#and about how no action is without its effect

[sampirism]

talkn bout my opinions on rook and varric and roleplay and feeling disconnected (roleplay in a game sense not the freaky sense. sorry) - SPOILERS FOR ENTIRE GAME, BEWARE. this post is WAY too long. sorry about that too.

it's very evident that bioware/EA wanted an action/adventure game first and an RPG second, but let me type at you.

i hate to say that i didn't feel particularly sad about varric's fate, due to the structure of the game. it is, in hindsight, completely obvious that he was not alive! i just hadn't been thinking about varric much at all the entire game because you have limited opportunity to talk to him in the infirmary or when he plops around barefoot when everyone decides to sit at a table and talk about how fucked we are. i genuinely forgot he was there otherwise.

he barely feels like a guy himself. because there's no personalized worldstate, any specific mentions to events or characters might be jarring to the player who may have made a different choice along the way.

no one talks about how sorry they are about varric because they CAN'T or the twist is completely revealed. even with another DA2 character in the game (who my hawke romanced. who is now dead in the fade. glad to see you're LIVING IT UP ISABELA!!! (I'm jk. a little.))

there's no response rook can say to condolences outside of "oh, thanks" without the game fully revealing its Twist, because "I'll tell him you said hi" and "he'll be up and walking in no time!" are only reasonable responses from a Mourn Watcher, and even then, should still cause your companions to be a little alarmed. the closest we get to this is the inquisitor making reference to lost friends, and rook visually registers it, but its swept under the rug and moved on from immediately.

(i know we're all mentally unwell in this lighthouse repressing our feelings but jesus christ)

despite spending two games with him and enjoying him as a character, I struggle with feeling much for his loss AS my rook, because i found there to be no meaningful connection between him and rook. i was only told i was supposed to have one.

the game wanted so badly get the ball rolling with an immediate threat, its at the expense of roleplay. you could argue that da2 and inq also started with Immediate Threats but you are also very limited in the choosing of your backstory in those games.

rook was deliberately designed to be more open-ended, with more similarity to origins, but still gave you a prequel where you felt what your life was before The World Began To End.

there's this conversation you can walk in on with lucanis and davrin, where they're talking about their worst jobs. there are three dialogue for rook I think and i can only remember two but they were "I don't want to talk about it" or "man I have the dreadwolf in my head". (I... honestly think the third option was very similar to the second one but I have a very bad memory. sorry)

i played a mourn watcher mage. i had to have done some messed up spirit stuff. some bone shenanigans. not able to mention my Down With Nobles rebellion at all. i halfway expected it to be revealed that my rook was just like a shitty pawn (haha) and actually all her memories are fake and not real. but obviously you meet people from your shared backstory and they do know OF you but they don't really know you

in mass effect 1, there were some unique missions related to both the backstory and psychological profile you picked for shepard. they were short, and nothing happens like that in 2+3 that i remember, but they are unique to your character and are something at least.

no one really asks you much more about yourself! mourn watcher rook is literally Found In The Crypts as an Infant, an incredible mystery that you have to fill in the blanks yourself, which could be something someone wants-- but i personally like my characters a little more predefined in a game such as dragon age. vague history worked for me in games like skyrim and fallout new vegas, even baldurs gate! but makes me feel wholly disconnected from the story and group here.

there was a fair amount of dialogue choices for mourn watcher, especially with Emmrich-- talking with emmrich was one of the few times my rook felt like A Person-- but there were other times that my companions seemed to think emmrich was the only necromancer/watcher on the team. (i even specialized in death caller!)

by containing all the dialogue with companions to ! markers and outings, it's weird to be unable to have any conversations without being able to provide personal insight, whereas some NPCs in inquisition actively asked you about your past.

its particularly noticeable because of lucanis, whom my rook romanced. the dude has a lot to say about nevarran culture and the necropolis and such, and we can have zero conversations on the matter lol.

maybe this is like, really a mourn watcher thing? maybe it feels better as a crow or a warden. but if you offer me the choice to be a freak crawling around in a tomb. i am going to be.

TLDR: i really feel that a prequel mission, a recruitment by varric then a timeskip, a personal quest tied to the consequences of your backstory, something, anything, to make rook feel like an actual part of the world, was a necessity and sincerely a missed opportunity. if you actually read this far, thanks!

[rocaillefox]

ppl reading repent harlequin said the ticktockman bc of the blorbo poll.... my influence hehehe

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[giantkillerjack]

Favorite part about Death Note is that Light gets the Note and IMMEDIATELY becomes a serial killer fascist with a god complex.

No build-up, no Fall From Grace, no slow corruption of a good boy gradually becoming a monster. Just-- SPEED RUN STRATS. And I love that for him.

Tbh, I think there are a lot of folks (especially boys) from my high school days who would have immediately become monsters if given the power of life and death over every person around them.

It's kind of like how when people have apparently casual ableist beliefs, and you push them to elaborate on that just a little bit, they'll often end up openly saying stuff like "well, some people are just too disabled to be worth the resources it takes to support them." - Which is... eugenics. It's just eugenics, justified by the myth of scarcity. Now these folks almost certainly won't call it eugenics, or even think of it that way. But that doesn't make it NOT a core belief of the Nazis.

In a similar way, Light seems like a nice and well-adjusted boy with strong beliefs. No harm in that.

But to paraphrase Lindsay Ellis in her analysis of the Game of Thrones ending, "Power doesn't necessarily corrupt. Power reveals." [I think she was quoting someone else when she said this. It was someone who wrote a biography on LBJ. Whatever. Lindsay said it and she's smart as hell and I recommend her videos.]

And 15 minutes into the Death Note musical, I'm already thinking about how so many beliefs "casually" held by well-adjusted, nice people immediately reveal their monstrousness when talked through to their natural conclusion.

And I wonder how many of those people, given the power of life and death over everyone around them - the power to take their ideas to their natural conclusions - would also immediately reveal how their lack of self-reflection has laid the groundwork for them to become monsters.

[overly-hubristic-mad-scientist]

ok so given everything went well the the Bride’s Reanimation what exactly did Dan decide to do? Because while he did agree to her creation with the agreement that she would be his replacement Meg, she’s not she has a different brain and based on what we saw a different personality what will Dan’s reaction be if she’s not what he originally wanted? Will he get discontent and look for happiness elsewhere like he did with Herbert? Will he resent her for not being Meg? Even if she was similar enough for him there’s no guarantee that she would love him back, which is extremely understandable since he is essentially her parent. What if the Bride just isn’t into Dan at all and just wants a dad? Will he leave? Will he blame her? Will he blame Herbert? Will he just lose it and try to inflict harm (he’s not emotionally stable especially not when it comes to romance) I’m kinda curious to know what will happen

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[snekdood]

why does it feel like...

ppl: believe victims!!

me: im a victim

ppl: actually u should be able to forgive and understand ur abuser and stop blaming them for being shitty bc they had a sad upbringing, actually, did u know,

as well as

ppl: yeah, fuck snake

someone else: yknow hes accused of being abusive too

ppl: omg yeah its probably 100% true and im not gonna question it further bc I hate him so much and i'm gonna act like its fine he was abused and my hatred and possible attempts to sabotage him is always justified in spite of doing abuser apologia earlier against him

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ "𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐨, 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝…" | xiao, childe, alhaitham x gn!reader

「 "𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐚𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮!!"」

— in which you've gotten drunk... drunk enough to fail to recognize your own lover.

— silly fluff. soft xiao, had this one in the drafts for far too long and its about time i choke it out... happy white day !!

the moment your slurred words reached his ears, XIAO knew that he never should've let you get your hands on that cursed rice wine.

in a way, he supposed it could be his fault. the one time he had decided to indulge in trivial mortal matters like alcohol due to your constant insistence... well, just look at you.

red-faced, the tips of your ears and cheeks stuck in a helplessly drunken flush, you babbled incoherently with half of your face smushed against the table. xiao could only stare in contempt as you feebly reached towards the already-emptied bottle,

( xiao had taken one sip and refused any more indulgence, claiming it was bitter, when in fact, you had gone out of your way to find a sweeter drink ),

and sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose with a certain disillusionment.

"come on, you're getting to bed." the man was just about done with your hopeless actions. he grabbed your wrist and tugged, only to be met with resistance. you're pouting like a child, brows furrowed lazily as you stare upwards at him.

"nnno. m'not going with you."

"...excuse me?" what in the archons was the problem now? he tugged again, this time with a small margin of force, and was met with an even larger pull back, this time paired with a low whine. "hey, it's late, and all the wine is gone, so just comply with me won't you?"

"i already told you... i have a husband..."

your complaint met the cool night air and the adeptus' silence. his lips were slightly parted as his round eyes blinked once, then twice, in a sort of stunned stupor. "...love, i am that husband."

archons, how had he found himself such a foolish mortal to love?

"don't lie to me!" you shook your head profusely, wiggling around in his grasp relentlessly until the adeptus had no choice but to let go. "i know my husband when i see him... and he's way handsomer than you, stupid..." you stared him up and down with squinting eyes, eyeing the way his ears were beginning to turn pink, and sat heavily in thought as you pondered the man before you.

definitely not your husband.

idiot. with a huff, he easily hauled your body over his shoulder as if carrying something as trivial as a sack of potatoes. you hung loosely over, landing a couple weak punches on his back as you proceeded to prattle on, your defiance seemingly having little effect.

then, you were silent, and xiao had to look back to make sure you hadn't gotten hurt. sure, he had considered once or twice leaving you out there all passed out on the balcony, but not without reason, yet he'd decided against it. you seemed fine, mouth hung slightly ajar as you snoozed peacefully, your eyes shut and cheeks still warm from what you'd downed. the audacity to fall asleep... xiao couldn't deny that his sigh was one of fondness.

"night, this husband of yours loves you."

strange, wasn't the wine from liyue supposedly far less intense compared to the vodka CHILDE had tried back home?

that, or the people here simply were more susceptible when it came to the topic of intoxication. you were no exception — he'd taken you out drinking, his mistake, thinking it'd be an easy, splendid time.

and don't get him wrong, it was! not just, well... conversation was rather hard to make when the other person was practically unconscious. you're practically splayed across the mahogany table, eyes nearly drooped close and fire across your cheeks.

you giggled. it's a muddled sound, when you're mostly mumbling into the table. "hhhey, pour me another glass~"

childe scans your less-than-ideal state and procures an answer in a little under a second. "love, you've had too many."

you seem shocked at his words, leaning forwards a little with narrowed eyes. your figure sways as you shake your head lazily, from side to side. "wwhhhat? nnno, that can't be right..."

the man holds back an amused chuckle. it's entertaining. "and how many fingers am i holding up?" he holds up just one hand, displaying a reasonable amount of three.

there's a beat of silence. "...nineteen?" you blink a couple times, as if to shake you out of your stupor. "...nineteen," this time, with confidence.

childe claps his hands together, a sudden sound that makes you startled, and he moves to apologize immediately. "we're getting you to bed, love. clearly you've had more alcohol than you can handle."

"what, was i wrong??" there's tears forming in your eyes, and your lips tug downwards in a frown. "u-uhm, fifteen? nno, four...?"

"still incorrect, love. i'm afraid it's time for you to go to sleep. you'll wake up with a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning, but..." he sighed, thinking back to his time in shneznaya, then made a mental note to prepare you a hangover drink in the morning. his hand found its familiar place in your hand, unnaturally warm with your skin rosy from the alcohol. he smiled, turning to glance at you, but ceased when he saw you on the ground, tears now falling from your eyes, quietly sobbing as you shook your head back and forth.

panic immediately sets in. what has he done wrong?? "love, what-"

"nnnno, don't call me that..." you squinted upwards at him, looking quite displeased. "no 'love', 'kaaay? i'm not your love, mister."

he paused. wait, you didn't possibly think that... "love-" oh, old habits died hard, and the word had already left his lips before he could process what you'd said.

"i have a husband, you!!" in some sort of fit, or perhaps better worded as a tantrum, you stood, wrenching yourself from his grip and then hitting him repeatedly in the shoulders, chest, anywhere your fists could reach, really. the alcohol had surely affected your capabilities of combat — you missed half the time, and what punches did land caused no pain at all.

as your anger subsided, your step faltered, body swaying in the open air before childe reached over to catch you in his arms. he was concerned, naturally. "lov- are you alright?" his worry only grew when he heard no response, but it ebbed with a chuckle when he saw you were already fast asleep in his arms, snoozing without a care in the world.

"a husband, hm? whoever it is, he must quite be the gentleman..."

ALHAITHAM knew his night was fated to end in idiocy the moment you knocked on his door.

it didn't even strike him that you were holding wine, of all things, when you waltzed into his house like it was your own. sure, it wasn't as if these occasions weren't frequent, but really anyone would be surprised to glance up from a quiet reading session only to see their (annoying) lover pressed against the door, repeatedly calling out his name in a sing-song, satire-like voice.

like... calling a cat. it was a realization he made with not too much contentment. silently, he thanked the archons that kaveh was not home — they knew that he could not handle the both of you.

it was only when you sat down at his table, where he'd been reading up to the point when you barged in, that he noticed. green-tinted glass, a little wind motif on the front... dandelion wine from mondstadt. now, just how did you get your hands on that?

"connections," you had stated. with a note of pride, he might add. what, was he supposed to congratulate you on being able to talk to other people? even he, a person who generally hated people, could do that.

ah, but he didn't hate it. your voice, that is, when you rambled on for hours on end. he didn't have the heart to interrupt you, especially when you were so heated on a topic — be it work troubles, an especially annoying sailor, or you accidentally dropping your pita pocket into the water when walking along the port, he didn't mind.

"...mmbottle. haaithammm, the bottle..." your drunk complaints reach his ears, and he his irritation is more so disrupted with inward amusement as he watches you in the predicament you've landed yourself in.

"the bottle?" he questions, raising an eyebrow. his hands are crossed over his chest; he's clearly getting a ruse out of this. "just what would you need the bottle for, love?"

your eyebrows scrunch together. he can tell your brain is working at its max capacity. "...im. thirsty?"

"you've already drunk two thirds of this bottle." he holds said bottle high above your head, hopelessly far from your reach. "if you're so thirsty, drink water."

"i don wanna."

"..."

"just... one drop?"

"hah..." he pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, and places a hand on your shoulder. you barely react, and don't even glance at the sudden weight. "love, you're staying over. you're going to bed."

"bed...?" horror crosses your face, paired with evident irritation. "y...you, who do you think you are, to suggest such things!?" your face is bright red, and you're hugging yourself with one arm and pointing an accusing finger towards the male with the other. "i have a husband!!"

ah. "...what's his name?"

"and why do youuuu want to know?" you narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, but seem to come up with an answer to your own question, for you answer him anyhow. "haitham."

"do you love this 'haitham'?" alhaitham's enjoying himself. when he teases the sober you, all you do is retort back, but now... he can see your flustered expression on full display as you stammer out an answer.

"o-of course! a-and, if you wanted to know, he's waaaaay handsomer.. than ... you..."

just like that, you topple over and sink into the couch, knocked unconscious. a trace of a smile crosses alhaitham's lips as he looks at your sleeping form.

"fortunately for you, this 'haitham' you speak of loves you too."

(a/n) bye i was gonna add kaveh to this one too but i realized oh fuck its white day i said id post a month ago what the fuck am i doing so i just like regurgitated this out and spat it onto your dashboard. ahodfjlds

tags (id paste the aesthetic thing but i cant find it so we're just gonna roll w this):

@manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @ @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima

[weirdmageddon]

i was thinking about this since i posted earlier about us needing to address the trend of gen z men being pulled into alt-right pipelines might have contributed to the outcome of this election.

i think contrapoints is really smart, and from what i’ve seen, has been way more effective at getting people out of harmful ideological pipelines than i’ve seen from the majority of leftists online who instead berate and drive a greater wedge of antipathy (though i understand why! and it can be very hard to have empathy for the people who see you as a threat). that antipathy makes the right more radicalized because they don’t feel like they can talk about anything without the “crazy lefties” who won’t even engage with them. where did these issues come from?

what i’ve noticed, and i’m even guilty of this, is that people don’t interact with groups of people whom they refuse talk to, which makes realities more hypothetical in the minds of their opponent since they aren’t open to seeing reality from their perspective. this is true on both sides. from what i’ve observed, it seems to originate from hypothetical perception of the opponent, but when people treat those perceptions as though they are real, it becomes real with their actions, which then makes the antipathy justified to someone. again, on both sides.

what makes contrapoints so successful at breaking this down is that is that she creates these socratic dialogue skits that represent real people and ideologies, has a sense of humor, isn’t afraid to discuss these things, reframes how we see these things by introducing nuance to both sides. she’s a leftist, but she also knows how to engage without ripening division, of meeting someone halfway and being completely humble about it. she is able to soften extremes.

she is able to get into the mind of people who aren’t aligned with her views, understand the nuance and rationales from a realistic perspective, breaking down a big block of “this is all bad” into “ok, some of this makes sense…”, what this does is create a space for self-reflection that doesn’t feel ham-fisted (which could otherwise cause people to double down on their beliefs instead of opening up to other perspectives outside of their bubble). while also being entertaining and well-produced on top of it.

what she is doing is creating these scenarios and socratic discussions that SHOULD be happening in real life but aren’t in this polarized social climate.

i graduated from new college of florida this spring, the small liberal arts college that was in headlines across the country for ron desantis’s board of trustees hostile takeover and exodus of professors.

new students and student athletes from conservative walks of life were being basically incentivized to go there who were taught to fear the lgbt boogeyman growing up in their conservative communities. but once they actually interacted with lgbt students there, many of them they felt like they understood them, and they weren’t as bad as they were told they would be. new college of florida was also famous for getting derek black (child of the man who created stormfront, and godchild of the kkk grand wizard david duke) out of white nationalism. their peers at NCF called them out but also interacted with them, invited them to dinner. black wrote a book about it.

now of course some people are too far gone and you shouldn’t waste your time with them, like derek’s family for example. but i also think a lot of people who voted for trump are not informed, are operating off of emotion and knee-jerk mentality because it’s easier than thinking, and they are not seeing the discussions that need to be had to change their mind because fuckin…nobody is doing them.

and we feel this visceral disgust to people of the opposing party because of its associations. i just want to know how it happened and how we got to be like this. i think social media is partly to blame and also the algorithms that take people down dangerous pipelines and sharpen them, insulate them.

i myself understand the vitriol you might have for anyone that voted for trump. i feel so disappointed that half the people of this country voted against our collective benefit. and i’ve seen a lot of sentiment from the left today saying “every single person who voted for trump is dead to me. i disowned you”.

you can see the reality of trump’s demagoguery, and it’s so obvious, but what i want to know is: what do they see? why did they vote for him? emotion and entertainment travel faster and have more reach than reason. and it’s that’s why i think contrapoints’s videos are exemplary at tackling this ideological divide. this is something i’ve been thinking about for months before today and i thought now was a better time than ever to give my two cents on it.

[visionsofmagic]

❝screaming another man’s name while being fucked by him❞

including: zoro, luffy, sanji, shanks [opla versions]

―❛ nsfw, brat!reader, f!reader, possessive behaviour, chocking (kinda), licking, different positions, daddy kink, swearing, pet names, spanking, angry sex, humiliation, begging, fingering, oral > f receiving, marking, claiming, mentions of voyeurism, hair, ‘is all  I suppose. ✸ wc: 2.3k ✸ posted only zoro’s version but didn’t appear on tags, so, I repost that part with others’ parts too. tried to stay in characters. enjoy!

⭑ ZORO

“oohhh - sanji!”

you moaned, not aware of your own moans until he asked, voice deep, sending radiations of danger.

“what did you just say?”

hands on your waist freezing, the pressure still on there yet it doesn’t continue pulling and pushing your body, stopping fucking you - the sudden silence in the room fills up with heavy breathing.

he holds you by the neck, raising your body up, he makes your back touch his bare chest, back arching - his cock twists inside your walls.

“I asked,” he says, warm breaths hitting your ear as his voice reaches every part of your body as if it's a poison - and he is the only cure for it. “what did you fucking say.”

it wasn’t intentional - you didn’t mean to moan another man’s name in the middle of fucking, but, it came as an instinct.

“z-zoro - I - didn’t mean to - aggh -!”

“didn’t mean to what? moaning another man’s name?” he chuckled, far away from entertaining, just pure annoyance. “moaning sanji’s name while my dick inside you, breakin’ you into half, hm?”

you can’t answer, you can’t even comprehend what to do because you don’t understand why you moaned sanji’s name. however, zoro knows you more than you do, and owns every knowledge about the hidden meanings behind your actions, words, and looks - he isn’t dumb, he knows how you close your thigh around sanji whenever he cooks, watching him from the corner of your eyes as you bite your lips without even noticing it.

it is not that zoro doesn’t get jealous, he does and he will prove it right away yet he wants to satisfy you in every way he can - he can see the truth behind the whole thing; you want the full attention that you try to make him angry with all these acts, and you have no idea that you’re doing all that only for him - for zoro so that he can get possessed around you.

he’s a pleaser though, for you, and he will plan your little game, giving what you want.

“maybe I should call him,” he says, and whimpers when your pussy clenches around his length on its own - pure instinct, pure satisfaction. he smirks, pride runs in his veins, he really knows you - each hit point, each desire, everything. he leaves your body, bending it over again, ass getting higher.

he begins to fuck you so slow that you swear you will lose your mind anytime soon as his cock goes out of your horny clit until his tip touches your folds, only to shove it in again with a hard yet effective thrust.

weren’t his hands holding you by the hips, you would hit the wall in front of your face - moaning louder than before, afraid that the crew will hear you as you get fucked by furious zoro.

“ohh, I definitely should call him. wanna make him watch your pretty face as I fuck your hungry pussy for my cock,” he says, thrusting faster each passing time, making your hands grip the sleeves under you. “would you like that?” he asks, balls hitting every right spot of your ass cheeks, thrust begins to mixture of both pain and pleasure.

“ohhh - zoro - zoro -!”

“that’s right baby. roronoa zoro,” he kneels down, abdomen touching your back, dick reaches the end of your pussy, a hand grips your hair, pulling it harshly, “scream my fucking name louder, wanna hear it, wanna everyone hear it as well.”

“‘m sorry, zoro, ‘m so sorry -“

“oh please,” he mocks you, leaving your hair, only to hold you by the neck this time, pushing you onto the mattress lower, cries rush onto your face. soaking, you moan his name over and over again. “you’re not sorry at all. you’re just a slut, aren’t you?” his fingers play with your ass hole, sending a new sense of satisfaction into your body, “a slut only for my cock though,” he whispers into himself, slapping your ass, earning a scream out of your pretty parted lips.

then, he turns you around, and the cock swifts inside you - standing above you, he puts one of his hands beside your head, and the other one grips your neck completely, making you look up to his face - he finds the pace that he knows that will make you see starts.

eyes sparkling with lust as you look at him, half-closed, blurry already, dry tears on the cheeks, chest raising up and down rapidly while his cock fucks your abused clit harder, and deeper. “yes my slut,” he says, possessiveness can be heard through his voice, “look at who’s fucking you right now. not luffy, not that shitty waiter sanji either. just roronoa zoro. who’s fucking you? whose pussy is this? say it.”

“roro - ohhhh, shit - roronoa z-zoro!”

he nods with such pride that he smirks, still furious, but enjoying this so much that he decides to fuck you in every position he can until the whole crew knows you’re getting fucked by him in his damn room, crying only his name. “that’s it my pretty slut, you will never forget it. from now on, I will dig it into your dizzy head so that your legs will open on their own whenever you see me.”

“please, yes, yes, zoro!” going all mindless, you let him do what he wants - after all, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?

“pretty slut. gotta make you know who you belong to.”

⭑ LUFFY

“fuuuck - usopp!” the words - the moan comes out of you without your control, making his head higher up.

“huh? say somethin’ baby?” he asks, not stopping eating you from the back, fingers joined, brows raised, curiously looking at you.

“‘m so sorry, luffy - I - I wasn’t thinking straight- I - ohhh!” you try to say but your words are cut by his fingers scissoring inside you.

“oh,” he says, sounding not surprised but excited, chuckling even as he adds, “I didn’t hear it wrong then. you really moaned his name - while my tongue is deep inside you, fingering this beautiful pussy that I thought clenching because of how good I am fucking you.”

between your loud whimpers mixing with moans, you begin to say how sorry you are. you weren’t aware of it until the moment usopp’s name left your mouth. you knew it was luffy who was making you week on the knees, who’s have your legs wrapped around his bare shoulders, your pussy wide open, hands on his curly hair as you pull them whenever his tongue and fingers reach your g-spot - only he can fuck you like this, you know it! but why you moaned usopp’s name, why you pictured him in your mind beside luffy are the questions you have no answers to.

“I don’t know what happened to me - ohhh - luffy, ‘m so sorry - fuuck!”

both moaning with pleasure and crying with pure guilt, you try to hide your face from luffy, a hand positioned on your half of the face, not looking at him, afraid that you made him upset and disappointed yet luffy is there to prove you wrong when he leaves your pussy, gets up, holding you by the chin as he lowers down, making both of you hit the bed underneath you.

hovering over you, he makes you see his smiling face, lips shining because of your soaking, eyes sparkling.

“oh, pretty baby, look at me,” he says, caressing your chin, “I am not mad. not at all. if you want to bring another man into the bed -“

“no, no - I don’t - I really don’t!” you protest, so shy at the thought. you only want luffy, you know that, and you want to apologize to him for being such a greedy girl, “you’re my one and only luffy. I only want you.”

he chuckles softly, shaking his head, fingers finally finding your aching pussy again, playing with it as he says, “‘s okay. if I am the only one you want, then, let me fuck you that your whole body remember I am the one and only for it.”

he keeps his promises, fucking you until the only thing you have on your mind is him - nothing more, nothing less.

yet he doesn’t leave you without teasing you, giving you wet kisses, markings, and even slaps from here to there - enjoying seeing you all shy yet greedy for him.

⭑ SANJI

“oh yes, yes, yes, right there - so good so good - please more, zoro, please!”

“hm? what?” he asks in a surprised tone, hands stopping playing with your breasts, tongue staying on the hardened nipple without moving, eyes looking up to your confused face from where he stays on - your exposed chest.

he smirks, a bit of jealousy and entertainment at the same time, realizing you have no clue about what you said a second ago, legs push him closer - wanting his cock deep inside your warm walls to start moving again because you can’t understand why he has stopped fucking you.

“oh my beautiful madam,” he teases, “can’t even realize he moaned another man’s name while having my cock warm inside her pussy!”

your eyes widen after you comprehend the words he’s saying.

you swear lowly, hands touch his well-built chest, heat rushing all over your face, and you begin to feel guilt blooming inside your abdomen which has twisted.

“sanji - I am so sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t -“ he cuts you off, right hand finds your neck as long fingers caress your face.

his face so close to yours as he chuckles, “oh, did my pretty lady remember who’s fucking her? not zoro, eh?”

he can’t decide whether he should feel humiliated or amused. yet he doesn’t go hard on you, moving his hips, he earns low moans from you - hands trembling on his chest, the dilemma rises up inside the mind, thoughts about zoro shuts down by sanji, he shoves his dick into you slowly and in one go as if he’s trying to remind you that you’re under him - not zoro’s or any other man’s.

“please, sanji - faster, please!” your please now is filled with his name comes as prays into his ears, the pride increases, giving sanji a chance to play with your cute little mind.

“that’s right baby, sanji - say that again.” his movements become faster, harder.

“sanji, sanji, sanji - aggh, so good -“ with the help of the last decent you have, you moan his name louder and louder, wanna make him prove that you’re mind full of him, giving him the apology he deserves in a way he would like to get; being so noisy that everyone will acknowledge what you’re doing behind the doors.

“would make a mess out of you. you will leave this room barely walking because of me,” his possession is perceivable, burning you alive with the desire for more. hands grip your inner thighs, opening them wider, a painful breath leaves your lungs as you shut your eyes, giving sanji what he wants; devouring you to tame you.

“pretty lady needs a lesson, and I am here to give it.”

⭑ SHANKS

he doesn’t say much, chuckling or laughing would suit him better but he knows you should have known that no one can fuck you like he does when another’s man comes from you - moaning with it instead of saying shank’s name.

holding you from the waist, he takes control of you, not letting you ride him no more, sweats flow from your body into his.

the moment you hear his voice, memories of the past seconds rush to your mind, and you find yourself putting your hands on his shoulders, afraid that he will push you.

contrary to what you expect, shanks moves your hips slowly, forth, and back - his balls feel heavy under you, hair on his lower abdomen makes the pleasure double.

you hold your tears; blurry vision, soaking clit, reddened face, agape mouth - pathetic yet beautiful, he thinks. “daddy’s cock isn’t enough for you, hm, is this the case why you moan another man’s name like that even when you’re,” he takes your chin, making you look down, seeing the mess you’re creating, “cumming onto my cock?”

“it’s not it, shanks!” earn a spank on your ass.

“then what is it princess?” he asks, brows raised, fingers traveling on your body, “am I not fucking you good that you fantasize about another man while bouncing on my lap?”

he lets you say countless sorry words, cries inside his arms, explaining how you didn’t mean to do that, how he’s the only one for you yet he doesn’t seem satisfied, taking a deep breath, raising your body then lowering it down - cock thrusting deep and hard.

throwing your head, you begin to beg for him to forgive you, to fuck you.

“in that case,” he says, putting himself a glass of wine from the small table beside you while still sitting on his favorite chair that he fucks you onto. leaning back, he moves his hand in the air, “fuck yourself on my cock, show me how much you can beg for my cock, then, I will forgive you and fuck your greedy pussy princess,”

he watches you going blank for a moment before beginning to bounce on him, moaning from the throat, hands traveling around your body to make a show only for his eyes.

he whimpers lowly, a smirk lightening his attractive face, eyes burning in fire, “give daddy a show. and when you’re done, I will call for him and make him watch as I fuck you good.”

❤💙

taglist • tagging: @snowprincesa1 ❦

[agirlwithglam]

Prioritising: how to prioritise + use it effectively to take control of your life.

Hi girlies🐩💗 So yesterday i was incredibly lazy and unproductive and pathetic. I didn’t do any work and i was mostly on the screens. The worst part about it is that it was unintentional. Meaning that if it was planned as a “off day” bc i did a bunch of work that week, it would be fine. But it wasn’t planned. And it felt utterly horrible.

So i decided to take control of my life because i have no one to blame but MYSELF. I am in complete control of myself so now i am going to use that to my best advantage. It’s time to…

✨prioritise what matters✨

This is a step-by-step guide to how to prioritise what actually matters to you and then acting on it. So without further ado, lettuce(random pun sorry) begin :)

Step 1: figure out whats important to you/ your goals.

What’s important to you in life? Is it being online and scrolling on your phone all day? Or is it getting good grades, staying healthy and happy? What is it? Identify this first.

For me, its:

Time with loved ones

Enough sleep

Good grades + being smart & educated

Looking and feeling good + taking care of myself

Having hobbies & skills

God

This is the first step to learning how to prioritising things. It’s not about doing a bunch of hard work for something that you dont even care about, it’s so that you can do a bunch of hard work for something you do care about, so you’re working towards a goal.

Step 2: make an action plan to achieve/ accomplish these.

So now that you know whats really important and what matters to you (aka your goals), create some bullet points/ things you can do to achieve those goals.

For example;

Goal: spending more time with loved ones

Spend time with my sibling

Talk more to my parents

Call grandma / friends

Goal: getting high grades + being smart & educated

Study study study. Study for tests at least a week in advance

Read a lot. Not just what you normally read, read outside your comfort zone! (So for me this would be history, classics, arts & fashion, etc.)

Listen to podcasts about different things

Goal: feeling & looking good + taking care of myself

Wash hair 2x a week

Skincare

Pamper yourself + self care days

Exercise

Going outside/ walking

Posture!! (Calling YOU out)

Final: execution

Once you know these mini goals/ habits/ steps you need to take, then its time for the most important part:

Execution.

Doing all this, is completely USELESS if you don’t apply it to your life. So now it’s time to actually do it.

“B-b-but i dont have time!”

Um okay.. but you have time for scrolling? Use this thing i once heard called “time stealing”.

Whenever you catch yourself scrolling or doing something unintentionally unproductive, then stop yourself and use that time instead on doing something that moves you towards your goal.

Having the steps you can take to reach those goals written down somewhere means that whenever you feel bored or need something productive to do, you have those things to go to!

Xoxo, Vanilla.

[ceesimz]

Misunderstood

Arguments aren't your strongsuit, especially with the person you love most. (Autistic reader)

Other parts of Reverie can be found here! Hope you enjoy :)

If anyone asked you, you would say your relationship was perfect. It was everything you hoped and dreamed for, and more. 

Yet, nothing is completely perfect, no matter how much you try or long for it to be. Even the healthiest, happiest relationships had their moments. That was the reality, but that didn’t stop you from panicking at the first sign of conflict.

An argument was always inevitable, especially in a fairly new relationship, which you knew of course, you just never thought it would happen in the way it did. Not only was conflict possibly the thing you hated most in the world, but it was the cause of the argument that really hurt.

Sometimes, it was hard for you to read people. Other times, you could read them so well, it weirded them out. In your books, the only people that could truly hide how they felt, were autistic people. Masking was natural instinct and when you're unknowingly forced by society and its allistic habits of finding anything other than ‘normal’ weird to hide every aspect of what makes you human, you learn from others’ body language and actions and facial expressions about how to fit in. The knock-on effect of that is you also learn how to spot the signs in other people when they’re trying to disguise their feelings, autistic or not. 

That’s why Alexia loved the fact she didn’t have to say much for you to realise when she was in a depleted mood… most of the time.

“Cariño?” Alexia sighed as she stepped into her apartment, knowing you were somewhere around. 

Whilst you had a day off, Alexia had been going from place to place, feeling as if she had seen more of Barcelona in one day than a tourist in a week. It had been one of those days where it seemed like everyone needed something from her, and for whatever reason, she couldn’t say no. She didn’t realise that everything she had agreed to in the last month or two had been scheduled all in a single day, meaning she didn’t get home until 8pm, a whole thirteen hours after she first left that morning. 

The last thing she wanted to do that day, and everyday, was to upset you.

“Where are you.” She mumbled, dumping her bag beside the shoe rack that she left her trainers beside, too exhausted to even think about the mess she was leaving behind. The mess around her apartment was another story. 

The kitchen looked as if an explosion had occurred, tupperware and plates and cutlery all over the counters, the only saving grace for the frustration that slowly built being the trays of freshly baked goods of whatever variety neatly organised and filling her home with a sweet scent. Her lounge was thankfully less chaotic, bar the blanket left strewn on the sofa and a couple pillows haphazardly placed around, though it was empty without you.

When she stepped into her bedroom for the first time that night, there was a smile on her face. 

You were in her room, headphones on and in your own world, humming quietly whilst you folded up then put away a mix of your clothes and Alexia’s. Over time, since that date back in December at the walled garden with the pansies and the kiss and the admissions, the two of you hardly ever spent time apart. The only time you did was when Alexia went away for Spain camp or one of you was so busy you didn’t want to disrupt the other. Otherwise, every night at least was with each other. Why wouldn’t you? Spending the day with separate friends or like Alexia’s case that day, at work, just to come home to each other was something you both adored.

That meant that some of your belongings had gradually made their way over to Alexia’s apartment, and vice versa. To walk in on you doing something so simple like joint laundry, it caused a barrage of sentimental feelings to rise inside of her. It was like a glance into her future. 

Though, with your headphones on and no doubt blasting your music so loud Alexia should be concerned about your hearing, she didn’t want to scare you. So she simply stood in the doorway, leaning on the wooden frame with her arms crossed, a soft and adoring look on her face as she did so. A minute or two passed by until you turned to notice her, flinching a little before you smiled beamingly at her.

“Hola, guapa.” You grinned, dropping your headphones and the sweater you were folding onto the bed, and bounding over to Alexia.

“Hola, guapa.” Alexia repeated in a quieter voice, distinctly lacking the same excitement as your tone did. Her arms wrapped around your waist as yours linked around her shoulders, completely missing all the tension that she held there. “How was your day?”

“It was so good, I loved it. But all day I was thinking about you and coming home to you. It’s quite late for a work day, are you okay?” You inquired, feeling her nod into your shoulder where she rested her forehead. 

Any other time, that reply wouldn’t have been enough for you, you would have questioned her further. 

You don’t know how or why, but you didn’t recognise her subdued behaviour at that moment. It didn’t exactly make sense to you, nor could you ever in your life find the words to explain why, this was just something that happened sometimes. Maybe it had something to do with you feeling so happy that you wanted to spread that and share it with others. It was a very admirable habit with nothing but the best intentions, it just… didn’t come off that way sometimes.

Your joy was so all-consuming, it was hard to focus on anything else. The world was brighter, you felt lighter, and almost nothing could bring you down. Everything else was just background noise, you’d unknowingly honed in on the complete elation you felt that it kind of made you oblivious to the things around you. Or, more specifically, the people around you, and their true feelings. 

You weren’t aware at the time that it was happening. If you did know what was going on, you’d stop in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, nine times out of ten, that’s not something that can be done.

“Thank you for doing laundry while I was gone.” Alexia said, leaning back a little to smile tiredly down at you.

“Of course! I figured you wouldn’t want me stealing more of your clothes so it was kind of a necessity.” You failed to notice the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes like it always did. “I baked earlier, did you see? Ingrid gave me some recipes that I tried, they came out really good. You should try some after dinner.” 

“I will.” She agreed with a lazy hum, having to hide her frown when you pulled out of her arms and away from her. 

“I left the kitchen a bit… messy. Sorry. I’ll clean it, I swear, but maybe it’s best if we order in tonight?” You grimaced, walking backwards out of the bedroom towards the aforementioned room as Alexia nodded at your suggestion. “Great! You order, you know what I like, I’ll get started with cleaning.”

You turned around the corner and out of Alexia’s sight. She sighed, again, and her hands fell to her hips as she did so. It wasn’t that she was annoyed at you, she just couldn’t find the words to properly express how she felt. 

Up to this point of your relationship, she had never had a day like this, where she was so completely and thoroughly exhausted. Not just that, but also feeling like if she didn’t get into bed sooner rather than later, she might just… cry. She wanted to cry. But she didn’t exactly know why, maybe from being so tired and overwhelmed, she didn’t know. The only things she did know were that she didn’t want to entertain that side of her because she wanted so desperately to enjoy the evening with you. After all, she didn’t have to cook or clean or do any other chores, you’d taken care of all the stresses she had worried about as she gradually felt her energy slip away from her throughout the day. Yet, she couldn’t quite break down the few remaining walls of insecurity that came with any relationship, where she was afraid of showing the weaker, more vulnerable version of herself.

She didn’t want to restrict your relationship with the confines of stereotypes, but she thought of herself as someone as strong and good in a crisis. She was always there when you needed her, there was just some part of her that couldn’t find peace with the idea of reversing those roles. You would be mad if you found out about those thoughts of hers, Alexia knew that, though the thought of opening up about it and starting that conversation was not something she planned to do anytime soon. They were her problems and her problems only, they didn’t need to be yours too.

So she took a deep breath, or four, and left her bedroom to follow after you, opening up the takeout delivery app on her phone. 

However, when she stepped into her bedroom for the second time that night, she made one of the biggest mistakes she knew she could make.

For about twenty minutes beforehand, she couldn’t get a word in with you. You followed her throughout the apartment, from the kitchen when you were done to the lounge, to the balcony, to the small space she had made into her office and back to the bedroom, rambling about anything on your mind, something Alexia normally adored. Though on this occasion, the only thing she wished for was your company and some silence. She had one of those things, but not the other. She didn’t have it in her heart to put a stop to it, she knew what that would do to you and how it’d make you feel.

Instead, she indirectly hurt you anyway, in a much worse way.

You trailed after her, mindlessly, unaware of the internal struggles locked up inside the woman in front of you as she padded into her bedroom with her head down and tears burning her eyes. It wasn’t until you heard a sniffle from her, still looking at her back profile, that you decided to ask if she was okay. She paused in the doorway, quickly wiping her eyes with the sleeve she bunched around her hand, before sighing and placing her hands on her hips. As she shook her head slightly, you went to talk again, now definitely concerned, but she beat you to it.

“I need a break.” 

There was a tremble to her quiet voice which you heard, but all you could concentrate on was the pain you felt as a result. Those four short words cut through your joy like a knife, tainted and tarnished by memory after memory of having been told the same thing before by people you adored, you trusted. 

Maybe if you thought rationally, you would have understood the true meaning of her words. But all you could focus on was that the one phrase you hoped to never hear fall from her lips had come. There was no rational thinking to be done here. Your biggest insecurity had just had a spotlight shined on it, you at centre stage with a theatre of people laughing at the scene they had witnessed, their hysteria a cruel reminder of ‘I told you so’ in much the same way the devil on your shoulder so often liked to remind you of.

You thought you were making her feel better, she always liked to tell you that your happiness was her favourite thing about you. So what was different about this time? You didn’t understand. The only thing you could think of was the one thing that was your worst nightmare.

You were too much for her. Something you’d been told before many times. Alexia was the last person you thought would think that about you. And that’s why it hurt more than any other occasion before. 

Your body reacted as if you were in shock; your hands went numb, pins and needles shooting up your arms, and a high-pitched ringing gradually made its way into your ears and drowned out every other sound around you. Alexia’s statement might have been nothing, but not to you. What she said hit you like a bullet or ten, because this always happened. You got to know someone, trusted them, opened up to them, loved them, only for you to get too comfortable being yourself in their presence and either annoying them or scaring them to death. 

Every time you open up your heart in such a way, you always lose a piece of yourself that may never return to make you whole again in the same way as before. Alexia took your heart and your soul this time. It’s strange, that with just a few words, the people who make you feel most alive can also make you feel more invisible than you ever thought possible.

Perhaps this could be worked out, one day. You would never forget it though, and you weren’t sure you could ever look at Alexia the same again.

In the midst of your anxious spiralling, the woman you thought the world of had made her way into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind her. It gave you the perfect time to do the one single thing your clouded mind could think of.

Leaving.

—

The space beside her in bed was empty when Alexia woke up. A silence had settled throughout the apartment, which was relaxing at first, before her tired haze wore off and she slowly began to come back to her senses. Apparently she had accidentally fallen asleep, fully dressed and on top of the covers, after she left the ensuite. Immediately, that silence was something that swiftly began to fill her with dread. 

Alexia never napped. But when she did, you were always right beside her. It didn’t help her anxieties that there were no signs of life coming from any other rooms of her home. Her bedroom door was open, yet there were no sounds from the TV in the lounge, no commotion from you and your grievances with cooking that never failed to make her smile, the spare bedroom was pitch black in contrast to the way it lit up with whatever video game you often chose to play. 

One thing the pair of you had discovered was how much joy and contentment you got from merely existing in the same space. As Alexia sat on the sofa reading a book or watching something on the TV, you weren’t far away, only on the other side of the couch also reading or listening to music with headphones on. If you were using the gaming console Alexia had spontaneously decided to buy you for the spare bedroom, just so you had a space to hide away in her apartment, the blonde was often lay on the bed there, iPad in hand and going through her emails or watching match tapes or chatting with her family, more than satisfied by being in the same room as you. 

In this case, it should have been the same. You should have been there beside her as she slept, it was routine to be attached at the hip, manoeuvring through the apartment together like there was rope around your waists. 

Except this time, you weren’t.

She went from room to room, opening any and all doors even if they did lead to storage cupboards, only to realise you had left. 

There were no messages from you on her phone and as she sent one of her own to you, it didn’t even get delivered. Wherever you were, your phone was completely off, a fact that increased her concern tenfold. 

Two places came to mind. And if you weren’t at either of those, well… she was well and truly screwed. Her nervous system too, that’d be so completely shot that she didn’t think her heart could ever return to a healthy BPM rate. 

It took her hardly any time at all to drive over to the first destination she thought of. Her hands shook as she drove, whether that be from the white-knuckled grip she had on the wheel or the nerves coursing through her, and they trembled even as she jogged up the steps of your apartment block to your flat, her spare key already clutched tight in her fist. Of course, she was never one to disrupt your privacy, so she waited a good five minutes at your door after knocking and talking through it before she let herself in.

Just as she feared, you weren’t there. Your whole apartment was untouched, left entirely as it had been when the pair of you left the previous morning. The only difference was the fact that the light of the night’s full moon was streaming through the gap in the curtains, the sun having set as she unknowingly slept earlier. The darkness that cascaded the place you called home wasn’t too dissimilar to what Alexia’s life was like without you. She would do anything to not have to experience it permanently. She wasn’t sure she could ever live the same way she did before you; meeting you had changed everything, and life would forever feel like a shadow of the warmth she had with you.

And once she had made it up to Ingrid and Mapi’s apartment, she got a glimpse of that prospect. It was a monumental mistake to assume you’d be there.

“Alexia? What are you doing here?” Ingrid answered the door in utter confusion, her voice a small whisper as she stepped out into the corridor and closed the door slightly behind her.

“She’s here, no? Can you tell her to come home?” Alexia asked somewhat desperately, exasperation clear in her tone.

“What? Who are you ta- oh. No, she’s not here, it’s just María and I. Why?” Ingrid continued to look perplexed at the strange appearance of her captain, until she looked into the midfielder’s eyes and saw they were wide and full of regret, concern, guilt, all things that made her odd presence click in her mind. “Alexia. What did you do?”

Alexia snapped out of her frozen state as the gravity of her realisation hit her; she had made you think that she was tired of you. That you were the thing she needed a break from. As if that could ever be true. 

It didn’t matter though, what Alexia thought and what had happened earlier. The most important thing now was how she acted, how she repaired the situation.

“I messed up. She was talking and happy, and I had just got home from working all day. I was so tired, I wasn’t thinking straight! I said something that was not directed at her, never at her, but I think… I think she thought it was. It wasn’t, I prom-”

“What did you say?” Ingrid demanded through gritted teeth.

“I… I said I needed a break.” Alexia let out a shaky breath once she’d spoken, slumping back against the wall behind her and doubling over slightly so that her hands were on her knees. Ingrid stared at her, either in rage or disappointment or what, the blonde wasn’t sure, but she didn’t say a thing whilst Alexia sniffled and wiped away a tear that fell without even realising she had begun crying. “Oh, fuck. I messed up so bad.”

“Yes, you did, because that’s her worst nightmare! To hear someone say they need a break, especially in that scenario, is her number one insecurity. How could you s-”

“You think I don’t know that!?” Alexia stood up straight and snapped, though the fight immediately drained out of her. She slid down the wall until she was on the ground, knees to her chest with her arms atop them as she cried into her hands. Ingrid softened, just slightly, and came to sit beside her. “What do I do, Ingrid? She’s not here, not at her apartment, not at mine. Her phone isn’t on. I have no idea where she is or what I would say to her.”

“I’m on her side, not yours. This is your problem and you have to figure out how to fix it.” She started with the classic friendly warning, before moving on to what she actually wanted to say. “I think this is something you will both forget by tomorrow, as long as you say exactly the right words. What those are, well… that's what you need to decide on. You have to figure out what you want to say to her to make her believe you because it's not going to be easy. You can't just tell her you didn't mean it, explain yourself clearly. But you have to work that out on your own. I can't help you with that.”

The blonde nodded and took a deep breath.

“I know. Madre de dios, I know.” She mumbled, running her hands through her hair and leaning her head back against the wall. “You are angry at me, and I know that. Ingrid, you have to know I didn’t mean it in that way. I never need a break from her, she is the love of my life. It’s not an excuse but I had a really long day at work, that’s what I said I needed a break from. I know I did not make that clear, and… now look what I have done.” 

Ingrid pursed her lips and reassuringly squeezed Alexia’s forearm. Sometimes she got too defensive over you, like now with Alexia. Maybe that would never change, it wasn’t the easiest habit to shake off. However, she was getting slightly better at letting go of the need to do and fix everything bad that happened to you. With the introduction of Alexia into your life, she had no choice but to do that. It was hard, of course it was, yet she was trying her best and that seemed to be working. Even now, as she itched to grab her car keys and drive through all of Barcelona just to find you. That wasn't up to her anymore though. Only if it was really necessary for her to step in.

Both her defensive nature and her new attitude of letting go, they came from a place of love, from having been there every time someone said almost the identical thing that Alexia had said. To most, that phrase wouldn’t really bother many people. They would either know that the other person meant it in terms of work, or their life in general. Except you weren’t most people. Given your reaction to the situation at hand, all the evidence was there that this wasn’t a small thing to you. It quite literally felt like the end of the world, there was no other way to describe it.

All Ingrid could do was hope that her friend was wise enough to be able to get the two of you out of this misunderstanding unharmed. 

“Tell her that then. And more, obviously.” Ingrid teased lightly, pulling a small smile from Alexia. “Just speak from your heart, if you tell the truth then she will of course believe you. But I will seriously hurt you if you upset her again.”

“Lo sè.” Alexia replied, a hint of… fear in her voice? Ingrid really had to suppress her smirk then.

“Now go. Go find her. You know the places she could be, just think. If you can’t find her and get really worried, then call some of us and we’ll come help.” 

And with that, Alexia left. 

—

You didn’t hear the first call of your name. Nor did you hear the second, or the third, or the fourth. It wasn’t until someone sat beside you that you came back down to earth.

“Lieverd, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” Esmee was the one next to you on the bench you found yourself on.

A crooked, old, wooden bench with its paint chipping off under your hands that fidgeted anxiously, in the middle of… the very place you first kissed the woman that had now done you wrong. You weren’t sure how you got here, when you had arrived, and why this was the place you decided to flee to. Yet, here you were.

“Daniëlle, can you go on my phone and text Alexia? And maybe Ingrid? Please?” 

The younger woman’s girlfriend nodded immediately and pulled out said phone, stepping away to give you two privacy as she did so. Esmee turned back to you and stifled a sigh. She ran through everything in her mind of what she had seen Alexia and Ingrid do to help, and from what you had told her in the past. 

One of the first things that came to mind is that time you said on some occasions, especially when you're quite overwhelmed, you can go non-verbal. Your body and mind shuts down, internally honing in on all that was stressing you out whilst everything externally ceases to register for you. It seemed that was what was happening now.

From what she had seen so far, you were staring straight ahead, eyes locked across the yard on a bed of flowers that had sprung to life even more than when you had been there all those months ago in the winter. Esmee didn't want to cross any boundaries or make you feel worse by reaching out to comfort you through a hug or just a hand on your arm, so she didn't. 

“I text them both, Alexia is on her way. She'll be here soon.” Daniëlle said, handing the phone back to the other Dutch girl and watching from afar. 

If Esmee needed her, she'd be more than happy to step in. However, she didn't want to intrude, and she didn't really know much about you or what to do in this situation. And if you were in an able mindset, you would tell her that you appreciated that more than you would ever be able to express. 

“Good, thank you.” Esmee flashed a quick smile at her before focusing her attention back to you. 

Still, you were unresponsive. Conscious of course, but totally unresponsive, your eyes glued to the scenery across from you.

The whole area was astoundingly gorgeous; all bright colours with the fullest trees, somehow drowning out the noise of the busy city around, providing a safe haven that had the complete opposite effect for you. Despite the good memories tied to it, the only thing on your mind was how you had lost everything in just one conversation. All the memories were tinged with a sickening amount of heartbreak.

Those white pansies you were looking at were beautiful, more so than back in December, which made it so much worse. They'd grown and flourished in tandem with your relationship, except now the latter was dead and buried whilst they flaunted their life in front of you. Thriving and beautiful, just like you and Alexia had once been. Now what were you? A thing of the past? What were you supposed to do now? You didn't come to Barcelona to play on a team with your ex-girlfriend, so maybe you should put in a request for a tr-

“Hey, come back to me. I'm right here, it's just me, Esmee.” Slowly but surely, the gentle coaxing of Esmee’s words pulled you out of the prison your own brain had made for you. “You're listening to me, right? You can hear me?”

You nodded, a little cautiously and distant, but it was all she could ask for. As you did so, you averted your eyes downwards and away from your close friend because you couldn’t bear looking at those stupid flowers any longer. 

“If I give you my phone, do you think you could write into my notes app? Tell me what’s wrong? That’s all I want to know, alright?” Again, you nodded, though this time with much more conviction, and Esmee was sure she had never been so relieved in her life. With much more desperation than required, she fumbled through her phone in a rush that would have had you laughing if you weren’t in the state you were in. “Okay, here. Whatever you want or need.”

She watched as your hands trembled whilst typing, and she wasn’t sure what she expected to read but it definitely wasn’t-

Alexia said she needed a break from me.

“What!?” The girl shrieked, Daniëlle having to suppress her laughter at the sudden outburst. Esmee swore she saw the tiniest of smiles on your face. “Wow. What an idiot she is! Look, I am not good at confrontation, or getting angry, or shouting, but… if you want me to do any of those things, I will for you.”

Then, you did smile. Not a bright, beaming, eye-creasing one, but a smile nonetheless. And a shake of your head too for good measure.

“No? Thank god.” She breathed out dramatically, hearing her girlfriend laugh and no doubt rolling her eyes. “I don’t think I could shout at Alexia. You should get Ingrid to do it.” 

No matter how much she wished to, Esmee knew this wasn’t a problem she could solve. She had seen the reply from Alexia a moment ago and decided to not discuss the matter further, because it seemed the captain already had a plan of action and would arrive at any moment. Instead, she did her best to distract you, to cheer you up, with the help of Daniëlle too. 

All was going well, before the gate into the garden creaked open and the sound of heavy footsteps against gravel disrupted the calm that had settled, bringing back all the thoughts you had only just gotten rid of. 

“There you are! Oh, thank god, I-” Alexia cut off her own rambling when she came to her senses, slightly breathless, as she looked at you.

Eyes red from crying earlier, which Esmee had noticed but chose not to mention, and anxiety radiating from your body. Alexia could sense it almost instantly, even from a good few metres away. It was a sharp but necessary reminder of the night’s events and her truly foolish words. 

“Alexia…” Esmee said with a pointed look, her voice stern enough to have the blonde shrinking into herself, even despite the age difference between them both. Turns out, complete and utter anger had no problem making itself known to anyone of any age.

“Could… could you give us some privacy, please?” Alexia asked nervously. The two Dutch women by your side took great pleasure in glaring at her for a couple more seconds before glancing at each other and giving in. 

“Let me know if you need anything, yeah? Anything at all.” Esmee whispered, to which you smiled and leaned into her. She took that as a sign, so wrapped her arm around your shoulders to give you a gentle hug, until she pulled away and linked arms with Daniëlle. One more stare later, and the two left the garden.

For a few moments, the only sounds that could be heard was the wind, winding and weaving through the bushes and trees, leaves brushing against each other, and the noise of it helped to ease the tension for you. Silence in situations like this could be extremely uncomfortable for you, so much so that it was just another thing that could entice you to up and leave at any given moment. However, in this instance, the wind and the sounds of life coming from the streets around you was the perfect peacekeeper. 

Well, it was for you, at least.

Alexia took a couple cautious steps towards you until she knew you weren’t going to tell her to stay away, awkward and shy in her movements. Then she took a seat beside you, ensuring to leave enough space so that you didn’t feel more uncomfortable than you probably already did.

“Engel, I… I am so sorry.” She began in an insecure, worried whisper. As she expected, you gave her no reaction, not a single hint of anything you could be feeling right now. Though, you found yourself staring at those flowers again, wondering how you could let time slip by so fast that you ended up at this point without even realising it. “I didn’t mean that I needed a break from you. I would never ever say that, nor would I ever mean it. I was talking about work, it was a really long day, and I wasn’t thinking stra-”

“You weren’t thinking straight? You weren’t thinking straight when you told me to shut up?” You finally snapped, even out-strengthening your tendency to stay quiet in scenarios like this, all because of how betrayed you felt. The fury was quite obviously kicking in now, white hot anger that set alight every nerve in your body. 

“No no no, I didn’t tell you to shut up! It wasn’t directed towards you, but I know how you could have inferred it, and for that I am more sorry than my stupid mouth could say. I have messed up already, I never want to do that again. I love you, so much. So much, cariño, and I really am so sorry.” 

Her voice trailed off, quivering as it did. Against your will, you found that sudden burst of frustration began to dissipate. It gave way for a disappointing amount of sympathy. You sat there, silent, as she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands covering her face. The sniffles coming from her really didn’t help your case, but you weren’t one to give up so quickly.

“Next time you think I’m too much, please tell me. Please save me the embarrassment and tell me to leave you alone. Because to hear you say that? Hurt more than anything in my life.” 

Honestly, your mouth was running on autopilot at this point. Your mind still felt a little hazy, but the words came pouring out regardless. You could have sworn Alexia physically flinched at your words, making you feel guilty, because the idea set in that… maybe, after all this was just a misunderstanding. A miscommunication. 

Whether you were upset or angry or annoyed, Alexia didn’t blame you for it. Of course such a statement, especially in a moment like that, would make you panic so much. Hell, if someone said it to her in the way she said it, she was sure her reaction wouldn’t be too dissimilar to yours. 

With some deep breaths, gaining her composure again, Alexia tentatively slid closer on the bench towards you.

“I do not think you are too much. I do not. I never will.” She said softly, willing away her emotions and, most importantly, her shame, for the sake of making a fighting argument. Fighting for you and your trust. “I promise to you that such words will never leave my lips. I will never say anything like that again, especially directed at you. I made a mistake saying that, and I swear this is not an excuse, but work was really hard. Really tiring. All I wanted then was you and only you. I got home, and I just… wanted to cry. I really wanted to cry. But then I saw you, how happy you were, and I knew that would make me feel better. Plus, I didn’t want to… bring you down from your joy by crying in front of you like that.”

Hearing her say those things, it was hard. You knew instantly it wasn’t a trust thing, that she didn’t tell you what was going on in her mind, but instead just a rather irritating and obviously detrimental habit of hers. Despite that though, here she was, beside you and begging for your forgiveness. Now this was a circumstance you had never found yourself in before – someone saying something that offended you, only to apologise afterwards and explain themselves. 

Yet, you weren’t letting her off that easily.

“But do you understand why I reacted like this?” You wondered. Her answer would determine the future of your relationship with her.

“Yes. Yes, I do, engel, I really do. I know you worry that you will steer people away, or make them think you are weird, things like that. I assure you, you could never steer me away. Never.” She answered you desperately, hoping you were taking her words into account and truly understanding them. 

No matter how much it annoyed you, you found yourself believing her. After all, other than this moment here, she really hadn’t given you a reason to doubt her. In the short time you’d known her, she had done more for you and loved you better than most people had in the years you had known them. Those facts weren’t exactly helping your case in staying mad at her. 

“You promise it was just a bad day at work?” You found yourself mumbling sheepishly, which Alexia took as her signal to move in. She shuffled a little closer again, and deftly took hold of your hands, squeezing them in your lap.

“It was just a bad day at work. It had nothing to do with you, mi amor, I was glad to see you. I really didn't want to off-load my day onto you when you were so happy. I love seeing you happy, you know that, and it cheered me up seeing you like that. I was overwhelmed and stressed because it was such a long, difficult day. I think everything caught up with me. Please believe me when I say it was nothing that you did.” 

Her words were beginning to sink in, especially with how honest and open she was being about her version of the day. Unfortunately, things aren’t that simple.

“So let me take care of you next time, tell me you’ve had a long day and you feel awful, so that I can help you and take care of you. I don’t… why didn’t you want to tell me that in the first place? Don’t you trust me?” 

Alexia could hardly stand the vulnerability and the pain in your voice as you spoke. She held immeasurable amounts of shame towards herself at how she’d hurt you so much. You sounded distraught by the events, and she knew what you were telling her now was just a drop in the ocean of how you actually felt. She was disappointed in herself. From the moment she met you and got to know you, she promised that she wouldn’t hurt you. Maybe that wasn’t a realistic thing to do, since this is life after all and nothing is promised, but she hated herself for causing this. 

“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you. But I do trust you, more than anyone in the world. You are everything to me and I am sorry for making you think otherwise. You deserve better and I will work to become that.” It was her turn for her voice to shake as she replied to your doubts, and the tight-lipped smile on her face gave away exactly what was on her mind. 

By this point, you did feel bad for jumping to conclusions, because her reaction now so clearly told you the true meaning of her statement earlier. Pair that with her words here, you didn’t have any reason not to believe her anymore.

Every bone in your body longed for her to hold you, or vice versa. So, you did. You dropped her hands, which panicked Alexia for half a second, before she froze when you turned towards her and wrapped your arms around her shoulders. It took a moment or two for her to catch up, but when she did, she instantly returned your embrace and sighed in relief when her forehead met the side of your neck.

“I’m not sure this is something I can… forget so easily. You say you didn’t mean it but the words came out anyway, and I trust you, but… I worry. And I will continue to worry, and feel anxious, especially on my bad days. This isn’t a quick fix. I’m still going to be scared you did mean it that way.” You told her truthfully. 

This was a moment that needed every ounce of honesty you had to give, even if that might be slightly terrifying, but relationships were built on trust and if you didn’t offer that to each other, then what was the point in it all. Alexia could work with this though, she was more than grateful for the fact you trusted her, even still.

“I understand that, I really do.” Alexia pulled back and her hands came up to hold you by your shoulders. You chance it and look in her eyes, properly, for the first time that night. The emotions present there confirm everything you had come to realise; it was an honest mistake. “I will do everything to erase those anxieties for you. I seriously and genuinely could never think those things about you. I didn’t mean for this to happen, but you will see, in everything I do from now that the way I feel about you is so real, so deep to me. Making you upset? I never intend to do that. I hope you see the true intentions of everything I do with you and for you, because I love and adore you with everything in my body. You are my life now. Thank you for trusting me. That is not something I take for granted, and I never will. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to continue loving you.”

Whereas some people in the past would have laughed at you for getting so worked up at such a ‘small’ thing, Alexia was right in front of you saying all the right things you didn’t even know someone could say about you, especially in a relationship. She wasn’t trivialising or mocking your feelings, she took the time to listen, to understand, and to reassure you. 

One conversation can lead to a lot of things. The one you had just had proved that to the highest degree. No person or thing is perfect, but as long as the time and effort is there, you were certain that your relationship could make it through basically anything. That’s because, despite what had led you two here, you think you might have just fallen even more in love with Alexia than before.

So you gazed up at her, your hands linked loosely behind her neck, and found yourself smiling. You just had one more thing to say to her, which was so important to you for her to know. After all, relationships and communication went both ways. 

“I don’t need you to change. You’re already exactly what I deserve and what I want.” You whispered softly, hoping she understood the depth of your words and realised you forgave her for something that wasn’t her fault in the first place. It was a harmless misunderstanding. 

“I really do love you.” Alexia stated, leaning her forehead against yours and exhaling quietly. Her hands slid off your shoulders and moved to bring you in for another tight hug. “So much.”

“I know you do. I love you too.” At your reply, she turned her head and repetitively placed kisses upon your cheek. 

Some people had no qualms saying you were too much for them, because that’s what they genuinely believed. And it hurts. Others think you’re not quite enough for them, which may also be true for them. But for the people that truly mattered, you were enough, and you always would be. You just have to have a little more faith in yourself.

—

thank you to everyone that reads my stories and supports them, but especially for these ones. can never properly convey how much it means to me, thank you from the bottom of my heart <3

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Dad!Simon Riley x Fem!reader

Simon Riley: Girl Dad

From the request here ; pic screenshot from this video

“Can I come in now?” you ask, popping your head into the nursery as Simon finishes getting your 3 month old daughter Anna ready for the day. 

She wriggles in his grasp, babbling away as he mutters in a hushed tone to her about keeping still for daddy.

"Ya think this is funny yeah," he teases her, tickling her chubby tummy before trying to wrangle one of her legs in his grasp.

It’s like music to his soul the way the happy talking sounds she makes touches his heart and it only makes him want to do whatever he can so that she will keep making them for him. That’s why it always takes longer than usual to get her dressed when he does it.

You crane your neck trying to sneak a peak, but his voice stops you. “Not yet,” he says and moves his body to block your view. 

He doesn’t want you to see before he’s ready. The outfit is one he picked up the other night on a whim, the moment he saw it he knew Anna had to have it for today, and he wants to get it all on to give the full effect. He finishes straightening her up and tucks her body sitting up in the crook of his arm. She is content as can be being snuggled at the side of his chest, happily clapping her little hands together as they turn to face you. 

“Well?” he asks, brow furrowed and body slightly tense as he waits for your critique. “How'd we do?”

You match your daughter’s vibrant smile as you see the outfit Simon’s bought all on his own: a bright yellow corduroy romper with frill capped sleeves, little socks with suns on them, and a big yellow bow to match. Your heart swells full of emotion at the sight; it’s just an outfit, sure, but it really means so much more than the sum of its parts. You know just how far Simon has come in his journey with her and it truly warms your heart to see him so smitten with the little babe this way.  

When she first came home, there wasn’t a moment when Simon wasn’t on edge around her, nervous that somehow, someway, he would end up hurting her. She seemed so small to him in those first days, so incredibly delicate as she lay sleeping in her bassinet like the most perfect doll, that he was certain that someone as rough around the edges as him would never be able to be near her without breaking her and that was something he was not willing to risk.

She is his gift, his light, a treasure that came from out of all the years of heartache and hardship and he would never let anything bad ever happen to her.

It took some time and a lot of encouragement on your part, but finally Simon found his confidence and never looked back. Any chance now that he can get he is holding her, changing her, feeding her; anything and everything he can do to show her his love by his actions alone. And whether he gives himself the credit for it or not, he is doing a marvelous job.

“How did I know you'd choose something yellow?” you laugh as Simon glares at you, trying not to crack that fake tough facade. 

It is becoming a pattern for him to choose yellow things when it comes to Anna. When she came home from the hospital a few months ago in that yellow onesie, it was like a flip and been switched and that was it; that was her hue from then on. It is strange, Simon never really had a favorite color before that special day and then suddenly yellow was never the same. Now he cannot imagine his life without it.

His face breaks into a smile as he shakes his head, not ready to admit that he is becoming predictable. “Come on, did I do it right or not? Just want to be sure it looks fine on her. We got a big day and I want it ta be perfect.”

Your face brightens as you look her over again. “She looks adorable, Simon,” you reply cheerfully. “You did good, baby. I think you’re really getting the hang of this dad thing.”

Looking down at her in his grasp, he beams with a sense of accomplishment and his tense shoulders ease. Parenting is not something Simon ever thought he could be good at, he never thought he would be the one with the chance at having a family, but each day he is making strides in the right direction to becoming the dad he desperately wants to be.  

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own today?” you ask as you watch Simon place a delicate kiss to the top of Anna’s small, wispy-haired head. “Cause I can stay if you need me to. All I gotta do is make a call and let them know I can’t go.”

Simon shakes his head and reaches for you with his free arm, pulling you by the wrist until you step close enough that he can wrap his arm around your hip to pull you against him opposite your daughter. “Ya worry too damn much, sweetheart,” he says as his hand finds your cheek, his thumb stroking across the soft skin before he is leaning his face in towards yours. 

His full lips catch you in their tender embrace, a kiss that is full of emotion, and in an instant your eyes flutter closed as you relinquish yourself to him. You let all those worries fall away as the gentle touch of his lips, the heat from his breath, the passion flowing through his kiss calms your mind. He conveys so much without ever speaking a single word and in a flash you are put at ease.

Slowly he breaks away, already missing your taste the moment your lips part. Eyes still shut, he rests his forehead against yours, rocking all three of you back and forth a moment as he enjoys the feeling of having his entire life resting comfortably in his arms. You both open your eyes after a time and look down at Anna babbling away to herself, before looking back at each other. This is all still new and unchartered territory, so the both of you are working to figure it all out, but so far it has been anything except bad. 

“I promise, I got ‘er. We’re gonna be just fine,” he says quietly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

At the sound of his voice Anna turns her face to find his and it lights up as it always does whenever her favorite person talks to her. She even employs her recently-learned skill of giggling happily to punctuate that she agrees with whatever it was she was just asked, even though she doesn’t understand a word of it.  

Simon kisses your forehead to be sure the worry is completely gone. “It’s just a couple hours on base and then we’ll be home the rest of tha day,” he says. “Besides, might be nice to show her off to the guys. She does look real pretty today.” 

“That she does,” you agree as you quickly check the clock on your phone and with a kiss to your baby and one more for Simon you are gone, leaving the pair alone.

Simon gets to work double checking everything in his backpack that he has to bring for her: extra diapers, wipes, bottles, toys, anything he could need while he is out. It’s in his nature, years of military training has come in handy as he is prepared for it all. Satisfied, he turns back to the baby at his side. “Alright princess,” he says, “ready to go see where your dad spends all his time when he ain’t at home?”

The moment he’s walking on base, black backpack filled with essentials strapped to his back, tiny baby girl dressed in bright clothes tucked in his arms, he’s drawing curious stares from everyone he passes. This is the first time she has gone to base with him, so of course people are going to be inquisitive about things. How can they not? Simon looks like… well, Simon: intense, stoic, intimidating. Even in just his black t-shirt and jeans, with his lightweight balaclava on, he is still an imposing figure. Never one to be shy per se, Simon still does not like the attention on him, but since he is with his little angel he doesn’t care. He is proud to show off the best damn thing he has ever helped to create.

The contrast between him and his daughter he knows is jarring and Simon laughs to himself at how absurd this must look for someone like him with such a coarse demeanor to be handling such a precious, sweet thing. Who would have thought that the scary skull-masked military officer would have a family of his own? It is a shock he is sure. 

“Seems we’re gonna be the talk ‘round ‘ere today, princess,” he says as he looks down at Anna, secure in his grasp as they continue on towards his office.

She is too busy looking everywhere her little head can turn to be bothered by anything. Being out and about with her father, seeing things she’s never seen before, which is pretty much everything, has her interested and engaged with the sights around her. Those small brown eyes, the ones that are a carbon copy of his, stare on as she silently takes everything in.

He makes it to his office and gets set up, grabbing everything that he needs in one tight spot as he sits Anna up in his lap with a toy for her to play with. She is content for a while as he goes through paperwork, occasionally he gives her a tickle or readjusts her on his thigh, something to show that he hasn’t forgotten she’s there with him. 

Barely an hour has passed before Anna begins to whine and fuss and Simon knows what that means: she’s hungry. He grabs the prepped bottle out of the bag and walks to the small microwave in the corner of the room, warming it and testing it on his wrist before he moves back to his desk and sits back down in his chair, cradling her in his arms against his chest as he places the nipple of the bottle in her mouth.

“There ya are, luv,” he comforts her until she settles into him, “I gotcha. Daddy didn’t forget.”

Unknown to Simon, there is an unexpected guest that has just appeared near his office door, though before the person can even knock to announce themselves, they are caught by surprise at the sight before them. Johnny, who’s come to deliver something from Price, stops right in his tracks and stares at the scene before him.

He stands there, watching as Simon tenderly holds this little infant in his arms, quietly rocking back and forth as she drinks her bottle. Every now and again he speaks to her softly, the skin around his eyes tightening to indicate there is a smile underneath the mask. There is an ease to his movements as if he knows exactly what he is doing and it genuinely shocks the young sergeant. Who could have ever guessed that this would be something Simon would be such a natural at?

As Anna is finishing the bottle, Simon looks up as he feels a pair of eyes on him to see Johnny standing there, obscured by the doorframe, silently watching. He sets the empty bottle down on his desk and moves Anna to sit upright on his thigh, leaning her against the crook of his arm so that he can pat and rub her back until she burps. 

“Can I help ya, Mactavish?” Simon’s distinct voice calls out, catching Johnny off-guard as he realizes he’s been caught staring.

“Sorry, L.T.” Johnny stutters out as he hurriedly steps inside the office, remembering why he is here in the first place, and sets some papers upon his desk. “Price sent these; says he needs ya to look ‘em over.”

Simon nods in understanding, his hand still rubbing the baby’s back. “Will do,” he agrees, thinking this will be the end of the interaction, but Johnny still lingers. “Anything else?”

“I heard ‘round base that ya had your little one here today. Had to come see if it was true fer myself,” Johnny admits with guilt. 

“Well, ya could meet ‘er if ya like, ‘stead a standin’ there just starin’.”  Simon nods his head down at the baby. “Johnny, this is Anna.”

The sergeant observes her as she begins to coo, her eyes catching the tattoos along Simon’s muscular arm, her petite fingers tapping and poking along the lines and patterns with delight as she loves to do when he holds her like this. She’s so engrossed that she hasn’t realized there is another person in the room yet.

Johnny clears his throat. “Didn’t mean ta stare, ya know. It’s just a surprise ta see she’s actually real, I guess.”

The original members of the 141 know about Anna, it wasn’t something that Simon could hide once she was about to make her way into the world, but it’s a bit jarring for the Scot to see someone that he had previously known to be so toughened by the world change so drastically. Anyone who gets close enough can see it in the lieutenant’s soft gaze: he adores the little girl and that is… interesting, to say the least.

Simon chuckles at the clear surprise in Johnny’s voice as Anna is still playing with his arm. “Bit absurd, innit Johnny?” he questions while watching her with a prideful twinkle in those brown eyes as she giggles. “Me with a kid? Doesn’t seem possible, does it?” 

“Ya seem a natural ta me,” the Scot admits in awe of how easily he makes it seem, as if he was given some secret knowledge that made him know exactly what to do and how to do it. “Then again I don’t know the first thing ‘bout babies. Wouldn’t even know where ta start.”

Simon is reminded about how when he first found out he was going to be a dad he had started reading all the books, researching all the things like a good, capable soldier would, but how all of that prep was nothing in the end as the moment she came into the world everything was turned on its head. It’s not like in the books, it’s so much better and it is days like today that make it worth all the worry and fear and anxiety he had to break through to get here.

“Easier than ya think,” Simon replies with a chuckle as he moves Anna around facing forward now. “Once ya get the hang of it.”

“Don’t tell my girl that,” Johnny laughs back. “Can’t afford one right now.”

Anna’s attention is stirred away from Simon’s tattoos and towards the other man standing in the room with them. She looks up at Johnny in awe, not having much experience with others outside of Simon and you, but Johnny shoots her his classic smile and he has her giggling again in a flash. 

“Well hey there Anna, nice ta meet ya,” he introduces himself before turning back to Simon. “I think she likes me.”

“It's your hair she's eyein’,” Simon points out, following her eye line.

Sure enough as soon as Johnny runs his hands over the mohawk cut into his hair her eyes light up. “Can she touch it?” he asks Simon and he nods in agreement.

Johnny falls to one knee in front of the little girl, leans his head down, and lets her put her hand in it. Her short, chubby fingers pull the strands as she laughs, the short, spiky pieces pricking her fingertips. She pulls away quickly before bringing her hand back in again, a sort of game that she repeats a few more times before Johnny gets back to his feet. 

“He’s a funny one, ain’t he, princess?” Simon questions his little one as he strokes his thumb around the smile that fills her tiny, round cheeks. “Ya like him, yeah?”

She coos, her little lips forming an ‘o’ so that she sounds like a dove. That’s the closest to a yes as they are going to get. 

“I sure ‘ope ya do, seein’ as I’m your dad’s best friend,” Johnny picks, looking to Simon to see his reaction. 

He rolls his eyes at the statement, but stays silent and doesn’t correct him. Instead Simon opts to end the conversation there, needing to get finished here anyway so that he can get back home. As much as Johnny’s company isn’t as grating as it first was, he is ready to spend some alone time with the baby before you get back. “Well, if ya don’t mind, I need to get back to it. Say goodbye Anna.”

Johnny agrees, though his mouth twitches like he wants to ask a question, but ultimately decides not to ask it in the end. He turns to leave, but Simon guesses at what he is wanting and calls out behind him so that he stops. 

“And ya can tell the others they can come see ‘er if they want,” Simon assures, “I know they’re probably itchin’ to get a glimpse of her too. That’s why they sent ya, yeah? See if I was up for company?”

Johnny turns around and nods his head. Fuck, they’ve been caught. “Will do, L.T.” he says. “Can ya blame us though? She’s pretty damn cute.”

And with that he turns back around. As Johnny leaves the office with the sounds of Simon and Anna at his back, he can’t help but smile to himself at seeing his friend finally have a bit of happiness; if anyone deserves it, it is Simon. Wait till the others see just how much things around here are going to change.

[lunahearts]

Soooo I read all of Dungeon Meshi in this past week and I have many thoughts bouncing around in my brain and I think the only thing to do with them is some AGGRESSIVELY CLOSE READING of a scene I wanted to come back to and try to understand better.

So: I want to talk about chapter 28

This entire section of the story is something I feel like I am going to want to come back to a lot, because its such a transitional time and I feel like there are a lot of themes/ideas that I wasn't fully aware of during my first reading, and stuff I missed because of that.

One of the biggest things I have been turning over in my head is... hey, what was UP with the Marcille/Falin bath scene? Maybe it was because I was already primed to pay attention to stuff with them going into the story, or because I had already seen a couple of panels out of context. In any case, it really kind of stuck out to me as being very short but also VERY intense, while also being... hard for me to define? Some part of the nature of the intensity felt like it was going over my head.

I wasn't sure that revisiting it would help with this right away, but to my surprise, it actually WAS a lot easier for me to follow and understand when I went back to it. So I want to just do a close reading of That Scene and some other parts of the chapter & context around it all, because I think it offers insight into Falin & her relationships, and what purpose this chapter serves within the story as a whole.

So first of all, I think it's interesting that the scene starts with Marcille bathing Falin.

It feels very caring in a more platonic, less charged way then what will follow.

Marcille goes from this caretaker mode to joining Falin in the bath, and then of course we get the first of The Panels

(as a small note, I only noticed when revisiting that Marcille is using the rest of her Kelpie soap in the bath. Isn't that just the most heartwrenching little detail. Augh)

Anyway, one of the first things I thought was interesting going back to this is how much it reminded me of the very different sort of intimacy that came just before it - when Laios and Marcille assembled Falin's bones.

This is such a beautiful and intimate sequence, and something about Marcille examining Falin, whole, after the fact... I can't imagine there are not some echoes of those bones in Marcille's mind. The action seems more startling/intense for Falin at first, and maybe part of that is because Marcille has already experienced this level of intimacy with Falin's body in a way Falin herself wasn't a part of.

This panel in particular I think is a summation of the difference in the experience for them. This looks like... near orgasmic for Falin tbh, and Marcille is very focused on the actual like practical part of what she's doing, seemingly completely unaware of the Effect she is having on Falin.

The whole short sequence is focused on this intimacy that Marcille initiated seemingly without fully being aware of what she was actually doing. And once Marcille is satisfied, she is also the one that ends it, sitting back in the bath and moving out of Falin's proximity. All on her own terms, and for her own ends.

HOWEVER... Falin doesn't just let things go.

Instead, she returns Marcille's attention. First, by asking after her wellbeing:

Marcille, of course, deflects (there will be a lot of that in this scene).

But Falin doesn't let it go.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She likes to keep the peace. In this context, and in context of the way that Marcille was the one to come into Falin's space initially, the way that Marcille controlled the initial intimacy... this is striking. I genuinely think that these three panels might convey one of the most assertive actions Falin (as herself) takes in the entire story. One of the only things that outdoes it is the fucking INCITING INCIDENT OF THE WHOLE STORY.

I'd also like to point out here that this action of Falin's also parallels her resurrection by Marcille & Laios. It's is also a forbidden magical action done to save someone(s) she loves, and its something she does TO them, that they are not fully aware/able to react to until its done.

Anyway, back to the bath scene. Falin is taking action here and asserting herself. And how does Marcille react?

She flips out!! She rejects it! She tells Falin that she isn't supposed to be acting like that.

It's a very distancing response from Marcille, and also one that puts her back in that caretaker mode from the start of the scene. She also puts even more distance between herself and Falin by sinking into the water.

Falin doesn't give up though! She continues to assert herself. She's okay, she is allowed to chose to do this.

And Marcille continues to push her away. It looks to me like she only starts to relax a little once she fits Falin into a role she can better define and control. You're a patient, you're recovering, I understand this fact and you don't. Let me take care of you.

But, for a third time, Falin pushes back.

I don't think it’s coincidence that this is where she opens her eyes. She asks directly about the thing that they have both been dancing around:

The resurrection spell. The fact that Falin KNOWS about this, at least in part, recontextualizes the quiet battle for control between the two them. They both know at least some part of the truth. Marcille wants nothing else then to ignore it. Falin wants to be able to talk about it. Marcille's blatant refusal to give her those answers, I think, is what keeps them out of sync - intimate only ever in one direction at a time, never fully together.

And of course, even when directly confronted, Marcille refuses to engage with the truth.

This moment being on the bottom of the page is notable too. There's a beat here. The last panel holds on Falin's face. The reader reaches the bottom of the page, and they are held here for a beat as well, with Falin. It's not quite a rejection yet. What Marcille says isn't directly an answer to Falin's question, but it is a response. A valid one, even! Falin wasn't just asking the question after all, but struggling with guilt that Marcille has every reason to want to reject.

But then you move on the next page, and...

Marcille isn't actually addressing the question at all, not directly. She's deflecting, again. Oh we had a ~difficult time~, there were a lot of "tough situations." Even though she and Falin both know about the resurrection, and Falin has made it clear that she wants to talk about it, Marcille pushes away from the actual topic. She keeps things broad and indirect.

She offers the smallest gesture to Falin - nothing more than a whisper of 'don't worry about it I won't get in trouble' (even though Falin's concern was never just about Marcille getting in trouble).

Marcille then continues to deflect even further, completely changing the subject onto clothes and frog adventures, which seems to distract Falin as well, as she finally gives up on pushing.

And that's where the scene ends! Marcille pushes into Falin's space (without fully realizing), and Falin pushes back. She tries three times to get Marcille to acknowledge her wants, and three times Marcille rejects her, though she does eventually convey some truth. She is honest in her belief that Falin doesn't need to feel guilty, and that things will all work out, even as she continues to deflect the rest of the question. Falin finally accepts that, the topic of conversation changes, and we move on.

But there is a little bit more that happens between them. Towards the end of the chapter, they have this little 'oh no we have to share a bed' situation. Classic stuff.

And Falin seems to realize that the context of this is kinda different now then it was when they were in the magic academy. She's not a kid any more, and they just had those intimate moments in the bath. There's a new tension between them, or one that new at least to the bed sharing of it all.

And in this respect, too Marcille pulls away from what Falin is trying to say. She tries to frame Falin as a kid, tries to insist that nothing is different.

When I first got to this part, it honestly felt... a little uncomfortable? After the bath scene, it is really weird to move into a new intimate situation with Marcille explicitly treating Falin as a kid.

What I have realized in coming back to this scene, though, is how much I think its meant to feel uncomfortable. Throughout the chapter, Marcille's responses to Falin become increasingly patronizing. By letting some of that conflict between them resolve at the end of the first scene, the chapter seems to let things rest, and lets you set it out of your mind.

Then, when the same type of conflict comes back at the end of the chapter, Marcille is even more blatantly treating Falin like a kid, and the unfairness of it hits even stronger. They are both adults, and Falin deserves the truth. After 27 chapters from the perspective of Laios, Marcille, and the others in the group, this progression lets you feel things from Falin's perspective. It's supposed to feel uncomfortable because it IS uncomfortable for Falin, the way no one will quite tell her the truth.

After all, Marcille isn't the only one to do this kind of deflecting when Falin tries to ask about what happened. Laios has a similar response, right down to the 'treating her a bit like a kid' part.

Even more importantly, this final conversation of the chapter reveals one last layer in the knowledge/power imbalance between Falin and the rest of the party: she doesn't actually remember sacrificing herself and teleporting them out.

As I mentioned before, that action was one of the most assertive things we see Falin do in the story, and she doesn't even get to keep that for herself. Instead of being her action, her choice, it becomes yet another thing that the others know more about than her.

I think that's part of why there is such an air of melancholy to this hug they share on the next page

Obviously, obviously, there are so many emotions here for Laios and I don't think its all meant to be viewed as a negative thing, or that he or Marcille are being completely unreasonable. They've been through a lot, and what's more, they think they have time now. So much more time then they actually will have. Time to explain, to open up, to let Falin return to the group in full - as a teammate and not just as someone to be cared for and protected.

But they don't get time. And this relenting by Falin, this "I won't do it again," it's not something that feels triumphant. It's an attempt to comfort them, more a prayer than a promise. As if she is trying to exorcise a spirit. As if she is capable of promising that death won't come, eventually. It's what Laios needs, not what she wants.

That's the real tragedy of the chapter, I think. It's the one time, in the midst of everything, that they have the chance to give Falin what she wants - and they don't do it.

But I do think they realize that, and I think that this failure is a core part of their journey. It's another bittersweet taste to add to the mix - all the missed chances in this chapter to connect, amidst the moments of genuine peace they do get throughout it.

As Laios puts it later...

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, and perhaps if they hadn't failed her here, they never would have had the adventure that they got to share.

(or, perhaps more tactfully: in life & chapter 28, there are both good times and bad. Thanks, Chilchuk)

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Mine (All Mine)

Request: None A/N: Please enjoy some short smut and possessive!cooper. Nothing important otherwise :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, attempted SA, P in V sex, Cooper licking blood, 18+ MINORS DNI! Summary: Cooper doesn't share what's his, and he sure as hell doesn't let anyone take it by force.

Word Count: 2.4k+

(Gif Credit to @victoryrifle)

“Keep walkin’!” 

You stumble over the rusty leg irons binding your feet. The slave trader yapping in your ear proceeds to shove you once again, but you bite your tongue. 

Nothing could ever just go according to plan. 

Running low on both Vials and sustenance, you’d led a hacking Cooper into the nearest town. It was desolate, but what town wasn’t in this age? You weren’t planning on staying long anyway; you just needed to get Cooper somewhere relatively safe and barter with whoever happened to be running the pharmacy that day.

Too bad the entire town was run by Slavers, up to and including the old Mister Handy running its dingy medical outpost. You were sedated and down before the inkling to fight ever came along, left to wake up in a wood cage with your hands and feet bound. 

You went hoarse from screaming pointlessly at your captors. Your wooden prison was sat carelessly in the open, unbearable heat beating down. The whipping wind ensured that sand found its way into every crevice. There was no doubt your skin was scorched from the sun.

And they left you there, until the sun set and you could hear the roar of a raucous crowd from the town center. 

Cooper was back there somewhere, probably having hacked up a lung in the empty shell of a house you’d broken into on the outskirts of town. You were careful to board the door back up when you left, and hoped no one had retraced your steps. 

“I said move! You fuckin’ deaf?” A Slaver grabs you painfully by the ear and yanks. “Bein’ deaf drops your price.”

The other women you’re chained to - in a single file line behind you with very little slack on the chains - cower in fear. You glare at the man and decide headbutting him is the best course of action, knocking your skull into the soft part of his nose. 

“Wish I was so I didn’t have to hear you run your mouth.”

The Slaver cracks his most-likely broken nose back into place and smirks. “Maybe I’ll buy you myself. Teach you a damn lesson.”

He turns away then, letting the rest of the guards lead you down a narrow alley between two buildings. Creaky wooden stairs greet you, and you step up them without hesitation. If nothing else, you’d give the Slavers no sense of satisfaction by putting fear on display. 

The town square has been converted into a makeshift stage and audience area, where tens of people sit, stand and holler as you’re all led on stage. They all hold small signs with numbers, and it doesn’t take you long to realize it’s an auction. 

They start with the woman farthest to your left, yelling out how many caps they deemed her worthy of. It continues down the row until the auctioneer, who you realize had four eyes total on his face, stops in front of you. 

“Mint condition, this one is.” He yells into the crowd and slaps a firm hand onto your shoulder. “How many caps for her?”

You try to keep up with the people throwing numbers out, but there’s too many faces and not enough ambient light to see them all. Eventually the auctioneer moves away, and you’re left to stand there. The other women are given the same treatment, until each of them is labeled with a price and effectively sold to the highest bidder. 

The auctioneer makes an announcement about cap exchange as the crowd is dissipating, but you’re still bound in chains. Your eyes dart around, looking for any unbecoming figures that come towards you. Men meet with the auctioneer one by one, and are slowly allowed to leave with their prizes. The women are a mix of cryers and defiers, some simply accepting their fate with tears in their eyes while others scream and thrash as they’re dragged off. 

You look to the auctioneer when it’s only you left, trying to figure out what was going on. One slaver makes his way to you, grabbing at the iron cuffs  to unlock them. 

“Nah, man. Leave her cuffed.”

The slaver in front of you grins at the one who’d spoken. Coincidentally, the same whose nose you’d broken minutes ago. He steps into your field of view, and you realize he wasn’t bluffing when he said he’d buy you. Ice-cold terror flows through your veins at the helplessness of being cuffed, but you refuse to show it.

“Nasty, huh? Just how I like 'em’.”

Broken Nose grabs you by the collar and yanks you close enough that you can smell the teeth rotting out of his mouth. “Oh, I’m gonna like it. That’s for sure.”

In what is probably a poor choice, you spit in his face. Just like the headbut, it was impulsive and split-second. You don’t regret it, but you realize it’s not a great idea. Regardless, you weren’t about to go down without a fight. 

Unfortunately for you, now he’s not worried about damaging goods before a sale. The slaver backhands you, and the force sends you tumbling to the ground. You’re struggling to your hands and knees, tangled in ridiculously long chains and fumbling with your cuffs. Broken Nose kneels in front of you and grabs you by the neck. 

“Need a lesson in manners, huh?” He growls. 

You take your first good look at him. He’s probably ten years older than yourself, with yellowing teeth and greasy black hair that hangs in a stringy manner around his face. The bridge of his nose is bruised, yellow and purple all over. Dried blood is still caked around his mouth. 

“Fuck you.” 

He finally snaps, and grabs a hold of the chains. You’re dragged off the stage and pushed into the darkness of the alleyway. One fist latches into your hair, and the other replaces itself around your throat. 

“We’ll start here.” He shakes you, bringing your face within centimeters of his. “When I say something, you fuckin’ listen!” 

You’re on the ground before you know it, and large hands grab at the old leather belt around your waist. You kick and thrash to the best of your ability while bound, screaming like a banshee. The slaver manages to pin you down and crawl over top, one hand fumbling with the zipper of his pants while the other holds your cuffed wrists down. The sound of belts jangling encourages you to fight more, and you thrash upwards. He might be bigger than you, but he’s a sloppy fighter and lets one of your wrists slip free. 

Without hesitation, you swing the iron cuff and chain as hard as you can into his face. 

“Agh! You’re a dead bitch, you know that?” He stumbles to the side, leaning against a building for support and clutching his now-bleeding forehead. His pants hang loose, dirty boxers on display.

You’re on your back, covered in both your blood and his. Your chest heaves, and you stare down your would-be assaulter. 

“Y’know, I missed that last exchange.” A familiar drawl echoes from the back of the alley. “You mind repeatin’ it, boy?”

The Slaver snorts. “You want some? Go ahead and try. She’d be better off in the fuckin’ ground.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’d have to try.” Spurs clank down the empty alleyway from behind you, “Somethin’ tells me she’d come willingly.”

The Ghoul stands firm in his place, hand hovering over his gun like an old western standoff. Your head drops to the ground in relief. The slaver, though, looks more and more irritated by the moment. He glares at the Ghoul who’s now only a few feet behind you.

“Fuckin’ ghoul.” Broken Nose growls, and pulls a pistol. “Why don’t you get lost?”

Cooper takes a few more steps forward, sidestepping your body. The Slaver keeps the gun level with him. “‘Fraid I can’t do that.”

“Oh yeah?” The slaver gestures wildly with his pistol. “Why’s that?”

The Ghoul darts forward like a puma, ducking the shot that’s fired at him. You see a knife glint in the dim light, and hear it cut through flesh. 

“‘Cause nobody touches what’s mine.”

A flash of heat shoots through you in spite of the circumstances. You watch Broken Nose fall to the ground, barely alive as blood gushes from a gash across his neck. Cooper’s knife drops from his hand, falling to blood-stained dirt. He turns to you slowly. 

“You alright?”

He’s covered in blood, obviously pissed off, and has never been more attractive. 

“Fantastic.” You breathe. The fiery determination and blatant possessiveness on display by the Ghoul shoot bolts of want straight to your cunt. 

The Ghoul steps over Broken Nose’s legs to get to you. His eyes are dark, but do a once over to check you for injuries. 

“He touch you?” Cooper’s drawl is thick. So much so that it almost twists his words into a snarl. 

You push yourself to sit up. “Not anywhere delicate.”

Cooper hums and uses your chains to pull you up. Your legs are sore from kicking, and arms raw from the cuffs. “Whatta ‘bout this?”

You look down as he reaches to you and fiddles with the unfastened belt. His hands linger at the button of your jeans, tugging at the fabric. 

“Oh, he tried.” You shiver as Cooper’s fingers  dance over the skin of your stomach. “But I wouldn’t let him.”

His leather gloves fist into your shirt and yank you close. You trip over the chains and fall into his chest. 

“Damn right.” His breath washes over your ear. “Nobody touches you like that but me.”

You’d be lying if you said wetness didn’t gather between your legs faster than a speeding bullet. Cooper’s eyes jotted town towards your dangling belt once more before he used your bounds to spin you back against the wall. One of his knees jammed between your thighs, and his hands landed heavily on either side of your head. 

You wet your lips as he hovers mere centimeters away. The Ghoul’s eyes are transfixed on your chest and stomach, where your white tank top is bared and covered in red stains. He lowers a hand to brush up your stomach, between your breasts and through rivulets of crimson. It’s immediately stuck into his mouth, and you moan shakily as his tongue darts out to taste your attacker’s blood. 

Cooper turns his head and spits. “Slavers always taste foul.” 

You readjust yourself on his knee to send pleasant waves of heat to your core. “Cooper Howard?”

He looks down at you, hat brim drawn low on his brow and desire burning bright in his eyes. There’s a bulge visible just below his belt that makes you salivate. 

“What could you possibly want, darlin’?” His marred face leans in close, lips brushing your ears. Teeth nip at your earlobe, “Couldn’t be to fuck right here in the open where you was attacked by some other fella, now is it?”

Now, you know that sentence should give you pause. 

However, this world is fucked beyond belief. 

You whimper out your answer, and the Ghoul continues his steady ministrations down your neck and in that sensitive spot behind your ear. With your hands bound, you can’t do much more than tangle your fingers in his shirt and hold. 

When he resurfaces, your neck is wet with saliva and sweat.

“I’ll take care of you, babydoll.” He purrs. “Right here, right now. You just gotta do one thing for me.”

You fist your hand in his shirt, but are surprised to find the cuffs slipping away after he fumbles with them for a moment. A quick glance shows him pocketing a key, but you’re too worked up to focus on one thing for too long. 

“What do I gotta do?”

You really don’t mean to sound so desperate, but something about Cooper always has you heated and dripping as soon as he initiates anything intimate. 

“Just tell me.” He grunts as you tug at his belt with newly freed hands. “Who do you belong to?”

Oh, you’re fucked.

“You. Fuck, I belong to you.” You gasp as you free him from his pants. “I want you to use me to get off.”

A scarred hand wraps tight around your neck and forces your head upwards. “Damn straight.”

It takes no time to yank your pants low enough for him to enter you. You’ve flipped so your front side is pinned to the building, legs spread. Cooper takes long, slow thrusts at first before picking up the pace. Large, strong hands hold your hips steady. You brace yourself with your hands, moaning in time with his thrusts. He’s stable throughout, only growling pet names into your ear when you let out a whine. The Ghoul begins to stagger when he’s close, and it’s not long before you feel his release coating your walls and dripping out onto the dirt. 

You don’t realize how unstable and sore your legs are until he’s sliding out of you, filthy noises following. His cock pulses against your swollen slit before you fully collapse. 

“Easy now.” Cooper catches you, one hand attempting to fasten himself back into his jeans, “Seems that we gotta go back to camp, huh?”

Your mind is alight with want for him, and you whine in his absence. “Coop, please.”

“Oh no need to beg, sugar.” He fixes your pants as well, “I plan on taking good care of you when we get there.”

Back at camp, he fulfills his promise and more. 

You beg and plead for your release, and it’s granted with enthusiasm. 

And after it’s done, you both ache for sleep, to rest sore muscles and heal new bruises. Some from fights, and others from passion. A blanket of stars coerces you to shut your eyes, and you’re helpless to resist. This night could have ended much differently - namely, with a bullet in your head- so you think about how grateful you are to have the legendary Ghoul at your side, protecting you on your shared journey for the truth. Willing to fight through his own suffering and dependencies to keep you safe in spite of his rocky exterior. 

You like to think he’s a big teddy bear, but you didn’t dare put it out into the world while in his vicinity.

The thoughts are fleeting, and you fall into oblivion while tucked into the side of vengeance itself. It’s a place many others, even in this hellscape of a Wasteland, wouldn’t dare to get near. 

The big, bad Ghoul.

And he’s all mine.

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[sunderwight]

Crack SVSSS Mpreg AU where when Shen Yuan transmigrates in, the system impregnates him with the displaced soul of the original Shen Qingqiu.

For the purposes of this AU, we'll say that male pregnancies or trans men being pregnant in the PIDW universe are uncommon but not especially noteworthy concepts.

So now not only does he have to deal with recovering from his qi deviation and of course being pressed into the role of the scum villain from the novel he was just reading, he's also mysteriously knocked up, can't explain it, and doesn't even know for sure if the baby will recollect being Shen Jiu when its born -- and of course hate him for stealing the Shen Qingqiu life.

What's more, Shen Yuan can't bring himself to get rid of it, because he does have mixed feelings about stealing Shen Jiu's life as well. Even though he knows it's probably the best tactical move, and he doesn't even like Shen Jiu, and the system has said there wouldn't be any penalties because it wouldn't impact the major important plot milestones, he opts to just... keep it. And not think too hard about it.

Luckily(?) cultivators have a lot of control over their bodies, which means a pregnancy can last however long they want it to, so Shen Yuan doesn't have to worry about giving birth in a hurry. SJ seems fine in utero, stalling his development doesn't have adverse effects, so Shen Yuan just swears Mu Qingfang to secrecy and figures out how to keep his pregnancy at the early stages for as long as possible while he hashes everything else out. So apart from internal freak-outs, most of the early plot proceeds as usual.

Unluckily(?), this state of affairs changes when Shen Qingqiu gets infected with Without-a-Cure, as that makes it so that putting off the inevitable is no longer a viable course of action. He can't spare the extra energy and doesn't have the stability of cultivation required to mess around with his pregnancy anymore, so things have to proceed at a more normal rate.

Which means the other peak lords and the disciples on Qing Jing find out that Shen Qingqiu has been harboring a secret pregnancy for an undetermined length of time. Shen Yuan has to bite the bullet and use the amnesia excuse to explain his lack of insight to the existence of any other parents (he's surprised it works so well, because he doesn't know that the rest of the sect has already figured out he doesn't remember some things after his fever), which inspires a lot of behind-the-scenes chaos because everyone has ALSO figured out that Shen Qingqiu's amnesia seems to pertain to things that must have traumatized him in the past.

So if he's pregnant, and he lost his memories of how he got that way...

Well. Cang Qiong is now on the hunt for an attacker who might already be dead and doesn't actually exist.

But everyone agrees that Shen Qingqiu doesn't need to be troubled by these details, so if he's okay with not remembering, then they're okay with letting him not remember. The only one who tries to bring it up is Liu Qingge, and that's mostly in the context of wanting clues so he can track down the culprit and stab them until they are dead.

Luo Binghe supports the quest to find the persona responsible and violently murder them, but as a disciple he has no resources to actually go on some wild goose chase for a mystery rapist. Besides, he has more important things to do on the peak, like making Shizun's meals, keeping Shizun's house, and preparing to help raise Shizun's baby. Luo Binghe is not going to be the stepdad, he is going to be the dad who stepped up! (Binghe please cool your jets you're like fifteen you're going to give your future shizun whole new inner turmoil about whether it's possible to accidentally babytrap your own teenage disciple via immaculate conception reincarnation pregnancy...)

Anyway eventually baby SJ arrives, and Shen Yuan immediately decides to block all recollections of the childbirth process and never dwell on it again. Something happened, he's no longer going to think about it, oh look a baby! A potentially evil villain baby. With cute widdle toes and tiny fingers and a squished, grumpy baby face that gets all red when he cries...

Yeah. Despite his reservations, there's no way he's not getting attached.

He gets Binghe to help him pick out a name for the baby, partly because he feels terribly presumptuous when he actually knows this kid's real name (but he can hardly call his son "Shen Jiu"), partly to encourage Luo Binghe to have some fondness for the kid so that if he someday hates his old shizun, he might still spare his "son" from his revenge. Even though it's actually SJ's fault. Well, he's a baby now. He probably doesn't even remember anything! He sure does cry a lot! Would the OG villain cry and fuss and settle down only after being sufficiently cuddled?

Turns out, yes. Shen Jiu remembers everything from before his fatal qi deviation. He's just also still an infant. So what can he do but cry? And maybe pee on the beast and that body-stealing creature that has reduced him to this. He spends most of his early infancy waiting for someone to come smother him with a pillow, but the conspirators must want to keep him alive for some reason, because it doesn't happen. Instead he gets looked after and soothed and taken care of in a way he never has been. Also, his stupid baby instincts keep insisting that the creature which stole his body is actually the safest person in the whole world.

It's like a cruel joke. SJ finally gets the childhood he always wanted deep down inside, but the one giving it to him is some kind of monster.