantoms shaggy hair and watching the white tendril fall back in front of his face as the smaller ghoul nods emphatically.
“Alright open up for me, lovebug.”
Swiss gently grips Phantom’s jaw with one hand and brings the cup to his lips and holds eye contact while tipping the dark liquid into his mouth and Phantom gulps it down greedily.
He already feels the weed taking effect and the alcohol makes the fuzziness all the more intense. He visibly relaxes more and breathing is coming easier. Mount grinds into him again cock and he whimpers and thinks he might explode if Swiss doesn’t let him cum soon.
“Good boy,” Swiss says as he reaches over and sets the cup back on the night stand keeping his grip on Phantom’s jaw. “Need you nice and relaxed to take Mounty’s big cock. You wanna be good and let him fuck you hard right?” He leans down moving his face mere inches from Phantom’s.
“Doesn’t the big guy deserve to let loose?” He asks before moving phantom’s head up and down in a forced nod.
“Yeeaahh that’s right baby boy. But first,” Swiss stands back up and takes hold of his cock stroking it a few times.
“You ready for more of Daddy’s cock?” He asks slapping it softly against Phantoms cheeks wet with drool and tears from how much he’s been gagging.
Phantom doesn’t get the chance to answer before Swiss shoves his cock in all the way to the back of his throat and starts a brutal pace immediately.
The noises Swiss makes will be ingrained in his mind forever.
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rrriver · 1 year
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Transfem boot/piss fic
Transfem Rain with a girl dick because i can and i did. for @everybodyshusband and @royalchachi for fueling this absolute blasphemy.
enjoy.
Cock and dick used in reference to Rains anatomy
Rain had no idea what was going on with her today. It wasn't time for her heat, that wouldn't be for several weeks. It wasn't a rut, those were more intense. But she's been hard and leaky all day. She rushed through her chores, missing small details that no one would notice, but she'd go back when she wasnt so desperate. Her feet took her to the ghouls wing and before she realized where they led her, she was standing in front of Swiss’ door. He opened on the first knock, he always did. His long locks were wrapped in a haphazard bun, his chest bare. He was wearing his uniform bottoms and boots. Before Rain could question it too much, she launched herself into the ghouls arms, locking him in a desperate sloppy kiss. The world seemed to stop around them. Nothing else mattered in that moment, nothing but the heave of her little chest pressed against Swiss, nothing but the warmth of his mouth as she hungrily licked into it. He always tasted like weed and the fruity vapes he insisted on using. It was a taste that made Rain weak in the knees and begging for more. A taste she never seemed to get tired of.
“Woah woah woah, Rainbow, give me a second.” He pulled back to catch his breath and get a good look at the mess of a ghoul in front of him. Rain's hair was a mess, tendrils sticking to her forehead where sweat collected on her temples. The dress she had put on was creased, hanging off one shoulder to reveal pale blue skin dotted with little iridescent white spots. Her pupils were blown against the oceanic blue, almost blending with the obsidian sclera of her eyes. 
Rain let out a long, reedy whine.
“I know I know, just let me take my shoes off!” He huffed out a laugh as he rubbed his thumb over her cheek.
Looking down at the boots in question, a mischievous smile danced across Rain's pretty features. “Leave them on.” She whispered, pushing against his chest as she kicked the door closed and flicked the lock. Swiss sputtered at the words, a spark of hot arousal quickly darting straight to his stomach.
“Wh-what?” His breath hitched, lodging itself in his throat as Rain dropped to her knees in front of him. Her delicate hands rested in her lap as she looked up at him through long, dark lashes.
They had played like this before, only a handful of times all burned into their memories. Swiss knew what the pretty water ghoul was asking for, but it still made his stomach flip and his chest swell. 
Rain suddenly understood the unyielding pool of need that had been overwhelming her. She wanted to be used, taken apart, ruined in a way she could only trust Swiss with. She knew his delicate hands were capable of dismantling her, and then putting her back together again.
“Swiss, please, ruin me.” Her voice was broken and breathy with want, with need.
He nodded, carding his fingers through her delicate curls. 
He whispered his agreement, telling her that if it was too much, tell him and he'd stop. Though he knew she'd never, he still had to make it known. He took a second to drink her in.
Rain was beautiful. Her slender body was littered with glowing spots, fins trailing her forearms and running along her calves. Her boobs were the perfect size, like they were made for swiss to hold and grab. Her hips swelled beautifully, melting into her thighs. She had gills running along her neck and ribs. He knew from past endeavors that the ones on her rib cage were beautifully sensitive. He could sit here and marvel over his little siren all day, all night. He could spend the rest of his life looking at her, picking her apart like she was his last meal. 
He was ripped from his thoughts as Rain whined up at him.
“You're just so beautiful, Rainy.” The words forced a dark blush to bloom across her cheekbones, traveling down her neck and across her collar bone. He caught her chin between his fingers before she could hide her face.
“Nuh-uh, you look at me, or we stop. I want to see your face while I undo you." Rain groaned in anticipation, suddenly too aware of the ache in her stomach. She hung hot and heavy between her thighs, leaking pre all over the dark wooden floors. She didn't need to see under her dress to know she was making a mess. A voice whispered in her mind, he’ll make you clean that later. She pushed it away and turned her focus to the large ghoul in front of her. 
“Pull your skirt up for me princess.” His voice was husky, laced with burning desire. His chest ached with the need to please his partner. The need to make her reel with pleasure teetering on the edge of pain. He knew that's what she wanted. She was ever the masochist, and he would always jump at the opportunity to deliver. He couldn't figure out why, but something about Rain wouldn't let him say no. Rain knew it too. She was acutely aware that Swiss would do whatever she asked of him without question, without argument. 
With shaky hands, she curled her fingers under the thin fabric and pulled it up to her chest, chirping when Swiss grabbed it from her.
“Open.” Her mouth lolled open on its own accord, drool already pooling under her tongue and threatening to spill out the sides. He tucked the cotton between her teeth, pushing her jaw closed with a satisfied hum. He smiled at the wet spot leaking into her barely there, lacy panties. They clung to her hips in a mouth-watering way. The pale pink fabric left nothing to the imagination as it became transparent with the moisture. He tuts, looking at how her slick was seeping through and pooling on the ground between her thighs.
“Oh sweetheart, you're making such a mess for me. So wet and pretty on your knees like this, aren't you?”  Rain whined as a fresh bead of pre pearled through her underwear. She nodded her head frantically at him. She wanted to be pretty, all for him. 
Swiss chuckled as he lifted his leg, bringing it down and stopping just before he made contact.
“Beg for it.” He knew his request was mean, but that's what she wanted, and he’d be damned if he didn't give her what she wished for.
“Please please please please, Swiss I need it…” Her garbled words were cut off with a loud moan as Swiss pressed the steel toe of his boot against the achy tip of Rains cock. Her voice echoed through the room, loud and, for lack of better words, angelic. She was a siren, and Swiss would let himself be pulled into his doom anyday for his water ghoul.
Rains hips jerked against her will, rutting up into the harsh grooves of Swiss’ shoe, eliciting another breathy cry. Her hands darted out to claw at the skin on her trembling thighs as she whispered a string of sorries. She knew she wasn't allowed to take more than she was given.
Swiss ran his thumb over her lips, smearing drool that had escaped down her chin across her cheek. “Eager today, huh?”
Rain pressed herself into the gentle touch as she let her eyes flutter close. Swiss put a little more pressure, all but foaming at the mouth for the sound it forced out of Rains mouth. The fabric between her teeth was now soaked through with spit as she chewed on it. He couldn't tell but he thought he could see the sparkle of tears swimming under Rains scrunched eyelids. 
“Take what you need.” Rain snapped his eyes open, a silent question hanging in the small space between them.
“Go ahead. Its okay.” That was all the encouragement she needed before her hips moved against her own will. She whined at the friction, setting a slow and even pace. Swiss could see now that her eyes were open that yes, her eyes were brimming with tears. He groaned at the sight, his own cock filling out his pants at an almost painful quickness. He let his free hand roam over her body, his fingers brushing over a plump, pebbled nipple. He caught the bundle of nerves between his fingers and rolled it through the dress. Rain squealed at the added pleasure, her release creeping dangerously close. 
A couple thrusts of her hips later and her movements suddenly stopped, her eyes wide when Swiss looks at her in question.
“What's wrong?” He could see the panic in Rains face as she sputtered, spitting the dress out of her mouth.
“I-i need to pee.” Her voice came out in a broken whisper as she tried to pull away. Swiss tightened his fingers on her jaw, caught off guard by the pang her words sent through his gut.
“It's okay. Let go, right here. Make a mess for me.”
She wailed as she shook her head. 
“N-no….i can’t.”
Swiss smiled, gentle and reassuring. He didn't know why he wanted this. He couldn't understand where it came from. Usually he only had these kinds of requests when he was stoned out of his mind, but he was painfully sober right now. This was a conversation he'd have with later swiss, but right now his painfully tight pants demanded his full attention.
“Color.”
“Green.”
“The truth?” He knew Rain would do anything she could to get out of disappointing him and no matter how many times he reiterated he wouldn't be, he couldn't be. He had told her time and time again that he'd never be upset at Rain feeling uncomfortable and needing to stop. He was mean, yes. But that was just a brand of cruelty he couldn't force himself into.
“Green, I promise.” She brought her hand up to wrap around the multi ghouls wrist, nuzzling her cheek into his hand as he looked her over.
“If you want me to stop, you gotta tell me okay?”
“I will, I swear.”
He nodded, hearing a confidence in her voice that eased his anxiety. He pushed the toe of his boot into the fleshy skin of her stomach, pressing into where he knew her bladder rested underneath. She keened with it, her shoulders rolling forward as her cock kicked where it was trapped. She moaned at the pressure, the muscles in her torso clenching as her body fought to hold it in. Her hips started moving again, rutting in frantic, jerky movements against Swiss’ foot. He watched in awe, mouth hanging open. The tears were now spilling in large, heavy drops down her flushed cheeks, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.
With a particularly loud wine, she tipped forward, her hands reaching for Swiss’ legs. Her nails pierced into his thighs and he hissed, knowing he'd have to take them to Copia to have them fixed. It would be worth it though. 
He watched as the wet spot on Rains panties grew, the warm wetness dripping over her stomach and landing on the floor. She shook as her orgasm ripped through her body, stars dotting her vision as she shook with the force. As he watched the way her body seized, the way her hips jerked forward, the sound of her voice floating around the room, Swiss came. Completely untouched and harsh. 
He stood there for a minute, dumbfounded by his own body, before he bent down and scooped Rain into his arms and carried her to the bathroom to clean her up. He pressed kisses into her temple through whispers.
“You did so good, Rainbow. So good. Are you okay?’’
Rain purred against his neck, nodding heavily against his warm skin.
“Good, let's get you bathed, yeah?”
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amara-among-the-stars · 9 months
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You know what ya'll
What if i just start writing crack fics.
The utmost outlandish shit ever.
Ima do it.
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vampghoulette · 1 year
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Chapter 6 of Forgive Me is HERE on Ao3.
Swiss finds Copia in no condition to have a chat.
TW: Vomiting/Sick character
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zombiequeenblog · 27 days
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Having courage to ask about Sadglo. I wonder about Secondo and Copia. Copia confides in Secondo it seems. I wonder to what extent and how their relationship is.
When I started writing Sadglo, I didn't necessarily want to focus on these satanic clergymen being absolutely blood-related. The whitened eye does speak to genetics but I don't really address it in the stories. Regardless of Secondo and Copia being half-brothers (and regardless of them being fully aware of it, if true) I think in the confines of the abbey they certainly respect each other. Copia looks up to Secondo as someone more in control of their passions, Secondo is a steady rock and a wellspring of sage advice. He is much needed and admired, if a bit off-putting sometimes! I mean, Copia can be similarly unpleasant lol.
Secondo doesn't often eat and such with the others, he shares a table with his current paramour and is more comfortable keeping himself at a distance from idle chatter. Even so, I think Copia has sought him out, employing Secondo as a sounding board for his troubled thoughts regarding his attractions to sadism and Mouse, how he may keep himself sane and his dearest love safe.
Secondo is haunted as well, I think, though I've yet to explore that fully. He is a wonderful character to work with, a contrast to playful Terzo and an important part of this little world. A stoic comfort to Mouse and Copia both. I'm so glad you are enjoying him as well!
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her-satanic-wiles · 6 months
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October 3rd
Hate Sex, Papa Emeritus II x Catholic!Reader
Masterlist
Words: 3.4k
Warnings: Hate sex; mean dom!Secondo; virgin!Reader; catholic!Reader (for now); degradation; piv; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it); semi-public sex; corruption kink; cunnilingus; multiple orgasms; dubcon; choking; breeding kink?; cum eating (because I’m a slut for it okay? I’ll see you in the goddamn parking lot); vaginal sex; loss of virginity;
🔞 MDNI 🔞
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Your father becoming the Pope was not something you anticipated, but it was definitely a dream of his. As his daughter, you had your own responsibilities to the church that you had to maintain, as well as making sure your father’s reputation and standing in the Catholic church remained good and respectable.
You had made it your mission to save as many souls as possible, but only one you had given up on. He was the second son of a man named Nihil Emeritus - a lowly man who called himself Papa and claimed to be the anti-Pope for the Satanic Church. The leader of the opposition. His second son, known simply as Secondo, was cardinal to his father, and was a real piece of work.
You had, in previous years, tried to show him the way of the light, the way of the Lord. But he would always counter you with ridiculous quips and notions about Him that made your blood boil. How can one person be so blind to the rulers that oppress them as much as Satan did? How can they follow a beast so blindly and stray so far from all that was pure?
Constant talks between Satanic and Catholic churches would happen to set specific boundaries both physical and spiritual, but once a year, the Vatican and the Ministry would meet to set an example to followers on both sides - though everyone hated these meetings and wanted them to end, it was important for your church to be seen at the very least converting the dark ones with kindness and love that our Lord had shown you and taught you to be.
This year, for the first time in a hundred years, the Ministry were to host the talks and you were nervous to say the least. You were uncomfortable entering such a sinful building, filled with demons and lost souls, covered in pentagrams and statues of the Devil. As you walked through the white marble halls, you clutched onto your crucifix necklace and prayed quietly for the Lord to keep you safe.
Outside, they had a press conference and photo opportunity. Your father and the blasphemous Nihil had their pictures taken together, shaking hands and pretending to engage in important conversations for the sake of the press, before the rest of the churches were invited to take photos together like a NATO Summit. He was placed next to you.
His ungodly mismatched eyes hidden underneath layers of thick, black paint making him look like a bald panda. Not a single hair underneath his zucchetto, instead the only hair on his head coming from his eyebrows and his moustache. It would be unseemly to compare his aesthetic to a certain kind of video, but he definitely looked like he came straight out of it. You were both in our twenties but his choice of appearance made him look so much older than you. Yet there he was, confidently standing in a respected Cardinal’s uniform, soiling it with a grucifix and a perverted smile.
For the photograph, he put his arm around you, and rested his large, leather gloved hand on your bicep. Though your face was smiling like you were happy to be there, your insides were crawling with disgust. You shoved him off you as soon as the cameras had switched off. “Get your filthy hands off me, you creep!”
“Only for the photo, dipshit. Believe me, looking at you makes my dick soft.”
“Must you always be so vulgar?”
“Must you always be a prude?”
“You know, you are such a-”
“Children,” You heard your father’s voice and immediately silenced yourself, “come.”
“Yes, father.” As you walked towards your father, you brushed passed Secondo’s shoulder hard and held your head up high, preserving what remained of your dignity. You knew your father would force you into penance later for your emotional outburst.
The day was seemingly endless, and you often found your mind drifting away with itself thinking of other things. At first, your mind went to lunch - what would those hellish kitchens serve you? No doubt ground up fetus spaghetti. But when your eyes met Cardinal Secondo’s, your thoughts drifted to him instead. If he wasn’t so brutish, he would be attractive. If he was Catholic he would be attractive. But he was Satanic, an abomination. He needed saving.
Finally, you were granted a break and ran to the restroom as quickly as you could. Coming out, however, you ran into Secondo again.
“Oh, look! It’s the little snob.” He said, his face as stoic as usual. “Probably pissed out the holy water she drinks.”
“Go stick your face in it, see how it feels to burn.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you were into that.”
“You should repent. Beg the Lord for forgiveness. Turn to the light.”
“I’m much happier under the watchful eye of the fallen archangel, thanks.”
“You’ll burn in Hell.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Filthy sinners deserve to rot there. You and your family will suffer if you don’t-”
He moved towards you and grabbed your chin with his index finger and thumb, his eyes filled with anger and hate. You felt your heart rate spike in fear, yes, but there was also something else you couldn’t identify. “Listen to me, you stupid little sheep. I couldn’t give a fuck about your Lord, your God or the idiots who follow you. I don’t care about that fucking book you live and breathe by and I don’t care about you. You dare to come into my house and dictate what I do? I’ll do what I please, and worship who I please. Maybe you should repent, Sathanas would appreciate how you looked on your knees.”
“Get off me!” You shoved him as hard as you could and freed yourself from his touch. “You vile, filthy pig!” You hit his shoulder. “You sinful, disgusting cockroach! I would never get on my knees for evil bastards like you or your deranged goat god!”
“But you would get on your knees. Unless of course, you’re a virgin.”
You hit him again.
He gasped. “You are!” He laughed. “Saving yourself for marriage, huh? Keeping yourself pure and holy for a god that would kill you with no thoughts of regret.” He grasped onto your chin again. “I could save you, you know? Show you a better way of living. Worshiping a god who worships you back, and sends you the greatest pleasures you’ve ever known.” As he spoke, his face got closer and closer to yours until he was a single inch away from you. You could feel his breath on your face, smell the coffee from his break just moments ago. “Tell me to stop, little lamb, and I will.”
You should have. You don’t know why you didn’t. Maybe there was a part of you that hated how controlled you were by your father. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to be tempted by a servant of sin. You weren’t sure about the reason, but you knew that when his lips touched yours and he pulled you in for the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had, or the only kiss you’d ever had, you were tasting a glimpse of the pleasure he offered you. His tongue immediately sought entry to your mouth, and you granted the permission, letting him take the lead and teach you what to do. It felt so good. You had to stop. This was wrong.
You pushed him off you one final time and slapped his face. No words were spoken, there wasn’t anything to say. He didn’t look offended by your slap, nor did he look put off by it. He still looked at you with the same lustful expression he had moments ago. And you couldn’t stop yourself.
Your hands gripped his cassock and pulled him back in for another kiss, this one more violent and desperate than it was before. It was messy, all teeth and tongues and no finesse to it whatsoever. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to his body, before gripping onto your ass. The feel of his covered hands clutching onto you sent a thrill through your frame you’d never felt before. Before you knew it, a moan had escaped from your lips and caught up onto his, which made him smile.
The sound of people approaching made you both pull away from each other. You began to panic. You were sure you looked disheveled enough from the kiss alone, and the Cardinal’s cheek was beginning to redden where you slapped it. In a panic, you grabbed hold of his hand and ran into the first unlocked door you could find, keeping the lights off and shutting yourselves in as quietly as you can. Secondo was chuckling at you, but you simply held a hand over his mouth and kept as quiet as you possibly could. You couldn’t be seen being intimate with a member of the Satanic church! It would ruin everything. When the people left, you sighed in relief.
You had unknowingly pulled both of you into an office of some kind, but you didn’t know whose office it was, or if they’d even be back. It was in the silence of the room that you realised what you’d just done. And how close you were to Secondo. Before more doubts could sneak back in, your lips found each other’s again. You don’t know who started it, but now that you had, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. His zucchetto was the first thing to hit the floor, followed by your own hat and your heels.
Secondo’s mouth travelled to your neck and began placing open mouthed kisses there, driving you mad with want. You couldn’t think of anything else other than him. You loathed him, he was evil. But he felt so good.
He backed you up against the desk in the room and continued to kiss your neck, his hands roaming all over your body. His were the first to touch you in so many places: your shoulders, your arms, your waist, your stomach, your breasts and now your thighs.
Your legs opened for him automatically so he could slot comfortably between them. Your sun dress hiked up over your thighs, giving him perfect access to your panties which were now drenched in your arousal. It wasn’t long before his hands made their way under your skirts and stroking over your vulva. He barely pulled away from your neck to utter his words, “the good Catholic girl, soaking wet for the Devil’s son. Do you think your god is watching, little lamb? Hm?” His fingers moved your panties aside. “Do you think he’s disappointed in you giving into temptation?”
“Yes.”
He stood up straight, his forehead touching yours as his finger rolled over your clit. You released a strangled noise at the new sensation, and your hips bucked. “You’ve been a good girl up until now, haven’t you? Keeping yourself pure for your god. My god sent me to you,” he pushed one finger inside your wet heat tapping upwards immediately, “I am His gift to you. Tell me, little lamb, will you accept His gift, even just for today? Will you let the one you hate the most defile you?”
“Yes!”
He kissed your lips again as his fingers hooked into your pure white panties and pulled them off you. He got onto his knees and directed your legs to rest onto his shoulders. You couldn’t help it. “I hate you so fucking much - ah!”
He silenced you by wrapping his lips around your clitoris and sucking hard, not giving you any chance to ease into this. You could feel him smirk into your cunt as he lapped up your juices, shaking his head and licking away until he was convinced you were seeing stars.
Your hands flew to his head, holding onto him as if you were about to float away. The pleasure was so overwhelming, and nothing like anything you’d ever felt before. Sexual pleasure of all types was a sin - and you had never indulged at all. You were too scared to. You were an adult, so sheltered about adult things you knew nothing of what your body could do. But now here you were, legs spread with the son of the anti-pope licking up your arousal like he was eating his first meal in days.
That same son was now inserting a finger inside of you again, tapping up and making you cry out. Your noises were uncontrollable and loud, but there was nothing you could do about it. Silence didn’t feel like an option. You needed to make noise and you couldn’t explain why. You gasped when he added a second finger. Your hips moved on their own accord and you bucked into the pleasure, simultaneously wanting to escape it but also get as close to it as physically possible.
“W-wait!” You said. Your words were slurred and your voice full of panic. “S-something’s happening. You - mmm - you have t-to stop please!”
He ignored you entirely, refusing to stop his ministrations no matter how much you squirmed. “Stop, y-you sack of sh-shit. Oh my God!” His other hand, somehow so powerful, stopped your hips from wriggling away and pinned you to the desk. You were helpless when you toppled over the edge, seeing black as you came for the first time. Secondo worked you until you were overstimulated and collapsed back onto the cold wood of the desk. Your body covered in sweat and your breathing laboured. Your head was spinning from the intensity and you could barely move.
Secondo stood, his hand on his crotch moving his cassock out the way to free himself. His cock was big, or to you it was anyway, girthy and as long as his hand. He gripped your hips and pulled you towards the edge, making sure you were easy access for him. He lined his cock up to your vulva once more, but instead of pushing inside he rubbed himself against your folds, groaning at the feel. “This is your last chance,” he told you, “tell me to leave and I will. If you don’t, I will sodomise this virgin cunt of yours.”
The feel of his cock against your folds was torturous. Your hole was clenching around nothing, screaming for him to enter you and have his way with you. There was a small voice in your head telling you to run, leave now while you still could. Your whimpers and the sound of your wetness was now the only noise in the room.
“What do you want, little lamb? Do you want me to stop?”
“No!”
He stopped his ministrations and placed the head of his cock at your entrance and pushed in the smallest amount, not enough to completely penetrate you, but enough to drive you insane. “Tell me what you want.”
“F-fuck me.” The request tasted weird but you meant it.
Secondo nodded. He grabbed hold of your hand and held it. “Look at me.” He told you.
For a second, you looked vulnerable and it made his dick throb. You sat up and placed your hand on his chest, nervously pushing him away with no force. “Will it hurt?” You had always been told that it would hurt, and now you were scared you’d be in pain.
His own tough facade dissipated briefly, and the hand that wasn’t gripped in yours went to cup your face. “No.” He said gently. “You are wet enough and my fingers stretched you. But if it hurts too much you must tell me.”
You nodded.
With you now concentrating on him, he began to push into you. His thick cock spread your walls a little further than his fingers did, and the pressure was a lot. Both of your hands moved up to his neck, grasping onto him, as your eyebrows worried and your mouth fell open. Every time you thought he would stop he just kept going.
“You good?”
Your body was on fire. There were too many things to feel. “Yes. Oh God!”
The toughness returned to his demeanour and there was a dark glint in his eye. “Your god can’t help you now, little lamb.”
Before you had the chance to process his words, he pulled out of you and then slammed all the way back in, causing you to scream It felt Earth-shatteringly good to have him inside you. He did it again. And again. “You sadistic bastard!” You exclaimed in between moans.
He laughed but said nothing, instead concentrating his gaze on where your bodies met. Every rough thrust sent you a little further across the desk, and your back couldn’t remain upright. You allowed yourself to lie back down again, your body jiggling violently with every movement. You had to bite your finger to keep you from screaming again.
“Look at you,” Secondo began, “lying there with your - fuck - your legs spread like a c-common whore.” You tightened. “The whore likes being reminded of who she is, hm?”
His hips moved faster and faster as he got more into his head, watching your tits bounce as he defiled you.
“What’s the matter, little lamb? Devil steal that tongue? Mm, shit. No smart remark? Wh-where’s that snobby cunt who keeps telling me to repent now?” He pulled out of you and manhandled you off the desk, spinning you around and bending you over it slightly. He slammed into you once more. His hand wrapped around your throat. “Oh, that’s right, she’s booking herself a one way ticket to Hell.”
“Fuck you!” You hissed.
“Giving yourself willingly to the son of Satan. Oh, how the righteous fall from grace.”
His other hand ran seductively down your body, and as his teeth began to bite your ear, his finger stroked your clit in circles. His breath in your ear, his hand on your clit, his cock in your cunt, it was all too much. You were surrounded by him, breathing him. He was everywhere and difficult to escape. But you didn’t want to escape. This was the most free you’d ever felt, the best you’d ever felt. You came around his cock this time, tugging at his cassock and gasping for air, collapsing back onto the table.
In your mind, you saw the crucifix within your private quarters at the Vatican - the very same one that was gifted to you by the previous pope. You could see Jesus as if he were right in front of you. The look of disappointment present on his face as he watched you give into temptation and gift your most sacred gift to the Devil. The disappointment didn’t make you feel guilty for once in your life.
With that thought in your mind and the fog cleared, you began taking control, meeting Secondo’s thrusts with as much passion as he was giving which stole a guttural moan from him. “Oh, fuck, just like that. Let me fuck this tight, virgin cunt. Take my cock, you fucking whore.” Both of his hands grasped your hips with such tightness, you thought he would bruise you. “You’re gonna make me cum. Is that what you want, little lamb? Shit! You want me to cum deep in this cunt? Knock you up with the fucking Antichrist, hm?”
No. It was too risky. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Cum inside me. Give me your filth!” You heard yourself say.
With a growl, Secondo stilled and emptied himself into you, letting his own body fall forward and pin you down to the desk. You had no choice now, you were forced to take all his cum whether you wanted it or not. How would you beg for forgiveness now that the Devil’s seed was spilling into your willing womb?
Despite his exhaustion, Secondo dropped to his knees again and ran his tongue through your folds, collecting his cum from your pussy and working you towards your third and final orgasm. This was bordering on pain, but it felt so good. Your knuckles turned white from how hard you gripped the desk. Turning to look behind you, you saw him practically worshiping your cunt, and that alone was enough to tip you back over the edge.
When all had finished, and you were both redressing in silence, you realised the implications of what had just happened. You had committed the ultimate sin… and you didn’t want to go back…
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Previous Day ⛧ Next Day ⛧ Part 2
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Flowers (Phantom x GN! Reader) FLUFF
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WARNINGS: Recreational smoking 🌿, doesn't go into detail, all fluff, Primo being a dad, Phantom being sweet, cute, and nice. Just a good old innocent mutual crush. Not proofread, sorry if there's any mistakes with keeping it GN, please feel free to let me know if I missed anything so I can correct it!
My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!
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"Good morning Papa." You greet Primo with a smile, carefully setting down the cup of tea you had brought him on his work bench.
"Good morning il mio Bambino." He responds softly, completely engrossed in his task of pruning one of his many bonsai trees. "When you get a moment my dear would you be able to do me a small favor?" You breathed out an amused sigh. You had been Primo's assistant for a while, enjoying the slow pace of working with the eldest Emeritus brother.
"Papa, you don't need to ask." You giggle, bringing a smile to the older man's face. "Anything you need I'll take care of, don't worry."
"You truly are too good to me." He shoots you a wink causing you to playfully roll your eyes. "There's some produce that needs harvesting in the greenhouse. I was hoping I could have your assistance collecting it all."
"Of course. Let me just make sure I don't have any paperwork to file first." You give his shoulder a gentle squeeze as you pass, leaving him to finish his pruning. You fell into the chair at your desk with a sigh, flipping your letter opener around in your hand to sort through the daily mail. You paused as something caught your eye. A single sunflower sat at the edge of your desk. You picked it up curiously, a smile finding its way to your lips as you spun the stem between your fingers. "Thank you for the flower Papa!" You call into his office. You hear the scraping of his chair against the wooden floor, Primo emerging in the doorway moments later.
You glance over your shoulder as you hear him chuckle. "That flower isn't from me, my dear." He raised an eyebrow at you. "Perhaps you've caught the attention of someone special, hm?" You couldn't stop the blush from spreading across your cheeks as you giggled.
"I doubt that," you state with a wistful tone as you continue to admire the flower in your hand, "I'm pretty plain compared to a lot of the other Siblings. This was probably supposed to be a gift for you if anything."
"I'd like you to keep it regardless." He gently pats the top of your head. "And you are not plain. You have a smile that could light up any room, a laugh so melodic it would rival Cirrus' piano. You're a kind, beautiful soul inside and out. Not to mention your Papa's favorite." He teases with a wink.
"Thank you Papa." He holds out his arm for you to take.
"Come il mio bambino, we have a lot of work to do." You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow, allowing him to prattle on about whatever came to his mind as you made your way to the greenhouse together. No matter the task, working with Primo always managed to put a smile on your face. Over your time as his assistant you had grown quite close to him, Primo had become somewhat of a father figure in your life. The two of you would sit and chat about everything while you worked; filling each other in on the gossip you heard around the Abbey, Primo telling you stories of when he was in his prime, both of you unwinding with a nice cup of tea at the end of the day in his cozy office. Today was no different. You were both droning on about how, somehow, Sister Imperator had been even more stern than usual lately.
"Maybe you should offer her a joint, it might help her stop being so uptight all the time." Primo chuckles at your statement.
"You might be right, I heard she used to be quite the stoner in her day." You both paused at the sound of the greenhouse door slowly creaking open. Primo began to stand, you motioned for him not to trouble himself.
"I'll go see who it is Papa, it's probably just one of the Siblings from the kitchen." You rise with a groan, meticulously pulling off your work gloves before stuffing them into your pocket. As you approached the entrance you were met with the sight of a Ghoul curiously looking over the plants. He froze the moment he picked up on your presence, like a child getting caught doing something they weren't supposed to be. His shoulders relaxed as he realized it was you who emerged from the greenery and not the eldest Emeritus. "Phantom?"
"Hey." He returns your greeting with a sharp smile, fangs glinting in the bright afternoon sun that glimmered through the glass roof. "I was sent to ask Primo about some of his tea." He nervously shifts his weight between his feet.
"Oh, he's right back here actually." You motioned for him to follow you. Phantom takes a couple long strides, allowing himself to walk by your side. "You help in the greenhouse too?" He asks genuinely. You nod, giving him a small smile.
"I work pretty much wherever Primo needs me." You chuckle softly. "If I'm being honest I'd rather be out here than at my desk, it gets awfully stuffy in there sometimes." You whisper to him, as if it was a secret just for the two of you. You found Primo still diligently harvesting the produce you had left him with. "Papa, Phantom needs to ask you about some tea."
"Papa," Phantom bows his head slightly in a polite greeting, "Copia sent me. He's having, uh… that problem again. He said you'd know what I meant." His eyes widened slightly as he waited for Primo to remember what particular ailment he was referring to.
"Right," Primo claps his hands together. "I'll go grab the senna." Once Primo is out of view Phantom's attention immediately shifts back to you.
"What are you two harvesting?" You smile at his curiosity, aside from Primo and the other Siblings that helped in the gardens no one ever seemed interested about the work you did in here.
"Berries mostly." He trails closely behind you as you return to the plant you had been previously seated in front of. "The raspberries came out wonderful this year, I don't think we've ever had this big of a crop." Phantom kneels next to you in the dirt, eyes darting between your hands as they worked and your face.
"Can I ask a silly question?" He inquires sheepishly.
"There are no silly questions." You give him a reassuring smile, gently bumping your shoulder against his.
"What do raspberries taste like?" You paused. You had gotten so used to seeing Phantom dart around the Abbey that you had forgotten he had only been summoned a little while ago. Something as simple and well enjoyed by you he had never experienced before.
"Would you like to try one?" He nods eagerly. You search through the bush, looking for the best looking berry you could find. You carefully held it between your fingers as you offered it to him. "Now, I'm going to warn you, they have seeds and they're kind of fuzzy." He squints at the fruit, bright violet eyes analyzing it closely. He takes the berry between his teeth, taking extra care to make sure his fangs didn't accidentally graze your fingers. He chewed it slowly, eyes never leaving your face.
"It's good… sweet." He smiles proudly at his small triumph. His gaze travels to the top of your head. "You, uh, have a leaf." He points to your hair. You attempt to brush it away on your own but you could tell by the expression he was giving you that it was still there. He cautiously reaches towards you, untangling it from your strands before discarding it on the ground. His eyes scan over your features, a smile coming to his lips as he brushes the disturbed hair back into place. "Beautiful." You let out a flustered giggle. You both jump as Primo speaks up.
"This should take care of Copia's problem." He holds out a jar of herbs to Phantom. Seeing both of your bashful states he pauses. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?" He gives you a smug grin.
"No Papa, we were just talking." You nervously fidgeted with your fingers as you spoke.
"Thank you for the tea Papa. (Y/N), hopefully I'll see you soon." He flashes you another dazzling smile before making his leave. You couldn't stop your eyes from trailing after him as he left, turning back to Primo once he fully stepped out of sight. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the shit eating grin he wore 
"Don't look at me like that." You tried to hide your flustered state.
"I see we fancy ourselves a Quintessence Ghoul, do we?" He returns to the plant at your side with a laugh.
"We were just talking Papa." You reiterate again to try and get your point across.
"Just talking wouldn't cause the two of you to jump like that my dear. I've witnessed my fair share of crushes in my day, it's nothing to be ashamed of." He addresses the matter casually.
"Papa!" You exclaim through a giggle. 
"Fine, fine." He accepts defeat, holding up his hands in surrender. "But, when you do finally come to terms with the fact you're attracted to him, I'll be here to talk." He smiles patiently.
You laugh and shake your head, "I don't have a crush on Phantom, it's just…" you trailed off for a moment. You couldn't exactly put into words how you felt. You had always been pretty close with all of the Ghouls, so when the newest members were summoned you were one of the first to be introduced. When you had first met Phantom he was timid, still feeling somewhat awkward in his more humanoid form.
"Walk me through what you're thinking tesoro, maybe I can help you sort things out." You both kept busy as you talked, knowing if you actually allowed yourself to focus on the words spilling from your lips you would end up overthinking.
"He's very easy for me to talk to. It took me a while to form the friendships that I have, but with him it almost felt effortless. The first night I met him there was something about him that was just so… captivating. He was unlike any person or Ghoul I had ever met." You explain.
"You two definitely seemed to hit it off pretty quickly. Up until he met you I don't think I had ever really seen Phantom interact with any of the Siblings, he mostly kept to himself. Perhaps there are a few members of his pack he's close to, but compared to the rest of Copia's Ghouls he seems a bit reserved." Primo remarks.
"That's the thing Papa… he's not." You thought back to one of the times it had just been the two of you. "Phantom is loud, boisterous, confident." His infectious laugh echoed through your memories, bringing a smile to his face. It wasn't uncommon for Phantom to coincidentally stumble across you smoking alone in the garden, enjoying the twinkling starlight as the pungent smell of herb filled the air. Being with him only added to the dizzying head rush you had. Gazing into his eyes felt like you were running through a field of lavender, his fingers bumping against yours making your pulse thrum in your ears, entirely consumed by the image of him mere inches away from you. The two of you in your own world together as you resisted the urge to lean into him. You were snapped from your day dream as a thorn pricked your finger, you winced slightly, letting out an exasperated sigh as reality set in once more. "Him and I just get along really well, that's all." Primo just smiled knowingly. He had seen that far off look in your eyes many times before; pining Siblings stumbling into his confessional to pour their heart and soul out to him over a friend who they swore would never be anything more than just that. You didn't say much for the rest of the afternoon, the memory of Phantom playing repeatedly in your mind as you tried to convince yourself none of that mattered.
"I'll see you in the morning." Primo waves over his shoulder as the two of you part ways in the halls. You headed back to his office, having a few things to check on before fully retiring for the evening. You look behind you as you hear another set of footsteps join your own in the empty corridor. You were a bit surprised to see none other than the Ghoul occupying your every thought round the corner. You smile at the sight of him, pausing to let him catch up.
"Copia wanted me to bring Primo a thank you note for the tea." You found yourself shoving your hands deep in your pockets, the slight brush of his hand against yours sending a jolt through your body, causing you to have an urge you didn't dare give into.
"Primo decided to turn in a little early tonight…" you trail off, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. "But, I am heading down to his office now. I wouldn't mind the company if you'd like to walk with me."
"I would love to." He smiles down at you. You blush, quickly darting your eyes down to your feet so hopefully he wouldn't catch your flustered expression. "You seem nervous." You remarked how that was a statement, not a question. You flashed him your most convincing smile, trying to shove your anxiety away so he wouldn't worry.
"It's just been a long day. I'm not really feeling fully… myself, I guess." You found yourself wanting to be honest with him the more you spoke. There was something about being with him that made you feel so undeniably safe that you couldn't lie about how you were feeling. The question flashed through your mind about whether or not Quintessence Ghouls possessed some type of mind control power to make you tell the truth. You noticed him glance over at you out of the corner of your eye. "I promise it's nothing to worry about." You slid into your chair as you arrived at Primo's office, Phantom perching himself on the edge of the desk at your side.
"Have you eaten?" He suddenly chimes. Your stomach decided to answer before you had a chance to, giving off a low angry growl over your hunger. "I'll take that as a no." Phantom chuckles. You return his laugh as you open some of the new letters that had appeared on your desk. You groaned as you recognized Sister Imperator's neat script.
"What now?" Phantom's brow furrowed at your distress. "Great, another meeting with Nihil, Papa's going to be thrilled." You drop your head into your desk with a groan. You felt Phantom's warm head slide across your back, rubbing soothing circles in between your shoulder blades. You reluctantly picked up the receiver of the old rotary phone, dialing the number for Primo's quarters as you propped your chin up in your hand. "Hi Papa." He sighed at the tone you greeted him with, already knowing what was in store for him. "We have a meeting with your Father." You held the receiver away from your ear as a loud string of Italian curses exploded out of it. "I'll be there in ten minutes." You inform him before hanging up. "I'm sorry to run off-"
"It's alright." He cuts you off, grimacing slightly as he realized he had done so. "Are you going to be in the garden tonight?"
You nodded slowly, "probably. I'm sure I'm going to need to unwind after this." You stand with a groan. You collect your belongings, smiling at Phantom as you turn to leave. In a moment of boldness, more than likely brought in by the aggravation of having to deal with Sister, you paused. "These meetings usually take about two hours. I'd really like to see you tonight if you have time."
"I'll be there." He responds eagerly. You try your best to hide your excited smile as you hurry off to meet Primo. The second you entered his quarters he noticed your change in attitude.
"Well, what do we have here? You seem awfully happy my dear." You met Primo's gaze in his reflection. His papal paint half done, still dressed in his gardening clothes. "Might I venture a guess this has something to do with a certain Ghoul?" You knew there was no lying to him in your current state.
"I may or may not be seeing Phantom after our meeting tonight." You spit out your statement hurriedly, knowing he was going to make a big deal about it.
"Hm," he hums, grinning at you, "sounds like a nice little date to unwind after a stressful day, no?" You haphazardly comb your fingers through your hair, trying your best to appear somewhat decent.
"It's not a date Papa, just two friends meeting up." He chuckles at your response.
"Tell me tomorrow if your feelings on that subject have changed." You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief for how sure he was of himself. You helped him shrug into his Papal robes before heading to the never ending meeting. Every second felt like an hour, your eyes practically glued to the clock as you waited for the meeting to come to a close. 
"You are dismissed." The second Nihil groaned out the words you bolted for the door, not missing Primo's amused expression on your way out. You headed straight for the garden, expertly winding your way to the spot where you and Phantom always managed to run into each other. A smile instantly spread across your features at the sight of him. He had set out a blanket in the pathway, a small spread of various foods set out for the two of you.
"What's all this?" You ask with a soft laugh as you approach him.
His eyes darted to the ground nervously, you noticed him swaying on his heels slightly as he spoke. "Well, I know you haven't eaten so I wanted to bring you some food. I didn't know what you liked so I asked Mountain and well…" He trails off, motioning to the spontaneous picnic. "I was thinking maybe you and I could have some dinner together?" 
"I would love to have dinner with you, Phantom." He beams at your response, excitement immediately overtaking his nerves as he motions for you to sit. You sat and talked with Phantom for hours, your body and mind feeling lighter the longer you spent with him. As time passed the two of you eventually cleared off the blanket, opting to lay side by side to gaze up at the stars, a lit joint passed between the two of you. You watched the smoke curl high into the air, the warmth of Phantom's body seeking into your shoulder.
"I really like spending time with you." He speaks up suddenly. You blush at his statement, feeling his fingers ghost over yours both of your hands intertwined carefully. You didn't need to respond, he knew you felt the same way. The two of you took turns pointing out different constellations you recognized until, eventually, you decided you should probably get back to your dorm. Phantom's fingers remained intertwined with yours as he stood, hoisting you from the ground after him. You stumble slightly, falling into his chest. You felt the quick, steady rhythm of his heartbeat under his palm. His free hand lands on your waist to steady you. Your eyes snapped up to his, they glowed a beautiful violet in the moonlight.
"Sorry." You giggle nervously. He chuckles, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.
"No need to apologize, are you alright?" You nod, both of you blushing and mumbling out an apology as you realized you were still holding onto each other, taking a moment to separate. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence through the halls until you reached your dorm. You stood across from each other in front of your door, nervously swaying in your heels. "That was fun, maybe we can do that again sometime."
"I'd like that." Both of you searched for something, anything at all to say, to stay with each other just a few moments longer. But nothing came to mind. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, (Y/N)." He smiles at you, beginning to turn away. You reach out, catching his wrist in your hand. He looks back at you, a hopeful expression in his eyes. You stand on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
"Goodnight, Phantom." You take one final glance at him before you slip into your room. You fell into your bed with a sigh, dragging your hands down your face. "He's so handsome." You groan to your empty room. You let your arms fall out to the side, staring blankly up at your system as you remembered Primo's words from earlier. "I've witnessed my fair share of crushes in my day, it's nothing to be ashamed of my dear." You grimaced, that old man really could read you like an open book. You got ready for bed, dreading talking Primo tomorrow that he was right. But you needed advice. You had never taken the whole romance thing into consideration. Sure, you had dated a few people in the past, but none of those relationships really went past the honeymoon phase or initial hookup. You could already tell that if by some miracle Phantom did reciprocate your feelings this wouldn't be a simple fling. You woke with a start, getting into your overalls as you prepared for a long day weeding the flowerbeds. As you entered the garden you found Primo already waiting for me, a cup of tea waiting for you on the bench next to him.
"Good morning il mio bambino." He greets you with a smile. "These were left on your desk this morning." He picked up three white roses, all tied together with a purple ribbon.
"Was there any note?" He shook his head. You held the flowers to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent with a smile. "I'm going to put these in some water." You quickly run to the greenhouse, placing the blooms in a vase so you could take them home later before returning to Primo. You picked up the tea cup he had set out for you, sitting by his side and enjoying the stillness of the early morning air.
"So, how did last night go?" He prods.
You sigh, "it was perfect, I don't know what else to say about it." You chuckle.
"Are you still trying to keep up the façade that you're just friends?" He asks before taking a long sip of his tea.
"As much as I would like to, I don't think I can." You admit with a bashful laugh. "I've definitely got a bit of a crush on him." You spent a good portion of your morning catching Primo up on the events of the night prior.
He looks at you with an amused smile, "dare I say I think he might be feeling the same towards you my dear." He grins.
"I hope so, I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to hide this from him." Primo collects your cup from you as you finish your drink.
"Well you'll have plenty of time to think things over tesoro. Enjoy the flirting, romance is supposed to be fun, you should be basking in the glow of young love." You blush, shaking your head as you playfully roll your eyes. 
"I'm going to get started out here, I'll come check on you in a couple hours." He pays your head before heading to his office.
"Don't work too hard." He calls over his shoulder as he disappears from the garden, allowing you to get to work.
"Well what do we have here." You jump slightly as Mountain bounds up beside you, a basket of vegetables perched on his hip. 
"Hey Mount." Your hand claps into his as he helps you out of the dirt.
"Primo's got you on weeding duty today?" He asks, a bit confused. Weeding was usually a job saved for new Siblings, Primo believing in a hierarchy of sorts until they got settled in.
"I needed a task that would let me reflect on my feelings." You preach back to him in your best Papa impression. "He's had some suspicions that are proving to be correct."
"Everything alright?" He motions for you to walk with him.
"Yeah." You trail off for a moment. "If I tell you something, can you promise it'll stay between us?"
"Of course, you know you can always talk to me." He nudges you.
"So, there's been someone leaving flowers on my desk the past couple days. Which is super sweet, but I need to find out who it is. Recently I've… come to terms with the fact I have feelings for someone." You chose your words carefully, hesitant to give away who the object of your affection was despite the fact you knew you would end up telling him regardless. "Then on top of that I don't want to say anything to this other person because they might not feel the same."
"First off, I wouldn't worry about confessing your feelings. You're amazing, whoever it is would be so lucky to have earned your affection. Regardless of the answer I'm sure everything will work out for the best. And if you want to know who's getting you flowers, maybe hideout in the greenhouse, they're bound to show up sooner or later." You nodded, that wasn't a terrible plan. "Now, the real question is, who's your secret crush?" He asks in a teasing tone.
"Promise you won't say anything?" You felt ridiculous, you felt like you were in high school all over again. You were a grown adult acting like a teenage girl. Yet you couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at the mere thought of him.
"You have my word." Mountain promises.
"It's Phantom." He pauses, looking down at you with the biggest smile. "What?"
"You have to tell him, the two of you would be such a great couple!" You attempt to stutter out a response, Mountain's bluntness getting you completely fluttered. "Seriously though, I think it would be worth a shot telling him. You never know, maybe he could've been your secret admirer the whole time." He chuckles before the two of you parted ways. You headed to Primo's office, already having gotten a good deal of weeding done today. You pushed through his office door with a groan.
"Good afternoon my dear." He greets you jovially despite not looking up from his paperwork. A pair of thin, wire framed reading glasses sat perched on the end of his nose.
"Afternoon Papa, do you need me to take care of anything?" You refill his glass of water in his desk.
"Actually there is, I have a stack of hymns that need to be returned to the music hall. It took me a while to decide which ones I wanted for mass this week." He chortles. You accepted the stack from him with a smile. "When you return we'll have so tea, I believe you're due for a break."
"Of course Papa, I'll be right back." You read through the stack of sheet music as you walk through the halls, humming the melodies presented before you. You kicked open the door to the music hall with your foot. Your ears were instantly met with an all too familiar tune. You glanced up to find Phantom perched at the edge of the stage, his usual black guitar resting comfortably over his thigh as he rehearsed by himself. You sit yourself in one of the chairs in the room, watching as his fingers effortlessly moved across the fret board. He jumped slightly when he noticed you were there.
"Now how did I end up with such a pretty audience." He flashes his fangs at you as a wide grin spreads across his features.
"No matter how many times I see you play you always amaze me. You're so talented." You compliment him, earning a bashful chuckle that made your heart flutter in your chest.
"Thank you." He stands, slowly striding over to you. "Now what brings you all the way down here." You held up the stack of papers.
"Primo needs these returned." Phantom takes the stack from you, knowing howuch of a pain organizing hymns tended to be.
"Want some help? I'm pretty familiar with how Cumulus has it set up in here." He offers.
"That would be great, I'd be here all night doing this by myself." You joke. Phantom clicks on the radio, some oldies station buzzing to life. He slings an arm over your shoulder, guiding you to the filing cabinet where the hymns were stored. Phantom seemed much more relaxed than normal today. He was consistently making jokes, the two of you idly chatting as you sorted everything away. "I love this song!" You exclaim, turning up the volume of the radio. You swayed around the room, humming along with the tune. Phantom chuckles at your excitement. He sets his remaining sheet music down, stepping closer to you so he could pull you towards him. You laugh, letting your fingers intertwine with his as the other slides over his shoulder. The two of you swayed along with the rhythm, Phantom giving your waist a gentle squeeze as he smiles down at you. He spun you around, causing you to giggle. "I didn't know you could dance."
"I wanted to learn to impress someone I like." He winks at you, both of you letting out bashful laughter.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I need you for band practice." Sodo leans against the doorframe, eyes darting between the two of you. Phantom reluctantly released his hold on you, holding your hand a few moments longer than necessary before joining the other Ghoul.
"I'll see you soon." He promises.
"Bye Phantom." You smile at him, waving to Sodo as they both leave. You finish filing away the hymns, clicking off the radio before heading back to Primo's office. The rest of the day passed in a blur, the feeling of Phantom holding you close clouding your every thought. You had decided to take Mountain's advice of waiting in the greenhouse, wanting to tell your secret admirer that you already had your eye on someone else. So, once you had said goodnight to Primo, you slipped out into the gardens in hope of capturing the mysterious florist in the act. You hid in a relatively secluded corner, tucked away behind some lush bushes where you couldn't be seen. Luckily you didn't have to wait long for them to show up. You heard their soft humming approach where you were. The soft snips of pruning shears as they collected their flowers. Your eyebrows knitted together as you realized that this was a voice you recognized. You peeked out from your hiding place. You smiled softly at the sight before you, stepping out into the open, you cleared your throat.
Phantom's eyes shot up to you, he froze as he realized he had been caught. He looks nervously between you and the flowers he held in his hand. His mouth fell open but no words came out at first. When, finally, through all his nerves he actually takes a moment to look at you. Your whole face lit up with a smile, eyes searching his face as you waited for him to say anything. He couldn't believe how cute you looked as you nervously wrung your hands. He stands, offering a small bouquet of red chrysanthemums. "I'm assuming you've been getting my flowers." He chuckles. You carefully take hold of the bunch, gazing it down in awe before placing them off to the side. Your body moved purely on instinct, arms sliding around Phantom's waist as you pulled him into a hug. He tenses up for a moment before wrapping you tightly in his embrace.
"They've all been beautiful." You mumble against his chest. You slowly separated from each other, his gaze catching yours. He smiles warmly at you, those gorgeous, glowing purple eyes causing you to melt.
He gently takes your chin between his fingers. "I feel… strange whenever I'm around you." He admits, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Strange how?" You ask through a smile, laughing as he tugs you closer.
"Sweaty mostly." He jokes. "You make me nervous in a good way." He continues to ponder out loud. "My heart starts to beat really fast, and all I can think about is reaching out to hold you… what kissing you would be like." You blush at his admission.
"You're more than welcome to find out for yourself." Your voice shook as you spoke, a soft breathy laugh punctuating your statement. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, his eyes tracing over every detail of your face.
"I'm sorry if I'm not any good at this." He chuckles.
"Just follow my lead." You tease, your hands sliding up his chest and into his hair as he closes the distance between the two of you. His lips crashed into yours. A satisfied hum left your lips as you pushed your body into his. He held you tightly, as if he let you go you would disappear before his eyes. The kiss started out slow, you slowly guided him through the motions. You had found out that Phantom was a very quick learner. His pace gradually increased, the kiss growing more passionate by the second as he grew addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. You pulled back with a gasp, both of you panting softly. You didn't even have time to catch your breath before Phantom's lips were back on yours, earning a surprised squeak as he pulled you flush against him one more. He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged.
"That was nice." He chuckles. He places another few short pecks to your lips causing you to laugh softly.
"Does this mean you won't be bringing me flowers anymore?" You laugh.
"Sweetheart, I'll bring you flowers everyday if you want me to." He says with a smile as he pulls you in for another passionate kiss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @ramblingoak @kissingghouls @mustluvecho @belnovacaine @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @herripinkle @iamsarahsaysso @fleagutz @jennmakesitweird @gothdaddyissues @i-fondued
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da-rulah · 2 months
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The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 4]
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Summary: Mary can't think straight; at least, not about anything but you. He's angry, and he's hurt - rightly so - but he can't help the feeling that he's missing something. His spider senses are tingling, and his saviour complex is nagging in his head...
Meanwhile, you're dragged to a formal dinner at the Town Hall with your father's sleazy political associates. What could possibly go wrong?
Rating: Explicit, 18+
Word Count: 13.6k
Warnings: Angst, childhood memories/trauma, alcoholism, addiction, minor drug use, creepy men being creepy, unwanted physical touch/harassment, abandonment, panic attacks
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5
ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
A/N: Once again, a huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles & @angellayercake for workshopping and beta reading this fic with me! I live for their reactions every time I sent them an idea or a draft... 🤭 This chapter got away from me, as so many do, and ending up pretty damn long... Enjoy!
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He had to be quick. Any longer, and he might be chased out. But he couldn’t help himself... he wanted to look, to touch...  
“HEY!” A gruff male voice shouted from somewhere behind him. Mary startled, stumbling back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “These are for people who know what they’re doing, not little hooligans!”  
The store clerk came rushing over, coming in between Mary and the beautiful Gibson Les Paul on display, hung up on the wall amongst the others. The body shone in a stunning hue of deep red wood, orange bursting from the fret board. He’d always dreamt of owning a guitar like this – or any at all. He just wanted to pick one up, to learn, to play.  
“S-sorry mister... I didn’t mean to-” 
“Go on, out with you! Comin’ in here every damn day, gettin’ in the way of my customers. Go on, get!” The old man shooed a 10-year-old Mary out of the store, shutting the door in his face and folding his arms behind the glass, watching until Mary finally sagged his little shoulders and sighed to himself, trudging down the sidewalk with his head hung low.  
Other people were allowed in to look at the guitars, to touch them, test them; why wasn’t he? Sure, he knew he was a kid but he wasn’t a bad kid... He knew he could never afford a guitar like that Les Paul, but oh how he dreamed of owning his own guitar. Just a little acoustic thing to practise on. He'd put in the work, he’d swear it. He just wanted to learn.  
Still, Mary headed home with his hands in his pockets and his head hung low, avoiding the eyes of the adults around town who looked down on him with looks of either disgust or pity; he was never sure which was worse.  
“Mom?” he called out as he walked into the small and run-down little apartment block on the edge of town. They’d had to move in here almost a six months ago after his father left, unable to afford much else on his mother’s salary; her job at the local diner didn’t pay well. 
Music from the radio filtered through the hall, along with the smell of yesterday’s spaghetti being reheated on the stove. “In here, baby,” a weak shout came from the kitchen. She sounded weaker with each week that passed, barely eating and drinking far too much to be considered healthy at all. Mary had spotted that, not totally understanding the ramifications of it at his tender age but he was wiser beyond most 10-year-old’s years. That’s the thing about a shitty childhood; you grow up quick. 
Still, he was grateful his father was out of the picture now. Honestly? The lesser of two evils. It was better him gone than be here still, hurting everybody around him. 
Mary headed into the kitchen, sitting down at the small table for the two of them and waiting patiently as his mum stirred the pot over the stove, her back to him. He watched as her left hand lifted a glass from beside the stove; a wine glass, half-filled with the cheapest red on the market. 
“Good day?” she asked, looking briefly over her shoulder. Mary just shrugged; he hadn’t paid much attention in school, and he didn’t want to tell her about being chased out of the music store. Although he wasn’t sure what he’d done to get kicked out, he still lived under the assumption it was somehow his fault.  
His mother hummed along to the radio as she heated their food, taking gulps of the wine to her left and refilling it before plating up two small bowls of food – hers noticeably smaller – and sitting opposite Mary as she placed them down. 
“Thank you,” he smiled at her shyly, never forgetting his manners as he tucked into his meal. His mother smiled fondly at her boy, twirling her fork in the pasta noodles as she sipped her wine. The radio played to fill the silence, songs from another decade that had his mother reminiscing over happier years. 
As he chewed, he thought back to that guitar, how he’d do anything to have one like that. But he’d settle for a smaller, cheaper, second-hand one. He’d be delighted with one. He just wanted to learn how to play, and then maybe one day, his mom could hum along to his songs on her radio.  
“Ma, I think I know what I want for my birthday...” 
“Oh? Well good! I was wondering when you’d give me some ideas,” she smiled. Mary hesitated, chewing his lip. Was he asking for too much? Perhaps, but he had to try at least. “Come on, baby, what is it?”  
“Well... can I get a guitar? Not like, an expensive one or anything... Just second-hand or something. I wanna learn to play, Ma. I think I’d get real good at it!” he rambled, his excitement barely contained as he thought about how people might change how they saw him if he could prove he was good at something, that he could work hard and prove himself.  
His mother’s smile faltered, fading as she dropped her fork against her bowl and grabbed her wine glass, finishing the rest of it off and pouring herself another hefty glass.  
“Baby, guitars aren’t cheap, even the second-hand ones...” she began, her voice quiet and full of regret. 
“No, I know, but I thought, maybe if I could get a job somewhere, I could mow lawns or something, maybe help Mr Rogers at the carpenters or get a paper route, then maybe I could-” 
“Baby you’re ten years old, you should just be a kid as long as you can,” she smiled sadly, her eyes betraying her as they glassed over with tears. It broke her heart to see her little boy so desperate to be a man, to help her, to help pay for his own damn birthday present.  
“I... I can still be a kid, I just thought I could help?” he questioned. 
“I just don’t think I can afford it baby...” Mary’s shoulders slumped, his own fork dropping into his bowl as he sat back against the chair in defeat.  
“Could you stop buying wine for a little, Ma? I just really want a guitar... And then you can get more again. Just for a bit, I promise!”  
If her heart wasn’t already breaking for her little boy, it did then. The guilt rose like bile in her throat, her eyes staring at the bottle on the table, her glass emptied again and the taste lingering on her tongue. She’d had her own selfishness reflected back at her, a mirror held up to the truth; the truth being that her lips were stained with the red of her addiction, paired with her sunken eyes, bearing the weight of her sorrow. 
She should try, she thought to herself. For him, for her little Mary. He never asked her for anything, and the one thing he wants in the world for his birthday was a crummy little second-hand guitar? She should be able to give him that; as a mother, she wanted to give him the world. He certainly deserved it after all he’d been through.  
“I-I’ll... I’ll try, Mary. I’ll really try,” her voice cracked, swallowing the guilt down and forcing the tears to recede. Mary nodded to himself, looking down into his bowl and back to hers that even untouched, still had less in than his half-eaten leftovers.  
He stood up, the bowl in his hands and placed it down in front of her. She needed to eat more, he thought.  
“Oh, baby no, it’s okay. You should ea-” 
“I’m not that hungry, Ma. Please take it.” 
She stopped protesting, nodding as she held a shaking hand out to hold his cheek, stroking her thumb over the pudge he was yet to grow out of with a gentle smile.  
“Thank you, angel,” she told him, pressing a wine-stained kiss to his forehead. “I promise, I’ll try harder.” 
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Deft fingers plucked at the strings of a battered old acoustic guitar. The wood was splintering where the neck met the body, the varnish worn down in places that hands would dance over as it had been played to within an inch of its life. Stickers littered the body, hiding nicks and damages from over the years but they too were beginning to wear down to white patches of nothing.  
Still, she sang like a dream the way she always had. Mary’s skilled hands worked her strings mindlessly, drifting from riffs he’d learned of his favourite bands over the years to riffs of his own he’d written – the most recent sounding much more melancholy than he’d anticipated.  
Sitting in his dimly lit studio apartment, he reclined against the wall at the head of his bed with his first guitar in his lap. His intention had been to drift off into his own world, to write some riffs for songs he could present to the guys and form into tracks for upcoming shows, but he’d been unable to focus, his fingers working on muscle memory alone as his head drifted to the same thing he’d thought of for the last few days.  
He’d had time to calm down, for the fog of anger to dissipate and now he’d entered the reflection stage. The anger morphed into hurt, reminded once again that no matter if you wanted him or not, you still were ashamed to be seen with him. He didn’t fit your image, his mere existence in your life was inconvenient and a black stain on your pristine white image.  
He wondered if cleaning himself up was an option for a brief moment. What if he didn’t paint his face? What if he wore a shirt instead of his cut off band tees? What if he styled his hair different? All the ‘what if’s swam around his head, but they’d be lies. Mary was many things, but never a phony. He refused to bow down to public opinion and become one of the masses if it meant sacrificing everything that was genuinely him.  
He decided he’d rather be hated for who he was, than adored for something he wasn’t. Which is exactly the life you were living. 
You’d chosen a world where people loved you, fell at your feet to be known by you and yet somewhere along the way, you’d sacrificed whoever you truly were, covered it up with bows and frills and shiny trinkets. He almost felt sorry for you.  
Still, he couldn’t swallow the nagging feeling that he’d done something wrong, that he was letting you slip through his fingers. He wasn’t dumb; Mary knew there was more to you than this image. He’d seen glimpses of it, this vulnerable yet feisty woman clawing at you from inside. Frankly, you drove him crazy. He'd never wanted anything for himself so badly in his life, except maybe the guitar in his hands. He couldn’t lay his eyes on you without wanting you; perhaps up until recently, he thought that was simply physical attraction, a need to take you and have you both coming undone together.  
But the way you plagued his mind, how he thought of you during the smallest moments of peace to himself... he was beginning to understand he’d formed a kind of connection with you he couldn’t begin to explain. But he was starting to recognise a feeling within himself that stung like rubbing alcohol on a wound, a feeling that shot him right back to his childhood, to a place so painful he’d shoved it down and ignored it for years.  
Before he could go down that route, his shook his head to rid the memories and lay his guitar gently beside him, reaching for his smokes on his nightstand. Lighting one up with his zippo lighter, he rested himself back against the wall, swiping a hand down his face in exasperation. He’d spent too long on this, too many moments infiltrated by thoughts of you.  
If Mary was being honest with himself, he only had to ask himself one simple question; were you worth compromising everything he knew about himself? Were you worth him changing himself, becoming something he wasn’t so he could be ‘acceptable’ in your world? 
No.  
Because that was a world that would only ever see him as a delinquent. They had when he was a child, a teenager and now into adulthood. The second they’d known who his father was, who his mother was, they’d judged him. That would never change, so why should he? 
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The town hall ballroom was the last fucking place you wanted to be at any given moment, let alone when it was filled with governors, police chiefs, politicians and seedy businessmen. If you’d had your way, you’d have stayed tucked up in bed, like you’d spent most of your spare time in the last week or so since the Bicentennial fair. Facing reality was something you’d tried to avoid, but that wasn’t going to be possible for Daddy’s big dinner party for all the town’s biggest officials. 
No, you were to be paraded like a shiny trophy daughter tonight, mingling with the rich and seedy underbelly of your father’s political career. These people made your stomach turn and your skin crawl. You observed them from the corner of the room, a glass of prosecco in a hand covered by white satin gloves to the elbow, in a fancy, floor-length, glittered evening dress of the same pale peach colouring as the bubbly. Your mother had picked the outfit, “elegance with a touch of sparkle” she had said. 
Watching them mingle and chatter away, you could barely help the expression on your face turning to one of vague disgust. Your father made his way around the room, shaking hands and rubbing shoulders with the elite while your mother followed in tow, laughing at all the jokes she must have heard a thousand times over the years and nattering with the wives in the room about the latest gossip.  
Shallow; all of this was so fucking shallow. But the worst part? This was your future. Your mother... her life was the future your father had paved for you, expected you to walk. You couldn’t think of anything worse.  
“Pumpkin! Come and say hello to Mr. Nelson,” you father flagged you down from your inner monologue of disapproval, notably stood with an old man you recognised as the town’s previous Mayor. Mr. Nelson had handed the title over to your dad when you were little, staying a consistent advisor in the governing of the town’s affairs ever since his retirement six years ago.  
You’d never liked him. There was something untoward about him, sleazy and manipulative; but that’s politicians for you.  
You knocked back the rest of your prosecco glass for a bit of liquid encouragement and walked towards them with your prettiest fake smile on.  
“Good evening, Mr. Nelson,” you said, taking his outstretched hand to shake. 
“Good evening, my dear!” He didn’t let go of your hand like you’d expected, instead tightening his grip and pulling you to lean forwards so he could press a whiskered kiss to your cheek – or what was actually closer to the corner of your lips. When he leaned back, he winked at you, still keeping hold of your hand to lift it, unashamedly scanning his eyes over your body in your dress and twirling you like a doll on a music box. “My, my... how you’ve grown, hm?” 
Your eyes locked onto your father, who was smiling at you fondly as if there wasn’t a problem. You, however, were exceedingly uncomfortable. You looked back to Mr. Nelson, smiling and acting the part. Honestly, you’d always wondered if acting would be a good career for you; you did it often enough.  
“Quite the beautiful young lady these days,” Mr. Nelson commented, letting go of your hand and coming to stand beside you, a hand resting on the small of your back as he turned to speak to your father.  
“She gets all that from her mother, of course,” he smiled proudly, squeezing the shoulders of your mother beside him, who swatted him with her own gloved hand.  
“Oh, stop it, you charmer,” she laughed. You recoiled from the interaction, uncomfortable that there was still a hand on you at all, let alone on the small of your back. 
“Your father was telling us about your college days; quite impressive, my dear!” Mr. Nelson said, his hand patting just above the curve of your behind.  
“Y-yeah... I mean, thank you, sir,” you smiled graciously. How could you get out of this?  
“Now, if only we could find her a nice man to settle down with,” your father joked, your mother smiling along with him as Mr. Nelson chuckled.  
“I’m sure that won’t be difficult, hm? Plenty of fine men about town. Any catch your eye?” he asked, looking down at you with a raised white eyebrow.  
Instantly, your mind flew to Mary. Certainly, he was not the kind of ‘fine man’ Mr. Nelson or your father would envision for you; in fact, you’re sure they would recoil in horror, but you couldn’t help but think of him. Any opportunity for your brain to remind you of how painfully you’d fucked that up, it would take.  
You took too long to answer, head full of Mary as it so often was.  
“Pumpkin, Mr. Nelson asked you a question,” he insisted with an expectant nod of his head.  
“Oh, not to worry. She clearly has somebody in mind, if the mere mention of a man has her daydreaming about him, hm?” he chortled, his hand now slipping lower to pat at the curve of your backside. Instinctively you jumped forward half a step to get away from the unwanted contact, head whipping to your father in the hope he’d seen that, that he’d step in and defend you. But of course, he didn’t.  
“Pumpkin? What’s gotten into you, hm?” His glare was disapproving, his eyebrow quirking as he waited for your answer, but an awkward silence fell on the four of you instead.  
“I, um... I’m so sorry, I think I lost my balance. These, uh, damn heels, that’s all,” you laughed nervously, averting the eyes of everyone around you.  
“Perhaps a little too much bubbly,” Mr. Nelson accused, tipping his head towards your empty flute in your hand.  
“Y-yes, maybe... Perhaps I need some air. Would you excuse me?”  
You were turning and leaving before your father could stop you, shoving the glass in your hand onto the tray of a waiter on your way to the door, ignoring the calls of “pumpkin!” behind you, sounding aggravated and embarrassed. Heads turned to watch you leave but you couldn’t look at them, overwhelmed and uncomfortable. You just had to get out.  
You headed directly for your father’s office, a small and private space to collect yourself before inevitably having to go back to the ballroom sooner rather than later, lest your father come looking for you.  
Finally alone and in a quiet spot, you slumped into your father’s chair behind his desk, spinning absentmindedly from side to side guided by your stiletto on the ground. You focussed on breathing, helping to subside the panic that had risen in you. Bad enough you’d been forced to come to this thing, let alone subjected to the wandering hands of a man who’d known you since you were barely out of diapers. This evening was the nightmare you’d expected it to be.  
Looking around your father’s office, it hadn’t changed much. The American flag stuck in his pen cup, the portrait of President George Washington on the wall, the photo frame on his desk that housed a very official looking family portrait taken when you were still in middle school. 
This was your life. This façade of pomp and circumstance, governed by sleazy men and dodgy business deals... this was all you could see for yourself. No wonder you were clinging onto Mary by your perfectly manicured fingernails, allowing him back in so easily whenever there was room in your mind. He was the antithesis of that horrendous life already mapped out for you. He was the embodiment of freedom to you, someone that lived their life governed by them and them alone.  
He liked dark things, heavy music, grungy clothes. He didn’t restrict himself, lived freely, chasing the dreams he so obviously strived for. He didn’t care what people thought of him, he lived his truth.  
You wished you could live like that. 
Lost to your musings and memories of brief encounters with Mary, you startled at the sound of the door to your father’s office slamming shut, with him stood before it. He’d come alone, his arms folded over his chest in his crisp tuxedo, and a hardened look of fury in his features.  
Your stomach dropped and you sat upright immediately; this wasn’t going to be pretty. 
“What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper and yet spat through clenched teeth. 
“Daddy, I just... Mr. Nelson, he-” 
“Don’t you ‘daddy’ me. Do you realise how embarrassing that was for your mother and I?” he scolded. You swallowed your words, thrown right back to being told off as a child. “Mr. Nelson thinks you were drunk. Are you?” 
“No, daddy, I swear!” you protested, having only drank two glasses... on an empty stomach and faster than a shot of your favourite flavour schnapps.  
“Then explain why you were so damn rude to him, hm?” he raised his voice, stepping towards you and leaning down on his own desk by his palms.  
“He put his hands on me! He’s a creep, dad!” you matched his volume, defending yourself. Your dad just scoffed at you, shaking his head in disbelief.  
“He’s a respected member of this community. One bad word from him, and this could all be over for us. My career, our way of life, everything! Do you understand that?” he shouted. How silly of you to think your own father might take your side when one of his creep associates lay a finger on you.  
“It was a knee-jerk reaction, he touched my ass dad, like some fucking pervert!” you yelled back, standing from his chair and finding the guts to finally answer back, to fight for what was right instead of pander to him. Mary would be proud. 
“You watch your mouth, young lady. I am your father-” 
“YES! YOU ARE! And as my father, I thought you might stand up for me, oh, I don’t know, maybe be disgusted when some old man lays a hand on your daughter’s ass!”  
Your father lifted an accusatory finger at you, wagging it in your face as if scolding a bad dog. “He was talking to you about your future. A future that he can take away with a snap of his fingers.” He demonstrated with the hand he waved wildly in front of you. “You’re lucky your mother has such a way with words...” 
“You mean she’s a good liar,” you laughed humourlessly. “Suppose you have to be in this kind of life...” His face paled, his eyes darkening and appearing to sink further into his skull as he stood up straight, his brow furrowing. 
“I have worked for over two decades to build us ‘this life’,” his voice deepened, darkening considerably as he loomed over you. “Look around you. Do you think this just happens? I have done nothing but provide for you, you ungrateful little girl.” 
“This is the problem... I’m not a little girl anymore, and you still treat me like I can’t think for myself. I’ve got my own mind, things that I want to do. Do you give a shit about that at all?” The anger inside you you’d caged up for too long was surfacing, the heat on that simmering pot turning up with every word out of your father’s mouth. Already you were too far gone to reel it back in. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to hear this. 
“I give a shit about this family!” he screamed. “I will not allow you to tear it all down in some childish tantrum!” 
“Tear what down?!” you protested, “I just want to be able to do something for myself for a change, to start my life! It’s got nothing to do with your prestige as Mayor, I just want to be able to finally crawl out from under your shadow!" 
Your father ignored you completely, still only seeing the pigtailed little girl from the portrait on his desk standing in front of him. He had no idea she’d grown up before his very eyes. He’d blinked and missed it, too damn focussed on his own career and image to notice.  
“You selfish little brat. You don’t get it, do you?” he sneered, “This is MY TOWN! MY LEGACY! You will live by MY RULES!” 
And truthfully, that was all it was ever going to boil down to. His fucking legacy.  
You sagged your shoulders in defeat, tears begging to fall out of anger. Everything you thought your dad still believed, he’d proven to you in just a few minutes; you were still a child to him, and his legacy was more important than your own happiness. Nothing you could say would win this fight. Nothing would make him see how badly he was hurting you.  
You took a deep breath, composing yourself to speak a little calmer, more collected. With emotions heightened, it was easy to yell and scream back at him, to get carried away but you were determined to show him this was not some ‘tantrum’. You meant this.  
“What if I don’t want to do that anymore?” you asked, staring him straight in the eye. The air seemed to thicken around you as you waited for it to soak in, for him to hear you, process, and respond. The silence was suffocating.  
“I’m sorry?” he asked, turning his head to present his ear as if he hadn’t heard you, but he most certainly had. He just wanted you to repeat yourself, testing you, warning you; did you have the balls to say it again? 
“What if... I don’t want to live by your rules anymore?” You spoke calmly, methodically. You will listen, you thought to yourself. 
Your father straightened up again, his head twitching as he tidied up his cuff links, straightened his bow tie and slicked back his hair before he gave you the time of day. This was just a part of his intimidation, his macho technique, reminding you he was a distinguished man, one with power. When he finally looked you in the eye again, his face was set in stone.  
“Then you can get the hell out of my office.” 
Like a punch to the gut, it knocked the wind right out of you. He wanted you to leave.  
“F-fine...” you stuttered, walking around the desk as if to head for the door, pulling your cell phone out of your clutch, “I’ll get one of your lap dogs to take me home, and we’ll talk about this in the morning,” you told him, trying to keep a modicum of dignity, prove to him you were an adult and taking the moral high ground. But your father laughed... 
“I don’t think you heard me. Perhaps you didn’t understand...” he turned around to face you, now stood by the door to his office. “This is my town, Pumpkin. This whole town is my office.” 
The weight of what he was saying fell like a barrel of hot tar over you, the scorching, searing pain radiating through you. You stared in disbelief, waiting for him to laugh, to tell you he was kidding, just pushing your buttons to see your reaction but nothing... He just stared at you, as you stared at him, like a deer in headlights. 
“Y-you’re not serious...?” you dared to whisper, shaking your head in denial. 
“Deadly. Get out,” he growled, “or do I have to call security?” 
Those angry tears turned into streams now falling down your cheeks silently while you were unable to blink, processing his command until your body moved of its own accord, reaching for the doorknob and opening it behind you.  
“I’m sure your precious town will love to hear about this,” you threatened, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. He just smirked and folded his arms over his chest again.  
“Careful, Pumpkin. Daddy’s got one hell of a legal team; and they’re all eating out of his palm in that ballroom tonight.” 
He had you beat. Checkmate. Every credible lawyer – and the seedy ones – were on his damn payroll. You couldn’t win this no matter what you did. You just had to walk away...  
And so, you did. Quietly, you slipped out from the opulent town hall and found yourself stood on a street corner a couple of blocks away, out of the sight of not only your father and his invitees behind the huge windows of the ballroom, but out of sight of his cronies, already given the instruction to make sure you left quietly, and didn’t attempt to come back in. 
You were alone, as you had become so accustomed to being. 
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Every riff felt wrong. For over a week now, Mary tried to write something new, something fresh that he’d never heard before, that excited him and inspired him but... nothing. He was beginning to think he’d lost his touch. He knew he couldn’t force inspiration to come, but this was a longer, drier spell than even he was used to... 
He reached for his pack of smokes on the nightstand where they usually sat, only to discover he was fresh out – that last cigarette had truly been his last.  
“Shit,” he cursed to himself, crushing the empty box in his palm and throwing it in the general direction of the trash can, hitting the rim and bouncing off to the floor beside two or three other crumpled cigarette boxes from the last few days.  
Whew, he thought to himself, smokin’ more now, too. Awesome. Still, ignoring the mess he’d neglected to tidy, he stood up from his bed with a stretch, abandoning his tattered acoustic on his bed. His leather jacket that he’d slung over the back of his couch still held his keys, wallet and cell phone from his last outing to the gas station, and so he slithered his arms into the sleeves and headed for the door.  
He knew he didn’t need to take the van to travel the four blocks to the gas station on the edge of town just for cigarettes, but there was something about a late-night drive that calmed Mary. It always felt like one of those rare moments where he got to be himself; a decent band on the stereo and some open road to clear his head.  
He also knew he didn’t need to go all the way to the gas station for smokes; the convenience store on the corner would do just fine. Except, Forrest usually worked the late-night shifts at the gas station, and he’d get to take advantage of his staff discount. 
“Hey man!” Mary called out as he walked into the store, the bell dinging above his head. Forrest looked up from the magazine he was reading, slumped over the counter. 
“Well, look what the dogs dragged in...” Forrest smirked, “where’d you fuck off to the other night?” 
Ah. He’d never explained where he’d disappeared to the night of the fair, nor had he seen any of his friends since. He hadn’t realised he’d shut himself off for that long, but seemingly, he had. 
“Oh, uh...” he stammered, thinking up an excuse.  
“Some chick got your attention, huh?” he stood upright and folded his arms, leaning against the edge of the counter. “I don’t know how you do it, man. You got ‘em lining up out the door. You shoot strawberry milkshake outta that dick, or what?” Mary relaxed instantly, his alibi already created for him.  
“Why, you wanna taste?” he mocked, shooting a flying kiss at him as he stepped up to the counter in an overly camp, seductive walk to make the other laugh. 
“I’ll stick to the slurpie machine, thanks,” he joked, pretending to gag at the thought of Mary’s strawberry milkshake. “You need somethin’, or you just here to entertain me?” 
“Outta smokes,” Mary shrugged. “I’ll grab the usual.” 
Forrest nodded, turning his back to fish through the cigarettes that lined the wall behind the counter, coming to the brand Mary would usually purchase. Mary looked to his left, seeing a special offer on party size bags of Takis and an array of candy bars. He chucked a bag up on the counter with some candy and fished inside his jacket for his wallet as Forrest rung him up.  
“Big plans tonight, huh?” 
“Oh yeah, big night in with my favourite girl, Mary Jane,” Mary waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 
“Explains the snacks, you always did get munchies worse than any of us...” he laughed, punching his employee code into the register to add his discount; something he did without thinking these days. Mary was always grateful. “$15.75” 
“Thanks, man,” Mary handed over a twenty, shoving the change back in his wallet just as his phone started to buzz in his other pocket. He whipped it from his jacket, checking the caller ID when his chest tightened.  
You. 
Mary sneered at the phone in his hand, shoving it back into his pocket with a scowl on his face. If Forrest noticed, he didn’t question it, probably assuming it were a telemarketing scam.  
“We should get a practise in before Saturday,” Forrest suggested, “I think Davey’s free on Tuesday? And I'm off too.” Mary hadn’t forgotten; they had a show to play in the city, some new goth club were having a metal night, and word of Mary’s band was starting to spread beyond the scene they’d been playing for the last two years. 
“Uh yeah.” His phone stopped buzzing in his pocket. He ignored the feeling of disappointment in him, that gnawing voice in the back of his head that told him he should have answered it. “Yeah, I think I’m free. You wanna see if Jed’s about?”  
Forrest made a noise that sounded vaguely like an affirmative as Mary picked up the bag with his purchases inside.  
“Alright, uh...” Mary’s phone began vibrating in his pocket again, barely any respite since the last call. He ignored it, trying to claw himself back to reality instead of letting his mind drift to whatever you could possibly be calling him for. He was sure it was only one thing, anyway. “Let me know, man!” 
“Yeah, see ya!” Forrest grinned, shutting the register with a ping and picking up his discarded magazine as Mary turned and left, the bell dinging above the door again. He stood outside for a moment, fishing his phone out of his pocket and seeing that it was indeed your name that flashed on his screen.  
Once again, he ignored it, shoving it this time into the back pocket of his jeans and skulking back over to his van, parked in a bay near the door. It stopped just as he wrenched the door open with a rusty creak, throwing his bag into the passenger seat. He climbed in behind it, slamming the door shut and settling into the seat as he shoved the keys into the ignition. As he turned them and the engine roared to life with his stereo, he took a deep breath, leaning back against the head rest and desperately willing the thoughts of you to leave him be. 
He’d wasted too much time on you already, and he meant what he’d said last time. He was tired of being everybody’s dirty little secret, and he wasn’t about to answer your fucking booty call. Not again.  
Reaching into the plastic bag beside him, he pulled out his carton of cigarettes and ravaged the packaging until he could pry one from the box and shove it between his lips, pushing the lighter button in on his dashboard and waiting patiently for it to heat. Closing his eyes, he waited for the telltale click, reclining into his seat, when his phone began to buzz in his back pocket once again.  
Mary’s eyes shot open, anger coursing through his veins. Were you that desperate to get laid? It wasn’t fair. He thought he’d made it clear where he stood, that he wasn’t interested in being picked up and dropped whenever someone felt like it anymore. He had to start thinking less with his dick and more with his head – and his heart. 
But you were not getting the message – ignoring your calls wasn’t working. Maye he just needed to say it in black and fucking white.  
Muttering curses to himself, he fished his phone from his back pocket where he sat, seeing that the caller ID did indeed read “Doll” again. He turned the volume of his stereo way down, took a deep breath, and answered the call.  
“Look, I’m really not interested in being your booty call, Barbie,” he spat down the microphone, “so you might wanna just give it up now before you embarrass yourself.” 
He was met with silence. He almost wanted to laugh, picturing the look of sheer shock on your face as you sat surrounded by your pink frills and stuffed animals in that ivory tower of yours. But instead, he waited. Would you dare speak? Argue with him? He’d managed to rile himself up enough by this point that maybe a fight was exactly what he needed to expel the rage.  
The silence continued for a beat too long, and confusion set in. His brow furrowed, checking his phone screen to see if you’d hung up but no, you were still connected. He lifted the phone to his ear again, waiting... and then he heard it. 
A sob.  
A sob so small and timid, he thought maybe he wasn’t supposed to have heard it. But instantly, his face paled, and his chest hollowed. Every muscle in his shoulders that had tensed in his anger when he picked up the phone instantly turned to jelly. He’d expected resistance, maybe a “fuck you, Goore” or something to that effect. He’d expected an argument, rage, denial or defence.  
He waited again, clicking the side button on his phone to turn the volume up in case he’d missed it. Now, he heard the sniffles too, along with the shuddering breath from an inhale that sounded uncontrollable. And then another small, suppressed sob. 
He panicked, sitting bolt upright in his seat and pulling the cigarette from his lips as he looked around his surroundings as if there was something, someone who could help. Of course, there was nothing.  
He didn’t expect you to react that way... Perhaps he’d been too harsh, maybe yelling at you wasn’t the right way to go about this, to cut his ties with you before they were truly bonded, but he hadn’t even thought it through. Mary just thought severing it with a quick, clean blow would do the trick... 
“I-I... d-didn't... know who... to call,” you wept down the phone, breathing irregular as if you were suffering a panic attack. “I’m s-s... sorry.” 
Instantly, Mary knew he’d fucked up. You weren’t calling him for a hook up, this was something different. Something had happened. You had already been in this state. And you’d turned to him for help. Mary swallowed a gulp of nothing, now realising his mouth and throat had gone dry whilst his jaw had hung open in bewilderment and panic. 
“What’s going on?” he asked, frenzied. He waited for a response, only hearing more sobs; ones that you clearly were unable to hold back as you tried to speak, to tell him what had happened. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that you couldn’t say it without losing the small semblance of composure you had. You were in no fit state to talk about this on the phone. 
The hand holding the phone dropped to his lap for a moment as he muttered a “shit” to himself, slamming his head back against the headrest. He was really going to do this, wasn’t he? He was going to run right to you, to go and fucking save you with some twisted sense of duty towards you. But then, yes, of course he was; Mary’s saviour complex had kicked in the second he heard that first tiny, frail sob. 
He held the phone to his ear again. 
“Look just... fuck, just breathe alright? Slowly, if you can. I’m coming, just make sure your window’s unlocked,” he instructed you, pressing his foot down on the clutch and shoving the gear stick into reverse.  
“’m not... home...” you sobbed. Mary paused, confused.  
“Well... where are you?” he asked, now more concerned as to what the hell had happened. If someone had laid a fucking finger on you...  
“R-Raynor... street...”  
Dead centre of town; anything could have happened, anybody could have been around.  
“Alone?” he asked, incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of you being alone at this hour in the middle of town.  
“M-mhm...” Mary cursed to himself again, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he used both hands to spin the wheel of his van, quickly looking in his mirrors to reverse out of his parking spot before he could speed off into the night to come and find you. 
“I’m coming, alright? Stay there. Keep your phone close, stay on the line. You keep off the street ‘til you hear me coming, you understand?” His instructions were clear, almost military-like. He needed you to hear him plainly.  
“Oh...kay,” you sobbed, trying to quieten your sobs and regain control.  
“Keep breathing, I’m on my way.” 
Mary picked the phone from between his ear and shoulder and hit the loud-speaker button, throwing it onto his dash so he could drive easier through the streets as he headed into town. Thankfully the roads had been somewhat empty, most traffic lights turning green on the approach and no one to get in his way or flag him down for speeding at this hour. He just needed to get to you, as fast as possible. 
Turning onto Raynor street, he slowed right down and got a good look; you were nowhere to be seen. He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that you’d just followed his advice, hiding down an alleyway off the main street to keep out of sight of any passersby with bad intentions. He turned his stereo back up, a clear indication that it was him who was driving slowly down the street, watching and waiting for you to pop your head out of somewhere. 
“C’mon, doll... where are you?” he muttered anxiously to himself, looking down every nook and cranny between buildings.  
The music you heard edging closer down the street echoed what you could hear from your phone speaker, telling you that the vehicle approaching was him. A wave of relief washed over you, and you stepped out from between a hair salon and an apartment block near the end of the street. Mary's headlights caught on your dress, the sparkle catching his eye immediately and he sped up until he could break suddenly right next to you, jumping out of his van and running around it to get to you as quickly as he could. 
His hands gripped onto your biceps and he held you out at arm's reach to get a good look at you; carefully placed make up had streaked from your tears, black rings forming around your eyes where your mascara had run. Your eyes themselves were bloodshot; how long had you been out here like this before you’d called him? You shivered in his hands, the cold of the night getting to you in this dress that left your arms and shoulders exposed, doing nothing to warm you at this late hour. He didn’t even think, shucking himself out of his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders where his body heat had already warmed it.  
“Are you hurt?” he asked, cupping your face in his hands and swiping the tear tracks away with his thumbs. You shook your head no, another sob rising in your throat now that he was here. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, his initial reaction to your phone call clearly indicating he was still very much mad at you; not that you could blame him. But it didn’t escape your notice that he had come anyway, and the expression on his face was almost one of terror before his eyes had fallen on you, and softened considerably. 
Something in him cared.  
“Alright, come on... get in,” he settled a hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you gently and quickly to the passenger side of his van where he opened the door for you, helping you up. You settled into the seat, curling in on yourself and hugging Mary’s jacket closer to you for the warmth the night had stripped from you as he climbed in the driver’s side. He turned the stereo right down, the music now only to fill a silence rather than to alert you to his arrival.  
“Is there... somewhere you want me to take you?” he asked, an awkwardness coming over him. He had no idea how to react in this situation, no clue what had happened or why you’d called him of all people when you had an entire security team on your side. 
You seemed to think about it for a moment, a fresh wave of tears trickling from your eyes and dripping to your lap when you looked down in an attempt to hide your face.  
“I... don’t have anywhere...” you sobbed, your fists tightening around the edges of Mary’s jacket to have something to ground you while your shoulders shook.  
Mary watched on helplessly, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to reach over, to pull you into him and hold you so you could let out the much more violent sobs you were so obviously holding back. He was so used to the feistier side of you; your smart mouth, your confidence... It’s what drew him in, what attracted him to you like a moth to a flame. This wasn’t you. 
It stirred up a need in him to help, to sacrifice his own discomfort in favour of your comfort. Instantly, he put you first, forgetting any resignations he had about ever seeing you again. That anger he harboured at how out-of-touch he thought you were? It dissipated the second he’d heard the first sob. He’d been triggered like a sleeper cell, instantly needing to patch up whatever wound you’d suffered. 
“You don’t wanna go home?” he asked, figuring he already knew the answer. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. When you shook your head violently, he got the confirmation he needed. “Alright, well...” He was going to regret this, wasn’t he? But he’d said it before he could stop himself. “You could stop at my place for a bit.” Yep, he regretted it. “If it’s not too weird, or anything... I mean, I live alone, if you’re worried about my friends being ther-” 
“Okay...” you sniffled.  
Mary stopped rambling, instead reaching for the cigarette he’d never lit and thrown on his dash with his phone. Once again, he pushed the cigarette lighter in to heat up, adjusting the heating in the van to a warmer temperature too to warm you up. 
“Alright um, sure...” He held the cigarette between his lips, shoving the van into gear and continuing down the street. “There’s a carton of cigs in the bag by your feet, if you want one,” he offered – more to fill the silence between you than anything. The quiet stereo could only do so much. 
You sniffled and reached down to the bag, fishing through the plastic until you found the carton he’d mentioned and pulling one out for yourself hoping it might help to calm you. With a pop, the lighter signalled it was ready, and Mary held it out to you first as he focussed on the road. You lit it carefully with a small ‘thank you’ and settled back into your seat. The first drag helped settle your nerves, the heating in the van calming the shakes you’d had too, although you weren’t sure if that had been the panic or the cold of the night. 
A few streets into the journey back to his place, you couldn’t take the quiet any longer. The awkward air between you felt so stale, icy in comparison to the warmth the van generated. As much as you wanted to relax in his presence – as he up until now had always been able to make you do – you just couldn’t. Not with the elephant in the back of the van, so to speak... 
“I’m sorry... for calling,” you mumbled, still too full of shame to be able to look at him directly, only stealing a glance from the corner of your eye. Mary took a long drag of his cigarette, flicking the ash out of the crack he’d opened in his window. He looked between you and the road, as if thinking through his response a few times.  
“You don’t have to apologise for that. I’m not one to leave a lady out in the cold...” he shrugged. He certainly wasn’t; literally or metaphorically.  
“Thank you for coming, Mary. I didn’t know where to go...” Every time you thought back to the fight with your father, fresh and hot tears would well up in your eyes. It didn’t escape Mary’s notice, and he wanted nothing more than to reach over and squeeze your hand with reassurance. Instead, he settled on trying to lighten the mood a little. Comedy always had been his defence mechanism, after all... 
“Dressed like that? I’d have said... Cinderella’s ball?” 
You scoffed, the first genuine smile he’d seen from you as you shook your head. “Shut up,” you told him.  
“You couldn’t call on the creatures of the forest to come help?” he continued, smirking when he saw your shoulders shaking in silent laughter, elbow propped up on the edge of your window. “Tinkerbell not got any pixie dust left for ya?” 
You reached over and playfully slapped his chest, earning you an ‘ouch’ and an act of feigned pain as he recoiled. But you giggled to yourself, the absurdity of it all finally hitting you. Here you were sat in your sparkly peach gown with your satin elbow gloves, high heels and fancy hairdo, cradled by Mary’s leather jacket in a beat-up van that was old enough to still have a damn cigarette lighter in the dash. Perhaps you were Cinderella... Did that make Mary your Prince Charming, or your fairy God mother? 
Now he’d heard you giggle – something he always loved hearing out of you – Mary could relax a little. There was still an awkwardness between you both, neither one of you could deny that, but the first layer of ice had been broken. For now, that would be enough. If you wanted to talk to him about what had happened when you got to his, then fine. If not, he figured that was okay too. At least he’d know you were safe and had someone by your side who cared about you; and yes, Mary could admit to himself now that he did care about you... 
Just, maybe not to you – not yet. But it wasn’t something he could exactly deny either, when he’d dropped his ‘big plans’ of getting high and demolishing a bag of snacks alone with his guitar the second he’d heard your despair. And all of that in spite of his lingering anger towards you. How quickly he’d flipped that, from wanting nothing to do with you to racing to your rescue. 
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Mary’s apartment was small, as you’d expected. As you followed him inside, you looked around. The kitchen sat directly to your left cut off by a half wall to corner it in, a couch that looked like it had seen better days backed up against that half wall and pointed at an old television. Mary’s bed was unmade and pushed up against the far-right corner, facing the bathroom that took up as much space as his kitchen did but was the only room closed off. In the way of bedroom furniture, all he had was a small nightstand and a chest of drawers that had been knocked about some...  
It seemed cosy, lived in. It wasn’t particularly tidy; a blanket strewn over the tatty couch, vinyls laying on top of his little coffee table and around his record player in the corner of his living space, guitars laying up against the wall here and there, an acoustic on his bed, pots and pans stacked up on the draining board in his kitchen – clean, but not yet put away.  
Had Mary known he was having royalty stop by, he might have tidied up a little, but this was how it looked most of the time. He didn’t spend much time at home, especially now that his band were starting to take off a little. But truthfully, he avoided being alone at all costs. He got too much thinking done alone, hence why he had his distraction methods of weed and song-writing.  
Mary scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and went to flick on a lamp by the couch. He quickly whipped around the space, picking up the strewn vinyls, straightening up the blankets. “Sorry about the mess,” he set as he jetted past you towards his bed to pick up his guitar and straighten out the blankets and pillows. You stood awkwardly in the entryway, his jacket still hanging off your shoulders as you picked at your gloves.  
“No, it’s fine, it’s not that bad,” you told him, noting the few personal belongings Mary had too; most notably the little picture frame on a windowsill by the couch. A strikingly beautiful woman, and a goofy little boy snuggled tightly in her lap. Both were grinning into the camera, the boy’s front teeth missing. You guessed that was Mary, and the woman, his mother.  
“Can I get you anything? I don’t know, a drink maybe? Or, uh...” He stood awkwardly, nervously wringing his hands and fiddling with his rings. It was so out of character for him, usually cocky and confident in everything he said or did. In a way, it was quite endearing...  
“Maybe some water, if you don’t mind...” You winced at your own request, feeling like you’d already asked for too much tonight.  
“Yeah... yeah, sure!” He jumped into action, rushing into the kitchen to fetch a clean glass from the cabinet. “Make yourself at home,” he told you, nodding towards the couch he’d just tidied. You walked towards it, draping his jacket over the arm and sitting on the edge of it, playing with your gloves until he came and sat opposite you, handing you a cold glass of water. 
You took it with a thank you, downing a third of the glass once the water hit your tongue – you hadn’t realised just how thirsty the tears and panic had made you.  
“So, um... you wanna tell me why you’re dressed like that?” Mary nodded at your dress, getting himself comfortable and ready to listen. You looked down at yourself, feeling utterly ridiculous now. This was your world... glitter, glam, sparkles; and you despised it.  
“Fancy dinner at the town hall – pompous twats and vile politicians. Mom picked this out,” you scoffed. 
“Huh,” he mused, “I mean, if it helps, you do look pretty...” he shrugged. A warmth rose to your cheeks at his compliment. “The mascara smudges are a nice touch, I think.” You laughed at that, wiping your fingertips along the underneath of your eyes and seeing the black collecting on the white satin. “So... what happened?” 
He asked you so gently, and instantly you felt safe. His gaze wasn’t judgemental, just soft. In fact, it had taken you this long to mentally note that Mary wasn’t made up with his usual faded skull paint and fake blood. His face was clean, you could see every detail. You could see every emotive line, every twitch of his expressions and a vulnerability in him that the face paint usually masked. He had a kinder face than people gave him credit for. Suddenly, you got it. He was putting on a mask every day, just like you.  
And so, you told him. You told him how you’d felt in that ballroom, looking around and seeing the real scumbags of this town. You told him about Mr. Nelson; what he’d said, what he’d done. Mary’s face hardened at that, an anger and protectiveness washing over him that had his fists balling up tightly. You told him how you’d excused yourself, and how your father had followed you to his office. Throughout, he stayed quiet, letting you speak and listening to everything you said. He’d react every so often, fetched you some tissues when the tears had started again. You told him everything, including how your father had screamed at you to follow his rules to not damage his “legacy”.  
“And I told him I didn’t want to do that anymore... I wanted to do my own thing and live for me.”  
Mary’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.  
“Shit... What did he say?” he asked, obviously knowing it hadn’t ended well.  
“Told me to get out of his office,” the tears came again, your voice raising in pitch as you tried to hold back the sobs, “that this whole town was his office. Threatened me with lawyers if I tried anything. So... I just left.” 
“He kicked you out into the street, alone, dressed like that, in the middle of the fucking night?” Mary’s anger was clear, spitting venom between clenched teeth. He couldn’t understand the nerve of your father, how he could be so damn stupid putting you in danger like that. “Fucking arrogant asshole...” 
It was clearer to him more now than ever that he’d been so wrong about you...  
He shuffled closer to you on the couch, cautiously wrapping an arm around your shoulders to comfort you in some way. Truthfully, he wanted to completely envelope you, to hold you and rock you and let you cry and sob and scream if you needed it. But it wasn’t until you lay your head on his shoulder that he felt okay to do so, finally pulling you into him to wrap his arms around you and let you cry into his chest.  
He felt so warm beneath you, his heart rate a little elevated but the thumping kept you grounded as you held onto his shirt, curling into a sparkly little ball in his side. Mary cradled your head to him, stroking your hair and whispering to you about letting go, that you were safe here. 
If he was being honest with himself, he knew how shitty he’d been to you. He’d become far too defensive too quickly, unable to see past his own injustices in his world to understand that your world came with them too. There had been signs of your confinement, of the tight leash you were kept on, but he’d wilfully ignored them, striking them off as privilege. Your bedroom alone should have been a giant red flag; how was a grown woman still sleeping in a child’s bedroom?  
“I’m sorry, doll...” he told you, muttering into your hair as his lips gently pressed to the top of your head.  
“Not on you, Mare. This has been coming for a while...” you sniffled, wiping your tears with your gloves as you snuggled into him a little further, utterly comfortable in his hold. 
“No, I mean...” Mary sighed to himself, “I’ve been an asshole. I got too defensive, thought you were just being a brat or something, y’know? I judged you and I shouldn’t have.” 
Slowly, you sat upright, turning to look at him as his arms fell to his sides.  
“You don’t have to apologise, I get it... I wasn’t exactly good to you either,” you admitted, looking down at his shirt now stained with tears to avoid his eyes. “You were right, I was treating you like I was ashamed of you.” 
Mary sat up straight, clasping his hands together as he nodded in understanding. “We’ve all got our shit, doll.” His eyes drifted to the picture on his windowsill, and you couldn’t help but follow his gaze. You saw how he clenched his jaw, fiddling with the rings on his fingers as sadness crept into his eyes. 
“Who was she?” The question slipped out before you got the chance to stop yourself. From the way Mary tensed up beside you, you could tell it was a sore spot.  
“That’s my mom,” he looked back to you, a sad smile on his face.  
“Is she...?” 
“Dead? No...” he laughed awkwardly. “But she is in a care facility. That’s just the only photo of us I’ve got.”  
You nodded in understanding, not wanting to push the matter. But Mary felt like sharing... You’d been vulnerable with him, shared your shit. Maybe he should share his too, or at least some of it. Maybe you were the only person he could be honest with. You were certainly the only person he’d wanted to get to know him in a long time.  
“She was a drinker. It got worse when my dad left, but he was a waste of fucking space anyway. We, uh, didn’t have a lot...” his eyes flickered to the battered old guitar that now leaned against the wall by his bed, “but eventually her liver kind of gave up, so she’s on dialysis for the rest of her life. She needs constant care, but she’s still with us.” 
“I’m so sorry... no wonder you thought I was just being a brat,” you laughed awkwardly, feeling a little pathetic now. 
“Like I said, we all got our shit. It's not a contest, I just... realised I wanted you to know something real about me.” 
Silence descended over you along with the weight of what he’d just admitted. Mary wanted you to know him. He wasn’t running or hiding himself from you. He’d shared something so personal to him, and you felt that it was something not a lot of people might know about him, if any. Something about you made him feel just as safe as a part of him did for you.  
You looked at him; really looked at him. There was a sadness in his eyes, something you could notice now that you were sat merely inches apart from him with his mask firmly ripped away and laying in pieces on the floor. Whatever wall he usually put up, he’d let down just for you. You felt close to him, unbelievably so. You felt an urge to protect him, defend him. You felt a pull towards him, undistinguished in its meaning but so strong you couldn’t ignore it anymore.  
And as Mary stared back at you, his wounds exposed, he too felt that same pull. Who was he kidding? He’d felt it for a while. How else would he explain being unable to go barely minutes without thinking of you over the last few weeks?  
His eyes flicked down to your lips, heart racing and mind spinning out of control. He’d never felt so exposed. He wanted to kiss you, to show you what he felt in that moment, but it scared him. He already had shared so much, feeling just as vulnerable as he had as a child.  
In your corner, the silence got heavier with every second that passed. If he was going to kiss you, you would let him. You couldn't think of a better way to show him just how much you cared, how close you felt to him; that you truly wanted him.  
Just as you thought he might lean in, he snapped out of his trance, sucking in a breath between his teeth.  
“Well, hey... you can stop here tonight. I can find you something to wear, I’m pretty sure I got something in the back,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows, “I can take you from riches to rags!”  
He slapped his thighs and stood up from the couch, marching over to the dresser by his bed and rifling through his drawers. You stayed put, thrown off by his sudden escape. From such an emotional, tender moment to him throwing that wall back up, closing up shop... You almost got whiplash from the speed at which he put the brakes on. Disappointment lay heavy in your chest.  
He came back over with a folded t-shirt and some plaid pyjama pants you could tie up to keep them on. “There’s clean cloths in the bathroom under the sink if you wanna wash up, towels if you wanna shower,” he handed you the clothes where you sat. “I’ll take the couch, you got the bed and we’ll figure out a plan in the morning.”  
“O-okay...” you stammered, standing up with the folded clothes. Frankly, you felt a little dazed from his shift in demeanour, but you could hardly blame him either. Sharing that had to have been harder than you first thought. 
You walked past him into the bathroom, locking the door and pulling on the string light to awaken the fluorescent bulb above you. Now catching a glimpse of yourself in his mirrored medicine cabinet, you saw the state of yourself. Make up smeared all over your face, streaks of black running from your eyes to halfway down your neck. They looked bloodshot and tired, staring lifelessly back at you. Your hair had fallen out of place from its fancy updo, and you looked as if you’d been dragged through a cornfield by your ankles. 
Deciding against a shower, you settled for wiping the make-up from your face and taking your hair down, attempting to detangle it with the comb you found in the medicine cabinet. You’d found a bottle of cologne in there too, which when you sniffed, smelled exactly like Mary had smelled the night he’d climbed through your bedroom window. You smiled fondly at the memory, noting how the bottle was largely untouched, still having the price tag on it which only confirmed that he’d bought it and worn it just for you. 
By the time you were done and changed into the clothes Mary had found you, Mary had made himself a makeshift bed from the blanket he’d previously folded on the couch and one of the pillows from his bed. He was already laying under it, having changed into some old shorts and removed his shirt.  
“You can put your dress on the dresser, and I can run out and grab you something to wear tomorrow so you’ve got something other than this to wear,” he called from the couch, sitting up so he could speak directly to you.  
“Thank you. I’ll get out of your hair tomorrow, I’m sure my dad just needs to calm down...” you told him. Mary couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, but also, protective. He wasn’t about to send you home to that, and he didn’t want you to feel like a burden on him either.  
“Sure, if that’s what you wanna do...” he muttered, his lips straightening into a line as he nodded. “Well... get some rest.” 
“Yeah, I will... thank you, Mary,” you told him. 
“Don’t sweat it,” he smiled, laying down on the couch and pulling the blanket over his bare shoulders. Without another word, you placed your clothes on the dresser and crawled into his bed, notably cold without him in it. Mary flicked off the lamp by the couch, plunging the apartment into mostly darkness save for the moonlight and the nearest streetlamp shining through his window. 
The same window where the picture of him and his mother sat.  
He could see it where he lay. In fact, he couldn’t look away. That smile on both of their faces reminded him of a time that was so rare. He could still hear her laughter mixing with his giggles as she’d hugged and tickled him, his grandmother who was long since gone snapping the picture on a whim.  
That little boy didn’t have many memories like that to come. He’d grown up far too soon, knowing how desperately his mother needed the help. His childhood was the two of them stuck out at sea, a hole in their boat – and Mary was the only one fishing the water out with a bucket. Eventually, it was bound to go under, so he worked harder, did everything he could to keep them afloat and yet... it wasn’t enough.  
The world had got him all wrong. When they thought he was bunking off school, he was working for a dollar an hour. When he’d been caught shoplifting, it was for a gift for his mother’s birthday. When he’d dropped out of school, it was to work every hour God sent to keep them from going hungry. When he finally did go off the rails in his late teens, it was after his mother’s liver failed. This poor, grown-up little boy had no one to look after anymore, and he’d spiralled. He was his only responsibility, but he’d never learned to care for himself – just the people around him. He always had to save them.  
Mary wiped the stray tear from his cheek, rolling over to face the back of the couch and will himself to sleep. He couldn’t tell if it was an hour or mere minutes that passed as he lay there, huddled under his old blanket on a couch that poked at his ribs under the cushions.  
“Mary...?” you whispered into the night, testing and hoping that he’d still been awake enough to hear. When he looked up, he saw you sat up in his bed, surrounded by emptiness, hugging your knees to your chest. In the dim streetlight, tear tracks sparkled on your face just like your dress.  
Before he knew what he was doing, his feet had carried him across the room. Tentatively, he sat at the edge of his bed, close enough that he could reach out and tuck your fallen hair behind your ear. Neither of you spoke; there was no need. It was obvious you needed the proximity, both vulnerable and in need of comfort.  
Mary’s eyes flicked between yours and your lips again, hesitating as his mind raced with conflicting arguments for and against giving in. He still wasn’t sure you truly wanted him. Maybe all you wanted in him was a friend, the sex having been a distraction or way to rebel. All Mary knew for sure was that you’d trusted him enough to be the one you called when you were in trouble. He didn’t want to break that trust now...  
But it was like you could see the cogs turning in his brain, the inner argument going on inside him. The battle wouldn’t be won by him alone; you were going to have to prove to him that you wanted him, that he wasn’t just your dirty little secret or some booty call. 
Slowly, you shuffled yourself closer to him, unwrapping your arms from around yourself and instead, pushing his floppy hair from in front of his face, getting a good look at him. That gorgeous face of his sat bathed in the dim light, caught between distant sadness and childlike wonder. With one last flicker down to your lips and back up to your eyes, he caught you smiling softly at him, your fingertips dancing across his jawline.  
And then finally, you leaned into him and pressed your lips gently to his. His eyes fluttered shut just as yours did, and he relaxed under your touch as if his limbs had melted. Mary, now feeling marginally more confident in where he stood, tilted his head to better sculpt his lips against yours. He was so gentle with you, his hands lifting to hold yours against his cheeks by the wrists. As the seconds passed, your lips moved together in tandem, both of you leaning into each other until he was able to wrap a hand around your waist and hold you against him, cradling each other in such a tender moment.  
This was undeniably different to any other kiss you’d shared. There was no move to advance, no desperation, no frantic arousal or rushed passion. This time, you simply held each other, seeking comfort in the affection you had for each other.  
As you parted, you rested your forehead against his, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he held you still so close to him, not yet willing to let go.  
“Stay with me tonight...?” you requested, hoping he’d have no problem with the idea. Mary just nodded dumbly, overcome with a warm desire to never let you sleep alone again. You reached around you, pulling the blankets off of your lap to welcome him into them. He climbed in beside you, resting his head on the pillows as you, without a second thought, curled into his chest and let his arms envelope you. Neither one of you wanted to be alone tonight after sharing pieces of your soul with one another.  
Exhausted from the outpouring of emotion, you were soon lulled into a deep sleep by his rhythmic heartbeat and natural warmth. Mary, although exhausted himself, was still barely awake when he felt your body go limp against him. He smiled to himself, satisfied in the knowledge that he’d given up a part of himself he was sure he’d never trust anybody with.  
And yet, the wound was still open; spinning with memories, his mind lingered on one in particular, triggered when his tired eyes had fallen on that battered and beat up old guitar against the wall. That thing served as a reminder that Mary had only ever had Mary looking out for him, and that given a choice between himself and somebody else, he would always save anybody but himself... 
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Mary waited patiently on the couch, his attention span null and void as the after-school cartoons blared on the TV set in front of him. He sat on the edge of his seat, quite literally, his feet kicking back and forth as he watched the clock. 
With the big hand on the 2, and the little hand on the 6, she’d be home any minute now. So, Mary waited as patiently as he could. 
Except, it wasn’t until the big hand had done a full circle, and the little hand was on the 7, that he heard the keys fumbling in the lock of the front door, followed by a telltale creak, and the slam of it behind footsteps.  
Mary jumped up, already on edge and over-excited. He ran into the hallway, to find his mother leaning against the wall with her eyes shut, head back against the plaster. She looked sick, her skin paled more than usual and her lips tainted with a familiar red stain.  
“Ma?” he asked, placing his little hand on her arm. Her eyes shot open, and she looked down at Mary next to her.  
“There’s my boy!” she slurred, leaning down to smother a sloppy kiss to his cheek. He wiped his cheek in childlike disgust, giggling to himself. “Happy birthday, baby!”  
She stood as upright as she could manage, bringing her purse with her while she stumbled into the living room, into the armchair Mary’s dad used to occupy that faced the TV set. Mary followed, bouncing on his feet with excitement. He’d waited all day for his mom to come home, hadn’t been able to focus in school for even a second. He stood and waited in front of her as she settled into the chair, dropping her purse in her lap.  
“Would you like your present baby?” she asked, smiling through hooded eyes that could barely focus. Mary nodded frantically, his heart pounding in his chest.  
It had been weeks since he’d spoken to his mother about the guitar he so desperately wanted. He’d spent most of his weekends at Mr. Rogers’ workshop, sweeping up wood shavings and running errands for a little bit of pocket money to help his mother save for this exact moment. He couldn’t wait any longer... 
His mother giggled, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small, square-shaped gift wrapped in balloon wrapping paper.  
For a moment, Mary was confused... But this had to be just a decoy. He remembered seeing these CDs in the music store; ‘Guitar Basics for Beginners’, audio instructive lessons that would be far cheaper than real in-person lessons.  
He tore into the paper, throwing the trash to the side and flipped the CD around to look at the front. It was an album; State of Euphoria by Anthrax. Mary’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, surprised to find it wasn’t what he’d thought.  
“That’s the band you like, right? Or... One of them,” his mother hiccupped, leaning on her elbows with a grin. 
“Y-yeah... thanks, ma.” His tone was unmistakably disappointed.  
“What’s wrong?” she asked, swiping her thumb across his cheek and pinching it lightly. Mary chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should say anything. He wasn’t one to be ungrateful, this was still a pretty great gift. Anthrax were one of the bands he had found he really loved recently. 
“No it’s great, ma, really. Thank you... It’s just,” he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, “could I get my guitar now? I read this book that teaches you about the frets and the notes of the strings, and stuff!” His words were rushed in that way over-excited children speed up the longer their sentence becomes. 
If his mother’s skin could pale any more, it did then.  
“Well, I... I couldn’t get the guitar, baby,” she told him, trying to let him down gently.  
“But... I helped Mr. Rogers? I thought we had enough?” he asked, his cheeks heating as if he were about to cry, but he didn’t want to make his mother feel bad by letting them spill.  
“I-I’m sorry, Mary... I needed to use that money...” she shrank back within herself, shame and guilt weighing on her shoulders.  
“For what?” he asked, genuinely confused, his tears building in his eyes. He was devastated... He worked so hard to get the guitar, to prove his mind was made up and he wouldn’t give up on learning it. But his mother just stared at him, her lip trembling as she saw her little boy so heartbroken. 
She knew exactly what she had spent it on; the very thing she promised she’d try and give up. 
“I... I’m s-sorry, b-baby,” she sobbed, tears spilling down her pale cheeks and her chest tightening around her breaths. She broke down, sobbing into her hands and hiding her face from the son she’d just disappointed so tragically. 
Mary wanted to be angry. It wasn’t fair... It was him who worked for that money, him who had tried so hard to help her. She was supposed to be the one adult he could count on, they were a team, weren’t they? He never asked for anything, ever. But just once, he wanted this. But she’d put her wine and God only knows what other alcohol before him again.  
He wanted to be angry. He tried to be. But his mother was hurting, she was crying, sobbing in front of him. She needed help. She was broken. She hadn’t meant to do this... right?  
Of course not. Her alcoholism had just gotten out of control, and unfortunately, addiction is a lonely and selfish ailment. Sober, her mind wouldn’t even think of doing something so selfish. But these days, she was rarely sober.  
Mary looked at his mother, crumpled up and sickly looking, weeping into her palms, and he just wanted to save her. He always wanted to save her.  
“Ma, it’s okay...” he told her, trying too hard for an 11-year-old not to cry. “Ma, don’t cry... I can keep working for one, it’s okay. I like the CD, I really do.” he squished himself between her and the arm of the chair, wrapping his arms around her and cuddling into her. She was inconsolable, sobbing so loudly she drowned out the cartoons on the TV set. She’d lost control of herself, and Mary was the only one around to pick up the pieces.  
“Shh, ma, it’s okay. It’ll be okay!” he told her, squeezing her as tightly as he could. “I’m here, don’t cry.” 
She’d screwed up big time, and whether Mary had chosen to forgive her or not, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for this. If she wasn’t already buried up to the neck in a pit of self-loathing, this was the last shovel full of cement to trap her in. 
But Mary had already decided that he’d do what he could to dig her out. She was his mother, she did everything for him that she could... why wouldn’t he help her too? 
A guitar could wait a little while longer. For now, his mother needed him – and he’d work as hard as he needed to save her.  
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224 notes · View notes
mac-and-thefox · 6 months
Note
You don’t remember me, for the angsty prompts!
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I swear you and @p1nkcanoe were on a mission to make me cry this weekend.
Mission accomplished. Have almost 1800 words of Aether/Phantom being angsty.
CW: angst, mentions of abandonment and past abuse
You Don't Remember Me?
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Aether stood on the edge of the summoning circle as the ritual was completed. Papa ceased his chanting, the smoke cleared and the glow from the sigils on the floor dimmed. He stepped towards the trembling figure on the ground and offered his hand.
“Welcome, Ghoul. I am Papa Emeritus IV. You have been summoned to help spread the message of our Dark Lord here on earth. What is your name?”
The skinny ghoul took Papa’s hand and looked up through his shaggy hair, a single violet eye glowing in the dim light of the summoning chamber. He rose unsteadily to his feet, keeping his face lowered towards the stone floor. 
He looked up at Copia, who gave him a warm smile.
“I–my name is B--…Phantom.”
Papa gestured towards Aether, who stepped forward with a warm robe to wrap around his naked form.
“Welcome, Phantom. This is Aether, our resident Quintessence ghoul. As he is retiring, you will be assuming his duties once you are ready to do so."
Aether approached the new ghoul, taking him in as he wrapped the robe around his trembling shoulders. The new quint was young, skinny; all long limbs and sharp angles. His hair was curly and fluffy, with a white streak running through the front. The young ghoul peeked through his hair at Aether and Aether blinked as he saw a a flash in the new ghoul’s revealed eye. He looked stressed, afraid.
Aether extended his hand towards Phantom, offering him a small, non-threatening smile. 
“Welcome to the Ministry. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help your transition here flow easier. You’re a part of our pack now, and we’ll do whatever we can to help you feel comfortable.”
Phantom looked at Aether’s hand, muttering something resembling thanks but declining to take Aether’s gesture of peace. Aether glanced over at Papa, who shrugged and approached the pair.
“You must be feeling tired from your summoning. Allow me and your new pack to show you to the ghoul’s den, where you can take some time to rest and recover.” 
As they made their way from the sunken chapel to the ghoul’s wing, Aether couldn’t help but feel the slight tug of uncertainty at his mind. Something about this new ghoul seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place why.
Aether felt eyes on him as they walked and looked over his shoulder. Phantom was peeking at him through his hair, but quickly looked away, dropping his eyes to his feet as he noticed Aether looking back at him. Aether couldn’t help but notice the slight clench to Phantom’s jaw as he looked away.
***
Aether stood in front of Phantom’s door, hesitating in his move to knock. It had been almost a week since the young quint’s summoning and something was just…off. Phantom had been settling in well, fully recovered. He had taken to guitar like a fish to water and showed incredible skill and promise. He was slowly coming out of his shell around the pack, preferring to keep his face hidden behind his hair as he spoke in soft tones and short replies. 
Phantom was polite, quiet and respectful. But Aether kept noticing him looking at him when he thought Aether wasnt noticing. He couldn’t help but pick up a strange energy from the young ghoul but couldn’t place his finger on what it meant or why he was feeling that way.
So here he was, knocking on Phantom’s door. 
Phantom opened the door, eye wideing as he took in Aether in his doorway. 
“Hey, can I come in? I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Phantom made an affirmative noise in his throat, stepping aside to let Aether enter.
Aether stepped across the threshold, crossing the room and sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace. Phantom stood awkwardly watching him, before sitting in the other chair, fiddling with his hands. 
Aether took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.
“How are you settling in? I know this is a lot, adjusting to being topside and everything.”
“It’s fine,” Phantom replied softly, still looking at his hands.
“Is there anything that I do to help you? I’ve noticed that you’ve been pretty quiet around everyone. Is there anything we can do to help you feel more comfortable?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Aether furrowed his brow, picking up on the slight change in the energy of the room. Deciding to just throw caution to the wind, he stepped over to the other chair, crouching down in front of Phantom.
“Are you sure? Forgive me, but I can’t help but feel that something is just…off. Is everything alright?”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Please, if theres anything I can do–”
“I SAID. I’M. FINE.” 
Aether fell back at the sudden outburst from the soft-spoken ghoul.
Phantom stood, scent giving off frustration as he began pacing in front of the fireplace, wringing his hands.
Aether stood, slowly approaching the now-distressed quint. 
“Okay, I’m sorry for push–”
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
Aether froze, blinking in confusion as Phantom stalked over to him, downcast face twisted into a grimace. 
“W-what?”
Phantom stopped in front of him, that single violet eye flashing through his black and white curls.
“I said, you don’t remember me.”
Phantom breathed out a sigh of frustration and disdain at Aether’s dumbfounded silence. 
“I was a part of your pack, in the pit.”
Aether blinked at him. That tug of familiarity in his gut had been correct, but for the life of him he could not place where he had possibly known the ghoul in front of him before, no matter how hard he tried.
“I’m sorry…I…I don’t know who you are.”
Phantom’s lip curled at the older ghoul’s confession.
“I was a kit. One of the runts who looked to you for protection before you abandoned us.”
Aether flinched at the influx memories. It was not a time he looked back on fondly. His pack in the pit lived in a very desolate area. Food and water were scarce and as such, there was a lot of fighting over resources between packs, as well as within packs. Kits that were born as runts were often left alone, neglected, not even bothered to be given names because of their low chances of survival. Aether, being kind as well as one of the stronger ghouls in the pack, had taken to protecting the small groups of runts that resided on the outskirts of his pack’s territory; bringing them food when he could and protecting them from abuse from his packmates.
Phantom stepped closer, pushing his hair out of his face for the first time to reveal what was hidden underneath. Aether gasped at the sight. 
Twisted, scarred skin covered the left side of Phantom’s face. Deep, angry red lines ran from his hairline to his cheek, twisting his eyelid that sat almost non-existent over his eye, milky white and unseeing. Phantom stood, tears gathering and running down his face as Aether gaped at the sight before him, stomach twisting with distress.
“You protected me, you kept me alive. You were the only one who was ever kind to me, and you left. You gave me a name…I was your Babybat…” Phantom choked out a sob on the name.
Aether pinned his ears back and whined low in his throat at the name, recognition hitting him like a bolt of lightning. 
Suddenly he was back in the Pit again, in that little nest in the alcove where he brought the runts to protect them from the others when the fighting and conflict was particularly brutal. He could see in his mind a small, inquisitive kit. One who showed spirit despite his frail health and weak body. One with dark fluffy hair with a striking white streak…..
Aether let out a sob as the memories finally locked in. He fell to his knees at Phantom’s feet, tears flowing freely as he clutched at his horns and hair.
Phantom gripped Aether’s horn and pulled head back to face him.
“We needed you. We needed you to protect us. You were our only chance for survival. How could you leave us??”
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…please..forgive me” Aether sobbed.
“How could I possibly forgive you? You left us behind to die. I was the only one to survive and get away from those monsters.”
Phantom stepped back, releasing Aether’s horn and running his hands through his head, sighing heavily.
“When you disappeared, I waited for you to come back. I hoped, against all odds that wherever you had gone, you would come back for me, you would take me with you.”
“I have lived my entire live alone, fighting, or in hiding. When I was summoned, when I saw you in that chamber, I prayed so hard that you would at least recognize me, but you didn’t say a fucking word.” Phantom spat the last words out, malice and anger being replaced with heartbreak and sadness. 
He collapsed back into his chair, burying his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as sobs escaped his thin body.
Aether moved slowly over to the young ghoul. He could feel the vast ocean of pain, of sadness and loneliness born from years of abuse and solitude. He took a breath, wiping his tears on the back of his palm as he knelt and took one of Phantom’s hands in his larger one.
“I never wanted to leave you. I didn’t have any control over my summoning, but I cannot imagine what you and the others went through. Nothing I can say will ever truly make up for it, but I am so..so sorry.”
Aether reached up, cupping Phantom’s cheek in his palm, wiping away tears with his thumb. Phantom sniffled, lids heavy with unshed tears. He flinched at the soft touch, moving his head to cover the scarred side of his face with his hair once again, a flush of shame and embarrassment spreading across his cheeks to the tips of his pointed ears.
Aether’s heart ached at the realization that Phantom being here was probably the first kind interactions and physical touch he had experienced since Aether’s summoning..since he had abandoned him.
“Phantom…Babybat...I promise you. This place, this pack, this is your family now. Papa is kind, he cares so much for us. We protect each other here. We will rip anyone who wishes to harm you limb from limb.” 
“I swear on the seven Lords below that I..we..are never going to let anybody hurt you ever again.”
179 notes · View notes
alwaysjustmina · 1 month
Text
Whispers of Rain
Chapter 14: And I don't want to get in your way
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My thanks as always go out to the following:
@kamonart the artwork for this story (check them out on IG
@papaslittlesunshine for her amazing editing skills, any mistake are always clearly mine. Check her out on Tumblr or her stories on ao3! If you need recs, let me know!!
Lastly @midnight-moth on Tumblr and IG, for always listening to my depraved raindrop thoughts and trying to guide me back to sanity. Check all their work out on AO3, if you haven't read Kilonova, what are you even doing?
Read below or here
With his eyes squeezed tightly shut, Dew knew this couldn’t be real. He tried to slow his breathing to keep pace with the ticking of the clock he could hear, willing his heartbeat to decelerate. If he didn’t open his eyes, he could stay in this vague awareness, between the dark and light. Between knowing if Rain was alive or dead. He could feel the tears slip past his clenched eyes. When he thought of Rain, he felt the panic starting to rise in his chest. He needed to just open his eyes, deal with whatever had happened. He continued to will himself to just give him one more moment, one more second in this ignorant bliss.
He felt a body next to him, a hand reaching out to take his own that was clenched in the sheets. Warmth slowly registered that the hand next to him wasn’t the cold realization that death offered. The puff of air that breathed along his neck, had his eyes snapping open.
The sight before him made him gasp, the other eyes meeting his, disrupted out of half sleep. The smile that quirked the corners of his mouth up before noticing the tears falling from Dew’s eyes, his sobs not able to be quieted any longer.
“Dew?” Rain asked softly.
He raised his one hand not holding onto Dew’s hand to brush the tears falling down from his cheeks. Dew leaned into his touch, pushing his face into the palm of his hand. He couldn’t answer him, his voice lost to the pain of the dream.
Rain seemed to understand something had happened, he didn’t push, just gripped Dew’s hand tighter, his smaller grip encompassed in Rain’s larger. He wanted to pull him closer, to encircle him in his embrace, but he knew that Dew had to reach, Dew had to be the one to reach out for him. He would wait. He would wait forever if necessary.
Rain’s hand grounded Dew in the quiet light of the morning. They didn’t speak, they watched the other, eyes caressing where hands hadn’t in so long as the dawn broke the sky, streaming sun across the bed, landing across Rain’s face, Dew’s dull locks shining in the morning sun.
As Dew calmed down further he found himself pressing himself into the quiet solace that Rain offered, molding their bodies together once again. Dew’s head under Rain’s chin, arm around the waist, legs entwined in a resemblance of gnarled tree branches that have forged together over years, if not centuries, unable to bear being separated.
Rain’s hand found Dew’s hair, brushing it back from Dew’s face gently, running his fingers through it. He missed this quiet between them, these moments that they had fought so hard for over the last year.
“Please don’t leave me,” Dew mumbled so quietly that Rain had to question if he heard him correctly.
“Never, I will always be here for you, my Otter. I will always find a way to be near to you, I will always come for you.”
Dew pulled back from their tight embrace to look into Rain’s eyes, maybe to check the validity of his words, not believing himself worth it. Rain watched the heart wrenching thoughts pass over Dew’s eyes, making sure to offer him a smile and to pour all the love he had for him to show in his eyes, in his face, in his caress. He watched the tears continue to fall silently down his face.
“Please don’t cry over thinking I will ever leave you Dew, that is the last thing you need to worry about.”
Dew’s face softened at Rain’s admission, finally believing a small fraction of what he was saying. He knew they needed to talk about everything that happened, he needed to tell Rain his fear. He knew these things, but he just wanted to exist in this moment, they had time.
Rain whispered over and over again how much he loved him as he held Dew in his tight embrace. Dew found himself nuzzling into Rain’s neck, inhaling his scent, placing small kisses along his pulse, without realizing what he was doing. When the two of them were alone together their bodies automatically sought the other out. It was natural, destined. Rain placed kisses along Dew’s cheek and forehead.
They moved to look at each other again, and Dew found himself making the first move. He pushed forward slowly, his eyelids lowered, watching the plush lips before him. He knew when Rain realized what he was he was doing by the sharp puff of air he emitted from his mouth.
“You sure?” Rain asked before their lips met.
Dew didn’t answer, he pressed his mouth to Rain’s. A chaste kiss, pressed together in a silent moment. He felt Rain’s lips twitch into a smile as they were pressed together. He could feel Rain’s hand that was holding his grip the slightest bit harder. The other arm that were wrapped around each other, he felt both of their flesh rise in goosebumps, electricity flowing between their limbs to the other.
It wasn’t a heated kiss by far, both knowing that they wouldn’t take it further. It felt like the first time they touched, the first glance, the first admission of love. It felt like hope, that maybe everything would be ok. Dew wanted to forget everything that happened and just exist the rest of eternity in Rain’s embrace, with the knowledge that they loved each other.
When they finally pulled apart, they exchanged a sigh of contentment and smiled at the other.
“I love you too, my Selkie, always.” Dew breathed out.
They held each other the rest of the morning, until they heard the others start to move in the house. The sound of life, breaking them from this moment of contentment. Knowing they needed to face the day and start to plan for Ifrit’s demise and the eventual thought of going home and starting to heal.
They slowly let go of the other, arms unraveling, bodies moving apart, fingertips the last to touch as they made their way from the bed. Their eyes never left the other as they moved around the room trying to piece together clothes for the day. They only stopped staring when the other stepped into the bathroom to clean up. The one not in the shower waiting outside, standing by the door, the thought of being apart unbearable. When they came back together their hands found the others again. Their fingers entwined, speaking the thoughts that they both couldn’t say out loud yet.
**************************************************
“Rain, that is a dumb idea,” Eidolon shouted from beside Aether.
Rain sighed deeply in exasperation, would Eidolon ever give him a break? Would he ever stop fighting him? He was absolutely grateful to him for being with Dew and getting him through Ifrit’s torture, offering his friendship (he was not going to think about that kiss that he witnessed between the two of them, he was not), but he secretly wished he could punch him sometimes.
Calm, Rain, calm, he thought to himself not for the first time this morning. Rain had Dew’s hand in his beneath the table, his thumb caressing the others mindlessly. He was trying to ignore the fact that after their quiet morning, he found Dew and Eidolon huddled in a corner in the kitchen whispering quietly to one another, Eidolon’s hand on Dew’s arm. Rain wondered if Dew had shared what had made him cry this morning with Eidolon, and he tried his hardest to cut off those thoughts, he had his time with Dew this morning. Dew would share everything with Rain when he could, he knew he would, but fuck if it didn’t kill something inside of him when he found the two of them together again. As soon as Dew saw Rain enter the kitchen he disentangled himself from Eidolon with a quiet, “I will be fine, thank you,” and a squeeze to his hand before walking over and greeting Rain.
“And what is your idea?” He asked back, as neutrally as possible. He would make an effort for Dew. Eidolon was his friend.
“I wouldn’t ask him to meet me somewhere, that’s for sure, the only way you will be able to get him is to do it by surprise. Otherwise he will be prepared and will do every dirty thing in the book to end you. How can you be that stupid?” Eidolon seethed.
“Eidolon!” Dew and Aether’s voices raised in surprise at the same time, shock evident on both of their faces.
Calm, Rain, calm.
Eidolon didn’t stop though, “Why would you put Dew in this position, of Ifrit destroying you, killing you? Why don’t you care what you do to him?”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Well that wasn’t calm, was it?
“You are a fucking idiot, that is my problem. You are going to get not just yourself killed, but all of us when your oh so brilliant plan fails, including the one you supposedly love.”
Rain could feel himself gritting his teeth inside his mouth, grinding them together as he tried to remain calm and not fly across this table in the rage he felt inside his entire being. How fucking dare he? Who the hell did he think he was to question his love for Dew? Calm.
“What, you think you can come up with something better?”
“Absolutely, at least my plan wouldn’t get Dew killed. At least it seems like I may be the only one of us concerned with that between you and me.”
Rain quickly rose from his chair, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” He gripped the wooden frame so hard he knew he was leaving claw marks on the wood.
Eidolon rose from his chair, as well, “You know damn well what that is supposed to mean!”
Aether and Dew looked at each other across the table, not knowing how to diffuse the situation.
“Maybe we should take a breath?”
“Hey, let’s all calm down.”
Aether and Dew spoke at the same time, addressing the person by their side. Neither were listening though.
They tried.
Failed.
“You think you can take care of him better than I can? Is that what this is, Eidolon?”
Eidolon scoffed, “What surprises me, Rain, is that you don’t think the same thing.”
“Oh, cause you did so well protecting him while you were both with Ifrit?”
“Where the hell were you Rain? It was months he was there. All I heard is he stabbed you once or twice, I would have dragged myself from my deathbed to Dew’s side, but no, poor little Rain had to rehabilitate.”
It hit a little too close to home, Eidolon’s words. He knew he failed Dew, he should have been here sooner. The defeat of what Eidolon said, evident on his face clearly.
“Even you think this, Rain, just look at yourself, you know you aren’t anyone’s savior. You play the biggest victim here out of everyone.”
Rain’s mouth hung open as Eidolon continued.
“If Dew finds comfort in my embrace, why would you stop him from seeking it out? You say it is all about Dewdrop, but you continue to make it about you, begging him to not seek me out at night to calm his fears.”
Eidolon continued, “You know your the reason he is here, Ifrit had some kind of vendetta against you, your the reason it got so bad. He wouldn’t have tortured Dewdrop if it wasn’t for you. I heard the things he said to Dew when he was-”
“Eidolon, stop!” Dew shouted, but it wasn’t enough.
Eidolon continued, not missing a breath, “hurting him, hurting him in ways you can’t even fathom. He always made sure to bring you up. Tell me, was it about Dew, or did bring this on him?”
The room suddenly was too quiet, all the air drawn out of the space they were in. Rain couldn’t hear anything, the sound of the wildlife outside had ceased playing on the waters edge, the light had slipped behind the clouds, the ticking of the clock stopped.
He had told him. Dew had told Eidolon. He told him what he had asked him for the other night. He told him.
Maybe Eidolon was right, maybe it was all him? Did he cause this for Dew? How much had things changed since they were together? He never thought Dew would share a private conversation with anyone else. The devastating realization of the bond he now understood Dew had with Eidolon, shattered the hope he felt grow in his chest this morning. He couldn’t look at Dew, he couldn’t look at any of them. He found himself pulling away from the table, removing his hands from the chair, slipping his hand out from under Dew’s that had been placed on top of his.
“Maybe you are right, I will rethink my plans and share it with the group when I make my decision.” He slipped out of the silent room, passing through the house and out the front door, he needed to take a walk. He needed out of there before he broke down in front of them all and it gave Eidolon more fuel to torment him with. He didn’t hear as Dew called out to him, lost in his own thoughts and misery. The words Eidolon had shouted repeating in his head over and over.
Dew stared at Eidolon across the table, he watched his friend's body heaving in anger as he spewed the words Dew had confided in him in private. He knew why Eidolon was doing this, this was his fault. He hadn’t made his feelings clear. Fuck if he even knew exactly what he felt. Rain didn’t deserve his vitriol though, Dew did.
When he heard the door shut behind Rain, he spoke up, “Why would you say that to him?”
“Cause it is the truth.”
“Phan-I mean, Eidolon, you don’t know what it was like at the abbey the last few months either, that wasn’t fair to say to Rain.” Aether said quietly from his side.
“I don’t care, he is an idiot.”
“Eidolon, stop, he isn’t an idiot.” Dew’s voice raising in agitation.
“Yes, he is. You deserve better.”
“STOP. I will not listen to this again.”
“Dew, you know I am-”
“Eidolon, seriously, I am not listening to this anymore right now. I need you to stop.” Dew walked away from the table.
He wandered through the house, finally sitting in the glassed in sunroom, his thoughts consuming him. He waited for Rain for hours to return, but eventually the light outside dimmed and he found himself falling asleep in the chair, once again wishing he had never fallen for Ifrit all those years ago. It would have solved so many things.
Rain returned many hours after leaving the house to the quiet house, Aether sitting at the table in the kitchen by himself. He found himself asking where the others were, Aether said Eidolon was in his room and Dew was in the sunroom waiting for Rain to return.
He wiped his hand over his face in exhaustion before sitting across from Aether. Weren’t they just here a few days ago, was that a week or two ago? He couldn’t remember anymore. He saw Aether itching to say something to him about the earlier conversation, but before he could speak he told him he had a plan.
“I want to leave as soon as possible, Eidolon was right that we need to do this as quickly and quietly as possible.”
“We should get both of them and tell them the plan.” Aether knew Rain was getting ready to do something stupid even as he said this, like not to tell the other two they were going.
“No, I think it is better we go now, I just need to get some things, give me a half an hour.”
“Rain, this is a mistake, you need to talk to Dew.”
“I don’t want to hear it Aether, I just want to get this done so we can get hi-I mean them, back to the abbey and safe.”
He rose from the table to take care of the last few things before they left.
Aether found himself outside of Eidolon’s room, pushing his door open silently. He laid on his bed fast asleep. In sleep, it was easy for Aether to forget all the years between the last time he saw him. Phantom was curled on his side, clutching the other pillow on the bed between his arms, his hair sticking in all directions. He wished he could wake him, but he sat there watching him for as long as he could before they left. He wanted to tell him, he knew how hard it was. He knew that Eidolon was in love with Dew, he knew what he faced with that feeling. He wanted to tell him Rain was a good person, that he loved Dew with his entire being, not to fault their feelings for the other. Not to lose sight of his friendship with Dew. He didn’t have to give up his love of Dew because he loved Rain, Dew had enough love for him too. He didn’t need to fight with Rain over who loved Dew more.
He wanted to run his hand through Eidolon’s wild hair and remind him of their youth together, of the happiness they shared in their family home. The two of them running wild through the fields, practicing their powers, watching the starlight they created together. How sorry he was that Ifrit used Eidolon to get to Aether. He wished he could send Eidolon home to their family, but there was no one there any longer, it was just the two of them.
He knew that time was drawing near, he rose from the edge of the bed, bending down to kiss Phantom’s forehead and whisper from the door to the sleeping form, that he would be back soon and that he loved him, his baby brother.
They had time, he would make sure he knew how much love he had for him, how much love their family had had for them.
Rain and Aether slipped from the house silently, starting the car and driving into the dark night by themselves away from the two people that they loved the most in the world.
When Dew woke later that night from the sound sleep he had on the chair he stumbled from the room to see if Rain had returned. The kitchen was empty, the house locked. He went to their bedroom to find it empty of the other ghoul, but he found on the bed a packet laying on the covers. There were many envelopes wrapped with twine, all addressed to him with a note on top.
My love,
I am sorry you will find this and not me here, but I need to do this. I have needed to do this from the day I first saw what Ifrit was doing to you.
I am sorry I am leaving without waking you, walking out on you in the dark of night, but I knew you would insist on coming and this was something you didn’t need to see, to face again.
I walked for hours in the woods, thinking about us, thinking about how I could make our new lives easier on you. I want you to be happy, safe, beyond anything else. I am so sorry if I made you ever feel anything less. You are my entire world, my other half, the one I love. I won’t give up on our love, but if you can’t find happiness with me again, I will let you go. I only want your happiness, that is the only thing that matters to me.
I thought about you every day we were apart, my only thought was to get back to you. Eidolon was right, it took too long, I failed you once again. I should have been faster. I will take care of Ifrit though so you can live in peace knowing he will never hurt you again.
I have attached my letters I wrote to you while we were apart. I hope they prove to you, that you were all I thought about, that maybe I am deserving of your love somehow.
I brought them in hopes we could open them together, but I think this may be better. You can read them if you want. You can decide. I didn’t realize how much we both would have changed while apart. I guess I am the idiot Eidolon said I was.
Forever yours,
I will love you forever, Selkie, if that makes me more of an idiot, so be it.
I will return in a few days and we can go home. I promise I will get you home and take care of this monster for you.
Rain
Rain, what did you do?
Authors note: the letters Rain left with Dew look like this (thanks to @jazz-bazz )
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iamthecomet · 7 months
Note
i will offer you my firstborn child for a new ghoul focused fic about him being praised about insecurities. i find comfort in my favs having the same issues as me, so the idea of him not really liking his body but being praised for it is just so good to me
I don’t know if this is exactly what you were looking for. But I blacked out and wrote 1k of Aeon/Dew angst/comfort. ♥ No smut (but it's implied). Just Aeon being insecure and Dew having none of it.
Aeon feels….wrong. The galaxy that is his existence shoved into this…the other called it a vessel. He thinks prison is a better word. They keep telling him he'll get used to it. Used to looking in the mirror and seeing…this. Whatever it is.
Dark skin splotched with swirling galaxies. Freckles like stars dotted over the pale spots. The brilliant white stripe of hair that keeps falling over his too dark eyes.
The horns and tail, at least, are familiar. Horns sharp and nearly iridescent. Shimmering black. His tail, dark as the night sky, curls around his forearm. The spade tapping against his ever rapid pulse. He fiddles with the waistband of his pants. Tightens the belt. He's always been small, but he feels his size so much more acutely here. He feels bigger--his personality dictates it. But next to Aether he looks like a kit.
The mechanical lock in the door hums. Clicks. It swings open to reveal Dew, shouldering it open as he stumbles through the small opening. Cheeks flushed, golden hair pulled back into a messy bun. Boots untied.
Dew looks up at Aeon as he closes the door--harder than necessary. Dew leans back against it, a little out of breath. His eyes glued to Aeon's body.
Aeon thinks about asking where he's been--what they all did after the show when they got together and Aeon retreated back to the room claiming an imaginary headache. But he doesn't think he actually wants to know. Doesn't really want to hear about whatever dive bar they found tonight. Or who Dew fucked in a sticky bathroom.
Dew reeks of cigarettes. Stale beer. Aeon crinkles his nose, drags his eyes away from the fire ghoul and back to the mirror. Meeting his own eyes. Still startled by himself. By the way the scars from the pit have translated onto this body.
Dew pushes away from the door and Aeon watches him move. Toe off his boots, shrug off his jacket. Dew has his t-shirt halfway off when he finally talks. Voice muffled by cotton.
"Checking yourself out, huh?"
Aeon winces. He could lie. Say yes. That would be the end of it. But he finds himself shaking his head before he can stop himself.
"I'm not--that doesn't look like me."
Dew tosses his t-shirt across the room when he finally gets it off. He blows hair out of his mouth. Meeting Aeon's eyes in the mirror. He moves closer, stalks is a better word for the way Dew walks. Aeon still isn't used to it. Being the singular focus of Dew's attention is still a little intense. Dew stops right behind him.
Close up the cigarette smell isn't as bad as Aeon thought. He can smell Dew underneath it. Cinnamon, woodsmoke, autumnal in a way that makes Aeon wish for fall. They're almost the same size. Aeon's a little bigger but he doesn't feel that way. He feels minuscule under the weight of Dew's gaze.
Dew catches his eye in the mirror, brow furrowing. "What were you expecting?"
It's a hard question, one Aeon almost chokes on. He doesn't know how to answer it. Taller maybe, broader, like Aether. Like other Quint ghouls even though he's always been little. Smooth, even skin. Lighter eyes. Something else--not this.
He doesn't answer, the words don't come. Dew reaches out. Traces overwarm fingers over one of the lighter patches of Aeon's skin. Thumb dragging over the galaxy of freckles, the endless array of colors.
"I don't know what you see when you look at yourself," Dew says slowly, like he's testing the waters. "But I think it's different than what I see when I look at you."
"Which is what?"
Dew huffs out a laugh, breath tickling Aeon's ear. Dew's hand slips lower, over his chest. "You're so fucking pretty."
Aeon's cheeks heat. He drags his eyes away from Dew's, looks down over the flat plane of his chest. Dews fingers ghosting over his collarbone. Feather light.
"You don't have to lie to me."
Dew goes rigid behind him. His fingers go still on Aeon's chest. The other hand snakes around his waist, presses flat to Aeon's stomach. An iron grip.
"Look at me."
Aeon raises his eyes to Dew's in the mirror.
"No," Dew snaps, "look at me."
He forces himself to turn his head, to look at Dew for real. Flesh and blood only inches from his face.
"Why the fuck do you think I'm lying to you?"
Aeon shrugs. "I…look at me..I'm not--"
"Shut up," Dew says, eye roll iminant. Aeon opens his mouth to protest but Dew keeps talking, cutting him off. Molten eyes fixed on his. Aeon had noticed before--but the center of Dew's eyes hints toward blue. Copper, oxidized. "You're exactly the way you're supposed to be. So fucking pretty I can't stand to look at you sometimes. Makes me insane."
"I--"
"I know how it feels to look in the mirror and not see yourself. But fuck Aeon, I don't know what you were expecting, but you're wrong. This is better than anything you were hoping for."
"Wrong? It's an opinion."
"Yeah. A wrong one. Looking at you is like looking at the sky on a clear night. You're the fucking milky way."
Aeon's words fail him. Protests dying on his tongue. Heart swelling. Something that feels like a sob threatening to break free in his chest. If Dew's lying--he's damn good at it. Aeon sees nothing in that angular face but devotion. It's overwhelming, he could drown in it. Maybe he wants to.
Dew tips his head forward, leans his forehead against Aeon's. Horns bumping. Breath mingling.
"Come to bed," Dew whispers, "I'll show you how much I mean it." Aeon's body is filled with light. Warmth. Static. He thinks he should nod, should let himself be led away, worshipped the way Dew's eyes are promising. He reaches up instead, drags his fingers over the sharp line of Dew's cheekbone. Dew leans into his touch, eyes fluttering closed.
"You want me," Aeon whispers, an impossibility. Dew nods, nuzzling against his hand.
"Yeah, dumbass, I do."
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atmosghoul · 8 months
Note
Just discovered Rain & Aether being very sexy in your fic. I mean?!?! This was so…. hot?
“You started this, now I’m gonna finish it.”
… well… does he? What does he do? 👀😏
Oh boy,,,I hadn’t planned on finishing that buuttttt then I got this ask and I just,,,they consumed me ok I literally wrote this during breaks at work ON MY WORK WIFI SO UH YEA HERES HOPIN THEY DONT TRACK EVERYTHING
NSFW under the cut!
Continuation of this
Rain isn’t sure how long they’ve been here.
When did they move to a bed? Is this his bed or Aether’s?
Either way all Rain can think of right now is the sheets balled up in his fist and Aether’s mouth, warm and wet on his aching cock.
“Please, Aeth,” Rain whines. Even he’s not really sure what he’s pleading for. For aether to stop? To get closer?
Aether takes his mouth off of Rain and runs a hand up the water ghouls stomach lightly scratching his claws along the way to the lean throat where he gives a gentle squeeze.
“Please what?” Aether admonishes, sliding his hand up to grip Rain’s jaw, forcing the water ghoul to make eye contact.
Rain keens and grips Aether’s arm with both hands, nails digging into the larger ghoul’s arm.
“Sir!” He gasps. “Please sir, I can’t- too much, please.”
How many orgasms had Aether ripped out of him? He’d lost count. Surely Aether knows. He always keeps count. Loves to see how far he can push his partner, test the limits.
“You can and you will. Like i said, you started this and I’m finishing it. Finishing you,” Aether’s gaze travels to Rain’s hands.
“And what did I say about your hands?”
Rain quickly moves his hands back to the sheets mumbling an apology and looking away from Aether’s dominating stare.
Aether groans, giving a mischievous smile.
“Hmmm good boy. But, that’s two more for disobeying.”
Rain whines, high pitched and broken and Aether chuckles.
“Please, sir,”
Aether simply glides back down to Rain’s leaking cock harshly kissing and sucking various spots on Rain’s already marked torso along the way.
Aether takes Rain’s cock in one hand and grips the base tightly before teasing the angry purple head, languidly circling it around his tongue like a popsicle. Rain gives a full body shudder already so close to another orgasm. Then Aether takes him fully in his mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of the quintessence ghoul’s throat. Rain screams as another orgasm rips through him.
“You’re doing so well, my little Rainbow.”
Rains exhales a shaky breath mumbling a ‘Thank you, sir’
“One more and then your punishment is over alright?”
Rain nods as his eyes drift closed.
“Words, princess,”
“Y-yes sir. Please,”
Rain braces himself for his cock to be abused once more but nearly cums again when he feels Aether’s large fingers prodding at his dripping entrance.
Rain arches off the bed but is quickly pushed back down by Aether’s hand splayed over his stomach.
“Still,” Aether says firmly not even looking up at Rain. His eyes are transfixed on where his fingers are now pressing into Rains hole so slowly. Too slowly.
Then Aether all but swallows his cock whole again. Only half hard now but the pleasure is white hot all the same. Rain takes deep breaths through his nose trying to keep centered. He feels like he might pass out from the overstimulation.
Aether’s fingers continue to work Rain open as he holds Rain’s cock in his mouth working his tongue lazily in time with his fingers. The quintessence ghoul feels half mad at how wet rain is. Fucking water ghouls.
He’s got two fingers in Rain and is poised to add a third when Rain arches off the bed again, hands never leaving their position in the sheets as another orgasm rips through him. Aether sits up and removes his fingers from Rain.
“Someone’s sensitive,” he chuckles darkly as he moves to lean over Rain and gently pushes the water ghoul’s hair from his face.
Rain closes his eyes and leans into Aether’s touch and hums out a shaky breath as a kiss is pressed to his forehead. A gesture too sweet and gentle for what Aether is about to do.
Aether’s hand cards through Rains hair before gripping a fistful of the dark waves and Rain’s eyes shoot open with a cry as Aether shoves into him with one hard thrust.
Aether stills inside Rain and leans down to enclose the water ghoul in his arms.
“So tight and wet for me,” Aether mumbles as he leans into Rain and begins kissing and sucking at his neck.
Aether pulls out almost all the way before slowly sliding back in all the way and starts a leisurely pace of deep slow thrusts making Rain feel every inch of his cock.
“Satanas you feel so good,” Aether growls low in Rains ear as he starts to thrust faster and harder.
“Gonna make you take my fucking knot.”
Rain is being jolted with the force and is using every ounce of self awareness left to keep his hands on the sheets like a good princess. He has to be good.
Aether leans back and grabs Rain’s thighs, pushing his legs back to change the angle and Rain starts seeing stars.
Then Rain feels Aether’s knot hitting his entrance with every thrust threatening to go in. He moans a loud high pitched whine and Aether answers with a growl as he leans over Rain again caging him in with his large arms.
“You gonna be a good little slut and take my knot? Huh?”
Words escape Rain. All thoughts in his head are simply of Aether and his massive knot about to push fully in.
“Please, please Sir breed me please knot me please,” Rain babbles now looking like not much more than a rag doll as Aether roughly ruts into him.
It only takes a few more harsh thrusts for it to pop past the ring of sensitive muscle. The pleasure and pain of Aether’s knot is so intense Rain’s brain goes even more fuzzy which he didn’t think was possible. He goes completely limp as he gives up trying to do anything other than just taking Aether’s cock and huge knot.
“That’s right, princess come on my cock squeeze my knot,”
Aether moans more than says. “You can do it, gimme one more. Cum one more time for me, you can do it i know you can.”
Rain’s eyes roll back in his head and Aether yells out as Rain’s orgasm sends him crashing into his own.
The last thing Rain remembers before blacking out is the feeling something hot and sticky on his stomach and a sudden empty feeling below his waist.
He comes to with big strong arms wrapped around him and fingers gently carding through his shaggy hair still damp with sweat.
“Welcome back, Rainbow,” Aether mumbles into the water ghoul’s hair.
Rain shifts and looks up at Aether. The look in his eyes tells Aether he’s not fully coherent again yet.
“You alright? Need anything?” Aether asks, hand moving from Rains hair to his face to gently cup his cheek.
“‘M thirsty,” Rain mumbles soft and sweet.
“Well luckily for you, I am always prepared,” Aether chuckles as he reaches behind him to the bedside table and retrieves and bottle of water.
He has Rain sit up and helps the water ghoul drink from the bottle before replacing the cap and setting it aside.
“Get back in here,” Aether says repositioning himself to lay back down with arms open waiting for Rain to nuzzle against his chest again. Rain does and Aether holds him close as they both begin to drift off.
“Sorry for interrupting your reading,”
Rain mumbles sleepily, his voice muffled slightly by Aether’s chest.
The quintessence ghoul chuckles.
“It’s alright, Raindrop. Book was kind of boring me anyway.”
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fruityrituals · 7 months
Text
inked & marked
swiss ghoul x fem reader
summary: swiss acts on his feelings about a new tattoo you got dedicated to the ghouls
cw: explicit, unprotected sex, breeding, bondage, breath play, oral, blood, mask kink
(18+) / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Ghost Masterlist
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(divider below from @cafekitsune) | pics above from pinterest
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Today is the first time in a while that you have a lot of alone time. The ghouls and papa have been on a break from tour for a couple months now and today they've started doing practices since tour starts again in a couple weeks. You had no idea what to do with your day without the multi-ghoul. After cleaning your’s and Swiss’ room, doing some chores around the ministry, and giving yourself bangs, you look at yourself in the mirror after a shower and look over all your tattoos and decide that its time for a new one. The last few months, you have been thinking about getting a tattoo dedicated to the current Ghost era since they would be changing a lot of things soon and you want to have some type of permanent memory since you met Swiss in their current era. You get a tattoo of the ghouls helmet on your hip and once you get home, you strip down staying in just your black lace thong and bra with your knee high socks and laid in bed listening to music waiting for Swiss to get back. You know your ghoul and know that this tattoo will get some type of reaction out of him.
Swiss gets home about an hour later walking through the door of your room still dressed in his helmet and stage clothing as he says “i really need a bath i’m very sweaty and smelly and i-”. He pauses when he sees you in the bed in your lace. He quickly shuts the door behind him and quietly walks over to the bed. You were laying on your stomach with headphones on and reading a book so you don’t hear him come in. He observes your body as he starts to undo his vest, then tilts his head when his eyes reach the new tattoo. When he notices you don’t know he’s there, he lets his tail come around, caress your tattoo, then the tip of his tail slaps your ass. You jolt and turn around quickly looking up at Swiss with a hand over your chest “you scared the shit out of me!”. Swiss points at the tattoo as he keeps his eyes on it and says “whats that?”. You grin looking from him, to the tattoo, then back up at him “a little memory of the era i met you in, also to show my love for all of you guys. you like it?”. Swiss grins under his helmet as he takes off his vest and starts undoing his shirt taking that off too leaving him in hit helmet, pants and boots “undo my pants” he says as he looks down at you on the bed. You quickly crawl over to the edge of the bed in front of him as you run your hands down his torso first then undid his belt. Swiss was already bulging beneath the fabrics and it doesn’t take you long to eagerly undo his pants letting his dick spring out. You bite your lip looking up at him as you watch his chest rise and fall, “suck”. You grinned wrapping a hand around his length and place your other hand on his thigh as you spit on his tip before you start stroking his cock. He immediately moans knocking his head back as his tail comes around and wraps around your neck. You swirl your tongue on the tip and then take him into your mouth hitting the back of your throat each time as he moans out “fuck, such a good girl” as his tail tightens around your neck. You guys have safe words and gestures if you ever need him to stop, but if you couldn’t speak, your gesture was tapping his thighs, so he puts both your hands in his thighs as he wraps your hair in his fists and thrusts into your mouth taking all of him until you’re gagging on him. His tail wraps tighter around your neck until the edge of your vision starts tunneling and your head becomes hazy. After a couple more thrusts and his tail tightening, tap both his thighs with your hands 3 times and he loosens his tail and releases your head quickly pulling you up into his arms. He kisses your neck as you catch your breath and let you vision come back to you.
Once he hears your breathing evened out, he shoves you on your back onto the bed and quickly rips off your panties. You adjust yourself so your hips are half way off the edge of the bed as you watch him kick off his boots and the rest of his clothes, he then pulls off his helmet and he had a smirk on his face as he places the helmet on your head and secures the buckle under the chin since it was too big for you. You grin up at him then bite your lip as he gets on his knees beside the bed. His tail comes around and runs along your tattoo on your hip and around your pelvis then to your clit making you jolt and let out a soft whine. Swiss lines up his cock to your entrance slowly pushing into you as you drop your head back letting out a relieved moan. He grips your hips with both hands making you flinch as he sinks inside of you all the way to the hilt. Swiss only give you 10 seconds to adjust before he grunts and starts thrusting inside of you. He takes one hand off of the tattooed hip trailing his hand up and down your body then up to your neck wrapping his hand around it. You start to sweat already with the helmet on and you cant see him that well because it doesn’t fit you right. His tail is rubbing against your sensitive bud as he thrusts into you “you look so hot with my helmet on baby while you’re taking my cock like such a good girl”. His praises and the pace of his cock ramming into you combined with his tail working your clit sends your head tilting back causing you to arch your back and moan out his name.
Swiss wraps his arms around you as he pulls you to his chest and stands up from the ground while still buried deep inside of you. He sit on the bed putting his back against the headboard and settles you into his lap. You readjust yourself as you place your hands on the headboard above his head and start bouncing in his lap. Swiss lets out a whiny moan as he undoes the strap of the helmet and take it off of you “i need to kiss you and see your beautiful fucking face” he wraps one hand on the back of your neck and starts kissing you roughly as you both moan on each other. You pull away from the kiss after a few moments and look down at him and find him looking up at you with such lustful eyes and you say “so you like my new tattoo then?” You grin at him as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth sucking on it then bit it softly looking up at you through his lashes before pulling his mouth away and says “fucking love it baby and i love you” he kisses your neck and you moan out “i love you too” then you both kiss each other roughly again. You feel your orgasm sneaking up and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten around him. He shakes his head and pulls out of you causing you to gasp. You glare at him “what the fuck Swiss!” he grins as he puts his hand over your mouth and says “not yet baby” and removes his hans from your mouth and kisses you gently before moving you off his lap “hands and knees now”
You quickly move onto your hands and knees on the bed and he gets behind you. He leans over you as he pushes your face down into the bed leaving your ass in the air, then he takes your hands putting them behind your back and his tail comes around and secures your wrists together. Your heart is racing and your squirming and dripping on the bed waiting for him to absolutely rail you from behind. Swiss leans down running his tongue up your back, then he sinks his teeth into your shoulder biting you drawing blood. Your legs tighten together as you squirm a bit and he licks the blood from your shoulder then slaps your ass “spread your legs”. You let out a yelp and flinch as you keep your legs together liking to push him over the edge. He leans down and presses his lips to your ear “did you hear me? i told you to spread your legs and i wont ask again”. That sends shivers down your spine straight to your core as you reply “make me”. Swiss lets out a low chuckle as he sits back up and slaps your ass with both hands then leans down and sinks his teeth into your hip right above your fresh tattoo. You gasp letting out a whine into the bed as you give in and spread your legs for him and he replies with a “good fucking girl” then thrusts into you without warning sending a loud moan passed your lips as you bite the bedsheets. He starts thrusting into you at a harsh pace. The sting from him slapping your ass, the pain from the bites he made combined with his tail restraining your wrist and his dick slamming into you makes you feel like you are about to scream and come undone. He grips your hair with one hand pulling your head back as he continues his pace. You start to tighten around him and he moans at the feeling as he wraps a hand around to you neck and pulls you up flush against his chest as he thrusts up into you like that. His hand tightens around your neck as he whispers into your ear “i’m going to fill you up baby”. You nod quickly letting out a whine as you grip his arm and you quickly come undone and he follows close behind you as you both moan out and he empties deep inside of you as his thrusts become sloppy. He leans back on his heels as he wraps one arm around your torso and keeps the other hand around your neck as he kisses your lips roughly and keeps you there for a few more moments before slowly pulling out of you with a groan.
Swiss scoops you up right away carrying you to the bathroom setting you on the toilet as he starts filling the tub with warm water. As the tub fills, he walks over and stands in front of you cupping your cheeks and leans down kissing your lips very slow and sweet. You both smile on each others lips as he whispers “i love you” and you reply with and “i love you too”. He helps you into the tub once its filled and he sits behind you with his legs on either side. It always made you chuckle when he takes a bath with you because he was too big for it with his knees sticking out of the water above the edge of the tub. He takes a wash cloth wrapping his arms around you as he gently washed your body for you, then your hair. You return the favor to him and once you’re both out the shower and in bed, he walks over to you with some ointment for your tattoo. He kisses your ghoul tattoo then applies the healing ointment on it gently. Once he gets into bed, he pulls you flushed against his chest and you both sleep tangled with each other.
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amara-among-the-stars · 9 months
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Todays lowkey kind of a bad brain day.
Intrusive thoughts be intrusive thought ing and man. Maybe I'll just go back to sleep or something. But first a poll..
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vampghoulette · 1 year
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Chapter 3 of Forgive Me is HERE.
TW for anxious thoughts.
Aether and Copia try to sort out their initial thoughts as they go separate ways.
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