#The Cube on Vacation with a friend

[pedropascallme]

Stars Above

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!Reader

Summary: "Perhaps sensing your discomfort, he smiled, and the thin remnants of his lips cracked open to display yellow teeth. 'You ain’t never seen a ghoul before, vaultie?'"

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) canon typical violence and lots of it, threatening language, angst, description of a panic attack, descriptions of cannibalism and dead bodies, age gap obviously (Cooper is canon 200+ years old; reader is written as early 20s), guided masturbation (f receiving), themes of voyeurism/exhibitionism, a ton of dirty talk, very mild degradation, phonetic spelling of Cooper's accent because I can, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: part 2 here!!

You had miscalculated just about everything about the surface.

You’d underestimated the ability people had to be cold and calculating in their cruelty. You’d underestimated the difficulty of navigating the endless Wasteland. You’d underestimated the effects radiation might have on you, leaving you fatigued and nauseous despite the Rad-X you’d been sure to pack away safely in your satchel.

Maybe you should’ve read the warning label.

What was worse, you thought, was how badly you had overestimated yourself. You were so certain you would be able to make a name for yourself—make a name for those you would meet; find kindness in the sand and friends in low places.

But you were just a small drop in the bucket, and nobody wanted a name. They wanted to survive in silence and safety.

You were out of rations, and nearly out of water. You’d sweat gallons through your vault suit, making the fabric itchy as it clung to your skin, and causing you to shiver sporadically as the setting sun invited a chill over the landscape. You dragged your feet over the sand, leaving a path behind you, and part of you wondered if you should just drop dead right there. The sand was soft, warm, and maybe dying on your own accord would be more comfortable than dying by the hand of someone who would kill you simply for the sheer rush of spilling blood.

You stopped moving, slumping down to the ground and coughing. There was a deep ache in your lungs, and heaving up dry air did little to quell the overall discomfort.

You wove your hands through the sand, letting it fall through your fingers.

Could you just go home? Had you ever really had a home?

You pushed down a wave of nausea, swallowing the bile that pushed up against your throat, Tumbledown buildings crumbled around you, and for once in your life you felt truly small. Once, when you were young, you had been sent to your room, and in a moment of frustrated panic you’d felt as though the walls were caving in on you. You’d stood on your bed, pushing up on tiny tiptoes, pressing your hands to the ceiling, refusing to let the walls squeeze you into a cube of yourself.

You smiled at the memory. You wished now more than ever that you could stand on your toes and push against the sky.

You heard something echo in the distance, and, flinching, squinted up into the horizon. Metal rooves reflected against the fading burden of the sun; another echo sounded, something like spurs on scrap, and you sighed, heart heavy in your chest.

Maybe this town would be the one to offer solace.

You stood on tired legs, making haste in the direction of the noise.

~~~

The tinny sounds had ceased long before you walked through the broken arch announcing the town. It was desolate, as if everybody had vacated the area before you’d made contact. Part of you took it personally, and you pouted rather childishly.

In the dimly lit dusk, you roamed the empty paths under flickering lights, stepping over caps and carts that had been turned over. When you came across a body, it became apparent that the clamor you had followed was the result of a gunfight.

You stepped over the body, too.

You had never stared at death before making your way to the surface, and it had come as a shock to you that it didn’t bother you more. Blood wasn’t as bright as it was in the movies, nor did killers give any heated last words before pulling the trigger. Any executions you had seen thus far were dull and hurried. You thought back to an old movie you watched once, one that ended with a cowboy executing a rowdy criminal, and you wondered if anybody bothered to monologue their slaughters the way he had.

You’d long forgotten the title of the film and the name of the actor, but you remembered finding him handsome.

You stooped on bent knees to pick up a piece of fruit that had fallen from one of the overturned carts. You sat there, gnawing at it, feeling the sour bites you took fall into your empty stomach. You made it to the core, tossing it over your shoulder and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. But you paused, remnants of the bitter juice still on your lips when your head shot up to analyze your surroundings.

Someone was watching you.

The sound of footsteps approaching were made all the more unsettling when paired with a boisterous, ugly laugh. Still on your knees, you squared your shoulders, looking up to meet the eyes of a man in bloodied garb and a gun on his hand.

“Saw you eating that,” his teeth were sharp, and his voice high, “Not good to litter, vaultie.” He stopped in front of you, hands on his hips as he scrutinized you. “Why don’t you go crawl over and pick that up.”

You didn’t move. He put his hands on his knees to lean over you, fumbling with his revolver.

“No,” you tried to sound confident, though your voice was quiet and didn’t carry far, “I don’t want to. Thank you.”

He howled, and it made you wince. “Thank you, now that’s sweet,” his gun came up to poke under your chin, “Thank you…I wasn’t asking, girl.”

You tried to find your voice again, but the barrel of the gun was pressed into your neck, and you knew he would seize on any reason to pull the trigger. You inhaled through your nose, trying to buy yourself some time.

A shadow came up behind you, wrapping you in darkness as something approached soundlessly. The man in front of you faltered, and you watched as the confidence drained from his eyes.

“Ain’t that sweet…” A drawling voice, almost saccharine, came from the source of the shadow, and you knew then that it was someone. “Find y'self a toy there, Otis?”

The man—Otis, maybe—who had previously seemed so cocky with his demands, retreated into himself slightly, straightening back up to his full height to meet the eyes of whoever stood behind you.

“You’re not welcome here, Ghoul,” he scowled, “Finders keepers.”

“Well, now, I don’ think y’really in any position to give orders.” It was only now you that wondered whether you were being fought over not out of any sympathetic, weeping heart on behalf of the person behind you, or whether this was a battle for who got to see your blood flow.

“Yeah?” Otis chuckled, “Why’s that?”

You saw the man behind you gesture with his gun in your peripheral. “You got a hole in yo’ neck.”

You watched Otis squint in confusion in the split second before a shot whirred above your head and hit him clean through the throat. He crumpled to the ground, gagging on death, before he let out a damning noise and ceased all movement.

You took deep, shaky breaths, finding the courage to stand up, to turn around and get a good look at your savior.

When you did finally came face level with the man called ‘Ghoul,’ you felt that your initial instinct in referring to a thing behind you had been more apt after all.

His skin was reddened and chapped, marred with scars that covered his face and ran down his neck. He was hairless, as far as you could tell, and his eyes were sunken deep below the ridge where his eyebrows should’ve been. He was decked out in a cowboy costume, long duster to match his Stetson, gun strapped to his hip that paired nicely with his ammo belt.

He had no nose.

Perhaps sensing your discomfort, he smiled, and the thin remnants of his lips cracked open to display yellow teeth. “You ain’t never seen a ghoul before, vaultie?”

You continued to scan his face, and after a few fleeting moments you met his eyes; you couldn’t tell what color they were, if they were hazel or brown or maybe just yellow, muted by the evening, and the shadow cast over his face by the brim of his hat.

No matter the color, you thought they were pretty all the same.

You hesitated, shaking your head.

“Well, ain’t you lucky. Now yo’meetin’ The Ghoul.” His eyes widened, menacing but amused, and you took a step back, nearly stumbling on Otis’s lifeless feet.

“Th—um. Thank you,” you ignored his grandiose introduction, “For…” You gestured behind you.

The Ghoul tipped his hat forward, “Not a problem.” He took a step back, mirroring your movements, “C’mon now. S’dark.”

You made a face, “Oh—no, I…Thank you, for, you know, for helping me out, but I don’t—I’m not really looking for—”

He whistled, and the shrill cut you off, “You really don’know a question if it hit ya in the ribs, sweetheart.” He smirked, “I wasn’t askin’.”

“But I don’t,” you started, watching as he unraveled a rope from his side and tied a knot into it, “I would rather not go with you. I’m—you caught me at a bad time, really, I’m usually just fine by myself.”

“Well…” He tightened the knot, “you keep tellin’ yourself that while we walk.” He swung the rope over his head, and you realized too late that he had been tying a lasso. It came down around your midriff, trapping your hands at your sides when he pulled.

“Hey!” You tried to fight, moving your elbows beneath the constraint and burning your skin in the process.

The Ghoul circled you, stooping down to pick up the gun that had fallen off of Otis’s person, before his face came to peek over your shoulder, cheek to cheek with you. “Hi, there.” He smirked, tugging your restrictions.

~~~

You were used to endless roaming by now. It’s all there was to do; outrun the danger before it could find you, then do the same again when faced with a new conundrum. But the Ghoul walked fast, long strides made tuneful with the help of the spurs on his boots. There was a nice consistency, the metal almost sounded like a lilting voice, though you wished it was less frantic.

You had lost feeling in your fingers, unable to grip your belongings properly, and in a kind gesture that you hadn’t expected from him, the Ghoul hoisted your bag onto his shoulder. You were stiff and sore, and maybe the rope was keeping blood from rushing to your brain, because you couldn’t stop staring at him from behind, watching the way his gloved hand pressed into the bag—your bag—on his hip.

“Where are we going?” You piped up, breaking the silence you’d been stewing in for the past hour. You got no response, so you pushed on. “Where are you taking me?” He didn’t break his stride, pulling you along like the lost puppy you were. You pulled your body against the strain of the rope, digging your heels into the ground and stopping in your tracks. “And what’s a ghoul?”

You watched his shoulders slump as he, too, came to a halt. He let out a sigh, turning around to face you. “Nowhere,” he counted on his fingers as he began to answer your questions in order, “Wherever I go. Me.”

You shifted awkwardly on your feet. “So…you’re the only one?”

“Never said that.” He turned his back to you again. “Y’see that clearin’ there,” he pointed into the distance at a group of rocks sunken into the sand. “That’s your bed t’night.” He started walking again, and you followed suit.

The night cast long shadows over the expansive nothingness, and the air made you shiver. The wind pushed at your hair, which in turn clung to your temples with the excess sweat of the day.

“You aren’t the only one, then,” you kept talking, “Are you—is it the radiation? Or are you a…a people?”

He let out a short chuckle. “The only people left. Far’s I’m concerned.” He skirted around your question, leading you around the rocks and finding a comfortable spot that left you hidden in the darkness. He dropped the rope, tossing your bag to the side as he did so, and you grumbled about how he shouldn’t be so careless with things that weren’t his own. He ignored you, walking over with an expressionless face and deftly tugging the knot from the rope. It fell in a heap around your ankles, and you let out a thankful, happy noise. He tossed a glance your way, eyeing you almost curiously, before beginning to make a small fire at the center of your open-air hideout.

You fell to the ground, exhausted, and addled by the events of the past few hours. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back. The rock behind you may well have been a pillow, the ache in your bones finding comfort in even the most unyielding of resting places.

You opened your eyes tentatively, reluctant to see any more of the Wasteland that you had so callously thought would welcome you with open arms. When you finally blinked up, the blackness of the night blanketed you, and with it, there were stars.

Not stars like the ones on a TV screen. Not stars like the ones behind your eyes after staring into your lamp for too long. Not stars like the ones you drew on your ceiling as a child. Not stars like the ones projected in the common area during a dinner you were told was meant to authentically replicate a Fourth of July celebration.

Real stars.

Gaseous beings that reflected against the sand, lightyears away but close enough to touch, if you could just reach out and grab one; cradle it in your cupped hands and let the fire permeate your palms.

Treat it like a child. Treat it beautifully.

“What’re you lookin’ at,” the Ghoul’s rasp broke you from your existential musings.

You looked forward, finding his sunken eyes across the light of the fire that paled in comparison to the light above you. “If you…if you wanted to kill me, I’m ready now.”

You watched weathered skin stretch taut across his yellowed teeth. You knew it was, perhaps, a bit inappropriate, but for a moment you couldn’t ignore the way the word ‘beautiful’ bounced around your head when you looked at him.

“Not gonna kill ya,” he poked at the fire with a stick, “No good t’me dead.”

“Well then, what?” You lost your filter, uncaring. There were stars in the sky, there was air on your skin, and you didn’t care if you died in the middle of the barren land your ancestors would have once called home. “What good am I to you alive?” You let a laugh out, thin and strained, “Are you just keeping me around so I—so I don’t get lonely?”

He tossed the stick to the side, and the sand caught it with a pathetic thump. “How long you been in them vaults?” He leaned forward.

You made a face, searching for a tone in his gaze. “My whole life,” you scoffed. He knew that.

“’N how long you been up here for?”

You looked away, embarrassed, and tried to hide how you attempted to count the days on your fingers. “I…don’t know…” You gave up.

“You don’ know,” he stared into the fire, “Don’t know shit about lonely.” There was a beat of silence, and the whisper of the wind filled the gap in conversation. He straightened out, meeting your eyes again and smirking as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just been thrown back to a time when he would’ve come home to a freshly cooked meal and his daughter on his hip and his dog circling his feet. “Plus,” he rustled a hand in his pocket, pulling out an inhaler and taking a puff, “You’ll make good bait.”

“Good bait?” You interrogated him.

“Ya noticed how bad news seems t’follow you round here?” He stretched his arms behind his head, and you felt a sudden heat on your cheeks that you chalked up to sunburn. “Pretty thing like you pro’ly has a whole army o’folks after her. ‘N I’m guessing them folks ain’t the kind you’d like t’hang around.”

“Like you?” You raised a brow, throwing his words back at him.

“You’d like that,” he huffed. “Darlin’, I’m playin’ the oldest game there is: set a trap ‘n the critters will fall into’t.”

You mulled over what he’d said, narrowing your eyes and looking at your hands as you came to your conclusion. “You’re talking about—you’re a bounty hunter…” You looked back up at him, and he was grinning. “And you’re talking about using me as a decoy!” Your posture straightened, and you stared daggers into him.

“Guilty as charged,” he tilted his head at you.

“You can’t do that—I’m not just going to let you do that.” You fumed.

“Don’t have to,” he shrugged, jutting out his lower lip, “Can leave right now, ‘f’ya want.” His features morphed into a grim smirk, “But I don’t think a li’l vaultie like you knows a goddamn thing 'bout what’s waitin’ round the corner.”

You swallowed, trying to form a biting response, but he continued.

“But, hell, f’you wanna risk it…” he put the inhaler back into one of his pockets, “Be my guest, vaultie. Free t’go.”

You huffed, and he smiled. He was right, and you both knew it; left to your own devices, you'd be dead in that town he found you in. You settled into your fate.

“Don’t call me vaultie.” You muttered, tired of the way the seemingly derogatory title had been hurled at you since you first emerged from the safety of your life underground.

“Gonna have to tell me y’name, then,” he tilted his head, waiting. You told him your name, and he laughed. “Look’it that. Friends already.”

“You’re not my friend,” you didn’t know where the venom was coming from; somewhere between him helping you out and him sitting in front of you now, you’d decided he was attractive, charismatic, maybe not the worst company you could be stuck with. But after learning what your new role was, you felt more than a little cheated.

“Damn right I’m not.” He whistled, and you turned away from him, curling into a ball on the ground.

“’M going to sleep,” you grumbled. “Wake me up if you decide to go fishing,” you raised your head for a moment, “You’ll need your lure.”

That got you a real laugh, the first genuine sound you'd heard from him.

And you liked it, despite the ire you felt towards him now. 

~~~

You woke up under the blazing sun with sand in your hair. You blinked hard, trying to remember where you were, how you got there, and what had happened to your bag.

Your questions were answered when a shadow engulfed you from above, and you looked up to face the Ghoul.

He had his hat off, letting you gather more evidence to support your belief that he was completely hairless. He stayed quiet, looming over you and watching you groan under the misfortune of wakefulness.

You grunted at him, pushing yourself up to stand, shaking the sand from your body as you did. “You didn’t wake me up last night.”

“You complainin’?” He knit his naked brow.

“No…just, I figured you might want me to keep watch,” you dug sand from your ear, “You trying to tell me that you’re fine just going without sleep?”

“Succeedin’, by the sound of it,” he smirked, and you pursed your lips. “You can stay up as late as ya want next time, darlin’. Don’ let me stop ya.”

“I won’t.” You snatched your bag from his hand and turned to find a way out of the maze of rocks you’d slept in.

He grinned. “Lead on, then.”

And you did, spending several days on a loop; walk, rest, walk, sleep, wake up, pick a direction, repeat. He shared rations and water, he let you sleep when he could’ve forced you to take watch, but he was quiet. It was as if he was so used to life as a predator that he couldn’t even toy with the idea of letting his guard down when there was nobody but you around for miles upon miles. And it wasn't as if you were any threat to him.

It drove you crazy. The benefit that came with having someone like him, skilled and sharp, was greatly dampened by the lack of any real socialization.

You were grateful, at the very least, that it had only taken him a night to decide you no longer needed to be constrained; you liked being able to carry your own things, and, even more, being able to use your own hands. Your arms still felt raw, fading rope burn wounds licking shallowly at your skin under your sleeves, but at least you were free to stretch them now.

The Ghoul stayed several steps behind you when you walked, always keeping his distance but watching closely as you struggled to pretend to know where you were going.

Now, you wiped sweat from your forehead, stopping momentarily to let a cool breeze whip at your face.

“Hell are you doin’ now?” The Ghoul’s dry voice was carried to you by the wind. It was the first thing he’d said to you, unprompted, in two days.

“Feels good,” you sighed, turning to him with your eyes closed and holding your arms out beside you, “The wind. It’s nice.”

“Won’t be in a second.” You opened your eyes to green clouds in the distance behind him. “Because that,” he motioned back at the clouds with his head, “s’a radstorm. And you,” he tipped his hat at you, grazing the brim with his fingers, “Ain’t gonna do too well out in it.”

As if on cue, a bolt of lightning shot down, followed by a loud clap, emphasizing the Ghoul’s words.

“Better have some Rad-X in that bag, sweetheart,” his lips were parted, and you noticed that, although his teeth were yellowed by years of chewing on god knows what, they were remarkably straight. “Oughta get ya under cover.”

You’d heard about radstorms, and assumed, in your naivete, that you’d be able to make it through one without any problems. But the speed at which the disagreeably green clouds approached, and the tone of voice used by your companion, made you feel as though this, too, was something you’d been wrong about.

Maybe you went pale, looking as nauseous as you felt, but then there was a guiding hand on your waist. You jumped, unprepared for any contact and ready to gripe about it, before following the man’s gaze beyond a small sand hill.

“C’mon,” his eyes stayed trained on a ramshackle house just a short distance away, “Can wait it out.”

You nodded, falling over your own feet when he began walking at a brisk pace. The hand he’d placed on the small of your back worked as leverage to get you to hurry up and match his stride.

You closed the door just as the wind started to pick up.

“Woo,” the Ghoul raised his arms above his head, stretching. “S’a nice place we got here.”

You looked around the building; some remaining wallpaper clung to the walls for dear life, there was a couch that looked to be more sand than cushion, and a single table, overturned, in the corner.

“Is it?” You questioned.

“Ya wanna go check outside, see f’ya prefer that?” He challenged, and you backed down, scowling at him.

“How long will the storm last?” You trailed your eyes over the cabin, trying to see if there was anything worth looking at.

There wasn’t.

“An hour,” the Ghoul situated himself on the sofa, “A day. Maybe two.” He took off his hat, fanning himself with it.

“So…we’re stuck here?” You finally let your eyes wander over to him, finding yourself oddly enamored by the way his high, hollow cheekbones framed his face.

“You got somewhere you wanna be?” He stretched his arms over the back of the couch, leaning back and spreading his legs. You blamed the pulse that went through you on radiation, turning away to rummage through your pack for Rad-X.

“Just not much to do.” You swallowed the pill, kicking at a pile of sand that had found its way onto the wooden floor.

“Welcome to the surface, darlin’,” he gestured vaguely, and you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile that etched itself onto your lips.

“Doesn’t help that you don’t talk.” You tried to fill the silence that you knew was imminent.

“Talkin’ now,” he shot back, moving his hips from the couch to get properly settled, and you knew you couldn’t blame radiation for the way you squeezed your thighs together.

“Yeah, but,” you acquiesced to your urge to join him on the old sofa, “I’ve known you for less than a week, and even I can tell it’s a rarity.”

“Maybe I just don’t like you,” he smirked, putting his hat back on, and you frowned at him.

“Then you wouldn’t be keeping me around for company.”

“Bait,” he corrected you.

“Call it what you want,” you let your head fall back onto the couch, “Still choosing to keep me around.” You waited anxiously to see if he would point out that it was you who had taken the opportunity to stick with him, after his vague threat of what loomed in the wastes made you back down from your plan to run that first night.

You closed your eyes, listening to the storm batter the house outside. He took the moment to look at you, analyzing your features. He took in the positive glow that reflected off of you, yet to be rubbed off by the experiences you were sure to have.

Maybe he’d be able to buy you some time. Maybe that glow wouldn’t fade.

“Sure,” he nodded, “Whatever y’wanna tell yourself.”

You nudged his knee with yours. It was an adolescent approach, something you would’ve done during classes; playing footsie with the boy you thought was cute, with his hair slicked back and his vault suit pressed and tidy. Something done for attention, in the hopes that maybe he’d take even the smallest of hints and return the childish gesture of affection.

The Ghoul was not pressed and tidy. But, and you were slowly admitting it to yourself, he was cute.

You couldn’t see yourself ever admitting it to him.

“You never answered my question yesterday,” you realized now was as good a time as any to quiz him, stuck with you while the storm raged. “What’s a ghoul?”

“Yes, I did,” he had let his eyes close, too, “I am.”

“That’s not a good answer.” You tsked, “I wanna know—I want the real answer,” you moved to sit on your knees, “Give me the real answer.”

He opened his eyes, scanning you up and down. “Yer damn good bait, sweetheart,” he nodded, giving in and facing you. You thought maybe he was paying you a compliment, but you swallowed the urge to ask him what he meant. “I don’t know what to tell ya other than I am a ghoul.”

“Why?” You pressed.

“Why’d’ya think?” He countered, “Case you didn’t notice, we ain’t in one o’your underground lairs. Radiation’s gonna get us all, and when it does,” he leaned forward, “Y’gonna look just like me.”

You swallowed, unsure if this was a threat or a warning. You looked down at his gloved hands, then back up at him. “Does it hurt?”

His expression was blank. You continued.

“Your—is it your skin?” You tried to clarify, “Does it hurt?”

His expression gradually changed to one of confusion as he processed your words; nobody had ever asked him something as simple as that. “Don’t hurt. f’I get shot…stings for a sec, but…y’get used to it.”

“So, you can’t really feel it?”

“Oh,” he let out a low chuckle, “I can feel it. Where it counts.”

You stuck out your tongue, and heat crept over the back of your neck. “Don’t be crude.”

“Ain’t try’na be,” he smiled, “You’re the one whose mind’s wanderin’.”

“So it just feels like skin?” You changed the subject, “Or is it more like muscle…or scar tissue?” Without thinking, you raised your hand and extended it forward, curiosity getting the best of you. He caught your wrist in his hand, the leather on his fingers pressing softly into your bone. You gasped, and he looked at you, cautious, fingers shifting on your skin. As if in slow motion, he raised your hand to his face, and you stretched out two fingers to ever so gently graze down his cheek.

His breath caught in his throat, startled by the intimacy of having someone touch him just to touch him. To feel him.

Similarly, you’d stopped breathing all together.

His skin was ridged and rough, but the small grooves between the scarred flesh were smooth, almost downy. You didn’t look him in the eyes, though you could sense his as they bore into you. You chose to examine the rest of his face instead, the bumps and scars and jagged edges that your hand ghosted over. Finally, you gave in, looking into his eyes for only a brief moment.

He had eyelashes. Small lashes, barely noticeable beneath his hat and the sunken hollows of his eyes, but they were definitely there. He looked pretty, this small part of him capturing some kind of hidden essence of humanity underneath his daunting character. The tiny detail had caught you off guard more than the act of being allowed to touch him had, and your fingers faltered, stuttering against his skin.

You let your hand go limp in his grip, and he let you retract it.

“So?” He questioned after a beat.

“What?”

“What’d’t feel like?”

“Oh,” you remembered what had led you to the opportunity to touch him in the first place, “Scar tissue.” You landed on, easier to say that than trying to explain that you thought his skin was as comfortable as velvet to drag your fingers across.

He lifted a brow, nodding in approval.

“How come you don’t have a nose?” More questions bubbled from your throat before you could stop them, eager to force the tension in the atmosphere to dissipate.

“God almighty, y’ask a lot of fuckin’ questions,” he wiped a hand down his face, “Decades of radiation ain’t forgivin’ on cartilage.”

“Decades?” You narrowed your eyes playfully.

“Don’t you go askin’ more, now,” he chided, “Ain’t polite to ask someone their age, they not teach you that down there?”

You dropped it for now. “You still have ears. Those are cartilage.”

“Not part of the original model.” He smirked, and when he saw you tilt your head, confused, he took a deep breath and continued, “Sometimes, darlin’, ya gotta use what ya find.”

Your eyes went wide, “They’re—you stole body parts?” Your eyes narrowed again, “You’re lying.”

He didn’t answer verbally, just shot a devious smile your way.

“How come I can’t see your brain?” You bounced to your next question.

“Would ya like to?” He shot back, and you cringed. “Didn’t think so.”

“But how come—”

“Jesus Christ,” he dipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his inhaler and taking two short puffs, “Can I get a word in, here?”

You let your next question die in your mouth, shelving it for later. You nodded.

“Why’d you come up here?” The Ghoul’s voice took a softer edge, and you couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or if he had some genuine interest in your case.

Either way, you thought it was improper, and you shook your head, barely enough for it to be noticeable. You’d been trying to ask the obvious questions, things you were certain he was asked all the time, that he’d have answers for at the ready. You hadn’t asked about his life, how he got out here or why he dressed like a goddamn gunslinger. You could’ve, but you were trying to be at least a little bit polite.

“That’s not fair.” You said simply.

“Alright, how come you got a nose,” he smirked, letting his words hang in the air before they dropped at his feet when he saw the way your demeanor had changed on a dime. “Now, look—I didn’t mean to make y'upset, sweetheart—”

“I, uh…” You took a long breath, gearing up for the challenge of communicating a logical answer. “…Do you ever sit somewhere so nice for so long, and then after a while you start thinking that it’s too good to be true?” You looked up at him, and the tears in your eyes were evident, “Like, maybe you sat on something, or the whole time there was a snake in the grass right next to you...or something?”

The Ghoul watched your face intently, hardly nodding.

“And even though the snake didn’t lunge at you, or, you know, you got to enjoy the peace and quiet before getting up and noticing you sat on something, it’s like, you’re flooded with these what ifs about what would’ve happened if you’d been sitting just a second longer…” You were looking at him, but you weren’t, really; your eyes went right through him, and you pictured a time when you thought nothing could ever go wrong. “Or if you’d never sat there at all.” You blinked, shaking your head, and you wiped a tear that had dared to breach over your lash line. “I had to get up, right? Outfit was stained…and I could see the snake getting ready to…make quick work of me.”

You cradled your chin in your hands, trying to control your breathing so you wouldn’t have to subject yourself to the embarrassment of crying in front of someone that likely wouldn’t care.

Your explanation echoed in the Ghoul’s mind. He thought about his divorce, that dumb fucking suit he’d been conned into wearing without really knowing what it meant.

A snake and a stain. He understood.

“Ain’t no snakes up here,” he tried his hand at reassuring you, “Can’t promise y’won’t get dirty, though.”

“I know,” you sniffed, “Got blood on me already.” You knew it was stupid to complain about, but you didn’t even know whose blood it was.

“There’ll be more,” he sighed, “But you’ll care less.”

You let yourself laugh softly. “Yeah,” you wiped your eyes, “Yeah. I hope you’re right.”

“I tend to be.” He smirked, back to his carefree, cocky demeanor. You rolled your eyes weakly, laughing quietly, and you found yourself leaning against him. His shoulder was stiff beneath your head, like he wasn’t sure how to hold himself in the situation that you’d put him in. You turned your head slightly, nosing his neck, and he didn’t stop you, though he stayed rigid.

You let yourself breathe him in; arid and smoky, the leather of his clothes mingling with the scent of sun that clung to his skin. There was something else, a note of iron buried under the warmer scents, the cold bouquet of dry blood. Having death flood your nose like that, you recognized, probably should’ve been alarming, perhaps even petrifying. But it wasn’t—not on him.

You liked it.

You sat back up, your face close to his, and if he had a nose, you were sure it would be touching your own. He didn’t look upset as his eyes darted over your face, which felt reassuring, even though you already knew you hadn’t really done anything wrong.

“Y’hear that?” He muttered.

“What?” You turned your head, trying to listen for whatever he was hearing.

“Storm stopped,” he cracked a small smile at you, and you breathed a sigh of relief. He stood up, making his way over the floor. “C’mon, darlin’,” he gestured to the door, “See if we can catch ourselves a rainbow.”

You let out a real, honest to god laugh. It gave you a hint of whiplash, how the Ghoul had managed to save your life, make you hate him, and then make you want to kiss him in such rapid succession over the course of only a few days.

You found yourself suddenly aloof to the idea that he was threatening to use you as a lure for unsuspecting bounties. He was keeping you around, keeping you safe, and you liked him just fine.

Maybe even a little more than that.

~~~

How far, at this point, had you walked? Miles of ground in front of you, miles of ground behind you. It felt like you’d gone nowhere, despite the thousands of steps you’d taken over the course of the week. You were going nowhere, you reminded yourself; aimlessly trekking across the Wasteland and finding what there was to find, looking at what there was to look at.

The Ghoul didn’t seem to have a job at the moment. He’d made it clear that he was employed—if you could call being a bounty hunter a regular nine-to-five—but he hadn’t made any moves to imply that he was searching for anybody, or anything, unless you were to count the vials and chems he ransacked from every hole and hovel he came across.

He continued to surprise and delight, and occasionally disgust, you. You’d seen him eat the raw flesh of dead and desiccated creatures—some that looked human—off the sand. (“Remember what I said, ‘bout usin’ whatcha find?” “That’s disgusting, you don’t know what kind of germs could be crawling around there.” “Think someone that looks like me’s worried ‘bout germs, sweetheart?”) You’d seen him draw a weapon faster than you could take a breath; you’d seen him kill a man without blinking.

But you were wowed by him all the same, the rasp of his voice and the way he whistled through his teeth, the life behind his eyes that teemed with stories of a past you hadn’t been able to shake out of him yet. You hadn’t touched him, had barely closed the often yard-wide gap between the two of you that had become the unspoken norm, since the day the radstorm hit.

Maybe it was for the best. What would your family say about him? They'd be disgusted, horrified by the mere thought of him.

That just made you want him more.

“Can we stop soon?” You withdrew yourself from your thoughts, tired of the way your muscles tensed with every step. The Ghoul didn’t respond, side-eyeing you from beneath his hat. “I’m tired. My legs hurt.” He smirked, and you thought you heard him huff a laugh, but the distance between you was too vast to pick up on the smaller sounds. “Don’t laugh at me, I can’t help you if I can’t move.”

That got his attention. “Y'think you’re helpin’ me?” He smiled. 

“Not burdening you…” You argued about what he’d left unsaid.

“Not doin’ much work, either.” He grunted, and you shot him a dirty look. “Keep on walkin’, darlin’.”

“I don’t want to.” You stomped your foot, regressing into the same shielded, spoiled vault-dweller you knew he thought you were.

“Then how ya gonna get over there’?” He nodded forward, and you followed the direction of his gesture, squinting to see a large, semi-burnt down storefront. “C’mon, sweetheart.” He kept walking, picking up his pace and forcing you to speed up after him. “Y’wanna break, or what?”

The building was in alright condition, as far as the other spaces you’d seen; the windows were broken, the glass finding its way to the ground and becoming sand after what must have been centuries of effort. Someone had started a fire, and ash flaked off the brick. You forced yourself on tired limbs to close the distance between yourself and shelter.

“Go on,” the Ghoul leaned against the doorframe of the store’s entrance, “Check it out.”

“You’re not coming?” You whispered. You knew he wasn’t. This, too, had become common: you were sent in—bait—and he followed behind you at a distance to keep an eye out on who- or whatever might jump out.

He stayed quiet, showing his teeth, and you pouted at him, making your way deeper into the old store.

There was no electricity, but the sun seeped through the cracks in the walls as it began to dip in the sky, creating an almost cozy ambiance. It was huge, the ceilings were high and the store itself must have once housed a near infinite amount of material goods.

You’d be lucky now if you could find a corner that hadn’t already been raided.

Everything was bathed in grays and blues, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the way your eyes adjusted to the dim light, or if the building had been standing for so long that the color had drained out into the desert. Either way, it was eerie, and your finger trembled on the trigger of the rusted pistol the Ghoul had given you as a means of self-preservation. You didn’t really know how to use it, but it was the principle of the thing, you figured.

You maneuvered your way around spent bullet casings and glass, trying to stay silent despite the echo of your footsteps. You heard spurs behind you, the Ghoul following your trail at a safe distance. There was a clamoring, something further into the building down a dark hall that sounded like machinery groaning. You jumped, and the gun in your hand slipped from your grip, sliding across the floor with a harsh skid.

You froze, wincing, and listening for any sign that you’d been heard. The sound of the Ghoul’s steps behind you had also stopped, and you knew then that you’d fucked up—if he was listening, waiting the way you were, then there was cause for alarm. With your heart beating in your ears, you bent forward, fingers creeping across the floor until you managed to get a grip on the tarnished metal of the gun. Standing with a sigh, you worked on regulating your breathing, trying to ease the way your heart beat in your ears.

And then you heard the snap of glass shattering, the rhythm of voices without any real words besides grunts and snarls. You jumped, and your back hit a wall with an unceremonious thump before you fell to your knees.

The sources of the noise approached, surrounding you and leaving you with no route out. You looked straight ahead at withered limbs, clothing torn around ankles and skin peeling off of bone.

And when you looked up, it was him.

Except it wasn’t, not really; the Ghoul was only one man, and before you stood four. All similarly scarred, with broken teeth and missing noses, but there was no individuality—no light in their eyes to tip you off as to who they may have been, once upon a time. The sounds they made were inhuman, screeches that seemed torn from their lungs, maybe due to pain, maybe due to joy, you couldn’t tell. And as they circled you, you didn’t want to find out.

You fumbled with your pistol, unsure of whether the safety was on or off. Your aim was unsteady, and the darting movements of the figures that crowded you made it even more difficult to find a proper target. You winced, aiming at a leg and pulling the trigger.

There was a bang, but it didn’t come from your weapon.

“Gotta do all th’fuckin’ work,” you heard the Ghoul, snide and confident even despite the gravity of the situation. He shot to kill, quick to find weakness, and chuckling when they fell in heaps atop their own feet.

You watched him kick at a corpse. The noise subsided as he holstered his weapon, but you had covered your ears and were unwilling to remove your hands.

“Hell was that?” The Ghoul was standing in front of you now, his voice muffled through your palms. You stared past him at the bodies on the ground, at one point daring to let your eyes dart from the deceased to the man who killed them and back; the similarities were glaring, and it made bile rise to the back of your mouth, fighting your throat’s constriction as you choked down tears.

And suddenly you were sobbing, pulse beating hard against your skin and sweat collecting on your back. You felt sick, you felt scared—maybe even betrayed. You were panicking, unable to breathe or speak or think, only aware of the fact that you were utterly terrified.

“Well, now—hey,” You’d uncovered your ears, wrapping your arms around your knees and squeezing them to your chest, letting the Ghoul’s voice travel to you with more ease.

“Y—” you felt like you were hyperventilating, “You.” Trying to voice your concerns proved difficult in this state.

The Ghoul watched on, the muscle in his jaw tightening as he debated what to do.

He didn’t like you like this. He liked you feisty and stubborn, chatty and glowing. In the dark light of the building, splattered with feral blood and choking on your own breath, you were far from what he’d gotten used to. It startled him a little, not the image of you crying—he’d seen you cry before, and he'd seen far worse from others—but the knowledge that, to an extent, it was his fault.

And he could blame his response on the part of him that still felt shame, something that morphed into a nagging urge to defend himself against accusations of being a downright monster. But he knew, deep down somewhere, that it was because of the part of him that still felt compassion; empathy, even fondness, for you.

That’s why he sat next to you, sliding his back down against the wall while you spluttered and coughed through tears.

He eased the old pistol away from you, pushing it into a crack in the wall and cursing himself for letting you have it in the first place. You’d be better off without it; he’d do all he could to keep you protected.

“Not me, darlin’,” he kept his voice low, “Ferals. Of which I am not one…” Yet, he could’ve mentioned, but even he could choose denial.

“They look—had your face.” You heaved, rocking back slightly.

“You really think I’m that ugly?” He laughed, but you remained despondent, painted with a thousand-yard stare. He took on a different approach. “Listen, now. C’mon, sweetheart, look.” He draped a hand over your shoulder, and despite the loose, open-ended nature of the touch, you felt significantly more grounded. “’Member how I said this face’ll be everybody’s someday?”

You nodded, remembering his jab at your question during the radstorm. Your heartbeat wailed against your skull.

“’N then, someday…” He hadn’t experienced difficulty in picking his word choice like this since trying to answer Janey’s question about where babies came from. “Someday it all turns to shit. You turn into a—a nameless drop in the bucket.” He said, frankly. “But it’s, uh…it’s preventable, to an extent.”

“You don’t have a name.” You stared at him, skin blotchy and eyes swollen. It broke his heart a little. “You already don’t have a name.”

“Happens to the best ‘f us.” He tamped down the stutter in his chest, finding a way to circumvent your unspoken question. "All ghouls, eventually...go a little feral."

“All ghouls turn feral…” You repeated the moral of his story, and he nodded.

He fished a vial from him pocket, holding it out to you. “Long as I got these, I’ll be jus’ peachy.”

You let him drop the vial in your hand, looking at the off-color liquid inside of it and squeezing it in your palm. “I don’t want…” You let go of the glass, holding it back out to him. “I don’t want it to happen to you.”

“Makes two of us,” he put the vial back into his pocket, sighing. “But I got plenty o’these, ‘n there’s always more t'be found.”

You stayed quiet, letting your limbs finally relax and spreading your legs out in front of you. There was a long pause that you spent calming your heart rate, letting your lungs relax.

“I like you the way you are.” You whispered, and it was those words that finally made him own his feelings; the way you are. Not the way you were, not who you could’ve been or who you were meant to be. You appreciated him as he was, and it was the first time in more than two centuries that he had felt any sense of warmth from another living thing. It was the first time in just as long that he’d felt like a man and not a monstrosity.

It was why he didn’t fight it when you wrapped yourself around him, arms tugging him down into a tight hug. He scoffed at the display of what he assumed—hoped—was affection, but he let his arms circle your body.

Your face pressed into his neck, firmer than the brief moment you’d shared on the couch, and you breathed him in now just as you had then; the heat and the tin of his skin, the leather of his duster, and the iron of his ammo belt that dug into your front. He was softer now, malleable to your touch, unlike the stiff, unmoving man he’d been when you leaned up against him all those weeks ago.

He rested his chin on the crown of your head, taking a long, deep breath. “’N I like you much more when you ain’t blubberin’ like a goddamn newborn.”

You giggled, knowing that it was the closest he'd get to telling you that he cared, even a little bit.

“The stars,” you mumbled against him, and he pulled back, trying to look down at your face.

“What’s’at?”

“That first night, outside. You asked me what I was looking at,” you explained, “And I told you that you could kill me if you wanted, instead of just answering you. But I was looking at the stars…” You sighed, settling back against the wall.

He scoffed. “Jus’ stars.”

“No.” You argued, “Not just stars. They’re everything.” You tilted your head at him, and he accepted with a shrug.

He let his head loll back, removing his hat and scanning the surroundings. He caught a glimpse of something in his peripheral, a wide crack in the upper part of the wall that let the night seep in. He elbowed you, nodding his chin in the direction of the hole that opened the building to the sky.

“Look‘t that.” He smiled at the way you lit up next to him, and he followed your gaze to appreciate the view in silence with you.

Comfortable next to him, centimeters replacing the usual feet between you, you saw life in the stars the same way you saw life behind his eyes. And he didn’t understand your excitement, until he looked hard enough and saw the same shimmer in the sky that he saw in you.

“Cooper.” He mumbled, still looking at the stars. You turned to him, lips parted in preparation to ask what he was talking about. “My name. I got one—Cooper.”

You smiled, an inexplicable sense of tranquility washing over you as the new knowledge settled in your brain. “Cooper.” You said, testing the weight of the letters on your tongue.

“Don’t go usin’ it up. Make me regret tellin’ ya,” he smirked, trying to hide his satisfaction upon hearing you say his name behind a veneer of callousness. “Got a reputation t’keep.”

You breathed deep, not quite a yawn but more than a sigh. “I know, Cooper.” You rested your head on his shoulder, not to test the waters or attempt a romantic gesture; it was just pleasant to experience something quiet, personal, like this. “I know.”

~~~

“Christ, you sleep like a fuckin’ rock.” His voice was the first thing you registered when you opened your bleary eyes. Your neck was stiff, your cheeks felt crusty with the residue of dry tears, and the floor was crooked. You’d fallen asleep on him, perched just under his shoulder, and he’d let you. “Snore, too.”

“Yeah, well,” you sat up, rolling your neck and wincing at the cracks that sounded from your joints as you stretched, “Sleep comes easy when I have my guard dog watching out for me.”

He scoffed, a small smile forming on his lips. “Don’ expect me to bark for ya, sweetheart.”

“All you do is bark.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to find the motivation to stand.

“S’not true,” there was a glint in his eye that you couldn’t read into fully, “Could bite ‘f’I wanted.”

You’d seen him land a shot without so much as glancing at his target. He was telling the truth.

You sighed, finally standing. You folded yourself over your front, touching your toes and trying to loosen the knots in your back. “Well, Coop,” you straightened, “Can I call you Coop?” You second guessed your courage, unsure of whether or not he’d take kindly to you shortening the name he’d only just entrusted you with.

“You my fuckin’ publicist?” He quirked a brow up at you, recalling the dozens of conversations he’d had that had begun just like this.

“I should be,” you straightened out, rolling your shoulders and shooting him a grin. “You could use one.”

He scowled at you. “Y’gotta question or what?”

“What now?” You shook out your limbs lazily.

“What now?” He echoed your words. He stayed on the floor, legs in front of him crossed at his ankles. “What’ya mean, darlin’?”

You didn’t really know what you meant; usually it was him calling the shots, but he seemed to be waiting for some kind of prompt. “You know, I mean…what should we…do…today?” You spoke slowly.

“Today?” He laughed, “Today…sweetheart, today’s come ‘n gone.”

You knit your brow, confused, and he pointed in the direction of the crack in the ceiling. It was still dark—dark again if you understood him correctly.

“You let me sleep all day?” The notion made you feel a bit frantic for some reason, having grown accustomed to sleeping for barely four hours at a time over the past few weeks. His constant need of movement made it hard to rest easy.

“You needed it,” he shrugged, picking at a spot on his duster.

And you had needed it, but the idea that he had let you doze for what was, as far as you could tell, close to a full twenty-four hours was more than a little puzzling; that he had let you sleep on him for the duration is what really threw you for a loop. Maybe the fact that you knew him by name made him nervous. Maybe it made him nervous enough to let you make decisions for the both of you now, for fear of the fallout.

Or, and much less likely, you thought, but much more appealing: maybe he just wanted to let you rest. Because you needed it. And he didn’t mind acting as a placeholder for a pillow.

The butterflies in your stomach made haste upwards in your body and settled in your heart.

“I did.” You deflated a little. Regardless of any reason behind why this had happened, you still felt guilty about making him lose the span of an entire day that could have been spent wandering in whatever direction called to him. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Ain’t got a reason to be.”

“I made you—”

“Didn’t make me do a goddamn thing, sweetheart.” He ground his teeth together, jaw swaying back and forth.

“We could be somewhere else by now.” You tried to argue, squaring your shoulders.

“Got nowhere to be.”

His words were spoken with a sense of finality, and you knew when to back down.

“I been thinkin’,” he piped up again when you got quiet. He finally made the move to stand; he winced as he bent his knees, his body having grown accustomed to staying in the same position for so long.

“About?” You watched him stretch.

“You still wanna wear that?” He waved his chin at your figure, forcing you to examine the tattered sleeves of your vault suit that were caked in dirt and debris—and more than likely a few pints of blood from various donors. “Just—seems like more of a hindrance than anything.”

“It’s fine.” You sneered at him, unsure of why you decided to get defensive. It was a creature comfort, of sorts, and while it certainly got the wrong kind of attention out in the open, getting rid of it felt like stripping yourself of the only identity you’d ever really had.

And he knew that, which is why he had voiced his thought. Not only was it something people would use—and they had used it—against you, but it was obstructing your ability to move on completely. He felt a sense of responsibility in ensuring that you managed to maintain a level of dignity in your soul searching.

“It’s hangin’ off o'you in shreds.” He continued, and you shifted on your feet. You couldn’t deny that any emotional connection to your outfit was outweighed by discomfort of the holes and tears it had collected. You bit your cheek, looking down at the floor and back at him in silent acknowledgement of his point. “Y’gotta change o’clothes in that bag?” He grinned, and you frowned.

“No...” There was no use now in coming up with any snark retorts. He licked his top teeth, staring at you “So, what?” You tried to find his point, “You want me to strip down and wander around naked?” If he asked you to, it was more than likely that you would obey without a second thought. By now, you knew better than to feel disgust for confessing things of this nature to yourself. But even so, you knew this admission was probably not a good reflection of the unrelentingly self-contained attitude you tried to show him.

Not to mention that nobody had ever so much as seen you without a shirt on, let alone the whole nine yards.

He bit back any response that might expose the interest he had in your suggestion, though he raked his gaze up and down over your body, smirking, before sucking his teeth and shaking his head. “We’re in a fuckin’ store.” His eyes finally met yours, and you stared back at him blankly. “Full ‘f clothes.” He continued, and you understood.

“There’s nothing left,” you spread your arms out for emphasis, gesturing to the run-down remains of gutted shops.

“Ooh, I bet ya there is.” He turned on his heels, taking long strides that had you jogging to catch up with him as he made his way down a corridor and towards a defunct escalator.

The sound of his boots against the tile floor echoed across the building, and even despite your long period of rest, you felt sluggish and unprotected; your back was an easy target, and with every click of his heel you found yourself turning your head, peering back into nothing, just in case.

“Nobody here,” Cooper noticed the constant swivel of your neck, “Relax.”

“How do you know?” You tried to cement your gaze forward.

“Would’a heard.”

“That’s—you can’t expect to hear people coming in this building, it’s huge.”

“Can hear you,” he gave you a pointed look, and you quieted yourself. “Here we go.” He nodded to a heap at the far end of the open space you’d found yourselves in. You squinted at the pile, and you could make out individual shapes and parts.

Bodies. Stacked atop one another as they wasted away into soggy organic matter. You began to make out whole people, some fresh enough that they could still leave an identifiable fingerprint.

“Cooper,” you froze, shoulders rigid and eyes wide in fear and disgust, “I don’t—”

“C’mon now, sweetheart,” he walked right up to the collection of putrefying bodies, bending down to peel a strand of flesh from a bloated arm that flopped out of the mass. “Clothes for you, meal for me.” He smirked, rolling the loose skin in his fingers before putting it in his mouth.

You sucked your lips into your teeth; the primal actions he often displayed made you feel pure in a way you wanted to rinse yourself of, shower in the wild side.

But only if he was the one scrubbing.

You shook your head. “This is the best you could do?”

“Tailor’s outta town,” he sneered, “Could’a just said thank you.”

“I—no, I respect the…attempt…” You dug your toe into the worn floor.

“But…” Cooper tilted his forehead at you, picking skin from his teeth with his tongue.

“But this is gross. Come on, even you know this is gross.”  You crossed your arms, peering up at him beneath knit brows.

“Use what’cha find.” He said simply, reiterating his mantra. You huffed, letting him have the final word.

You rounded the pile of bodies, looking out from behind Cooper as he sorted through the gore to find a suitable mark for his next move. He let out a triumphant noise when he turned over a man who was yet to begin the latter process of autolysis, providing the ability to smoothly undress him.

“This feels wrong.” You grit out when Cooper had removed the corpse’s overshirt. “This goes against—this is unethical.”

“You wanna change o’clothes or not?” Cooper rolled his eyes, and you piped down.

Despite your protests, spoken and cringed, you continued to watch as the body was stripped of its earthly possessions. Shirt, shoes—lucky bastard even had socks. Cooper tossed them all your way, throwing the clothes over his shoulder and at your chest. When he reached to undo the man’s belt, you felt your chest tighten; it wasn’t discomfort, per se, but it wasn’t anything pleasant, either. Something about seeing someone naked for the first time in this context made you feel melancholic. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, both in the sense that you felt that you were invading the privacy of the dead, but also in the more selfish sense that you felt it would be ruining something for you.

You turned around, trying to find something else to stare at instead of following the Ghoul’s hands as they roamed over the corpse for any hidden gems. He didn’t notice your movement, holding the jeans he’d unfastened from the dead man behind his shoulder to pass on to you.

“What the hell’re you doin’?” He turned to face the back of your head after a minute of shaking the denim at you. “Don’ tell me you decided t’get squeamish now, darlin’.”

You turned around to swipe the pants from his hands. “Not squeamish,” you started walking away, scouting out an area that would offer some seclusion, “You’re just being gross.”

“Me?” He feigned shock.

You stopped walking, turning to face him, rolling the skin of your cheeks between your teeth. “Come on…smells bad.”

Cooper waved you off, unsheathing a dagger and butchering a nearly unidentifiable limb off of a corpse. He flopped the meat over his shoulder, putting the dagger back into the sleeve it had been pulled from. After fiddling for a few more moments with the bodies, discovering two more vials of his precious chem in threadbare pockets, he held the carved appendage out to you; he swayed it as if it were part of his own arm, urging you forward. You scoffed, turning to walk away, staying several steps ahead of him.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

~~~

You had to hand it to him, Cooper knew how to scavenge; the clothes he’d taken off the body were only slightly too big on you. It was nothing rolling the cuffs up and tearing off some excess fabric couldn’t fix. You felt less constricted—free to move about without the limitations, both physical and mental, of your ruined vault suit.

“Couple holes.” You ducked out of the old storage room you’d found to change in and made your way back to the Ghoul. He’d started a campfire on the linoleum flooring, and you didn’t question how or why.

“You’ll live.” He tore chunks of flesh from the decomposing arm he’d procured. “Better than what ya had.” You watched as he rotated the meat clumsily over the fire with his hands, barely giving it enough time to rise back to living temperatures before taking it off the flame to gnaw from the bone.

“Yeah,” there was no point in arguing. He was right, and you felt silly for finding issues with what you supposed he might consider a gift.

You sat next to him in silence, knees grazing but not creating any real tension. Something about him was so much more reassuring now, a sort of consolation to being stuck in a world so far from what you’d imagined, than just the mysterious man with no nose or empathy that you’d pegged him for that first day.

Even if he was noseless, you tried not to laugh at your internal monologue, he definitely had more feelings than he let on—he cared and commiserated and let you sleep for way too long.

And you felt safe in a way you’d never felt safe before; far from any made-up threat you’d been taught to watch for in the vault, faced with genuine danger for the first time in your life, you still felt that, somehow, by his side, no harm would come to you.

It was more than a feeling. It was a fact.

You stared, unashamed, as he continued to take bites out of the disembodied arm. Cooper glanced at you from his peripheral and slowed his chewing, daring you to say something.

“What’s it taste like?” You finally gave in.

“We playin’ twenty questions again?” He shot back, swallowing what was in his mouth and throwing what was now mostly bone and muscle to the side.

“Is it like regular meat?” You pushed on, ignoring his quip.

“Y’ever had reindeer?” Cooper leaned back on his hands, and with his face only a few inches from yours, the position felt oddly intimate.

“No…” You tilted your head.

“Gamey,” he explained, “Like beef.” He smiled, “Course the flavor, it varies…person to person.”

“Funny.” You stuck your tongue between your teeth. You still thought it was gross, but you couldn’t deny that he made even cannibalism a light subject.

“Yeah? My turn now.” He sat up, “Why’d you get weird ‘round the bodies back there?”

“I was weird with the bodies?” You tried to play dumb.

“Got all prissy.”

“Did not.”

“Oh, yes y’did.”

“You were being disgusting…”

“When am I not?” He pointed out, grinning, and you conceded with a small smile and a nod of your head. “Cmon sweetheart…did it really bother you to see me doin all’at?” He seemed genuinely puzzled by you in this moment. You looked away, staring at your thumbs as you twiddled them in your lap. He took a chance, gloved fingers coming up to your chin and brushing your skin ever so gently. He refocused your gaze on him. “…Cause I won’t do it no more if it makes y’feel…weird.”

“No. it’s not…” You took a deep breath. Maybe it was stupid to get sensitive about it, maybe it was stupid to feel strange about the situation in the first place. You doubted that anybody in the Wasteland ever thought twice about seeing another person’s body—dead or alive. “I’ve just never seen anybody naked before.”

Cooper’s hand dropped from your face and into his lap. “Y’fuckin serious?” He grinned, “You’re kidding.” He was clearly on the verge of laughter, whether from amusement or shock, you couldn’t tell.

“No, I—look. I know it’s not a big deal, it’s probably not something people even think about up here. But it felt—something about seeing another person naked when they’re not…like, when they’re completely lifeless and unaware, it felt wrong to do that.” He didn’t respond, so you continued, “And honestly, it probably sounds insane, or, at the very least, maybe, a little selfish, but I felt like it was wrong because it would be stripping them of a choice, but it would also be stripping me of any choice. You know? Like, maybe it doesn’t matter to everybody else out here, but I’d like to…I mean, I want it to matter as much as it can, at this rate.” You sucked in a breath, deciding that you were done with your rant.

The Ghoul stared at you, his eyes wide but his bald brow knit in an obvious combination of delight and curiosity.

“You never seen a naked body before?” He tried to make his voice come out evenly, hiding his amusement.

“I…never like…” you failed to think of something that might lessen the blow of your revelation, “Not really, no.”

He let out a whistle, shaking his head. “Hell are y’all doin’ in the vaults if you’re not fuckin’?” It was rhetorical, you knew that, but you still felt defensive.

“There’s plenty to do.” The words came out flat, and you laughed nervously to lighten your tone.

He chuckled. “I bet.” He sucked his teeth, letting his eyes flicker over you again. There was a pregnant pause. Dead air hung between the two of you while you tried to ignore his gaze, opting to pick at a loose thread on your new shirt.

“Plenty to do…” You tried to steer the conversation somewhere—anywhere—that would help ease the tension.

“Yeah,” Cooper let his head loll back, “Let’s hear it, then.”

You scooted back on your hands to give yourself the room to properly face him, situating yourself a foot away to allow for the physical space to think.

“Movies to watch and…chores to do…” You tried to think of anything worthwhile you’d done growing up in the vaults but found yourself coming up dry. “Sometimes there were, you know…events.”

“’N you never found yourself at one o’those events with some arm candy?” He was taunting you, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that he was getting a sort of sadistic thrill out of seeing you squirm under his playful interrogation.

“Slim pickings.” You huffed, staring into the fire.

“I’ll be,” he smirked, “For someone so sure of herself, you ain’t seen nothin’, have ya?” He was thinking out loud, analyzing you to your face.

You felt the need to correct him, both out of self-preservation, but also because, and this was a bigger reason than you cared to own up to, you wanted him to know that you weren’t scared of anything—especially not the thing he was implying.

Maybe you were naïve, but you weren’t stupid.

“Don’t really need another person to have a good time.” You made a point to catch his line of sight, eyes holding his as you tilted your head against your shoulder.

The Ghoul whistled, long and low. “Well, now. Talk about self-sufficient.”

You felt heat rise in your face, dappling your neck with a rosy veil. “I’m not stupid, Cooper. I know what you’re talking about.”

“What am I talkin’ ‘bout, darlin’?” He goaded, fingers toying with a button beneath his collar.

“Just cause I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’m some sort of—I dunno, some sort of…poor shrinking violet who can’t figure it out,” your heart was in your throat now, afraid to take the conversation too far but so desperate to get a reaction out of him. “I know how to…to, you know…” You let your voice fade, chickening out when he failed to change his facial expression.

There was another long stretch of silence. Cooper let his head fall forward, arms coming to rest, folded, over his stomach, as he anticipated the end of your sentence. When you didn’t come out with it, he prodded you verbally.

“Know how’ta what?” He grinned, yellow teeth on display and tongue darting between them in a movement you were sure he wasn’t even conscious of. He leaned forward further, moving his face towards you without actually budging an inch from his spot on the floor. “You don’t know how to deal with death, how t’use a gun—y’barely even know when you’re too tired to stand…” His tongue pushed through the crack in his top and bottom rows of teeth, wetting his lips. “But ya expect me t’believe that y’know how to make yourself cum?” He let his tongue rest on his bottom lip before closing his mouth, sneering mischievously. There was a bright speck of something in his eyes that seemed to be fighting with the more devious glint brewing in him, and paired with his brazen statement, it tugged at your core.

And despite it all, you felt completely at ease; the sudden suspense and the violent thrum of your heartbeat aside, you were almost entirely calm. You knew you were safe, that the solace he cloaked you with spanned to even the most random and uncertain situations or conversations.

So you continued on.

“Took some trial and error,” you felt nervous laughter bubble up from your throat, “But I got the hang of it.” You smiled, before quirking your brow and addressing yourself more so than him, “I think.”

“You think…” He repeated, eyes narrowing as his gaze turned inquisitive.

“Just, you know…” You squirmed under his gaze now, “Not really a how-to manual on touching yourself…”

He exhaled, laughing through the hole where his nose should’ve been. “Maybe not in the vaults.” He dug in his pockets, unsure if the lightheadedness he was feeling should be blamed on a lack of chem in his system or on the topic of conversation. He took a puff before settling again. “Plenty o’guidance up here.”

“You mean, like…porn?” You smiled, shooting him a knowing look.

“At one point. Not anymore,” he sagged a little, “Lucky if ya find a fuckin’ playboy mag up out here.”

“You seem disappointed by that,” you prodded, teasing.

“That’s cause I am,” he shot back, stretching his shoulders.

“Well, all I’m saying is I know what I’m doing.” You rested your back against the wall, hands clasped in your lap.

“And I’m sayin’ that I sincerely doubt it.” He put the inhaler back into his pocket, deciding it was definitely the conversation that was to blame for the way his head swam.

You let his words hang between the two of you momentarily. Then, on a whim, figuring that you’d had plenty of chances before, and being unwilling to let another one slip away: “I could show you.” You didn’t look up at him, but he stiffened, his eyes unwittingly falling to stare at your hands. “How I…how I touch, I mean.”

You braced yourself for rejection, looking up sheepishly and letting your hands fall to your sides. He was already looking back at you, lips parted and eyes half-lidded—he could say no, and he thought about it for a moment. But, Christ, it had been a long time. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t say no.

Not to you. Not when it came to something like this, a vision, a woman untouched by the grit and grime of the surface, offering up something that now seemed so holy.

He sucked in a breath; he had never been a church goer. He thought maybe now was a good time to make up for all the sins he’d committed—worship at the shrine of you, talk you through your own wrongs and absolve himself of the thoughts he’d been having since he’d first encountered you all those weeks ago.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, sweetheart…go on ahead…”

You exhaled shakily, not even realizing that you’d been holding in a breath. You scrambled to lose the jeans he’d gifted you, eager to expose yourself, immensely grateful for the chance that had dropped in your lap.

“Hold’t,” his voice cut through your motions, and you froze. You’d gone too far, surely. He recognized the error he had made by giving you the go ahead and was now taking it all back. “Y’gonna listen when I say you’re doin’ it wrong?” He sucked on his lips.

“I won’t—I don’t do it wrong.” There was no bite to your argument.

“I asked ya’a question,” he continued, “Y’gonna listen t’me? Gonna fix your mistakes ‘f’I tell ya to?” He bent one knee, resting his hand limply between his legs. “Do what I fuckin’ say to do?”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to hide the impact his words had on you. “Yeah,” you nodded, “Yeah, Coop. I will.”

You thought maybe you heard him growl, but any noise coming from him was muddled by the sound of your zipper finally coming undone.

“Good,” he nodded, “Knew you could be a good girl. Just need’a blow off some steam, huh?”

This time, you couldn’t avoid the soft moan that slipped past your lips. Cooper let out an amused exhale in response, eyes trained on your hips as you wiggled your way out of the pants.  

“Yeah, you like this,” he got comfortable, resting one arm behind his head, only nearly knocking his hat off. “Like gettin’ bossed around more than you let on, darlin’.”

“Shut up,” you tried to keep it together, kicking the jeans off your legs and tossing them to the side. But your words were unconvincing, especially with the way you barely smiled, breath hitching already and eyes wild and blown out. You did like it—but only because he was doing it.

He tsked at your response. “Not very nice. Big talk from someone with no panties on.”

In such a short time span, you’d already forgotten that you’d ridded yourself of your underwear. It was gross, and you’d had no change, and it wasn’t as if you’d be thrilled to peel the undergarments off a corpse. You figured commando was the most obvious way to go.

“That a bad thing?” You goaded him, running a palm down your naked thigh and seeing how long it would take to break his collected demeanor.

“Never said that,” he drawled, following your hand on its path down your leg. “Y’gonna keep puttin’ on a li’l show f’me, or ya gonna do what’cha promised?” He licked his lips.

“You don’t like a little showmanship?” You squeezed your thighs together, not missing how his chest rose.

“With my killin’,” he found your eyes, “Not with my pussy.”

If this was a competition to see who could keep it together the longest, you’d be losing by a landslide.

“Spread those legs f’me, baby.”

And with all the pet names he’d given you in your time with him, something as simple as the word baby falling from his lips and landing on your skin had you flooded with arousal.

You did what you were told, straightening your legs and feeling the tile of the floor cling to your skin as you opened them. The Ghoul’s gaze flickered between your face and your core, both positioned perfectly towards him.

“C’mon,” he nodded, “Show me how good ya make yourself feel.”

You knew what he wanted to see. Even after his claims of disliking the display you were putting on, you could tell that he was just being impatient for show. You wanted to draw this out, watch him come undone in sync with you despite the physical distance.

You let your hand roam over the tops of your thighs, feather soft touches making goosebumps erupt on your skin in anticipation for what was to come.

“How y’feel?” He disrupted the otherwise silent escapade you were undertaking.

 “Soft…” you mumbled, “Warm.” You didn’t know if he was asking about your emotions or for the physical description of what your skin felt like on your fingers, but your mind was blank with adrenaline, so you subconsciously chose to focus on the latter.

He took a deep breath, afraid that if he were to blink, he would miss something. “How ‘bout you drop that hand a li’l lower.”

You sighed as you followed his instruction. The pads of your fingers brushed your clit, and you squeaked out a moan.

How long had it been since you’d gotten any time to enjoy yourself? Certainly longer than the month or so you'd been on the surface; with Cooper, you never had the solitude or time to let yourself unwind, and even before joining him, you were more focused on surviving than you were on unwinding. 

You let your fingers circle your clit, building the pressure with every swipe. The friction made you buck your hips gently, sweat-slick skin sliding on the floor. You could feel the way your cunt began to drip, and you spread your legs wider, wanting to give him a proper view. You looked up at him, your face painted with an underlying uncertainty behind the overarching pleasure.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he reassured you, briefly biting down on his tongue when he saw the way your slit glistened, “Show me.”

You relaxed into your own body; fingers dropping lower to tease your entrance were met with a backing score of delicious wet sounds as you let the pads graze beyond your folds and kiss at your hole. You moved your hand at an angle to allow one finger to push into your cunt down to the first knuckle, but Cooper tsked at you.

“Not yet,” his breath was already becoming labored, “Show that pretty pearl a li’l more love first.”

The timbre of his voice made you shiver despite the heat that engulfed your skin. You nodded, staring up at him for guidance, just as you always did—though this circumstance was far different.

Your fingers came back up to toy with your clit, and you let out a breathy sound. He had been right to tell you to slow down, to continue to enjoy the friction instead of diving straight into the penetration; you felt light and malleable, like your body was taking a natural route towards the apex of pleasure without needing the frantic thrust of your finger.

Another moan slipped past your lips, and the Ghoul groaned in front of you, eyes glued to your center as you massaged gentle shapes onto your clit.

“Knew ya didn’t know what y’were doin’,” he chastised softly, voice uncharacteristically tender given the state of events unfolding. “Impatient thing like you just needs some instruction. S’at right, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, bending a knee, “Needed someone to tell ya how t’do it so it feels real good?”

You bucked against your hand, in the midst of discovering something new about yourself; maybe you did need it—maybe you liked it. It could have been the simple fact that it was him taunting you, telling you what you wanted and how you wanted it, but his words had you keening, and you let go of any remaining inhibition.

“Yeah,” you mewled, “Yes…” Your movements were getting sloppy, fingers frantic against your swelling bud. “Like—like it like this.”

He growled, pushing air through gritted teeth that formed a menacing smile meant only for you. “Slow down there,” he wanted to grab your wrist, to replace your hand with his own, but something about the chaste, urgent nature of how you touched yourself made him all the more eager to watch how your own movements played out. “Don’ gotta rush it, baby.”

You knew you'd been right—he did like a little showmanship.

“But—” You wanted to argue; it felt good, and the thought of stopping made you squirm harder. But with his eyes on you the way they were, and his hat tipping forward to emphasize his demand, you let the response die in your throat, slowing your fingers.

“Atta girl,” he praised, and your smile was paired with a small whine. “You like the way I’m talkin’?” He was playing with you, flirting while making sure the waters were still welcoming.

“I do,” you responded with a whimper, thrilled by the noises you made, having only ever touched yourself in silence for fear of getting caught.

“Good. Cause I’m’a keep goin’,” he leaned back once more, shifting slightly to ease the tightness that had sprung up in his trousers. “Give that pussy what she needs—slow, now.”

You pressed a finger into your hole, watching it soak in the wet that dripped from you. You wanted to go faster, to push it in completely and fuck yourself on it, but you refrained from the urge to do so and went leisurely as instructed.

“Fuck,” you breathed when the webs of your fingers stretched over your lips, as deep as you could get inside yourself. “Been a—it’s been a minute since I’ve done this.”

“Easy, now—s’why I’m goin’ slow.” He spoke as if he was the one touching you, as if his finger was buried within you in place of your own.

“Can I…” You fidgeted around your hand, “What next.”

“So fuckin’ eager t’please,” he chuckled, “Where was’s obedience out there, huh?”

“Had to make you work for it,” you smiled, your words carrying no malice as your hand became more saturated with your juices.

“Curl’at finger up,” he ignored your retort with a blunt demand, “Like yer callin’ me over.”

You did, and the spot your finger grazed made your limbs buzz and your core tighten. Your face must’ve changed to display your sudden pleasure, because Cooper let out a proud grunt.

“Didn’know’at was there, did’ya?”

“No…” You didn’t bother to explore the shameful feeling that nipped at your heels for being so unfamiliar with your own body after talking such a big game, too focused on exploring the tantalizing feeling that traveled through you when you nudged at the spot again. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“I know,” he looked smug, clearly impressed with himself for teaching you something new about your own body. “Add another.”

“Another finger?” Your skin flushed.

“Go on.”

“I—I’ve only ever done one.” You explained, more embarrassed about this fact than you had been to strip and fuck yourself in front of him.

 “Y’can do it,” he shot you a jagged grin, “Would I ever lead y'astray?”

You swallowed your reminder to him that he used you as a lure in any situation he could get away with. Your head drooped, and you watched as you pulled your hand back enough to press a second finger to the one that had been nestled inside of you. You prodded your entrance, sinking them in slowly as you had with the first one. You hissed, unfamiliar pressure filling your abdomen, though not in an unwelcome capacity; it was a warm tension, weighty and grounding, and you quickly found pleasure in the new sensation.

The way you stared down at yourself, legs spread and lips parted, nearly made him snap; you were so curious, so hungry for instructions to follow—so deeply trusting of him. Cooper’s mouth went dry, and his hand fell to his crotch, palming at the growing tent there.

“Look’t that,” he licked his lips, “Y’feel the stretch, sweetheart? Feel nice?”

“Mm,” you whimpered out an answer, remaining focused on the way your hand met your cunt, swallowed to the last knuckle and still wanting more.

“Curl ‘em again f’me,” he muttered, squeezing his cock through the fabric of his pants.

You did, throwing your head back and hitting that same spot he’d directed you to earlier. The sound you made was desperate and primal, coming out husky from deep in your chest.

“God!” You felt like crying happy tears. Something built inside you that you couldn’t stop, and it felt good—it felt right.

“He can’t help ya now, darlin’,” the Ghoul’s mouth hung open, hypnotized by the urgency in your sounds and the way your body contorted as you tried to keep up with your own pleasure. “Now pull ‘em out ‘n’do it all again. Fast, now—you got it.”

Hurriedly, you pulled your fingers back, then pushed them back in with equal haste, bending them upwards and grazing the delicious spot you’d been missing out on for god only knows how long. You did it again, and again; your repeated movements helped you chase the high you were looking for, hurtling you towards the finish line, and you wanted him to see it as badly as you wanted to feel it.

“Look’t me,” his voice was gruffer now, a dominant edge finding its way in by way of his own lust. “Lemme see y’feel good, sweetheart.”

“C—ooper,” his words hit you exactly where you needed them, finding his gaze with your own and falling apart completely. You pulsed around your fingers, gluey and hot, your skin pricked with gooseflesh despite the humidity and the rush of warmth you felt all over. You moaned, loud and long, but your ears buzzed and your eyes screwed shut so that not even your own sounds could distract from the intensity of the orgasm that washed over you.

When you opened your eyes, squinting in the light of the fire while you took heaving breaths, you expected a blanket of embarrassment to wash over you, some type of mortification for what you’d just done—exposed to another person for the first time, allowing him a view you’d rarely ever even given yourself.

But when you peeked up at him through heavy eyelids, gulping down air, he looked dazed, his mouth agape and eyes wide. And suddenly you felt pride more than anything—you’d managed to leave the most feared man for miles at a total loss.

His hand was still on his crotch, raking his eyes over you, your form illuminated by the campfire. His throat felt dry, and he coughed a few times, hunching over to collect himself before he made eye contact with you again.

“Goddamn,” he gasped, swallowing his coughing fit, “Fast learner.”

“Good teacher,” you grinned, toeing at the discarded jeans that had been left in a heap at your feet.

“Pretty when you cum,” he rolled his shoulders back, still foggy with arousal after seeing you whine and writhe for him.

That made you blush, not out of embarrassment, but because it was the first real compliment he’d paid you. “Never done it like that before.”

“Never had a ghoul teach ya how t’do it right.” He joked, and you smiled at the way he returned so quickly to his usual snark.

“Never cum that hard, that fast.” You admitted, shooting him a glance before leaning forward to grab the wrinkled denim off the floor.

“Had me fooled,” he took out his inhaler, “Needy fuckin’ thing.” That sent a buzz through your body, and you pressed your thighs together to alleviate the ache in your cunt.

“You liked it.” You quirked a brow, dropping your gaze to your legs and pulling the oversized pants back on.

“Never said I didn’t,” he pointed out, “Almost made me cum my pants like some fuckin’ schoolboy.”

“Never done that either,” you yawned, “Made someone else cum.”

“Don’t think it’d be a hard lesson for y’t’learn,” he smirked, “Natural’at you are.”

“It’ll have to wait,” you didn’t know why you assumed it would happen at all, subconsciously hoping that this wouldn’t be forgotten in a day’s time, “Tired.”

“Course y’are,” he offered no explanation, shifting in his spot. He raised an arm and beckoned to you, encouraging you to come closer.

You did, no stranger to doing what he told you to do, and found yourself curled against his side. He smelled like smoke and sex—musky and dewy in a way that made you feel at home.

“I got first watch, y’fuckin—” he cut is taunting short when he looked down at you, seeing you fast asleep.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

[pedgito]

𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄

summary | you're his best-friend's daughter and he's at a party he can't be bothered to care about, luckily you're the one thing that catches his attention. [5k]

pairing | lucien flores x fem!reader (best-friend's daughter!reader and/or alternatively, dad's best friend!lucien)

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, age gap (not specified, but it's girthy) smoking, semi-public sex, daddy kink, f!oral, unprotected piv, light choking, mentions of reader having hair that can be grabbed (to some degree), lucien is a major dilf and divorced, if i missed anything lmk!

author’s note | so, we know next to nothing about lucien but i have been sitting with this idea in my head and i wrote it. sue me. characterization could be completely off by the time the movie comes out but let's just enjoy the pwp and be hornknee, xoxo. also i hc that lucien does use some spanish. it's very minimal but it's there!

Lucien couldn’t give anyone a valid reason why he was here. Unwelcome and well, uninvited. At least, by the people who owned the house—his ex-wife and her new husband who referred to him as a leech who liked to mooch off the enjoyment of others because really, who was he to turn down an invite? He had a few close mutual friends who insisted that he be there, demanded it, even. He was personable enough, he could charm anyone, the other party-goers and it wouldn’t disrupt a damn thing.

Until he spots you.

He knows you from a distance—polite looks, short greeting and small talk, it never stretches beyond that. Maybe a few one off dinners here and there. You were his friend's daughter—best friend, but that didn’t matter.

And you know him well enough—through stories from your dad and pictures sent while he was away on vacation or work. He had a certain…aura to him that felt charged, overwhelming, and it provoked you to keep a distance when he was around. A charming smile and a wink in your direction never fails to make you weak in the knees and you know there’s no meaning behind, but it never fails to make you throb, something deep and primal in your gut.

You were half his age and clueless—he’s well-beyond your years, more experienced. In all aspects of life, but he can’t be that oblivious to the effect he has on you. Not within the handful of years he’s gotten to know you.

It’s the first time he’s seen you since you graduated college, a bright smile on your face as you sip on the flute of champagne in your hand, conversing lightly as he pops a cheese cube into his mouth, taking the freshly opened beer from your father and turning in the direction of the masses, sipping greedily as he leaned against the counter.

And given you’re a few glasses in, you feel a gentle buzz in your head that has you smiling when you set eyes on him. 

Lucien was fine to remain unassuming all night, but the moment your eyes track him he’s perking up. Subtly, but you arms are outstretched as you approach him and he pulls you in like it was a regular greeting,

It wasn’t. Hardly at all.

Rough palms over warm skin, large and dexterous fingers pressing into your shoulder blades as you bury your face into his chest, the cold press of a chain against your temple. He says your name softly, a kind greeting as you smile into his chest and whisper his name in return.

When you pull back, he’s flashing a quick wink. Something he has done a million times before, but it feels electric, and maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you feel his fingers lingering against your skin before your father is cutting in—

“Told you he’d show up.” He speaks indifferently, outing your obvious want and hopefulness for him to show up—which yeah, you perked up at the mention of it being a possibility. But, you didn’t expect your father to throw it back in your face. You grumble something low and Lucien can’t help but smile, cheek dimpling on one side like it always did—a sign of a true and genuine smile.

“Missin’ me, are you?” Lucien teases, watching as you crossed your arms over your chest in frustration, ignoring his question. “That’s…sweet.”

Your eyes roll slightly, watching as your father melted away easily into the crowd, knowing he’d disturbed the peace and left you to clean up the mess. Not that you minded, but it didn’t help that Lucien had your body riddled with nerves, noticing the way he clocked every single movement—even the most subtle.

You kept rubbing at a spot behind your ear, uncomfortable with the crowd as you shifted from foot to foot and Lucien took note, tapping your elbow as he nodded toward the back door.

And you nearly talk yourself out of it, but he’s flashing that sweet smile your way and it’s hypnotic, feet moving before you can deny him the opportunity.

Luckily, the backyard was empty and that provided some peace. And privacy, at the very least. 

-

You follow Lucien silently, feet shifting against the gravel as you follow him around to the side of the house, noting as he looks around curiously—he’s never been here either, clearly. He chews at his lip and nods again before finding a quiet spot, leaning against the side of the house, solid cement pressing into his back as he reaches into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“So, college?” He asks idly, struggling slightly as he opens the fresh pack. Lucien knew enough about you, through small talk with you and your father and he seemed genuinely interested, like he wanted you to elaborate, so you did.

“Just graduated,” You tell him honestly, fiddling with a thin, decorative bow on your sleeve, complimenting the intricate flowery design of your dress, flowy and trimmed high at your thigh, a muted yellow that he knows is your favorite color, “how’s business—you know, with my dad and everything?”

Which you couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about, but Lucien appreciates the gestures and chuckles, cigarette slipping between his lips as flicks open the lighter and burns the end of the cigarette until it flashes a deep amber before stowing away the pack and lighter into his pocket. 

“Good,” He says gruffly through a deep inhale, exhaling jaggedly as he offers you the cigarette hesitantly, eyebrow raised in question, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your dad.”

You shoot him a look of annoyance, nose scrunching up as you pluck the cigarette from his fingers. You’ve never smoked a day in your life, but he didn’t need to know that.

He did. But, it doesn’t stop him from letting you take a puff, struggling to hide the grimace as you pass it back.

“I’m not seventeen anymore,” You retort flippantly, “It’s been, like, eight years. You can drop that already.”

Lucien huffs out a short breath through his nose as his eyes track the ground, puffing at the cigarette robotically, moving through the motions as he flicks the ash away.

You notice his change in demeanor, subtle but there.

“What?” You ask curiously, a tinge of amusement in your tone as you tilt your head to meet his eyes, hands resting loosely against your hips as you leaned against an opposing half-wall, ass hitting the edge as you backed into it. “If you have something to say just say it. You never have a problem making fun of me any other time.”

“Not makin’ fun,” He responds calmly, shaking his head—he puffs a few more times before the cigarette sits lonely between his index and middle at his side, “I know you’re not a kid anymore, that’s pretty damn obvious.”

Your chest rattles with a gentle laugh, feeling slightly relaxed now that he didn’t throw another easy jab your way, but you feel the heated implication behind his tone, the way his eyes drag along your body but he doesn’t act—he wouldn’t, right?

He seems fearful, hesitant. So, you play into it.

“What gave it away?” You tease. “I mean, I would flash off my degree but I don’t have that with me.”

Your arms cross over your chest again, tighter this time as your breasts shift obviously, nearly spilling out of the top of your dress and Lucien swallows with irritation, throat burning with the sting of nicotine but also a deep, deep want for…something. 

He thinks, has a line locked and loaded in his head but he decides against it, laughing at the absurdity and knowing you would laugh about it too. But, the quiet chuckle and lack of response has you pressing him. You take a few steps forward, still a comfortable distance but he follows it, eyes tracking and following the line of your body as you question him.

“What?” You ask, “What's so funny?”

Lucien wants to bite his tongue, but he can’t resist.

“Just, uh—“ He shakes his head abashedly, a grin breaking out on his face, “was gonna suggest you flash somethin’ else but that’s—it’s stupid. Just a joke, that’s—“

And you hate how he’s looking at you now.

It’s desire—insatiable and needy and he blindly stubs out the cigarette into the wall behind him before he’s discarding it on the ground.

Fuck it, you’ll bite.

“Tell me,” You urge, “tell me what you wanna see.”

He releases a shaky breath, a small cloud of smoke passing his lips as he turns his head away and you take the chance to invade his space completely, fingers running along the outside of his now empty hand, guiding it along your hip slowly—he follows the movement intently as you speak, “I’ll listen, I swear.”

His hand squeezes gently at your hip, the gradual guide toward your breasts nearly killing him before he’s finally speaking, “Your tits,” He breathes, thumb brushing over a clothed nipple, hardened under the fabric and he can feel it, knowing it’s the only layer that’s keeping him from a bare touch of your skin, “show me.”

And it should worry you that you’re only a few feet from the back door, but you weren’t worried—these types of people, they never lingered outside. They chain smoked and filled the house with a haze, the house littered with empty cans of booze and idle chit chat. The low hum was a comforting ambience, a reminder that you had each other to yourself. 

You anticipated the feeling of being riddled with nerves, but his words spark a surge of pride through you, seeing how he gives into your plea to command—you want him to want it too, to demand it. You bite your bottom lip through a smile that has him cracking one similar, looking around briefly before you’re pulling the straps of your dress down in unison, his fingers cautiously catching the falling fabric as he helps keep your dress just under the valley of your breasts, allow the wide expanse of his hands to cup the soft tissue, your fingers curling around his own as he squeezes and admires in awe, bottom lip parted and wet from his tongue peeking out to soothe his chapped skin. 

“Fuck, they’re—“

You cut him off with a snarky comment, “Just like you imagined?” You smirk subtly, catching the guilty look he flashes at you, eyes admiring as he flicks a thumb over the nipple of your left breast, the other one squeezed gently in his hand. Your pussy throbs between your thighs and it makes your heart swell, the soft groan he releases as he watches the skin pebble and goosebump under his touch. “It’s okay, I know you’ve thought about it.”

It’s not right. It never was. But, you’ve caught him red-handed. He nods slightly, a quick jerk of his head that you would miss if you weren’t locked on his face, mouth falling open in a soft sigh as his thumb and index finger pull and twist at your nipple, experimenting with your reaction. “Better than I imagined, if that’s possible.” He admits wholeheartedly, before his hands are leaving your breasts and curling around the back of your thighs, carrying you the short distance to the perch on the half-wall, resting your ass against the cold slab of concrete before his mouth is assailing your breasts without warning, fingers fisting into his beautiful and messy coiffed curls, full of product and smelling faintly of citrus—he groans, his wide tongue flattening over the skin before he’s sucking a pert nipple into his mouth.

You gasp sharply, palm slapping into the concrete at the sudden shot of pleasure it strikes to you core, knowing you were soaking through your panties with every passing second and his free hand was only a few inches away, lingering against your thigh as he squeezes, blunt nails digging into the skin as you mumbled mindlessly. 

“Please,” You whine softly, “please—“

You’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Lucien feels the charge, the want you crave with his demanding nature and he pulls away briefly, hands leaving the other parts of your body to attach to your face, cradling your head momentarily as he examines your face, the slow drag of your teeth over your bottom lip as you dare to keep the eye contact, a glint of feral desire in your eye.

“Have you ever had your pussy eaten before?” Lucien asks boldly, point-blank as you shake your head. “Good.”

He backs away briefly, allowing you to rush to remove your panties, no words to be spoken to tell you to do so—you were more than eager, ready to toss them to the ground before he’s stuffing them in the loose pocket of his silk button up.

And really, you could find a million reasons to complain right now. Knowing there was a house full of people just inside, that you were ruining your dress with the patch of dirt against the edge of your ass or how it was going to get under your fingernails as your hands squeezed into the soil as he settled between your legs, crouching until his face is right in line with your pussy, bare and glistening in his face and he swears he’s never seen anything more mesmerizing—says it too. 

It has your stomach doing flips, his fist bunching into the fabric of your dress as he pushes it up and away, eyes slanting up to look at your as he nudges your thighs apart, resting one gently over his shoulder for support as he gives a teasing, testing lick between your lips.

You sigh shakily, leaning back on your palms but keep your chin against your chest, watching as Lucien kept his eyes locked on you while his tongue traced along your seam, sucking testingly at your clit and that draws a ragged gasp out, which is rewarded with a big grin and a small chuckle, “Oh fuck,” You say on a punched-out breath, “fuck that’s so—“

“Language, nena,” Lucien chastises and you almost lose your grip on reality, reeling at how easily he can assert himself, “don’t need your daddy hearing all that, right?”

Not the fucking time, you think. A hand fists into his hair, pulling roughly as he ups the pace, tongue lapping you up greedily, swirling around your quickly swelling clit with a precision that takes years of practice to master—and you’re sure he’s had plenty, but then he’s piping up again and it has your breath catch in your throat.

“Not—not the time,” You gasp, “fuck—Luc, oh my god—“

He pulls back suddenly, chin gripped between his fingers as he speaks, smothering and far too close than he needs.

“Unless you need me to play daddy for you,” He challenges, “keep that dirty mouth in check, amorcito.”

You whine slightly, both from the tinge of pain and the implication of him labeling himself like that. So boldly and unashamed. You can’t help but give him what he craves.

You nod quickly, “O-okay,” You respond softly, earning a gentle tug of warning as he waits, “Yeah—yes, daddy.”

Lucien grins devilishly, a quick decent as he resumes his previous actions with no blip, mouth attaching to your pussy with ease and falling back easily into the motion, devouring you with a fervor that consumes you, arms nearly collapsing out underneath you as he dares to slip a finger in with his greedy tongue, biting your lip until you taste that faintness of copper, desperate to muffle the sounds as he sucks at your clit until you’re begging to come, words teetering on your tongue as you feel a swell of boldness fill your chest, guiding his face against your pussy in a way that Lucien can only describes as needy, giving you some credit as you give into your own pleasure so easily, unashamed at how badly you want to come—even without asking. 

“Hu—oh, don’t—don’t stop—I’m gonna cum.” You plead, soft but desperate, his tongue swirling rapid, messy circles against your clit that forces your orgasm to creep up on you, body buzzing with electricity as it builds and explodes, releasing a tired sigh as you collapse onto your back, “—oh my god.”

Lucien rises with a slight grimace, aging knees not too appreciative of his current position, his hands engulfing your forearms as he pulls you sturdily upright. And you could stop here, go back inside, pretend nothing happened, and see each other a few years from now.

But, neither of you want that. 

Lucien cradles your face once more, slow creeping movements as his fingers curl behind your ears and cradle your head gently, eyes shifting between your wide eyes and slightly parted lips, swollen from being assaulted by your own teeth, biting and chewing away nervously. He soothes the skin with a touch, the pad of his thumb swiping over it gently before he’s following up with his lips, kissing you gently. Silently.

He didn’t ask and you didn’t want him to.

“What do you say, nena?” He asks teasingly, “Want me to fuck you?”

“Right here?” You whisper against his lips, sounding scandalized despite what’s already progressed within the last several minutes.

Lucien soothes your worries with another kiss, deep and desperate as he tongue licks into your mouth.

“Let me take care of you,” He pleads softly, feeling the way your fingers grip into the fabric at his shoulders, “fuck, you’re so tense, nena.”

You breath softly, a small exhale that Lucien clocks and soothes, “Let daddy take care of you,” He teases sweetly, hearing the sharp intake of breath you take as his nose nudges at the sensitive spot behind your ear, his teeth following the touch and biting gently, “go on, ask for it.”

You nod lazily, moaning softly as he mouths at your neck. “Do it,” You command gingerly, and Lucien’s hands squeeze at your skin, the fingers on one hand gripping tightly at your shoulder—“daddy, please?”

He runs the back of his fingers down your chest, through the valley of your breasts and your thumb rubs at the small tattoo etched in the space between this thumb and index finger. It’s always been so prevalent, eyes spotting it whenever he scratched at his face or wiped at his mouth during one of the rare dinners you had with him and your father. 

You hated how easy it was for you to notice and memorize the small things about him, stuff that shouldn’t mean anything but ended up meaning entirely too much—the faint trail of freckles that cover his chest, muffled by his tan skin but at this proximity, under the small spattering of chest hair, under the dangling of a few gold chains, you can spot them.

Allowing your movement to mimic his as your finger hooks into the material of his shirt, just over the highest, fastened button and he stops you, eyebrows furrowing. Thick fingers wrapping around your palm guide you down, your own fingers flexing against his stomach and Lucien wants to jump at the touch, the boldness you take on now as you pull him in, continuing your descent as you palm him impatient over his jeans, the uncomfortable stretch of the fabric apparent with the press of weight against your hand.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask, voice a soft whisper–fearful someone may hear you.

Lucien shakes his head and you have the nerve to be frustrated, pulling your hand away hesitantly but his reflexes are too quick, fingers encircling your wrist as he pulls you into him, chest pressing into his, looking down at him slightly with your unfair height advantage.

“If you’re good, maybe,” He explains, “Can you be a good girl and listen, nena?”

You nod eagerly, using his shoulders for support as he guides you off the ledge before quickly spinning you until your stomach presses against the cold wall, his hands working to shift your dress up your hips, the entirety material bunched around your stomach and leaving you nearly naked, his body the only cover to someone who wanted to peek around the corner and catch an eyeful, his belt buckle jingling loudly behind you.

You almost turn—almost, but his hands are faster than you, wrapping gently around your neck, traveling up until he can cup your chin back and tilt your head back, looking up at him from an angle that stretches you uncomfortably, but the hot press of his cock against your ass soothes any discomfort, eyes squeezing shut as he rubs his middle finger over your clit testingly, gaging your sensitivity.

And clearly over-sensitive still, he chuckles. 

“You come for me again and you can have whatever you want,” Lucien barters with you, canting his hips slightly to guide through your wetness from behind briefly, his hand hooking around the back of your thigh to lift it up, allowing for more room and leaving you, essentially, putty in his grip—pliable and moving where he guided you, “you want it inside of you, nena? Ask for it.”

“Luce, please,” You whine softly, a gentle squeeze at your throat as you open your eyes, slightly bleary from how tight you had them closed and he’s looking at you pointedly—right. He watches you take a short, shaky breath, “fuck—daddy, please?”

Lucien bucks his hips gradually, heart racing from the teasing glide of his cock through your folds, he could chastise you for speaking so crudely but the sweetness in your voice is enough to leave him satisfied, dropping your leg suddenly as he adjusts himself, slightly, pressing into you slowly, hand gripping his shaft as you gasped, the stretch of his thick cock more than you were used to and he sees it, feels it in the way you squeeze around him.

“De mierda,” He curses quietly, “used to fucking college boys, yeah?”

“Huh—a—a couple,” You admit, gritting your teeth slightly as he jerks his hips slightly, seating himself inside of you fully then, a collective groan leaving your lips, “but you’re so—”

Lucien chuckles darkly, burying his face into your neck, the burn of the stretch from the angle he has your head becoming more prevalent, but the way he mouths at your skin makes it easier to ignore, moving his hips slowly to allow to adjust, the soft jingle of his belt against the starchy denim in the back of your mind, “So what, nena?”

As if to prove a point, he pulls back suddenly, slamming back inside of you with force, ripping a strangled groan groan from your throat that he stifles with his palm, eyes connecting with yours in a warning, forehead pressing against the underside of his chin from the angle he has you. His hand grabs greedily at your backside, fingers digging into your cheek and guiding you back pointedly.

“B—big,” You answer brokenly, “so fucking big, daddy.”

You can feel the imprint of his smirk into your skin as he squeezes at your flesh, moaning freely into the guise of his hand, muffling your sounds as he fucks into you from behind, watching as you fail to keep your eyes open, falling deeper into your own mind as he reaches blindly for your arms, allowing him to lock them behind your back with his large hands encircling them easily.

“Look at me,” He breathes gruffly, the deep creases in his forehead showing with how hard he’s trying to hold himself together, his soft brown eyes darkened to near black as he admires you openly, mouth parted slightly, “baby, look at me.”

You force your eyes open despite your state, sobbing openly into his hand as he allows you some relief, guiding your head back down slowly but nearly wrapping himself around you as he sandwiches you between him and the wall, setting your hands free and pressing his own against the ledge in front of you, the other one gripping your hip harshly.

He’s mumbling something behind you, sounding wrecked beyond repair—some in english, some in spanish. His voice is heavier and slurry, small groans escaping when you squeeze him just a little too tight, “Cuidado, nena. Easy, easy,” He begs into your shoulder, “I can feel it, baby.”

“I wanna taste it,” You tell him suddenly, driven to near insanity by the thought of it, his heady taste on your tongue as he jerks himself into your mouth—and if this was only a one-time thing, you just couldn’t pass that up, “please?”

And fuck, he can’t say no to you.

He switches gears, fingers finding your clit and circling quickly, determined to bring you over the edge once more, before he can reach that point himself, following through on his promise to make you come again as it hits you suddenly, muffled into the hand that finds your mouth again, biting gently at the inside of his palm in an effort to stifle your moan, his movements going far past the point of over-stimulation and you swat him away, hearing his voice strained from behind you.

“On your knees, nena.” He directs and you move quickly, seeing the pained and pinched up look on his face as he grips his cock, glistening with your slick as he jerks himself in front of your face, gravel digging into your knees but you can’t be bothered to care, eagerly sticking out your tongue to feel the press of his tip against it. 

“Good—good girl, look so fuckin’ sweet down on your knees.”

Your delicate fingers grip into the silk material of his shirt as he cradles the top of your head, fingers gripping into your hair roughly as he comes with a strangled groan, muffled through clenched teeth. 

Thick spurts paint your tongue, your lips wrapping around his head briefly as you swirl your tongue around the head, determined to clean up whatever mess was left as you swallow it down, flashing your tongue in show as he loosens his grip on your hair, stumbling back slightly.

The aftermath is quiet, fumbling with clothes to redress yourself as you pull your straps back over your shoulder, adjusting the dress back over your hips and Lucien keeps a careful eye on you, tucking himself back into his briefs, jeans slipping back over his ass as he buckles the belt into place, noticing how you squeeze your thighs together instinctively, suddenly remembering where your missing garment had gone.

You start to reach for it but his hand covers the pocket, brow furrowed in a playful frustration as he swats your hand away, “Luce, I need those.” You insist, but he shrugs nonchalantly.

“Maybe I want an excuse to return them,” He admits, puffing out his shirt and smoothing the wrinkles, running a lazy hand through his tousled hair before giving you a quick one-over, assuming you didn’t want to stress the…fucked-out look you’re sure you sported, to some degree. A small hum slips from his lips as he nods toward the back door, “I’m gonna smoke another, if you wanna head inside.”

Less conspicuous, less obvious. Besides, he needed a minute to collect himself. Clearing his throat as he reached into his back pocket for the second time that night.

You leave quietly, a simple nod but a lingering touch as he fingers trail along your wrist as you leave, a definitive wink your way as he turns away, faint lighter flick in the distance.

You mold back into the small talk with ease, only catching him entering through the backdoor several minutes later, a faint blush to his cheeks from the sticky heat and you linger, selfishly.

And he’s hoping to blend in, avoid any and all conversation for the rest of the night—but there’s your father, hot on his heels as he sways a little on his feet, looking eager for conversation.

“How’s your kid doing?” He asks casually, “I’m sure she talked you head off about college.” There’s a subtle nod in your direction that makes you uncomfortable, shrinking slightly from the wall you rested against.

“Fine.” Lucien bites back his words, giving little away.

“I get it, college ain’t easy on us,” He replies, “But, I sure am proud of her.”

Lucien smiles slightly, a small huff of a laugh hidden behind pursed lips.

“Should be,” He agrees, “she’s something special.”

And if your heart doesn’t swell ten sizes then, it’s later. Wondering how he got your number as he sends a picture of the ruined panties he kept for himself, draped over his lap as he sends a short message.

Got a minute? Wanted to return these.

Fortunately for you, you had all the time in the world for Lucien.

[reminiscingtonight]

Everything Has Changed

Ana-Maria Crnogorčević x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Love You More (Part Two)

[WOSO Masterlist]

Finishing your fourth ice cube, you look at the clock again. It’s the fifth time you’ve looked at it in the past couple minutes, impatiently awaiting the return of your wife. 

Lia had all but dragged Ana out after practice, saying something about how she needed the blonde to go shopping with her for some new furniture in her apartment. So pouting and feigning annoyance, you returned home alone. 

While you were slightly peeved at Lia for depriving you of some quality time with your wife, there’s a part of you that appreciated it all the same. It left you plenty of time to finally wrap up the gift that you had been waiting to give Ana. 

It’s been sitting in a spare duffle of yours, tucked between a couple old shirts and stolen hoodies. You bought it earlier in the week, immediately after you went to the doctor’s office to confirm the result of your at home test. 

It isn’t until you’re nearly all the way done with your next ice cube that you hear some muffled words through the door. Like a puppy to a bone, you perk up at the sound of keys in the lock.

This is something you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. Up until last year, you and Ana have never played for the same club team. Lia’s the one who introduced the two of you to each other all those years ago. Having taken a quick liking to the Swiss when she first joined Arsenal, Lia took it upon herself to be your wingwoman until it became apparent that the blonde was the one for you. Countless blind dates set up by the brunette all seemed for naught when you vacationed with Lia and a couple of mutual football friends and instantly hit it off with Ana. Dating was superseded by an engagement, and a wedding came not long after.

So yes, most of your relationship was spent balancing long distance, but after her contract in Spain ended, Ana decided to come to Arsenal to be with you. You had already decided a while back that you’d play out your last couple years in England at a club that’s become so dear to you, and Ana took it as a win to go play for a club where her wife and best friend both played at.

So now you get to wake up to the love of your life, pull faces at each other as you scramble to make it out the door to trainings on time, dance around the kitchen as you try to make dinner (which will inevitably result in Ana stepping in when you burn it), and bask in all that domestic bliss the two of you missed out on in those early years of your relationship. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Ana shouts, a goofy grin on her face as she rounds the corner to the living room. 

You have a similar smile on your face, tilting your head up to receive the kiss Ana presses to your lips in greeting. Letting out a relieved sigh, Ana all but collapses onto the seat next to you. Chuckling, you give her head a couple scratches as she launches into a rant about Lia’s indecisiveness.

“After my fourth sigh Lia nearly shoved me over and said all I wanted to do was go home and cuddle with you, which of course was what I wanted to do, but I couldn't let Lia of all people be correct, you know? So I had to walk a couple more laps with her around the store until she decided she didn’t want anything from that place.”

“Number one best friend right here,” you chuckle, expertly slapping away Ana’s hands as she tries to tickle you for your jest. “Hey, hey! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Huffing, she rolls her eyes good heartedly at you. Though the pout on her face becomes real when you move to get out of her arms. “Where are you going?” she whines, hands scrambling to pull you back into her side. 

“Calm down, Ana. I’m coming right back,” you shout over your shoulder, quickly running to the closet to grab your gift. It takes some digging, but eventually you find it. 

With a skip in your step, you return to a sullen looking wife. Ana perks up at your return, hands instantly making a grabby motion towards you. 

“To reward your patience, I got you a gift.”

Ana blinks in surprise, mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ at the sight of the wrapped box in your hands. “A gift? For me?”

You laugh at her dumbfounded look. “Yes, I’ve got a present for you,” you repeat.

Eyebrows scrunching up, you can almost see the gears turning in Ana’s head. “I didn’t forget anything did I?”

Laughing, you press a kiss against your wife’s head. “No, babe, you didn’t. I just wanted to spoil you today.”

Settling into her side, you watch as Ana begins her careful work of unfolding your gift. Unlike you, Ana treats all wrapping paper with care. You’re the opposite, much more likely to tear and rip at anything placed in your hands. Now the impatient one, you start tapping your foot on the ground. You really hope Ana’s going to like your gift, but when it comes down to it, you can’t really predict the way she’s going to react. 

Finally finished unfolding, Ana pulls out a tiny jersey, eyebrows furrowing as she takes in the Arsenal logo on the front. You can tell she’s still confused as she flips it over to see the name on the back.  

There are so many letters there that the font is smaller than it normally is, the letters still nearly curling their way to the front. The two of you had hyphenated your last names after marriage, but professionally you still wore your own. When given the choice between which jersey to get, it wasn’t really a competition.

Wracking her mind, Ana tries to think why you got her this shirt. The last shirt you got your cat led to hours of glaring and hissing, even after you took it off her and gave her cuddles, so Ana knew it wasn’t for her. And the dog you shared was definitely too big to fit into something this size.

It’s at this moment Ana realizes the shape of the jersey. Or more specifically the way the ends meet together with a click, giving way to two tiny leg holes.

“Is this…” Ana trails off, fingers absentmindedly tracing her last name as she tries to calm her racing mind.

“I wanted to get one of my jerseys for the baby but for right now I’m more than happy to give them a jersey of the best player I know.”

Ana whips her head around, eyes darting between your face and your stomach. It’s obvious she doesn’t really know where to look, eyes a little wild. “Baby? Are you… is it… did it work?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nod. “I’m pregnant.”

It’s silent for a minute as Ana takes in your words. Her eyes have started watering, bottom lip quivering with the beginning of a sob. 

This is something the two of you have been waiting for for years. Of course your careers are important to you, but you both agreed that a successful career meant nothing without a family to share it with. After an injury took you out for the majority of last season, the two of you decided there was no time like the present and began looking into IVF treatments. However, despite all of your hardwork and prayers, nothing took. 

The two of you had just begun discussing alternative methods for expanding your family when you took your last pregnancy test. 

And it was positive.

Ana’s still trying hard not to cry when she cups your face, pressing her forehead against yours. “You’re pregnant?”

Nodding, you gently grasp Ana’s hands before directing them onto your abdomen. It’s this action that causes the dam to break, and Ana begins sobbing, quickly pressing her face into the side of your neck to muffle her cries. 

Soothingly rubbing your hands up and down her back, you whisper how much you love her and how amazing of a mom she’ll be. It takes a couple minutes before her cries die down, the blonde overwhelmed by the news of your expanding family. Eventually she pulls her head up, allowing you to wipe the tears from her face. 

“We’re having a baby,” she wetly laughs, pressing a kiss to your fingertips when they brush past. 

Grinning, you murmur those words back. Ana lets her eyes drop back down to her hands, to where they are still pressed against your stomach. Her eyes are full of wonder and love as she takes in all in. 

The two of you are having a baby. 

You’re going to be parents.

“I love you,” she whispers, voice full of emotion as she presses a kiss to your lips. Giving your hand a light squeeze, Ana leans down, lifting your shirt so she can press a light kiss against your bare abdomen. “And I love you too, my little dove. Your mama and I can’t wait to meet you.”

You don’t think anything can beat this moment--

(You didn’t think anything could beat your first date.

Or your first anniversary.

Or your second.

Or Ana asking you to marry her.

Or your wedding.

Or Ana moving to London to be with you.)

--at least until you see your precious daughter staring up at you with wide eyes, dressed in her little Crnogorčević jersey.

[shares-a-vest]

"Are you sure you don't want to just come over to my place?"

Steve bites his lip, contemplating the proposal Robin has offered him several times this week, ever since he'd told her he was having lunch with his parents.

It was Father's Day after all.

His parents would be home for at least a fortnight this time, on a quick stop-over in Hawkins before leaving again, this time for a vacation somewhere. They needed "a break" his mother had said with a laboured sigh, all whistful and longing as if she wasn't making such a statement amidst a lengthy monologue about all the friends they had just caught up with in Indianapolis.

Steve guesses they were technically a business trip. Though his recollections of such trips he'd gone as a kid (back when his parents absolutely had to bring him along) did involve the odd visit to Head Office in between social gatherings that only ever felt vaguely related to his father's business.

He turns away from the wall-mounted phone in the kitchen to look out at the patio. His father is sitting on a lounge chair, drinking a coffee and, low and behold, reading his new copy of The Bourne Supremacy Steve had handed him at breakfast.

His father was impossible to buy for - so a book was always a safe enough choice, one that would at least give him a "thank you" in return with no further commentary or snark.

"Uh..." he hums into the phone as his father turns a page, "Y'know what? Maybe later."

He gasps as his mother opens the back sliding door to the kitchen, the skirt of her yellow patterned kaftan flowing along with her. He turns back to the wall, crowding the phone base.

"Steve?" his mother asks, chuckling, "You're still on the phone!"

It isn't exactly chastising, more amused like Robin's mother gets about the pair of them talking on the phone for a solid hour at a time.

He looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes as his best friend groans at the comment.

"Are you sure?" Robin asks, tone abruptly turning serious, "You know my dad loves you, Steve."

"I'll come by later," he insists, "Promise."

"...Okay..." she sighs before hanging up.

As he mounts the speaker, Steve is greeted with a knowing look from his mother. She is holding a glass of iced tea, fresh ice cubes tinkling away in the tall glass.

"Mom, don't," he whines, hoping to get outside and drive straight into the pool and away from any further conversation.

She holds her free hand up in surrender, tilting her head, "Okay, darling."

"I'm going for a dip," he grumbles before heading out to the pool area.

"Your mother and I are headed over to the Martens soon," his father announces as Steve passes by his reclining form.

His stomach drops and he freezes mid-stride to the outdoor chair he'd designated for his towel.

"What?" he blurts out, practically shouting as he whips around.

His father sets his book in his lap and looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his left hand. The sunlight reflects off his shiny watch and directly into Steve's eyes.

He grimaces, quickly mirroring his father.

"But..." he begins, trying to even out his clipped tone, "You said... We... You said we were having lunch here?"

"Your mother didn't tell you?"

"But..." he repeats, his voice catching in his throat a little, "It's Father's Day."

His father stands, stretches and gathers up the beach towel he had propped under his knees.

"We wanted to see them before we headed out."

"You're here for two weeks!" Steve argues, waving his hand as if to capture the presumed time his father has to visit his oldest and most insufferable friend.

"Steve, John and Louise's son is that busy working, he doesn't have time to be sitting around on Father's Day. So, we figured we'd meet them for lunch."

"Um..." he gulps, now blinking away tears.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in and out as slowly as his growing anger will allow. The sun feels like it is burning into his bare skin, now, no longer feeling like the calming warmth he had felt when he came out to access the pool earlier.

He opens his eyes to find his father turned towards the back door.

"I'm going to Robin's."

He doesn't wait for an answer as he pushes past his father and back into the kitchen. Thankfully, his mother is nowhere to be seen as he makes a beeline for the laundry room where he'd left his work clothes from yesterday with his car keys still in the pocket of his jeans.

He grabs his Member's Only jacket from the coat rack on the way out. Even though the thing is less than weather-appropriate for a Sunday in June, right now it will suffice...

"Steve!" Robin's dad beams after he opens the front door.

The man is wearing a comically bright shirt, a Hawaiian-style button-up with a primary-coloured geometric pattern and squiggly green swirls. Steve thinks his father would hate it.

"Hi, Mr Buckley," he says, offering a tight-lipped smile as he holds out a store-bought key lime pie.

"Steve, please call me Richard," the man insists, unaware that sharing a name with his own father makes Steve want to fucking scream.

Richard takes a pie with a formal nod, his smile dropping a little as Steve shuffles about on the spot. The man looks him up and down.

Shit.

He'd forgotten about the jacket just as quickly as he had shrugged it on before speeding off in his car. But Richard waves him in with an insistent hand, thankfully not prying any further. It is probably quite obvious he isn't wearing a shirt underneath. The thought makes him itch as he becomes all too aware of the slippery fabric, its lining making the back of his neck prickle with sweat.

"Robin is in her room," Richard whispers as Steve steps inside and remembers his flip-flops too as they scuff on the threshold.

"The pie is from Melvad's, sorry," is all he thinks to say.

Richard gives him a pat on the back, just as Robin begins descending the staircase, wearing a shirt just as loud as her father's, only purple and maroon.

She smiles, though her eyes suggest she is clearly worried.

"Steve's here, darling!" Richard announces, intentionally boisterous for their close proximity.

"Oh, thank god," Robin dry-sobs, making grabby hands for the pie.

But Richard snatches it up, playing a one-sided game of keep-away that Robin doesn't even attempt to buy into. He lowers his hand with a swooping flourish, looking a little disappointed.

"Anything's better than the in-laws' dry fruit pudding," he laughs as they both examine the dessert.

"Come on," Robin says, grabbing Steve's hand and yanking him towards the stairs, "This Father's Day's theme is Richard Buckley-Approved Shirts, I've already got one ready for you. It's yellow. You'll love it."

[kampfhundin]

REALISTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH CANON SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

part two.

Okay, the second part is because I see fit and no one is going to tell me not to.

Let me say right away - this is not the only correct opinion, but I find it useful to share this with people (Since I grew up in a military environment, since my godfather is a military man who has been through several hot spots, since I am one of the managers of a military-related club, and since my ex is a military man, I am quite immersed in the daily life of such families, so heck yes, I will use my experience.)

Again, this is not a one-size-fits-all mechanism that works for every soldier, but nonetheless. I also don't take into account the different traits of different people, the human factor and other variables. I just give you the basic structure.

Here we go.

The Army is not the "Green Pines" children's camp with cheerful starts and fun contests. It's not a place where people chill out and enjoy a vacation, and it's certainly not the best place to spend your youth. The army is discipline, and often discipline that breaks you down. There's a good joke in Russia "In the army we roll cubes and carry spheres." And when you are bent and broken for a very long time, you yourself begin to bend and break those who surround you outside the barracks. It's not uncommon for soldiers to bring their Army experiences into their daily lives, even if it's just in small ways. Like, making their bed a certain way, getting up at 6 a.m. sharp, cooking something according to the recipe from the army canteen, getting ready quickly and efficiently, and so on.

The army is not a section in the biography, but a real lifestyle, which few people can change from the outside, no matter if it's your beloved one or not.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means rarely seeing each other.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he can't just run to you simply because he wants to, or because you want him to.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means spending most holidays and important events apart.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means settling for rare weekends of 1-2 days at best, and as few vacations as possible (if you're in a relationship before marriage).

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means visiting him on the bases that military spouses are allowed to visit (if you're post-marital).

This is probably the favorite trope of all fanfics, where Simon is an insatiable hero-lover. And the only truly feasible scenario where such a storyline might play out.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means getting used to his military quirks.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he knows everything better.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means accepting the role of housekeeper.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you are the beauty and comfort of his home, while he is the provider.

In my experience, no matter how progressive a soldier might be, the military structure itself is rife with sexism. It tends to follow a patriarchal, classic family dynamic (or relationship) where the Military person is the male archetype — the provider, protector, father — and the Civilian is the female archetype — taking care of the household, children/pets, cooking, mother, and simply accompanying the Military person as a beautiful appendage. This is the military, baby, an organization built by men for men, and they are taught this approach (perhaps not directly taught, but it logically follows as a conclusion).

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means getting used to his detached behavior, because emotions aren’t needed in the military.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means still experiencing jealousy and possessiveness firsthand.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means always being in the position of someone he protects (which means a lot of control, reporting to him about your actions and your friends; it means cutting back on night outings with your friends, and it means overprotectiveness).

Here’s an interesting fact for you: when you are constantly surrounded by men who, due to their profession, are inherently sexist, you hear a lot of comments about how each of them would conquer the person they’re interested in, in what positions, and without giving a damn about consent or anything else; when you are constantly surrounded by men who, due to their profession, are inherently sexist, you know firsthand how much of a piggish and animalistic attitude soldiers can often have. In this context, jealousy is less about mistrust of the partner and more about mistrust of the world around you.

And even if you finally manage to live together (he’s no longer on active duty/retired due to injury/contract ended/just retired), don’t expect a miraculous change in lifestyle!

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he’s emotionally detached because he has endured enough trauma to fill three textbooks for medical students.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he doesn’t know how to show love. Not in the way you would like, anyway.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he’s a man of action, not words. Flowers? Candy? Gifts? Rare and a waste of money.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he will show his love through concern for your health, 'are you cold? are you hungry?', and by runing you a bath before you come home after work or walk.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means his love will be shown by fixing your favorite headphones or lowering a shelf you can’t reach.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he has seen the horrors of life inside out, tasted grief and suffering, and will never allow even a hint of those horrors to touch you.

Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he will build (literally or metaphorically) a home for you where you will live like in paradise. A place where you will always be safe, content with life, and have everything you need. A true family nest with an eye on the future for your children.

Damn, this post is getting too long, so there will be a third part with more juicy details. Stay tuned!

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics and by me

part one | part three

[lisharchivez]

Hi! its me Fay

Personal archive for Chats or post replies or dialogue responses from our beloved Zayne/Li shen / Rei / Lee Seoeon from love and deep Space

and occasionally from Others as well

Its hard to keep on track since i do all these by myself

Feel free to help me out! I would be grateful!

guide

❄️Zayne ⭐Xavier 🐦‍⬛Sylus 🐚Rafayel

same cube coded ones are part of same occasions.

Archived chats so far

Zayne

🐦‍⬛ Countdown reminder

🐦‍⬛ special reminders

🐦‍⬛Extreme Sports[GLINT PHOTOBOOTH]

🐦‍⬛Just a little Joke 2.0

🐦‍⬛Electronic pet

🐦‍⬛Accordion

🐦‍⬛ reunion night

🐦‍⬛chibi filters

🐦‍⬛ depart for vacation

🐦‍⬛"injured"

🐦‍⬛Forest Maze

⭐Rabbit lantern

⭐chocolate cookies

🐦‍⬛crow talk

🐦‍⬛Forest adventure

🐦‍⬛find the kitty

Emoji edition

Snowman laying down shaking head "NO" caption pt 1 pt 2

not listening

time for meds

Tea

....

Archived posts so far

Moments -

❄️the snow stopped

❄️Traffic jam

❄️Dusk or Dawn

❄️Cat's blessing

❄️Rabbit escaped

❄️it's fun and easy (first plushie)

❄️let's go home (3 plushie)

❄️angry mc obtained (No plushie)

❄️goodluck (1st SSR meow badge)

❄️has anyone seen my socks

❄️haggle through Language barrier

❄️Queueing [aff 62]

❄️Trial and error

❄️Diseased Mind

❄️Drink Plenty of water

❄️Stroll on the road

❄️surprise

❄️someone said we were only taking picture-

❄️Earbuds are broken[snapshot same pose]

❄️Reminders

❄️Philosophers[snapshot specific duo pose]

❄️I'm now accustomed to [snapshot follow up]

❄️Squirrel brought a friend[related to feed the squirrel chat]

❄️Power suddenly went out

❄️Medium rare

❄️Three notification for light meal

❄️Captchas aren't scientific

1️⃣Jenna,Tara,Greyson,Thomas pt1 pt2

❄️between the results of medical exam and theoretical exam-

🟪 🐦‍⬛tweak smile

🟪❄️learned a lot of weird trivia

🟪���the book from beginner to expert

🟪🐚time to graduate

🐦‍⬛just woke up

🐦‍⬛ sunset

🐦‍⬛ Ammo Box Grill

🐦‍⬛ Not a Tiger[aff 23]

❄️ Fun thing [aff 77]

🐦‍⬛Goblet [aff 31]

❄️ paper penguin [aff 58]

⭐holding hands can shock U

🐦‍⬛Auction[aff 27]

🐦‍⬛mechanical crow likes shiny things

❄️waiting at the concert

🐦‍⬛ MC's birthday - Sylus

🐦‍⬛ heatwave

❄️Mild myopia

🐦‍⬛lil S pet store

🐦‍⬛most fun part of kitty card

🐦‍⬛Crows aren't actually black

❄️ blankets power

❄️100% sugar latte to go

❄️ recent chat fills up Doctor patient joke collection

❄️Refrigerator turned into display case for magnet

🐦‍⬛who said people have to smile

❄️crab roe soup dumpling

❄️special gift 💞41

EVENT edition -

[ Twinkle.Co HeartworkRoutine]

Ready to row [Event chat]

After you get your first plushie at soul catcher [post]

🟠After you finish chapter 2 [posts]

After the rain

Parterre day trip[Rafayel]

Great for a relaxing run[Xavier]

Partner Go Go

Adventure Above Clouds

Moonlit Orchid Day

[zweetpea]

Happy Birthday My Love

Happy birthday L

ao3 version: here

It was the best day of the year. That is to say it was Halloween, and more importantly your husband L’s birthday.

I know right? You snatched the greatest detective in the world? Obviously, you’re beautiful. Anyway enough about you!

————

You met him in a cafe in NYC when he was 23 and you were 21. You were reading a Sherlock novel, he ordered 14 big cookies, 2 strawberry slices shortcakes, Jasmine tea with a bowl of sugar cubes, and a banana split. He sat right by your table and you looked over with concern. 

“…are you okay?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m concerned for your health. You can’t seriously eat all of that in one sitting.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because that’s not a proper lunch.” You say as you lift up your drink.

“Of course not. This is my pre lunch snack to get my brain stimulated.” At his statement you spit out your drink in surprising.

“What are you, diabetic? How can someone eat so much and yet be so skinny.”

“I find that you can burn calories by using your brain.”

“Okay Einstein. Just don’t drop dead anytime soon. I’m just here on vacation, I don’t need the police suspecting me to be the serial killer going around.”

“Why would they think that? You’re just a tourist.”

“I don’t find most police to be very bright or effective. Private Investigators do more work in a week than any beat cop could do in their entire life.��

The strange man was silent for a second, so you assumed that the conversation was over. However you weren’t expecting him to hold out a cookie for you. “Take it. Movie theater popcorn isn’t that good.”

“The hell?”

“Your tickets. Jaws, 1:15. I assume that your waiting for someone. You only got a drink and during lunch hour most people buy food.”

“Oh really? When do you have lunch, if this is your snack?” 

“Same time as your movie. The only difference between then will be I’ll be dinning on fine quality food and you’ll be having stale popcorn and processed butter.” You look away. “Did I strike a nerve.”

“No offense but you’re a stranger. I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to spill my guts and whole life story to you.”

“Yet you asked me if I was okay.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anyone eat so many sweets. Is it a crime to be concerned?”

“No. Just think of this as me repaying the generosity.”

“My Fiancé and I came out here to meet his parents.”

“You’re a little young to be getting married.”

“Uh, thanks? I don’t think it’s that weird, I’m 21. It’s not like I’m 12 being married off to some foreign diplomat.”

“Let me give you some advice. He either gave you the ring to get you to shit up or because he wants an unpaid maid.”

“Excuse me?”

“21 men don’t typically give up on hooking up with bimbo’s in short leather skirts. I’m 76%- no, 78% certain that he’s going to cheat on you by years end if he’s not already cheating. And judging by the way you smile sadly at your ring and scrunch your hands around your tickets I think you know that too.” 

“What would you do if you were me?”

“Dump him and go out with the skinny diabetic across from you, clearly.” He responded sarcastically.

“Ha, you’re so funny.” You replied back with the same tone, rolling your eyes.

“You should at least tell him what you want. If he’s not willing to negotiate, leave him.”

“What I want, huh? I want to go see Jaws, would any diabetic Einsteins be interested in movie theater candy?”

“Okay that jokes run its course. No I’m not interested in that chewy soulless garbage.”

“Could I bribe you with another slice of cake?”

“I thought that you were worried about my health? Also this is highly improper.”

“Making a new friend?”

“Chatting up a man when you’re engaged.”

“It’s not like I’m asking you out, I just don’t want to go to my movie alone. When life gives you lemons, ya know?”

“Cake and cookies. You eat some too okay. I’m Yuuji.” You shook him hand and replied back with your own name.

——

“Okay, why do you like this movie?”

“It’s a classic! Sure they probably should’ve just poisoned the stupid thing. Sometimes the right answer is the most obvious one.” You two smiled as you walked out of the theater.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Sometimes the answer is the most obvious one. I gotta go, here…” he scribbled down something on his ticket and handed it to you. “Nice to meet you, friend.” He trotted off down the street. You looked down at his ticket and saw he gave you his number.

“Huh, not bad Emo boy.”

————

“My love, wake up. I made you breakfast.” You say as you kiss his neck.

“Let me sleep in on my birthday.” He groaned. “Don’t temp me to give in with that sultry voice. You know I can’t say no to you when you do that.”

“Not true. It’s only 82.79% affective. As evident of now.”

 “I stayed up late for weeks to perfect your favorite pancakes for you.”

“How’d I get so lucky to have a wife like you?”

“Good question, better question though is how did I manage to impress the world’s 3 greatest detectives?”

“By being intoxicating.” He replied smoothly.

“Okay Casanova, eat up before you food gets cold.” He smirked, grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into bed with him. Then he trailed kisses from your collar bone up to your jaw and finally planted a long deep loving kiss on your lips. “L!”

“How can you be mad at me when I have the sweetest treat right here in my arms?”

“I love you, L.”

“I love you too.”

BONUS: 

L: Mmh, these buttercream cheese and strawberry pancakes are delicious. Thank you my wife.

You: A perfect meal for my perfect husband. Mwah! 

You Two kiss!

[ryin-silverfish]

JTTW Discord Summer Contest Entry: South Seas Sojourn

AO3 Mirror

-In collaboration with the amazing @ejaysstuff, who did the art!

-I'd say "This is mostly me nerding out about folklore", except that sums up all my recent one-shots.

-An LMK fanfic about Wukong going on a vacation, set between S3 and S4. 

---

"I'm going on a vacation!"

Before anyone in the noodle shop could let out a groan or a cry of "Again?!", Sun Wukong immediately added, "And you are coming too, MK. I ain't leaving my disciple out of the fun, not after, well, everything."

"But it's okay to leave me out of the fun?" Mei sulked, as she tried to make the tea inside her cup rise up, yet only created a little ripple. 

"Hey, I'm not the one who signed you up for that internship at your uncle's place." Sun Wukong said. "But maybe we can drop by once we are done! Take a break from the heat in the cool air of the North Sea."

"Yeah, the nice, cool, sub-zero-degree air of the arctic zone..." Mei sighed. "Don't wanna beat on that dead horse, but I'm so, so sick of icy stuff."

"Aw, bummers. Guess you won't be a fan of my new tea recipe, then." Sandy poked his head out from inside the kitchen. MK could hear ice cubes clinking inside a glass, and so did Mei, since she perked up within seconds and looked like she was on the verge of backflipping over the counter.

"Sandy, Sandy my man, I'll never not be a fan of your tea recipe!" 

"Uh, where are we even going?" MK asked, in between the sound of icy lemon tea being slurped through a twisty straw. "Don't get me wrong, I'm super duper up to it! But Mr. Tang had been complaining non-stop on MeChat about Pigsy's decision to drag him to Chang'e's virtual concert during summer break, where every major tourist spot is packed with kids. I hope we are going somewhere...quieter, that's all."

"Oh, no worries. It won't be deserted, but it ain't gonna be nearly as crowded." Sun Wukong paused, striking a pose. "We are going to the South Seas, bud!"

"...Where?" MK and Mei asked in unison, drowning out Sandy's faint "Wait, like, Guanyin's place?".

"Out south. In the oceans. Duh." 

"That explains nothi——"

"And no, my big blue friend, I won't be knocking on her doors at Potaloka unless someone needs saving! She's gonna be real busy in the next few weeks anyways." Sun Wukong continued. "For you less geographically gifted kids: it's where Lion City and Betel City are. Ring any bells?"

Mei made an "Oooo" noise. "You mean the place with the mermaid lion? Man, I was so disappointed when I found out it wasn't a real critter working for the South Sea Dragons." 

"I still have no idea what you are talking about!" 

"Ah well, MK, you'll be finding out soon enough." Sun Wukong said. "So go give your Dadsy a holler, and start packing up! We'll be leaving next week or the week after that, depending on when Nezha gets off work." A pause. "Yeah, he's coming too."

...

"We aren't really going on a vacation, are we?" MK asked, as he dragged his luggage up the creaky wooden walkway near the Megapolis harbor beach. 

Dangit, who knew that mosquito repellent and sunscreen could weigh so much? (Tang and Pigsy were very adamant about the importance of taking enough of these, once they heard the news over MeChat.)

"What makes you think that?" Sun Wukong replied, swishing his tail at the daring seagulls who kept trying to peck it. 

"Well, last time you said you were going on a vacation, you weren't really telling the truth." MK let out a nervous chuckle. "And Nezha's coming too. I don't know him all that well, but he doesn't sound like the kind of guy who'll, uh, join in on the fun just because?"

"Yeah. Sorry again, MK," he sighed. "But you are half-right. It's not a complete vacation, and more of a vacation-slash-summer school, slash-free exposure therapy..."

"What was that last part?"

"Nothing!" Sun Wukong exclaimed cheerfully. "Basically, you are gonna learn how to be a god, MK."

"I——WHAT?!"

"Relax, bud! It's not as serious as you think." A pause. "How do I put it...hmm, it's like being a hero, but more down-to-earth. Where, instead of people asking you to save them from big bad demons, they are asking you to solve their personal problems."

"Like?"

"Win lottery tickets. And discipline their kids for them."

"Speak for yourself."  

A familiar voice echoed through the evening air. The next second, in a blaze of pink fire, the Third Lotus Prince was standing tall on his wheels, his sash flowing in the wind. 

"Oooh, what did I just hear? Good ol' Brother Nezha, Electro-Techno Third Prince, The Other God You Go To For Lottery Tickets, acting all uppity and serious!" Sun Wukong stuck his tongue out at the new arrival. "Nice entrance, by the way. Very flashy." 

"You know very well I don't answer every desperate addict who doesn't know when to quit, nor do I play games of chance for fun! I play them to win!" Nezha retorted. "Also, thanks for the compliment, Great Sage."

"You are welcome, Laodi."

"Are we really going on a vacation to...help people gamble?" MK nervously raised a hand. "Isn't that, like, against the law?"

"Goodness, what have you been telling your disciple before my arrival? No, what have you left out?" Nezha groaned. "Well, since your mentor clearly hasn't explained our goals properly, I suppose I'll have to substitute for him. Again."

"Hey! Professor Sun is getting to it, Teaching Assistant Nezha——"

"In the next week, we shall be visiting and staying in multiple cities of the South Seas. Now that my true body isn't guarding the Samadhi Fire, I can finally start answering the more tricky prayers," Nezha sighed, "Which will only continue to pile up, since the Seventh Month is imminent."

"Seventh Month?" MK asked, reaching into his pocket with one hand. "But it's August the third already! Lemme check the calendar again..."

"Lunar Seventh Month. Also known as the Ghost Month." Nezha shot a look at Sun Wukong, his expression a mix between annoyance and slight concern. "Someone has picked a great time and place to take his student on a trip."

"What could I say? It sure is less depressing than Qingming nowadays. And they won't fine you for burning paper effigies in the South Seas, or so I've heard!"

"I…no matter." Nezha's look softened a bit, but not by much. "Back to what I was saying. Once the gates of the Underworld open, all the spirits will come out, go visit their families, enjoy the offerings as much as they can under the watch of Dashi Ye, Lady Guanyin's ghostly manifestation."

"We'll be assisting him, much like my brother and all the local gods. Keeping order, giving directions, and all that. In between these shifts, I’ll finally get to perform my duties in my actual physical body instead of the youthful manifestations mortals expect to see, and your mentor is free to monkey around with you and his worshippers at his own temples. All clear?"

"So we are gonna be, like, tour guides and security, but for dead people?" MK asked. "That doesn't…sound too bad, actually! Also, you have a brother, Nezha?"

"No, I pop out of a rock, just like your master." Nezha said flatly, then added, "Goodness, I wish. Muzha can be a bit much, but he's a lot more bearable while on the job, so no worries."

"Someone's getting jealous again, I see," Sun Wukong reached over to pat him on the head, and received an annoyed glare. "Oh, and don't let Nezha's sour attitude fool you, MK. We are still on a vacation, it ain't gonna be all work and no play! And the work won't start until several days later, so we'll have plenty of time."

…

This didn't seem like a great start for our vacation, MK thought. 

Okay, it did, for about three minutes, after they got off the somersault cloud. 

The palm trees were swaying in the wind, the two-story buildings with red-tiled roofs were glowing under the tropical sun, and Nezha reluctantly glamoured a lotus-patterned T-shirt and some baggy pants over his armor after rejecting Sun Wukong's more outlandish suggestions ("You should totally change your wheels into flaming flip-flops!"). Not a single dangerous, vacation-ruining, world-destroying threat in sight.

Then a giant rain cloud appeared out of nowhere, driving most of the crowd indoors and leaving the unfortunate ones seeking shelter under the nearest rooftops and bus stations. 

Not that it helped much——MK felt like he was standing behind the waterfall at Flower Fruit Mountain again, as raindrops slammed into the ground with a fury and created splashes of watery mists.

"Okay, Nezha, Did you anger the local dragons again?" Sun Wukong asked, holding the monkey-hair-turned-umbrella over MK's head.

"Nonsense! Not even the East Sea ones hold a grudge for this long, and I've never seen a South Sea dragon other than their king," Nezha said, then added, "and my brother's co-worker. Are you sure you have a temple nearby?"

"Eh, maybe. I saw a bunch of faith beacons up there, all clustered together." Sun Wukong shrugged. "Some of these have to be mine."

"Have to be yours? Oh, that's rich, coming from someone who hasn't visited the South Seas in person since the 19th century——"

"And they still love me, bud. Deal with it."

"Um, what's a faith beacon?" MK wiped the water droplets off his phone screen with one thumb, trying and failing to steer his luggage away from the puddles. "I'm not seeing any on CloudMap."

"Well, you won't, unless you are a patron god of IT workers or some other technology-related stuff!" Sun Wukong said. "How do I put it, hmmm…after people have prayed to you for a while, offered enough incense, you can just sense the places they are doing it at. Usually, it looks like a beam or a glowy aura, but some gods can smell or hear it too."

"Wow, that's so cool! It's like a mystical VR goggle. Is it something you can learn, though?"

"Look, I'm glad that you are doing your job as a mentor, but can we please get some actual directions?" Nezha sighed. "Temples here aren't always their own separate buildings. I've been summoned inside too many HDB flats to count, and you won't know that by looking at the beacons alone."

"We are heading in that direction right now. It'll get clearer once I get closer to the place. So be patient, will ya'?"

"Well, isn't that just the most reassuring answer I've ever heard. 'We'll get there when we get there'." Nezha muttered, as the group took a turn into a narrow side street, ducking below the swaying lanterns and multilingual shop signs. "Just so you know, if the rain doesn't stop and we don't get there in two hours, I'm dragging both of you onto a bus and to my temple instead."

"Why, you three sound like you are lost! Need a tour guide?"

Abruptly, a high-pitched, child-like voice resounded through the torrential rain, coming out of the alleyway to their left. MK turned to look at the speaker—

—and stared straight into the lifeless glowing eyes of a chalk-faced monstrosity, its red tongue hanging out of its mouth.

With a scream, his staff was out, and in a split second, connected with the thing's head and sent it flying into the nearest wall. It slid off the yellowed concrete, landed with a splash, then went completely still. 

A spiderweb crack was spreading across its porcelain mask——Oh goodness, it's a puppet, which was somehow even worse.

"Ah. The answer is 'No', it seems."

He nearly extended the staff and hit the puppet again when it spoke, had Sun Wukong not dashed forth and, in one swift motion, dragged a pale specter out of it by the robe collar.

"Glad to see you again, Xiao Xie!" He grinned in a rather dangerous way, like what Mr. Tang said non-intelligent monkeys really meant when they bore their teeth. "Is there any particular reason why you are jumpscaring my student in broad daylight, or do you just have nothing better to do?"

"Yes, because this one knows it will happen!" The specter, still in Sun Wukong's grip, said in a cheerfully oblivious voice. “The vision caught this one by surprise too. It's not every day that you see the Great Sage's golden staff approaching your face at lethal speed, especially when you have done nothing to offend him. Good thing this one did not come in his contractor's body!"

Behind them, Nezha let out a groan. "Oh joy, it's these two clowns again."

"W-W-What the heck just happened?! And what's THAT?" MK pointed at the specter. Outside of that creepy puppet, it just looked like a lanky, unnaturally pale youth in an oversized mandarin jacket and a tall hat.

Before Nezha could answer, another sullen voice cut him off.

"You knew you'd get smacked in the face if you came, so naturally, you possessed the creepiest vessel you could find and headed straight in this direction." The air suddenly got a lot colder. "I don't need precognition to know you deserve to be smacked at this point."

The water in a nearby puddle rippled. Okay, technically, it never stopped rippling because of the rain, but this one was a lot bigger, as if something was about to crawl out.

MK took a step back. Seconds later, the murky water turned inky black, rising up into the air and coalescing into the form of a short, stern-faced kid, wearing the same clothings as the pale specter, except they were all black-colored.

"Darn right, Lao—" Sun Wukong paused, as he turned and took a closer look at the newcomer. "Xiao Fan? Huh, didn't expect to see this you here. Not that I'm complaining."

"I'm absolutely complaining." The kid replied. "Our main souls have been attending one meeting after another at Fengdu since the Ivory Lady Incident, which is why I'm currently on," He shot a pointed look at his ghostly companion, "babysitting duty. You gonna smack him or not? Cause I won't mind if you do, Great Sage."

"Aww, really, Xiao Fan? You, of all people, should know that everything this one sees will happen, even if he doesn't know how or why. Since trying to avoid a future is the best way to unknowingly make it come true, this one can only try to soften the impacts and minimize the risks."

"By making sure you would, one-hundred-percent, get hit in the face by someone?" Fan snorted. "Way to go, brother."

"By making sure that staff wasn't slamming into this one's soul, or a flesh-and-blood vessel!" Xie replied. "And the mission is a success! Only a single puppet is harmed."

Nezha threw his hands up in the air. "How did you manage to be even more annoying and nonsensical than your main soul?"

"Welcome to my fucking un-life." Fan mumbled.

"Um, hello?" MK waved awkwardly. "Have you guys suddenly started speaking in some sort of secret code mid-conversation, cause I don't understand a single word you just said."

"Gosh! Sorry, bud," Sun Wukong finally let go of Xie's collars (now that MK thought about it, how did you even grab a ghost's collars? Mystic Monkey Magic at play again?) "Get a bit carried away there."

He pointed at the two specters. "Meet the Heibai Wuchang. The ghost cops, or rather, parts of them. Remember your hair clones? Xiao Xie and Xiao Fan here are kinda like that, but with their souls."

"T-The ghost cops?" MK squirmed. The downpour had become a light drizzle, but he still felt chilly, and it wasn't because his T-shirt sleeves and socks were now soaked. "Like…the ones you see when you are about to die?"

"Don't worry, bud! They aren't here to take any of us away. I think." Sun Wukong narrowed his eyes slightly, "and even if they were, I'd like to see them try."

"Nah. Not a chance. This one still values his un-life—"

"Yeah? Then apologizing to my student and stop wandering around in that thing will be a good start!"

"—so yes, he is very sorry for the distress he caused, young one. The 'wandering around in possessed objects' part, though, is perfectly legal, and this one still has to take the puppet back to his temple, so sorry, no can do."

"You have a temple now?" Sun Wukong let out a chuckle of disbelief. "You two?"

"You really haven't been around here in a while, have you, Great Sage?" Nezha said. "Yes, unfortunately. It's a new South Seas trend, and I hope it stays where it is."

"Our main altar here is still inside the City God's temple. But there are more temples dedicated to us alone, across the strait." Fan said. "And I'm obligated to inform you that all deities who visit the South Seas in their true bodies instead of using clones or astral projections must notify the local City God's temple beforehand, or submit the relevant paperwork immediately after arrival."

"Hmm, and if I don't?" Sun Wukong raised an eyebrow. "What are you gonna do?"

"Other than following you around and staring at you judgmentally? Nothing substantial." Fan said, before sighing deeply. "But if you can at least pretend to respect us and not treat Underworld officials like the complete pushovers we are, we'd really appreciate it."

Sun Wukong hollered at that. "Y'know what? I think I'll do just that, since this you are a lot cuter and not a raging jerk!"

"You know my main soul can hear you, right?"

"Exactly." Sun Wukong grinned. Unlike a few minutes ago, it was a lot less tense. "So lead the way, Xiao Fan!"

…

When MK heard the whole…ghost temple thing, he was expecting skeletons, eerie lighting, spooky stuff.

Okay, some of the statues and puppets were still creepy. Same for the possessions. 

Sure, the ghost cops had explained that they had human "contractors" who'd let them possess their bodies willingly, after signing a lengthy form where all the risks and duties are spelled out clearly.

But when he thought of possessions, the only images that came to mind was LBD's host, shaking like she was in the middle of winter again despite sitting inside the safe, cozy confines of Pigsy's Noodles. And Sun Wukong's golden eyes glowing frost blue, devoid of all warmth and emotions.

Well, better get used to it now. Gonna see a lot more ghosts once the…summer school part of the vacation-slash-summer school starts.

MK took a deep breath and began to make his way back through the corridors, a small incense burner in hand. The exterior of the temple was dated and slightly out of place, sitting beneath towering skyscrapers and surrounded by neatly trimmed park lawn.

Past the main hall and the altar room behind it, however, the place could be mistaken for any modern office building. Or the background of a Monkey Cop episode, except the cops were all ghosts and the monkey was filling in the divine equivalent of a customs form.

"There, done." Sun Wukong said, putting the pen down, "Right in the nick of time! For real, though, couldn't you ghosts just burn the paperwork together with the rest of the effigies?"

"And get them stuck beneath a mountain of sports cars, or whatever insane vehicles people decide to send to their ancestors nowadays? No thanks." 

As he handed the incense burner over to Sun Wukong, who crumpled the form into a ball and tossed it inside, MK caught a glimpse of a dark blue aura, enveloping the handle of the back door before it opened on its own. Two more uniformed ghosts hovered in, telekinetically carrying multiple pitched paper objects.

"Speak of the devil…" Fan turned towards his partner, who was leaning leisurely against a wall. "This year's bunch are already coming in, and if you bothered working with a contractor today, you better put that physical body to good use and start helping!"

"Alright, alright, This one hears you." Xie yawned, then walked over and grabbed the floating effigies. "Hmmm, no helicopters or private jets this year? That's a bit disappointing."

"Well, Mr. Chow sent a pretty big table, boss. We don't think it's gonna fit through the backdoor, so we left it in the park pavilion."

"Excuse me?" MK perked up. At last, a chance to do something instead of just standing there and watching awkwardly. "Do you need something resized? Cause I have just the power for that!"

…

"Y'know, I was wondering what's so special about a table," Sun Wukong poked his head out from behind the door frame, trying very hard to suppress the giggles, "or why they'd make a live-sized one in the first place. Now I get it." 

"Kudos for dedication, I guess?" MK shrugged. "I'm sure their loved ones would, uh, appreciate the gift down there."

With a snap of his fingers, the paper Mahjong table returned to its original size, drastically reducing the remaining space inside the storage room. 

Yeah, the "craft" part of "Arts & Crafts" wasn't really his strong suit, but a piece this detailed and lovingly crafted? It probably took weeks to make. And cost more than an actual Mahjong table.

"Are you two done admiring the beauty of that absurd object? Can we please leave and go somewhere else now?" Nezha's muffled complaint came from the corridors. “It's raining outside again, and if we don't hurry——"

"Even if you do hurry, this one doubts you will be able to get any further than the bus stop, in the two minutes it shall take for the drizzle to become a downpour once more." Xie said, then tossed the last stack of golden joss paper into the storage room.

"Great! Wonderful! Yeah, I'm just looking forward to spending more time with you and your clowns-in-training." Nezha snarked. "How will we ever get anywhere in life without your nifty short-term prophecies?"

"Hey hey, Nezha, chill out. A dash of salt is good n' all, but you are getting spicy over there." Sun Wukong said. "But, speaking of ways to pass the time during a rainy day…"

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he turned to look at Xie. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Judging by what this one just saw? Yes."

"Great! Come here, bud, I have something that will make our stay a lot less boring."

Sun Wukong beckoned MK over, back into the big guest room, then pulled out a tuft of hair. Seconds later, an actual Mahjong table landed squarely on the floor with a thud, complete with chairs and Mahjong sets, followed by an "Ohoho, lovely!" and two simultaneous shouts.

"Seriously? Don't set a bad example for your student!"

"Don't you dare corrupt our guests, Xiao Xie!"

"Please, this one is just joining in on the fun. Our guests have no problem 'corrupting' themselves, so to speak!"

"Oh, c'mon, it's not gambling if you aren't betting actual money!” Sun Wukong exclaimed. "It's like poker, but…for old people. Right, MK?"

"Um, one problem: I don't know how to play Mahjong! Or poker!" MK said, scratching his head. "The only card game I know is Uno."

"Great! You can just learn it on the fly, then, under the watchful eyes of Professor Sun and Teaching Assistant Nezha!"

"No way, Great Sage. I'm not helping you lure your student astray into a potential lifetime of wasted hours and petty vices."

"Really?" Sun Wukong flashed a taunting smile. "I bet you only said that 'cause you don't wanna lose too badly to me. Again."

"Oh, you take that back right now, monkey!" Nezha jabbed a finger at him. "If we were back in the old days and in a gambling house, you'd be going home in nothing but your undershirt and breeches by the end of the day!"

MK did not miss the implication that, at some point in the past, these two had indeed been to an actual gambling house.

"A bold challenge if I've ever heard one!" Sun Wukong's grin widened. "Or is your bark worse than your bite? Brag all you like, but the only way to prove it is to get on the table yourself."

"I——Screw this, I'm in," Nezha took a deep breath, “But only because it will be quite satisfying, kicking the collective behinds of the two most annoying gods I've ever met." A glare at Sun Wukong, then, at Xie. "So. Get. Ready."

"That's the Third Prince I know!" Sun Wukong gave him a thumbs-up. "Bring it on, lad!"

MK gulped. "Yeah, sorry, I think I'm just gonna watch you guys play first. Get a feel of the game before jumping in. Is that alright?"

"No prob. Though this did put us in the most classic bind in the entire history of Mahjong…" Sun Wukong paused dramatically. "The 'Short of a Fourth' problem."

"That won't be me." Fan immediately said, before walking through the nearest wall. "Still have a job to do." He turned, poking his head out of the wall once more. "But by all means, teach Xiao Xie a lesson for me."

"Ah well." Sun Wukong shrugged, reaching towards his head. "Guess this calls for my clone——"

"No!" Nezha smacked his hand away. "That's just blatant cheating!"

"But literal future vision isn't?"

"Hey, it's not like this one can turn it off." Xie protested. He looked like he wanted to say something else, before Sun Wukong stood up, dashing out of the door and towards the altar room. 

"Guys! We are one person short of a Mahjong game here!" A pause. "Niang Niang? Ah Pek? Datuk? Hello? Anyone up to it?"

"...What's he doing?"

"The divine equivalent of spamming telephone calls." Nezha rolled his eyes. "Yelling into the ears of every deity's idol he can find, and hoping for a response."

"For your knowledge, we have a three-people variant of the game here," Xie added, unhelpfully.

…

Way after Sun Wukong had returned, sulking a little but soon jumped right into arguing with Nezha, MK heard a chime. 

Like someone had just dropped a bunch of coins onto a marble floor, but…louder. Okay, he wasn't too sure about that last part, because if the others heard it too, they did not react to the noise at all.

"It's still not gambling! Just a way to keep the score, yanno?" Sun Wukong continued, tossing a tangerine back and forth between his hands——one he probably pinched from a random altar table on his way back. "Also, the game will be pretty boring if you aren't winning something."

"That's the very definition of gambling." Nezha said, with a deadpan expression. "Wagering money or other stakes in a game of chance."

"It's only a stake if it's something of value, and outside of sentimental ones, these offerings have none." Sun Wukong turned to Xie. "Otherwise you won't give them away to folks for free before they spoil, right?"

"Indeed, for we've already eaten them." 

MK squinted at the fruit; not a single bite mark or patch of peeled skin was found on its exterior.

"Ewww." Sun Wukong grimaced. "Anyways, that just makes them even less valuable and further proves my point."

"Is that supposed to be convincing? Because I'm not taking home a bunch of ghost-eaten fruits even if you give them to me for free——"

"Greetings," someone cleared their throat, then said in a deep, magnetic voice, "Is it you who invited this Zhao to your humble temple for a game, friends?"

The door curtain jingled; in walked a dark-faced man with an impressively bushy beard, clad in gilded black armor and red-gold robes. The only thing that didn't make him as intimidating as he should was the black tiger cub, clinging onto his shoulder pauldron like an oversized housecat.

"Yep, Lao Zhao!" Sun Wukong cheered, "Didn't think you'd have the time, but here you are!" He winked at MK, "Now, ya' ever seen a God of Wealth statue in your Dadsy's store? If you did: this is your guy in the flesh, Zhao Gongming himself."

"Oh yeah! The statue," MK tried his best to recall something that looked like the man, yet the only thing that came to mind was the adorable and totally dissimilar one on the counter. "You mean he's..the cat?"

"Ha! I like your little disciple, Great Sage." Zhao Gongming laughed. "Sadly, no. The only feline here is my steed, Biandan Hua." He pointed to the tiger cub. "In her baby form, so I don't get animal control called on me again. Mortals these days are so easily startled, I swear."

"Aww, that's the cutest name I ever heard." Sun Wukong cooed, earning an unimpressed look from the tiger. "Anyways, since we have our fourth guy here, without further ado, let's begin——"

"A second. I'm here for business too. Serious business," he held up a hand. "Have any of you seen a golden scissor? It's about this size, but becomes a lot bigger when transformed," a gesture, "about the size of a city block. Ah, and it can turn into two flood dragons."

"Nope!"

"Hmm. This one doesn't think so."

"The Golden Dragon Shears?" Nezha’s eyes widened. "How did you lose *that*, Marshal Zhao?!"

"I didn't! It's probably my youngest sister again. Bixiao is still rummaging through our study, so I may as well check in the Lower Realms while she's at it." He said. "Make sure no one has 'borrowed' it without their permission."

"Why are y'all looking at me?" 

Awkward silence ensued, broken immediately by Sun Wukong's indignant huff.

"Okay, first, I'm insulted by your insinuations! You eat a few peaches, and suddenly you are THE suspect whenever something goes missing up there." He shook his head. "Second, you have sisters, Lao Zhao? Huh, never know that."

"Well, unless you are planning to have kids in the immediate future, Great Sage, your paths are unlikely to cross!" Zhao Gongming laughed, before resuming his frown. "Our scissors are far from the only missing treasure, though. Other palaces have also reported similar cases over the last hour. I'll just have to go shake down Spirit Official Ma again——wouldn't be the first time that little candlewick bugger tried to pin his thefts on someone else."

At the mention of Spirit Official Ma, Nezha mouthed something that sounded suspiciously like a swear word. Sun Wukong made a face. 

"Yeah, show that Huaguang brat who's boss! But before that, surely you still have time for a Mahjong game? It'll only be a minute up there." 

"Hmm, I suppose it won't hurt." Zhao Gongming replied, twirling his beard. "But with one condition: no one uses their godly powers."

"Define 'godly powers'?" 

"Anything that requires intent to activate." Zhao Gongming said. "Your golden vision, active divination instead of passive, uncontrollable foresights, my power over fortune..."

A sigh. "I've played enough games where that is allowed. With my disciples it always turns into a teaching session, and playing against my fellow gods of wealth feels more like a power-measuring contest than a true match of skills, especially when Bi Gan was involved." He shook his head. "For a scholarly god of wealth, the old man can be more competitive than us martial ones."

"I feel ya', Lao Zhao. It's always the old geezers who play dirty."

"Hello? Excuse me?" Nezha asked. "Am I the only one who's more concerned about the missing treasure of mass destruction than the silly Mahjong game?!"

"Yes, yes you are." Sun Wukong smirked. "It's just a tiny scissor! What mass destruction can it cause, other than to Art & Crafts materials?"

"Says the blissfully ignorant monkey who has never seen it in action," Nezha retorted, then lowered his head with a defeated look. "Whatever. I don't care anymore. Just don't mention me when the Celestial Host starts pointing fingers and your sisters come knocking, Marshal Zhao."

"You have my words, Third Prince." Zhao Gongming made a fist-and-palm salute, almost jokingly. "For I'm not one to tattle, even if it means enduring Yunxiao's scolding alone. Now, what are the stakes for this game?"

…

After a brief discussion, the four had settled on using some unopened and unoffered snacks as their stakes. Which still didn't beat the gambling allegations, according to Nezha. 

Well, it was better than betting all your belongings on a rigged game and losing them all, at least. And after watching a few rounds of their play, MK's only thought was Dang, if that goldfish demon chose this game back then, he wouldn't even need to cheat to wipe the floor with me.

"You know, if someone tells me I'll be watching the Great Sage, two celestial gods, and a ghost play Mahjong like old people at a community center during the first day of our vacation..." MK mumbled to himself, "I'll probably believe it, actually."

Despite having only the vaguest idea of the rules——whoever completed a set of certain tiles first won the game——and not getting any closer to understanding them, he was determined to keep watching. 

If only because Sun Wukong winked at him right before tossing the dice and starting the round, and he was pretty sure it meant "Watch and learn, bud!" in a way that suggested the message went beyond a simple Mahjong game.

"What you are seeing now is not a typical day for most of us, if that makes you feel less disillusioned." Fan said, without looking up from the documents he was flipping through. 

A while ago, the ghost had returned with a stack of them, and the papers were now floating around him in a ring, suspended by the dark blue glow of telekinesis. If that wasn't the most stylish way of doing paperworks, MK didn’t know what was.

"Uh, but I'm not?" MK said. "It's just…a lot less serious than I thought, this whole 'gods' business, and honestly, I'm not complaining! The Great Sage looks like he’s having a good time too."

Back on the table, Sun Wukong and Nezha yelled "Pong!" at the same time, then immediately glared at each other.

"Hey, I said that first!"

"That doesn’t matter, because you are cheating!" Nezha huffed. "It is impossible for two players to Pong at the same time unless someone has sneaked an extra tile in there while shuffling them, and we all know who that is."

"Well yeah, but I'm just evening the odds in a rigged game, Laodi." Sun Wukong said, eyeing Xie sharply. "For the sake of fairness, I'll allow you to cheat back too. How 'bout that?"

"Good grief, and I thought Master Taiyi was the most unabashed cheater I ever met on the table." Nezha took a deep breath and announced, "New battle objective: show the two cheaters who's boss, without lowering myself to their level."

"Well, this one can't blame the Great Sage for it. Two more turns, and he’ll claim the first win."

"Keep your visions to yourself, ghost!"

"Thanks a lot, Xiao Xie." Sun Wukong grinned. "That gives me even more reason to do it."

A few more turns, a few more clacks, and the monkey was left staring wordlessly at the table.

"Hey, what the heck! Your vision isn't right."

"This one's vision is always right. That, however, isn't one." Xie gave them an innocent look. "It's just the time-honored tactic of 'lying', friend."

"Serve you right for trusting him and cheating." Nezha snorted, before reaching out to claim the discarded tile.

"Why, ya' little——!"

"Credit where credit's due, that sure is a more entertaining use of precognition than the average Dipper Mansion chess game." Zhao Gongming commented, amidst the chaos. "I look forward to what you will bring to the table next, budding little wealth god."

"More bullshit, that's what he'll bring." Fan crossed his arms. "And he wonders why I don't play chess with him anymore."

"Well, I guess it could be worse." MK said. "They could be playing Monopoly."

"What's a Mono-poly?"

"A game that ruins friendships and turns family members against each other. Mei tried introducing her cousins to that during a New Year gathering." MK shuddered. "Some of them still won't talk to her."

"Sounds like it needs to be exorcized." Fan said, without a single hint that he was joking. 

"Please don't."

MK kind of got the impression that he was the "by-the-book" cop of their buddy cop pair, who sounded serious whether he meant it or not, but maybe the kiddy soul would take things just that literally.

Sadly, his clarification ended up killing the conversation. For the next few moments, they just sat side-by-side, listening to the clacking of Mahjong tiles.

And the clacking had intensified, as the game picked up speed. Sun Wukong in particular was speeding up into a blur, fidgeting in his chair, using only one hand to move the tiles while juggling the same poor tangerine with the other.

Now, he was always in motion, gesturing as he talked, grabbing something or the other wherever they went. But the fidgeting had intensified to a point well beyond what MK was used to, which was making him fidgety too.

After a loud "Would you please stop that?" from Nezha, MK finally mustered enough courage to half-prod at Fan——and immediately drew his hand back! Wow, ghosts are freezing to the touch. 

(Okay, he wasn't really touching anything solid, but it felt like reaching into a pocket of sub-zero-degree air, made even more jarring by the heat of summer.)

"Sorry sir, one question." MK asked. "I don't really have a good grip on the rules yet, but is the Great Sage in trouble now? Like, is he losing?"

"No idea. I'm not bored enough to watch and guess their sets." Fan said. "But if you are talking about his hyperactivity, that's not a result of panic."

"Then what’s he doing?"

"He's teaching you how to fight someone with precognition."

"By…acting like a wind-up toy?"

"On the surface level, yes." He answered. "How much do you know about divination?"

To pain. 

No, not that one. MK shook his head wildly. "Next to nothing, I guess."

"Good. You aren't losing out on much." Fan said, before frowning. "I'd rather know less about it, but Xiao Xie just has to be an insufferable prick, so here we are. Essentially, think of Fate like a game of cards, or Mahjong, or whatever game of chance of your liking."

MK chuckled. The idea of Fate being a Uno game was quite a funny one, not gonna lie, if only because he'd get to figuratively shout "Reverse!" at someone.

"The Way is the ruleset, what is allowed and not allowed to happen. The winning and losing conditions. The cards and tiles are the individual events and outcomes, happening to a being as they draw them, one by one."

"To the Dipper Mansion celestials in charge of Fate, divination is like having your master's golden eyes and fiery vision. They can see through the cards and tiles, know what's on them instinctively, and are thus banned from playing, only able to shuffle and deal them out on the Celestial Host's orders."

Zhao Gongming's tiger, having jumped off its master's shoulder long ago, pawed at Sun Wukong's twitching tail. This only egged the monkey on, as they promptly began a game of 'catch my tail if you can' off the table.

"For some," he looked at Nezha, his face a mask of intense concentration, "it isn't so much divination as making snap-second, highly accurate guesses, aided by superb memorization skills. To the more unfortunate mortals, however, it's like seeing recordings of multiple games playing side-by-side, with no way of knowing which one is theirs."

"Lucky for my sworn brother and almost no one else, he can see snippets of a single recording, which just happens to be ours." Fan said. "It's also random, very short-reaching, and makes the part of his soul that bears the brunt of it into a kooky brat with no self-preservation instincts. But I've complained enough. Now that you know how his precognition works, what will you do to counter it?"

"Does not playing the game count?"

"A wise choice. But suppose you don't get to choose."

"I, uh." Think, smartie kid, think! What is the relationship between ultra-hyperactive monkey behavior and beating a ghost with future vision on the Mahjong table? (Oh geez, it's like that one question about ravens and writing desks in that foreign children's book again…)

"I guess I'll make myself, well, unpredictable and even more random?" He finally said, hesitantly.

"Not very specific, but you get the gist of it." Fan nodded. "Going back to my analogy, your master knows his opponent is making a random draw too, except each card he draws allows him to see others claiming or discarding a certain tile."

"So he decides to add more useless cards into the pool. False maneuvers, feints," Fan pointed to the tiger, still pawing at Sun Wukong’s tail, "Artificially creating another game on the side to divert the visions. Nothing can be a hundred percent predictable, not even literal future vision, and if only my partner realized that, he'd be a lot less annoying and not on the way to getting absolutely destroyed in this game."

"Wow. That's very clever and all, but should you really be telling me this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't know much about the Underworld, outside of how Monkey King wrecked the place and scribbled him and his monkeys' name off the Book of Life and Death——" MK waved nervously, "No hard feelings 'bout that, ey? But if the Great Sage is teaching me how to counter you guys, does that mean you'll be going after us at some point in the future?"

"Technically, we'll be going after everyone who isn't an immortal or formally ranked celestial, sooner or later." Fan said. "Your master is firmly in the first category, and for you, that won't be in a long, long time, if it eases your worries."

"Yeah, no. Not at all. Thanks."

"You don't like ghosts very much, do you." He said, then, before MK could reply, added, "Which is fine. We don't like ourselves either."

"Uhhhh, don't be?" Oh gosh, was there really a way to word this without offending ghosts more? "It's not like I dislike you guys! Like, you and the other ghost cops seem pretty chill. It's just, y'know, a bit freaky, seeing the walking reminder of my inevitable mortality and all, ahahaha…"

"It is. And I won't tell you what to feel about that." Fan held up a finger, and the documents he had been reading were instantly sorted into neat little stacks in midair. "But if there is one thing you remember from our conversation, let it be this: no game lasts forever."

"One has to end in order for another to begin, and a game where no one wins or loses is gonna be a very boring one. We, officials of the Ten Courts, are but the keepers of scores, and you don't have to win in order to have fun while it lasts."

"Hu le." Zhao Gongming's calm voice cut through the chit-chat, followed by a light thud of him pushing the tiles over. "Four Kongs."

All eyes were immediately on him.

"By Buddha, Lao Zhao! No wonder you've been so quiet."

"Ugh!" Nezha facepalmed. "I was so close!" He shot a half-hearted glare at Sun Wukong. "This is all your fault, by the way. Without the extra tiles you snuck in there, he'd have never gotten such a rare combination."

"C'mon, maybe he's just that lucky?"

"Very enlightening." Xie hummed, handing over the bag of peach-flavored chips to Zhao. "This one knows he won't be winning the first round, but its certainly a great start!"

"And this is why you don't gamble with a literal, formally ranked, celestial god of wealth." Fan said, after a long, stunned silence. "Even when he isn't actively using his influence, for fairness's sake."

"He's not?"

"If he did, he'd just win every round, and there wouldn't be a game to speak of."

…

They stopped playing when the rain stopped, at which point the sun had already disappeared below the horizon. Zhao Gongming left halfway after getting an astral call from his sisters, shaking his head, giving MK the chance to finally join in. 

Sun Wukong had stopped cheating after that——at least not as blatantly, if Nezha's words were to be believed. To MK, he just settled back into his old laid back attitude, which, in turn, made his own palms less sweaty as he faced off against the other two.

He still lost, badly, only barely managing a win at the very end. Not that it mattered, since Nezha had soundly kicked everyone's butts like he wanted, coming out at the top by a wide margin of three bags of chips and a single Tau Sar Piah.

"Let this be your lesson, Monkie Kid," he said, with a hint of childish glee, "That hard work, knowledge of statistics, and memorization skills will always triumph over luck and a bunch of cheating clowns."

"Ah well. I'll let you have your moment, Laodi, since it's pretty much the only fight you can win against me." Sun Wukong responded with a cheeky smile, then tore open his bag of chips and started munching loudly on them. 

"Yes, keep telling yourself that. Maybe you'll actually start believing in it." Nezha smirked, before standing up from his chair. "I'll just be over here, basking in the glow of victory and trying to not run into my brother on the way back——"

As if on cue, a shout came from outside.

"GREETINGS! This Hui An pays his respect to the City God and his attendants!"

"Annnnnd there goes my good mood." Nezha muttered. A formation started glowing under his feet. "Goodbye. If anyone asks, I've never been here."

Almost immediately after he disappeared in a blaze of pink fire, the speaker outside with the loud, booming, megaphone-against-your-ears voice marched through the doorway.

"Oh. Hi there, Muzha."

"HI THERE, as the younger generation says these days!" The tall man replied cheerfully. The dangling green ties on his hair bun were swaying back and forth, as he made a bow. 

"Heard you yelling into Lady Guanyin's statue a while ago, Great Sage, so I decided to pay a visit. Is my brother here too? Longnü said she saw you two flying together, while weaving the storm clouds with her kins."

"Well, in Nezha's exact words, 'If anyone asks, I've never been here'." Sun Wukong shrugged.  "So no, he is not here." 

"Ah. Embarrassed, I see!" He exclaimed, making his way to the Mahjong table and staring down at the tiles. "He really shouldn't be, though. By my religious vows, I'm supposed to refrain from such worldly pass-times, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be preachy about it!"

Now MK was starting to have an idea of what "Too much" meant. Namely, his complete lack of volume control.

"Well, looks like I've dropped by at a rather inopportune time, so I won't keep you fellows any longer, Great Sage. Thanks for keeping my little brother company, though——"

His sight met MK's, and only then did Muzha seem to notice his presence. "And DEAR ME! Is that your new disciple I've heard so much about? A pleasure to meet you too, young one!"

He reached out for a handshake. MK made the mistake of taking it, and immediately winced. 

"Oww, owww——Nice to meet you too?!"

"Please stop crashing my disciple's hand, Muzha."

"Sorry, sorry!" He laughed, releasing his iron grip at last. "It's just so wonderful to see the juniors coming into their own, I get a bit carried away. Still, this acolyte looks forward to working with you in the days to come!"

"Man, we are busy here today, aren't we?" Xie commented, just as the overly cheerful and loud immortal made a turn and headed for the backdoor. "So many visitors. Not that this one is complaining."

"...Yeah." MK agreed, after awkwardly waving Muzha goodbye.

Well, one thing was certain: godhood internship or not, he'd sure have one hell of a story to tell once he got back home.

[kylesons]

Better Bee Boxes

I really like playing with gardening and farming in my saves, but with all of the micromanaging that comes with tending to chickens, cows, horses, plants, llamas, goats, and so on... I don't have time for my sims to keep trying to schmooze with the bee box over and over just so they don't get stung for daring to be in their proximity whilst the hive is vaguely irritated. Owch! There used to be a mod that sped up the bee bonding process, but it hasn't been updated since 2018... I looked into updating it myself, saw that it was rather easy, and added some of my own tweaks while I was at it. So here I present... Better Bee Boxes! Yay!

FEATURES

Instantly max friendship with bees — no more need to spam the interaction and get stung 500 times just to befriend bees. yeesh!

Instantly calm down bees when agitated — we're friends, quit stinging me and give me my honey!

Faster honey production — before, bee boxes would take around 8-10 sim hours to become full. with this mod, it takes about 2 hours to become partially full, and 4 hours until full. more honey, more fun!

Faster & more beeswax production — having to wait several sim days for one measly cube of beeswax seemed a little silly to me. I wanted to make this more viable for candlemaking, so I upped the production timer to 3 beeswax every 10 sim hours. a little less cheaty than the honey production, but makes things feel a little more streamlined.

Honey Please! cheat — just for fun. adds a cheat interaction to instantly fill bee boxes with the maximum amount of honey. why, you may ask? well, why not?

NOTES

All features are available as individual files, so you can pick and choose which ones you want! There's also an all-in-one file. Make sure you use one version or the other, not both! (Unless you're a fan of causing potential problems with your saves, then don't let me stop you...)

The "Honey Please!" cheat re-enables a maxis debug cheat to fill the bee boxes, and comes with a string override that changes the default "20+ honey" label for the interaction. It's only available in english for now.

No bees were harmed or exploited for their labor in the making of this mod. They were given proper compensation for their increased efficiency, as well as extra vacation days, professional massages, and a complimentary buffet.

DOWNLOAD HERE [google drive] (always free/no adfly!) ✅ Compatible with patch 1.108+ (8/8/24)

Compatibility notes & list of xml used available under the cut.

Compatibility:

This mod will probably conflict with anything that touches the tuning data for bee boxes. ‼️Calm Bees by LittleMsSam is technically incompatible, as this mod does the same thing, so don't use my mod alongside hers. Nothing catastrophic should happen to your game if you do, but some interactions may be missing. ‼️This mod requires the SEASONS expansion pack!

XML Used:

[the-froschamethyst4]

Some Fun in the Sun

𖤐Pairing: Alejandro x Wife! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, sexual theme, semipublic, P in V, fingering, harassment, language, jealousy, slight breeding kink, caught

Going to the beach for a relaxing vacation with your husband Alejandro is all you could really ask for

There’s just something about watching your husband have a good time while you tan and enjoy the sun and water

Nothing like watching your hot husband enjoy the salty water, rough sand, sound of the ocean and sound of your moans calling his name

———————

———————

"ALEJANDRO, COME ON ALL THE SPOTS ON THE BEACH WILL BE FILLED AND WE WON'T GET A GOOD SPOT!!" Y/n yelled, she was packing a bag full of snacks, drinks and beach stuff.

She grabbed two towels for her and Alejandro and placed them in the bag.

"Alejandro, come on!"

"I'm right here, don't shout," he said as he was behind Y/n, he had on black swim trucks and a white sleeveless shirt.

"Oh, well come on," she grabbed the bag, but Alejandro took it off her shoulders.

Y/n smiled at her husband and grabbed the keys to their Beach House and walked on the hot sand to find a good spot. She looked at him as if it was a good spot for them.

"Is this good?"

"Yep," he placed the bag on the sand and started to put the umbrella up and Y/n placed her towel on the sand and started to rub in the sunscreen, but couldn't reach her back, she took the sunscreen and gave it to Alejandro to let him help her.

He rubbed it in her back and then down to her lower back.

"Should I get here?" He asked, touching her sides that were exposed due to her bikini bottoms.

"Yes, please," she said as Alejandro started to squeeze the sunscreen in his hands and rubbed it in. He brought his hands into her bottoms and started to rub them on her sides.

She got chills down her spine as his hands were on her sides.

"Alejandro-"

"You have some soft sides, mi amor," he coos in her ear.

"I-I think that's enough," she grabs his wrist, and he just whines about his hands being moved from his wife's body. "You'll get to touch me later," she says.

"Fine," he groans as he rubbed the sunscreen into his body, and she helped him with rubbing it in his back as well.

Alejandro darted to the water and jumped in. Y/n smiled and joined him in the water. Alejandro smiled and splashed the water on Y/n, she giggled as she splashed the water on him too.

Alejandro dove and picked up Y/n, she giggled and smiled down at him.

"Alejandro." She giggles.

---------

Y/n was back on shore and was trying to tan. She grabbed her book that she has been reading for some time now. She was on her stomach and turned the pages once done with that page, she hummed a soft tune as she looked over her shoulder every now and then to see if Alejandro is okay.

He sat on the sand with a beer in his hands. He watched the waves crash again the sand, people having fun and enjoying the sun and water.

"WATCH OUT!!" Y/n sat up quickly, grabbing her book and a volleyball landed in front of her.

Alejandro looked over his shoulder seeing Y/n hold her book and looked at the guy who threw the ball. He kept a close eye on the guy and his wife.

"Can...I have that back?" The guy asked Y/n with a smirk on his face.

"Yeah," she put her bookmark in between the pages and gave him the ball back.

Alejandro felt fire rush through him when he saw the guy barely touch his wife's fingers. He ran off back to the game with a bunch of that guy's friends, Y/n grabbed her book and continued to read it.

Alejandro got up off the sand and walked to his wife and bend down next to her, she looked up when she saw him.

"Hi," she smiled.

He just ignored her but...he grabbed a water bottle out of the cooler, he also grabbed an ice cube, and he placed it between Y/n's shoulders blades.

She shot up and the ice cube flew off her back and she looked at him.

"What was that!?"

"An ice cube...I saw how that guy looked at you...he looked down at your chest and he touched your fingers."

"But I was giving him his ball back...it wasn't like I was flirting with him," she said, looking up in his eyes. "I'm not looking for another guy...I have you...and only you," she wraps her arms around his neck and sat on his lap, his hands landed on her ass, they were cold, and she got shivers down her spines.

"H-Hey your h-hands are c-cold," her teeth chatters.

"Yeah, I know," he teased.

Alejandro then kissed her collarbone and his hands roamed all around her body.

His hand swiftly went down in her bikini bottoms, his fingers started to insert into her clit, moving them in and out her slowly. He then kissed her lips, he opened his eyes and looked passed Y/n.

Two old ladies kept giving them the stank eye and he just rolled his eyes and pulled away.

He pulled his fingers out of her. "We should go somewhere else," he said getting up and helping her up as well.

"Why? We can't leave our stuff..."

"Sure, we can, there's people around," he said, kissing her cheek.

He opened a changing room, and he pushed her inside the room and closed the curtain behind them, he pushed her against the wall and picked her up, he kissed her neck, collarbone and lips.

"A-Alejandro-"

"Shhhhh amor, we don't want people hearing us," he said as he now flipped her around and pushed himself against her. She could feel his hardened dick against her lower back.

"...Ale...just...put it in, now," she begged.

"Naturally," he smirked, he fished his cock out and she pulled her bottoms down. He pushed himself inside of her and started to thrust inside of her.

"Ahhh!!" She quickly covered her mouth. He squeezed her hips; he chuckled and went a little faster.

"Go on amor...scream...scream my name," he whispered in her ear.

"B-But w-what if p-people hear u-us? L-Like you s-said-AAHHH!" She covers her mouth.

"Scream it...now!" He said, slamming her from the back. She slowly moved her hand off her mouth and rested her hands against the wall of the changing room.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" She gripped the other curtains in front of her. "Ahhhlejandro!" She moans.

"Too long...call me Papi," he smirks.

"MmmAHHHh~! P-Papi~!" She moans.

"That's better," he smirks against her skin before laying a small kiss on her neck. Alejandro then swatted at her butt earning another moan from her.

He lifted her leg up getting inside of her, she moaned and gripped the curtains. "God, you are so fucking s-sexy, amor...just the thought of you c-carrying my k-kids in your stomach makes me weak. I-I want to be there when you n-need me. When y-you need me to take care of the babies...I...I was thinking...four maybe...five? Six?"

"I-I think j-just two fits u-us, papi..." She is able to moan out. "Ahhh!"

"Let m-me cum i-inside of you," he moans.

"Do it...d-do it, now," she moans.

Alejandro felt himself and you about to cum. He was so close to coming inside of her.

"HEY, GET OUT, THERE'S OTHER PEOPLE WHO NEED TO CHANGE! YOU CAN'T BE HOGGING THE CHANGING ROOM!!" Someone yelled from behind the curtain.

"GIVE US A MINUTE!!" Alejandro yelled back.

"I'M CALLING THE COPS IF YOU DON'T LEAVE!!"

"CALL'EM!!"

"ALEJANDRO!!" Y/n yells slightly hitting him in the arm. "Don't...DON'T DO THAT, WE'LL GET OUT!!" Y/n yells.

"I'm not done," Alejandro groans.

"I'm not either but we can do it at home...not here..." He pulls out and grabs his trunks and helped Y/n.

"Sorry," Alejandro said as he grabbed Y/n's hand and they went back to their stuff where everything was still there, nothing looking missing.

"See...everything is still here," Alejandro said. He was being grumpy all because he didn't finish inside of her. She could just tell he was grumpy and pouty.

"Come on, Ale...let's go home," she said as they packed up everything and headed home together.

-----------

Alejandro was hitting her from behind and enjoying her moaning and screaming his name and even creaming on his cock.

"F-Fuck me," Y/n moans as Alejandro finished inside of her again.

He pulls out and lays on their bed together. She cuddled up to Alejandro and kissed his lips.

"So...should we take a shower?" She asked touching the cum leaking from her lower half.

"Of course," he smirks.

[nodawnesperia]

Can you give more information for Eugene and the twin, Lucilla and Liberta?

Character Profile: Eugene

Starting with the second ask, this one will take a bit to fully get through since it has three characters but I'll do my best to deliver anyway! Enjoy a bit of Eugene and a continuation of Gavus' story!

Name: Eugene

Age at the time of the Barred Gate breaking: ???

Current age: ???

Affiliation: Hypogean (?)

Appearance: Eugene hasn't truly changed much from his canon appearance. The Trickster's Cube was taken from him after Liberta and Lucilla were old enough to fend for themselves and while that certainly bothers him, he really isn't in a position to fight that decision. Underneath his clothes, his back is littered with scars. He also wears two bracelets, one black and red on his right hand, and one white and gold on his left. Liberta and Lucilla originally gave the white and gold one to Gavus but the Celestial entrusted it to Eugene to hold onto.

Personality: While he may be a Hypogean, Eugene is more concerned with chasing whatever he finds interesting. However, he doesn't pursue his interests with the cruelty and sadism typical of others of his race. In fact, Eugene has an outstanding sense of justice and cares for those who cannot help themselves.

Backstory: "Hey there! Missed me?" The voice echoed through the mine making Kadrin jump. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he glared at the Hypogean trying to seem casual as he leaned against the wall. Of course, the facade fell apart as soon as one of the large gashes on his shoulder came in contact with the frigid rock. It was a surprise to see him here but for anyone who knew him as well as Kadrin did, it was more about how he got caught rather than why he would be sent. "A Hypogean who isn't a guard in the mines? What did you do this time?" He could tell Eugene appreciated his attempt at a joke. He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Oh, you know, got a little bored up on the surface, babysitting two little devils and dealing with an annoying pigeonhead. Thought I'd take a vacation." "Horrible taste in location," Kadrin muttered, taking Eugene's arm and slinging it over his shoulder as he helped him walk deeper into the mine shaft. They'd only get in trouble if they continued chatting away for much longer. Once the patrols passed them, Kadrin quickly took them down a side tunnel not illuminated by the magical crystals abundant in the main shaft. He laid Eugene down and quickly opened his waterskin, pouring some of the warm water onto a piece of cloth. Sure, Eugene probably wouldn't die from these wounds but they couldn't have been pleasant either. "No need for that," the Hypogean weakly tried to shrug him off, "I just need a little nap and I'll be right as rain in no time..." "Save the heroics for someone who cares." He had no patience to deal with Eugene's theatrics. And luckily, the Hypogean didn't protest. Kadrin worked in silence for a bit but quickly noticed his friend was starting to fall asleep. "Hey, don't do that. If the guards find you here asleep, you'll get beaten even more." Eugene sighed but shook off the fatigue as best as he could. Kadrin could now make out that some of his wounds appeared to have been cauterized and made a face at the realization. "How'd you managed to piss off the other Hypogean commander too?" Eugene let out a weak chuckle. "You know me, I'm charming like that. Though it's still Conrad's fault. That old brute can't let things go..." "Wasn't that the whole reason Annih had you two fight in the first place?" Plopping down to sit once Eugene's wounds were at least somewhat cleaned, Kadrin offered Eugene some of the stale bread in his pouch – a gesture that his fellow prisoner much appreciated. "Yeah, well, seems like I was the only one who got that. Doesn't surprise me he didn't." Eugene muttered while stuffing his face like a starving man... Which he probably was. "Somehow caught wind of Gavus, showed up with Kane, and the rest is history. By the way, your cooking sucks." The dwarf elbowed him in the stomach, though not as hard as he would've had Eugene been alright. "Be glad I'm splitting it with you at all. That was my rations for two whole days what you just scarfed down." He remained silent for a bit before asking the obvious question. "And where is he?" Eugene pulled a face like he bit into a sour grape. "Who can tell at this point? I hope he was smart enough to get away. Maybe reunite with the kids or something. Then they could come bust us out of here." Kadrin was about to ask for something more when a figure stepped into the entrance to their little hiding spot. The guard cracked his whip and they both knew better than to push their luck even more. Kadrin heaved a sigh as he grabbed his pickaxe. He threw one last look at Eugene before heading off in the direction of his next workstation. He hoped Eugene was wrong. He hoped those three would be smarter than that.

[violet-1atte]

Kinktober Day Fifteen: Temperature play - Seungmin/Changbin

Tags: handjobs, teasing, mild exhibitionism, light dom/sub undertones

AO3 Link

Seungmin was really glad Chan had rich parents. During the summer, he never had to question where he would live or where he would vacation because Chan and his parents always had something planned for him and all their friends. This summer, it was a retreat at some fancy house right near the beach. It was a perfect summer vacation spot, and the best part was, Seungmin didn’t have to pay for anything. 

The only issue was, it was hot. He was mostly fine with the heat, but his friend Changbin, was not. They were both sitting outside by the pool (a very large one at that), and all their friends were out doing something else. Seungmin and Changbin had decided to stay back and just chill, but Seungmin could already feel his irritation growing towards the older. Despite the fact that he had stayed partially because Changbin was staying. What? He had eyes and he knew that Changbin would likely be relaxing all day shirtless. Sue him.

But no matter how attractive he was, or how much Seungmin may-or-may-not have a crush on him, this was getting ridiculous. 

“It’s so hot,” Changbin groaned, complaining about the heat for the nth time. 

“You could go inside, you know,” Seungmin said back, rolling his eyes. “There is air conditioning in the house. You chose to be out here.” 

Changbin pouted as he fanned himself with a magazine. “But I wanted to be outside. And it’s not even cool enough inside. I just wish there was a breeze. Then it’d be so nice,” he sighed. Seungmin felt his eye twitch. 

“Why not go swimming?” Seungmin asked. Earlier he may have asked the same question just for the possibility that he could see Changbin with wet hair and water droplets running down his built chest and soft tummy. But no one had to know that. 

“ Because ,” Changbin started, his voice taking on a hint of a whine. “Then I’d have to get wet. And I’d have to get changed and that’s just too much effort.” 

Seungmin tongued his cheek and huffed through his nose. “Well, stop complaining then. If you’re not gonna do anything about it.” 

Changbin let out a gasp of mock offense. “Yah! Don’t speak to your hyung like that,” he said, waving his finger. Seungmin had to fight to keep his deadpan expression, a smile threatening to come out. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually my dongsaeng,” Seungmin said with a sigh. He stood up as Changbin made sounds of protest at his comment. Seungmin smiled smugly to himself as he turned to walk inside. “I’m getting a drink.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to tell Changbin what he was doing but he did anyway. 

He made his way inside to the abnormally large kitchen of the house and went to the cupboard to grab a glass. They had one of those fancy refrigerators that had an ice and a water dispenser that Seungmin had never had the pleasure of owning. He had to admit it was convenient though. He pressed the button on the ice dispenser and filled his cup up with exactly five ice cubes. He was about to open the fridge to steal the last of the lemonade when a lightbulb went off in his head. He looked down at the ice in his cup and the corners of his lips twitched. 

“It’s too hot, you say? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind being cooled down a bit then,” Seungmin whispered. He snickered and rather than getting a drink like he said he was going to, he filled his cup up the rest of the way with ice and made his way back out. 

This was probably the most childish prank Seungmin had ever come up with, but what was life without a little silly fun? He’d startle Changbin when he wasn’t paying attention by rubbing the ice on him. He’d get to hear Changbin screech and he’d get his revenge for having to hear Changbin complain about the heat for the last hour. 

To his great delight, Changbin was leaning forward in his chair, eyes locked on his phone as he scrolled through some social media Seungmin probably didn’t have. He tried not to focus on the strong muscles of Changbin’s back and the broadness of his shoulders as he walked over. Ogling Changbin was not his mission. 

He hovered behind Changbin for a second as he carefully got a handful of ice out of the cup, the slight twitching of his lips turning into a full-blown smile. The ice in his cup made a slight sound and Changbin glanced back at him. “What’s up?” he asked curiously. Seungmin couldn’t keep the smile off his face. 

“Oh you know…I just thought I’d help you cool off.” 

Changbin’s eyebrows furrowed and his face scrunched in confusion. “Huh? How–”

Seungmin didn’t wait another second and instead of responding, he pressed his handful of ice to Changbin’s back. The contrast between the heat of summer and the freezing temperature of the ice would surely get Changbin to jump. 

And it did, but he didn’t make the sound Seungmin had been expecting. The smile on Seungmin’s face slowly melted as instead of screeching or yelping like Seungmin expected Changbin to do, he moaned. He outright moaned . 

Seungmin was frozen, Changbin was frozen. The ice slipped from Seungmin’s palm and slid down Changbin’s back, clattering on the ground. Changbin’s cheeks were already crimson and his chest was heaving. Seungmin swallowed as he watched Changbin lick his lips and clench his fists. “Um…that…” 

“You–” Seungmin started, scrambling to find the brain cells to respond. “Did you just fucking moan ?” 

Changbin went redder, the color spreading down his neck. “I—no?” 

Maybe it was the heat, maybe the weather was making him go insane, but something took over Seungmin and he scoffed. “Yes you did . I heard it. I put ice on your back and you moaned. Like definitely, one-hundred percent did.” 

Changbin wet his lips again and he curled in on himself a little bit. “Okay? And what? Are you gonna make fun of me, Seungmin-ah?” 

Seungmin could be mean, but he’d never be that mean. Besides, he had no desire to do that anyway. Instead, there was a growing pool of heat in his belly and all he wanted was to hear that sound again. “No. I’d never make fun of you like that, hyung,” he reassured him, voice soft for a second. But then his gaze darkened. “What I really want to know is if I can get you to make that sound again.” 

Changbin looked like all the gears in his brain had stopped working. First he went totally still and then his eyes widened, followed by his eyebrows raising. “You–huh?” 

“Tell me to back off and I’ll back off,” Seungmin said. “I won’t do anything you don’t want, but you’re really fucking hot even if you’re a little shit sometimes. And I want to hear you make those sounds again,” he restated. 

Changbin wet his lips, eyes still wide. “You–you like me?” he asked. 

“We can dig into it later,” Seungmin said, already feeling a little desperate. A little deranged. Changbin looked far too good, half naked and flushed, staring up at him with wide eyes. He was practically praying Changbin would say that he was okay with something happening now because he could already feel his shorts stretching uncomfortably. “But right now I need you to tell me. Is this okay?” He stepped up to Changbin and rested his hand against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He stroked his neck with his thumb and Changbin shuddered. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good with it. I’m good with anything. I’ve–fuck you’re so hot Seungmin-ah I’ve always–” Seungmin didn’t let him finish his sentence, instead surging forward and capturing his lips in a kiss. Changbin gasped against his mouth and Seungmin smiled into the kiss at his response. He settled into Changbin’s lap and was pleased to find that Changbin’s cock was semi-hard underneath him. He gave a slight roll of his hips and Changbin whimpered. Seungmin’s head spun. 

The gentle grip he had on Changbin’s neck turned firmer as he kissed him, changing from a simple brush of his palm to a squeeze. Changbin moaned as Seungmin dug his fingers into the back of his neck. The sound went straight to Seungmin’s cock and in response he licked along Changbin’s bottom lip. His reaction was immediate, perfect, soft lips parting for Seungmin to thrust his tongue inside. He tasted sweet and a little citrusy, probably from drinking lemonade earlier. Seungmin moved his hand from Changbin’s neck to cup his jaw and he guided him to tilt his head so he could kiss him deeper. He felt like he was melting, sweat dripping down the sides of his face from the summer heat and the flames that Changbin’s kisses were igniting in him. 

When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected their lips. Seungmin took a deep breath as he looked over Changbin, who already looked completely debauched. It was clear he was hot too, judging by the way his curls were sticking to his forehead. It only served to make him look more attractive and fucked out. 

“Minnie,” Changbin whispered, licking his lips. Seungmin brushed his thumb over his bottom lip. 

“I thought you’d be a good kisser,” Seungmin mused. “Especially with those lips.” Changbin whined and it sounded like when Seungmin had pressed the ice to his back. The ice . What had started this whole thing. Seungmin smirked as he got an idea. “Stay there.” He moved off Changbin’s lap, ignoring his sounds of protest as he went to pick up the cup. Some of the ice had melted but there were still a few big chunks left. Perfect. 

“What are you getting those for?” Changbin asked, trying to mask his interest. 

Seungmin rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh come on. You know. You liked when I rubbed that ice on your back, didn’t you Binnie?” he asked, tone turning condescending. “I bet that’s why you were being so annoying earlier. You just wanted my attention. You wanted me to do something like this, isn’t that right?” 

Changbin’s mouth opened as he struggled to find something to say. Seungmin just laughed as he stood over him. “Cute. Your mouth was working so well earlier complaining about the heat. Can’t say much now, huh?” 

“I–I can!” Changbin managed to protest but it came out weak and whiny. Seungmin clenched his jaw. 

“Well, right now, there’s only one sound I want you to be making. And it isn’t talking.” He grabbed Changbin’s jaw and kissed him again, brief but deep. “I want you to sit back in this chair so I can take care of you. Help you cool off a bit. How’s that sound, hyung ?” Seungmin asked, tilting his head. 

Changbin gulped and nodded, leaned back so that his back rested against the back of the chair. Seungmin took a moment to admire Changbin’s sculpted upper body. His pecs could well be considered breasts by now and his arms looked like they could crush someone’s skull. They probably could. He loved how all his muscle melted into a soft tummy that gave way to a gentle fold as he sat back. Oh, Seungmin wanted to ruin him in so many ways. 

“I hope this is cold enough for you,” he said with a hum. He slipped a piece of ice into his hand and then pressed it to Changbin’s chest, just below his collarbones. A full body shiver shook Changbin to his very core and he bit his lip to hold back a moan. Seungmin frowned and used his free hand to tug his lip from his teeth. “This whole thing started ‘cause a little ice made you moan. I want to hear you, so stop that.” 

“But–but what if someone hears,” he said, looking off to the side nervously. 

“No one’s gonna hear. Everyone’s gone and they won’t be back for a bit. It’s just you and me, Bin. So relax,” Seungmin said lowly. He began rubbing the ice down his chest, eyes glued to how the melting water ran down between Changbin’s pecs. Changbin was already shivering even though before he’d been complaining about how hot it was. The contrast between the heat and the cold made anything he felt that much more intense. 

“You like that?” Seungmin asked. He slid the ice over the curve of Changbin’s pec and then circled his nipple with the ice cube. Changbin gasped and his back arched. 

“S’cold,” he muttered, already sounded breathless. Seungmin took a glance down and noticed the prominent tent in his boxers. He smirked down at him and rubbed the ice over Changbin’s nipple. Changbin inhaled sharply and shifted away from the cold but Seungmin grabbed his shoulder. 

“Uh-uh, I thought you wanted to be cooler,” Seungmin said. He tilted his head as he looked down at Changbin. He lifted his hand from his shoulder and cupped Changbin’s cheek. “Aish, your face is still so warm, hyung. You definitely need this.” 

Changbin exhaled shakily as Seungmin continued moving the ice over his nipple. The bud was hard now and goosebumps were beginning to erupt all over his skin. The ice was beginning to melt, cold water running down Changbin’s chest in little droplets. His chest heaved as Seungmin circled his nipple with the ice again and followed the motion by a flick of his finger. A moan spilled from his mouth and Seungmin grinned. “You’re so sensitive, Binnie-hyung. Who would’ve thought you’d be this responsive…” 

“St-stop making fun of me,” Changbin whimpered. 

“I’m not making fun of you. It’s cute.” He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Changbin’s ear. “And I like it.” 

More blood rushed to his cock when Changbin shivered and whimpered in the back of his throat in response. Fuck, he was going to be the death of him. 

The ice cube he had was melting, so he reached to grab more, this time grabbing two. Changbin held his breath as Seungmin looked him over. He took a second to decide what to do next, then pressed the ice cubes to both of Changbin’s nipples. His mouth fell open in a loud moan and his entire body tensed. Seungmin’s breath hitched when Changbin’s cock actually twitched in his shorts. “You have such pretty responses, hyung,” he said, trying to keep how affected he was out of his voice. But it was basically impossible with how hot Changbin looked and how pretty his moans were. 

He played with Changbin’s sensitive nipples a little more, crouching down so that he could start kissing Changbin’s neck. The way Changbin shivered and mewled as he pressed kisses to his hot skin ignited the sparks in Seungmin’s stomach. It was hard to tell if Changbin was shivering because of his touches or because of the ice Seungmin was sliding over his skin. Seungmin would be pleased with either option. 

“Never had someone so sensitive before,” Seungmin mumbled against his skin as he ran one of the ice cubes down from Changbin’s chest to his stomach. He felt the muscles contract under his hand and Changbin whimpered as another shudder wracked his body. Seungmin grinned and grazed his teeth over his pulse point before pulling back. 

Changbin’s nipples were red and a little puffy from the cold of the ice and his chest was shining in the sun from the water left behind from the ice. Seungmin could see the goosebumps all over his skin and his fists were clenched tightly by his sides as he tried to keep himself from shivering. “Please, Seungmin,” Changbin breathed, and Seungmin only noticed then how red and swollen his lips were from biting them. Arousal boiled hot in his stomach. “I’m so hard I–I need you to touch me.” 

Seungmin was going to pass out. He still couldn’t believe this was happening. “I’ve been touching you,” he said, acting oblivious. “Where should I touch you next?” Seungmin ran the ice up Changbin’s side and smirked when he moaned and his skin twitched. “Here?” He slid the ice over his tummy and grinned. “Or here?” He ran the ice over the outline of Changbin’s cock through his shorts and Changbin jerked, moaning wantonly. 

“Fuck, there!” he gasped, hips lifting off the chair to meet Seungmin’s touches. “There, there, please–”

“Well, you are asking so nicely. I’m glad you learned to use your words for something better than complaining,” Seungmin said. He dropped the ice he was currently holding, those pieces also having mostly melted away. There were only a few whole cubes left in the cup, the rest having melted in the sun. 

He hooked his fingers in Changbin’s shorts and tugged them down, arousal twisting his insides as Changbin’s cock bobbed up, red and so hard. Seungmin’s mouth watered. Changbin was big and thick and Seungmin probably wouldn’t be able to fit him in his mouth but he’d sure love to try. Maybe some other time. If there was another time. 

“You have a nice cock,” Seungmin said, kneeling down between Changbin’s knees. Changbin whimpered and his dick twitched, a small bead of precum leaking from the tip. “Cute.” Seungmin grinned, grabbing one of the last ice cubes and placing it in his palm. “This should really cool you off.” 

He chuckled as he wrapped his hand around Changbin’s cock, pressing the ice to the shaft. Changbin’s hips snapped up, effectively making Seungmin’s hand slide down, ice still pressed against his heated skin. High pitched moans fell from his mouth as Seungmin began pumping his cock. Even biting his lip couldn’t stop the litany of sounds that traveled up his throat with every twist of his hands. His muscles contracted and shook from the shivers going through his body, the freezing cold against him making it impossible to stop.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Seungmin muttered, biting his own lip. He was becoming very aware of his own hardness, his arousal practically painful at this point. Every sound Changbin made went straight to his cock. 

As he jerked Changbin off, he reached between his own legs and began to palm his own dick. The friction caused him to moan softly and that seemed to make Changbin react even more strongly to the next flick of his wrist. “ Nghhh fuh-uck, Seungmin, Seungmin, ‘s’too much,” he moaned. The muscles in his thick thighs tensed along with his tummy. Seungmin groaned, slipping his hand into his own boxers. 

“You can take it,” he said. He rolled the ice over the tip of Changbin’s cock and he cried out. His fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles were white. 

“I ca-can’t–hnnggg, Seungmin , Minnie, please,” he whimpered. Seungmin hummed, not trusting his own voice at the moment. He twisted his hand down Changbin’s shaft again and then moved to play with his balls, running the ice over them. Changbin keened and Seungmin bit his lip, pumping his own cock faster. 

“You gonna come for me, Binnie?” Seungmin asked, his voice hoarse from arousal. Changbin whimpered in response, nodding his head. 

“Mmm–mhm,” Changbin managed. Seungmin licked his lips and grinned, going back to running the ice over Changbin’s cock. 

“Alright then, come for me.” 

“Ohh fuck, fuck.” Changbin didn’t need to be told twice, his hips thrusting up as Seungmin’s ran the ice along the underside of his cock. He spasmed and cum spilled from his cock, covering Seungmin’s hand. Some of it hit Seungmin’s face and he groaned, speeding up the movements of his hand on his cock. “Wan-wanna see you come,” Changbin stuttered, his voice small. 

Seungmin groaned and closed his eyes as he pumped his cock. “Fuck–shit, you have no idea how hot you are.” He didn’t even realize how close he had been, so it didn’t take much longer for him to come all over his own hand. 

He was panting when he finished and entirely too hot. The sun was beating down on him and Changbin was looking down at him, dazed. “Wow,” he mumbled and Seungmin chuckled. 

“Wow is right,” he agreed. He stood up on shaky legs, cringing a little at the fact his hands were covered in cum. “Hey…how’s a cold shower sound?” he asked, tilting his head with a smirk. Changbin’s cheeks reddened. 

“Uh…maybe keep it a little warm.” 

[sundove88]

Can ya give me some headcannons on each of the watchers?

In general:

They have a hankering for hot and piping foods!

They all see each other as a found family.

Whenever Dark Cacao falls sick, they often bring him blankets and stuff like that so he can feel better.

Caramel Arrow:

She has an entire pile of empty boba cups at the bottom of her watchtower.

She does 10 push ups, 10 sit ups, 10 pull ups, and an entire 5 mile run each day.

She was the one who suggested the idea of the boba machine for her and the watchers’ vacation home.

Crunchy Chip:

His accompanying Cream Wolf has the name of Snowball!

When he was just a baby, he was raised by Cream Wolves- yes, actual Cream Wolves.

He has a plush of a rice cake hound that he carries everywhere for good luck.

Second Watcher/Choco Chunk:

He’s Caramel Arrow’s dad. Enough said.

He taught her how to wield a bow and arrow when she was just a little girl.

He’s got that dad bod from eating so much comfort food over the years!

Bittersweet Dark Cacao Watcher/Bittersweet Coffee:

She enjoys gardening in The Cookie Kingdom, and can walk on a tightrope without fail.

Her favorite hobby is probably writing in her diary and creating beautiful art.

Since she is from the Coffee Tribe, she’s also a skilled baker!

Sugary Dark Cacao Watcher/Swirl Choco:

Just like Choco Chunk, he has a dad bod as well! But he’s also scared of heights.

Cow Choco and Candy Melt (Young Cookie From The Mountains) are his kids.

He also enjoys doing embroidery and making beautiful patterns on pillows.

Swift Dark Cacao Warrior/Cow Choco:

One of his favorite sports is soccer, and he is pretty skinny for a watcher his age.

Whenever he visits the Cookie Kingdom, he tries his best to find healthy options.

He often turns to Gianduja for advice when things get muddy.

Cautious Dark Cacao Watcher/Gianduja Choco:

The eldest of the watchers, and everyone sees him as a grandpa or dad- especially Bittersweet Coffee.

The other watchers and even Dark Cacao turn to him for friendly advice.

Despite his age, he’s still as strong as he was when in his youth!

Gatekeeper Cookie/Couverture Choco:

Arguably the chubbiest of the Watchers, and probably one of the fattest cookies on Earthbread.

Whenever the weather gets cold outside, he often lets the other watchers cuddle up to him.

And he’s actually got quite the gut when his armor is removed!

Peanut Butter Choco:

He’s childhood friends with Cow Choco, and both of them enjoy playing video games from time to time.

His favorite food is spicy peanut noodles, which is obvious.

He is a surprisingly good gymnast, and can often squeeze into tight spots.

Cube Choco:

The second eldest of the watchers, and he often likes to comb out his beard.

He also loves being called Grandpa or dad by the other Watchers.

He loves making beautiful toys in his spare time for the kids of the Dark Cacao Kingdom.

[rowiewritesstuff]

Hello! I saw you were taking requests and I was wondering if you could write a fic or a small prompt in T.F.P. where the human!reader is new to the team and is very outgoing and flirty but shy around her curhses and she becomes friends with her teammates as an agent herself? Maybe O.P. becomes smitten after a while with her? Hmmm? And everyone just notices and teases them about being a couple when they aren't, but they're both in denial and drunk shenanigans ensue with the reader being drunk and flirty towards him and teasing him? ^^ You can always add anything new of course! I got this idea when reading fluff and the song "Moves Like Jagger" kind of reminded me of the potential dynamic? Especially, the- "Take me by the tongue And I'll know you Kiss til you're drunk And I'll show you"

TFP Optimus Prime X Flirty! Reader

Mentions of Drinking Alcohol! 

Hope this is okay lol

Fowler had brought you into the fold simply out of desperation- the poor man just wanted to take a vacation and all of the paperwork prevented him from doing so. He knew that while you weren’t always professional, you were the best damn agent they had.

When you were introduced to the bots, the first thing you said to Optimus was “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” while winking.

Agent Fowler immediately face palmed. 

You became quick friends with pretty much all of the bots. Arcee because of your war stories, Bulkhead because you always had time for his ‘stupid’ questions, Ratchet because of your aptitude for Cybertronian medicine, and Bumblebee because you were just generally friendly. Optimus was hard to make friends with at first because of his reserved personality, but you both discovered your shared love for reading.  

You and Optimus often read books at the same time and talked about them- like a book club, but just for the two of you. For someone who takes almost nothing seriously, you are very intelligent. He sees why you are one of the best agents.

While they all became friends quickly, that didn’t mean they supported your flirting. You would often flirt to ease an awkward silence, or lighten the dark mood that so often sets on the base. 

There was a great victory against the Decepticons- a mine was taken right from under their noses which led to a lot being added to their reserves. Some of the energon was of a higher concentration- to which you learned was called high grade. 

Optimus noticed that the morale in the base was low, despite getting a great win against their foes. This led you to suggest a party. So a party he had. All of the kids were sent home early, and you drove with Bumblebee to pick up vodka and some mini-shot bottle shots. 

Once you got back to the base, you all began the party. Somehow, you managed to get the normally serious Prime to have a drinking challenge with you. So there you were: chugging down straight vodka while Optimus chugged an energon cube. The other bots (with Ratchet being the loudest somehow) began cheering. You beat Optimus much to everyone’s surprise. They didn’t think a small thing like you could beat them in any drinking game.

Once the excitement of the drinking game calmed down, everyone but you and Optimus went to bed. 

You both sat across from each other talking about your pasts. What you did before you came to be at the base and all that.

“You used to be an archivist? Like a librarian?” A grin pulled onto your face. "Can I get a reference number?” Optimus blinked a confused look. “So I can, y’know, check you out?” You slurred.

A loud bark of a laugh came from the Prime. “Damn, if being sexy was a crime, you’d never be a free person.”

You nearly spit up your vodka with laughter. “Didn’t know you could flirt, Op!"

An uncharacteristic smirk came across his face as he made his way over to you. He leaned down near your ear, and whispered “There’s a lot I can do.” 

You couldn't help the huge blush that covered your face as you suddenly got shy. "Better cool it before I have to kiss you!" You tried to maintain your cool persona, but when he leaned in and grabbed your chin you just melted into a flustered mess.

In the morning, Ratchet had the worst hangover. He grumbled as he made his way into the medbay, only to freeze. There you and Optimus were. Optimus was laying up against the wall at an angle while you laid on his chest snoring away. 

Ratchet couldn’t help the small smile that wormed onto his face as he left the room, shutting the lights off behind him.

[revacholianpizzaagenda]

Hot entropolic summer masterlist

Closing ceremonies! Only a month late! Will the wonders ever cease.

Anyway! This one-off event for PJÕL's big day was a smashing success - I was crossing my fingers for ten works tops and we got thrice as many, and with so much creativity?? Thank you so much for your enthusiasm and for all the beautiful works posted! I hope we all had fun. And if anyone's still working on something, just whistle to be added!

So, without further ado:

@ambrosiussaintmiro (your excellency...!): happy 10 years (art, collage, Zigi, Khan, Tereesz, Jesper, ibex)

@brennisteinnexe: FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD THAT HE KILLED IT AND THEN KILLED HIMSELF (webweave, the end of the world)

@citronellals: easy there, tiger / it's a meat grinder (art, Tereesz, Vidkun)

@hopelessandcalmless: Turquoise, violet and orange (friendship bracelet, Iilmaraan flag)

@ignitingthesky: Ann-Margret Lund also sits there somewhere in her kitchen, in the middle of the pale; (art, Ann-Margret)

@kaktoherovato: Please, tell me who you are... (art, Khan)

@kala-mies: In honor of today, here's the trio! (art, Khan, Tereesz, Jesper)

@kala-mies: It was a popular vacation area just outside of Vaasa that swallowed the four Lund girls. (art, Lund girls)

@kitkat-cafe: Jesper's cube-ish tea set (art, Jesper's designs)

@muitosmezaninos: Decided to use drugs and remember things yesterday / Tonight I had a nightmare and I woke up but I did not cry (art, Khan, Målin)

@myfriendfaust: I’m making you into a cretin, ya feelin’ it?? (art, Tereesz)

@parasolemn: ADD NUKE TO REVACHOL (art, Harry, Sunday Friend, Ambrosius, Khan, Jesper, Tereesz)

@parasolemn: the Lund girls in the pale (art, Lund sisters)

@permablu3: personal take on portraits (art, Khan, Tereesz, Jesper, Linoleum Salesman, Målin, Ulv)

@revacholianpizzaagenda: Aspects of the void. To a crumbling future. (art, Khan, Tereesz, Jesper, Lund sisters)

@revacholianpizzaagenda: Esteemed entroponauts & plot derailers extraordinaire (art, Zigi, Nilsen)

@revacholianpizzaagenda: The only revolution they have left is that the world keeps turning (fic, Nilsen, Rodionov)

@revacholianpizzaagenda: fellas is it bisexual to- (shitpost, Rodionov, Voronikin)

@ritual---impulse: the pale as Michael Biberstein's works (webweave, the pale)

@ritual---impulse: book fanmix (fanmix, PJÕL)

@runfreebirdrun: what if i was a decaying rock star and you were the memories made cytoplasm of a communist revolutionary and... (art, Zigi, Nilsen)

@smellslikegeraniums: "The Farewell Song", sung by Andrei Mironov (song link, PJÕL vibes)

@smellslikegeraniums: Khan’s popular-science dream (art, Khan and the ancient satellites)

@tereesz-machejek: Discord emojis (emojis, assorted items and symbols)

@theinklingofcats: Station Annihilation (fic, Harry)

@turianhumanclient: Revachol '74 (art, the bomb)

@yarrowdraws: “They are no longer there. But I still see them.” (art, Målin)

@yarrowdraws: I held Graad gently, like an architect holds districts of panel-houses… (art, Nilsen-related symbolism)

@yescking: nihilism and absolute innocence (art, Ambrosius, Lund sisters)

@yescking: down under the water im pale blue (art, Khan, Tereesz, Jesper)

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: Official Laundry List (September 3rd, 2024)

On the day following The Sims 4 tenth anniversary, EA released a list of bug fixes coming on the next patch.

The release date hasn’t been confirmed, but it’s safe to expect it to come out next week, since Laundry Lists are usually shared one week before the update comes to both versions of the game (PC/Mac and consoles).

Sul Sul Simmers!

Welcome to The Sims 4 Laundry List, where we share the top community concerns we’re currently investigating and aim to resolve in an upcoming patch.

As part of our commitment to tackling technical issues, the dedicated team continues to prioritize community-voted fixes with each update. This is our third release in this series, with more planned for the future.

The extended list below is directly informed by which issues have the most community reports through AnswersHQ. There are more topics that have been reported by players that aren’t listed here but may still be in the process of being solved. Some topics can require an extended investigation on our end, so even though these fixes may be in active review, it’s not a guarantee that we’ll have an immediate fix for it in the upcoming patch.

With each new patch, please remember to remove any external game mods and custom content if you are experiencing issues as the first step in troubleshooting, as they may conflict with the updates.

Thank you for your patience and valuable player reports.

Catch you in the next Laundry List – Happy Simming!

Here’s the list of community concerns we’re investigating for the upcoming game update:

Mac

[AHQ] Thought bubbles of Sims will no longer appear through walls and floors.

The Gallery

 Pack filters now properly work for Home Chef Hustle in The Gallery and library.

Base Game:

[AHQ] Outdoor lighting will no longer affect inside the room through ceilings.

[AHQ] Clay and Future Cubes will no longer get left on lots during events.

[AHQ] Frogs, mice and fishes in tanks are now visible when placed in laptop mode. Welcome back, friends!

[AHQ] Sims will put their tablets and homework back into their inventory instead of placing them in the world as long as they are standing or sitting.

[AHQ] The call is not coming from inside the house–you’ll stop getting invitational phone calls from your own Household Members.

[AHQ] “Complete a Daily Work Task” want now properly completed after finishing a daily work task.

[AHQ] Child sim now has the option to quit their “After School Activity“.

[AHQ] Family fortune – “Heal Negative Sentiments” task will now properly complete.

[AHQ] Sims will return from work or school and switch into the same Everyday Outfit they had on instead of defaulting to the first Everyday Outfit in the CAS list.

[AHQ] Certain cabinet/shelf combinations over kitchen sinks will no longer prevent Sim from washing in the sink.

[AHQ] Outdoor shadows now move smoothly without jumping on the screen on ultra graphics settings and at different Live Mode speeds.

[AHQ] Camera jittering is no longer observed in Build Buy mode after using Terrain Tools.

[AHQ] When recent neighborhood stories mention a Sim that died in another neighborhood, switching to the respective Sim household will now have an urn present.

[AHQ] Upgrading washer/dryer now completes Nerd Brain aspiration.

[AHQ] Sims will now hold the acarajé dish the right way while eating.

[AHQ] Autonomous check infant no longer causes new random cold weather outfit to be generated for infant.

Infant no longer stretches when crawling in deep snow.

[AHQ] Teen Sim is able to take vacation days while working in the lifeguard career.

[AHQ] Event goal UI will continue to show even after editing from the calendar.

Fixed a CAS flow issue that would incorrectly allow siblings to be engaged.

[AHQ] Teen goal oriented aspiration now gets completed properly after getting promoted at work.

Investigated missing Doodlepip splines.

[AHQ] “Become friends with“ want is no longer observed for sims with relationship equal or above friends.

World icons on the world selection screen will no longer move when middle-clicked.

Locked seed packets are unlocked in BB when using the gardening skill cheat stats.set_skill_level Major_Gardening 10.

[AHQ] Female Sims’ stomachs will no longer become invisible when paired with Masculine cargo pants in certain color swatches.

“Likes/Dislikes“ Sim preferences are now available for Sims created via CAS story in CAS mode.

Sim animation will no longer pop when sitting on a stool and asking another Sim an inappropriate question.

[AHQ] Sim thumbnails are no longer low resolution on the Resume Button.

Re-fixed issue where Skill List gets out of Alphabetical order, specifically when switching between Sims.

[AHQ] ‘ymTop_TshirtRolled_Yellow’ top no longer clips with bottom assets in CAS.

Affecting Multiple Packs

[AHQ] In apartments, University dorms, and penthouses: Walls and doors will now cut away properly in wall down/cutaway viewing mode. Adjusted checks for exterior walls and inactive units.

[AHQ] Vampire scars are no longer observed while creating a genetics-based spell caster Sim, and any scars generated can now be removed (mouth, eye, cheeks and brow details).

[AHQ] Werewolf/Vampire Sims will swap to occult form and vice-versa after the animation instead of before or during.

[AHQ] Nails no longer cause shoulder tears on ‘yfTop_EP08SweaterScarf_Solid’ and ‘ymBody_EF90Djellaba_Solid’ outfits.

Leather Pants no longer overlap with low boots.

Cats & Dogs

[AHQ] Feline friends rejoice!  “Give Catnip Treat” action to cats will no longer cancel.

City Living

[AHQ] Strange wall patches and gaps are no longer visible in Wall Down View in San Myshuno Apartments.

[AHQ] Food stalls in San Myshuno no longer disappear after coming out of CAS and Manage Worlds screens.

[AHQ] Snow no longer appears inside the Planet Honey Pop building.

Cottage Living

[AHQ] Finchwick Fair results notification will stop triggering during Sports Day Competition results.

Crystal Creations

[AHQ] New item highlights on the Accessories tab will properly disappear after checking out the new item(s).

Dine Out

[AHQ] Interactions are now available on culinary pot racks.

Removed instances of duplicate menu items in Restaurants.

[AHQ] Photo of experimental food no longer changes upon adding frame.

Discover University

[AHQ] Sim will return from visiting the law class as a guest speaker–in both judge or private attorney branches–whether through the phone or the building interaction.

[AHQ] Sims without the Active Trait will no longer get trait-related buffs when playing with a soccer ball.

[AHQ] “Contribute Knowledge”  will now satisfy Writing Aspiration on a Research Archive Machine goal counting towards the “Senior Scholar” milestone Academic aspiration.

[AHQ] Servo’s graduation portrait now shows an accurate picture.

Eco Lifestyle

[AHQ] NPC’s will stop stressing you out by constantly making de-stressing decoctions autonomously in the neighborhood or in the active Sim’s lot during Self-Sufficiency N.A.P.

[AHQ] Notifications for a NAP will no longer trigger with the option turned off and will only  send the notification if the Eco Footprint feature is enabled.

[AHQ] Stacking sun rays/aurora will no longer get stuck loading.

[AHQ] Blue void lines are no longer observed in Evergreen Harbor.

For Rent

[AHQ] You can now select and edit wall heights on Residential Rentals without having to delete and replace the walls.

[AHQ] Ownership no longer disappears from objects after “Move Household“.

[AHQ] Kettle and Pressure Cooker no longer randomly disappear from inventory.

[AHQ] The “Do You Be-leaf in Concrete?“ red/orange swatch and green/gray swatch displays properly.

[AHQ] Work From Home Sims in the Handyperson career will be properly paid.

[AHQ] On rental properties, when someone dies you are now given a headstone/urn.

Panya (NPC property owner) visits will count towards the “Have the Property Owner Visit your Unit“ goal for the Discerning Dweller Aspiration.

Lot Traits and Lot Challenges will stay selected for Residential Rental lot units when converted from Residential or Venue lot.

[AHQ] “Venue Funds Transfer” button will no longer appear for community lots.

Able to enter a vacation rental unit by using phone and last exception no longer triggers when loading the save.

When objects are being repossessed the Utility BIlls and Unpaid Taxes will properly update in Bills Info Panel.

Unit Details text will not overlap when hovering on Residential Rental lots in Map View.

When bills are delivered, if you are in another world it will now process utilities correctly.

Get to Work

[AHQ] Sim targeted by the Simray will be changed to the proper blue skin tone.

[AHQ] Child eyebrows will update to match their hair color in CAS.

Growing Together

[AHQ] San Sequoia world map will properly load into all lots and avoid corrupted white screens.

[AHQ] ‘Left-Side Work of Modern Art Window’ is now properly transparent.

Horse Ranch

[AHQ] “Care” pie menu interaction, “Put In Inventory”, and “Trade For” interactions now available on goats/sheep after moving to a new lot.

There is now self-interaction on the Sim to walk to Dreadhorse Caverns.

High School Years

[AHQ] Teen sims will no longer randomly stop taking exams.

[AHQ] Teen Sims will be able to travel to prom even if Principal Mei Prescott is not alive.

[AHQ] Sims will get paid full amount of simoleons for WFH tasks for Simfluencer/Video Game Streamer career

Laundry Day

[AHQ] Sim only has to wash only once (not twice) for clothes to be clean or pristine.

Lovestruck

[AHQ] Error Code 123 no longer occurs in certain circumstances when traveling to another location.

[AHQ] Error Code 121 no longer occurs when moving in a household for the “Finding Love After a Breakup” Scenario.

[AHQ] Gallery Sims will properly appear in Cupid’s Corner with the pack game option setting set to “enable Gallery Sims”.

[AHQ] Gallery Sims are available again in Cupid’s Corner and the game no longer sometimes infinitely loads when traveling after adding one to your Sim’s contacts.

[AHQ] Sims will have the option to pay bills when they are due.

[AHQ] A Sim who was met on a Blind Date and then canceled on now can be asked to Create a Date. Previously, the interface was blank.

[AHQ] Teen Vampires now can complete a regular, daytime Date.

Vampires without Sun Resistance now can go to Cupid’s Counseling regardless of the time of day.

Ghost partners can go to Cupid’s Counseling.

All Vampires are available for Seductive Dances, not just Vampires with Sun Resistance.

[AHQ] The short, curly beard ‘ymFacialHair_EP16BeardCurly’ no longer changes the shape of the Sim’s jaw.

[AHQ] The door of the Nadir household’s penthouse office has returned, so poor Aziz can get back to his writing.

[AHQ] Sims from Cupid’s Corner whose location was listed as “Not Shared” now can be socialized with on a Lovestruck Date or Hangout.

Married Sims no longer propose to other Sims.

Ghosts are available for Seductive Dances and “Watch Stars/Sky with…”.

The ‘Dr. June’s Weather Control Device’ will no longer offer snow in Ciudad Enamorada. Warm winters are here!

Lovebug and Romantically Reserved Traits are available as Likes/Dislikes as well as Turn-Ons and Turn-Offs in Create a Sim.

When selecting “Cuddle in Bed” multiple times in a row on a bed, Sims no longer lock up with their arm outstretched.

Flowers given to a Sim will show up in the recipient’s inventory.

Sims will no longer read “Seduction by the Sea” indefinitely.

Sims will no longer stargaze inside when visiting the Rattlesnake Juice Bar in Oasis Springs.

My Wedding Stories

There are new interactions on the wedding arch that will allow you to set which Sims to sit on either side of the aisle.

You will now be able to pick which Sims perform the requested behavior when clicking on the wedding arch and do Ceremony Activities. This will allow greater control of what is happening in the wedding.

After telling guests to do a ceremony activity, they’ll stop doing other things autonomously.

Music specific interaction is now available on the wedding arch in order to control when wedding music plays.

Sims gather around without getting stuck as the wedding couple dances.

Sims will properly perform “Exchange Vows with Officiant and Kiss“ interaction after performing “Gather at the Aisle“ interaction.

[AHQ] You can now sell wedding cakes to local bakers! “Sell to Local Bakery“ action is available now on wedding cakes.

“Take your seats” interaction will no longer show up 3 times.

[AHQ] No lines will appear on Sim’s neck after applying the nail asset ‘yfAcc_ManiGP11Patterned_blue’.

Nifty Knitting

[AHQ] Legendary Knitting will now count for Excellent Knits Aspiration.

Paranormal

[AHQ] More spawners like the specters, weird dolls, occult markings, etc now trigger during Paranormal Investigation for Occult Sims.

[AHQ] Paranormal Investigation Gigs no longer showing blank Goal Bar.

Party Essentials

[AHQ] Fun and Dancing Skill tooltips now appear for ‘The Minimalist’s Dance Floor’.

Seasons

[AHQ] Sim will now receive a vacuum along with the vacuum dock as a Holiday gift.

[AHQ] The “lose weight” New Year’s resolution will now be properly completed..

[AHQ] ‘Holiday Decoration Box’ will no longer become unowned after moving to another Residential lot or Residential Rental lot–take those holiday memories with you!

[AHQ] Can now complete the “Countdown to Midnight“ tradition on all TV’s.

Snowy Escape

[AHQ] Platform roof on 2-4-3 Wakabamori lot no longer has roof visual glitches/transparency.

[AHQ] Fun and Social motives no longer reduce while Hiking together. Exercise is fun. Everyone knows that.

Tiny Living

[AHQ] Butlers can now sleep on Murphy beds (at their own risk, of course).

Werewolves

[AHQ] Skin details (like acne or freckles) will no longer appear on Werewolves’ in their wolf form.