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ghoulsbounty · 13 days

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From A Previous Life (Pt 3)

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Preg!Reader

Summary: You rush to the Ghoul's aid, but find that hospitality doesn't come cheap in the wasteland.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, pregnancy, talk of cannibalism, mention of child loss, canon-typical violence, blood, angst, grief, yearning, rejection.

Word Count: 8.8K

A/N: This is late! I'm sorry this wasn't finished last week, but it took me a while to get the ending to a place where I was happy with it. Part 4 coming up next! I'd love to know what you think 💌

Part 1 | Part 2

In the weeks that followed, a palpable tension thickened the air, suffusing every moment with a sense of unease. The Ghoul, ever cautious and seemingly intent on minimizing any unnecessary interaction, forwent sleep altogether. Instead, he adopted the role of a silent sentinel, perched upon whatever seating deemed acceptable as he watched over the entryways of your temporary shelters. There he would remain, a solitary figure in the dim moonlight filtering through shattered windows, his hat pulled low over his ghoulish features, shrouding them in shadow.

As you lay awake, restless and watchful, your gaze was repeatedly drawn to him, silently pleading for him to abandon his post and join you in the refuge of your shared space. Still, he remained steadfast, his bed beside you still empty and unused by your departure the following morning.

During the days, you travelled in silence under the relentless glare of the blistering sun, each step bringing you closer to your elusive destination. You would pause occasionally, your keen eyes scanning the barren landscape for any sign of abandoned treasures that could be sold for a fine price. Each discovery was accompanied by a hopeful glance towards your companion, a silent plea for approval. More often than not, his response was a grunt or a dismissive shrug, leaving you to carry the weight of your excitement and disappointment alone.

He had truly reverted back to the aloof and distant man he had been before that fleeting moment of connection shared around the crackling fire—the night he had gifted you the Pip-Boy. It had felt like a heavy reminder of the vast divide between you, a symbol of the distance that must remain for your child's safety.

The internal struggle waged within you relentlessly, tearing at the fabric of your resolve as you walked alongside him. On one hand, the instinct to protect your child, to prioritize their safety above all else, pulsed through your veins like a guiding light. But on the other hand, an undeniable longing stirred within you, a selfish desire to throw caution to the wind and reach out for him, to seek the comfort of the companionship you had felt briefly.

You remembered the warmth of his arms briefly wrapped around you, the intimacy of talking freely together like you had done that night by the fire. The memory tugged at your heartstrings, igniting a fierce longing that threatened to overwhelm your senses. And despite your best efforts to bridge the conversational gap, to break through the walls he had erected around himself, he remained stubbornly distant.

The silence between you grew more pronounced with each passing day, a distinct barrier that seemed to stretch endlessly between you. You couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation settle over you. Some divides were simply too vast to bridge, and perhaps, you thought with a heavy heart, yours and the Ghoul's were among them.

It wasn't until one particularly hot mid-afternoon as you battled against a relentless radscorpion that had sprung at you from beneath an overturned refrigerator in that evenings shelter, the Ghoul's patience reached its limit. With a single, precise shot from his magnum, he dispatched the giant arachnid before turning to you with a sour expression.

"Outside," his voice commanded, firm and unwavering.

You followed behind him obediently, watching in silence as he collected the empty Nuka-Cola bottles scattered on the porch and lined them up along the railing. Once satisfied with his work, he turned to you and nodded, signalling you to follow him. Together, you descended the steps and moved further away until you reached a spot that provided a clear shot at the makeshift targets.

You eyed him cautiously, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of your resolve as you waited for his next instruction. But when his gaze settled expectantly on the gun holstered at your hip, you knew what you were to do. With quick hands, you fumbled to unholster the weapon, your fingers closing around its familiar grip as you prepared to face the challenge that lay ahead.

Despite the sweltering heat and the sweat that trickled down your brow, you squared your shoulders and raised your weapon, determined to prove yourself to the Ghoul—to show him that you were capable of holding your own beside him. And as you took aim at the makeshift targets, a sense of determination surged through you. Today, you vowed, would be the day you proved yourself worthy of his respect.

Pulling back the hammer, you let out a shaky breath as you pinched the trigger. The shot rang out, reverberating through your body like a thunderclap as you felt the recoil jolt through your arms. Taking a step back to steady yourself, you lowered the gun and peered ahead at the targets, your heart sinking as you realized that all five bottles remained stubbornly intact, mocking you from their perch.

A sense of annoyance bubbled up inside you, mingling with the disappointment that weighed heavy in the pit of your stomach. You heard the Ghoul sigh from his spot to your right, where he leaned against a a utility pole with his arms crossed.

"Again," he said, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. "And keep your eyes open this time."

His words jolted you out of your reverie, pulling you back to the present moment with a sharp clarity. Despite the simmering frustration within you, you nodded in acknowledgment, steeling yourself for another attempt with the gun raised.

"Feet further apart," he instructed, his tone firm and authoritative. Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and adjusted your stance, grit crunching beneath your boot. You heard him tut, then suddenly felt him beside you. His heavy boot kicked at the inside of your own, widening your stance even further. His gloved hands pressed against your shoulder with a firm tap, guiding you into position before withdrawing just as quickly. "Again."

As the Ghoul moved back to his post, you steadied the gun out before you, pushing down the giddiness that surged through you like a current. It was an unexpected sensation, sparked by the lingering heat left behind by his brief touch—the first physical contact he had initiated since your embrace around the fire. You took aim at the first bottle, and with the memory of his guidance in your mind, you pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, its echo reverberating through the desolate wasteland. A split second later, the sharp noise of the bottle smashing reached your ears, the shattered pieces scattering across the ground like sparkling jewels.

"Yes!" you exclaimed triumphantly, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you raised your arms above your head in victory. Turning to your mentor with a wide grin, you hoped for words of praise, but you were instead met with a stoic nod of approval, his expression unreadable as he regarded you with a steady gaze. Disappointment panged in your chest, a fleeting moment of deflation amidst the rush of triumph.

"Four more, then you can celebrate," he gestured towards the remaining targets and you eyed him with defeat as your arms dropped to your side.

Eyebrows furrowed in determination, you rolled you neck as you prepared yourself. A brief glimmer of pride flickered in his eyes as he watched you turn back towards your targets with a raised weapon.

"Four more, then you cook dinner," you countered and he laughed quietly, a short huff of air out his nose that was barely perceptible.

As the afternoon wore on, you focused all your concentration on the task at hand, determined to prove yourself capable not just to the Ghoul but to yourself. With each bullet that flew past its target, the Ghoul's sighs of irritation echoed in the stifling air.

He had retreated to the scant shade offered by a nearby fence, his slumped posture a testament to the oppressive heat that hung heavy in the air. From his vantage point, he observed your progress with a stoic demeanour, offering little in the way of encouragement as you struggled to find your mark. Still, you refused to be deterred by his silence, channelling your frustration and determination into each shot. With each miss, you adjusted your stance, honing your focus. Finally, the satisfying sound of shattering glass filled the air as the last bottle exploded into a thousand pieces, scattering across the ground.

Pride swelled within you as you looked down at your gun, a tool that had once seemed so foreign and intimidating. In that moment, a sense of awe washed over you as you realized just how far you had come from the life you had once known. The image of yourself as a wife, a homemaker, seemed like a distant memory, a remnant of a time before the world had been plunged into chaos.

As you stood there, gun in hand, dirt under your nails, and a sense of purpose burning within your soul, you couldn't help but wonder how absurd your former self would find this scene. The thought of her reaction brought a smile to your lips, a bittersweet reminder of the person you had once been, and the person you were becoming.

A slow clap from behind you drew your attention, and you turned to see your partner walking towards you, his lips pulled into a wry smile. "Well, as long as no one moves, you might just cut it."

Despite his teasing, you welcomed the familiar banter, a reminder of the rapport that had developed between you before it's abrupt end. With a smile, you looked him over, a wave of gratitude washing over you. "Thank you, for this," you said, gesturing with the gun towards the broken glass. "I feel like The Man From Deadhorse."

With a playful grin, you raised your gun towards the Ghoul, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "I hope you like the taste of lead, you commie son of a bitch."

The sudden shift in atmosphere caught you off guard, the playful jest dying on your lips as the Ghoul's demeanour transformed with alarming speed. Before you could react, he closed the distance between you with swift, purposeful strides, his grisly features contorted with rage.

In the blink of an eye, he knocked the gun from your hand, the dull thud as it buried into the sand was loud in the tense quiet. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched in stunned silence, your wide eyes snapping back to him when he seized your arms in a vice-like grip.

"You don't play like that, you hear?" he scolded, his voice low and harsh, the intensity of his gaze drilling into you like a laser. His leather-clad fingers dug into your flesh, leaving behind faint impressions as he held you firmly in place.

With a shaky nod, you swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, "I hear you." The tension hung thick in the air between you. "It was from a movie, I didn't mean nothing by it."

As he regarded you, the intensity of his grip slowly eased, his features softening marginally as he released you from his grasp. Though his anger still simmered beneath the surface, there was a hint of remorse in his eyes, a silent apology for his outburst. "This ain't no movie, darlin'."

"I know that," you said wistfully.

"Then act like it," he grunted, a wheezing cough escaping him before turning away. "Let's get moving," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation as he retrieved the gun from the sand and handed it back to you.

You holstered your gun, a sense of caution settling over you as you eyed him warily, your footsteps echoing softly against the gravel path as you followed him back to your shelter. He stopped abruptly a few steps ahead, his posture rigid as he doubled over, sputtering into his closed fist.

Instinctively, you moved toward him, concern etched into your features, but you halted in your tracks at the sight of his outstretched hand. "Get back," he rasped, his voice strained, a clear warning in his tone.

You watched with growing unease as he struggled to regain his composure, each laboured breath sounding like a heavy weight upon his chest. The deep, chest-rattling wheeze that emanated from him sent a shiver down your spine, but despite the urge to rush to his aid, you knew better than to defy his command. With a reluctant step backward, you maintained a cautious distance, your eyes never leaving him as you waited anxiously for the bout of coughing to pass.

The coughing had started a few days prior, coming sporadically but with increasing frequency, especially when the Ghoul worked himself up. At first, you had dismissed it as the inevitable toll of his years spent wandering through dust and dirt, but as the days passed and you witnessed the panic in his eyes one evening while he counted his stock of liquid-filled vials, you knew it was something more. The sight of his trembling hands, the frantic glint in his tired eyes, sent a chill down your spine,

You didn't fully understand the significance of the vials, only that they were his medicine—but for what ailment, you couldn't be certain. You had assumed it was for pain, a necessary relief for someone who had endured the relentless exposure to radiation for so long. You knew better than to ask him about it directly. Even in moments of calm, when the worry over his dwindling supply wasn't etched into his furrowed brow, you knew that prying into something so personal would be met with resistance.

The Ghoul staggered back to the shelter and you followed behind him with growing concern, your heart pounding in your chest. You watched in silence as he grasped the stair rails for support, his normally steady gait now faltering. It was a sight you had never witnessed before—him weakened and vulnerable—and fear shot through you like a bolt of lightning, unwelcome thoughts of what this could mean racing through your mind.

You quickly put the invasive thoughts aside, hurrying to join him inside where you found him hunched over his saddlebag. His movements were frenzied as he loaded a vial into the inhaler that distributed the medicine. With a deep, shaky breath, he puffed the inhaler, the sound echoing loudly in the confined space. Minutes stretched into eternity as he fought to regain control of his breathing, his chest heaving with each ragged inhale.

You held your breath in anticipation, watching as his chest heaved and then settled, but your frown deepened when a groan escaped him. He threw himself back against the wall, his movements laboured and unsteady. His arms hung limp at his sides, the inhaler discarded and forgotten on the ground beside him. His hat slipped from his head, tumbling to the dirtied tiles below, leaving his bald head glistening with perspiration, the droplets of sweat trickling down his tired face.

It was a sobering sight, one that filled you with a sense of helplessness as you stood before him, unsure of what to do to alleviate his suffering.

"Told you to stay away," he breathed, his voice weary as he met your gaze, exhaustion evident in his eyes. "I'm fine," he muttered, though the strain in his voice betrayed his words. "Just need to close my eyes."

As his eyes fluttered shut, you moved to his saddlebag with haste, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched desperately for another vial to bring him back to you. But as your trembling hands sifted through the contents, your heart sank like a stone—empty. He had been rationing his vials for days now, telling you there was a place up ahead to get more, but that you weren't to come with him. Another one of his solo trips.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that he was going nowhere in this condition. His shallow breathing reduced you to panic as you fumbled at the inside of his heavy duster, your hands shaking with urgency. Ignoring the incessant clicking of the dosimeter, you pulled out a weathered map that he had drawn up at the beginning of your journey, showing you just how far you had to go until you'd find the haven and the stops that you'd make between.

Your gaze swept over the roughly sketched lines and symbols, tracing the route ahead with a growing sense of urgency. Finally, your eyes landed on a cluster of squares topped with triangles, situated close to the location you recognized as your shelter on the map. Beside them, a lone letter "V" was scrawled, signalling the area designated for his next collection of vials. The distance seemed manageable, just a half-day's journey at most—perhaps even less if you pushed yourself.

The prospect of venturing out alone was daunting, yet despite the risk of leaving him vulnerable, of being scolded for leaving upon your return, you knew there was no alternative. He relied on those vials, and you relied on him.

With a heavy heart, you removed his gun from its holster, carefully positioning his gloved hand around its grip before settling it on his lap. Adjusting his hat back on his head to shroud his closed eyes, you hoped that any passing traveller might be deterred by the implication of a formidable foe awaiting their approach.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced back at your companion one last time, the weight of your decision settling heavily upon you. With a silent prayer for his safety, you asked him to wish you luck before turning away and setting off towards your new destination, determined to retrieve the vials and save the Ghoul.

The two-story house stood large and imposing before you, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon casting long shadows across the grounds. Its faded white paint was peeling, revealing the weather-beaten wood beneath, and its roof sagged precariously as if it could collapse at any moment. The yard, overgrown with tall grass and weeds, was littered with the carcasses of rusty, broken-down vehicles and an assortment of discarded debris, each piece a story of neglect and abandonment.

Stepping onto the sprawling porch, the creak of the wooden boards seemed to echo through the still air as you steadied your nerves. You rapped your knuckles against the front door that hung slightly ajar.

"Whaddya want?" a disgruntled voice hollered from inside, and you stepped back as the door was torn open to reveal a man, his greying hair unkempt and greasy, clinging to his weathered face that was etched with deep lines and one large, pink scar from eye to jaw. "Well, what is it?"

Clearing your throat to dispel the tension, you attempted a friendly smile as you greeted him. "Hello, I'm hoping you can help me," you began, holding the unfolded map up to show him. With a pointed finger, you indicated the spot marked by the Ghoul with a "V." "I'm looking for vials, is this where I can get them?"

He peered closer to the map, beady eyes squinting as he considered it. With a dirty hand, he rubbed at the white stubble of his chin as he hummed, his gaze flicking over you quickly before straightening. "Vials, you say? You're in luck," he gave you a toothy smile, displaying his blackened teeth.

Despite the turn in your stomach, you breathed a sigh of relief. Tucking the map away in the side of your bag, you smiled gratefully. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that," you laughed.

"Well, don't dilly-dally on my porch all night, girl," he said, ushering you inside.

Stepping into the dimly lit home, you were hit by the musty scent of decay and mould. The house was cluttered, filled with stacks of old newspapers, broken furniture, and various knickknacks. The man led you through a narrow hallway into a small room that served as both a living space and a workshop. A cluttered table sat against one wall, covered in tools, scraps of metal, and various mechanical parts.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing to a rickety chair near the table. "I'll see what I got."

You sat down cautiously, the chair creaking under your weight. The man rummaged through a pile of junk on a nearby shelf, muttering to himself as he searched. After a few tense moments, he produced a small wooden box and placed it on the table in front of you.

"Here they are," he said, his tone gruff. "How many you need?"

You glanced at box, your heart pounding with a mix of relief and anxiety. "I need as many as you can spare. How much for all of them?"

The man scratched his head, considering your request. "Caps, or trade?" he asked, eyeing your bag.

"I have caps," you replied, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small pouch. You poured the caps onto the table, counting them quickly. "Is this enough?"

He scooped up the caps, weighing them in his hand before shaking his head. "Not hardly," he said, pocketing them as he stared down at you expectantly. You quickly fumbled in your bag, trying to find something to offer. "How about that there contraption?"

Your eyes followed his to the Pip-Boy on your wrist. What would the Ghoul say if you returned without it? He had insisted you keep it on, gifting it to you as a means of gaining some semblance of control that you desperately wanted. Granted it had recently become an unwanted reminder that loneliness would be your only companion until you met your baby, but he wouldn't want you to trade it. Yet he wasn't here, and you were in desperate need of those vials.

"Please, anything else," you pleaded, one last ditch attempt at negotiation as you rifled through the contents of your bag. "I have scrap, copper, toothpaste, you can even have my gun," you continued, listing your items in a desperate ramble before throwing your gun onto the table beside you.

The man's narrow gaze swept over the array of items you had laid out, his expression a mask of disdain. Without hesitation, he seized your bag and upended its contents onto the worn tabletop. With a rough hand, he sifted through the items, emitting grunts of disapproval as he scrutinized each one.

"No, no good," he muttered, crossing his arms in a gesture of finality. "That thing's worth more than all that junk combined." His lip curled in distaste as he indicated the Pip-Boy resting on your wrist. "It's the gadget or no deal."

Desperation gnawed at you. You needed those vials; the Ghoul's life depended on it. Leaving empty-handed wasn't an option. Fighting back tears, you took a deep breath and looked up at the man, striving to keep your voice steady. "Fine, it's a deal," you conceded, fingers trembling as you unclasped the precious device from your wrist, placing it reluctantly into his filthy palms.

His cracked lips curled into a predatory grin as he regarded his newfound treasure. With a casual shove, he pushed the box of vials across the table towards you. Eagerly, you reached for it, anticipation tingling in your fingertips. But as you pried open the lid, hope turned to bitter disappointment at the sight within.

"There are only three vials here," you stated, disbelief colouring your voice. "We agreed on the Pip-Boy for everything you've got."

A mirthless chuckle escaped the man's throat as he he leaned back against the table, a smug gleam in his eyes. "There it is," he declared, gesturing towards the meagre contents of the box in your hands. "Lesson learned, darlin'. Always check the goods before sealing the deal."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration, cursing yourself inwardly for falling prey to such a blatant deception. Anger surged within you, fuelled by both the injustice of the situation and the man's smug satisfaction.

"That's not fair!" Your voice rose, laced with indignation, drawing a startled expression from the man across the table.

"Now listen here, you little-"

"What's all this hoo-ha about?" a woman's voice interrupted him as she entered the room. She was about the same age as the man, greying and wrinkled, but whereas his face was stern, hers warmed when she saw you. Her hands went to the apron tied around her thin waist, wiping at the dirty fabric as she spoke. "Well, who do we have here?"

The man released an exasperated sigh, his patience wearing thin. "Just a fool not knowing when a deal is done," he muttered, flinging your empty bag in your direction. "Collect your shit and hit the road."

Before you could react, her hand shot out with startling speed, connecting with the back of his head with a resounding smack. He recoiled, irritation contorting his features as he rubbed the offended spot.

"Goddamn, woman!" he exclaimed, shooting her a venomous glare. "She got the chems, I held up my end of the bargain."

Her eyebrows arched inquisitively as she scrutinized you. "And what might someone like you want with those?"

"My friend, he's unwell," you explained, rising from your seat to begin to deposit your items back in the bag.

"So, he sent you to fetch them," she deduced.

You nodded, choosing your words carefully as you gauged the situation. Despite her apparent kindness, you sensed it wise to withhold certain details of your predicament. "Something along those lines," you replied cautiously, then pointed to the three vials. "I just hoped there were more."

"There are more," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument as she delivered a swift reprimand to the man beside her. "Edwin, why are you lying to this poor girl?"

Edwin, still nursing a sore spot on his head from her earlier blow, shot her a disgruntled look. "Can't a man try and make a profit in this economy?"

Ignoring his protest, she turned her attention back to you, a friendly smile gracing her features. "My husband will whip up as many vials as you need, don't you fret," she assured, her reassurance a comforting balm to your frayed nerves. Casting a disapproving glance at Edwin as he started to object once more, she added, "And to make amends for his rudeness, I'll whip you up a plate."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, but I really must hurry these back to my friend," you insisted.

"Of course you must," she affirmed, her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled again. "Edwin will go fetch you some from the cellar. We can't keep such valuable stock out in the open, you understand." Her explanation was delivered with a nod of assurance, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Edwin grumbled, leaving the room presumably to fetch the vials.

"Why don't you and me wait for him in the dinin' room," she suggested, her voice carrying a hint of Southern charm from the old world. "You ain't tasted nothin' till you tried my brahmin roast."

Your protests dissolved into silence as she gently guided you into the room from whence she appeared. A grand wooden dining table commanded the centre of the space, its unpolished surface bearing the scars of time and use. Two weathered candelabras sat empty upon the worn tabletop framing an intricately designed vase that stood proudly in the centre, its once-vibrant bouquet now reduced to a collection of decaying flowers, a red hue faded to a sombre brown. Despite its faded grandeur, there was a certain charm to the room, a nostalgic reminder of simpler times.

Memories of your past life flooded your mind. You remembered the stressful joy of hosting gatherings, the meticulous attention to detail as you fretted over the correct placement of place mats and whether the centrepiece was in keeping with the latest trends from the home magazines you avidly read. Glenn, ever the laid-back husband, would often be found nestled in his recliner, savouring a glass of whiskey as the radio drowned out your worries. He only intervened when you were on the verge of tears, calling for Patti to come and mend his frantic wife.

As you took in the scene before you, a pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, a bittersweet reminder of a life left behind in the wake of the bombs. In this dilapidated dining room, this family had somehow managed to create a semblance of normalcy amongst the disorder. You only hoped to do the same for your own child.

"I'll have Junior walk you back to your friend," she announced, her voice carrying a gentle authority as she guided you to a seat amidst the array of mismatched chairs. "He's a good boy, you won't come into any trouble out there with him by your side."

With a tender smile, she disappeared through a swinging door, leaving you to ponder her offer in the dimly lit room. However, your contemplation was interrupted by an unpleasant odour that wafted through the doorway, assaulting your senses with its acrid essence. The stench caused your stomach to churn uneasily, and you couldn't help but wrinkle your nose in distaste.

As she returned with two steaming plates balanced delicately in her hands, the offensive smell accompanied her, its presence overwhelming. Recoiling slightly, you fought to suppress the urge to gag and wondered how the woman wasn't doing the same.

Setting one plate down before you with practiced grace, she deftly produced a worn napkin from her apron, gently draping it across your lap with an air of hospitality. Expressing your gratitude, you watched warily as she took her seat opposite you, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Since your escape from the vault, you hadn't consumed anything that hadn't been prepared by your own hands or originated from a tin can. While her gesture was undoubtedly kind, you couldn't shake the apprehension that gnawed at you, fuelled by the putrid scent emanating from the meat on your plate.

You hesitantly prodded at the dish, watching as the jellied fat quivered around the thick bone it encased. A wave of revulsion washed over you, and opting instead to sample a carrot, you found it had been thoroughly drenched in the juices and carried the same off-putting aroma as the dubious meat.

Swallowing heavily, you mustered an encouraging smile for the woman across from you as she observed your reaction, her gaze expectant. Despite the foul taste in your mouth, you smiled in appreciation, hoping that it was enough to mask your unease.

"It's delicious," you fibbed, delicately patting the corners of your mouth with the napkin. You eyed the door you had entered through. "Will your husband be joining us soon?"

You didn't want to push, but the urgency of your situation weighed heavily on your mind. Every moment spent away from the Ghoul felt like an eternity, and the thought of his deteriorating condition filled you with a sense of dread. You could have left with those three vials, but what guarantee did you have that they would be enough?

You knew nothing about his condition, nor did you possess the knowledge to provide any meaningful assistance. All you could do was return with as many vials as you could carry, hoping that the sheer quantity would be enough to appease him and alleviate any resentment he might harbour towards you for leaving.

"It's a big cellar," she offered in explanation, her tone carrying a hint of apology for her husband's delay. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on you. "Gets a mite lonesome in this old house."

You offered her a sympathetic smile, sensing a shared understanding of loneliness in her words. "And Junior, is he your son?" you asked.

"One of 'em," she replied with a wistful smile, her gaze drifting momentarily into the distance. "The only one left. Tall as a redwood and about as sharp as one too, bless his heart." There was a fondness in her tone, a mother's unconditional love for her child evident in every word. "But us mothers, we love 'em all the same, don't we?" she added with a gentle chuckle, her eyes flicking to your pregnant belly before returning to meet yours with a glimmer of joy.

Your eyes widened in astonishment at her revelation, and a surge of vulnerability and protectiveness welled within you, prompting your hands to instinctively cradle your bump. You had grown noticeably, your pregnancy now too pronounced to conceal any longer, compelling you to discard your vault suit in favour of garments salvaged from an old dresser. Amidst the solitude of your journey with the Ghoul, encounters with others had been rare, limited to a handful of oblivious traders who had failed to notice your condition. This unexpected revelation felt like a breach of privacy, like divulging a secret that had been shared exclusively between you and your companion.

"Of course," you replied cautiously, sensing the weight of her words.

"I'd move mountains for my boy, just to ensure he's fed and breathing. In this world, that's about all a mother can aspire to," she murmured, eyes glistening with the threat of tears. "It's a pitiful state when a mother can't even provide that much for her own kin."

Your heart constricted with anguish, fears surging to the forefront as you contemplated the prospect of being unable to provide even the most basic necessities for your unborn child. The notion of welcoming a helpless infant into a world of scarcity and violence filled you with terror. You had been hesitant to confront the reality of impending motherhood, unsure of how you would navigate the responsibilities that lay ahead. Despite clinging to the hope that sanctuary awaited you at the haven, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the recesses of your mind.

As you looked into her sad eyes, a pang of empathy tugged at your heartstrings. This poor woman had endured unimaginable loss, yet here she was, seemingly trying to cling to a semblance of normality by creating a home for her remaining family in the wasteland. It was a fragile existence, one that could be snatched away at any moment, and as her resilience struck a chord within you, you wondered: Could this be your future as well? The thought lingered in the depths of your mind, weighing heavy on your chest.

"Don't feel sorry for me, darlin', I got my time with my boys," she assured you, reaching across the table to rest her hand gently on yours.

You smiled sadly as you regarded her. "I can't even imagine what you've been through," you admitted, your voice laced with genuine sympathy.

"No, I suppose you can't," she replied softly, her hand withdrawing from yours as she settled back in her chair. There was a moment of quiet contemplation before she spoke again, her words carrying the weight of hard-earned wisdom. "I've come to realize in this world that it's not about what's been done to us, but what we are willing to do."

You nodded in agreement. You had been thrust into this harsh reality, subjected to the horrors of the vaults and the betrayal of those who promised salvation. Yet, despite the trials and tribulations you had faced, you had fought tooth and nail to survive, to carve out a place for yourself in this dangerous new world. And now, with the imminent arrival of your child, that determination burned even brighter within you.

"Are you willing to do anything for your baby?" she asked, her voice soft yet resolute. Without hesitation, you nodded, unwavering resolve in your eyes.

Her gaze dropped to the table momentarily, lost in thought, before lifting once more to meet yours. "So am I," she declared softly, an edge in her voice that belied her gentle demeanour.

With a swift motion, she brought her index and middle finger to her lips, emitting a sharp whistle that pierced through the stillness of the old house. Your brows furrowed, trying to make sense of her action before Edwin shuffled into the room, trailed by a looming figure whose long hair obscured the majority of his face. "Christ, Mag, I thought we'd be waiting all night," the older man grumbled. "Junior, grab the girl."

You turned your gaze back to Mag, the panic rising within you like a tidal wave, but as your eyes searched for reassurance in hers, you found only avoidance. Her gaze remained fixed on the table, refusing to meet yours, her expression inscrutable.

Junior closed the distance with two swift strides, his towering frame engulfing you as he efficiently yanked you from your seat, flinging you onto your back on the table with a brutal force that stole the air from your lungs. The table's decorations rattled to the ground, mingling with the scattered food in a cacophonous crash.

As Mag's now stern voice echoed through the room, a cold shiver ran down your spine. "Don't leave any marks, Junior," she scolded, authority in her tone. Her son nodded in obedience.

Your hands trembled as you instinctively reached for your holster, only to curse under your breath when you found it empty. The realization hit you like a sledgehammer— you had handed your gun to Edwin during the negotiations, a decision that now seemed foolish in hindsight. Defenceless, vulnerable, and at the mercy of forces beyond your control. Like a cruel nightmare, you were back where you had started.

"Can't sell meat that's all bruised up," Mag's words lingered in the air as she left the room and your eyes widened in terror as the door swung to a shut. You scrambled to rise from the table, but Junior pushed you back down, though this time with less force.

"Please, you don't have to do this," you begged, tears welling in your eyes.

"She's not for selling, she's for eating," Edwin interjected callously, disregarding your pleas as he seized your ankles. Junior seized your wrists in an iron grip and pinned them above your head, stretching you out before them.

"Says who, you old coot?" Mag challenged, reappearing with a hefty butcher knife gripped firmly in her hand. The awful smell filled the room again, and you felt bile rise in your throat.

"Says me, the one who got her inside in the first place," he retorted, grunting as you struggled against his grip. "Besides, I'm sick of that rancid meat. He's been festering in there for weeks." He nodded toward the door where the putrid smell was emitting from.

His words sent a chill down your spine as you glanced at the mess of food scattered across the floor. Your eyes honed in on the repulsive meat that now lay splayed on the grubby carpet amongst the ceramic shards of the plates. Brahmin meat, she had told you, but now you realized it was another poor soul who had crossed this family's path.

Perhaps you were naïve to not consider the act of cannibalism in this dire new reality, but your mind reeled at the images of teeth ripping through bloody flesh.

"Please, why are you doing this?" you cried, tears hot on your cheeks as panic consumed you, each futile struggle met with unyielding strength from Edwin and Junior. Mag moved to your side.

"We've had this conversation, darlin', you know why," Mag whispered, her face looming mere inches from yours. The warmth that once suffused her features had now drained away, replaced by a chilling resolve as she gazed down at you. "Motherhood demands sacrifice, and this is the sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Her gaze shifted to your belly, assessing it before turning to address the old man. "We'll keep her for meat and sell the babe for a hefty sum," she declared, eliciting a triumphant whoop from him. As her hand tenderly caressed your sweat-dampened hair, a shiver ran down your spine at the realization of your fate. "I want you to know that I mean you no ill will," she murmured, her voice a soothing contrast to the horror of her words. "But my boy has to eat."

The gentle touch of her hand offered little comfort as you recoiled from her touch. When you shook your head in a futile attempt to rid yourself of her grasp, she stepped back, her voice hardening once more.

"I wish I could promise this won't hurt, but there's only one way this baby's comin' out," she stated matter-of-factly, her words ringing with finality as the weight of your impending ordeal settled like lead in the pit of your stomach.

As the blade hovered menacingly above you, your mind raced with desperate thoughts. You couldn't shake the image of the Ghoul alone, abandoned where you'd left him while you embarked on this ill-fated rescue mission. What if he awoke to find you gone, vanished without a trace? Would he think you'd left him, angry over what had transpired between you both? Or perhaps that you'd waited until his weakest moment to finally run from him. The mere notion tore at your heartstrings.

You needed him to know the truth, to understand that your departure was in aide to help him not abandon him. You couldn't die knowing that he may think so badly of you, even though you weren't sure why it mattered so much. He'd been difficult and stubborn, scolded you and made you cry, but there was a yearning that you felt for him beyond your own understanding. With every fibre of your being, you silently pleaded for a chance to return to his side, to make things right and ensure that he could never doubt your devotion.

But you were trapped, with nowhere to run and no escape from the horrors unfolding before you. The full stretch of your body left your bare stomach uncomfortably exposed to the imminent danger. The cold, unforgiving blade of the knife traced a path across the swell of your belly, its touch sending shivers of dread coursing through your veins. Though the first cut was not deep, the sting of pain accompanied by the trickle of blood down your side served as a grim reminder of the perilous situation you had walked yourself and your unborn child into.

Since escaping the clutches of the vault, you hadn't dared to picture your future, quickly learning that the dangers of the wasteland were capable of shattering your reality with ruthless brutality from one moment to the next. Yet, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing had remained constant: your unwavering determination to protect and nurture the life growing within you.

From the moment you heard the doctor confirm your pregnancy, a flicker of hope ignited within you. Despite the deceit of your husband, the looming threat of war, and every obstacle that stood in your path, you had clung to the unwavering belief that you were destined for motherhood. It was a truth that resonated deep within your heart, but you felt it slowly being swallowed by the hollow ache of despair and regret.

With a heavy heart weighing down every fibre of your being, you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for what was to come. In that harrowing moment, a chilling realization swept over you like a tidal wave: if you were to remain conscious through these next moments, you would meet your baby. You were so far from carrying to full-term, but why would Mag go to such lengths unless she was confident that your baby would survive. Afterall, a living baby must be worth a fortune in the wasteland. A commodity, as the Ghoul had described you.

Then, the thought pierced your soul: your baby would enter the world alone, without you, unaware of what transpired or why you weren't there beside them. Growing up to think that their mother never loved them. You couldn't let it happen.

With your last shred of resolve shattered, a primal scream tore from your throat.

A distant crash from another room shattered the tense atmosphere, bringing the woman's relentless pursuit with the knife to an abrupt halt. All three members of the family turned their heads towards the doorway, their eyes widening in shock as it was obliterated before them. A deafening cacophony of splintering wood filled the air as a single bullet burst through, sending wooden fragments flying in all directions.

Instinctively, you turned your head away, seeking whatever meagre protection you could get. In the midst of the commotion, Edwin's agonized holler pierced the air, his body recoiling as the bullet sliced through his neck. With a forceful impact, he was thrown back against the kitchen doorway, his form crumpling to the ground with a heavy thud that reverberated throughout the room.

Junior's anguished wails pierced your eardrums. Despite his distress, his vice-like grip remained unyielding, keeping you firmly in place even as he grappled with the shock of his father's demise.

Meanwhile, Mag offered only a fleeting acknowledgment to the lifeless form of her husband before her attention snapped back to the now-open doorway. There, a figure emerged, a silhouette framed by the shattered remnants of the entrance. With each step, the sound of spurred boots rang out like a beacon of hope.

As the Ghoul's hulking frame filled the doorway, a wave of relief washed over you. He appeared worlds apart from the unconscious man you had left behind in search of aid, and as you took in his daunting appearance, you noticed the inhaler clutched in his hand, an almost empty vial inserted inside.

Locking eyes with him across the room, you watched as his weary gaze swept over the scene before him: you, splayed out and held down on the table, a small cut marring your belly, tears streaking your face.

In that fleeting moment, his expression darkened with a silent fury. With swift and merciless precision, he raised his magnum, his aim unwavering as he first targeted Junior. In an instant, the sound of gunfire shot through the room, a single slug piercing through Junior's skull, extinguishing his cries in a heartbeat.

Mag's horrified gaze barely had time to register the terror before her own fate was sealed. She turned to the Ghoul with venom in her eyes. "Coop—"

With ruthless efficiency, another bullet tore through her chest, sending her crumpling to the floor beside her fallen son. In the span of mere seconds, the room fell almost silent, the only sound being the Ghoul's heavy breaths as he surveyed the aftermath of his swift justice.

A low groan echoed across the room, drawing the Ghoul's attention to the source of the sound. Without hesitation, he fired off two more shots into Edwin's chest, putting an end to his suffering. As the final ring of gunfire faded, the Ghoul lowered his gun, his gaze fixated on you once more. His eyes, dark and brooding, seemed to bore into your very soul, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in their intense scrutiny.

With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up to sit on the table, the weight of so many emotions swirling within you like a windstorm raging inside your chest. Fear, relief, guilt, and gratitude warred for dominance, each vying for your attention as you struggled to make sense of the harrowing ordeal that had unfolded before you. In that moment of uncertainty, you found yourself paralyzed by indecision, unsure of how to proceed as you watched the Ghoul, awaiting his instruction.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he holstered his gun and tucked the inhaler back inside his coat, the look of anguish etched upon his scarred face. With a silent understanding passing between you, he beckoned you to him with a curl of his fingers, a wordless invitation for comfort that you never thought possible from him. Your body moved on instinct, propelled forward by a force beyond conscious thought, as you leaped from the table and into the safety of his waiting arms. In that moment, all pretence of strength crumbled away, leaving you clinging to him with a desperation that bordered on frantic.

You held onto him so tightly that you could almost feel the air being squeezed from your lungs. As his muscular arms enveloped you and your unborn child, a floodgate of emotion burst open within you, unleashing an outburst of tears that wracked your body with their intensity.

"I never left you," you whispered through each sob, your voice hoarse from screaming, the words spilling out in a plea for understanding. "I swear, I was coming back."

His touch was tender as he stroked your hair, his breath warm against your ear as he comforted your trembling form. "Nobody would blame you if you hadn't," he murmured softly, then cleared his throat. "I told you, you weren't to come here."

"I had to save you," you insisted, your voice shaking but resolute.

"Sure did a fine job," he said, glancing around the room at the carnage. "Looked like you had everything under control."

His teasing stung, and you pulled away from him, hurt flashing in your eyes as you stood your ground. "You were unconscious. If I hadn't come, you would have—" your voice cracked, unable to finish the thought.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" he interrupted, irritation thick in his voice. "Good thing too, because I wasn't aware just how dumb you could be."

"I didn't know if you'd make it," you shot back, your voice a raw blend of frustration and fear. "I had to do something, I couldn't lose you."

For a brief moment, his eyes softened, a flicker of understanding passing between you. But it was quickly replaced by steely conviction. He pointed a gloved finger at your belly, his tone firm yet edged with concern. "I shouldn't be your concern right now."

You cradled your bump protectively, looking up at him with glistening eyes. "And yet here we are."

He was silent for a moment, his hand dropping back to his side as he regarded you with a mix of frustration and helplessness. "What am I going to do with you?" he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You didn't answer him. Instead, you moved back into his chest, seeking the comfort you'd felt moments before. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, the tension in his muscles softening as he held you close.

"This can't keep happening," he said after moments of silence passed between you, his words hammering at your heart. You couldn't tell if he was referring to the intimacy of your embrace or your reckless brush with death once again. Regardless, you tightened your grip on him.

"Just a little longer," you whispered, your voice barely audible. He sighed in resignation as he gently disentangled your arms from his waist, pushing you back to look into your eyes. His hand slipped into the pocket of his coat, and he retrieved the device that would sever any remaining physical connection between you.

You had barely had time to enjoy the unbridled freedom of those moments in his embrace, the silence broken only by the rhythmic beating of his heart against your cheek rather than the disturbing clicking. But now, as your eyes fell on the Pip-Boy, you realized you weren't ready to relinquish that freedom, despite the protection it promised.

"I told you not to take it off," he chided. When you started to explain yourself, he cut you off. "I don't care, just put it back on."

You shook your head, your eyes locking with his, defiance met with disappointment. "Don't make me do it," he pleaded earnestly, his voice softening, laden with a desperation you hadn't heard from him before.

"I have a choice, and so do you," you told him, your voice steady but your heart pounding.

He smiled sadly, a bittersweet expression that deepened the ache in your chest. "I wish that were true," he replied, pulling your hand gently and fastening the Pip-Boy around your wrist. The device closed with a sickening clink, severing the fragile connection between you. You held his gaze, chin high, though you wanted to curl into yourself.

"I wonder if it really is me you're protecting with this thing," you said, your voice trembling with rage and sorrow, your hand still enclosed in his as the clicking commenced. "I'm not so sure anymore."

His gaze dropped as he took a deep breath, bracing himself before looking back at you with a rueful smile. "Me neither, vaultie," he admitted, his voice a whisper of regret. He dropped your hand and turned to leave the room. "Maybe it's better that way."

He disappeared through the open doorway, leaving you alone with the heavy silence and the cold weight of the Pip-Boy on your wrist. The freedom of touch you had tasted moments ago now felt like a distant memory, replaced by the stark reality that, regardless of anything else, the Ghoul was determined to keep you at a distance.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @lothiriel9 @ancientbeing10 @sillysimping @maeplaysbass @moon-trash1507 @spookyoat @rebelmarylou @writtenbyhollywood

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout #fallout prime #fallout fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout x reader

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 3 months

Text

the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.

summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury

word count: 4813

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”

“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”

A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”

Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”

“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”

“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”

Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”

“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.”

Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat.

Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms.

As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum.

You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude.

A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow.

“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival.

Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”

Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”

“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”

When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”

“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”

“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”

“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”

Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”

“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake.

Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”

“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”

As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge.

Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her.

Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother.

Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired.

“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.

“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were.

“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”

“What did you expect?”

Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.”

Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop.

The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage.

Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.

“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”

Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”

He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside.

Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour.

Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures.

Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you.

“Hey, Barnes?”

Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”

“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”

“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”

“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”

“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone.

Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”

Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”

Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows.

“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?”

“Of course, your highness.”

“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”

Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”

“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”

“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”

“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.

Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”

With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours.

A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh.

You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely.

The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle.

The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue.

Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you.

“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.”

Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.”

And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.

The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers.

As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends.

When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame.

“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once.

Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.”

“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”

A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”

It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen.

Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you.

The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below.

But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter.

The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow.

“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?”

“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone.

Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.”

“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress.

When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.

First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”

Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric.

His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor.

“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”

“Oh…” was all he breathed.

“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer.

“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”

“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.”

A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”

Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”

Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left.

Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?

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jflemings · 29 days

Text

— nightmares

pairing: jessie fleming x reader, jessie fleming x child {piper’s world}

synopsis: piper has a nightmare and calls out for jessie

warnings: mentions of nightmares, crying

a/n: combined 2 anons for this! i’m also trying new things w my fics to match my current theme hehe

୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️ ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

jessie wakes up in the middle of the night shivering. she rolls over and realises you’ve managed to steal her side of the blanket, rolling her eyes as she pulls the cocoon you’ve made for yourself apart. she doesn’t know what time it is and can’t be bothered to check once she buries herself back underneath the warm covers that smell like you.

she pulls them up over her nose and then blindly searches for you in the dark, putting her arm around your waist and burying her face in the dip where your neck curves into your back. the sound of your heartbeat and breathing is enough to almost lull her to sleep until she hears a small voice calling out her name.

“jessie” it’s kind of quiet and a little distant so she thinks she’s dreaming and ignores it until she hears it again, louder and more distressed this time.

the canadian lifts her head off the pillow to make sure she’s not just hearing things, her whole body going rigid next to you.

“jessie” the little voice calls out again, just as loud as before but more drawn out and desperate.

jessie recognises piper’s voice and tosses the covers off herself, making sure not to wake you as she slides out of bed and tip toes down the hall.

warm, muted light slightly flickers and dims from inside piper’s room as she approaches. she pushes open the cracked door to see a very distressed looking little girl sitting up in bed and clinging to her ninja turtle donatello plush toy.

“pip? what are you doing up” she whispers, quietly stepping into the room and pushing the door slightly closed behind her

piper sniffles and reaches her arms up to signal she wants to be held. jessie obliges and cradles her protectively as piper folds into herself on the footballer’s chest. she continues to sniffle as jessie begins to rock her ever so slightly in hopes of putting her back to sleep. she’s a little stunned in her half-awake state, not knowing exactly what do to. it’s the first time piper has actively sought jessie out for comfort without a single mention of you.

usually when piper awakes though the night she comes into your bedroom and wiggles her way in between you and jessie. other times she’s stood at your side of the bed and stared at you until you woke up in fright before climbing over you and tucking herself in. a few times she’s had to tug on jessie’s arm to be put in the big bed because you sleep like a rock, but there’s never been anything like this.

“had a bad dream” piper whispers into the dark, the only light coming from a string of star lights that are quickly dying. jessie makes a mental note to put new batteries in them tomorrow. “was really scary. you were playing foo’ball then a big monster with red eyes started chasing you but you didn’t see him and he swallowed you up!” she continues on, shifting slightly in jessie’s hold before sniffling again. “no one else see him! i tried to get mummy but couldn’ find her. no one to help”

jessie hums and sits down on piper’s bed as she begins to rub circles with her thumb on her back “it wasn’t real pip, i’m right here” she assures “why didn’t you come get me or mummy?”

“saw the monster’s eyes an’ thought he was going to get me”

“what do you mean?” jessie asks puzzled.

piper pulls herself off jessie’s chest, keeping one of her hands bunched in her hoodie as she turns and points out her door “there” she says before turning back to face jessie “he’s out there”

piper’s bottom lip quivers and tears begin to run down her chubby cheeks. jess wipes her tears with one hand whilst the other holds the girl tighter “sweetheart there’s no monster i promise”

“b-but his eyes!”

jessie’s brows furrow. she wants nothing more than to go out into the living room and show piper that there’s no monster that’s going to gobble her up, but she knows that she needs to get piper back to sleep. instead, she lays down on the single bed and keeps piper cradled to her chest before pulling the covers up over the two of them. realistically she shouldn’t be sleeping in a child’s bed the night before a game at the risk of waking up sore, but jessie has a feeling that if she attempts to take piper out of her room it’s only going to stress her out more.

she lays the two of them under the canopy hung a over piper’s bed “the monster…” piper trails off

“we’re safe i promise” jessie whispers.

the little girls hand lets go of jessie’s jumper and lays flat over her heart, her little fingers spread out and tapping aimlessly “he won’t eat you?”

“he’s not gonna eat me”

seemingly satisfied with the answer she gets, piper goes boneless on top of the midfielder. her arms are tucked underneath her and her legs slightly fall around jessie’s waist, her donatello still held tightly in one hand. she nestles her head in the crook of jessie’s neck and soaks in her still sleep warm skin, the slight smell on you that somehow permanently lingers on jessie only providing more comfort to the three year old.

the feel of jessie’s chest rising and falling slowly puts her to sleep, the feel of the footballer’s body under her bringing her peace.

——

when you awake the next morning it’s to cold sheets and a blaring alarm. you expect jessie to be curled up against your back like she is most mornings but all you’re left with is an empty bed. you roll over to turn off your first alarm and realise the apartment is silent. no shower running, no tv going, no coffee machine being used. just you.

what’s even more puzzling is the fact that you also can’t hear piper. if jessie wakes up first piper isn’t far behind, the pair of them usually up talking or giggling loud enough for you to hear it through your closed bedroom door. you swing your legs over the side of the bed and put your slippers on before making your way out to the kitchen and living room.

jessie’s spare pair of running shoes are still on the shoe rack by the door so you know she’s not gone for a run and her keys are still sitting on the counter along with her wallet.

furrowing your brows, you turn back and go towards piper’s room. pushing the door open slightly you’re met with piper laying on jessie’s chest, the two of them tucked under the covers snugly as they continue to sleep peacefully.

you lean on the door frame and take in the scene in front of you. jessie’s got an arm raised above her head whilst the other is wrapped around piper over the covers, and your little girl is tucked into the crook of her neck. donatello has been discarded through the night and now finds himself next to jessie’s head on his shell with one leg poking your girlfriend in the cheek.

you smile and push yourself off the door frame before cracking piper’s door again and turning to head to the kitchen, preparing a coffee you know jessie’s gonna need from sleeping in that bed.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #piper’s world #jflemings woso #jflemings writes

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wosoimagines · 5 days

Text

Sweet Sixteen

part 2 of rivals one-shots

Jo's sixteenth birthday happens during camp.

1,437 words

set in between chapter 3 and 4 of rivals.

“Dude! It’s your birthday?”

I raised my eyes from where I was focused on my breakfast to meet Pinoe’s eyes. Everyone had turned to look at her as I froze. It didn’t take long for everyone’s eyes to turn to me. I shrunk in my seat a bit at the number of eyes that were focused on me now.

“It’s your birthday?”

My eyes met Becky at the question that was repeated softer. I sucked in a breath but slowly nodded.

“Is that a problem?”

“You didn’t tell us it was your birthday,” Becky said. I shrugged at that. Honestly, I wasn’t used to it being celebrated. “We would have got you something.”

“You don’t have to,” I said with a shake of my head.

“You don’t want anything for your birthday?”

Alyssa was the one who spoke up this time. I shrugged at that. There wasn’t much that I really needed.

“I’m getting a new pair of shoes when I get home. Well, new cleats anyways.”

I didn’t miss the looks being shared between my teammates.

“What do you want?” Pinoe asked.

I was at a loss with that. I didn’t really know what they wanted me to say. I was used to just getting new soccer gear from my family. At least I got to pick out exactly what they got me.

“How should I know? I usually get new socks and cleats and shin guards and a new ball.”

The room went silent again.

“Your family just gets you soccer stuff?”

I nodded my head at Christie’s question. I tilted my head as the captain clenched her jaw, and I could see the anger that sometimes flickered in her eyes on the field suddenly set in her eyes now.

“It’s a free day today,” Becky said, drawing my attention back to her. “You can make a list of things you’d like, and we can go shopping for birthday presents.”

“No,” I shook my head, “That’s too much.”

“Nah, it’s easy,” Sydney said as she suddenly sat next to me with a pen and piece of paper. “You just write down what you like to do, and we’ll go get you presents that relate to that.”

I huffed at that. They didn’t get it.

“Soccer is what I like to do.”

The whole room froze.

“If I’m not in school, then it’s soccer.”

“What do you do besides that?”

“I don’t. I go to school and I practice and we watch football at home. We don’t do much more than that. We go to the lake during the summer where we swim and we ski. But I don’t do anything else. I can’t do much anything else besides soccer because soccer is how I’m going to make money. And I need to be the best at soccer so that’s what I do outside of school.”

I refused to meet anyone’s eyes at the admission. I knew it wasn’t entirely normal, but I loved soccer, so I was okay with it.

“Okay, we’re taking you out, and if you find anything that interests you, we’re buying it for you,” Alyssa spoke up across from me. “And it won’t have anything to do with soccer.”

I sighed but nodded. It was obvious in the way Alyssa stared me down that there was no room for discussion about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I gave the camera a small wave as I walked into the mess hall. I knew that the team had talked Jill into letting them get a cake for me. I was a bit surprised though by the amount of boxes that were wrapped.

Christie had me wearing the new pair of sneakers she had gotten me earlier today after I had accidentally told her that the only new shoes I ever got were my soccer cleats. She had seemed upset by the fact that my parents had only ever given me hand-me-downs for shoes. Her present was the only gift that I knew what it was. Everyone else had ended up keeping it a surprise from me.

“Think fast, Pip.”

I easily caught the box that Hope threw at me. She looked surprised but I had a lot of practice with everything that would be thrown at home. I shook the box before raising an eyebrow at how whatever was instead was easily rattled. I took the newspaper off before pulling the lid off.

“It’s a rock.”

“It’s an emerald,” Hope corrected. I slowly picked it up. “Figured you could use it. The guy says it brings love into your life.”

I immediately dropped the emerald back into the box before shoving it in Becky’s hands.

“No thanks,” I said as I shook my head. “Don’t need love to try to find me right before the World Cup.”

A couple of our teammates laughed at that.

“He also said it improves eyesight.”

“I have perfect vision.”

Becky ushered me to sit down before Hope and I could get into a petty argument. I did appreciate the thought of her gift though.

“Here,” Becky said as she put another gift in front of me. “I hope you like it.”

I sent Becky a small smile. I was sure that I would. After all, I was just happy to have presents that didn’t relate to soccer. I didn’t realize just how annoying it was to only get gifts relating to soccer.

“You got me a camera?”

I tilted my head at the sight of the Nikon camera that now sat in my hands.

“It’s an F2. I figured you might like it since you seem to always try to steal the cameras at practice. But you’ll have to learn how to shoot on film.”

I grinned at that.

“Thanks. I love it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kelley spoke up. “We get it. Becky’s your team mom. You’ll love any gift from her.”

I rolled my eyes at the defender.

“Here,” Tobin said as a bigger box was pushed toward me. “Might as well keep it on the artistic side.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. I did wonder if anyone got together to get me something. Maybe Tobin and Becky did?

“Seen you doodling during film sessions,” Christen explained when I started pulling out sketchbooks and pencils and paints. “Wasn’t sure what to get so I asked Tobin for help, and we just decided to get it all for you together.”

I hadn’t been able to draw since I was a kid. Not really. At least not if it wasn’t at school. We just couldn’t afford the amount of paper I would go through drawing and how much Mom needed to print so she could edit the chapters of her book. She always said she was old school with her editing and did it much better if she edited a paper copy.

Present after present was pushed in front of me. Or at least an explanation of what a teammate had ordered for me was given. Like Alyssa ordering me some books she thought I would enjoy. Ali definitely took me by surprise with the amount of clothes she had bought me, but only gave me a shrug that I could start to find my own style instead of having to wear hand-me-downs from my siblings.

Well, I thought Ali’s would be the biggest surprise, until it was Pinoe’s turn. She had waited to be last. But there were still at least twelve boxes on the table.

The first was a pair of shoes. So was the second box. And the third.

“Did you just get me shoes?”

I knew that I had tried on quite a few, but the ones that Christie had got me were more than enough.

“You’ve never had your own first pair before now. Now you have options.”

Twelve pairs of shoes. I couldn’t believe Pinoe.

“And-”

“There’s more?”

There was no way Pinoe got me twelve pairs of shoes and then something else on top of it.

“It’s like Ali said,” Pinoe started with a shrug, “You can find your own style. I ordered you some clothes to be delivered to your house.”

I did get into a small argument with Pinoe on whether or not what she got me was too much. It was eventually broken up when the cake was put in front of me, and I was sure that the video of my face immediately turning red as the team sang to me would be posted online.

“Be honest,” Alyssa nudged me as she walked Becky and I back to our room, “How was your sixteenth birthday?”

“Best one yet.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

#uswnt imagine #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #woso x reader #uswnt imagines #woso imagines #uswnt #woso

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ifangirlalot · 10 months

Note

I'm back in my miles Fairchild supermency (idk if I spelled that wrong) Anyways can I request a miles Fairchild x reader smut whatever you want to do with it

˗ˏˋ 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ˎˊ˗ | starring miles fairchild

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

*~smut!*~ [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] oral (male receiving), hand play (male receiving), kinky thoughts (miles' pov)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[Name]'s POV

While Miles and I have been together for a while now, we've yet to do anything super serious. We've gotten about as close to fucking as you can get without actually getting undressed, though. See, the thing is, I'm a little intimidated by the idea of sex. I haven't ever done it before, but Miles told me that he's done it a handful of times. (He's never specified what "a handful of times" translates to with a concrete number, but taking a look at him tells me everything I need to know, really.) And while I'm not exactly thrilled about it, I can't really say I'm surprised.

The thing is, I wouldn't know how to please him. Not just with the main course, so to speak, but also in the way of appetizers. Reading smut isn't what I'd call a reliable teaching method. That's more or less just something to read when you're horny. So, I guess that's why I'm here now. In Miles' bedroom sitting in front of him, seeing him lean against the wall (because his bed is literally just a goddamn mattress for some fuckin' reason) and tastefully unhook the front button of his jeans and pulling down his fly, like he does this everyday.

Lessons start now.

Miles' POV

I don't outwardly express it, but the way [Name] is staring at my dick like it's some sort of predator she has to conquer is rather amusing to me. My pride is telling me it's because my dick is huge, but I think more likely than not it's just because she's never actually seen one up close before. I'll probably die telling myself the first one, though.

While seeing her nervous, almost terrifed face is fucking hilarious, it's not really getting me riled up. So, while she's having her quiet nervous breakdown, I let my eyes flicker to the opening in her shirt and thinking about pressing my palm against her tits. Maybe giving them a nice, hard squeeze, getting her to cry out if I'm lucky. That does the trick and pretty soon I'm at full mast and ready to get started with teaching her.

Oh what a fun little lesson this will prove to be for me.

After some quick debate, I decide maybe hand shit is where I should start. Save the best for last. "[Name], give me your hand." I urge, not waiting for her to comply and just picking it up myself. I pull it closer to my lap and wrap her tiny fingers around my shaft.

Immediately, she grips it and I have to surpress the urge to scream. Not in pleasure, but in pain. This shit fucking hurts.

"Ow- Hey, hey- Loosen it, loosen it.. that's it.. good girl.." I sigh in relief when she complies but keeps her hand in a loose circle around me. "Okay, we're gonna try jerking me off, alright?" I tell her when the breath finally reenters my system. Could have sworn my life just flashed before my eyes from that experience.

"Oh, that's easy. I read about that, I can do it!" [Name] exclaims, almost excited to try out her knowledge from books. I'm immediately cautious. From that first moment, I'm kinda scared she's gonna break my dick off. Don't think that would be good. I kinda need that.

Turns out I was right to be cautious. One second everything's fine, the next, I've died, and my dick feels like I'm fucking a succulent vacuum. And not in a good way. "Ouch-! Fuck- [Name]-! When I said 'Jerk it off' I didn't mean jerk it off my body!" This is not going at all like how I envisioned it in my head. Like at all. This lesson is so unsexy my boner keeps leaving. I have to keep giving it a couple pip-paps just to keep it up. Which in turn is making [Name] feel bad, which is also making my boner go down. Ugh, this is a nightmare.

Finally I sigh and gently move her hand. "Okay, darling. That's not working. So, instead you're going to use your mouth." When she starts moving down, I stop her by touching her shoulder. "Now before you go down and inevitably bite my cock off, listen carefully. Don't use your teeth, make sure they're just barely grazing me. And wrap one hand around the base and hold it steady. Move it in the opposite direction of your mouth so that it meets in the middle, got it?" She nods and moves down again. I hold my breath and lean back against the wall, eyes closed, half expecting to feel a sharp pain as her teeth sink into my length. But that doesn't happen. Instead, my senses are being sweetly invaded by euphoria. Her tongue is wet and warm around my dick, and her teeth are barely even noticeable. Her hand is moving the perfect speed to contrast her mouth and it feels like heaven. A wet, warm heaven. "Oh- fuuuuck-"

The sounds coming from me are foreign to me. But she's pulling them out of me faster than I can stop them. Normally I'd be embarrassed, but right now I don't have enough time to register anything that isn't pleasure. "Fuck, fuck, don't you stop-"

And then suddenly, she's doing shit that I didn't tell her about. Her mouth pulls off my cock with a soft pop and her tongue laps around me, licking, grazing, making me twitch and buck my hips. When her tongue presses against my bright red tip, my eyes roll back in their sockets and a loud groan resonates around the room. Whatever books she's been fucking reading are definitely my favorites now. Don't know who wrote them or what they're called, but goddamn do I love those books. Then, all too soon, I'm coming and it's over. It has been about two minutes. Fuck, I feel so pissed with myself. Two minutes? Fucking seriously, Miles?

I watch her, my cheeks flaming red, while she takes her time lapping up my mess like a dog under the dinner table. "So," she asks casually, licking her fingers. "When's lesson two?"

[A Note From Zee]

I'm genuinely so sorry this took so damn long- I got caught up in other things, but I hope it was at least passable.

#💭 ۫⠀IMAGINE.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚#⊹ . SMUT ۫ .#boris pavlikovsky #ziggy katz #mike wheeler #richie tozier #finn wolfhard smut #miles fairchild smut #boris pavlikovsky smut #ziggy katz smut #mike wheeler smut #richie tozier smut #mike wheeler x you #finn wolfhard x y/n #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard fluff #stranger things smut #miles fairchild x reader #miles fairchild x you

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badbatchsprincess · 2 months

Text

Heated ~ pt. 1

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake.

No warnings for this, just world building... welcome lol.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

After approximately 90 rotations aboard the Marauder, give or take a few days, you were ready to disembark.

Tech, of course, calculated the accurate amount of time, but you were running on inner planetary standard time. You were exhausted. Truly and totally exhausted. The battles along the outer rim were beginning to overtake every waking thought, and the war only seemed to be escalating. Even though you were just a medical technician, it seemed like you never had a moment to breathe.

The boys had been sent on one mission after another to the most backwater planets you’d never even heard of. In the beginning of working with Clone Force 99, you were thrilled.

Tired of being on the front lines with Captain Rex and General Skywalker, you thought this would have been a cakewalk compared to tending to the 501st. (Or as you liked to call them, the most reckless GAR unit in history.) Boy, were you wrong…

Rex assigning you to Clone Force 99 had been one of the most challenging places you think a young medic like yourself could have gone.

These men, in particular, were a unique kind of reckless, and they always seemed to end up in the craziest situations.

That didn’t mean you didn’t come to grow fond of them, but as GAR procedure demands, they must return to Coruscant for their quarterly medical examinations, and you were relieved.

While you didn’t particularly care for the bustle of the high-density planet, you could appreciate not being shot at, chased, or bombed at any given second.

The Marauder also didn’t offer the same level of comfort as the Venator Attack Cruisers you’d become accustomed to staying on for months at a time. But it’s alright, you’ve come to enjoy your time with special force 99.

For a bunch of chaotic Alphas, they were pleasant company.

Sergeant Hunter was the leader and a remarkable tracker. You couldn’t help but marvel at his heightened abilities; it was really interesting from a medical standpoint. Tech had the brain capacity of a supercomputer and his ex-arc trooper friend, Echo. You actually had known Echo from your early days serving under the 501st.

It was nice having him around; he seemed to keep the peace and offered some much-needed familiarity. Then there was Wrecker, the sweetest man-child you’d ever met. He had a love for blowing things up, which you found hilarious, and finally, there was Crosshair. You never really knew where you stood with the man. Echo told you it’s because he’s not used to strangers hanging out with his brothers, but you weren’t quite sure. The Alpha was quiet and calculated. He didn’t miss a thing, not with his heightened reflexes. He never said much to you; he often operated in silence unless it was to piss off Hunter, which seemed to be more often than you realized.

He, however, treated you indifferently. It was just odd for an Alpha to not acknowledge an Omega. Not to say you needed his attention, it was just different. You speculated it had to do with his genetic mutations; maybe he was too good at focusing on his objective. Omegas hardly phased him.

“You ready, Pip?” Wrecker gave your shoulders a gentle shake.

You smiled at the nickname. “Yeah Wreck, ugh I just really want a real shower.” You sighed, getting a little impatient.

The Marauder was waiting for landing clearance while you made quick work stowing away the last few stray supplies. You made notes of all the supplies that had been depleted, which was most of it. You shook your head; you’d be raiding the GAR supply facility before deployment for certain.

“You and me both,” Hunter snorted and settled down in one of the chairs in the cockpit.

Poor guy, you realized, probably had the worst of it all. Living amongst five sweaty dirty men and one medic had his scent on overdrive. Not to mention the dulled pheromones. Being surrounded by so many alphas, the stench was probably awful for him.

You, however, being an omega on the smaller side, couldn’t smell much, not with your implant which was due for replacement this quarter. Hunter never mentioned anything to you about smell. You just hoped it wasn’t too much for him with all of your implants thankfully. It never seemed like an issue for him.

“We’re clear for landing,” Echo chirped from the copilot seat. Everyone came up to the front to strap into the jump seats. Crosshair brought your packed bag up with him and placed it gently under your feet before he took the seat next to you and strapped in. You thanked him, and he gave you a silent nod still chewing on his toothpick.

Echo and Tech gently landed the Marauder in the GAR main hangar bay and finished up the last cross check before disembarking. Wrecker was kind and offered to carry your duffle filled with your civvies and toiletries. You thanked him and followed him out of the Marauder. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, you smiled at the feeling of real sun on your skin.

Looking down the steps, you squealed, noticing all of the white and blue plastoid on the other side of the hangar bay. Running at full speed, you nearly tripped over your own feet, flinging yourself at Kix.

He noticed you last minute and swooped you up into his arms, “Hey Tiny! I didn’t know you were on rotation already?” He picked you up and spun you around before putting you down. Your excitement to see your old unit was overwhelming; you couldn’t help but smile as more of your friends on the 501st ran over to give you a hug or a playful shove.

You missed the way Wrecker gawked at your reaction to the Regs. “Well, she certainly doesn’t do that with us,” Tech noted, watching you rub up against the alphas in a comforting manner, purring under their affection.

“Fucking Regs,” Crosshair groused.

Echo remembered how fond you are of the 501st. He remembered when you were a newbie just starting your medical field days bonding with General Tano as teens. He felt a little nostalgic watching you with his vod. He laughed remembering how Ahsoka would scent you before sending you out into the field. They loved you so much.

Tech noted how comfortable you were with their touch and scenting. Something no one in their unit ever attempted with you. Of course, they were aware of your designation, but they tried their hardest to be respectful. Hunter had made it extremely clear no one was supposed to touch you unless necessary. It had been six months of your service on their unit, and no one has ever gotten this close with you except Wrecker, but it wasn’t anything like that.

The alpha in Tech was a little upset by this. Why didn’t the omega feel comfortable with them?

Hunter listened to the way you preened under their attention, and his chest pained a bit hearing your purrs. Was he… jealous? No. That’s his medic, that's all. He had read your file; you’d been with them for most of the war. Of course, that would make you closer. He could smell the happy pheromones you spread from where they were. You were happy with the 501st’s attention; it wasn’t something he knew you craved.

“I’m here for quarterlies,” you tapped your shoulder, “And I’m due for replacement.” You sighed. “Ahh,” Kix smirked, “Difficult enough dealing with us reg alphas huh? Gotta deal with defects now too huh? Got that implant working overtime.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him.

A cough behind you caught your attention. You spun around to see your unit catching up, looking a little perturbed, especially Crosshair. He’s never warmed up to the Regs and didn’t particularly like you sharing your fond stories about them. You usually keep to yourself in his presence or else he’d get a little hostile.

“Sarge,” Kix greeted with a head tilt.

“Kix,” Hunter gave him a polite nod, “Captain.” He looked beyond you.

You spun around, “Rex!” You ran at him, wrapping yourself around your old captain. “Hey kid,” he laughed, giving you a pat on the head looking down at you.

“I’m older than you, Captain,” you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“So you like to remind me,” he laughed, suddenly realizing how much he had missed you.

You stepped back with a huge smile. Suddenly everything was starting to feel good again. 90 rotations didn’t seem so terrible anymore. You giggled as they all filed in demanding to know how you’ve been.

“We’re heading to 79’s later,” Jesse smiled, “You gotta come Y/N. I wanna hear about your adventures to the outer rim.”

“Especially me,” Fives trotted forwards shoving you playfully aside before embracing his brother Echo, “Vod!” He hugged Echo tight. Echo relaxed into his hug and gave him a curt smile. “How you doing?” Fives asked, wrapping his arm around Echo’s shoulder before walking off with him towards the barracks to no doubt catch up.

“I got a replacement due,” you sighed, “I can’t drink but I’ll stop by for a bit to catch up!”

They all seemed to light up at that, “See you there, kid!” Captain Rex gave you a nod and turned on his heel to get back to work and make sure the General’s Venator was getting proper maintenance.

“C’mon, Pip,” Hunter was leading the others towards the medical campus for their quarterlies.

You huffed, “Coming, Sarge.”

“Pip?” You heard the others laugh a bit at your new nickname when you trailed off behind your new unit. Damn their long legs you were struggling to hold pace with them.

Crosshair gave you an incredulous look watching you try to catch up. You gave it right back to him.

“Miss your precious Regs?” He sneered. You didn’t miss the way Tech’s shoulders stiffened. Wrecker and Hunter pretended not to hear, but you knew they did. You suddenly missed having Echo as your defense.

“What?” You looked at him.

“You heard me,” he growled.

“Of course I missed my old unit. I haven’t seen them in six standard months, Crosshair.”

“That all?” He was cold.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You stopped and crossed your arms forcing him to stop walking.

Crosshair pointed his toothpick at you, “Throwing yourself at a bunch of alphas like a bitch in hea-”

“Enough!” Hunter growled.

Your cheeks burned red. How dare he. You looked to Wrecker and then Tech but the looks on their faces didn’t exactly show any support for you. Did they agree?…Maker. Wrecker lowered his gaze which surprised you the most.

Crosshair never really said much to you besides if you asked him an immediate question about his health or an injury. He usually somewhat avoided you. But you never thought he disliked you, at least up until now. The disgust was obvious on his face.

You just shook your head and continued stalking towards the medical campus, ignoring Hunter’s call. Your shore-leave was becoming more and more desirable by the second. You wanted space especially from Mr. dark and gloomy.

Deciding you’ve had enough of them, you detoured for your department entrance leaving them to go into the main medical campus alone. You knew Tech had all of your reports stowed on his datapad records. They would survive without you at least for now. You thought you heard Wrecker whimper behind you, but the sound of ion engines priming drowned out the rest before you stepped inside the medic clinic. Fuck Crosshair. What a dickhead.

You shook your head knowing you had other things to focus on besides his stupid little attitude.

Passing through multiple security clearances, you stepped into the sterile clinic’s main lobby.

“Medic Y/L/N?” You heard a familiar soft voice.

“Hi Layla.” You smiled sweetly at the nurse who you came to know during your training program. Being an omega, she opted to stay on base instead of venturing out into the battle fronts she was definitely more gentle mannered than yourself. You preferred some action and excitement.

“In for your quarterly’s?”

"Yeah, and I need a new replacement implant," you muttered as you trailed behind Layla toward one of the deserted exam rooms. The clinical white walls felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaotic memories you shared here. You reminisced about your early days serving the GAR, where Layla and you tended to wounded soldiers and even brushed shoulders with the occasional Jedi. But that was before you were transferred to General Skywalker’s unit, thrust into the heart of battle and endless repairs for him and his Padawan. You missed the simplicity of those days, the camaraderie with Layla.

”How’s the 501st treating you?" Layla's voice broke through your reverie as she handed you a crumpled paper gown.

"I got transferred to Special Forces 99," you replied, shedding your uniform behind the flimsy curtain. "They’re a different breed, that's for sure."

"Clone Force 99?" Layla's eyebrows rose in curiosity.

“Yeah.” you confirmed, feeling a flicker of amusement at her reaction.

As Layla chewed on her pen, a mischievous glint danced in her eyes. "The Sergeant’s pretty hot."

Your cheeks flushed, and you nearly stumbled over your words before recovering. “Layla…” You gawked.

She giggled and sat down on her roller stool. "Don’t lie and say you’ve never thought about it."

Well, obviously you’ve thought about it. They’re all honestly pretty hot, but you’d never admit that out loud.

"Now where have you seen Hunter like that?" you giggled at her cheekiness.

"I watch the holonet streams every once in a while. Especially after the retrieval on Skako Minor, General Skywalker and Sergeant CT-9901 were all over the holonet for weeks," she mused. "An omega’s wet dream."

You screamed and threw your boot at her. You two looked at each other momentarily before bursting out into a fit of laughter. Man, you missed Layla. Honestly, you just missed having another girl to talk to. This was such a refresher from the overwhelming amount of Alpha.

You hopped up on the table, lying down, trying to get comfortable.

"What’s he like?" her tone shifted into mischief.

You hesitated, memories of Hunter flooding your mind. "He’s… different. Polite, I guess."

Layla raised an eyebrow, her expression demanding the truth. “Girl…” she slapped your shoulder, grabbing her scanner to document your entire system from head to toe.

"Well, I don’t know!" you put your hands up in defense. "He’s quite the gentleman. None of them so much as look, Layla, I swear."

She just looked at you with a raised brow while she continued her work, “Yeah right.”

"But…" you smirked, watching her work, "I do know the tattoos go to his feet…" you bit your lip.

Now it was her turn to choke. "You’re lying…" Her interest was piqued.

You shook your head. "Full skeleton all the way down his arm, ribs, thigh…"

You two sighed.

She finished her scan and input the data before sliding her roller chair right next to you. "Everywhere?"

You raised a brow. "Everywhere," you confirmed with a nod.

She put her hand over her chest in a dramatic manner before prepping the numbing agent for your implant.

You remembered the day you found out this information about your Sergeant. Up until this point, you’d only seen maybe an arm or some knuckles in your medical repairs, but this time Hunter had taken a pretty bad hit to his side and thigh. Multiple blaster wounds had torn him up, and Tech had helped him limp back to the ship before they both collapsed on the floor. You had flung yourself out of your bunk at the commotion only to realize what had happened.

Tech helped you tear off Hunter’s armor and helmet, trying to figure out where the wounds were. Luckily, they hadn’t gone through, and it was mostly just surface wounds, but you still had to cut through his blacks to get to it, leaving his entire left side exposed. He had growled at you, but Tech had set him straight. He was just in pain.

That’s when you realized his entire left side was tattooed like his face, all the way down to his feet. You mumbled a quick apology before starting your cleaning process and bacta application.

The wounds had healed up nicely, but he had to re-tattoo the fresh skin the next time they had shore-leave. You had also stowed away the information of how muscular he was. The man was truly a work of art.

A sharp jab snapped you out of your memories when Layla removed the old suppressor implant. You yelped when the new one went in, making you a bit dizzy with pain. You hissed when she retracted the mechanism.

"There we go," she beamed. "Good as new."

"Thanks, Layla," you said, sitting up, letting her bandage the small incision wound with a bacta patch. The soothing coldness was immediate. You sighed in relief as the pain dulled.

"I told Rex I’d be at 79’s later, if you want to come?" you offered, slipping from the table to give her a hug.

"As much as I’d love to play with the captain, I have so much work to catch up on for quarterly's. I better stay here," she sighed, pushing her chair back into place. "But you have fun, and enjoy your time off. Come back to visit if you get bored."

You giggled. "I will." And with that, she left you to change back into your uniform before leaving the medic’s clinic. The hangar bay was significantly more empty now as you made your way over to civilian transport. After exiting the security checkpoint, you made your way over to the clone transport. "Can you take me to residential?" you asked the officer in the pilot’s seat. He gave you a nod, and you settled back into the transport’s seats. With a sigh, you were finally starting to relax a bit. You knew the boys were probably already back at their barracks after their examinations, so you knew they wouldn’t be bothering you for at least a few rotations.

When you finally arrived to the GAR residential building you gave the driver a thanks before hoping out and skipping over to the front door. You couldn’t wait to get to your quarters and enjoy a long hot shower. Swiping your clearance card, you dashed into the elevator to your floor and into your room. It smelled like you needed to open a window but other then that is was just as you left it. Knowing you’d have to get some food delivered, you gave a dramatic sigh while kicking off your regulation boots. You went to unzip your uniform top when you heard the swish of clothing and a familiar scoff.

You turned suddenly seeing Crosshair standing in your kitchen in his civvies looking tall and menacing.

“Maker! Crosshair!” You put a hand on your chest, “You scared me!”

“Sorry little one.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.

You looked around suddenly remembering you’re in YOUR apartment.

“What the hell are you doing here Crosshair?” You narrowed your gaze at him getting mad all over again.

“Hunter is making me apologize for earlier.” He grumbled around his toothpick.

You hummed, “How did you get in here?”

He held up the Sergeant’s entry card. Of course… dammit Hunter.

“Here.” He slid your duffle across the floor to you. A peace offering. You were grateful for that at least.

A deep pang in your shoulder made you grimace “Thanks.” You unzipped your uniform top leaving you in your bindings not caring if he looked. He didn’t seem phased anyways. The bacta patch stained red with your blood. He narrowed his eyes to the incision. You knelt down to your duffle and pulled out your field kit. You grabbed a dose of pain killer and brought the injector up to the wound site. You pressed the mechanism and the needle stabbed you quickly injecting the medicine. You rolled your shoulder and replaced the bacta patch seeing the wound turning to a simple line. Soon it would be gone in a few hours.

“So?” You looked at the tall sniper.

He lifted a brow.

You crossed your arms, “Your apology?”

He snorted and stood up straight before walking past you.

“Sorry.” He mumbled before stepping back out into the hallway and disappearing.

You sighed knowing that was all you’re going to get from the grumpy soldier. Whatever, you’d take it.

~~~

The shower that followed was worth it. You had never felt so clean in your few years in this universe. The piping hot water cleansed you of three standard months of sweat, bomb residue, and blood. You scrubbed and scrubbed until your skin flared red before you stepped out of the shower to get ready. Throwing on your favorite civvies and some makeup, you quickly dried your hair before throwing on your regulation boots. Grabbing your com and a few credits. You practically skipped out of your apartment making a beeline for 79’s. You couldn’t wait to catch up with your old friends.

When you arrived, you heard an uproar of men yelling your name. You looked over to see Fives, Jesse, Kix, and the others wave you over.

“Tiny!” You got tackled by Fives. He put you in a headlock and ruffled your hair despite your cries. You shoved him off of you knowing he must have scented you in the process.

“Ugh! Fives you reek.” You scrunched your nose smelling the alpha on him it was stronger then usual.

“Sorry tiny.” He laughed rubbing the back of his neck, “We gotta get our implants replaced too.”

You shook your head and plopped down in the booth next to Kix with a laugh. He shoved the snack plate in your face continuing his conversation with another soldier to his right. You were starving and started munching down on the mantell mix.

“Hope that wont be a problem kid.” Rex smiled at you.

You just yanked your collar down to show them the patch, “All good captain.”

That made them relax. The 501st is many things, but they were always chivalrous towards you. Being their favorite omega and all, they had always taken a very protective stance with you. None of them tried anything and they had always kept away the creeps. You were thankful for their protection.

Your current hoard of alphas though, you didn’t really know where you stood with them. They kind of pretended like you weren’t there. You quickly realized they weren’t used to working with strangers, and an omega of all things. At first they treated you like a fragile little thing. Like they were worried they’d step on you. They couldn’t help but stare. You didn’t really blame them. Eventually it wore off and they seemed to become a bit more comfortable with your presence. Until it became normal. Except Crosshair, he never seemed to warm up to you and kept you at arms length.

“So how’s your new unit?” Fives asked sounding a bit jealous.

You giggled, “They’re.. nice.”

They all looked at you.

“What?” You shrunk under their looks. Even Rex stared.

“Nice?” Jesse laughed.

“That’s not exactly the word I’d use.” Rex raised a brow, “You’re okay, right kid?”

You opened your mouth in shock, “Guys I’m okay. I swear.”

They visibly relaxed.

“Look, it took some getting used to. I don’t think they’ve ever been around strangers before they’re very close. Clearly. Eventually they warmed up. Except the sniper. I think he might actually not like me.”

Fives just scoffed, “It’s because your’e hot cyar’ika”

Jesse punched him in the stomach. Fives doubled over and everyone at the table grumbled at him. You just felt your cheeks burn up and you hid behind Kix’s shoulder.

“Fives…” Rex sighed.

“What?” He choked out, “I’m just saying. I don’t think those defects have been anywhere near a woman much less an omega. Aye!” He blocked Jesse’s punch again.

“What omega?” You heard a gruff voice approach.

It was Commander Wolffe and the pack still in uniform. Rex got up and clapped him on the shoulder getting him settled in. He placed his helmet on the table and peered over at you.

“I don’t think we’ve met cyar’ika.” He grinned at you showing off his scar and grey iris.

You felt your heart rate increase under his intense stare. You could tell this alpha was seasoned, first generation from the looks of him. You were certain that if you didn’t have your implant, you'd be keening for his attention. Instead, you submissively lowered your gaze and leaned into Kix a bit. He wrapped an arm around you and looked up at the Commander, saying, “This is Y/N; we call her Tiny.” He shook you playfully, adding, “She used to be our medic. Now she’s with the 99’s.”

Wolffe let out a low whistle. “The 99’s? Must be exciting. Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, extending a hand, which you took, giving it a good shake. His calloused fingers lingered a bit as he ran them over your soft knuckles.

Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you said, “Nice to meet you, Commander,” giving him a polite smile.

He smiled back, clearly pleased with your attention. Oh, he liked you, you thought to yourself. He then gently released your hand and turned to his men. “Let’s get a round of drinks. We’re off for quarterly’s!”

His men let out a whooping shout, and the waitress took down their orders. The pack quickly became rowdy, opting for roughhousing with each other and the shinies. After a long while of dodging his gaze and eating the food Kix placed in front of you, you decided you needed a cold glass of water and squeezed out from under Kix’s arm. The stench of so many alphas was starting to become too much, even with the implant. You were praying they couldn’t smell the nervousness on you.

Walking up to the bar, the woman smiled at you. She recognized you, as you usually spent your time with the boys when you were off. She gave you a little wave and bounced over, asking what you wanted.

“Just water for me,” you smiled. She smiled back and went to fill up your glass.

“What’s a pretty little omega doing in a place like this?” a shiny walked up to you, placing himself uncomfortably close to your back. You turned, facing him square on. Despite all clones being created as alphas, this one was young and stupid. Your omega instincts told you he’d be a weak mate. You noticed the lack of markings and scratches on his armor. He’s barely seen anything, you realized.

“I’m here with my friends,” you replied curtly, taking the glass of ice water from the bartender with a nod. You went to move away, but he caught your arm in a tight grip. Not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to assert his dominance and stop you from leaving. You just looked at his hand and then up to his face.

“I wasn’t done with you… omega,” he leered, leaning forward to run his nose closer to your scent glands. Your heart rate increased for all the wrong reasons. Fear started to creep up inside you the longer he had his hands on you. Now you wished Fives had scented you for real.

“Why are you messing with my medic?”

You stiffened.

Hunter’s smokey voice cut through the music of the club making your entire spine tingle. Hunter had used his Alpha tone making you tremble in spot. The shiny suddenly looked up eyes going wide. He quickly released you and saluted Hunter.“Sorry Seargant. I didn’t know she was yours.”

“Hmm” Hunter dismissed him and grabbed you by the same arm the shiny had just moments ago, except this time the touch didn’t feel dangerous. Instead it made your stomach flip. He’d never touched you unless it was for medical purposes. You couldn’t help the little preen inside you bubbling up. Alpha Protects. He lead you past the shiny and over to an empty booth in the back of the club. You could hear Layla’s voice ringing in your head. She’d be eating this up right now. You prayed your pheromones didn’t give you away.

He finally let you go when you reached the booth waiting for you to slide in. You immediately missed the warmth of his bare hand. You realized they were all in their civvies, well except tech, he still had his helmet near by. The rest of them slid into the booth following suit.

“She’s smells like Regs.” Wrecker crinkled his nose. Between, Fives, Kix, and the shiny you knew you reeked.

“Sorry.” You mumbled taking a sip of your water still a little pissed with them.

“You okay pip?” Hunter asked looking you in the eyes. You suddenly shied away from his gaze looking down at his shirt collar nodding. His eyes were too intense. You usually didn’t have a problem, but you were still trebling from the effects of his voice lingering.

“Did something happen?” Tech asked from around Hunter’s shoulder.

“I’m alright. Just a dumb shiny.” You felt like you were being suffocated by their stares.

They laughed a bit at that.

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore.” Wrecker shoved you under his arm and rubbed his scent all over you. You coughed and sputtered trying to shove him away but it was no use. Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Alright Wrecker enough.” Hunter sighed looking down at you drowning in alpha, “She’s covered.”

“Ugh.” You tried to straightening out your hair and top a bit, “Easy next time big guy. I think every alpha for a mile can smell me now.”

He just gleamed. You couldn’t help but be a bit grateful. It seems like everyone was due for an updated implant. The smells were getting to be out of control. No one would come near you now. Even the rough housing seemed to be a little aggressive than usual. They had asked you about the wolf pack but you just shrugged watching their rough housing turn into full on brawls.

The boys continued talking about something random that Tech had info dumped about and Wrecker of course was confused. You continued to sip on your ice water before you heard your name being called. You popped your head up from the booth to find Fives looking for you. You sighed and put your cup down. Part of you didn’t want to go back because of the attention the commander was giving you, but the other part of you wanted to spend some time with Rex and the boys. Damn these alphas.

Opting to stay where you were, Fives and the boys decided to come over towards you. Knowing this was probably going to go badly, you shrunk into the booth. Hunter eyed you before he heard Crosshair snarl. A large group of Regs came trotting over to come socialize like a bunch of drunk pups. They all pulled up chairs and surrounded the booth with their rambunctiousness.

“Where’d you go Tiny?” Jesse was sloshed. Leaning over Fives who was barely holding himself together.

“Tiny, did you see the way the commander was looking at you?” Fives shoved Jesse off of him, “I think he’s trying to-” he jiggled his brows suggestively at you and you just shook your head and wanted to melt into the table. Please not this. Not with my commanding officer present. Not my very hot commanding officer present. You wanted to slap Layla why did she have to start putting these thoughts into your head.

“Commander Wolffe?” Tech asked for clarification.

Fives just nodded taking another big sip from his cup.

“Someone shoot me.” You covered your face you were too sober for this conversation. You could feel Crosshairs smirk from across the table.

“Awh pip.” Wrecker just grabbed you again and shook you around, “The Commander thinks you’re prettyyyy.”

Fives and Jesse giggled. Hunter and the others just looked uncomfortable. Obviously they weren’t the most social, nor playful. This was just embarrassing. Your only comfort was Wrecker. He was always the nicest anyways. You just tucked yourself into his side forgetting his betrayal earlier.

“The Commander wants to rut with Y/N?” Tech asked.

“Maker.” You wanted to dissipate into thin air.

“Mhmm.” Jesse and Fives nodded with cheesy grins, “she gave him the eyes.”

You scoffed, “I did not!”

“Yeah you did!” Fives giggles. He then looked at Jesse and re-enacted the whole scene dramatically, “It’s nice to meet you commander.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Jesse and held his hand. You groaned and put your head down on the table.

“I need a drink.” You whimpered not able to take the teasing.

“Is that wise?” Tech chimed in, “You just had your implant replaced. It’s advised to not drink for the first 24 hours or else it may be ineffective.”

“Kriff.” You sighed.

“And that’s my cue to come rescue Tiny.” Kix interjected and yanked you up from the booth taking you far away from this painfully awkward conversation. You thanked him profusely letting him guide you.

“You’re nervous when you’re sober.” He laughed walking over to the dance floor with you.

“I’m nervous because of my Sergeant.” You whisper in his ear. He just gives you a questionable look. You laugh and shake your head, “A friend of mine said something today and I can’t get it out of my stupid omega head.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow dancing to the beat.

“Shut up.” You laughed praying Hunter couldn’t hear you over the yelling and music, “They also don’t like the “Regs,” you shook your head.

“Well I know why.” He replied spinning you around.

“Why?” You asked swaying to the beat.

“Everyone was so mean to them growing up. Kids are horrible you know. But because they’re different they definitely dealt with a lot during training days.” Kix informed you. Suddenly everything made sense. Especially why Crosshair can’t seem to socialize with Regs to save his life.

“Plus, the Captain decked the sniper on Skako Minor.” Kix said cheekily.

You dropped your jaw, “Rex?” You couldn’t believe it. There’s no way level headed Rex lost it with Crosshair.

“Oh yeah.” He laughed, “They got into it while trying to find Echo.”

“No way.” You couldn’t believe it. While dancing you peered over at the table to find the four 99’s watching you completely ignoring the drunk shenanigans from the 501st boys. The only one interacting was Echo. You could tell there was a part of him that missed his brothers. They continued to drink and talk amongst themselves while you and Kix danced on the floor. Some of the other 501st boys joined you before linking up with pretty omegas vying for their attention. Clearly their interests were else where.

You definitely didn’t miss the way the Commander seemed to be unable to take his eyes off of you from his chair. You chose to ignore him.

An alpha like that could send you into heat with or without an implant. You however had a job to do, and being stuck in his bed for a week wouldn’t suffice. The mortification of even thinking about returning to the Marauder after that. You couldn’t even go there. Crosshair would literally never let you hear the end of it. He might shove you out of the airlock when you weren’t expecting it.

Kix seemed to be reading your mind and elected to giggle. You slapped him on the arm and he feigned injury. Just then, you noticed the Commander stand and seemingly decide to come your way. Feeling there to flee, you quickly hugged Kix and made a dart for the door. Grabbing your comm you let the boys know you’d be returning to your apartment but to your dismay, Hunter replied…

“Don’t bother we just got special orders. We’re shipping out tonight.” He sounded tired. So much for shore-leave.

“Ugh.” You whined turning to the taxi waiting by the club entrance. You put your comm away in your pocket and fished around for a few credits ignoring the way the cool evening air chilled your skin.

“Something wrong Cyar’ika?” The gruff voice you were dreading came from behind you. Damn your omega tendencies. You turned keeping your eyes lowered.

“Everything is alright Commander.” You replied sweetly, “I just got informed my break has been cut short. We ship out again tonight.”

He sighed stepping forwards and placed his pointer finger under your chin to tilt your head up. You nearly whimpered looking into his scarred eye. Alpha’s strong. Alpha likes you. Alpha smells good. Really good. You wanted to whine when his eye zeroed in on yours. He wanted your eyes on him that was for certain. Maybe a breakout heat with the Commander wouldn’t be too bad…

“Well if you ever need anything you let me know, yeah?” The Commander smiled wolfishly at you and released you. You took a deep breath and took a step back and nodded your head.

“Y/N?” You heard Tech’s call come to your rescue, “Do you need a ride?”

You grabbed your comm and quickly responded with shaking hands, “Yeah that would be nice thank you Tech.”

It wasn’t long until their speeder arrived and you turned back to the Commander who had no issue walking you over to your unit. You could tell by Hunter skeptical glance that he was trying to figure out the situation. The Commander passed you over to your men and have you a nod before putting his helmet back on and walking back into the club.

“What was that about?” Hunter asked with a raised brow.

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” You shook your head and practically dove into the speeder.

“Did the Commander proposition you?” Tech asked pushing his glasses back up.

You squeaked and hid in the backseat.

“Stop bothering her.” Echo shook his head. Thank the maker for Echo.

“It was a harmless question.” Tech justified, “As we were talking about his strange attentions earlier and Y/N’s even more unordinary response according to the Regs.”

You looked out the window of the speeder at the endless city below, “I’m going to jump.” You half joked.

“Tech please drop it.” Echo implored, “You’re making her uncomfortable… and me.”

“It’s just biological responses.” Tech grumbled into his data pad, “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You sighed. This was going to be another long mission, and then you were going to take it upon yourself to insure you got a vacation. Hopefully there was something Rex could do to get you some time off for real this time far away from all of these men.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

This part one, I'll be posting regularly to this story, I hope y'all enjoy!

#bad batch #abo #abobadbatch #smut #fanfic #hunter #crosshair #wrecker #tech #echo #501st #cloneforce99 #79's #star wars #clonewars

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discount-shades · 1 year

Text

Contract Spouse Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Divorce Papers

A/N: Just the epilogue to go!

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader (nicknamed Pip)

Warning: Angst,

Length: 2400 ish

Summary: Pip is massively hungover.

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The roiling in your stomach wakes you and you push off Jake’s arm and stumble to the bathroom before hunching over the toilet and emptying the contents of your stomach. Spitting, you flush and collapse to the floor and rest against the bathtub, unwilling to move with your stomach still so upset. You can feel the sweat beading your forehead, and you push your hair out of your face before wiping your mouth. Judging by how you feel you are likely still drunk.

This is why you rarely drank. If you ever had more than three drinks you would without fail be vomiting in the morning. You hear movement from the bed and groan, shame filling you at the reason you drank.

You had been so sure that Jake wanted to kiss you. You had initially been so proud of the fact you had taken the chance, never being one to make the first move. You had been elated when he kissed you back and heartbroken when he pulled away. Romance novels had led you astray. In real life just because a guy looks at your lips does not mean he wants you to kiss him.

When the light outside the bathroom flicks on you look up to see Jake in his boxers, staring blearily down at you from the doorway. You hide your face and kick the door shut on his face, unable to look at him. Despite just having woken up his reflexes are fast and he catches the edge before it closes.

You stare at his fingers curled around the edge of the door but he doesn’t open it. “Are you ok?” His voice is scratchy with sleep.

“Fucking peachy.” You grind out, hating the fact that he was checking on you and wishing he was still asleep.

“I’ll get you some water.”

“Don’t bother.” He either doesn't hear you or doesn’t listen. You watch his shadow leave the doorway, knowing it will be hours before you can drink water without throwing up, let alone eat anything. But Jake is a do-er, a protector. It’s why he married you. He would always go out of his way to help others.

You watch his hand enter the open doorway and awkwardly flail a bit before he is able to place the bottle on the counter. “Thanks,” you mutter trying to keep the resentment out of your voice.

“Can I come in?” You shake your head back and forth before the motion turns your stomach and you realize he can't see you.

“No.” At your answer you can hear him sigh in defeat.

“Can we talk about earlier?”

“No.”

“Ok.” You hear movement and you know without seeing that he is sitting on the floor outside the bathroom. You inch your way closer to the door and press it closed with your toe before grabbing a towel to use as a pillow and lying down on the floor. The tile feels good against your overheated skin.

– – –

Gentle knocking wakes you. “Pip? Honey? Checkout is in an hour.” You groan and try to force your stiff muscles into cooperation after hours on the cold, hard floor. You mumble a response before dragging yourself into the shower. After trading off with Jake and letting him into the bathroom you follow him into the lobby for check out, both of your bags slung over his shoulders.

You stand back observing him at the counter with a dead look on your face. Natasha wanders over. “How was your night?" she asks.

“Fine,” you try to give her a smile, but fail.

She pulls you into a hug and you return it, trying not to collapse into her arms. “You’re going to be ok,” she whispers. You know she is right. It will hurt like hell, but you will get over Jake.

“Do you want to get breakfast?” Jake asks as you climb into the passenger seat of his truck.

“I can’t eat anything, I just want to sleep.” You stare out the window, deliberately avoiding Jake’s gaze.

“We should talk—”

“No we shouldn't.” You cut in still deliberately staring out the window. “It was a stupid mistake. Let’s pretend it never happened.”

“But-–”

“No Jake, just drop it.” You can’t relive your humiliation. If he keeps talking, plugging your ears and humming loudly is a childish, but very real possibility. Thankfully he drops the conversation but you can feel his eyes every time he looks at you. When you get home you are out of the truck before it is even in park.

Jake meets you in the entrance way as you struggle with your shoes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to make you something to eat?”

You shake your head and walk into your bedroom, closing the door and flipping the lock. You strip, leaving a trail of clothes across the room before pulling on the shirt Jake had worn to sleep the last night he slept in your bed.

As much as you hate it, you have made up your mind. You pull the fabric up to your nose, taking comfort in the scent of Jake for what feels like the last time, and crawling into bed. You hug his pillow to your chest as you drift off to sleep.

It is late afternoon when you finally emerge from your room. You creep into the kitchen, listening and watching for Jake. When you find the room empty you make yourself a grilled cheese sandwich, adding extra cheese because you can and all the while downing glass after glass of water.

You are finishing your sandwich when Jake walks in the door carrying butter chicken from your favorite place. Your stomach growls despite the fact you just ate, and you dig in when he slides it across the table to you. The food keeps you from fleeing back to your room.

“It was a beautiful wedding.” Jake finally breaks the silence.

You hum in agreement, barely pausing in shoveling food into your mouth. The awkward silence returns and you focus on eating. When you are finally full you stand and put the leftovers in the fridge.

“We need to talk about the kiss Pip.”

“No we don’t, it was a mistake and I regret it.” You stand on either side of the island, staring at each other, and will power is the only thing that keeps you from breaking down. Jake isn’t as successful at keeping his emotions off of his face but his expression is changing too quickly to get a read on his feelings.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” Jake is the one to break the silence again and you can not tell by his tone what the meaning is behind the words.

“Yeah sorry,” you say in a rush, “I was half asleep this morning.” Panic grips you at what you know you have to do tomorrow, and knowing you have to make a clean break of it, you take off the shirt and toss it to Jake, avoiding his eyes and careful to keep your back to him as you flee the room. “Won’t happen again.” you say as you rush back to your bedroom, the air cool on your naked skin.

“Pip, that's not what I meant!” You hear Jake groan as you hurry to shut the door to your bedroom behind you.

– – –

He fucked everything up. At first, he wasn’t sure if your reluctance to talk was the result of the alcohol. Now he knew you regretted the kiss. The kiss that was the best thing that ever happened to him. His back was still stiff from where he had slept leaning against the bathroom door of the hotel room.

It’s too early for sleep and he can’t bring himself to go to bed alone so he sits on the couch, staring at your bedroom door until his lack of sleep catches up with him and he slumps sideways unconscious.

When he wakes the next morning he is covered in one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch and he knows you are the one who covered him. He also knows you are not home. He can’t explain it, but the house just feels different when you are not in it. There is a stillness to everything. When he walks into the kitchen he sees the papers on the counter. A blue pen sitting neatly beside them.

Divorce papers.

His stomach drops and he runs to your room. Everything you own is still there. Nothing moved or packed. The twisted knot in his stomach relaxes slightly at this. He returns to the kitchen and sees the note you had left him. ‘I thought we could sign these and get it over with so they are ready to file in a few months.’

He looks at the papers. Your name is neatly signed on your lines and there are little red ‘sign here’ arrows everywhere his signature is required. Jake buries his head in his arms and cries. When the initial sharp pain recedes he looks at the document. No matter what he wanted he had to respect your wishes.

In all your years together he has never read a single paper you put in front of him to sign. But today, wanting to delay the inevitable he painstakingly reads every line over and over again. Wanting to drag it out. When he is done he picks up the blue pen and shakily adds his signatures.

When he signs the final line he just sits there hollow, staring at the papers in front of him. You would want to know it was done. He pulls out his phone to text you but that feels too impersonal. Instead he flips to the location tracking app, fiddling with it to get it working. You had both shared your locations with each other years ago and this was the first time he had ever used it.

You've driven to a secluded beach north of the city. He grabs his keys and the papers and gets in his truck. Heart heavy the whole time.

He finds you sitting on the beach, hugging your knees and staring at the horizon. He calls your name softly and when you glance at him and don’t run he approaches and sits down beside you.

“I never knew I would love the ocean so much.” It’s the first thing you have said to him that isn’t you trying to avoid a conversation. “It’s calming, I’m going to miss it.”

Jake’s plan to just hand over the papers and wish you luck goes out the window as he stares at your red rimmed eyes. The cheap wedding band he bought you is still on your finger and he watches you wiggle it back and forth, the sun catching on the small diamonds. “I don’t want to get divorced,” he blurts out.

“I don’t think we will get away with a second investigation.” Your sad smile breaks his heart. “I don’t think the money and benefits are worth it.”

“That’s not what I…” Jake takes a deep breath and runs his hands over his face. He stares at the papers in his lap and hands them over to you trying to keep the tremble out of his fingers. He watches you stare down at the pages, eyes sliding over his signature. You press your lips together and he thinks he sees tears in your eyes.

“I’m in love with you Pip.” He stares out at the water unable to look at you, but he has to tell you. You have to know. “You are everything to me and I didn't realize it until marriage counseling and I want you to stay, I want it to be real. I want the whole thing, white picket fence, the 2.3 kids, and the dog. I want to come home to you and tell you about my day and hear about yours, and cook together, and do dishes together. I want to kiss you goodnight and wake up with you in my arms. And it is so unfair to you but I have to tell you.”

“Jake,” your voice breaks as you say his name.

“No, I have to say this, let me finish,” Jake tries to clear his throat. “I’m not saying this to guilt you into anything. I’m going to be ok, I’ll keep going to therapy. You don’t owe me anything, you’ve done enough.” The tears are streaming down his face and when he looks at you he sees that you are crying too. “I can do the rest on my own. I just… I have to tell you that marrying you was the best thing I have ever done and I’ll always love you so much. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

At your muffled sob he pulls you into a sideways hug and you immediately wrap your arms around him and collapse into his side. “I would like to be your friend, if I could, that’s all I ask.” When you squeeze him tighter he feels the clenching in his heart loosen. As long as you were in his life in some way he would be ok.

You pull away and face him on your knees. “Why didn’t you kiss me back at the wedding if you love me?” Your eyes are searching his, and he can see the insecurity in them.

“I thought you were drunk,” he sighs, “and I didn’t want to take advantage of you, then Fanboy said you weren’t drinking.”

“I was sober when I kissed you.” Your soft voice is almost drowned out by the waves and he leans closer so he can hear you. “If you had known I was sober would that have changed things?”

Hope sparks in his chest. “It would have changed everything.”

– – –

He is staring at your lips again. His eyes that had moments ago been heartbroken and streaming tears had a light in them. A flicker of hope. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. It had been beating that way since he started talking and said everything you wanted to hear.

You tentatively raise your hand and still the tremble in your fingers when you press it to his cheek. Jake’s eyes flutter closed as you gently rub your thumb against his cheekbone, swiping away the remnants of the tears. “What if I kissed you now?” You press your lips together trying to hide how scared you were despite everything you heard him say.

“Darlin’, only if you want everything I want.” His green eyes open and you can see the hope and uncertainty you feel reflected in them. A thousand possible outcomes of your and Jake’s relationship fade away and the future you both want solidifies as you lean forward to press your lips to his.

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman/reader #top gun hangman #topgun maverick #hangman topgun #topgun #topgun hangman

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syllvane · 10 months

Text

you can hear it in the silence- roy kent x reader

a/n: roy kent x tartt!reader. no pronouns specified iirc. content warnings for alcohol and growing up with a shitty father. ask to tag. yes this is 3.2k words no i dont want to talk about it

You’re outside the bar at your brothers birthday- the night is cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the crowded nosiness of the bar.

You loved Jamie, probably more than anything, and Keeley was always a sweetheart, but that didn’t change the fact that you weren’t AFC Richmond.

You don’t get the inside looks, the intricacies of everyone’s friendships with one another.

“Oi,” A gruff voice said from behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin before whipping around and seeing none other than Roy Kent. “Did I scare you?”

“No, that’s how I react to everyone.” You deadpanned. “You’re Roy, right? Jamie talks about you a lot.”

He nodded.

“You his girlfriend?” He asked and your face scrunched up.

“Ew, fuck no. I’m his sibling.” You snorted and his lips turned upwards slightly.

“Right, he’s mentioned you. Usually calls you ‘Pip’.”

You cringed.

“Of course he does.” You said, shaking you head as you looked back towards the bar fondly. “Thank you for training him. It means a lot of him, more than he’ll admit.”

“He’s a good kid. Not bad company.” He said thoughtfully. “I’ll flat out deny it if you repeat it though.”

“Oi! I asked you to go find Pip, not chat them up!” Jamie said, walking out and looking between the two. “Is he boring you to death? He has a tendency to do that.”

“He thought I was your girlfriend.” You said, smile on your lips. Jamie groaned and put a hand on Roy’s shoulder.

“Ew,” He said, tone of voice the exact same as yours a moment before. “How did you not know that Pip’s my sister?”

“I know Pip is your sibling. You didn’t call them that.” Roy said, only slightly annoyed.

“Oh, whatever. Come back in, I missed you.” Jamie said to you.

“You know I’ve been gone maybe five minutes. I didn’t even expect you to notice I was gone.”

He looked at Roy incredulously, as if saying ‘can you believe that?’ before turning back towards you.

“Of course I noticed, now come on.” He started towards the bar and you rolled your eyes.

“It was nice formally meeting you, Roy.” You said, smiling slightly as you turned and walked with Jamie.

He smiled back- not that either of you could see- before following you both back into the bar.

The Richmond players cheered at Jamie’s reappearance- you laughed, turning to look at Roy, your smile warm and eyes curious, meeting his. Your eyes lingered until you tore them away, Keeley speaking to you.

“It’s no longer my birthday, so go on then.” Jamie said, looking at you as you both walked through the streets of Richmond.

“What are you talking about?” You asked and he scoffed slightly.

“It’s past midnight.”

“Not what I meant.”

“You like Roy.” He said and you groaned.

“I do not.

“Do too.”

“Do n- we aren’t doing this.”

Jamie pouted slightly, but didn’t argue.

“Y’know, obviously I don’t like the idea of you with anyone from Richmond, just because I’d learn more about you than I ever want to know-”

“Thank you for that, Jamie.”

“- but Roy is a good man. Better than most. You’d have my blessing.” He finished, taking a deep breathe and you smiled, stopping and hugging him.

“You’re very sweet, Jamie. I don’t even know Roy, though. Is he attractive? Yeah.”

“Ew.” Jamie commented, voice muffled from the hug.

“I’m ignoring that. But I don’t know him.”

Jamie pulled away, looking at you.

“You could.”

For a second, her heart thrummed with the possibility. You thought of the way his gaze fell on you- what would it be like to kiss him, to-

You simply smiled, not trusting your voice, and squeezed Jamie’s shoulder.

“You’re sweet, the best brother, y’know?”

“I do,” He said cheekily. “Nice to hear it though.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, willing yourself to enjoy the moment instead of thinking about Roy Kent,

Well, at least for a little bit.

When you arrive home to a dark, empty apartment, your mind wanders.

You hate it- hate that you keep thinking about him, hate that you don’t want to stop.

What if they dated and broke up? It would ruin Jamie and Roy’s friendship.

And even that assumes that Roy even noticed you in the first place. You were no model and he was gorgeous and-

“Fuck!” You cursed to the empty apartment, breaking the train of thought.

You were too tired for this, for thinking in circles about things that would never happen.

It’s not a week later when Jamie’s car won’t start and he asks you to pick him up from practice.

Hence your waiting in the Richmond parking lot, waiting for Jamie to hop in the car.

A knock on your window made you jump in your seat, only to look up and see one Roy Kent.

Ah, fuck.

You rolled your window down, looking at him.

“Fucking hell, you’ve got to stop that.” You said, heart still racing.

“And here I thought you reacted to everyone that way.” He said dryly and a small laugh escaped your lips.

“Only you, apparently.”

“Are you waiting for Jamie?” He asked, head cocked slightly.

“What? Oh. Yeah. Did practice run late?”

“He’s doing PR stuff. He’ll likely take a while.”

“Oh. Huh.” You did your best to keep your expression neutral.

“He didn’t tell you.” Roy said, realization dawning on his face.

“Yeah, he may have neglected to mention it.”

“Fuck. I was gonna… do you want a tour?” He asked, causing your brain to fully stop for a second.

“A tour?”

Roy blinked.

“Of the clubhouse.”

Out of instinct, maybe, you open your mouth to say that Higgins took you on a tour of the clubhouse one of the first times you were inside the clubhouse.

Then, you closed it and nodded.

“I would love one.”

More interesting than the clubhouse itself is the way Roy talks about it, the affection that lies in every word he says.

And then, he took you out onto the pitch, the one place Higgins didn’t cover.

“It feels much bigger when you’re actually on it.” You said softly, taking your eyes off Roy.

He looked at you, gaze uncharacteristically soft before forcing himself to look anywhere else.

“You wanna take a shot at the goal?” He asked and you whipped around to look at him.

“I don’t think I’m… am I even allowed?” You asked and Roy let out the smallest laugh, startling you.

“Sorry, I was just trying to picture your brother saying that. Yes, you’re allowed.” He said, passing a ball fo you that had been sitting by his feet.

You- to your great surprised- received the pass and then looked back at the pitch before shaking your head slightly.

“Jamie’s the one with all the football talent. I feel like I gotta work my way up to this.” You said and he grunted. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged.

“You’re selling yourself short.”

“You’re right. I’m actually the one with all the football talent.” You deadpanned. “I’m- hey!”

With a surprising swift move, Roy took off and stole the ball from you, walking casually towards the goal.

You followed him further onto the field until you were about twelve meters from the goal.

“Roy, what are we doing?”

“You are taking a penalty.”

“Are you going to be goalie?”

“Fuck no. I’m retired.”

You smiled, looked at him.

“You’re selling yourself short.” You said, trying to imitate his voice. He rolled his eyes.

“Penalties, it’s just you and the goalie.”

“There’s no goalie.”

Roy ignored this.

“You want to always look at the goalie when you’re shooting, to see which way they’re leaning towards.”

“Looks like this goalie is on vacation?” Someone- Jamie- said, emerging from the clubhouse. “Aren’t you supposed to be gone? Bingo or something, granddad?”

Roy grunted, staring daggers at Jamie.

“You had plans? I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I wanted to. And it wasn’t bingo. It was yoga.” He said, the end of the sentence pointed towards Jamie.

Jamie held his hands up in defense and you smiled slightly.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely and Roy offered you a small nod before walking away.

Once he was out of earshot, Jamie looked over and started laughing slightly.

”What?” She asked. “You could have told me that you had a PR thing.”

“That’s not nearly as fun, is it?” He said, before smiling. “It’s all on your face, you know.”

“What?” You repeated and he looked at you, same strange smile on his lips.

“You like him. It’s written all over your face.”

“Jamie-”

“I know, I know. You don’t like him, or whatever.” He said with disbelief.

“Yeah,” You said. Or whatever. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm.” He said, walking back towards the parking lot.

When Roy Kent shows up at your ex’s mom’s house, you’re almost positive that you’re dreaming.

When he looks at you and says “Fucking hell”, you snap back to reality.

“Roy, this is Sam’s ex- the super sweet one I was telling you about.” She said before turning to you. “This is Roy. He has the mouth of a sailor, but he’s a good boy.”

There’s a look of panic on Roy’s face for a moment, fading completely as you outstretched your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled. “How do you know Tabitha?”

“We uh… we do yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” He admitted.

“And shows on Fridays.” Tabitha helpfully supplied before handing a glass of red to Roy.

Roy nodded slightly, taking a sip.

“Of course, can’t forget the shows.” Roy said with no particular emotion.

“Right. Why don’t you two grab a spot on the couch?” Janice and Gertie will be here in five- you know how they are.”

In the noisy living room, one of the older ladies in the room motioned for Roy to sit next to her, to which he happily obliged, looking at you as he sat down- an invitation.

You walked over cautiously before sitting next to him gingerly.

“Oh, Roy! Is this your-” The woman started.

“No, I’m Sam’s ex.” You said, saving yourself the embarrassment of Roy saying ‘fuck no.’

Curiosity turned to pity and the woman leaned over Roy, putting a hand on your knee.

You smiled, the pity still feeling better than whatever you were expecting from Roy.

“It was a year or two ago, ancient history really.” You said, half to Roy, half to a woman you didn’t know the name of.

Before you could speak again, Tabitha walked back into the living room, accompanied by two older women- presumably Janice and Gertie.

It takes an episode for you and Roy to get comfortable with each other’s presence- an episode for you to relax enough to the point where your leg brushed alongside his, another half episode for Roy to start catching you up on the plotlines you’ve missed.

When Tabitha pauses the telly and calls it a night, it feels like no time has passed at all and if you didn’t know better, you’d say that Roy almost looked… disappointed when your leg was no longer touching his.

“Did you drive here?” Roy asked and you shook your head. “Do you want company on the walk back?”

You smiled.

“I wouldn’t mind yours.”

He nodded, holding your eye contact before looking away and making for the door.

“Thank you Tabitha, always a pleasure.” He said gruffly.

“Always a pleasure,” She smiled. “Oh, dear?”

You turned and looked at Tabitha.

“Yes?”

“He’s a good one.” She said, voice quiet.

You turned to look out the doorway to see Roy.

“He is, isn’t he.”

Tabitha patted your shoulder affectionately and you turned back to look at her.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, dear.” She smiled, before you turned and walked back towards Roy.

“This is the last place I expected to see you.” You said and Roy shrugged.

“I told you I do yoga.”

“Yes, well, when you said yoga, I thought you meant with a bunch of other fit guys.”

“Oh fuck off.” He said, no actual malice in his voice, before he stopped walking completely. “You think I’m fit?”

You stopped, turning and looking at him, ready to tell him go fuck off.

Your voice catches in your throat at his raised eyebrows and the small smile in his face, and a smile of her own formed, features softening.

“I said what I said.”

“You shouldn’t stay stuff you don’t mean.”

“Who says I didn’t mean it?”

He let out a small grunt, a noise of disbelief, which would’ve offended you if you didn’t see the almost bashful expression in his face.

“We should continue walking.” He said, clearing his throat.

“Right.” You said, and the pair continued forwards. “Tabitha invited me to the get together next week, by the way, but I can always cancel if you don’t want me there.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, it was your thing first. Just wanted to give you the option.”

“Fuck that, it’s… nice, having you there.” He said, voice full of indignation that you could believe for a second that your presence wasn’t wanted somewhere.

When you’re alone in your kitchen later, the feeling hits you like a brick.

It’s not your plan to go out drinking when your father reaches out to you for the first time in many, many years.

You know he’s in recovery, knows that Jamie has seen him, and none of that prepared you for the absolute vitriol you feel when you hear his voice.

The conversation lasts no more than a minute, your father gracefully taking a hint for the first time in his life.

You ignore the call from Jamie that comes a couple moments later and mindlessly drives to a bar near your apartment.

And you drink until anger turns into a full buzz in the background, which turns in hollowness.

Your phone rings- Jamie again. You looked at the photo of him that popped up. He couldn’t be more than three years old, crooked smile on his face, sitting in the grass next to a football.

Even as a kid, you tried your best to protect him from your dad. You’re still not sure how much you actually helped.

Your phone stopped ringing. You ordered another drink.

It’s not a half hour later when someone takes the seat next to you.

You glanced at them before going back to staring at your drink before doing a double take, because what the fuck is Roy Kent doing here?

“Jamie sent you.” You said, little emotion in your voice.

Roy looked at you and gave a single nod.

“He’s worried about you.”

“Okay. Well, if you’ve come here to say that I need to give my father a chance or some bullshit, you can leave.” You said, fully expecting him to stand up and walk out.

“What? Fuck no. I’m here because I care about you.”

“Oh,” You said, energy draining from your posture. “Oh.”

Silence sat in the middle of them for a couple of moments. You eyed the half-finished drink and was suddenly positive that you’d throw up if you took another sip.

All at once, it’s all too much. You, the entire bar, smells too much like your dad.

“Can we…”

“Are you okay?” He asked, standing up and you shook your head.

“I need to get out of here, I need to…”

“Okay, let’s go.” He said, throwing some notes on the bar top and guiding her to the exit.

The fresh air helps, but the smell of alcohol clings to you and it’s all too much, at least until Roy takes off his jacket and offers it to you.

You don’t put it on, just hold it against you and focus on the notes of his cologne instead of the scent of alcohol.

This and the sound of voice reassuring you that you’re okay is enough to ground you.

“I’m sorry. Fuck.” You said, voice breaking and eyes closed.

He pulled you into a hug.

“You have nothing to apologize about.” He told you. “Let me take you home.”

You pulled away from him, still sniffling, and nodded.

The ride home is silent.

You don’t have to ask him to come in- you simply give him a look and he follows.

“I’m going to shower.” You said and Roy nodded.

When you emerged, alcohol no longer clinging to your skin, you were surprised to see him standing in your kitchen, eyebrows scrunched together as he cooked.

“Thank you.”

He turned and looked at you, giving you a nod.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not.”

He held your gaze for a moment before turning back to the stove, pulling the pan off of the heat.

“How do you feel?” He asked, doing his best to disguise any concern in his voice.

“Better. I’m sorry. You probably had better plans than babysitting.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

He set a plate of food in the counter for you and you took it, grabbing a fork from the utensils drawer and digging in.

You feel the need to apologize again, as if your mere existence is something worth apologizing for.

A bad habit leftover from when you were your father‘s kid.

You help him clean up despite his protests, and pretend not to notice his concern.

“I should go to sleep.” You said and he straightened up.

“Right, I’ll… go, then.” He turned away and you grabbed his wrist, your skin electric against his.

“Stay. I mean, you don’t have to, but-”

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

You want to kiss him, want to close the distance between the two of you. You don’t, remembering that you’re a bit of a mess right now, but it’s not for lack of wanting.

You let go of his wrist and gave him a small nod.

“I’ll take the couch. I don’t want you to fuck up your back because of me.”

“Now-”

“Roy, please. Let me do this one thing for you.”

He looked at you, narrowed eyebrows, before he sighed.

“This is fucking stupid.”

“You’re a pro-footballer, I won’t be responsible for breaking you.”

“Was,” He corrected you. “Was a pro-footballer.”

“You’re selling yourself short.” You said gently and his expression softened. “Please.”

Without further protest, he listened.

When you wake up, the embarrassment weighs on you almost as heavily as the hangover.

Almost.

On the coffee table next to you, there is a glass of water and some painkillers, which you gladly accept.

Roy is in the kitchen, disheveled and cooking breakfast.

“Twice in twenty four hours, I feel lucky.” You said, cringing as soon as the words left your mouth.

He looked at you, eyebrow raised and lips turned upwards.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You smiled before the look faded into something softer. “Thank you for staying.”

He looked at you again, expression somewhere between adoration and frustration, because don’t you get it?

Of course he stayed. All you ever had to do was ask.

He gave you a simple nod instead.

“Roy?”

“Hm?”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t need to. It’s written all over your face and for the first time, Roy can see it:

He looked at you for a couple moments before turning his attention back to the stove.

“Me too,” He said quietly, offering you a plate.

You took it, fingers brushing against his, smile blossoming on your face.

“Yeah?” You asked and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.”

#jamie tartt #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso imagines #alcohol tw

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digenerate-trash · 6 months

Text

So Yan!Harper is a little different because it has been heavily contributed to by several people including:

@asylumdweller | @these-bees-r18 | @pip-n-chips | @degrees-of-fuck

(and the asylum group chat)

And all others around the community!! I want to thank you all for feeding my freak obsession and im glad this has become like a group project!!

(PS: tag your own yan head cannons pretty please. Dude a freak I love him)

Just Harper head cannons!!!!

SFW ones first:

Obsessed with you. Not possessive but still wants you to be focused on him.

Really into dolls especially customizing them with clothing and hair accessories. He's definitely got one of you that no one can ever touch or look at because it's very special to him.

Speaking of Harper being crafty he's also into sewing! He's very good at tailoring things to your measurements, he has them memorized by now. It's not creepy he's just thorough.

Has made you a custom straight jacket.

Embroidered your name in his sleeve so he can look at it whenever he's bored.

Absolutely was the worst child, other kids in the neighborhood feared him and that is why all the images of him as a kid are of him alone. he's also got pictures of you though. They're just hidden.

Will gaslight you for no reason. He just likes seeing you confused and worried when you think you've missed your appointment. don't worry he'll make an exception. you're just going to have to owe him a little favor that's all (:

Will drop anything to make room for appointments with you. Will also ditch work for you as well. He would make house calls but Bailey is pretty strict about Harper being in his territory and Harper isn't prepared to fight Bailey.

Will make you sick on purpose to keep you close by. This is either physically sick or mental (he only makes you mentally sick if he wants to keep you at the asylum)

Harper is constantly sticking things in you so he can lick/chew on them after you leave.

He is convinced that every action you make is playful and flirty even if you're trying to attack him. He just thinks of you as his feisty little lover and you just need a little extra attention that's all.

When you're actually sick he's extra helpful, he prefers you like this. Weak and needy. He pets your head calls off any appointments or seeing any patients and he just sit's with you. Making sure you feel better.

Harper takes care of all your needs. Check-ups mental health care surgery. No other doctor can touch you he's made sure of it. You also can't get a second opinion.

Prefers using drugs/hypnotism to keep you in line. Man isn't strong and even though he could call security it's not ideal for him to get others involved in your little ‘couple fights’

For surgery, harper is always there for you. Before and after he's very attentive. Makes sure you know everything you need to and he's very good at making sure your recovery goes smoothly (even if it takes twice as long)

he's always very clean even if you're a mess. He likes the dynamic of the two of you together. He likes it when people think he's out of your league because it adds to his abuse of power kink

Man has breathing issues around you. He tries to hide it. Biting his lip. Holding his breath. Just trying to control his breathing. None of it works. Man wants to huff you like a junky huffs paint.

Even if you are in a proper relationship with Harper he gets really petty and upset if you don't address him as ‘doctor’

don't play games with this man. He is the worst sore loser and even when he does win if you are close to beating him he's bitter about it. Might even hypnotize you to make you worse. He doesn't care if it affects other parts of your life. Competitive and petty

Any time you punch/bite/mark this man he's enamered with the marks. They are a little present from you to him and it's not like you could ever really hurt him so he sees it more as a little lovers trophy than an attack

NSF WORK UNDERCUT:

will absolutely voyeur you but he is always particular about it, positions how people touch you how they act around you It is all very carefully choreographed even when he gets other people to fuck you it's all very staged and sterile in a weird way that doesn't even feel like sex lets be honest.

Prefers getting his sexual frustration out on you but likes it better when you're hypnotized. (He doesn't like to be associated with pain or discomfort unless it's for a purpose)

Has a file full of images of you naked, broken, on the verge of tears, fucked out of your mind, even ones where you're just asleep. He files them all carefully and studies them all he really wants to get ‘the perfect picture’ of you that captures everything you are. he's not even sure if it's possible but he's going to try.

Get ready for everything you wear/eat/smell/sleep on to be covered in harper cum. Especially at the asylum where he's in charge of everything. he's got no shame and he really wants you to be accustomed to him and everything he does.

Cockwarming at the drop of a hat. He needs to do paperwork. Guess who he's assigning as his little helper? you're too tired to get up from bed? Not a problem for Harper he can stay in bed with you. At the farm and he has a moment alone with you while he gets things ready? His pants are already off. You can't escape it. Harper loves having his dick in you at any time.

Chugs a vial of aphrodisiacs before your appointments with him so he's the correct amount of horny for you.

Will also feed you aphrodisiacs and then deny you any sort of stimulation until you're begging or crying. The dude really wants you to earn things from him when you're lucid so you think it's all your idea

When you are hypnotised definitely makes you do some really nasty things for him. he's really into the idea of you being into everything he is and even encouraging him to do things to you when you're asleep/passed out. it's like getting consent but he's putting the words in your mouth and having you spit them back up for him.

Has sex with you during surgery. And if he can't do that he at least jacks off during it. He can't help himself he really needs you.

Man loves gaslighting you about your past sexual experiences. he's a big fan of convincing you that you're just an exhibitionist and it's normal. You just like things super rough and with a little more practice you won't be feeling so guilty about it anymore. And surprise harper is here to help!!

Will jerk you off as therapy. If you enjoy it your making progress if you don't next time he's going to get a vibrator

Very body-focused he's interested in pushing you to your absolute limits and making things difficult for you. Wants you unable to focus/form words/be able to move.

Prefers it when you're squirmy during sex but not outright violent.

Absolutely loves forcing you to cum. Not a fan of edging though. Not unless it's some kind of punishment. The dude will make you cum in your sleep during surgery when you are hypnotized, hands-free when you're fully dressed. Mans a freak for it. He also likes it when you sit on his lap or thigh while he forces you to cum. You'll get a lot of praise if you do it of your own volition.

Harper drinks piss. At least once bro look at him.

#Harper the doctor #Degrees of lewdity #Tw blood #Tw surgery #Tw hypnotism #Tw dubcon #Tw noncon #Tw rape #yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #yandere tropes #gn reader #x reader

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captain039 · 12 days

Text

Wasteland heat (Redone) PT 3

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

It's been about a day now, following Lucy, glancing at your pip boy now and then to see if you're still on the right track. She shared the coordinates with you in case by some horrid accident you get separated. The night was quiet, Lucy sometimes commenting to herself or asking how you were. You couldn't shake the feeling of needing to go back to Filly back to whoever gave off such a scent that made your whole brain short-circuit. You felt like a fool so caught up in it, of course, the surface would have this effect on you, it had its effects on everyone. You stare at the head a little too long, wrapped up in Lucy's blanket, which is now bloodied. You couldn't believe she actually went through with it, you swore she'd never hurt a fly really, but then again he'd already been dead.

"Get some sleep ok? I'll keep watch" She offers you a smile and you hesitate on sleeping you cock your head and pat the blanket that isn't big enough for the two of you, but she smiles and lays down beside you, half on half off the blanket, same as you.

"Hell of a time up here huh?" She chuckles head turned to you as you look at her.

"Can say that again" You chuckle a smile finally on your face which makes her beam. You sigh relaxing next to her, shoulder to shoulder as you watch the stars. It's surreal, watching the small twinkle of white dots in a dark sky, listening to the wind occasionally pick up, it was almost peaceful if it weren't for all the horrors everywhere.

Morning comes and you set off again a little lighter than yesterday, you're less on edge and feeling a little hopeful as you walk by Lucy through the brush. You come alongside a river, it's pristine and blue, well not pristine, your rad meter goes up to 10 and it makes you sad that such a beautiful thing is tainted.

"It's pretty" You comment and Lucy nods admiring the old worn-down houses in the blue water. You hear a small noise and Lucy places her hand on her gun before you see a small creature by the water, a deer, small and fragile enjoying the greens.

"Woah" You whisper as Lucy grins and you slowly approach with a small amount of grass in your hands. It seems more intent on sniffing you both which makes you laugh softly and gently pet its soft fur. Your moment of bliss is interrupted, something comes from the water and snatches the deer, its cry making you stumble back. It grabs Lucy next who is closest to the water. You stare in horror at whatever mutated being this is and grab onto Lucy. You kick the creature with your boot before Lucy shoots it and it disappears.

What the-" Before you can finish it snatches the head off of Lucy's backpack and swims back into the water.

"No!" You follow Lucy as you chase the thing down the river, her tracker beeping its location, you get to a jetty before you can follow it anymore.

"What?" You mutter unsure of what just happened and how your one chance just got stolen by a mutant. You don't hear him, but you feel him instantly, hand on your neck, gun to your head and a hard warm body near yours, scent filling your nose, alpha.

"Lucy-" Is all you manage as she turns around wide eyed and the gun cocks.

"Sir-" She holds her hands up as you shallowly breathe. He isn't choking you though, he just holds your throat almost gently, but that's the crazy side of your brain talking.

"Hello, again, look, please don't shoot-" She doesn't finish interrupted by him.

"Where is it?" He asks and her eyes glance away nervously and his grip tightens.

"OK! ok I lost it!" She laughs nervously and his grip loosens.

"Sorry sweetheart" You swear you hear ever so quietly before a hard butt of the gun is punched into the back of your forehead. You cry in pain going to your knees as he points the gun to Lucy instead and holds you by your hair. You have tears in your eyes pain flaring where he hit and now holds, your hands flying to his wrist.

"Something's got it!" Lucy yells gesturing to the water and he grunts.

"Gulper got it" He says and you see her frown at the word. You hear a soft whine behind you and try to glance back, you hear the pattering of feet and suddenly the dog is by your side. You feel relief flood you that she didn't die from the man's stab. He hums and lets go of your hair before he's struggling with Lucy and tying her up. The dog by your side licks your face as you try to stand and fail as your world spins. You groan holding the back of your head and feeling wetness you bring your hand back in front of you, redness coating it, you gulp a bit thinking you might be sick.

"Sir, please stop!" You hear Lucy yell and it makes your head pound as you watch her get tied with rope, an anchor attached to her.

"Stop" You barely get out going to stand but his gun points to you.

"Stay there" His voice has this tone and every fibre in your being practically whines and submits to it. You fight an inward battle as he ties Lucy to the winch mechanism. He forces her to submerge, her body just on the surface and all you can do is whimper. He pulls her up and she coughs and gasps for breaths.

"Sir, Torture is wrong!" She yells and he hums.

"You know I read about it once, Torture, in one of them newspaper studies" He lowers her back into the water glancing at you briefly before bringing her back up.

"You're right it is wrong and it doesn't do shit, but I ain't torturing you, you're bait," He says finale and lowers her back in, going to the edge and whistling. The noise feels like electric shots through your brain and you lower your head curling in on yourself, still on your knees. You hate how you can't move, hate the pointed look he gives you when you try too. You see Lucy start thrashing and panic rises in you, something jolts the rope and you see him start to pull her up only for the mechanism to stick.

"Damn it" He mutters and pulls the beam over pulling her and this 'Gulper' out. The dog starts barking and Lucy is yelling while the man stabs the creature. Lucy manages to free herself of the ropes, the Gulper going for her boot instead, you move now finding yourself ignoring the command he gave and grabbing her. You tug her as she whacks the creature over the head with some bags. It winces and returns to the water while you drag Lucy to safety. She pants loudly, hands gripping your shoulders before she gently cradles your head, seeing the blood.

"Mother fucker!" You hear before his gun is cocked to you both again.

"What! I wasn't going to let you use me as bait and get eaten! The golden rule" She yells at the alpha.

"Golden rule?" He questions.

"Do unto them with you want done unto you!" She huffs out a breath.

You hear him mumble to himself before he growls, grabs a rope and snags it around Lucy's neck.

"Stop!" You yell before he's got the rope going around your neck also.

“Wastelands got its own golden rule” he snaps.

“What?” Lucy huffs out.

“Thou shall get distracted by bullshit every time”

"Move" He growls at you both, soon enough he's dragging you both across the wasteland.

Next part ->

#x reader #aob #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader

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tartsinarat · 30 days

Text

Pip can’t clearly remember much of his time at the castle before he escaped and ended up at the owl house but he does vaguely remember the bed time stories of adventures across the stars told by the collector to pass the time whenever Pip would sneak in to listen.

When he’s older he just assumes that the ” child from the stars” was just a creation of his imagination going wild from being so young and lonely until he meets the collector face to face in the au’s version of season three and realises that he was his imaginary friend as a kid.

The Collector did enjoy Pip’s company because of Pip being much more fun and playful than Belos but they originally tried not to get too attached which is why Pip doesn’t actually know his name, this is because the collector knew that Pip’s actual purpose for existing was (to be a new vessel for when Belos’ body finally breaks down) the collector did end up getting attached though and considers Pip to be one of his best friends.

The collector was pretty upset for a while that Pip escaped from the castle (he didn’t know the context of Pip almost getting killed because belos found out about their meetings and wanted to make sure that what ever information the collector has said doesn’t leak to anyone else) because they had made a pinky promise together that they would properly play a game together when the collector got out.

Uhhhh the collector does get their promise when Pip finally returns to the boiling isles alongside the rest of the gang from the human realm which is unfortunate for Pip because of extremely obvious reasons.

#the owl house #toh #original character #toh au #art #golden heir au #the golden heir au #the owl house au #oc #owl house au #oc stuff #the collector #toh the collector #philip wittebane #belos

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reidsbookclub · 1 year

Text

Checkmate, I couldn't lose

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem! BAU reader Request: And another one is where y/n and Reid like each other but are too awkward to say anything, and y/n thinks he likes jj until she gives him a handmade chess board for his birthday, and then Spencer decides to finally tell her -- @emmadellaposta-blog. AN: I am so sorry it took me so long to write this. I hope that it makes your amazing idea justice. AN: I would really appreciate any feedback that you can give me.

She first saw him as she walked out of Hotch’s interview, the genius Dr. Spencer Reid that her new boss couldn’t help but stop talking about, like a proud father talking about his child’s greatest accomplishments. She could certainly see the charm Hotch talked about, what Hotch failed to mention were the good looks the young doctor had. But what solidified her want to get to know him more was seeing how excitedly he talked about any and every topic with the rest of the team.

He first saw her as he was preparing his morning coffee…well technically his second cup of the day. She was walking up towards Hotch’s office and it was as if time had stopped. Spencer was wonderstruck but he knew that no one he ever liked had chosen him, why would she?

What they both didn’t know was that their concrete walls would come crumbling down the more they interacted together, hearts growing fonder, stolen glances and secret smiles. But, would any of their past ghosts and haunting memories stray them from making a move, or will one of them take the plunge and dive in head first fearless into the unknown hoping the other one would be there to catch them?

It was a random morning, she had gotten there early enough to see Hotch closing his office door, having just arrived a few minutes before her. She had surprisingly gotten to the BAU before Reid, the disappointment she felt sending alarms to her brain, she could not like a co-worker, could she? She was lost in thought when a blurry figure appeared in her peripheral vision that came crashing down faster than she could see what was happening.

Spencer walked into the bullpen with two pipping hot cups of coffee in one hand and two slices of red velvet cake in the other hand, he planned to leave one on Y/N’s desk before she got there but he became just as wonderstruck as the first time he saw her noticing that she was already there. Her face of concentration with whatever she was thinking made him want to give her a quick peck on the nose, he was so intently looking at her and walking that he failed to notice a chair that was on his way and he came crashing down, the cups falling all over him.

“oww..Garcia is going to kill me she spent so long knittng this cardigan” mumbled Spencer

“Spence!! Are you ok? What am i asking of course you are not ok that coffee must’ve been burning. Two cups?? Spence we’ve talked about this you can’t be drinking so much coffee you know the effects that—” Y/N was rambling on and on while Spencer couldn't stop staring at her, yep I’m in love he thought. Shit! I can't be in love came another thought but he couldn’t help it. No one had ever seen him with those sparking eyes as she did. “Spencer?? Are you listening?? Did you hit your head?”

“I-no-ye-i” “Yeah, I’m ok. One cup was for you, as well as a slice of red velvet cake but I think I fell ontop of both of them…” sorry he said sheepishly.

It was at that moment that she secretly hoped that the young genius wasn’t in love with someone else, that he didn’t have anyone he called his because all she wanted was the sweet nothings that came with being called his. She didn’t think that her lavender haze dream would end so soon with her next question,

“So, Reid, what did you do over the weekend”

“ Oh, I took JJ to a baseball game. Granted I did not think things through because I was so out of my comf—”

She toned him out, the only thing running through her mind was the phrase I took JJ to a baseball game. And she called herself a profile, how didn’t she see it before? The secret glances, the food sharing? For someone that had a thing for germs, he always took Cheetos from JJ when she offered.

Why did JJ not say anything?

Why did Spencer not say anything?

How long until this shattered glass feeling in her heart would go away?

“ hey, y/n, are you listening to me?”

“Oh right umm sorry Reid too many things on my mind, so much paperwork you can tell me about your date later”

“D–d-date?” mumbled a confused Spencer watching her walk away.

She couldn’t help but notice the little signs she never used to before. How Spencer was always the first to say good morning to her, how She would always make sure to bring an extra cup of coffee for him. She felt as if their story hadn’t even started when it had already ended. But she wasn’t the only one affected by that conversation. Spencer would go home every afternoon wondering what it was about that conversation that drew her away, and he would wake up wondering if the girl he would give up everything for would finally talk to him again. He longed to see her bright eyes shining for him, her smile radiating warmth throughout his body, and her hugs oh how he missed those hugs.

As the days got colder so did their friendship, she was trying to give Spence space so what she thought was a relationship with JJ would grow and flourish, wishing every day that the lips he was kissing were hers, that the arms he would call home were hers. She never thought that she would be the type of person who would stay, marooned, waiting for him but she was right there. And just like that Summer ended and October and Spencer found himself wishing on his birthday cake for her to appear. The party was in full bloom, JJ had finally brought Will to formally meet the team, something Spencer and JJ were planning for months, and he couldn’t be happy for his best friend because he found himself willing y/n to come. Just like clockwork a knock shattered his wishful thinking

Could it be her? I sure hope its her.

Maybe its the Pizza Derek ordered

He was wonderstuck, the sight infront of him shocked him. There she stood, beautiful as always. Her face flushed as she noticed the way his eyes did a quick sweep through of her, eyes landed on a small bag she carried.

“This is— this is for you” she mumbled

He coudn’t help but open it right then and there. She still hadn’t set foot inside his apartment and here he was tearing open a little bag she brought for him, the only distance between them was the threshold between his house and the hallway.

An audible gasp was what broke the silence. In his hands a crocheted chess board and chess pieced. “Did you make these?” he asked

“y–yeah , do you like them?”

Liked them? Liked them? I loved them, she made these for me. She- he thought

It was liek a rush of electricity took over him and he kissed her.

“But- but what about JJ” she asked confused. His hands still cupping her face he mumbled a “what about JJ?”

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limehaspassed · 1 year

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So i had an idea a slasher with an S/O who has PTSD from guns and they get mugged. So basically here is the plot. The slasher and the S/O go to a cafe! They have breakfast do some cutesy flirting and talk about their day than they leave. On their way home, The S/O finds an alley short cut home. They go in and than some men in their late to early thirties put a gun to the S/O's head. The men tell the slasher (who is in disguise as a normal person and the S/O knows) to hand them all the money they've got in them. And next is up to you!! Idm what slasher you put in but i at least want Bubba Sawyer, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, and Freddy Kruger. You don't have to add freddy if you don't want to, i don't like him but i do want to know how he would react in this situation!!! Bye!!!

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Slashers Reacting to a S/O

with PTSD

In which the slashers react to a s/o who has PTSD of guns. Slashers included are Bubba Sawyer, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, and Michael Myers.

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Prologue

The first time you had ever seen a gun, it was when you had gone out to a local cafe with your partner that you encountered such a powerful weapon. The downside of ever seeing one is that you looked down the barrel of it, your body being held captive by fear and the threat of the gun firing while pointed at you, a tragedy within itself.

However, before you were forced under such horrific circumstances, you fancied a delicious breakfast, a perfect start to the morning.

“Good morning, take a seat wherever you like.” The waitress had greeted you, a warm smile on her face.

You smiled back and led the two of you over to a table. “This will do.” You said calmly, taking a seat at one end of the table while your partner took the other. You glanced up at them, flashing them a soft smile.

The waitress came back around and handed out menus before taking her leave again.

The two of you looked over the menu, you having to explain what some of the more intricate words were to your partner every now and then. Eventually, the waitress came back around and the two of you place your order. It isn’t long till the food came out, pipping hot and perfect for eating.

“Here you two are. Enjoy.” The waitress spoke.

The two of you were quick to dig in. “This is so good, almost as sweet as your kisses, love.” You teased, after taking a bite of your food.

Your partner nearly chocked on their food, not used to such compliments. You chuckled and continued eating, making small comments about your partner every now and then, enjoying the way they looked away in embarrassment.

You two quickly finished eating and you paid the bill. You soon found yourself walking home. It was starting to get dark overhead, rain settling in, so you decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway you frequented. However, this time, you were unoccupied

“Stop right there.” A man said, placing a gun against your head. “Give us all your money!” He yelled, his voice harsh, far worse than the thunder that stormed overhead.

You looked at the man before glancing over at your partner, noticing that they were about to attack. They met your eyes and you held up your hand, telling them to stop.

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Bubba Sawyer

Bubba listened to your word, staring holes in the men that held their gun at you. He watched as you handed over the money, slowly and cautiously. He remained still, following your orders, staying the good boy you had always deemed him to be.

“Is that all you got, bitch?” The man with the gun asked you, his voice cruel and full of malice.

You nodded and he gave a dismissive grunt. They left soon after, leaving you alone with Bubba, who was quick to walk up to you, looking over you with worry.

“I’m fine, dear. Let’s just get home.”

About a week later, you were met with a gun again, a victim having stolen a gun from the house, pointing it at you just before Bubba was about to attack. They held it against your head and you could feel your body start to panic, tears quickly entering your eyes.

Memories of the robbery came flooding back and you were stricken with fear, frozen in place. You don’t even know how Bubba took the person down, you just remember his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. You remember the way he held you so gently, as if you could break if he held you too tightly. You remember crying into his chest, shaking and trembling as you let the panic leave your system.

Bubba made sure to keep guns out of your sight after that, not wanting to see you in such a state ever again.

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Jason Voorhees

Jason listened to your words, not moving an inch. He quietly watched as you handed over the money, noticing the way your hands shake and tremble, fear evident in your every move. His hands clenched at his sides and he glared holes into the man’s head. He hated them, he hated this situation. He wanted nothing more than to punish the man for even looking in your general direction.

“Is that all you got, bitch?” The man said with a snarl.

You had went to say something but Jason had already moved, grabbing the man’s gun and throwing it aside, ripping it from the young man’s grip with ease. You watched with fear as Jason grabbed the man by his throat, a snarl practically ripping from his throat. The man strained and cursed, trying to escape Jason’s grasp but nothing was stopping him.

“Jason, stop!” You yelled, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He ignored you, blinded by rage. The man soon went limp, no oxygen left in his brain. Jason dropped him and looked at the other one. He went to lunge but you grabbed his hand, pulling as hard as you could. You nearly fell forward with how quick Jason had moved.

“Please, Jason, quit it out.” You begged, tears brimming in your eyes, you refused to let them fall.

Jason glared at the man. The man took this as his queue to leave, sprinting out of the alleyway. Jason didn’t turn to look at you until the man was out of sight.

“Sorry. He called you a mean word.” He signed, looking at you with regretful eyes.

“It’s alright, just help me clean this up.” You motioned to the body.

Jason nodded and got quick to work.

The second time you were faced with a gun was when one of the counselors at Camp Crystal Lake decided to fight back, holding you hostage to keep Jason from attacking them.

You were immediately sent into a panic, your mind running a million miles an hour. You were horrified, more horrified than you should have been in such a situation. You knew Jason would fix this but you couldn’t help but overthink, you couldn’t help but doubt his abilities, especially since you could feel the cool texture of the barrel.

Jason was quick to unarm the person, quickly getting to you. He scooped you into his arms and held you close, rubbing small circles into your back as the counselor laid dead at your feet.

Your breath quickened as you saw the dead counselor, you began hyperventilating. Jason held onto you tighter, forcing you to use him as a grounding tool.

You held onto him tightly as you tried to correct your breathing. It took you a bit but you soon calmed down, relaxing into his grip. He didn’t let you go for the rest of the night.

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Thomas Hewitt

Thomas was reluctant to listen but he did either way. He would listen to your every word, no matter what it was, even if he felt his opinion was the better option. He wanted the two men dead but you had said otherwise. This left Thomas in a state of near panic, he wanted to kill the two men but you had ordered him not too, he found it difficult to uphold your word.

“Is that all you got, bitch?” The man with the gun asked.

“That’s all I have.” You looked at the man momentarily before looking back over to Thomas, making sure he was following your words, you could tell he was having a difficult time listening.

“Tell anyone, you’re dead.” The man snarled, taking a step backward, his gun still pointed at you. He slowly walked away with the other man, their attention both still on you, the gun still aimed at your head.

They turned the corner and you let out a sigh. Turning to Thomas, you looked up at him with nervous eyes, afraid that he would criticize your weakness, your submissiveness to the attacks of others. However, it wasn’t a critique you were met with, it was a protective embrace.

Thomas was quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you close as if you would fall apart if he let you go. You could practically hear him growling, he was seething with anger. His grip around you tightened even more.

He didn’t let you out of his sight for the next week, constantly by your side, protective and possessive over your every move.

The next time you saw a gun was when Hoyt had pulled it out to deal with a victim. You didn’t technically see it but you heard it one evening while you were doing the dishes. You immediately dropped the plate you were drying, being sent into a state of panic as memories of the robbery came flooding back.

Thomas had witnessed this panic strike you and was by your side in seconds, pulling you close to him and holding you. You latched onto him, your eyes filling with tears, overflowing and soon falling to the ground.

Thomas hummed softly, a technique you had used to calm him at times. It was effective and you soon found yourself calming down. It wasn’t long until Thomas felt you relax against him.

His worry was replaced with anger, anger at the men, anger at Hoyt. He hated seeing you in such a state, he hated not seeing his sunshine happy. He vowed to limit the usage of guns around you as much as he could, not wanting to see you look at him with those panic stricken eyes again.

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Michael Myers

Does not listen at all, he immediately goes to move, attacking your attackers before they could even say their next word. He’s quick with killing them, not wasting time to watch them die, he wanted them dead quick and fast, wanting to immediately get the threat away from you.

The only person that could threaten your life was him.

“Michael, I said hold off.” You spoke, your voice still trembling with fear. The gun being pointed at you had gotten you quite worked up.

Michael shrugged his shoulders, looking at you with the same unbothered expression. He didn’t say nor did he sign anything. He simply watched you, awaiting his thanks.

You knew what he wanted but you refused to give it to him, mad that he disobeyed you. You didn’t want those men to die, even if they threatened your life, you just weren’t that type of person.

“Just…just clean up the mess.” You turned away, not wanting to look at the dead bodies.

Michael reluctantly got to work.

Later on, about a week later, you were faced with another gun, this time it was pointed at Michael. Your heart rate increased and your breath came out in shallow gasps. You were freaking out, you didn’t know what to do. You wanted to help but you were frozen, the memories of the robbery entering your head again.

Michael noticed this and he was thrown into a fit of rage. He ran at the person, who shot the gun, hitting Michael in the shoulder, but it didn’t stop him. Michael grabbed the person and threw them harshly against a wall, the gun sliding across the floor, stopping by your feet. Michael attacked the person, continuously hitting them until well after they were dead.

He then turned to you, noticing the gun by your feet and how your eyes were glued to it, tears falling harshly against the floor. He kicked the gun away and grabbed your hand.

He wasn’t an emotional guy, he wasn’t a touchy man either, but he was okay with hand holding, so he took your hand, squeezing it as you cried.

You moved and wrapped your arms around him, crying against his chest. He let you stay there until you calmed down, not pushing you away like he usually did.

He squeezed your hand once you calmed down, causing you to look up at him.

“Thank you.” You whispered, to which you received a small grunt. You gave a weak smile and hugged him one last time while he was still allowing you to be so close.

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Thank you for reading loves 🖤

#slashers #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #gender nuetral reader #texas chainsaw the beginning #thomas hewitt x you #angst #michael myers #michael myers x reader

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