#Firefly writing

[fireflylitsky]

Some Andy and Fuuko for Valentine's Day

The fic to go with it: Middle of The Night

Rated: E Word Count: 10k Pairing: Andy(Undead Unluck)/Fuuko Izumo Summary: Fuuko has a nightmare. Andy has an idea. He's pretty sure he can take her mind off things.

[radiant-flutterbun]

Pavona has a bio now!

[sylverstorms]

~Honkai: Star Rail Women and How they Hug You~

Characters: Kafka  |  Black Swan  |  Acheron |  Firefly  |  Robin |  Himeko  

Warnings: None, SFW.

Kafka is always hot. In every sense of the word. 

Even in the heart of winter, she is a source of endless heat when you join her on the couch after missions. With her mauve hair loose, she is the personification of temptation as she languidly motions for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, her fingers slide like liquid over your nape, pull you flush against her, with your head resting on either her shoulder or her generous chest. 

She loves to talk low in your ear while she holds you like this, fingernails gently scratching at the base of your neck. Sometimes, she shares details about her missions. If she’s in a naughtier mood, however, expect the kinkiest things to fill your ears, until you’re blazing red. 

Black Swan feels like a cool spring. A calm oasis for you to rest in, for however long you wish. 

All you have to do is speak her name into the aether, and she will come to you, as soon as she is able. Be it after nightmares or long days, you always smile when you feel your bed dip with a familiar weight. Her graceful arms encircle your neck, guiding you onto her chest. If you’ve closed your eyes, overcome by the bliss, before you see her amused smile, then you will feel it on your skin when she kisses you. 

Hugging her is heavenly. Like you’re enveloped in a cloud. Soft, fresh, plush in all the right places. And as soon as she asks you how her ‘dear’ or ‘darling’ is faring, if you missed her, that is when you utterly melt.      

Acheron is steady and so very safe. 

It’s like nothing in the world can touch you while you’re with her. She’s not one to initiate long embraces first, hesitant due to her powers, but if the two of you are alone she will often cast you a longing look that speaks volumes of how badly she wants to be close to you. One she hopes you don’t catch, even though you always do.  

When she hugs you, her strong arms wrap around you like you are the most precious thing in the world. She likes to tuck her chin onto your shoulder, sometimes turn into your neck, breathing you in. Her body is firm from years of combat, but her skin is so soft to the touch. The corner of her lip always tugs upwards in amusement when you caress her abs (which is every chance you get).

Firefly is an absolute sweetheart. 

Do you want to hold her? She will stop whatever she is doing and immediately come over to you. More often than not, she ends up curled into your lap with her arms around your shoulders. Adores nuzzling into your neck and pressing her cheek against yours like a little kitten. If you kiss her jaw or temple, she will melt in your arms. 

Very sensitive. If your lips caress her neck, best believe she will make a sound and immediately turn tomato-red. No matter how long you’ve been together, flirting in this position will result in her cheeks growing hot. Which only makes you want to tease her that much more. 

Robin is always a delight to hug. Cosy and sweet and soft. 

She absolutely flushes at the smallest hint of PDA if other people are around, but she will not deny you ever. Behind closed doors is a different story though. The girl will come over to you and wrap her arms around you from behind, silently asking to be held because she’s often too shy to say it. If you toy with her hair, massage her back or nuzzle into her wings, she will shiver against you. 

Likes to trace small shapes on your skin with her fingertips when you’re cuddling. Will die inside and go to heaven if you do it to her first. If you simply lay together, relaxing, she may start humming a tune by your ear in her angelic voice. A privilege reserved for her one and only <3

Himeko is soothing in every way. The way she smells, the way she touches you, the way she makes you feel. 

She is gentle like the warmth of a fireplace after a long trudge through snow and she never gets tired of holding you. You don’t even have to ask. One look and she will know to come over and embrace you. If other members of your team are around, she establishes small points of contact, like an arm around your waist or a hand at the small of your back. Until you are alone, where she will fully guide you into her arms. 

Loves to gently massage your back or run her thumb in small circles between your shoulderblades. Always exhales a soft chuckle if you kiss her collarbone and tell her how good she feels. You are so comfortable when you sleep against her perfect body that you have trouble sleeping without. Not that she minds this one bit.     

[bardic-inspo]

Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Part 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended. 

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude. 

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs. 

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to? 

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen? 

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too. 

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient. 

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading. 

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night. 

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast. 

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own. 

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles. 

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her. 

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue. 

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips. 

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again. 

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her. 

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes. 

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry. 

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard. 

Just a dream, then. For now, at least. 

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.” 

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time. 

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces. 

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

EDIT: This is now officially a part one of two 😉

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[salty-dracon]

All of those "Sunday joins the Stellaron Hunters after the events of 2.2" theories are so funny. Yes, here's the Stellaron Hunter family:

A badass deep-voiced lady assassin who both double wields guns and uses a katana.

A powerful gamer gremlin who can literally hack reality itself.

An immortal man consumed by a lust for vengeance, named after the weapon he wields.

A powerful genetically modified warrior in a giant mech-suit, the last of her kind, who wields scorching flames and weapons of mass destruction.

A mysterious cat who can see the future.

And their newest member: A Catholic priest.

[deerspherestudios]

Just to say that I loved day 3, I had been waiting for it for a long time and I loved it a lot 😭😭, I already missed seeing Mychael, I was able to practice my English a little more while playing it, I laughed a lot at the scenes where Mychael and MC start arguing playfully as if they were lifelong friends, little moments that I appreciate 🥲

Chitsu!!! I miss you!!! I'm so happy you're still playing the game haha! And practicing your English with my silly VN is an honor and genuinely amazing <3!

Thank you so much, I'm glad the little moments brought a laugh, those were my favorite (and hardest 💔) to write. I really wanted them to get along as close friends before introducing any romance, so that means a lot to hear!

[usercelestial]

okay but literally what if buck and tommy end up together? like what if we get to see them moving in together or saying i love you for the first time or getting engaged or getting married? what if we get to see buck having a husband? literally what then...

[1nterstell4r]

How She Spends Valentines Day With You.

HSR [Penacony] Females x reader

robin loves to spend valentines day with you. she gets you a pretty bouquet of flowers that she picked out just for you. to be honest, she spent a while pondering which flowers you'd like the best and even asked the botanist about what each flower meant in the language of flowers.

firefly is very excited, getting you a box of candy to show her appreciation and love towards you. she takes you to her secret spot as a date spot so you both won't get interrupted by anyone else. it's honestly the perfect spot to settle down together and have a little picnic.

black swan is delighted when you present her a gift for valentines. she accepts it gracefully and opens it with a smile when she sees what's inside. she can't help but cherish whatever gift you might have gotten her.

hanabi (sparkle) is surprised when you give her a gift for valentines. are you sure that's really meant for her? well, if you say so! she's not opposed to valentines day but it's not really her thing. she will try to gift you something in return later in the day.

acheron didn't even remember it was valentines day but has a soft smile on her face when you present her with a gift. she's set on getting something as a gift for you as well but can't seem to find the right thing that she wants to give you. she just can't decide on the perfect valentines day gift.

do not repost this writing elsewhere. thank you. -mod cyno

[comatosebunny09]

you're good at this—playing all coy and social as if you aren't a clump of nerves ready to burst.

like your legs aren't bouncing beneath the table, and you haven't knocked your knees against its underside a few times, almost spilling your wine.

like you haven't bitten your lips to hell, and your teeth aren't stained with the pretty rouge of your lipstick because of it.

no one's the wiser to your plight. to the quiet war waging in your head and the anxiety spilling like lava into your extremities.

you'll never get used to this things, no matter how many you attend—these parties, these galas, these socialites, this acting.

none of it is you.

not the form-fitting gowns, the kohl clumped to your lashes, the facsimile of a smile you've worn all evening until your cheeks ached.

but through the chaos, one thing remains a constant: him.

him and the hand he has clasped around your thigh to tether you. anchor you back to earth. all big and warm and reassuring, and he's angling himself a little closer until your nostrils fill with the scent of cured leather and peeled mandarin. and, fuck all, he’s warm even from this proximity. so hot, you feel the pressure of his body slowly seeping into your own.

his eyes gleam like the sunset in your peripheral. silently, they ask if you're alright beneath a slightly raised brow, above a customary smirk—a mask he dons during these gatherings if only to make the time fly by. not meant to tease you, he promises. he reserves something genuine for you.

he knows you're not alright, which is why he rubs all gently at the notch of your knee—an attempt to bring you back when you feel your mind slowly disconnecting from your body.

- at an event with sylus. you're clearly nervous. you always are. so the pair of you bid an irish goodbye, and he'll murder anyone who has the gall to stop you.

- watching him sneer at the partygoers blocking your exit is low-key a turn on.

- the night concludes with you both settled on your couch in your living room.

- and, of course, kissing ensues. because why wouldn't it?

- and he's a little handsy, so deft fingers creep up the expanse of your thigh because, of course, the slit of your dress would beckon such actions.

- and sure, yeah. you're into it as he gently pushes you back against the sofa. slots himself between your split legs as your fingers rake through the riot of his hair.

- and he hums all nice and low into your mouth, very much enjoying the sticky grind of your lips together.

- this is sylus. he's always gentle. always takes care of you, treating you like aged porcelain preserved in a museum.

- so why the fuck are you so nervous?

- you’ve made out a thousand times before.

- sex, however.

- well, fuck.

[princessfbi]

Idk how I am expected to survive Tommy standing outside an isolation bubble staring at Buck in a hospital gown and possibly infected with the bubonic plague while their hands press against the glass.

[milky-aeons]

— IN THE INTERIOR

౨ৎ  . . . in which JEAN KIRSCHTEIN finally gets that idyllic little home in the interior, reminisces on the echoes of war, and can't seem to keep his hands off of his pregnant newly-wed wife.

warnings: swearing, sexual content, pregnancy, depictions of violence, memories of war/ptsd, mdni, w.c 2.4k

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐓, clinking against the crystal glass that reflected the light.

It jostled Jean from his dark musings — calling him back from the battlefield within his mind.

He glanced over at it, blinking. Reaching towards the little glass, he picked it up and swirled the contents around. It was a fine whiskey — brewed and stored in Ashwood barrels to give it that intoxicating flavour. During his soldier days, Jean had only been able to dream about touching such expensive whiskey to his lips. And yet here he was, on a bright afternoon deep into autumn, drinking a glass like he had an endless supply of it on his home terrace in the Capital.

It was everything he could have ever wanted.

And yet, it did nothing to quell the screams and cries, the memories of bloodshed roaring up to wash over him.

To drown him.

From the moment he had woken up next to his snoozing wife that morning, Jean just knew today was going to be tough. There were many of them ever since the war ended — days where he could not get out of bed, where he couldn't even will himself to step into the shower without feeling like he was choking. The scars left from the war were deep and corrosive, and perhaps, they would never heal. But he owed it to each and every one of his fallen comrades to continue on. To build something beautiful out of the ashes left in their wake.

Jean winced suddenly — his fight or flight kicking in. In his ears, there was not the gentle din of shoppers from the Mitras street below or the chirping of bluebirds. There was carnage. There was the sounds of screaming orders, of ripping bodies and explosives. In one fraction of a second, he was back on that airship — he was getting ready to dive with his comrades onto the back of the Founding Titan with a slim chance that he would make it out alive—

"Morning, darling," An angel spoke to him, slicing through the clouds, and he felt something warm and comforting sliding down his taut chest. "You're quiet. Is everything alright?"

Slowly, so agonisingly slowly, the images of their last battle dissipated like departing smoke. In its remnants; the sounds of the markets below, the sweet-smelling breeze touched by autumn leaves, feminine arms reaching over his shoulders and playing with his frock.

Feminine — the scent of lilies and warmth. His wife. His beautiful, beautiful wife.

Jean inhaled, his chest expanding almost painfully, and fashioned his face into something composed. He craned his head back to meet your eyes. They were haloed in the tumbles of [h/c] hair that cascaded down to hide him from the outside world.

He flashed you a signature, cheeky grin. "All good. What are ya doin' up this early though?" He fired back at you, his eyebrows pinching with tender concern. "You should be resting."

It was true — and every time he saw the evidence of the life swelling in your belly, Jean felt the need to slap himself. Really, really hard, just to be sure. There was a bright glow that touched the tips of your cheeks, your breasts has swollen and become heavier, readying for the child who would be born within the next few months. A father, he was going to be a father. What were the fucking odds that they had made it this far, you and him, that you were bringing life into this new world. Something he originally believed would have been impossible.

You narrowed your eyes at your husband. There was a familiar look on his face, one which caused you to reach up and brush the curve of his brow.

"You have nightmares in your eyes, my love." You whispered.

He didn't contest, didn't say anything. But he didn't need to. Instead, he closed those honey-coloured eyes and sighed. Jean nudged into your touch — a silent ask — and you continued to rub soothing arcs against his skin. Smoothening out the wrinkles of his bunched expression.

"Shh, it's okay," You murmured in a calming tone. "You are safe. You are here, Jean. We made it. Nothing is going to hurt us, anymore."

Your husband took in deep breaths. First, quick and shallow, which then levelled out into a pace more even. From stroking his face, you let your deft fingertips dance along his skin and sink into his unruly hair, still unbrushed and tousled by sleep. It was past his ears now, you noticed, curling against the nape of his neck in soft sweeps.

"Your hair has gotten long again." You remarked, playing with their ends.

"Hmm," Jean responded. "Suppose so. Kinda like it." He then opened his eyes to look at you once more, and when he did, you were delighted to find they were their bright whiskey-gold, just like the bottle on your terrace table. You smiled softly down at him.

"You have come back to me."

Jean stared at you with those unyielding, clever eyes. He then reached up to catch your caressing hand and turned his face to place a kiss in the palm.

"Always." He whispered.

You would have spent that tender moment just basking in the sunlight with him there, thankful that you both had this time together. Your husband, however, seemed to have other plans. First, it was a wicked little glint that flashed across his eyes — and in the next moment, he was up, using the hand he had clasped to spin you around and hoist you up into his arms.

"J-Jean—!" You choked down a laugh. He scooped you up effortlessly into a bridal-style hold, walking through the terrace doors and into your shared little kitchen.

"Well, my wife is just lookin' extra beautiful this morning!" He chirped, and spun you around and around. Your giggles became a loud, playful scorn, calling him a silly man and demanding that he set you down before he made you and the baby dizzy.

"Our baby will come with a perpetual issue of poor balance!" You cried when he finally stopped, holding you close to him.

"If he's anything like his old man," Jean said. "He will have no problems. In fact, he'll be a damn master at all things balance. You know what they called me in the cadets, right?"

"Yes, yes. Mr. Genius at ODM Gear." Your faces were close, and you nuzzled into the strong column of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. "I just hope he will not be as big-headed."

"Hah? What did you say?"

Jean was peppering kisses starting from the very crown of your head, following a path of heat down your forehead, your cheeks, then finishing at your neck and giving you a playful nip.

You yelped, swatting at him. It only spurned him on, his broad shoulders that you held onto for support rumbling with his deep laughter. His butterfly kisses against your neck became a frenzy, tickling all of your sensitive spots, murmuring in his low voice who are ya makin' fun of? Hm? He both made you giggle and sparked a familiar heady feeling low in the pit of your stomach.

Your chuckles deepened in time with your quickening breath. It became thready and shallow, increasing in time as your heartrate picked up. Still in his captive bridal hold, you slid your hands from his shoulders to around his neck, tugging at his hair in that way you knew drove him wild.

His kisses tripped over your skin when you did so, his breath caught. Pleasured need rippled throughout your body. The kisses he placed on your neck became messier, changing from swift and teasing to hot, open-mouthed. You craned your head back to give him better access and he wasted absolutely no time — dragging the flat of his tongue from your collarbone to your ear, humming when you arched up in his hold.

Jean hoisted you up a little so he could move swiftly through the apartment. His long legs ate up the distance, gliding through the little one-storey terrace you had both made your home in the interior. You leaned up to him while he moved, kissing him sweetly, tenderly. Speaking in words you said so many times and would continue to say again; I love you. Now and forever.

Your second kiss, however, was meaner — you clamped your teeth on his bottom lip and he growled.

When he reached the bedroom you both shared, you felt Jean kick the door shut behind him, before walking you over to the unmade bed and placing you down. So gently, so caringly. The fragility of how he held you was almost enough to shatter your heart. The mattress dipped when he kneeled over you, encouraging you to lie down flat.

"You're gonna pay for doing that." He murmured in a rough voice.

Innocently, you bat your eyelashes. "For what, my dear husband?"

He leaned down so that your foreheads connected and closed his eyes, sighing hard through his nose. "For being so fuckin' irresistible."

Every inch of you was set alight as he leaned over you, caging you down to the bed with his larger body. You tried to surge up — to feel his mouth on yours and never stop, but he rose, kneeling so he could look down at you.

He was still in that light cotton sleeping shirt he wore to bed — hanging loosely around his neck, throwing his tanned skin into sublime focus. His golden eyes shadowed into a deep whiskey followed from your face, to your aching breasts, to your belly. The little swell there made his expression soften. He placed a hand onto your warm stomach and held it still, feeling the child you will soon share and raise together, his newly polished wedding band catching the morning light.

You felt like you were going to burst with the sheer force of love you felt for this man, Jean Kirschtein, your husband, for now and always. The longer you stared at him, the stronger the low pulse between your legs became.

"Jean." You whispered, and he looked up from under his fair lashes, understanding the plea in your voice.

Jean took his time undressing you, like the wicked little thing he was, delighting at how you wriggled under his touch like a trapped and desperate butterfly. When he had stripped both of you bare, you marvelled at the strong planes of his chest and tight, defined abdominal muscles. You traced each and every little scar he wore proudly, feeling those muscles twitch underneath your touch.

He was perfect. He was yours.

"Come here." You crooned, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him over you.

"Yes ma'am."

Your arms did not fit across the large expanse of his back muscles — you sunk your nails into the curves of his shoulder bones, feeling as they shifted when he crawled on top of you. His head dipped down to catch one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth and he sucked — nibbling softly. Your head knocked back. When he lifted his hand and closed the entirety of his palm over your unattended breast, the moan you let out was long and broken.

"They've gotten big, hm?" He whispered against your chest, chasing his words with loving kisses. "So pretty."

Impatient, lust racing through your bloodstream, you grabbed his wandering hand and guided it to where you ached between your thighs. So slick and swollen, Jean's eyebrows raised, his expression becoming incredibly smug.

"Oi, you've gotten impatient, have you?"

"Oh—yes, yes." You groaned when his fingers curled against you. He knew all the right spots to push, to rub, to make you sing for him.

"Come on, sweetheart, tell me what ya need."

"I need—oh, I need you!"

"Like this?" He cooed, pushing two fingers into you with such tender slowness. It felt exquisite, it felt so filling when you were hot and aching — but not enough.

To urge him, you hooked your leg around the strong curve of his lower back and pulled him into you. He made a sound of surprise, releasing his fingers from you to catch his weight by bracing his hands on either side of your head.

His wide eyes collided with your fierce ones. The intensity you were looking at him with made this ex-soldier's cock give a painful twitch.

"I need you. Inside me. Now."

Pleasure exploded down Jean Kirschtein's spine in a thousand lightning bolts. He hung his head forward, groaning, before reaching down to push your thighs gently apart to allow for his body to slot neatly with yours.

"Well, what typ'a husband would I be if I denied you?"

His cock slid inside you in a way that always felt so mind-numbingly perfect, like he was made to be there, to be yours. Jean let out a ferocious sound and buried into your swollen breasts. You moaned, deep, relieved, bucking your hips up to grind into him.

Jean resurfaced to connect your shining foreheads, once more. He reached down to cup your hips and drew out — pushing back inside with such concentration. He was being careful with you, he was handling you like you were the most precious thing in the entire world. You had become attuned to the monstrous power Jean Kirschtein housed in his toned body, honed from years of battling for his life. You had felt it. Even now, you could feel that hum under his skin — the strength he had used to fuck you against tables and walls, the marble tiling in the shower, the balcony in the deep hours of the night.

But now — he was a gentle, caring lover. He pulsed into you in at a steady pace. Both of you gasped each other's air. You clawed at him. His mouth dropped open to pant as he thrusted into you again, again, again.

When his movements started to become messier, less co-ordinated, did he reach down between the both of you and thrum his fingers against where you were most sensitive. You barked out a cry. The bed began to rock and whine with the force of your love-making.

"Come with me, [Name]." He growled against your shoulder. "Come on, sweetheart, come with me, come with me."

In a delirious haze of ecstasy, you nodded your head, again and again until the apex of your pleasure crested and swelled. Your nails dug into his skin. Jean's breaths quickened until they became choked, gasping moans, and his release smashed into him. You fell, too, crashing through the wall of ecstasy with him until all you knew were his body and his scent and the clasping of his be-ringed hand in yours.

It was all he had ever wanted.

[fireflylitsky]

THE CUTEST BABES FROM @moonamayillu for my fic Yokai Sunset

I am clutching them to my chest and heaving with love they are so perfect and adorable 🥰

(despite how very cute this art is, mind the tags as the fic has many horror/gore/adult themes)

[radiant-flutterbun]

Because @actualmanedrasa requested it - Here’s a brief overview of Corkscrew’s lore:

He used to work in the Flamecaller’s forges and hated it. He then got hurt and nearly died, and it was believed he WAS dead until a ridgeback by the name of Fireworks discovered signs of life in him. She got him help and he healed, but was paralyzed from the neck down, and had bad memory problems.

Fireworks met another spiral named Alaria who claimed she could rebuild Corkscrew’s spine. And she did, so he’s no longer paralyzed, but his mechanic spine does require a lot of maintenance and frequently malfunctions.

He later befriends a mirror within the clan named Clytius and together Clytius, Fireworks and Corkscrew form a little found family. Sadly for Corkscrew, Fireworks left to study the Hewn City and he lost contact with her for over a year. And Clytius was killed during a conflict within the clan. So he was left alone.

Thankfully Cork met another mirror named Firespitter. Firespitter is an oracle and cannot control when he sees his prophecies. He’s also a professional chef and makes a killer soup. The two fell in love. Fireworks also returned from the Hewn City, and Cork’s life has been relatively peaceful since.

Currently he’s pissed off at the young teenage coatl, Muerto because Muerto lets his cats roam the clan freely and Cork has had to save his pet rat from said cats more than once. Cork is also constantly annoyed by the Stormseeker left in his care by actualmanedrasa’s dragon Weatherby.

And here’s a brief overview of my main clan’s lore:

The clan was originally called Seeking Clan and was founded by a mirror named Nightbane and a tundra named Icetip. Nightbane was rewarded the land by the Lightweaver, for her excellent academics. Nightbane accepted any dragon into her clan, no questions asked.

Unfortunately she allowed a particularly violent skydancer within her clan named Sapphiremoon. This dragon planned to kill and overthrow Nightbane. Another dragon, a mirror named Shiningscourage had plans to attack the clan because she knew of a treasure hidden within the clan. Both Sapphire and Shining convinced dragons within the clan to join them, and a three way fight broke out.

Sapphire attempted to kill Nightbane, but Shining interfered and killed Sapphire. Nightbane and Shining were at a stand still, when a mirror named Nike saved Nightbane and beat up Shining.

A fire accidentally started by a fae named Flare is what ended the fight. Several dragons died (such as Clytius who was a brother to Corkscrew), including Nightbane’s daughter, Nightlight. Nightbane and the dragons loyal to her fled, while most of those who were loyal to Sapphire and Shining stayed to the ruined clan.

The group of dragons that followed Nightbane found a new home near the Beacon of the Radiant Eye. They now lived in an old library by the sea. Nightbane decided to retire and made Nike leader, and the clan was renamed to Clan Ton Theon.

The dragons that stayed with Shining became Clan Lampsi, and they rebuilt from the ruins.

Both clans had skirmishes with each other, Clan Ton Theon accidentally upset a flock of harpies, and Clan Lampsi had been attacked by an Emperor. So things haven't exactly been peaceful, but these dragons are trying to live their best lives.

[fatescaprice]

Oh, then, if you are comfortable writin it, could you perhaps wrote some Firefly fluff hcs ? I have a sweet tooth

🐉

firefly fluff

content warnings: vague penacony spoilers, possible allusions to as of yet unconfirmed theories/speculations

note: this is my first time writing firefly !!! she was so sweet in the quest . love her forever. i hope this isn't too ooc though, i don't think i've gotten the hang of a lot of the penacony people yet ^_^; anyways, i hope you enjoy!

reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💜

FIREFLY is type to be quite clumsy with her affections, but not for lack of trying, of course — she might not be as outrageously wealthy or effortlessly graceful as some other people you might know, but she’s trying her best, too…!

She loves just being near you, whether platonic or romantic. She takes your wrist gently as she guides you to a place in the Golden Hour she knows you’ll love, and shyly cheers you on from the sidelines as you take another crack at the slot machines. Just being nearby is enough, right? Let her know if you need anything — she’ll do whatever she can.

You have quite a tendency to ground her, too. Firefly isn’t exactly flighty, per se, but nevertheless, any troubled crease between her brows is eased as soon as you turn to look at her, and she greets you as always — with a little wave and a sweet smile, and the slightest dusting of pink over her nose and cheeks.

She doesn’t exactly tell you this, but she’s more grateful for you than you might know. Outside of the Dreamscape, she doubts that any of what you two do together — sneaking around the Dream’s Edge, dancing to the music in each Moment’s plaza — would be possible. She makes the effort to make the most of it, though. Maybe you’d like to check out that shop over there, or maybe you want to have lunch? It’ll be her treat, she’ll say each time.

While she feels just the smallest seed of guilt for what she can’t quite tell you, it’s no denying that she smiles a little wider, laughs a little louder around you. And if you feel her pinky finger inching closer to loop around yours, ah, well — you wouldn’t mind, right...?

[tinalbion]

'𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: The Ghoul x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, murder, canon typical language, attempted kidnapping, radiation poisoning

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 10k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The second part (sort of) to Perfectly Misaligned, someone read it and was curious about the radiation poisoning aspect, so I gave it to them! The Ghoul trusts your judgment after being in his company for about a year now, but after your shared night together, you made what you thought was a simple mistake that almost cost your life not once, but twice. Will the Ghoul be able to save you?

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

If he had just gotten out of his own head, then maybe he would have noticed how ill you’d been feeling, and maybe it wouldn’t have progressed the way it did. Or maybe if he would have just minded his own damn business and kept you at arm’s length like he initially wanted to, neither of you would be in this mess in the first place. 

But even in those two hundred years wandering the wastelands, he was bound to make a mistake, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it was possible. 

He knew you were smart enough when it came to survival, so he never questioned you or your methods or how you handled your personal affairs. So you both trudged on after the rad storm and only mere days later, you two were on your way, scouting small dives and gathering spots for low lives and scum that would do just about anything for some caps or chems. It had been an awkward time for the both of you after the night you shared, and both of you were too apprehensive to speak of the things you’d done in case the other had disapproved of the conversation. And once again, you knew better than to push it, besides, you both came to an agreement that night: a proposal between you both to release some tension when needed. That was it. 

Maybe it was best not to push it too far in case he changed his mind, so you’d give him time, you were patient. But the Ghoul was the complete opposite. He disguised himself to be the type who could wait out anything, but there was always that itch, much like the one in his trigger finger that kept his decisions impulsive and sporadic. 

So you continued, pushing yourself to venture forth, falling back into old habits with your memory of him in such a compromising way tucked in the back of your mind. You did what you did best and sought information, some of the targets easily let their drunken thoughts slip when a pretty girl sat with them and liquored them up, others were more guarded and kept their eye on you, but nothing a little touch to their inner thigh wouldn't fix, all while the Ghoul watched intently from afar. 

He often watched how you slipped into the part so easily, and the part you played depended on the person you needed the information from. It was rare in the beginning for him to see you like this, and hell, he even fancied seeing just how easily people had been sidetracked by your seductions when he first watched you work. But the more he watched, the more he paid attention to the movements of your hands, the way your body tensed whenever they would touch you, and how you fought the urge to recoil but kept your expressions as neutral as possible. Oh, how he found it to be enjoyable! He had a curious thought as he watched you, he wondered if there was something about him that made you come to him with such a personal offer.

The corner of his mouth would pull into a cocky smile whenever he'd watch, his whiskey eyes stared with interest as he would see your face light up as soon as the information left the man's lips, and your head would turn slightly to meet the Ghoul’s gaze across the room. The slight smirk on your face, when you struck gold, was a sight he welcomed, and not just for the payload that it came with.

You'd slip away from the informant as soon as he was stupid enough to look away, easily slipping out of his sight and outside, away from prying eyes. The Ghoul would be right behind you on your heels, walking in sync with your footfalls. 

Most times, he'd tease you about how well you handled the men -and the women- when getting the information you needed, but this time, he was silent as he trailed alongside you. You looked at him from the corner of your eyes and silently regarded him, but you knew he had something to say and refused to say it. 

“You good?” He finally managed to ask, his eyes flickered over your face and then back ahead. 

Your brows furrowed together, confused by his question. “Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked him, your hand holding onto the strap of your bag as you adjusted it. “I got us the information, didn’t I?”

What he didn’t tell you was that your skin was more flushed than usual, and your forehead seemed to shine with the glaze of sweat that constantly coated it lately, but he figured you knew and decided not to comment on it considering you could take care of yourself. “Course you did,” he assured with that typical grin. 

You dropped it after that and continued your travels to the next town, which was a bit further away from your usual haunts, but you both could handle yourselves, yet there was a small nagging feeling in the back of your head. But as much as you tried to ignore it, you couldn't ignore the feeling that was creeping through your body. 

You set up camp near a small lake, or what was left of the pathetic excuse of a puddle that used to be a lake, and you stared out across the hillside while the fire crackled behind you. The Ghoul sat and fried up some of the meat he'd taken from some poor man's hide while you sipped greedily at your canteen, drinking the last few drops of the only water you had. You could boil some of what was left, maybe make it drinkable, but you were tired. Your body had felt as if it had been crushed by a yao guai the past two days, and you just chalked it up to constantly being on the move, you tried to assure yourself that was it. But you knew you were working against time now, and you couldn't bring the Ghoul into your personal fuck ups. The shame you felt for not realizing your stupidity sooner ate away at you. 

“It's like I'm campin’ with a mute nowadays, the hell is goin’ on in that head of yours, Bunny?”

You turned away from the skyline glittered with stars and looked over at him, his intense stare already on you. “What do you mean?” You asked.

“Ever since, well, you know when, you've been actin’ strange, almost distant, even.” He didn't move, his gaze didn't soften, he was more annoyed by your behavior than anything. 

“I've just been tired, feeling real out of it lately, I dunno, just need a good night's sleep I think.” You reached up and rubbed your neck, your eyes drooped slightly. You felt the fatigue hit you like a ton of bricks. “It has nothing to do with that night, I promise.”

This seemed to give the Ghoul something to think about, but he had no reason not to trust you, you hadn't given him a single reason yet. He nodded and leaned back again, resting against a large rock while he enjoyed the warmth of the fire before he headed into the large tent you'd both set up for the evening, but there was still something off about you, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. 

You joined him soon after at the fire and tried your best to keep that usual cheery disposition the Ghoul seemed to enjoy, but you’d fallen asleep sooner than expected as you listened to one of the many stories he liked to tell about his adventures across the wastelands. What you didn’t plan on was the Ghoul carrying you into the tent as you barely stirred, the worry he had was gone when you seemed to sleep comfortably, and he watched as your chest rose and fell as you looked so gentle while you dreamed. 

The days passed and you were feeling worse, your body was trying its best to fight off what you were suffering and it wasn't succeeding, but you kept your spirits high as you continued your journey, but you desperately needed to get your hands on some RadAway as soon as possible. You were mad at your carelessness after the night you and the Ghoul shared, thinking that all would be well if you were to take some of the chem to take care of the exposure you experienced. But after a few run-ins during your travels, you hadn't realized that the last couple of packs you had were used up, you were completely out. 

Your hands dug around frantically in your worn bag as you pushed your items around, looking intently for the familiar IV bag filled with liquid, or maybe one of the needles you got from that last merchant, but there was nothing. Your heart poured hard against your chest as the panic set in, but you couldn't bear to tell the Ghoul of your carelessness, this was no one's fault but your own, and you'd take care of it. If you didn't, what if he refused to touch you again? He wouldn’t find all the trouble you went through worth it, so he’d remain closed off to you once again, and you felt that it was a worse fate than suffering from radiation poisoning. 

Ridiculous, you knew this, but no amount of chems could beat the high you felt when his hands touched you the way they did.  

While the Ghoul tracked down which way a bounty could have gone, you ransacked everything you could in the abandoned diner that had a few parked cars still in front of it. You checked inside of those, then dug around the drawers, cabinets, and anything you could find that could have hidden away some treasures—desperation at its finest. The Ghoul just figured you were looking for extra caps or scrap to sell, which you often did in between merchants and settlements, so he left you to it. He walked along the inside as he waited for you, then quizzically pressed a button, which activated a jukebox that still seemed to work. 

“Well, hot damn,” he chuckled as the song started playing, transporting him back to when things didn't seem all that bad before the bombs dropped. If there was a time before he could go back to, it was when life wasn't so complicated, where it wasn't tooth and nail to fight to survive. He could wake up and expect to pour his heart out on the big screen, capturing the characters he so loved to play, but he hadn't thought of that part of him in so long, he was but a distant memory that no longer existed, that man was too weak to survive in the wastelands. 

While he reminisced about a time long past, you continued to dig around the area frantically, but you finally accepted that you wouldn't find anything you were looking for. The heavy sigh that left your lips echoed throughout the room. You'd never been so careless before, but you wouldn't dwell on that now, you had to get going and trudge on to another merchant. 

You stepped out of the back of the dining kitchen and peeked your head around to see where your traveling companion had gotten to, but it was quiet, save for the trickle of music you heard coming from the half-destroyed jukebox. It was a song your parents played for you when you could recall a time in the kitchen, your eyes closed gently and you smiled as you thought back on it. You were so wrapped up in the memory that you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps of the Ghoul step up beside you.

You looked over to see him regarding the jukebox with a sort of fondness in his eyes until he pulled his gaze to you, and then he wore a mischievous grin.  

“What?” You asked him suspiciously.

He hummed and reached over to grab your hand, pulling you into his grasp while his other hand rested gently on your waist. A side of this man you hadn’t known existed had begun to shine through little by little, a rare occasion for you both to witness. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like, Bunny?” He asked dryly.

You just scoffed and allowed him to lead you across the floor, the weight of surviving and struggling through another day no longer a main concern, for now, you just enjoyed the moment before it fleeted away from you. You hadn’t danced in, well, you couldn’t recall when you ever did, but there was no time to think about that considering the Ghoul had tapped your boot with his own, getting you to move your foot. He told you to watch how he moved his feet, you had to mimic the direction in which he moved so you could follow along, and the more confident you became, the less stiff your body moved with his. Soon, you were swaying across the broken tiles and old debris, laughing at the way you felt lighthearted and silly, but the privacy of the moment was something you’d want to hold onto forever. 

‘It isn’t your sweet conversation

That brings this sensation

Oh no, it’s just the nearness of you-’

As sick as you were feeling, this dance lesson was something that you were glad you didn’t miss, but your body was fighting against you despite how happy you were feeling. You scolded yourself, hoping you could hang on for a little bit longer, but the Ghoul looked down at you as the gentle piano of the song played in the background, his eyes in those sunken-in sockets seemed troubled.

“You sure you’re good? You seem sicker than a dog lately, you feelin’ alright?”

“I uh, I’ll be fine, promise,” you lied with a small smile. “Just living in the moment, this is nice.”

He chuckled and knew you weren’t being completely honest with him, but if you knew what you were doing, then who was he to say otherwise? “Whatever you say, Bunny. And you ain’t too bad on your feet.” He smirked as he tested the waters and pulled away from you, then gave you a little spin. 

You spun and laughed as you almost tipped over, but he caught you with ease and he pulled you back flat on your feet. He stared down at you and wondered what it was you were thinking about, though he felt he wouldn’t admit to what he was thinking if given the chance. 

You looked up at him with the same look on your face, and your soft smile only grew when he kept staring. If only you could just have a bit of normalcy, you craved having just a slice of it like you once had, but all you could picture was him here with you, sort of in a moment like this one. This could be your new normal, him standing here with you, dancing around the desolate diner with the scratchy music playing. You laughed internally at the thought, but it didn’t hurt to pretend for now, but you’d deal with the ramifications later.

You thought you could feel it; the spark of something in the way he looked at you, and the way his hands held onto you as if you belonged here in his grasp, but you weren’t entirely sure. He didn’t budge, he was as still as a hunter watching its prey from the tall grass, but before you could say a word, the sudden rise of bile stung your throat. You began to cough and violently jerked from his arms and flung yourself away, gagging as you fell to your knees while you released the contents of your stomach onto the floor.

The Ghoul’s face turned to shock as he was beside you in an instant, his hand on your back while he stared down at you in sheer panic. “Bunny, what- are you okay?” He would wait for your answer while he attempted to comfort you, but human ailments hadn’t been a worry for him in so long, he had no idea what would be wrong.

After a moment, your breathing was heavy and you attempted to catch your breath before you responded. “I… I fucked up, cowboy, I’m sorry…” You turned to him, and the tears in your eyes from retching stung your eyes. 

“You didn’t do nothin’ of the sort-”

“I ran out of RadAway, I didn’t take anything after that night… I was careless.” You huffed as you stared up at him, looking and feeling so ashamed of your carelessness. As you were about to speak again, an odd sensation took over your body and you felt a sudden wave of dizziness, your eyes fluttered, and then you felt everything go black. 

The poisoning coursed through you rather quickly without any medicine, but the Ghoul didn’t have a drop on him either, so you were running on borrowed time until your body began to shut down and change drastically. He caught you before you fell unconscious, then slowly got to his feet and hoisted you into his arms, your limp body cradled against his chest as he searched around the diner for a safe place to keep you. He didn’t find much until his head tilted up as he groaned in frustration, his eyes then spotted a latch that led up to an attic or storage space of some kind. 

He gently set you down away from the area and opened the door, then climbed up the wooden ladder that slid down, and he peeked around to check the hidden room. It had been untouched for years up there, things were still neatly placed and packed away, so this would be the safest area to keep you until he could return.

Once you were up in the storage space and laid out on your blanket, he covered you with your jacket and looked around, hoping he could get lucky with a hidden medkit, but he turned up empty-handed.

“Dammit,” he muttered as he looked back at you. He knew you’d be pissed if he left you here, but he hid you away, you’d be safe until he returned. The Ghoul wasn’t sure how far away the next town was from where you were, so maybe he could return to the one previous. He had to do something, anything to get you what you needed before things took a turn for the worst, vomiting was only the beginning. He knelt beside you for a moment and looked down at your features, his eyes scanned your skin, anything that was alarming, but it had only been a few days since you both got close. He had time.

“I ain’t gonna be long, Bunny, I promise,” he muttered low, his gloved hand pulling your jacket up further to keep you covered, resisting the urge to smooth out your hair as a lover would do. “We’re gonna get you better.”

He stood and looked down at you while you slept, afraid to leave but too afraid to stay, he couldn’t just sit idly by and do nothing. So he left you there, locking up the crawl space door to assure your safety while he was away. It was an odd feeling as he traveled alone, not having you with him on an adventure almost felt wrong in a way, but the journey would hopefully be a quick one. 

His feet felt heavier than usual as he walked out of the diner, but he turned to look back at the decaying building and stared up at the walls that held you safely within them, but it was difficult for him to move forward. With a deep sigh and a hardened gaze, he sought after what he needed, and internally, that small little voice in his head had prayed for a miracle that you would be okay. 

You weren’t sure what happened, you were happily dancing one minute with the Ghoul, and the next was a complete blank, you just remember falling and that was it. Your eyes barely opened as you lazily rolled your head to the side, trying to focus your sight. You looked for him in your haze, calling out to him weakly, but no one responded to your calls. The Ghoul was probably just making sure no one approached the vicinity, you knew he would be overprotective in your current state. Another reason you cherished your friendship. 

Friendship, if that's what you want to call it. 

Your head was pounding and your body felt weak, on fire, and had the chills all at once, so you may have rested until he returned to your side. But the pain in your head was too much as it throbbed annoyingly, what else could you do but lay there as you stared at the ceiling filled with small holes? Yet the longer you lay there in silence, the more you realized just how quiet it was, and then you wondered if he was truly still wandering around the vicinity. 

What if he took it upon himself to… no, you had hoped not, that wasn't in your plans. You wanted to take care of it yourself when you were able to sleep it off, and yet there was the possibility that he took it upon himself. You slowly pushed yourself to your feet and almost tumbled into the wall, but you regained your footing well enough as you looked around the room. There was no indication he was here, even when you looked out of the second-story window, there was nothing. 

“Dammit,” you muttered. 

Of course, you caused problems for him, took him away from his work, and foiled it all. He'd never look at you again in such high regard, would he? Not after this. You cursed yourself and stumbled back to your makeshift bed, feeling the roughness of your dry throat that ached for water. As you reached for your pack, you hoped he'd come back and still give you a chance. Sleep was clawing at you again while you wondered if you could force yourself to remain awake, but you hadn't stood a chance. Your eyes closed and you prayed to whoever would listen to have him look at you like he did before. 

While you had slept, the Ghoul made decent progress across the wastelands to acquire what you needed, and he hoped he’d get it in time before your body shut down any further. He kept pushing the negative thoughts from his mind, whistling or humming that tune from the diner, just trying to make it through. Along the way, he took out raiders, random lone gunmen, and anyone else who figured he was easy pickings, patting them down after their bodies fell with a hard thud to the ground. He’d gathered a small collection of RadAway in his bag, but surely not enough to help you get back to yourself, so he promised himself only to find a few more. 

It was after this personal promise that he had stumbled into some hideout he didn’t know existed, yet he still pressed forward as if he had no time to deal with the several men who stepped out and blocked the view of the windows all around the destroyed building, but they insisted he stop to have a chat.

“Ain’t got time for autographs, boys, I got somethin’ important I gotta do,” he said as he brushed them off, walking past them without a second glance.

One of the raiders scoffed and raised his gun, cocking it to catch the Ghoul’s attention. “I ain’t askin’, freak,” the gunner guffawed. “Gimme what’s in your bag, now.”

The Ghoul took this as an insult, so he turned on his heels rather slowly, comically so as he looked at the four men who stood here, holding him up from his mission. “The fuck you just say to me?” He asked with a scoff. His hand had already rested comfortably on the hilt of his hand cannon, watching all the men with interest, mapping out the direction from which they’d all come after him. He was meticulous with his planning, making sure each bullet he shot wouldn’t go to waste. 

“You heard us, ghoul,” another man spat in reply, “give us what you got and you can keep your arms, possibly.”

The Ghoul chuckled to himself and lowered his gaze, his face hidden by the brim of his hat. “Now, I ain’t one to back down from a challenge, but I got someone who needs help. So I’ll cut y’all a deal. You got any RadAway? I’ll happily give you whatever is in this here bag,” he said as he patted the leather saddle bag. 

Whether it was a trick or not, the men figured if all he wanted was RadAway, he was stupid enough to trade it all for that. The one closest to the door walked inside, disappeared for a few moments, and came back with an entire bag filled with RadAway. 

“Figure with all the caps you probably got in there, we could buy more than we got,” the man laughed and tossed the bag onto the ground before him. “Now hand over the bag nice and easy,” he said.

“Well now,” the Ghoul started as he slid the bag from his shoulder and let it drop, “seems there’s been a change of plans, gentlemen.” With a fast hand and an even faster draw, the hand cannon was out and he shot all four men before they had a chance to react. “Been a pleasure doin’ business.” 

He walked up to the discarded bag and grabbed the IV bags, peering inside to ensure they were all accounted for. Most were untouched while others looked a tad worse for wear, but it was enough to be able to help you out and get you back on your feet. Just as he was about to throw his saddleback back over his shoulder, one last man emerged from the broken-down shack and took aim at the Ghoul. 

“You don't deserve to leave after what you did,” the man spat. 

The Ghoul stopped and cocked his head, not even bothering to look back at the man. “None of us deserve shit one way or the other, but my companion don't deserve to die.”

“Companion? You think your companion wants to be around you in the first place? You're a fucking ghoul, a freak. Probably just playin’ sick to get rid of you. But if it's RadAway you need, you're gonna end up killin’ ‘em anyway. Do them the favor and get the hell away from ‘em.” 

The Ghoul had more patience than a saint at that moment, but the part about killing you, it struck a nerve. Without looking back, he put an explosive bullet straight into the man's forehead, his head exploded with a large pop, and his body fell to the ground. 

“Fuck you,” the Ghoul huffed, grabbed his prize, his bag, and hustled back to the abandoned diner. 

If he hurried fast enough without stopping, maybe you had a fighting chance. 

You had thrown up several more times and could barely move from your makeshift bed, your limbs felt sore and your entire body was on fire. It felt uncomfortable just to lay there. How could you be so careless? Even though you were suffering from the effects of radiation poisoning, you knew that you'd never regret the decision you made that night. You’d happily do it again if given the chance. 

As you lay there half dazed, half-conscious, you swore you heard a melody from outside the gas station, you weren’t entirely sure. Poorly sung, the lyrics sounded screechy, it wasn’t exactly pleasant. But the voice wasn’t his, so you pushed yourself up as slowly and quietly as possible as you attempted to make your way over to the window. The sun was setting, the large ball of light almost hidden below the horizon as you peeked through the broken glass, seeing a group of three raiders wandering about as they heard the song playing on the jukebox.

You didn’t even realize it was still playing considering you’d been so out of it, but they figured someone had to have come here. Your plan was to be as quiet as possible, allowing them to think their timing was off, that someone just passed through and paid no mind to stick around. If push came to shove, you’d hole up on the roof and take them out from a higher ground. The Ghoul had taught you some basics since you would have rather run from combat than be a part of it, but he knew it was important to know if a situation ever arose. You’d have to thank him later for those helpful tips if you ended up needing them. 

The adrenaline was pumping through your system as they got closer, carelessly wandering, swinging their weapons into the nearby cars just for the sake of destruction. You wanted them to leave as soon as possible, so you hugged the nearest corner with your gun firmly in your grasp, and you did your best not to pass out at the most inopportune moment while you pressed your back against the wall.

The smaller man who had been looking around the outside of the diner didn’t seem interested in sticking around, but the other two wanted to be thorough in their search for anything worth the caps.

“Davie, c’mon, man, there’s nothing here,” the small man grumbled.

The larger man just laughed. “And what, you some all seeing, all knowing motherfucker now, Francis?” 

“Shut up, dick.” Francis huffed and waited outside, keeping an eye on the skyline in case there would be trouble.

The second man followed Davie inside the diner to scout around for anything, and he started pressing buttons on the jukebox. 

“Quit fuckin’ with that, Daren,” Davie barked as he tossed an empty box at him.

Daren huffed and continued to make his way around the diner, finding nothing of interest, but they made sure not to leave any stone unturned. 

As you sat up in the corner, you figured there was still a small chance they’d come up there, spot you, and do who knows what, but you had no real backup plan in case that were to happen. Maybe cover yourself with the blanket, pretend you were some discarded junk? Would that work? Raiders weren’t exactly the smartest bunch, but they’d smell you a mile away in a ridiculous cover, most likely. 

You calmed your breathing as they continued to ransack the kitchen area, right below where you were resting in the corner, and you couldn’t help but clasp your hand over your mouth just in case. You listened for them, pinpointing where they could be, how far away their voices were, or how close they’d gotten. Maybe they’d overlook the door altogether, they surely weren’t that thorough, right?

“Shit, Davie, there’s a door leading upstairs-” Daren pointed out, and you heard him tug at the small latch connected to it. 

Your heart dropped in the pit of your stomach as your entire body froze, your eyes went wide as you slowly pointed the gun toward the opening in case you needed to use it, but your hands were shaking so badly. Your vision blurred as you tried your best to will yourself still.

‘Don’t you dare pass out now, you idiot, keep still-’ You willed yourself, your hands slowly steadying to the best of your abilities. Your entire body was suddenly taken over with chills, your strength had been sapped from you as you leaned your head back, praying that they’d skip out on searching up there.

The footsteps beneath you got louder and you heard the door being yanked at. “What d’you think is up there?”

“Maybe the owner’s corpse with all his riches,” Daren laughed and pushed the door, but it was slightly stuck, so he slammed into it with his fist. The door was unlatched and splintered, causing it to remain slightly open.

Your body was shaking as you cowered deep into the corner, hoping they’d just gloss over you, but as soon as Daren stuck his head up through the opening, his eyes landed on you. You shook your head, hoping he wouldn’t say a word, your hand was hiding the gun beside you as you crouched down, but you couldn’t see well with the sweat beading onto your forehead dripping down your face.

“Well, well, we don’t have a corpse with riches, but we have a payload,” the man chuckled and pressed his way upward.

“What’cha got, Daren?” Davie asked as he remained downstairs.

“Please-” you begged him, “I have nothing, just take whatever’s in my bag, I’m sick…” You whispered, hoping he’d have a change of heart. 

He ignored everything you said and yanked at your wrist, causing you to yell out and quickly shoot a bullet into his arm. The raider released you and that’s when you scrambled toward the broken window, and despite your body screaming at you to not overexert yourself, you pushed through it and rolled onto the crackled shingles.

“The fuck happened?!” Davie barked as he climbed up the small ladder. 

“There’s a girl, we can use her for parts!” Daren called back, and Davie was immediately crawling up to assess the damage. “She fuckin’ shot me,” he growled as he ripped off a piece of his shirt, wrapping it around the wound. “Fuckin’ SHOT ME.”

You were too busy trying to figure out how badly it would hurt to drop down from this height, but you had either two large men manhandling you to deal with, or the smaller raider to grab you as soon as you hit the ground. You could probably take him, so you opted for the latter. As you timed it, you jumped and tried your best to land where you could shoot up right away and run, but Francis was too fast. He’d been assessing the entire thing from the outside, his weapon drawn, but once he caught sight of you, he yanked out the rope he had wrapped around his belt. 

“Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you,” you spat as you aimed and shot toward him, but you missed by just a few inches. “Fuck-”

Francis bolted toward you, his weapon drawn in one hand while the other gripped at the rope. He had a baseball bat primed and ready to incapacitate you if need be, swinging it mostly at your legs to bring you down, but you aimed your gun again and this time hit him in the shoulder. He let out an annoyed yell, then dug through his pocket, sucked in some sort of chemical, and you watched in horror as his expression transformed. 

His eyes bulged out, growing wide as the chem worked its way through his body, and the bullet wound was just a passing memory. He grew sporadic and violent with his swings, not calculating exactly where to hit, but blindly swinging so he’d at least hit something. You did your best to dodge and roll out of the way as he would hit, barely take a breath, and swing again, the speed in which he worked was insane. 

“Just leave me alone! I just wanna be left alone!” You screamed at the man, but if he could hear you, he showed no signs of listening. 

Davie and Daren popped out to see the smaller man going straight for you, so they decided to get around you and cut you off before you could run anywhere else. “Goin’ somewhere, sweetheart?” Daren yelled out a string of profanities and launched toward you, grabbed you by your arm, and yanked it hard, causing you to drop your only weapon.

Davie went around and grabbed your other arm, both of them lifting you from the ground as you dangled in between their grasp helplessly.

“Let me go!” You screamed again. 

“You shot me you fuckin’ whore, I ain’t letting you go after that. You’re going to the harvesters.”

“No, please, please! I’m sick!” You thrashed in their grasp, kicking your feet as they held onto you with a firm grip. With as much force as you could, you lunged at one of their arms and bit down. 

Daren shouted again and reeled his arm back, slapping you hard. You let out a cry and kicked even more, but Francis grabbed at your legs, tying them up before you could do any real damage before his chem ran out. Then the two larger men dropped you, taking that opportunity to tie you up completely, sure that you couldn’t escape your bonds now. 

“You wanna do the honors and carry her?” Davie asked.

“Fuck that, she shot and bit me,” Daren scoffed, kicking you in the ribs. 

Your body folded as you let out a cry, but Davie housed you up and tossed you over his shoulder. “Fine, fuckin’ whiney ass-”

“‘Scuse the hell out of you but where the fuck you  think you’re goin’ with my girl, there?” A voice called to them from behind. 

The three men all turned to look toward the Ghoul that stood there, his eyes glued to the figures that held onto his lucky rabbit's foot, and they sized him up without much worry. Daren’s annoyance grew with hearing your yells and seeing yet another obstacle in their way. 

“We found her first, ghoul, you can get your own smoothie somewhere else, yeah? She seems in top-notch condition and I ain’t one for sharin’.”

The Ghoul looked straight at you, taking notice in the smile you shot him as if to say thank goodness you’re here, he knew there’d be no way you’d want to escape him, right? “That there rabbit’s foot is mine, I don’t feel like partin’ with her just yet. So I’ll give you to the count of three to release her, or I’ll make you.”

The three men laughed hysterically and had no intentions of letting you go, and the smaller one -Francis- stepped forward. “Not sure if you heard us considerin’ your ears are kinda… gone? But She’s ours, finders keepers.”

“And I said, no.” The Ghoul said sternly, taking a single step forward, the familiar jingle of his boot spur seemed to cause you some comfort. “One.” The Ghoul held up his hand canon, took aim at the man on your right, Davie, and continued to glare. 

“You really got a problem here?”

Francis quickly took aim with the hidden .223 pistol he had stashed on his person and let out a bullet, hitting the Ghoul in his left shoulder. His body jerked slightly but he didn’t allow the force of the bullets to deter him much.  

“Two.”

Francis let off several more rounds into the Ghoul’s chest while Davie took out his 14mm pistol and landed a couple of rounds in him as well, but the Ghoul didn’t fall, nor did he back down. He smiled wickedly as he aimed his hand cannon, shooting each bullet off in succession. 

“Three.”

Daren’s left arm blasted off, and the splatter of blood covered your face as you ducked and yanked yourself from their grip, then Davie’s throat had been shot clean through, causing him to drop instantly. Francis was left alive, but barely, as he was attempting to crawl off with one missing leg. He was still riding the effects of the chem he inhaled, but they’d die off quickly with all the blood loss.

The Ghoul was one to play with his prey, so he slowly sauntered up to the raider and chuckled at the pathetic attempt of his escape. “Well damn,” he said as he squatted down closer and dug his finger into the gaping wound of his leg, causing him to scream.”If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that hurts.”

“Pl-please, stop, don’t h-hurt me, okay, man?! We just needed caps!”

“Ah well, I just needed to bring her some medicine to help her get better, and here you thought you could just up and take her?” He asked as he stood up, tilting his head down at the man with a mischievous smirk. He placed his boot onto the end of Francis’s leg and applied a gentle amount of pressure to keep him from crawling off too far.

You watched all of this, not feeling much remorse for him or the others after what they planned on doing to you, but you had no idea what you could have done if he hadn’t shown up when he did. You felt useless as you stood up shakily, your body swayed slightly as you tried to steady yourself, still feeling the poisoning coursing through you. The cold feeling took over and you felt your entire body drain of color as you fell to the ground again, but despite feeling faint again, you felt safe knowing he was here to help you.

The Ghoul’s eyes widened as you fell, so he removed his foot from the raider’s injury and aimed without a second thought at his head, blowing him away and taking care of the last issue that remained. He eagerly scooped you into his arms and knelt down beside you, digging through his pack to fish out the IV bag you needed. Wordlessly, he stared down at you as he opened your mouth, tipping the liquid inside as he watched you swallow it. When it went down smoothly, he let out a sigh of relief and let his head fall back, staring up at the sky as he thanked whatever was watching over you.

He sat there with you in his arms, his eyes directed toward the sky, and he laughed. “Fuckin’ lucky rabbit’s foot,” he mumbled as he slid the bag back onto his shoulder and hoisted you into his arms, taking you back to your bed in the attic of the diner. 

You awoke with a fierce headache, but your body overall didn’t feel like your blood was on fire, which was oddly suspicious. You recalled almost being kidnapped and taken, but then he appeared like some sort of twisted guardian angel, saving you at the last minute. The sun wasn’t up any longer, it was pitch black outside as you opened your eyes, the weariness of sleep slowly lifting like a veil being pulled up from your view. You turned to see him there, right next to you as he leaned his back against the wall, his hat tipped slightly low to cover his eyes as he tried to rest. There was no way to tell what he’d been through while he was gone, but he seemed pretty exhausted when he returned, or maybe you were delirious, but you were thankful he was here now. 

The urge to wake him was strong, wanting to just thank him profusely for what he’d done for you, it was more than anyone had done for you in your entire life. Without much debate, you sat up slowly and crawled over toward him, allowing your head to gently rest against his lap. He hadn’t stirred much, probably too worn from his travels to get that life-saving RadAway for you. You weren’t sure how you could ever repay him, but you’d figure it out. 

When morning came, you found yourself back in your makeshift bed, tucked in and comfortable with the Ghoul somehow laying next to you, his jacket draped over you for extra warmth, his hand abandoned to the side as he slept. But your slight movements woke him, and his deep still-human eyes met yours, sending your nerves on end. 

“Well, good morning, Bunny, you feelin’ any better?”

You nodded and stared into his eyes, unsure what to say or how to say it. “You got all that for me?” You asked, your voice soft and gentle as I looked over at the opened bag, the large handful of IV bags resting comfortably inside.

The Ghoul peeked over to the bag and back at you with a small smile. “Possibly,” he replied coolly. “Had to make sure you didn’t go and die on me,” he chuckled. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

You figured that was the sweetest confession you’d get from a man like this, so you took it and smiled wide while you scooted your body closer to his, gripping onto the remnants of his tattered shirt. “Thank you, cowboy, wouldn’t know what to do without you. And I’m sorry… I shouldn’t been so stupid-”

“You ain’t stupid, you should always tell me shit like this though, I could’a got some for you sooner,” he chastised. “Don’t hide shit like that, okay?” He seemed annoyed, but not by you, by the fact he could have lost you.

There wasn’t a way you could pinpoint what he was feeling, this man was a complicated creature, so you just stared across at the wall as you thought about your next words. “I just… didn’t want to trouble you. You think I’m this capable person who can help you when I’m not, I can’t even help myself. And I didn’t want you to… well…” You paused, unsure of how to word this next.

He didn’t rush you when you sought the words, he continued to lay there, offering you some form of comfort in the only way he knew how. The tension between the two of you was palpable as the time passed, and you could tell there was something on his mind. 

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, and I didn’t want you to pull away… I don’t regret that night, I’d do it again with the same consequences,” you said firmly. 

He looked down at you, his eyes bore into yours as you spoke, telling him you would rather go through all of this pain and suffering again just to relive that night. This was stupidity, he thought, someone like you wanting to lower yourself to chase a night with him. He started to chuckle and shook his head as he looked at you.

“I could never quite get a read from you, you know that?” He said with a playful tone in his voice. “Can’t put my finger on it.”

Your hand gripped his shirt a little tighter, trying to fight that feeling that coiled in the depths of your belly, wanting to keep this moment pure and unsoiled due to how much of this hidden side the Ghoul was showing you right now, but you had a hunger for him like no other. “Is that such a bad thing?” You asked him.

This made him laugh again, his voice drawn out as there was a deep tone, almost like a mix between a hum and a growl. “Well I guess not,” he replied gently, trying to read this moment, but still being so caught off guard by your companionship, he wasn’t about to overstep. This side of him was uncharted for over two hundred years, he wasn’t sure if he was even capable of having this side of him anymore. His hand reached out and lingered over the one that gripped at his shirt, but he wasn’t sure if he should close that space.

Your head lifted to properly meet his gaze, staring into those eyes that seemed to reach the depths of your soul. “Can I do something?” You asked, your voice quiet, nervous. He nodded, allowing you to do whatever it was you wanted. With a soft push, you rolled to your knees, crawled over toward him, and gently placed your hand on his face, bringing yours closer. “You won’t be mad?”

He scoffed in response and continued to stare into your eyes, already seeing the life spring back into them, the color seeming even more bright than they were before. It was him who closed the gap between the two of you, his mouth hungrily capturing yours while he remained hands-off, allowing you to do as you please. He was just there to learn what he could, you’d show him what to do or how to go about it, he trusted you. And that was an unspoken bond if he ever had one. 

Your hand that was gently placed on his face stroked his textured skin softly with the pad of your thumb, while the other hand reached forward and slowly began to undo the tattered buttons on the shirt he wore. You took comfort in knowing he would tell you if he didn’t want you to continue, so you waited for any sign of that, but you were met with none. Your mouth continued to hungrily meld with his, your tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, coaxing him to open further. He tried hard not to show you were getting to him, but the breathy sigh he made when your hand made contact with the bare upper half of his chest was one he couldn’t hold back. 

The smile on your face grew as you pushed the shirt from his form, both hands sliding off each side down his arms, the chill of his warm skin on yours was a feeling you sought after. He sat up and captured you in his arms, grabbing you rougher than intended, but he’d never hear you complain, and he moved your body effortlessly as he placed you down on your back, wanting to take control as he learned to explore you once again. 

He wasn’t feeling cocky or sure of himself this time, nor was he hiding behind the false boastfulness of his persona that he built for himself, but for the first time in so long, that deeply buried side of his former self slowly ate through. That ancient relic of a man he once was, the one that loved deeply. 

His hands began to work at your clothing, slowly removing your jacket, then your tank top and his fingers stopped at your undergarments, unsure if he should cross that line. You nodded as your hands reached behind you and removed it yourself, sliding the straps down your arms and revealing your bare skin to him. In this lighting, it was almost angelic as the sun kissed your skin through the broken window, his eyes drank in the sight of you while your hands went to remove the rest of what you wore. The Ghoul clenched his jaw when you were just about stripped, and his hands met yours at the hem of your underwear, asking to remove them himself without asking a thing. His hands skated down your outer thighs as you arched, allowing him to remove them completely.

No matter the lighting, the time of day, or whatever it was, he was very entranced by your body. How could something as soft looking as you survive in this harsh and blood-thirsty world? The dips, the curves, even the small knicks and markings you gained while being in the wastelands were like foreign land as his fingers explored you. You couldn’t handle how incredibly intimate this all felt, the Ghoul who was typically thirsty for blood and violence now examining your body as if it was his only salvation.

His head lowered to your breasts, kissing your skin softly as he left a soft, wet trail of kisses from your collarbone to your abdomen, wanting to see if he could try his luck. “I’m gonna try somethin’, tell me if you like it,” he said, breaking that silence to convey how new this was for him to get acquainted to.

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead…” 

The Ghoul’s lips continued to trail down your waist, slowly tracing along your skin with his fingers until he stopped just above your core. His fingers gently slid between the folds, testing just how excited you’d been, and he was not disappointed. You had been one to grow exceedingly excited just from his touch alone. He pulled his fingers away from you and placed several firm kisses against you, gauging those pretty little sounds you had spilled from your mouth. His hot breath tickled against your skin before his tongue slowly slid against you teasingly, then he did it again and again as your body convulsed, your muscles tensing whenever his tongue delved slightly deeper. 

He’d remembered from your last encounter what really pushed you over the edge and brought his thumb against you, rubbing teasing circles against your clit while he continued to use his mouth. The sounds and cries he pulled from you were only causing him to grow hungrier, your broken sentences strung together into gibberish, only able to whine from the growing build up in your lower belly that coiled tightly. 

His tongue slid further into you and your body jolted slightly, your thighs almost tightened around him, so he made himself comfortable and gripped your thighs firmly, holding them in place while he continued to assault you with his tongue.

“Fuck, cowboy,” you groaned out, your thighs shaking as he pulled away, leaving hard bites around your inner thighs and your waist, marking you to make sure you remembered who made you feel this way. 

“This feelin’ good, Bunny? Am I gettin’ this right?”

“You’re driving me insane, yes, yes-” You cried out while he licked through your folds once as you spoke, the devilish smile on his face only growing wider. Your nails dug into the sleeping bag beneath you, but your hands grabbed at his shoulders and dug in slightly to his textured skin, causing the Ghoul to bury his mouth even further against you. The moans you released were almost melodious, angelic in a way. 

The Ghoul now sucked at your sensitive flesh, making sure not to inflict too much pain unless you instructed him to, and one of his hands left your thigh so he could push two of his fingers deep inside of your warm sex. He was gentle at first in his movements, but the man was starved, needing to go faster with his mouth and his fingers. 

“You feelin’ okay?” He asked, checking on you as your body continued to spasm beneath his grip. 

All you could do was nod frantically. “I’m so close, cowboy,” you warned, your voice cracking as your entire body ignited in chills. 

“Don’t hold back, Bunny, tell me how I’m doin’,” he said, leaving no room for questioning as his tongue continued to gently slide across your heated flesh. He continued to curl his fingers in a gentle motion, his eyes peered up at your face as he worked. “How badly you wanna cum?”

“Please, I need to so bad, it feels so good,” you cried out as you tried your best to hang on, wanting him to continue. 

“Let go then,” the Ghoul commanded, his mouth continued to lick and suck at your folds as his fingers picked up their pace, his mouth working fervently as he tried his best to bring you close to the edge. 

Your fingers gripped at the blanket beneath you, your leg still being held firmly in place while your body trembled from the pleasure, keeping you in place as you chased your orgasm. You were seeing white as you squeezed your eyes shut, you moaned out the playful nickname you gave him, not sure what else to call him as the wave of your pleasure carried you to new heights. Your body lay back against the floor as you felt the energy sapped from you, your breathing was ragged and heavy as you peeked up to see the Ghoul lean back on his knees, your release coating his mouth and chin as he quickly wiped it off with his thumb, sucking it off until he was as clean as he could get. 

Words couldn’t describe what you felt with him now, being on the brink of death only to be brought back and then seek out an orgasm that hard was… it was a wave of emotions. You hoped he wouldn’t leave you there like that, but he ended up surprising you and pulling you toward him, sheltering you in his embrace as he found his spot beside you on the floor. 

He couldn’t fathom what he’d say at this moment, what could he say right now? “You know, I was almost convinced you made a mistake,” he said, his voice low. 

You looked up at him with a grimace, trying to understand what he meant. 

“You lowerin’ yourself to get all physical with someone like me,” he clarified. “And if this keeps up, I’m just gonna end up killin’ you anyway.”

“If that was true, it would be my choice,” you said. 

He looked at you curiously. “You’d want that?”

This made you laugh and you shook your head playfully. “If I have RadAway, I should be okay, not a big deal. It’s just… tempting fate I suppose. I’m gonna die at some point, why not go out a way I want to?” You teased him as your hand was placed gently against his chest. 

“You’re insane,” the Ghoul huffed with a few shakes of his head. “But… I won’t lie, I kinda like it,” he hummed and ruffled your hair playfully. 

This just made you laugh and tighten your grip on him, and you felt content despite everything that happened prior to this. “So, you’re not mad?”

“Mad? Well, now I wouldn’t go that far, maybe a little pissed off you didn’t think it was worth mentionin’ to me,” the Ghoul said matter-of-factly. “But I ain’t mad, just happy you’re okay. Don’t do that shit again, though.” “I promise, I won’t,” you said as you made a gesture across your chest. “Guess I’ll just have to grab a bag every time I see one.”

He looked over at you curiously, smiling that typical cocky smile he always wore, but he didn’t take the bait just yet. “Oh? Plannin’ on needin’ a supply of RadAway?” He wondered.

Your face flushed and felt warm as you reached over and stretched your arm out, grabbing one of the half-full IV bags, and then your gaze turned back to his. “If we’re planning on continuing whatever this is, I can’t be caught off guard again.”

The Ghoul’s eyes glimmered with mischievousness, staring at you with surprise. “You wanna continue this?”

This caused you to scoff and you looked up at him with a playful expression. “Of course? Why wouldn’t I? Went through all this trouble and you think I’m just gonna call it off, then you’re-” 

The Ghoul placed his hand on the back of your head, pulled you closer toward him, and silenced you with his lips. It lasted for a brief moment, but it was all he needed to assure you that he was still in this, and he may have threatened you to keep it quiet before, there was almost a silent understanding that hung in the air. You would keep your word though, but for now, it was just the both of you at this moment while you climbed into his lap.

He just scoffed and watched your nude form sit atop him. “Whatcha doin’ there, Bunny?” It was only meant as playful, he would never dream of pushing you away like this, he craved you more than you realized, the taste of you was divine, too. 

Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer toward you. “I wanna show you how thankful I am you saved me.”

His eyes softened and allowed his hands to slowly slide down the curves and dips of your hips, smiling wide to himself as he watched you with great interest. “Guess I’ll have to save you more often, then.” 

[limitbreaker23]

Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng in a corner at Lotus Pier, a scene taken from my head full of them.

I commissioned kaidenchi to draw my beloved ship at night for me, thank you forever!