#lovely wasteland husband
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who else gave MacCready a wedding ring? I sure did!
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Logan x Reader pt.3
Listen here folks, I remember a lot from the movie however most of those memories are Hugh Jackman's abs
I hope this is alright, I added a few bits and obviously there will be dialogue that I have forgotten but I really hope it's semi-good, I know a lot of you have wanted a third part so hopefully it lives up to your standards đ«¶
There be "violence" in this one
<< Part 2 Part 4 >> Masterlist
Logan had spent the journey drinking Gambit's booze and watching you sleep. You looked younger when you slept, less worn. He used to love taking you to your room when you fell asleep grading his pupil's papers or even just watching TV in the sitting room. He'd scoop you up in his arms and secure you safely in your room, then eventually he'd settle you in his.Â
You had said the word husband yesterday, that wasn't lost on him. You'd been married to your version of Wolverine. One that wasn't too âmachoâ to ask. One that loved you freely. He was a fucking idiot for being scared to take that leap. He and you had settled into a fuck-buddy-but-there-were-feelings-involved situation.Â
He could've had more with you.Â
Maybe if he was with you he wouldn't have been at a bar when the humans attacked.
He was lost without his friends but he was truly wrecked without you. When he found your body amongst the pile of mutants something inside him snapped. He couldn't stop hurting people. It began with the bad, then the semi-bad, then the not bad and eventually he killed innocents. He killed people that didn't deserve it. He made a bad name for the mutants and the X-Men. He killed the X-Men by tarnishing the memory.Â
He couldn't be without you again. He'd bring you with him, take you to wherever Deadpool was taking him.
Surely he could convince you.
âYou'll have to wake her soon.â Laura's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She was staring intensely but not in an intimidating way. He didn't think she could stare without the intensity behind her eyes. She was born with it, through him.Â
âI will.â He agreed.Â
âYou want some?â She raised an open cereal box. He didn't know why but he didn't want to insult her any more. He accepted some and thanked her. It was chalky but tasted vaguely like chocolate. Laura still just watched Logan, every stretch of his jaw as he chewed and eventually swallowed and then she still gazed into his soul âYou love her.âÂ
Logan didn't think it was a question but responded. He couldn't disagree if he wanted to. âYes.âÂ
âI do, too.â She flicked her eyes to your face and then turned her head, repositioning herself on Blade's shoulder.Â
Logan stayed still for another few minutes but the silhouette of the giant, Wade called Paul Rudd, became visible in the distance. It was time to wake you.Â
He delicately shook your shoulder and you frowned, grumbling and burrowing higher into his neck.
âBaby.â Logan shook you again, and you let out a huff, squinting open one eye. âWe'll be there soon.âÂ
You raised your head and slowly sat up, eyes sleepy and letting out a small yawn. Logan gave you a soft smile as he flattened a piece of hair that had stuck out, his hand slid down to caress your cheek.Â
âYou could come with us.âÂ
âWith you?â Your brain was still mush. âI can't leave them.âÂ
âNo.â He lied. âYou should be up there in the skull with âPool and me. It would be a better vantage point for you.âÂ
The plan was to have Laura, Elektra, Blade, and Gambit on the offence whilst you were their defence. You always were the protector, the shield of the group. Wade and Logan were going to distract and then use Juggernautâs helm to bargain with Cassandra Nova.Â
You took a moment to consider with your slow brain but then agreed. âYeah, that's probably a good idea.âÂ
You continued to wake yourself up, preparing for a fight. It wasn't hard to, everyday in this wasteland was a fight. Everyone seemed to work for this Cassandra lady which meant that they wanted to kill you for not.Â
In your peripheral you saw Blade open the sunroof, before rummaging in his bag.
Gambit spoke over the radio, âso, ami, âe gonna be âlastinâ a way through thoseâre hands.âÂ
âWhat he means to ask is how are we going to get through? I feel like that was an integral part of this plan and I have miss-â Wade cut himself off when he felt movement behind him. Blade had stood and freed the rocket launcher, hoisting it over his shoulder and aiming. âOh my god, where did you get that?âÂ
El glanced through the rearview mirror and answered, âPunisher.â slamming her foot down on the gas.
âWhat one there's been like five?âÂ
You couldn't hear the end of his question as Blade fired the shot, it landed right in the centre breaking the fingers.Â
âHold on!â El ordered as she expertly spun the car to the left.Â
Smoke plumed as you all were quick to exit. Elektra, Wade and Blade were to the left side. Logan, yourself and Laura to the right, Gambit was in the middle shuffling his deck.Â
The others: mutants, supes, enhanced, all crowded you, waiting for the order to kill. There were familiar faces such as Lady Deathstrike, Toad, Juggernaut and Blob. There were others that you were fairly sure you recognised through their distinctive features despite them having different faces, like Azazel and Pyro.Â
There were a good fifty more circling you, Laura smirked putting her sunglasses on. Blade spun his weapons then tapped one on Elektra's sais in a âcheersâ motion. Wade had his katanas out and your Wolverines both extended their claws. You and Gambit, the only ones with âmagicâ powers stayed fairly still, well, as still as he could be.Â
Cassandra was standing above you all in the skull of an Ant-Man, you remembered when he got there. She was quick to free him of skin and then organs. Positioning him in this horrid way, using his body as a base. It made you sick when you thought of the palaces and the buildings that came through the portals in abundance.Â
âYou came back.â She spoke. Her accent was posh but her tone was clipped. Clearly annoyed.Â
âYou have to send us back!â Wade shouted.Â
She gave you a smirk and retreated into the right eye socket.Â
Here's where the fun begins.Â
âLet's fucking go!â Deadpool yelled. You all let out a war cry, Gambit's being âAllons!â as you all depart at the same time, each of you taking a side and going for it. Blade went toe to toe with Toad, Elektra fought Lady Deathstrike, Logan fought a very large man you didn't recognize, Wade fought a Doc Ock, Gambit took on a group of four, and Laura went for the big guy himself. Juggernaut.Â
You were paired with Azazel. The man zapping about, striking you and vanishing before you could catch him. It took his tail tripping you for you to land on your back and actually be in a good-visibility position. Quickly you trapped him in a forcefield. It was an intense battle of power. The field had been a bubble but you wrapped it around his appendages and forced him to stay in one spot. Forced him still. But he struggled. He fought against you, red mist seeping from the forcefield as he thrashed about.Â
You had trapped him but couldnât do anything to dispose of him. If you flung him away he would just reappear and it was getting noticed that you were distracted. Quickly you rose to your feet, arms still extended, shaking with brute force and out of the corner of your eye you could see her. She ran towards you and you dropped on hand flinging a force field in the shape of a disc - you had so eloquently named a forcedisc - at her. It sliced through her side but she didn't stop.Â
âEl!â You yelled, barely dodging the acid she spat. Your arms stayed extended in the same position but you managed to kick her in the chest as she took a deep breath. She spluttered, acid dripping down her face and landing on her shirt. Her skin was immune but the fabric burned.Â
Elektra spun to your call and nodded, having fought with you before she understood what was needed.Â
You moved Azazel over to her and Elektra stabbed him, your forcefield opening just as the sai made contact.Â
As you focused on the exact millisecond to release your palms, âacidgirlâ was able to choke you from behind. You conjured a muzzle over her mouth and held it there. Quickly plucking your knife out.Â
Killing wasn't exactly new to you but it always felt bad, no matter if the feeling got smaller and smaller each time. You still felt guilty as you thrust behind and stabbed her stomach.Â
Once you released the field her acid fell upon your shoulder. The suit fizzled and you were quick to pull the fabric from your skin. It still burned through but you pushed on.Â
âOit L/N!â Wade shouted over spinning cartoonishly across Logan's back to stab someone.Â
You hadn't realised how isolated you were compared to the others, you were right at the back of the group, by the car. You threw out some forcediscs holding them stationary and jumped on them, over the heads of those trying to kill you. You ran, ascending up, towards the skull, flinging a couple out for Wade and Logan. They were quick to follow your cue and you made sure they and you got to each eye socket.Â
They entered the right as you perched in the left, finding yourself at a much better position strategically.
Their plan was distraction. Yours was protection. You could do yours in your sleep. Quickly stopping a hammer landing on Elektra and misplacing a punch to Gambit.Â
You had gotten more powerful being here. You had to. Your forcefields were no longer merely for protection, they could now be used as a force. Similar to Jeanâs telekinesis except you were still using the forcefields, only they were now differently shaped, i.e. the ball that had knocked into the man's fist when he aimed for Gambit's face.Â
A gate fell to the floor, landing on the Honda, and a creature stalked out of it, dark claws crushing the car as though it was tissue paper.Â
You were quick to try and halt the thing. It was a humongous wolf? You couldn't be sure as it had two sets of eyes and three tails. It was clearly not from your version of earth.Â
âLet it go!â Blade yelled up, smiling wide. âI got this!âÂ
You obeyed his order and focused your energy on Laura. Who had just decapitated Juggernaut. That's my girl.Â
Quickly you flung multiple discs for her to jump onto, she was efficient as always and leapt towards the right eye socket when Psylocke's lasso yanked her back.
âLaura!â You screamed, instinctively opening a field around her head and closing your fist, crushing it - you'd never even thought to do that, never once occurred to use your power that way - just in time your baby tossed her backpack into the eye socket and it skidded across the marble floor and straight into Deadpool's awaiting hand.
You hadn't even noticed what was going on behind you. There was talking and now nothing. Sneaking a glance you saw Logan on his knees with Cassandra holding his cheeks. Her fingers disappeared into his skin, he was twitching slightly but she looked peaceful.Â
Wade quickly revealed the helm and tiptoed behind her.Â
âBOOM!â Gambitâs voice could be heard and then a series of much larger explosions than you were used to detonated.Â
You were brought back to the battle at hand and decided that maybe crushing heads was the way to go when you saved El, who had been cornered by two men.Â
Blade, having been fighting the beast, was currently sat on top of it and plunged a knife into its head. Downing the creature.Â
There actually wasn't an awful lot of enemies left to fight and you were feeling good about the outcome when you saw it.
Alioth.Â
The celestial dragon had its gaze set upon you. âGuys!â You called down. âAlioth is coming!âÂ
Realistically there wasn't anything you could do. You couldn't shield them from this. But perhaps Cassandra could? Did she save people from the dragon? Surely she didn't offer them up, right?
âGet inside!â You ordered and quickly turned to find Wade holding her firmly with Juggernautâs helmet forced upon her.Â
Logan was talking to her and you jogged over.Â
âAlioth is coming.â You informed.Â
âI can't save you with this on my head.â She taunted.Â
âYou won't save us anyway!â Wade countered, âLogan, you want me to off her?â His fingers twitched near her neck.Â
âNo.â Logan shook his head.Â
âYou sure? I'm right here.âÂ
âIt's not what-Charles wouldn't want that. If he knew about you, my Charles, he would stop at nothing to come find you. To save you. He would've loved you.âÂ
You had known Cassandra for her reputation. She was the big cheese, she called the shots, she had an immense power and used it to do whatever she wanted. Everyone else were her playthings. But here, with the helm on, she looked small. She was tiny and thin and her eyes glossed over at Logan's words.Â
âMine, too.â You knew you didn't have to speak but you wanted her to know. That was the X-Man in you. Charlesâ influence. Everyone deserves help.Â
She looked at you and you felt as though she was looking into your very soul. Her eyes, even powerless, were weighty.Â
âWe can't release her, she'll kill us.â Wade reminded you. He wasn't wrong. What could you do? What should you do?Â
You didn't have the time to think of a plan. âWe need to hurry up, that monster is on its way.âÂ
A gunshot echoed through the skull as well as your own. You quickly forced a shield up, covering the four of you.Â
Pyro was behind it, pointing the weapon at Cassandra. Your eyes followed the angle to see she was beginning to bleed heavily from her stomach.Â
âI am tired of being her errand boy! 'Do this, get that', well no more!â He sauntered towards you all, the gun lowered to his side, you slowly eased the shield back as he spoke. âWhen is it my turn? First Magneto, then Apocalypse, Scarlet Witch and now Cassandra Nova!âÂ
When he was within range Logan silenced him with an efficient right hook. You know it hurt, because that man was heavy.Â
âNot everyone gets a speech.âÂ
Blood splurged from Cassandraâs mouth as she coughed. âShit!â Â
âWade, you have to take her helmet off.âÂ
âShe, again, will. Kill. Us.â He tightened his hold. âYou missed it, she said she'd ârub herself silly watchingâ a second ago!â
âShe's dying.â You argued.Â
Logan agreed, âshe needs her powers to help us, we're stuck here if she dies.âÂ
Wade let out a frustrated yell before he conceded and yanked the helmet off her. Her body fell to the floor as he let go and you were quick to help her.Â
âIt's okay, can you hea-â She was already up and standing, leaving you kneeling on the floor. âOh.âÂ
You stood to your full height and watched as she kicked Pyroâs body before addressing you. âA wizard came through here. He died and I got this.â She revealed a fancy ring. Causing Wade to gasp and say âstrangeâ. âYou saved me and I am curious to how this will play out...so I suppose I can get you back, but you better hurry. As your friend mentioned, Alioth is coming.âÂ
Cassandra raised her arms and spun a circle, forming a physical one as she did. It crackled and sparked and in the centre was a street. There were cars and houses and people. It was home. Or a version of a home.Â
It was civilisation.Â
After all this time you could smell it.Â
âGo on.â She nodded towards the âportalâ.Â
Logan grasped your hand and you were tempted. By god you were.Â
But Gambit, Elektra, Blade and Laura. Your Laura who you had to help with her periods and hygiene; Laura who came into your room when she had a bad dream; Laura who had offered to help feed Blade - in a similar fashion that Logan did - because she âhealedâ and didn't want you guys to suffer.Â
You pulled free from him. âI can't leave her.â Â
âY/N.â Logan tried again. âThis is your chance to escape!âÂ
âI won't leave her.â You clarified.Â
âI-âÂ
âGuys, chop chop!â Wade accentuated the words with a clap.Â
âSave the world and come back for me.â You offered lamely. It was a very long shot. But what else could you say? You knew he was here to save Deadpool's world, if it worked maybe you could all live there?
âI can't lea-âÂ
You pushed him away. âGo. I'll be here.âÂ
.
.
Part 4
#logan 2017#james logan howlett#logan x reader#logan howlett#logan#the wolverine#wolverine x men#wolverine#wolverine x reader#deadpool#deadpool 3#deadpool and wolverine
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ᥣđ© BLIND TO THE PURPOSE OF THE BRUTE DIVINE
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: you're finally in a position to make your first, and hopefully final, move, but the guild isn't your only enemy that's actively working against you. you were foolish to think things would be so easy.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy friday lil guys, i struggled with this chapter unfortunately and i'm not sure if i'm happy with the results </3 hopefully you guys will enjoy it more than i did hahah. comments & reblogs appreciated
GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).
CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. suggestive language. reader is a bit of a cunt to fitzgerald & takes advantage of his love for zelda. she also takes advantage of zelda's fragile state to manipulate her. repin's ability (memory manipulation) is now going to be heavily in play for the rest of the series so keep that in mind. mentions of gore (blame klaus).
SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST
The human mind is terribly fragile, but some are more so than others.
You donât even need to use your ability on Zelda Fitzgerald to make her crack.
One conversation to plant the seeds of trust.
Three conversations to make her believe youâre a friend of her husband.
Five conversations to convince her that Fyodor Dostoevsky was the one who had her kidnapped from her home in Manhattan, and that you, as a favor to Fitzgerald, were the one who had her rescued.Â
In the seventh conversation, you hinted at knowing something about her daughter before you left for a meeting with the other executives. You let her stew on it for a few hours before returning. By the time you came back, sheâd worked herself up into a mess.Â
In that eighth conversation, you acted apologetic, pretended that youâd misspoke, you backpedaled and bit your tongue. You made it seem like you were reluctant to speak, like you didnât want to betray Fitzgeraldâs trust. She begged you for hours to just tell her what you meant; you refused and left.
You came back three hours after that, and you put up a nice facade of guilt when you did. You told Zelda that you didnât like lying to her, that her husband is a dear business partner of yours and youâve come to think of his family like your own just from how much you hear about them through him. You told her that this wasnât your secret to share, but she begged and pleaded, and you still made sure you came across as reluctant, but this time you gave in and told her.
In that ninth conversation, you told Zelda Fitzgerald that her daughter was still alive and her husband was keeping her away, because the last time Zelda spoke to her daughter, theyâd gotten into an argument that drove Frances away. Her husband thought it would be easier for Zelda to think she was dead, because for all intents and purposes, Zelda was dead to Frances. You told her that you got your information through Nabokov, because Frances was living in Russia now under a new name with Dostoevskyâs help.
She believed you.
It took four days.
You donât really have anything against Dostoevsky. Youâve met him a handful of times during events and he was pleasant enough, but his rats have been seen a bit too frequently in Port Mafia territory and since he and Tolstoy are both Russian, itâs easier for you to help Zelda confuse them. You figure this will be enough of a warning for him to leave Yokohama. If not, itâs just another issue for you to tackle later.
Nabokov, on the other handâhe pissed you off you. Youâve never thought highly of the man, even when you visited him in Saint Petersburg, you thought he was quite despicable, and the more you heard from Klaus about the things that happened in the fighting rings, the more your distaste grew.
Now, he backed out of a critical transaction with the Port Mafia which fucked over one of Piano Manâs deals with the Family in Rome and one of Aceâs casinos, so heâs turned just about the whole round table of executives against him and you think this is a quick way of getting even with him. He would be quite unhappy once Francis Fitzgerald turned all of the resources of the Guild onto him in retaliation for spreading lies about his daughter. The man's one weakness has always been his family, he wouldn't think twice once given a name and reason.
All of this is the reason why you prefer to work from behind the scenes. There are many pros, of course, to being in an organization like the Guild where each executive member is an influential, internationally known public figure, but thereâs one big con that you just canât get over: the lack of privacy.Â
The Fitzgerald family has been headline bait for all of the worldâs most popular tabloids for years, and when his daughter passed away five years ago, you made sure to follow each and every story. You figured one day that the Port Mafia would end up in conflict with the GuildâFitzgeraldâs reach has always been endless, Yokohama was one of the few places out of it, and you knew one day he would move to gain a foothold here and you didnât want to be scrambling for information about the man once it happened.
Chuuya always rolled his eyes at you when he found you surfing the tabloids, but look how handy it is now. Thereâd been several popular theories circulating when Frances Fitzgerald was killed in a car accident. Some people thought it was an assassinationâthe tabloids speculated that Fitzgerald was the intended target but his daughter got caught in the crossfires; the people that knew of the Guildâs ties with the underworld tended to think that his daughter was the intended target as a means to try to break Fitzgerald.
You didnât buy either of those theories.
Youâve witnessed many assassinationsâassassinations gone wrong, assassinations gone right; assassination attempts on you and assassination attempts on enemies. You are very well versed in the art of assassination. Youâve plotted many of them yourself with Albatross and Iceman, and the ones you didnât, you still oversaw.
You donât think Frances Fitzgerald was assassinated, by accident or otherwise.Â
No one bought into your theory when you tried to place bets on it with the Flagsânot until one of the American tabloids released an insider scoop from a relative of Zelda Fitzgerald who claimed that the mother and daughter had gotten into a blow out fight the night she died in the car accident.Â
You think that was the last bit of information you needed to confirm your theory: Frances Fitzgerald was not assassinated, she was a stupid and reckless teenager who was upset after a fight with her mother and drove too fast down a road that was too windy and ended up driving herself right off a cliff. It was a gamble to bring it up now to Zelda, because you couldnât be entirely certain, of course, but it paid off.Â
Youâd been rightâsome type of argument had broken out between them the night of her daughterâs death, and Zelda has blamed herself for her death ever since. The woman, whoâd been the face of American socialites for almost a decade, had all but retreated from the publicâs eye after it happened. People whispered that her daughterâs death broke her mind, and you think that they were rightâthis woman is hardly a shell. You almost feel bad for what youâre doing to her.
Almost.
Unfortunately for Zelda, sheâs a fair trade in Fitzgeraldâs eyes, and until Dazai is back to you, she will be treated in the same way you assume Fitzgerald is treating his guest. Heâs lucky that you have a high enough opinion of him to believe that he wouldnât stoop to physical torture; heâs likely just trying to turn Dazai against you in the same way you have with Zelda, but Dazai will see through his manipulations.
He will.
He will.
He has to.
Your eyes slide shut as you fist one of Dazaiâs sweatersâa cashmere one youâd bought for him to wear when you take him to nice restaurants, he prefers them to button ups. It still smells like him. He wore it when you took him to a hibachi restaurant in Nishi-ku a few days before the argument the two of you had that led to all of this and you havenât had the chance to do laundry with everything going on.
You know that you donât have time for thisâthere are more things you have to do to prepare Tolstoyâs subordinate, Ilya Repin, for what youâll need him to do. You havenât even met the man yet; Tolstoy is embarrassed over it, he keeps apologizing and saying that Repin is fickle when heâs in the middle of projects, but youâre not exactly in a position to make demands when theyâre doing you a favor.Â
âShould you be laying around right now?â a familiar voice hums from the entrance to your bedroom. Your gaze flickers up to see Chuuya's concerned face staring down at you, head tilted to the side. âYou look like shit, yâknow?âÂ
Your lashes lower as you look away. âI didnât even hear you come up,â you say quietly. âShouldnât you be going to the meeting with the Family envoys with Piano Man?â
Youâre the one that usually handles negotiations with the Family, but Piano Man brushed you off when you said you would go. Told you to focus on getting things settled here with the Guild. Told you to get Dazai back. You almost wish he wouldâve let you go so you could busy yourself with something other than torturing yourself with reminders of Dazai.
Chuuya exhales as he tosses his hat onto your dresser before sitting down on the bed next to you. You almost want to turn away from him, but he doesnât let you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and drags you a little closer to him, and your eyes slide shut as you sink into him, hiding the way your vision blurs against his shoulder. Your breath shudders when you feel his hand running up and down your back, slow and soothingâChuuya is always warm, but somehow, even with his arm wrapped around you and your body curled up against his, you still feel cold.
âPiano Manâs fine,â Chuuya murmurs. âHe and Albatross are handling it. Wanted to come check on you.â
Ordinarily, you would make a snippy comment about him being sappy and he would get mad, smacking you over the head with a pillow. This time, you only let out a shaky breath and a noise of acknowledgement thatâs far too weak, and evidently, concerning considering how Chuuyaâs hand tenses on your back.
âWhy are you here, Chuuya?â you ask tiredly, voice a bit raspy, before he can say anything. âI thought you were mad at me.â
âNever that mad at you,â he says quietly. âNot enough to leave you alone. Especially right now.â
The next breath you take in is wet and ragged, the tears that mist your eyes threaten to spill over. Youâve been on the edge of collapse for over a week now and every time you find yourself alone, you think itâs finally going to happen, but for better or for worse, someone shows up and you have to pull yourself together. But now⊠Chuuyaâs arms are so familiar, too comfortingâliving in a world like you are, casual comfort is a rare delicacy, one that you can rarely allow yourself to indulge in.
âIâve got you,â Chuuya whispers. His arms tighten around you and he pulls you more firmly onto his chest, shifting so you could wrap your arms around his waist, your fingers digging into his gray waistcoat. Oh, you realize, desperately trying to bite back a sob bubbling in the back of your throat, itâs happening. âWeâll get him back.â
âIâm tired, Chuuya,â you say, the words wobbly as you fight off tears. Your breath hitches when his hand slides against your shoulder blades gently. âIâm so tired. I donât know how you did it.â
Your words donât register until you feel Chuuya pause in the absent strokes of your back.You look up at him, about to speak again to change the subject because you hadnât meant to bring up what happened two years ago, but he answers before you can.
âI didnât,â he says with a wry smile. âI destroyed a ward and shut down. You handled it, remember?â
 And you failed, you finish, but Chuuya can certainly hear the thoughts running through your head from how his arm tightens around you. He pushes himself up into a sitting position and shifts you to sit upright in the bed. You sigh when he reaches out to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him.
âWhat happened back then, it wasnât your fault. That shit was out of your control, you know that. Donât let it start getting in your head now,â Chuuya tells you firmly. âYou didnât fail back then, youâre not going to fail now. Yeah?âÂ
You donât even realize youâre crying until you feel Chuuya wiping the tears away. You avert your gaze and whisper, âI miss him, Chuuya. You were right. I never should have-â
You never shouldâve let this happen. You knew from the beginning that you couldnât let this go far, but you did. And even then, Chuuya warned you. He told you what would happen if you continued this, but you did.
Chuuya stares at you for a moment with an indecipherable expression before nodding to himself, pushing himself to his feet.Â
âCome on,â he says. âLetâs go force that fuckinâ Russian to talk to us. Iâm done waiting around for him to finish his shitty project.â
â
It is not Twain, James or Fitzgerald who walks through the door to Dazaiâs prison cell of a room days after your alleged release from prison. Itâs a girl who seems to be a little younger than himâshe wears a maidâs dress and has long crimson hair tied into two thick braids. Â
A girl who probably should not be there considering she looks shifty-eyed and nervous. Plus, Fitzgerald has not hid that heâs been making an effort to ensure that nobody else knows about Dazaiâs presence hereâheâs kept him isolated, and Dazai never hears anything going on outside of his room, so he assumes heâs purposely being secluded from the rest of the Guild for whatever reason. Probably has to do with the reason behind Fitzgerald keeping his knowledge of your ability on the lowâhe doesnât trust that people arenât listening and doesnât want this information to get out to anyone.
So this girl is likely not supposed to be here, but Dazai canât even bring himself to be curious as to why she is here, because heâs tired.
He is so tired.Â
His gaze is listless as he tracks the girl. She acts like sheâs the cornered animal as if she wasnât the one who willingly came into his room. She paces to the corner of the room furthest from him and presses herself into it, eyes narrowed on him, studying him like heâs some sort of specimen.Â
Sheâs his first visitor in eight hours. Dazai assumes that means itâs around morning. He doesnât know exactly what time it isâthereâs no windows in the room heâs been staying in, so he has no way to gauge the time of day, and everything has just been blending together. He tried to keep track of when they would bring him food to have some sense of the day and time, but he realized quickly that they were bringing it at uneven intervals so he couldnât figure it out.Â
He thinks it must be some kind of torture tacticâmaking the days seem impossibly long so that it feels like heâs been here even longer than he has. Itâs working to some extent because it is hard for him to tell how long heâs actually been here. Realistically, he knows it canât be longer than two weeks, but it feels like itâs been three or four.Â
âYou donât look special,â the girl finally says, her tone slightly accusatory. Dazaiâs eye twitches, heâs been reminded quite frequently by Twain that heâs nothing special and itâs exactly why you arenât coming for him, and he doesnât need to hear it from anyone else. âFrancis has never taken a foreign prisoner and not consulted the rest of the Board. Theyâre not happy.â
âDoes it look like I care?â Dazai asks irritably, rolling his eyes. He should probably try to get information out of this girl, but he has no patience for it.
The girl gives him a scowl in return, but her expression quickly returns to a more contemplative one. âIâm just curious. What organization are you affiliated with? Why didnât he tell us whatâs going on?â
Dazai canât help the snide comment that spills from his lips. âUs?â he mocks, looking pointedly at the maidâs dress she wore. âI donât think youâre a member of the Guildâs Board⊠Seems more like house-keeping.â
Her face flushes as red as her hair, eyes wild and angry, but more than that ashamed. Clearly, Dazai hit a sore spot and he canât even bring himself to feel guilty for the way the girl gets embarrassed over it. Her lashes flutter as she looks away, not speaking for a moment.
âI was,â she finally says, voice strained, cracking over the word âwasâ. âI was, and I wouldâve been consulted with the rest of them at the time, but I wasnât. I want to know why, who are you?â
Dazaiâs lips curl up into a taunting smile. âNone of your business,â he sings, leaning back against the wall and raising his eyebrows at the girl when she nearly snarls at him in response. âWho are you?â
âLucy,â she spits. âThere. I told you who I am, tell me who you are.â
âNope,â Dazai says with a grin. âWhy would I tell you that? I didnât promise to tell you who I was if you told me.âÂ
âYou-â Lucy raises her voice, furious, but then cuts herself off, looking nervously at the door. She gives him a sharp look and then continues just as angrily, but more quietly, âTell me who you are. Why didnât Francis tell us about you?â
Dazai doesnât respond. He thinks Fitzgerald has the right idea. The less people who know about him, the better, because if it does get out who he is to you, itâll just give more of your enemies ammunition against you. Dazaiâs done enough damage by now, he may as well mitigate as much as he can.
âYouâre with the Port Mafia, arenât you?â Lucy suddenly demands, and Dazai looks at her quickly, wondering how she managed to figure that out. She looks entirely too smug as she lifts her chin. âIt explains the sudden pressure theyâve been putting on us. They blew up the S.S. Zelda a couple days ago, intercepted some of the supplies that we were sending out to our people back home, and slaughtered a whole regiment of Margaret and Nathanielâs men. From what I heard from Mark, theyâve been nonstop for almost two weeks.You must be the reason why. Am I right?âÂ
âNone of your business,â Dazai replies again, but this time, his chest feels a bit lighter.Â
He makes sure not to let the sudden relief cross over his face, but Twain, James and Fitzgerald have made sure to leave him with no information on whatâs going on in the outside world. Especially any information regarding you. But now he knows. He knows that youâre out there still fighting for him, even if you havenât been able to get him back yet, youâve been fighting for himâyouâve been taking out the Guildâs bases, youâve been isolating them from their allies, youâve been backing them into a corner.Â
Suddenly, the past two weeks had become entirely more bearable. The heaviness that had been weighing on him wasnât as oppressive anymore and the nagging doubt that had been clouding his brain was all but gone.
He knew you hadnât forgotten about himâin his heart, he knew it, but getting verbal confirmation of it was much needed.Â
âOh, come on,â Lucy snaps. âI just-just tell me something. Tell me something I can bring back to Francis, anything, I just-
Dazaiâs gaze flickers up curiously, watching as Lucy straightens, inhaling sharply as she tries to hide the tears of frustration that suddenly clouded her eyes. Her hands are balled into fists at her side, she gnaws at her trembling bottom lip as she forces herself to settle down enough to speak without her voice wavering.
âI was,â he remembers her saying, and realizes instantly why she came down here.
âYou want something to bring back to Fitzgerald so you can get yourself out of the doghouse,â he drawls, eyes flicking over her. Her face flushes red, lips parting to protest Dazaiâs words but nothing escapes them. âYou want to know my opinion?âÂ
âI want information,â Lucy says. âI donât care about your opinion.â
âI think thatâs pathetic,â he shrugs, ignoring her. Lucyâs lips part in disbelief, but Dazai continues before she can say anything. âIt is. Youâre sneaking down here to beg me for information that you can bring back up to your boss because he demoted you⊠for what, exactly? Didnât bring him the right food?â
Lucy swallows thickly, unable to meet his eyes. âI lost a fight,â she whispers. âI lost a fight to one of your people, and I lost everything. I worked so hard to get where I was. So hard. Harder than you could ever understand and-â
âI donât care,â Dazai says, turning away from her. âIf you want my opinion, if you got demoted to being a housekeeper because you lost one fight, you have a shitty boss and should probably find somewhere else to work instead of begging for scraps just to be treated like shit.â
Dazai doesnât say anything else after that, and makes a show of not looking at her to make sure she knows the conversation is over. Luckily, she gives him no grief over itâin an instant, he hears the door slamming as she storms out of his room and Dazai lets out a soft sigh as he rests his head against the wall. Tired, lonely, and missing you so badly that it almost makes him ache.
Donât keep me waiting too much longer.
â
You are irritated.
Youâve been waiting in one of the larger rooms in the Mafia headquarters for twenty minutes nowâthe smell of paint is giving you a headache and the sheer insult happening before your eyes is nearly enough to send you over the edge. Ilya Repin has the audacity to keep his back turned to both you and Chuuya even when Tolstoy introduces you to him. He sits on his stool and continues to paint his canvas, ignoring the two of you quite blissfully: he doesnât look at you, doesnât greet you, doesnât acknowledge you.Â
Tolstoy is becoming increasingly more embarrassed if his red ears and apologetic looks have anything to say about it. Unfortunately, youâre not sure if any number of apologies will save him from Chuuyaâs righteous wrath at this point, because if you are irritated then he is downright murderous.Â
You watch your fellow executive from the corner of your eye as his eye twitches and his lip curls up. The thin thread of control he has snaps as his tongue kisses the back of his teeth and he starts to storm forward. You stop him quickly, grabbing his wrist and giving him a sharp look.
âHe-â Chuuya begins to hiss at you, but you only raise your hand to quiet him down and move forward yourself.
You donât know if youâre making a mistake by forcing Repinâs hand before heâs ready to help, but you do know that youâre tired and you need Dazai back desperately. Itâs been over a week now and if Fitzgerald has been half as aggressive with him as you have been with Zelda, then you know that heâs been playing mind games with Dazai. And Dazai is smart, yes, but how long can someone hold out when given no hope or reason to?
It takes ten long strides for you to cross the room, placing yourself between Repin and the canvas heâs working on. The man pauses, paint brush inches from your cheek, and then looks down at you with narrowed eyes.
âYouâre in my way,â he notes astutely.
âAnd you are in mine,â you counter with a thin smile. âIt seems weâre at an impasse.â
Ilya Repin is not what you expected. From how Tolstoy described him, you expected an old stubborn coot who had one foot in the grave and acted like each day was his last on earth. Instead, youâre met with a man who canât be much older than youâwith tousled brown hair and light blue eyes, youâd think he was pretty if he wasnât so irritating.Â
He looks down at you with a pinched expression, like heâs considering painting right over your face, but after what feels like an eternity, he lets out a dramatic sigh and glares at Tolstoy over his shoulder.
âI told you not to let anyone bother me until I was done,â he complains, rolling his eyes. You watch as Chuuyaâs eyes bulge at the way Repin dismisses you, a familiar red glow flickering around his fists, but Tolstoy responds to Repin before the artist can find himself splattered on his own painting.
âIlya.â Tolstoy spits out something in such rapid-fire Russian that even you canât catch what he said. Whatever it is, it makes Repin roll his eyes again before turning to you with a smile thatâs too sweet for comfort.
âHer Highness finally decides to grace me with her presence. Honestly, I thought youâd be down here days agoâyouâre awfully patient for someone whose loverâs life is on the line⊠Unless, you donât actually love him? But then why go through all of this trouble?â Repin hums, leaning forward so close that it has you taking a step back, forgetting that his painting is behind you. His hand darts out to curl around the back of your neck, stopping you from hitting the wet paint while at the same time forcing you even closer to him. He looks down at you through his lashes, nose nearly brushing yours as he says, âDonât mess up my painting.â
You click your tongue and step away from him, careful not to let it show just how disconcerted you are by his casual disrespect. Chuuya looks like heâs on the verge of bringing the whole building down, Tolstoy has left a wide berth between the two of them as the gravity manipulator becomes more and more vexed by his subordinate. You give him a look to tell him that itâs fine, but it doesnât seem to ease him in the slightest.
âYouâre lucky that youâre Leoâs cousin,â you finally say, giving Repin an equally saccharine smile as you stand a few feet away from him. He finally spins in his stool to turn his back to his painting and his attention onto you, a curious expression on his face as he looks down at you. âIâve had peopleâs tongues taken for less.â
âWhat a waste that would be, my tongue could be used for things much more pleasurable than glossectomy,â Repin replies easily, tone laced with innuendo as his lips curl up into an amused smirk.Â
Unbothered, you amend your statement. âYour hands, thenâa fitting punishment for a painter, I think.â
Unfortunately, Repin is equally unphased, holding his hands out as his smile widens. âBut then of what use would I be to you? I thought you needed my ability,â he says.
You raise your eyebrows, silently beckoning him to explain what exactly his ability is because Tolstoy thought it would be better coming from the ability user himself. The man sighs and hops off of his stool, speaking as he starts to put away his painting equipment.
âEssentially, I can take memories from people and store them in my paintings,â Repin explains, walking over to a covered painting and pulling the cloth off of it, revealing a scene of a midnight rendezvous between two lovers. âThis is a favor I did for an acquaintance. He was cheating on his wife, his wife figured it out and was going to grill him, he asked me to remove his memories of his mistress so his wife didnât realize he was lying. I donât really like him, so I keep the painting on me and light the bottom on fire whenever he irritates me.â
âWhat does that do?â Chuuya asks, side-eyeing the painting before turning his attention to Repin distrustfully.
Repin gives him a once over before looking back at you pointedly. You donât have to look at Chuuya to know that he must be livid, so you give Repin an equally pointed look and wait for him to answer Chuuyaâs question.
Repin sighs. âBurning the painting returns the memories to whoever theyâd been taken from, so whenever I light the bottom on fire. He starts to get that looming feeling that heâs forgotten something important. Heâs tortured with that feeling of something being on the tip of your tongue but unable to fully remember it. He calls me all wound up about it whenever I do⊠I think I might be his only friend, which is kind of sad considering I can hardly stand the sight of himâŠâ
Heâs rambling more to himself now than to you, frowning as he taps the tip of one of his paint brushes to his chin. You press your lips together as you thinkâremoval is good, you need to have Fitzgeraldâs memories of Dazai gone, along with any other of his subordinates that mightâve seen or met him.
But you need more than removal.
âWhat about implanting memories?â you ask, interrupting his stream of babbles. He casts you a curious look. âYou can remove, but can you implant new ones to take the place of old ones?â
He studied you now, an intrigued expression on his face as if heâs seeing you in a new light. âIâve done it once,â he says after a few moments. âItâs a far more⊠demanding process.â
âHow so?â
âI need to have a painting ready for it,â he says. âMore than that, I need a scene. A story. Every painting has a storyâthatâs the theory my ability is built on. Memories are stories that can be captured in paintings. I need to have the same depth of detail that a memory would have to make a painting that can be implanted as one. Itâs much harder than youâd think. One lack of detail, one inconsistency, it could throw everything off, and once someone becomes suspicious that an implanted memory is a false one, it unravels. I burn the paintings here to return stolen memories; they, figuratively, burn the implanted memories in their mind once they start getting suspicious.â
Not quite as reliable as youâd hope, but you can make it work. You have to make it work. Youâre running out of time, each day that passesâeach hour that passes⊠You need to make your move, and you need to do it as soon as possible.
âIf I can give you a detailed story, how long would it take you to create a painting that can be implanted as a memory?â you question.
Repin smiles, tilting his head to the side. âWith the right muse? A couple of hours,â he murmurs.
Finally, you think. The relief that hits you is almost debilitating; you let out a sigh as you nod, giving Chuuya a long look. For the first time since your arrest, you feel an inkling of hope; you see the first rays of the sun breaking over the horizon, shattering the long night thatâs been hanging over you.
The end is in sight. Youâll have Dazai back before nightfall.Â
âGood,â you say. âIâll be back in fifteen minutes. Have everything ready to start.â
You donât bother to listen to the response, turning on your heel to leave the room. You have one last thing to take care of with Zelda, and then, you can sit down with Repin to finish up the final preparations. Itâs almost vindicating when you pull out your phone to send a location and time to Fitzgerald.
Just a little longer. Iâm almost there.Â
â
Dazai is lounging in bed when the door opens again.Â
âI was sleeping,â Dazai says irritably. He wasnât sleeping, but they donât need to know that. Twain and James are the ones unfortunately gracing him with their presence, which is odd considering theyâve never shown up at the same before. âWhat?â
âUp,â Twain says, clapping his hands together twice as he ushers Dazai out of bed. âCâmon, kid. Francis is waiting. Letâs go.â
Dazai scowls when Twain grabs his bicep to pull him off the bed, slapping away the other manâs hand. His skin crawls where his fingers had once beenâDazai has never enjoyed physical touch, not until he met you, but even then itâs limited to you and you alone.
He misses you.
A heavy air settles around him as he drags himself out of bed. He doesnât know why heâs started to descend into such a depressive spiral since Lucyâs departure from the room, he thought he would be happy knowing that you havenât forgotten about him, but heâs only become increasingly more despondent.Â
His fingers feel numb and clunky as he pulls on a pair of shoesâyou bought him them. You bought him everything heâs wearing right now, actually. Despite the fact that Fitzgerald has brought Dazai several new pairs of clothes to wear, he hasnât changed out of the outfit heâd arrived in. Heâs sure it smells terribly and he must look like a mess, but Dazaiâs mind has always been cruel and now more than ever, it enjoys playing tricks on him.
Heâs never slept well before. Usually he doesnât sleep at all, but when he does, heâs plagued with nightmares. The past few days, weeks, however long heâs been here, itâs been no different. When he sleepsâwhich is frustratingly often because of the head injury he received the day they kidnapped himâhe wakes from long, vivid nightmares of lives where he never met you. He wakes entirely convinced that the entire past few months with you was just an elaborate dream that his mind made up to torture him, that you donât exist, that youâre just a figment of his imagination created to show him a life that he couldâve had if he were more normal.
Itâs only the physical evidence of you that drags him out of a dangerous spiralâthe clothes you bought him, the lingering scent of you on him, and the few marks that remain on his body from the night spent with you in the cabin. But your scent is fading and the marks are disappearing, so all he has is the clothes on his back to remind him that youâre real, youâre alive, youâll come for him.
Youâll come for him.Â
âWhere are we going?â Dazai finally asks, finishing getting on his shoes, but he doesnât budge as he stares at the two of them, waiting for a response. They donât give him one. He wonders if the Guild is done with him, if theyâre skipping over torture and going right to execution. âHello? I asked a question.â
âI told ya,â Twain tells him, stepping out of the room and raising his eyebrows, urging him to move along. âTo Francis.â
âBut why?â Dazai presses. âWhy didnât he come here? Where are we going?â
Twain and James share a long look, like they donât want to explain to Dazai where theyâre going. And-
And Dazai doesnât dare get his hopes upâhe knows betterâbut itâs impossible to stop the way his body physically reacts to the realization he just came to. His throat swells and he works on over time trying to stop the way his heart suddenly starts racing. He canât.
Twain wouldâve eagerly told him if they were marching him off to be executed; heâs been gloating over the fact that you âleft him to rotâ since you were released from prison. If this were the Guild getting rid of him, Twain would be just as vocal about that, but itâs not, so could it beâŠ?Â
He stares at the two members of the Guild. He wants to ask, but he doesnât want to be disappointed, so he waits to see what they say.
Itâs an eternity before Twain rolls his eyes and says, âSeems your girl didnât forget about you. She called for a parley. Weâre going out to meet her.â
Dazai lets out a wavering puff of air, one that he canât bite back. The tension in his shoulders instantly dissipates, after what seems like weeks of darkness and despair, Dazai finally sees the light at the end of the tunnel.
âI told you,â he tells them, voice a bit more breathless than he meant for it to be. âI told you sheâd come. Maybe you shouldâve listened to me.â
Twain clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. âGet moving,â he snips, forcing Dazai out of the room and leading him down unfamiliar halls. Dazai is quick to map out the place, noting all of the twists and turns just in case he somehow ends back up here. Heâll get out on his own if he has to, heâs not spending another night in this place. âDonât get your hopes up. I doubt sheâll be able to come to an agreement with Francis.â
Dazai is a bit too smug as he says, âIf she reaches out to meet you, then itâs already over. She wouldnât have reached out to meet you if she wasnât sure things would land in her favor, otherwise she wouldâve reached out days ago.â
Itâs the truthâDazai knows it. His faith in you wasnât misplaced, never has been and never will be. You just needed time to make sure everything was in place because you didnât want to find yourself on unequal grounds during the negotiation. He almost feels giddy as he follows Twain and James out of the building, walking in the direction of a long black car.
Their base is in one of the southern wards, he recognizes immediately. Sakae or Totsuka⊠maybe Kanazawa. Itâs in a residential district, and there's a road sign to Kamakura, so he must be in Sakae or the southern part of Totsuka. His gaze flickers back over to the two escorting him, wondering why they wouldnât have blindfolded him before leading him out of the building.
Maybe they think it doesnât matterâthey donât intend on coming back to this base for whatever reason after their meeting with you, or maybe⊠Dazaiâs gaze lingers on the side of Twainâs face, noting the way his jaw is tight and his eyes keep flickering around aimlessly. He looks over to James, seeing the larger man in a similar state.
âYouâre nervous,â Dazai voices, still entirely too smug. When Twain doesnât respond, only giving him a sharp side-eye, he realizes that his assumption was right, and it makes him even more amused. As he gets into the black car, he gives the man a simpering smile before saying, âGood, you should be.â
Fitzgerald is already in the car waiting for them. Heâs so hyper-focused on his phone that he doesnât even realize the three of them entered the car until Twain says something. Dazai should probably be paying attention to what theyâre saying, but he finds himself dizzy over the thought of seeing you again.Â
When the car starts moving, his heart starts racing. He doesnât know where theyâre meeting you, but it canât possibly be more than a thirty minute drive and that means heâs thirty minutes from seeing you again after daysâweeks, maybeâof isolation. He finds himself nervous, almost, because he doesnât really know what to expect from youâare you mad at him for what happened? Do you still want to be with him? Dazai is unsure because he thinks that even if you did want nothing to do with him anymore, youâd still make sure to protect him if he got caught up in this.
He chews the inside of his cheek, doubt whittling away at his excitement; heâs only drawn back to the present when Fitzgerald responds to something that Twain says.
âI havenât heard from Zelda today,â he murmurs, looking a bit unsure. âShe usually calls when she wakes up in the morning.â
Zelda, Dazai notes the name down, recalling that Lucy had mentioned it too and thinking back to the comment Fitzgerald had made during the second conversation he had with him. Iâve only met one other⊠you remind me much of her. His gaze flickers down to the manâs left hand, seeing the gold wedding band sitting on his ring finger.
Fitzgerald notices Dazaiâs lingering gaze and sighs before looking away, staring out the windshield as the driver continues down the road in the direction of Nishi-ku. After a few moments, he says quietly, âZelda is my wife⊠All of this, itâs for her.â
His tone is solemn, eyes heavy as he stares ahead. Dazai tilts his head to the side as he studies the older man, curious. âAll of this?â he asks dryly. âYou kidnapped me because of your wife?â
Fitzgeraldâs lips curve up into a resigned smile. âYes,â he says. Dazaiâs brows furrow, mind racing as he tries to put together the few puzzle pieces heâs been given. What does his endeavor in Yokohama and with the Port Mafia have anything to do with his wife? Heâs missing something. âIâve done terrible things in the name of love, Iâve gone well past the point of no return. I have to see things through now.â
âI would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu. I have done terrible things for you, and I would do them again and again and again.â
Dazai misses you. The reminder of your words from the beach house makes his body ache with longing. Yet, Fitzgeraldâs words donât settle well with Dazai. They make his skin crawl with nerves, itching uncomfortably beneath his bandagesâhe needs to replace them, heâs hadnât had the chance to change them since the Guild kidnapped him. Theyâre all yellowed and grimy now, and theyâre almost intolerable against his skin. He wants to go home. Wants to be with you.Â
âWhat do you mean?â Dazai presses. âWhat does this have anything to do with your wife?â
Dazai figured that the Guild was just trying to expand into Japan and wanted their first foothold to be in Yokohama to unseat the Port Mafia as the reigning leaders of the Eastern Hemisphereâs underworld⊠but what would that have to do with his wife? It doesnât make sense. Thereâs something heâs missing, something that runs deeper than just territorial conflicts.Â
Before Fitzgerald can answer, Twain clears his throat, giving Dazai a suspicious look before speaking to his boss. âIâm sure Zelda is fine,â Twain says. âThe nights have been getting longer and colder back home, she always gets more quiet when winter comes around.â
Any disposition Fitzgerald mightâve had to answer Dazaiâs questions is gone as the man sighs and leans back in his chair. Dazai shoots Twain a dirty look, to which he receives an entirely too smug one. Bitter and irritated, he hopes that you humble the redhead severely in the meeting.
âYouâre right,â Fitzgerald says more to himself than to anyone else. âIâll see if J.D. can stop by the high-rise after this meeting, he offered to check in on her since he decided not to come along.â
Fitzgerald doesnât seem inclined to continue any conversation at all. He looks out the window of the passenger seat and a tense silence falls over the carâDazai is wildly uncomfortable between Twain and James. He can feel both of their thighs bumping against his with each turn the car takes and the forced physical contact makes all of this even more unbearable.Â
The seconds feel like hours, the minutes feel like days. When the car finally pulls to a stop, Dazai is itching to claw past Twain so he can have fresh air and personal space. The other man takes far too long to open the doorâDazai thinks itâs on purpose from the way he gives him an entertained look. Dazai scowls at Twain and shoulders right past him, frustrated and antsy, and then-
And then he sees you.
Dazaiâs breath catches when he steps out of the car, nearly tripping over his foot when he realizes that youâre standing outside of the teahouse. There are two people on either side of you, but heâs tunnel-visioned on you and you alone. The world could be burning around him and all he would be able to see was you.
You look beautiful. You always look beautiful, but you look especially beautiful now when heâs been deprived of the sight of you for so long. The sun is setting over the bay and Dazai thinks he could drown in the image of you, that he could die happy now that heâs seen you again. Youâre dressed neatly in a suit and your expression is cold and closed off, but he can see the way your eyes soften as soon as heâs in sight and it makes his whole body warm with a comfort heâs been so awfully deprived of the past few weeks.
He loves you. Heâs missed you. The apology that heâs been rehearsing every day since he was kidnapped threatens to burst from his lips along with everything he wished he said to you but thought heâd never have the chance to. He refrains, if only barely, because he knows now isn't the time for this, not in this setting, but he itches to be at your side, to feel your skin on his again.Â
âDonât try anything funny, yeah?â Twain says with an unkind smile as he nudges Dazai forward. He feels the muzzle of a gun pressed to his lower back, a silent threat for if he was thinking about running to your side.
Fitzgerald walks in front of the three of them, stopping at the bottom of the stairs youâre standing onâa power play, Dazai recognizes, you on a higher ground forcing them to crane their necks to look up at you. Now that Dazai is only partially dazzled by your appearance, he recognizes Nakahara Chuuya and Piano Man on either side of you. The three of you seem to be purposely blocking the entrance of the teahouse and donât make any effort to move once Dazai and three members of the Guild start making their way to you.
âDo you intend for us to parley out in the open? I wouldâve thought that the Port Mafia would appreciate discretion more than that,â Fitzgerald notes dryly.
âIâm afraid we will not be parleying under the current circumstances,â you sigh, and your voice. God, your voice is heavenly, heâs missed it desperately. âYou send your⊠guest over to the car waiting right over there, and then we can talk.â
Hm? Dazai watches curiously, wondering what youâre playing at. Thereâs no way that the Guild will just hand over their leverage before going into a negotiation, even Dazai knows that much. He knows that you wouldnât have called this meeting unless you got yourself on even footing with them, but even footing wouldnât be enough to force Fitzgerald to hand his only advantage over to you. UnlessâŠÂ
âUnfortunately, youâre in no position to be making demands,â Fitzgerald says with a thin smile. âOnce weâve come to an understanding, Iâll be happy to return your lover to you.â
Lover, Dazai thinks a bit dreamily as if heâs not currently a hostage.
You let out a soft laugh, but itâs not a kind one. Dazai snaps himself out of the borderline trance he was in because of how he was addressed when he hears it, gaze flickering back over to you. The smile on your face is small, but equally unkind, like you know something that Fitzgerald doesnât. From the way Fitzgerald stiffens, he seems to realize that too.
âI fear that Iâm the only one in any position to be making demands,â you say light-heartedly. Dazai watches as you slide something off of the ring finger of your left hand, brows furrowing as you hold up a ring between your thumb and pointer finger, showcasing it for Fitzgerald. âBeautiful ring, truly⊠You must really love her.â
You flick the ring toward them carelessly. Dazai watches as it bounces against the ground with a soft plink once, then twice, and then everything descends into chaos around him.Â
His eyes widen as a gold glow emanates from around Fitzgeraldâwithin a blink, heâs in front of you, Chuuya and Piano Man, fist raised as he threatens to land a devastating blow onto you. Dazaiâs lips part in a cry that doesnât even have the chance to escape his lips because Chuuya is instantly between the two of you, the Tainted Sorrow activated as he throws Fitzgerald back roughly into the road.Â
The gun that had been pressed to Dazaiâs back is now at his temple, and as Fitzgerald rises back to his feet, you raise your hands in mock surrender.Â
âCareful now,â you say, an amused lilt to your tone. âWe donât want things to get violent before negotiations even start. Zelda is a lovely woman, Iâd hate for something to happen to her.â
âGive me my wife back,â Fitzgerald says, voice strained, but he deactivates his ability, expression hard as he glares at you. âShe has nothing to do with any of this. She-â
âNeither did he,â you interrupt, the easy tone replaced with a much colder one. âLet him go, and then you can come in and we can talk.â
The standstill that takes feels like an eternity. James and Twain stare at Fitzgerald, waiting for orders, and Fitzgerald stares at you, angry and frustrated. Itâs almost odd seeing the suave and collected man thatâs held him captive the past few days acting like a cornered animal. Dazai supposes he canât blame himâif heâs done all of this for his wife only for you to now have her as a hostage⊠Dazai would pity him if he still wasnât so bitter about the head wound and weeks of captivity.Â
Finally, Fitzgerald nods. After a momentâs hesitation and with a conflicted expression, Twain drops the gun thatâs pointed at his head. Fitzgerald is stiff as he makes his way forward, Twain and James a step behind him, leaving Dazai standing alone at the bottom of the steps of the teahouse.
You smile thinly as you step out of the way for them, letting them walk into the building. âGood choice,â you say quietly, mockingly because you know that he didnât have another choice.Â
Chuuya and Piano Man share a quick look with you before following the Guild members into the building, leaving you alone outside with him. Dazai stares up at you, all of his practiced words failing him, he wants to walk up the stairs to you but his legs are rooted to the ground. He doesnât need to move though, because as soon as the doors shut behind them, youâre rushing down from your high ground to him.
Dazai nearly collapses into you as soon as he feels your arms around him. One arm curls around his shoulders, hand cradling the back of his head, and the other wraps around his waist to hold him steady when he leans his full body weight onto you. He has so much he wants to say to you, but he canât even speak a single wordâhis breath is ragged and his nails bite into the back of your suit jacket, face pressed in the crook of your neck.
Iâm sorry, he wants to say, Iâm sorry for what I said, Iâm sorry for running out on you, Iâm sorry for putting you in this position, Iâm-
âIâm sorry,â you say quietly. Your voice cracks over your words and Dazaiâs throat spasms as he swallows back a lump. âIâm sorry it took me so long.â
âItâs okay,â he replies, voice muffled against your skin. His lashes flutter as his eyes slide shut, basking in the familiarity of your arms. For the first time in weeks, Dazai feels safe, he feels warm, he feels like heâs home. âI knew you would come.â
Your arms tighten around him and Dazai almost wants to ask you to skip the meeting with the Guild and come home with him. He doesnâtâmostly because he doesnât think he has any grounds to ask you to do anything after everything thatâs happened, but also because a part of him worries that you might agree to it and he knows this meeting is critical.Â
When you pull away from him, Dazai barely bites back a protest but he canât stop the way his face drops as soon as your arms drop from around him. You notice, a soft smile curling at your lips as you lift your hand to cup his cheek. Dazai leans into your touch, eyes lidded as he looks down at you.
âI shouldnât have left,â Dazai whispers after a few moments. Heâs always struggled with apologies, and even now, the words taste like ash in his mouth, but he forces them out. âIâve caused you so much trouble, I-â
âNo,â you say, shaking your head, not even letting him finish. âDonât. I shouldnât have let the argument escalate the way it did, I knew better. What happened isnât your fault.â
Dazai begs to differ. Your words donât ease his guilt, but he doesnât want to argue with you about it, so he lets it drop. His eyes flutter shut again when you run your thumb along his cheekbone, fingers carding absently through the tips of his hair. He doesnât want to leave you again, almost wants to ask if he could stay for the meeting, but again, he doesnât.
âAtsushi and Kyouka are going to go back to the apartment with you,â you finally tell him what heâs been dreading, and he knows itâs only a matter of time before you send him off. âI wonât be long. I promise.â
Dazai lets out a heavy sigh, a bit more dramatic than he intended, and you give him a fond smile.
âI left some crab linguine in the microwave for you,â you add. Dazai lights up at the mention of his favorite foodâhe hasn't had crab since the night he was kidnapped by the Guild. âGo, the quicker I can get this over with, the quicker we can get home and curl up in bed together.â
Dazai makes a show of pouting and being unhappy, but he does step away from you in the direction of the car. He doesnât get out of armâs reach before heâs pausing and looking at you again, you raise your eyebrows, silently asking him whatâs wrong.
âI love you,â he says very softly, almost like heâs hesitant. Not hesitant in his love for you, just hesitant voicing the words out loud when he knows how much the world likes to fuck with him. Itâs not the first time heâs said it, but itâs the first time he said it first.
You give him a small, adoring smile. âI love you too, Osamu.â
Dazai lingers for a few seconds longer before making his way over to the car. As his fingers curl around the handle of the door, he pauses and looks back at you, remembering something crucial that heâd been meaning to tell you, calling your name.
âYeah?â you ask with a frown, looking a bit concerned.
âThe Guild isnât working alone,â he says. âFitzgerald⊠he mentioned that he had allies, referred to them as rats that he didnât trust not to be spying on conversations. He also knows what your ability is, one of your executives is feeding information to him and the Ivory Eagle.â
Your expression shifts into a more unreadable one, gaze shifting from him to look out at the horizon. âRats, hm?â you say quietly, more to yourself than him. âThat explains a lot, actually.â
Dazai isnât sure what you mean by that, but he figures heâll bother you for more information when he gets the chance later. He gets into the car with another quiet goodbye, hardly paying attention as Atsushi and Kyouka greet him. His eyes stay on you even as the car pulls away, and you donât budge from your spot at the bottom of the steps until the car is out of sight.
Somehow, Dazai still has a looming feeling that heâs not out of the woods yet.
â
You enter the teahouse a few moments after the car disappears around the bend leading to the main street of Nishi-ku. The air is brisk and familiar, youâve spent many days and nights at this teahouse dealing with business for the Mafia. It's your favorite place to bring adversaries for negotiationsâthe owners are always quick to accommodate you even for last minute meetings, and theyâre pleasant enough company when youâre there early waiting for the other party.Â
Despite having seen and held Dazai, you still somehow feel discouraged. Thereâs an unexplainable heaviness in your chest as you make your way into the private room in the back of the teahouse, closing the door quietly behind you.
Chuuya and Piano Man sit on either side of the empty chair left for you; Fitzgerald opposite you with his two lackeys on either side of him. An executive of the Family sits at the head of the negotiation tableâoriginally, you wanted Tolstoy to oversee the negotiation, but you figured that Fitzgerald would be at ease with a more neutral party as the host, and two executives of the Family were already in Yokohama to meet with Piano Man. While the Family is definitely more aligned with the Port Mafia, they also have significant business endeavors in Guild territory, whereas the whole world knows that the Three Deaths and the Port Mafia are pretty much extensions of each other because of your relationship with Tolstoy.
The Family executive is a young womanâyou recognize her vaguely, most of your meetings have been with Goldoni himself, but she usually follows along like a silent shadow. You think Goldoni has her set to take over as the next âFatherâ after him. Regardless, as soon as you take your seat at the negotiation table, she looks at you, waiting for you to begin the discussions.Â
A tactical advantage, one that you appreciate.Â
âNow that-â
âWhere is she?â Fitzgerald interrupts, knuckles white around the edge of the table. âWhere is my wife?âÂ
The executive of the Family turns an unimpressed look onto Fitzgerald. What a fumble, you think, amused. Negotiations arenât just political devices to create a space for peaceful conferences between rival factions, theyâre also used as avenues that can make or break alliances. Disrespect the mediator of the negotiation and you might just find yourself on the outs of the entire organizationâthe mediator chooses who gives the first dialogue of the negotiation, you donât ignore that unless you want to piss people off.
You raise your eyebrows at Fitzgerald. âI didnât say I would give her back to you if you let him go. I said we would talk.â
Fitzgerald slams his hands against the table and rises to his feet. His two subordinates share a look with one another, and you feel Chuuyaâs hand rest on your knee, ready to activate his ability at a momentâs notice if Fitzgerald tries to attack you.
âGive me my wife back,â Fitzgerald says, jaw tight and voice rough, clearly trying to restrain himself. âI let him go, so give me her back.â
Your lips curve up into a small smile, and then you say, âNo.â
Chuuya doesnât sigh, he knows better than to not show a united front at the negotiation table, but you know that even though he knows this is necessary, he doesnât like it. Still, you find yourself enjoying itâwhat Fitzgerald is feeling right now, youâve felt for almost two weeks. Youâve never claimed to not be vindictive.Â
Your smile widens a bit when Fitzgerald stares at you, expression entirely unreadable. You raise your hands up casually as you shrug, finding the whole situation entertaining.Â
âWhy would I do that?â you ask, amusement clear in your tone. âI never wouldâve given Dazai up in your position. Much less without even getting a promise out of me to get your own hostage freed. Thatâs crazy.â
You almost expect Fitzgerald to launch himself right at you, no ability activated, just throwing hands, but after what feels like an eternity, he sits back down, back rigid and teeth grinding together.Â
âWhat do you want then?â Fitzgerald asks, his voice is still strained but heâs calmer now.
âWhy are you in Yokohama?â Instead of telling him what you want, you hit him with a question yourself, watching him carefully. Now that heâs calmer, your ability starts to go to workânot nearly enough to override how on edge he is because of the situation with his wife, but enough for you to work with. âWe both know this isnât about territory, Fitzgerald-san. Letâs start this off right; tell me what youâre really here for, and maybe we can come to an understanding.â
Fitzgeraldâs subordinates share a look with one another, and Fitzgerald himself does not seem keen on answering your question. Interesting, you think, whatâs so important that it makes him hesitate even under these circumstances? This is something big, it has to be, especially if Dazai heard correctly and Dostoevsky is involvedâthat man only ever gets involved with conflicts that have high stakes that he knows he can win, and that doesnât bode well for you.Â
âIt is about territory to some extent,â Fitzgerald finally says, resigned. When you narrow your eyes, he shakes his head and continues. âWeâre looking for something here in Yokohama. So yes, we were trying to get a foothold in the city so we would have an easier time looking.â
What?
You can feel both Piano Man and Chuuya give you a sharp look, but you keep your gaze trained on Fitzgerald. Your mind races trying to figure out what he means by this, but you just donât have enough pieces to put the puzzle together. You need to press for more.Â
âLooking for what?â you ask coolly.
Fitzgerald stares at you, lips pressed together, expression cold and conflicted. You stare right back, unrelenting. After a few moments, he shakes his head and says, âA book.â
âA book?â you echo.Â
âA book,â Fitzgerald confirms. âA reality altering book.â
âWhat?â Piano Man asks sharply, unable to help himself. You give him a look from the corner of your eyeâonly the two people sitting in the central seats are supposed to speak during negotiations, but you honestly canât blame him, because you donât fully understand what Fitzgerald just said to you.
âWhat do you mean?â you ask slowly. âA reality altering book here in Yokohama? Where did you hear this from? How do you know itâs real?âÂ
âFyodor Dostoevsky of the House of the Dead-â You almost roll your eyes. Of course, itâs him. Youâre glad you decided to go with the route you did now. â-approached me about it. Itâs something that I simply canât let pass me by⊠my daughterâŠâ
Fitzgeraldâs face twists in pain; you almost feel bad for everything youâve done with Zelda. Almost. His two subordinatesâTwain and Jamesâlower their gaze to the table, frowning. After a few moments of silence, and carefully constructing a question to figure out if this âreality altering bookâ might be realâ, you speak again.
âAnd how do you know this book is real? I know enough about you to know you wouldnât start a full blown war over what could just be a wild goose hunt, what makes you think this thing actually exists?âÂ
âJames was with me when I spoke to Dostoevsky, his ability allows him to decipher whether or not someone is lying. More than that, Iâve seen the Book at work,â Fitzgerald says. Your eyes widen a bit in surprise at his words, more so at the fact that he doesnât seem to be lying. âDostoevsky⊠he has one page of this Book. To prove its ability, and to secure an alliance with the Order of the Clocktower and the Guild, he used a section of it. The Book is real, I was promised a page of it to bring my daughter back if I helped Dostoevsky retrieve it.â
What the fuck.Â
You stare at Fitzgerald, careful to keep any emotion off your face even though youâre full of turmoil on the inside. If thereâs even a chance that Fitzgerald is telling the truth and thereâs now a reality altering Book at play, and not only that, if Dostoevsky already has a page of it, that changes everything. Thereâs no telling what has or has not been altered, the entire truth of this reality is at question. How much damage could be done with a single page? How does it work? Thereâs too many variables.Â
It might not even be real, you think, trying to calm your racing thoughts. Dostoevsky is notoriously manipulative, thereâs always a chance that he manufactured the existence of this book to get Fitzgerald and Christie to do his dirty work. It wouldnât be the first time heâs pulled something like thatâhe couldâve used someone elseâs ability to make it seem like the page of the Book altered reality to âprove itâ to the two other leaders⊠but somehow you have a feeling that might not be the case.Â
âWhat does the Book have to do with the weretiger you put the bounty on?â you ask.Â
Youâre starting to feel a bit anxiousâthis is way more than you anticipated, and thereâs so many bad implications that you almost feel overwhelmed, but nowâs not the time to let it get to you. You need to focus, you canât afford to shut down. You need to understand whatâs happening before finishing up this negotiation, especially now that Fyodor Dostoevsky and Agatha Christie are seemingly involved.Â
âWe were told that the weretiger is essential in finding the Book,â Fitzgerald says after a few moments. âI wasnât told more than that. I intended on getting my hands on him to figure out why.â
Atsushi doesnât know anything about this Book. The first thing you did when you got ahold of him was interrogate him for any reason the Guild mightïżœïżœïżœve put so high of a bounty on his head. Your mind drifts back to Dazaiâs theoryâthat maybe the tiger is a separate consciousness, maybe the tiger knows something about the Book, but youâre not going to voice your theories now. Youâll talk about it with Chuuya and Piano Man later.
âI see,â you say with a thin smile. âHow enlightening.â
âWhereâs my wife?â Fitzgerald asks again. âI told you everything you want, I-â
âI didnât promise to give you your wife back if you answered my questions,â you tell him dryly, tone a bit mocking. âThatâs twice now. Youâd think you would learn.â
You almost commend Fitzgerald for not instantly snapping at you. He stares at you, expression tight and voice strained as he speaks, âTell me what you want for my wife. Enough of this.â
You watch him listlessly for a few moments, trying to decide if thereâs any more pressing information that you should get for him. Youâll have a chance later, but you need to figure out if thereâs anything more that might affect the plan youâve concocted with Tolstoy and Repin. You donât think there is, and you have to be careful with what you say anyway considering the human lie detector is sitting right next to Fitzgerald, so after a hesitation that lasts too long for Fitzgeraldâs comfort, you finally give him your answer.
âHow many of your subordinates are aware of Dazaiâs existence?â
âJust the three of us,â Fitzgerald replies. Your eyes narrow, so he continues, âI didnât want it to get out to Dostoevsky. I was worried he would capitalize on the situation before I could. These two were only made aware because they were the ones I had bring him in.â
âIs that so?â you ask coolly. âAnd which one was the one that left the massive bruise on the side of his face?âÂ
You donât get a response, you donât expect to, but you do catch the way that both glance at the man sitting on the leftâHenry James. Your gaze slides from the man over to the far right corner where Akutagawa is standing; Klaus is in the far left one, but Akutagawa will be more brutal if you let him off his leash for this, and you want him to suffer. The boy catches your gaze and gives an imperceptible nod, acknowledging your silent request.
âIt doesnât matter,â you say even though youâve gotten your answer. âIâll release Zelda to you, but thereâs one non-negotiable condition to it.â
âTell me it,â Fitzgerald demands. âIâll do it.â
You lean back in your seat, tilting your head to the side as you study him for a moment, and then you tell him, âYouâll meet with a friend of mine. He has an ability that allows him to alter memories. All memories of Dazai will be removed.â
The room goes silent at once. The redhead, Twain, stiffens in his seat and casts a justifiably wary look toward Fitzgerald who looks caught off guard by the request. You imagine that he probably assumed you would demand he stops working with Dostoevsky and leaves Yokohama. You donât need to demand that, because that will come as soon as Repin does his job⊠but Fitzgerald doesnât know that, of course.Â
âHow do I know you wonât mess with other things in my head? That youâll only remove those memories?â Fitzgerald asks tightly.
Originally, you planned on lying and telling him that Repinâs ability didnât have the power to do anything more than memory removal, but you canât do that with Henry James sitting next to Fitzgerald, so you're forced to pivot.
You shrug and say, âYouâll have to trust me not to.â
Fitzgerald stares at you, and it feels like hours even though itâs only been a few passing seconds, but when he speaks, you feel as though youâve won.Â
âFine,â Fitzgerald agrees, expression pinched and conflicted, swallowing thickly. âFine.â
Your lips curve up into a small smile when you realize heâs decided to trust youânot that there was much of a choice for him if he ever wanted to see his wife again.Â
âGood,â you say softly.
Still, a fatal mistake.Â
â
âSo⊠uh,â a white-haired boy says awkwardly as soon as Dazai settles in the car next to him. A girl with black hair dressed in a red kimono sits on the other side of him, back stiff and expression eerily blank as she watches Dazaiâshe doesnât blink, hardly breathes, Dazai is almost unnerved. âDonât mind Kyouka. She takes our missions⊠really seriously, and youâre our mission right now, soâŠâ
âIâm your mission?â Dazai asks dryly, sighing as he rests his head against the head rest, careful to not touch either of the teens sitting next to him. God, heâs tired of being around people, he just wants to curl up in bed. Preferably with you.Â
âMhm.â He nods his head a bit too enthusiastically. âBoss told us to make sure you get to her apartment. Weâre gonna stay with you until she gets there.â
Great, Dazai thinks, a little bitter over it.
Evidently, it shows on his face because the boy cringes in on himself and says, âWeâll leave you be, Iâm sure youâve had an, uh, exhausting past two weeks. You wonât even know weâre there. Promise.â
Dazai side eyes him, noticing the way the boy stares ahead embarrassed as if contemplating all of the words he just spoke. He looks⊠normal for the most partânot like the girl sitting on Dazaiâs other side, definitely not like that emo Akutagawa that trails after you like a lost dog, and certainly not like that unhinged brat Klaus who follows you around.
âWhatâs your name?â Dazai asks for a few moments, sparing the kid from his own thoughts. The kid looks at him startled as if he didnât expect Dazai to willingly speak to him. âWell?â
âAh-â he splutters out and then smiles a bit. âIâm Nakajima Atsushi. Just Atsushi is fine though. Itâs nice to finally meet you, yâknow, without the others around.âÂ
He lets out an awkward laugh and Dazai recalls the last time he saw the boyâhe was with the other two outside of your building when Dazai first got the blackmail on you. Of the three of them, he seemed the most nervous. Heâs met both Klaus and Akutagawa since then, unfortunately, but never him.
âThatâs Kyouka-chan, by the way. Sheâs not much for conversation, but sheâs great. I wouldâve introduced myself sooner, but the first time we met wasnât exactly the best situation, and boss has me training all the time to try to learn better control over my ability, and Kyoukaâs always on missions for Kouyou-san so you probably havenât met her yet.â
Dazai nods, although heâs not fully paying attention. âWhatâs your ability?â he asks absently, wishing he was sitting at the window so he could at least distract himself with the passing buildings.Â
âI can, uh, turn into a tiger. I canât control when though,â Atsushi explains, tossing Dazai a sheepish smile. âThatâs why Iâm always training. I need to be able to control it without relying on boss or, uh, the collar.â
âYouâre the weretiger,â Dazai realizes, glancing at Atsushi and then down to the collar around his neck. He canât tell from first glance what exactly it does, but before he can figure it out, the boy is speaking again.
âSheâs mentioned me?â Atsushi leans forward, eyes wide. âWhat did she say? Did she say anything about how my training is going? Sheâs been so busy, I havenât really been able to get any feedback from her, but Iâve made some progress with controlling my transformations⊠Kind of.â
âUh,â Dazai says smartly. Weak-hearted, too soft, not fit for the Mafia. Atsushi's smile starts to drop, so Dazai quickly adds, âYeah, she has. Sheâs noticed all of the work youâve been doing. Sheâs impressed.â
Atsushi frowns and side eyes Dazai. âSheâs never impressed with anything. You donât need to lie.â
Dazai grimaces and decides not to argue. Instead, he asks, âHow did you end up with the Port Mafia?â
âOh, ah⊠itâs a long story,â Atsushi says, laughing awkwardly as he rubs the back of his neck. âI lived at an orphanage, but I got kicked out because there wasnât enough food. Or well, actually it was probably because I was attacking people when I turned into a tiger at night. But it was for the best anyway! And, well, I ended up here in Yokohama, and I guess at night when I transformed, I started attacking Port Mafia warehouses. So boss sent Klaus and Akutagawa to, uh, kill me, I guess. Or capture me, maybe, for the bounty. Iâm not sure now that I think about it; it felt like they wanted to kill me, but theyâre both also always trying to kill everything, itâs just their natural state. But I wasnât tiger-me when they got there, I was me-me, so they brought me back to her⊠um, and then I talked to her for a bit and she told me about the bounty, and then she fought the other executives to not hand me over to the Guild, and now Iâm here.â
Dazai stares at Atsushi. âWow,â he replies blandly. âQuite the story.âÂ
Atsushi flushes. âYou asked,â he accuses, scowling at Dazai and looking away.
âYes, very narrative, ten out of ten story-telling skills,â Dazai says with a simpering smile. He notices the stone-faced Kyoukaâs lips curl up as she looks out the window, as if trying to hide it, so he considers it a win, even if Atsushi gives him an outraged look. âWhat?â
âWe canât all be literature majors, some of us spent our entire lives in an orphanage only to be kidnapped by the Mafia as soon as we got out,â Atsushi hisses, face still pink as he pointedly looks away from Dazai.Â
âActually, Iâm a creative writing and classics double major if weâre being specific,â Dazai corrects with a sweet smile. â... How did you even know that?âÂ
Atsushi clicks his tongue and side-eyes Dazai. âArenât you supposed to be smart?â Dazai squints at Atsushi, a bit insulted. âWhere do you think I heard it from?â
You, Dazai realizes, lips curling up a little instinctively. He wonders how much you talk about himâAtsushi isnât the first to throw in his face that heâs supposed to be smart. Klaus did when he first met Dazai outside your building, Chuuya has too. He imagines you must brag about him, and it makes Dazaiâs chest feel warm and bubbly because heâs never had someone brag about him before. Never.
âYou make her happy, yâknow,â Atsushi says quietly. Heâs not looking at Dazai, opting to stare out the window instead. âSheâs⊠not as⊠Forget it. I donât know what Iâm saying.â
âYou canât just say that,â Dazai complains, interested in knowing what Atsushi was about to say about you, but the boy seals his lips shut and stares out the window. Dazai rolls his eyes.
âHime is not as cruel as she pretends to be,â Dazai startles at the voice of a young girl, almost forgetting that Kyouka is on his opposite side. âShe looks out for everyone, but doesnât let anyone look out for her. Acts like she doesnât care so no one cares about her, but she does. A lot. Ane-san worries about her, I can tell.â
Atsushi nods. âWhen she found out everything that⊠happened at the orphanage, she had the whole staff removed and replaced them. Made sure what happened to me didnât happen to anyone else,â he says quietly, an indecipherable look in his eyes. Dazai isnât sure what happened at the orphanage, but he doubts it was anything good.Â
âHime and Ane-san helped me figure out the truth of what happened to my parents,â Kyouka agrees softly. âAne-san couldnât have gotten the files without her help.â
âAnd sheâs done stuff for Klaus and Akutagawa too,â Atsushi adds, âbut she wonât let anyone else help her with anything. Not me, not Klaus or Akutagawa. Hardly even Executive Nakahara. She relies on you though, I think a lot more than she realizes⊠sheâs not been good the past few weeks.â
Dazaiâs expression drops, lashes lowering as he looks down at the floor of the car. Heâs wondered while heâs been captured how you might be doing. When he got really in his head, he imagined that you were doing perfectly fine without him, didnât even care that he was gone. He thinks maybe he wouldâve preferred that than to know that you havenât been doing well, he doesnât like that. Doesnât like that you were hurting because of him and his stupid decisions.
Heâll just have to make it up to you, he decides. Heâll make it up to you once everything has calmed down. But how? He canât buy you nice things like you do for him because heâs broke. If he tries to take you out somewhere to eat (not that he can even afford it), you wouldnât let him pay the bill. Maybe⊠maybe he could show you what heâs been working on for his poetry workshop.
His face flames up at the thought, pushing it away immediately.
No, heâll think of something else.
âWhy is your face all red?â Kyouka suddenly asks, eyes sharp as she stares at him. âAre you ill? Did they poison you before releasing you? Look at me, I can call Doc-â
âIâm fine,â Dazai bristles, flustered. âIâm fine, Iâm not sick.â
Kyouka looks unconvinced, reaching forward to try to press her hand to Dazaiâs forehead. Dazai leans back, almost into Atsushi, who yelps and worms away from him.
âStop that,â he hisses, grateful when the car rolls to a stop in front of the familiar sight of your building. Dazai is climbing over a protesting Atsushi and pushing open the door before the car has even fully stopped. âThank god.â
He almost trips and falls, foot catching on Atsushiâs leg as he stumbles out of the car. He ignores Atsushi and Kyouka rushing to scramble after him as he rushes into the building. Heâs too eager to be back in your apartment, he has every intention of getting up there and locking himself in your bedroom until you get back.Â
Heâs home free now, nothing else matters.
Heâs home.
Home.
Itâs almost too surreal for him to believe. Heâd just about come to terms with the fact that he was never going to see you again, that his fate was in that cold and ugly room the Guild had him trapped in, but now heâs moments away from being back in the familiarity of your apartment.Â
Moments away from being home.Â
In a few hours, when youâre back, heâll be able to curl up in your arm, heâll be able to hear your voice, heâll be able to be with you. He just wants to be with you. And he will be. Soon, he-
Dazai freezes when he takes a few steps into the lobby of your building and feels the muzzle of a gun press to his lower back. His eyes widen and he hears Atsushi and Kyouka skid to a stop a few steps behind him. He swallows thickly, realizing while heâd been lost in thought, heâd also lost track of his surroundings.Â
Thereâs a group of unfamiliar people in the lobby of your building, all armed and all wearing strange collars around their necks. Not like the one Atsushi wears, these ones are large metal ones with a gem implanted in the middle. Your doorman, an older man named Hinata who Dazai has become acquainted with over the past two months, lays dead on top of his desk, hand still reaching out for his phone.Â
âWho-â
âShhh,â an equally unfamiliar voice says dismissively. Itâs nasally and grating to the ears, Dazai already knows this man is going to be a piece of work. âDonât speak, I want to get this done and over with.â
âAce,â Atsushi shouts angrily. âWhat the hell are you doing? Get away from him.â
âNo can do, weretiger,â the same man, Ace, drawls. âOn orders from the Boss. I suggest you step out of the way, I was told he needed to be alive⊠but anyone that tried⊠well, you see what happened to old man Hinata over here. Never liked him, thought because he answered directly to our precious hime that he was something special. He wasnât. Neither are the two of you, so get out of the way so I can complete my mission, yeah? Yeah. Good.â
Atsushi and Kyouka donât verbally respond, but they donât need to. Kyouka seemingly responds well enough from the sound of her katana being drawn, Dazai wants to turn around to look, but the gun against his lower back stops him. Heâs so frustrated that he almost wants to cry, of course things couldnât be this easy. He shouldâve known better.
Ace clicks his tongue and Dazai still canât see him, but he can tell just from the mocking tone he uses that the man must have a really punchable face. âCareful, Kyouka-chan, you wonât be the only one getting in trouble for going against the bossâs direct orders. Little hime and Kouyou-san will face the consequences for your disobedience too. You donât want that, do you?âÂ
âKyouka-chan, itâs okay,â Dazai says, voice deceptively even. âItâs okay.â
Itâs definitely not okay, but if theyâre not going to kill Dazai on the spot, then he can safely assume that they want something from him. That means heâll have time to stall. Enough time for you to finish up the negotiations and get here.Â
âBut-â
âYou heard it from the man himself,â Ace sings, forcing Dazai to turn around to walk right back the way he came. âSwords down and claws away, kids, and step over to the side so my men can make sure you donât go and let our shining star know whatâs happening too early, alright? Letâs give her time to handle things with the Guild so we donât have to worry about those irritating Americans anymore.â
Dazai was right. Aceâs face is extremely punchable, and his hands twitch at his side when the man has the nerve to give Dazai a very smug smirk.Â
âIâve been waiting for someone to knock that girl off her high horse for a long time. Longer than you can imagine,â he says wistfully. âIâm so glad I get to be the one to do it. Get moving.â
âSheâs gonna kill you,â Dazai says quietly.
âAnd disobey a direct order from the Boss?â Ace mocks. âYou must not know her as well as you thought you did. Sheâs like a loyal hound to that man. A real bitch if I do say so myself.â
Dazaiâs body moves before he actually processes the words, arm shooting out and fist cracking against the manâs jaw hard. Dazai is almost proud of himself as he watches Ace crumple to the ground, groaning, realizing that even after all of this time, he can at least somewhat remember the self-defense lessons that Odasaku forced Dazai to take part in. Though he doesnât have much time to bask in his pride, because for the second time in less than a month, his head is bashed in by a baton and he crumples to the ground hard.
Shit, he thinks, pain coursing through him as his vision starts to go black. This is bad. This is-
â
âIs it done?â
âDonât talk to me,â Repin says, holding up his hand as he swiftly walks past you. âI have paintings to create. Too many memories are flooding my head right now, if I have to see that moron you call a boyfriend for longer than I have to, I will gouge my eyes out.â
You roll your eyes. âIâll take that as a yes then.â
âDonât forget our deal,â Repin shouts as he leaves the room. âIâll be cashing in on it. Those additions you asked for were not easy work.â
âYeah, yeah,â you say dismissively. âGo do what you need to do.â
Chuuya looks concerned. âDeal?â he demands. âWhat deal?â
âDonât worry about it,â you sigh, shaking your head and turning your gaze back to the one-way glass showing the room that Twain and Fitzgerald are sitting in.
The two are chatting with one another, oblivious to what just happened to them. Repin told you to give it a few minutes before going in, let their brain adjust to the new memories he implanted, but youâre impatient. You want to finish things up here so you can get to Dazai. You miss him desperately alreadyâthe few seconds you were able to hold him in your arms were simply not enough. Each passing minute without him now is agonizing.
Before you can spiral deeper into your thoughts, the doors to the room behind you open. Akutagawa and Klaus step into the roomâan impassive look on the formerâs face, as if his coat isnât dripping blood onto the ground beneath him, and the latter has a wild smile on his face and an even wilder look in his eyes. Akutagawa evidently allowed the other boy to partake in the bloodshed considering Klausâs face is smeared with an equally disturbing amount of blood.
âIt has been done,â Akutagawa announces, raising his chin. âHenry James was killed.â
âReally fucking brutally too,â Klaus interjects with a laugh that almost disconcerts you. âWanna come see?â
âNo,â you say flatly. âCall the clean up crews.â
Klaus visibly pouts at your words, but Akutagawa nods and pulls out his phone, taking a step away. You turn your attention back to the room, lips pressed together. Itâs⊠odd almostâFitzgerald and Twain talk casually, not knowing that the negotiation that took place between the two of you even happened, not knowing thatÂ
Not oddâscary.Â
Youâve encountered all types of abilities before. Chuuya and Akutagawa have two of the most lethal abilities youâve ever come across. Klausâs ability has always disconcerted you with the way it takes and takes and takes from the boy, knowing that someday it would consume him entirely. There was a child you once met with an ability kind of like yoursâa type of mental manipulation triggered by physical harm to the user that ravaged the human psyche with hallucinations; they couldnât control their ability, couldnât even stop it at their own will, so you had to have them killed. Ayatsuji Yukito, the notorious Homicide Detective that the Special Division has recently leashed, concerns you because the man could kill just about everyone you care about with minimal effort if heâs ever brought into Yokohama to investigate the Port Mafia.
But this is different. Repinâs ability alters the mind so fundamentally that you donât even know your mind has been altered. That scares you. It scares you almost as much as the prospect of that reality altering book Fitzgerald mentioned. The idea that one person could completely manufacture your perceived reality and youâd have no ideaâŠ
It scares you.
âWhatâs wrong?â Chuuya asks quietly as Akutagawa and Klaus leave the room to direct the cleaning crew to wherever they butchered Henry James. âHey, you okay?â
âIâm fine,â you say, shaking your head. âJust want to be back at my apartment.â
âSoon,â Chuuya tells you, nudging your shoulder. âYou wanna go in and talk to them now?â
âYou think itâs been long enough?â
âYeah,â Chuuya says. âGo for it. Iâm gonna head up to the conference room. Mori wants to see us after youâre done here.â
You roll your eyes. âIâm going to see Osamu first,â you mutter. âI need to make sure heâs okay beforeâŠâ
Before getting back into all of this bullshit. You just need to spend ten minutes with him before doing anything else. Ten minutes. Even though heâs back, and you know heâs safe, you watched him get into the car with Kyouka and Atsushi⊠youâre still on edge. You donât know why, but youâre still on edge.
Chuuya nods. âIâll cover for you,â he promises. âNow go finish things here.â
You donât say anything else, sighing as you make your way over to the door. You wrap your fingers around the door handle, pausing for a second to collect your thoughts. You already know what youâre going to sayâyouâve scripted it out, rehearsed it a hundred times. Youâve gone over information with Repin dozens of times to make sure everything is ironed out.Â
You know what youâre going to say, you just have to say it, and then you can go see Dazai.
With that thought in mind, you push open the door to the room where the two Guild members are waiting for, making sure the smile on your face is warm and inviting while amping up your ability just enough for it to have a physical effect on them. The tenseness in their shoulders eases, and Fitzgerald rises to his feet with a small smile.Â
âAh, Miss Mori-â God, being called that makes your skin crawl. You canât remember the last time someone actually referred to you that wayâyou even prefer hime to it. You have to make an effort to not let the irritation show on your face as Fitzgerald continues speaking, âItâs a pleasure to finally meet you. Iâve heard a lot about you.â
âFitzgerald-san,â you greet lightly, holding your hand out to him. He shakes it firmly and you add, âI wish it didnât have to be under the circumstances.â
Fitzgerald grimaces as he nods and takes a step back. âYes,â he agrees, voice low. âMy wife. You have her?âÂ
âI do,â you tell him, taking a seat next to him. âSheâs⊠not doing well.âÂ
This is a more casual setting, a sitting room in one of the central buildingâs higher levelsâa few couches set up in the center of the room around a coffee table, a window overlooking the city and a bar on the opposite side of the room. Twain lounges back in one of the armchairs in the corner of the room by the window while Fitzgerald sits closer to you. You chose this setting on purpose: itâs more intimate, less official than a negotiation room.Â
More like a meeting between friends than enemies, which is exactly what this has become with Repinâs meddling.Â
Fitzgerald sighs and looks away, lashes fluttering. âI feared that would be the case,â he murmurs. âHow bad is it?â
You give him a small, sympathetic smile as an answer and Fitzgerald inhales sharply, rubbing his hand across his lower face, forehead creased in worry.Â
âI shouldâve known better than to deal with Dostoevsky,â he sighs, despondence lacing his tone. âI was warned, butâŠâ
âMany have made the mistake of falling for his charms,â you say quietly. âYou canât blame yourself.â
Good, you start to become a bit more comfortable. Repin pulled through. If all went according to plan, Fitzgerald should believe that Dostoevsky was the one to have Zelda kidnapped, and the Port Mafia was able to intercept. Youâve spent the past few hours tying up all the loose endsâTolstoy handled the security cameras in New York, you the ones here in Yokohama, thereâs no physical evidence left of Tolstoyâs involvement in Zeldaâs kidnapping and youâve ensured rumors have already started spreading about Fitzgerald reneging on his alliance with Dostoevsky and Christie by withholding information. You donât need to whisper anything else, the entire world knows that Fyodor Dostoevsky does not take treachery lightly, the assumptions will be made on their own.Â
âI can when my wife is on the line because of it,â Fitzgerald snaps, and then lets out another heavy breath. âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to snap at you. Iâm just frustrated with myself.â
âItâs okay,â you tell him easily. âI understand.â
âCan I see her?â Fitzgerald finally asks hesitantly. âOr is sheâŠâ
You make sure the expression on your face is contemplative, a bit concerned and then say, âYou can, but I donât know if it will go well⊠Dostoevsky⊠he did a lot of damage to her psyche with the stories he was telling her. Iâve hardly been able to make any progress with her, Iâve only been able to convince her that Iâm a friend.â
Fitzgerald grimaces and looks away. While he decides what to say, you contemplate your next move. You have Lippmann ready to bring Zelda into the room; you know that she wonât take the sight of Francis kindly, youâve ensured that much. Zelda Fitzgeraldâs mind has been all but shattered even without the use of your ability. But if Fitzgerald insists on taking her with him, which thereâs a good chance he will, youâll lose some very critical leverage over the Guild. If Fitzgerald ever manages to unravel the memories Repin has woven into his mind, itâll leave the Port Mafia vulnerable to a full blown war with the Guild without a hostage in hand.Â
You really donât want to lose Zelda.
But⊠maybe you can still make this work.Â
âI want to see her,â Fitzgerald says after a few moments. âPlease.â
You nod and glance down at your phone to shoot a text to Lippmann. Youâll only have a few seconds before he walks through the door with Zelda, but youâll have to figure out your exact approach once you see how visceral her reaction is to Fitzgerald. Though you know it'll be bad, if itâs not bad enough, you wonât be able to convince Fitzgerald that she needs your help.Â
The door to the room cracks open and Fitzgerald is on his feet in a second, holding his breath as Lippmann steps in, holding the door open for the fragile woman. His blue eyes are glittering with amusement as he catches your gaze, and you find yourself relaxing, realizing he mustâve been able to get her worked up before leading her in here.
You lean back in your seat, folding your hands in your lap, settling in to watch the show about to unfold.Â
It doesnât take more than a few seconds for it to begin.
Zelda freezes in the door frame as soon as her eyes fall on Fitzgerald. You watch the way her breath catches, the way her eyes widen and the way her pupils dilate. She mouths the word ânoâ before speaking it, shaking her head slowly.
âHoney,â Fitzgerald whispers, taking a step forward, but Zelda takes a step back as soon as he does. âHoney.â
âStay away from me.â Zeldaâs voice breaks over the words, lips visibly trembling as she presses her back against the door frame. She looks like sheâs on the verge of fleeing, but Albatrossâs sudden presence in the door stops her. âStay away. You lied to me. You lied. Frances⊠our daughter, my daughter, youâŠâ
âWhat?â Fitzgerald breathes out, brows furrowing in confusion. âZelda, honey, what are you talking about? I donât-â
âYou lied,â Zelda cries, voice rising. âYou lied to me. You took my daughter from me, get him away from me, get him away! I donât want to see him, I donât-â
Zelda is hyperventilating, hardly breathing properly, eyes wide, wet and watery. You nod at Lippmann, and the man leads her out of the room. Itâs quiet once sheâs goneâyour gaze sweeps across the room, Twain looks sick from where heâs sitting stiffly in the chair heâd been lounging in and Fitzgerald, the powerful leader of the Guild, looks crushed, ashen as he takes a shaky step backward to sit back down.
To his credit, he still tries to keep himself put together. You can tell from the way his breaths are robotically even and his fingers are trembling in his lap. You watch him for a few seconds before reaching out to place your hand on his shoulder.
âIâve been trying to help her,â you say, carefully choosing your words. âIâve been told you know what my ability is, is that true?â
You know that it is, you were careful to make sure that Repin didnât disturb any of those memories. You figured it could help you in convincing him to let you keep Zelda if he thought you could undo the damage âDostoevskyâ had done.Â
âI donât want you messing with my wifeâs head,â Fitzgerald spits out. âThat Russian bastard has done enough damage.â
âOf course not,â you agree amiably. âThatâs not what I mean. I can use my ability to keep people at ease. Every other hour sheâs going into violent fits of hysteria⊠tries hurting herself, I-â
Fitzgerald lets out a sharp breath, looking away. âWhat did he tell her?â he asks, voice wavering. âShe mentioned Frances. I-â
âFrom what I was able to gather, she seems to think your daughter is alive and you helped her⊠escape to a foreign country to live out her life away from Zelda,â you say, watching Fitzgeraldâs face twist in distress and frustration as he buries his face in his hands. âI can release her to you, if thatâs what you want, but-â
âYou can help her?â Fitzgerald demands, looking at you. His eyes are red and glassy but his face is tight. He seems to be doing his best to not fall apart until youâre gone, but his self control is wavering the more he hears about Zelda.Â
â... I can.â
âHow?â he asks. âHow will you do it?â
Hereâs your chance. You canât mess it up.
âWhen Zelda is having those⊠hysterical fits, sheâs impossible to reason with and canât settle down on her own. Iâve only been using my ability to calm her down so I can speak with her. Itâs taking a lot of time, but since Iâve managed to convince her that Iâm a friend, I think Iâll be able to make progress in convincing her that Dostoevsky's lies were just thatâlies. Itâll be⊠tenuous, definitely wonât be a smooth path, but I think, with time, Iâll be able to do it.â
âWill there be any side effects to you using your ability to calm her down?â he questions, watching you carefully.
âNothing major,â you say honestly. âIn the future, sheâll probably feel instinctually more relaxed around meâher brain will just associate me with being at ease, so even if Iâm not actively using my ability, itâll still reflect that way, but no lasting effects.â
After an agonizing few seconds, Fitzgerald nods.Â
âHelp her. Please,â he says, voice raspy. âWhen Dostoevsky comes to Yokohama, youâll have the Guildâs support in dealing with him. I swear it. Just help my wife.â
Wow, you think, almost unnerved by how well this worked out. You have Dazai back, you managed to keep Zelda, and you turned the Guild against Dostoevsky. You canât help but feel like thereâs going to be some sort of catch, or that itâs going to backfire. It would track considering how poor your luck has recently been. But for now, you roll with it and hope for the best. You'll start preparing for the worst after youâve been able to spend a few days with Dazai.Â
âIâll do everything I can for her,â you say, rising to your feet and giving Fitzgerald a small smile. âYou can stay here for as long as you need. Iâll have one of my men wait outside to escort you back to the lobby when youâre ready.â
Fitzgerald thanks you, and you finally turn to leave, ready to see Dazai. You just need fifteen minutes with him before you go off to your meeting with the other executives. You need to see him, hold him, talk to him. Need to make sure this isnât all some cruel, elaborate trick your mind has played on you before heading into another exhausting meeting.Â
Klaus, Akutagawa and Albatross are waiting outside for you. Albatross parts his lips to speak but you shake your head, not wanting to risk saying anything until youâre well out of ear shot of this room, just in case. They follow you to the elevator, and itâs only once the doors close that Albatross bursts into laughter.
âYouâre one evil bitch,â Albatross snickers. âFucking that womanâs head up just to play the hero? Thatâs messed up even for you, doll. I donât know how you sleep at night.â
Your lips curl up into a smile as you toss a wink at Albatross. âIâll sleep just fine tonight with Dazai in my bed.â
âGross,â Albatross complains, rolling his eyes. âNo, but really. This was one big playâless than two hours and weâve managed to totally turn the tables. Crazy. What exactly did you have Repin do besides remove their memories of your boy?âÂ
âBefore Dazai went back to my apartment, he told me that the Guild was working with Dostoevsky,â you explain as the elevator gets to the lobby. Albatross walks at your side, Klaus and Akutagawa trailing behind the two of you as you make your way out of the building to walk across the property to your building. âI already intended on using Dostoevsky and Nabokov as scapegoats, but this made it a lot easier. Fitzgerald was withholding information from him-â
âEveryone knows that bastard doesnât let disloyalty slide,â Albatross grins sharply. âOf course heâd retaliate.â
âExactly,â you agree. âI had Repin twist the situation. Made them believe that Dostoevsky was the one that had Zelda kidnapped, but we were able to intercept. Only Tolstoyâs executives, our executives, and my direct subordinates know the truth. Tolstoy handled CCTV in the States, we handled the ones here. If Dostoevsky tries to convince Fitzgerald that itâs not true, thereâs no proofâonly he said, she saidâand even if he doesâŠâ
âWe still have Zelda,â Albatross finishes with a sharp grin. âEvil. I canât believe we managed to come out of that with your boy back, the Guild on our side, and the hostage still in our custody. God, I love you. You can be fucking terrifying sometimes, yâknow that?âÂ
Your lips part to make a quip back at him as you push open the doors to your building, but the words die on your tongue as your gaze lands on whatâs awaiting for you in the lobby. The first thing you see is your doorman slumped over the desk, blood dripping over the side and pooling on the ground in front of it. The next thing you see is Kyouka and Atsushi, both unconscious, needles discarded carelessly on the ground next to them.
You donât see Dazai.
âWhat the fuck,â Albatross breathes out, pulling out his gun and shifting to stand in front of you. âKlaus, go check on Atsushi and Kyouka.â
Klaus and Akutagawa rush from behind youâKlaus to Kyouka and Atsushi, trying to wake the two of them up, and Akutagawa in front of you and Albatross, Rashumon at the ready. You can feel Albatrossâs hand tight around your forearm, you can hear him talking but you canât make out any word that heâs saying.
âThis isnât real,â you say flatly as you stare ahead. âThis cannot be real.â
Something bubbles in your chestâyou donât know if itâs rage, distress or sheer hysteria, you think a combination of all three because although your blood is simmering, you feel your eyes misting over and a laugh about to burst from your lips because what the fuck?Â
You press your hand to your mouth, hardly even registering whatâs going on around you. Klaus is trying to shake Atsushi and Kyouka awake, Akutagawa is scouting out the rest of the lobby to make sure no assailants are still lingering, and Albatross is trying to get your attention but you donât take notice of him, shaking your head, and trying to hide the way your lips are curling up into a disbelieving smile.
What a joke, you think, breath catching as you pace over to Klaus, Atsushi and Kyouka. Shit.
As soon as Atsushiâs eyes flutter open, youâre grabbing his chin and craning his neck to force him to look you in the eye. âWhere is he?â you ask, voice surprisingly steady. âWhere is he? What happened? Answer me, Atsushi.â
Albatross says your name and grabs your wrist to try to get you to back off, but you toss his hand right off of you. Atsushi is still out of it, not understanding what youâre asking him, but before your frustration can bubble over, you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket.Â
Your hand drops from Atsushiâs face to reach into your pocket. Your fingers are stiff and clunky as you pull your phone out, and as soon as you see the name on your screen, you know.Â
You donât say anything as you answer the call and lift the phone to your ear, waiting for the person on the other line to speak first.Â
âHello, little hime,â Mori says, you can hear the smile on his lips. âHave you finished with the Guild?â
âWhere is he?â you ask in response. âWhere is he?â
âSafe for now,â Mori hums, sounding entirely too amused. âIâve had quite an interesting conversation with him. I can see why you like him as much as you do.â
âEverything I do for you,â you hiss, the nails of your free hand digging into your palm. âEverything I do, and this is how you repay me. Iâve spent my whole life doing everything you want, and you canât even spare me a shred of fucking loyalty. You-â
âOh, donât be so dramatic, dear,â Mori sighs and your blood pressure skyrockets. âIâm doing this to protect you, as has everything Iâve ever done. You truly have no faith in me.â
âTo protect me?â you shout, your throat burns and itâs a struggle to force yourself to breathe properly. You feel dizzy, a panic attack coming on, but now is not the time, you need to calm down. âYou did this to protect me?â
âI did,â Mori agrees. âThis boy had been lying to you for months. I had a feeling, but I wanted to confirm it before bringing anything up to you. I know you care for him. I didnât want to unnecessarily break your heart.â
âWhat are you talking about? Youâre not making any sense, I donât believe you.â
âIâve never lied to you, little hime. I have to many people, but never you. Heâs been lying to you about who he is⊠I suggest you get up here quickly.â
âWhat do you mean?â you ask. Your voice wavers this time, you canât stop it. You can feel several sets of concerned eyes on you, but you canât bring yourself to meet any of them. âStop being cryptic, just spit it out.â
âThe boyâs name is not Dazai Osamu, dear. Itâs Tsushima Shuji.â
Your ears ring as his words slowly process through your head. Your silence is enough of an answer for Mori.
âIâll be waiting in the conference room for you. Do get here soon.â
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu x you#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x you
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From a Previous Life
Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Fem!Reader
Summary: Bound and fearful, you seek answers from a mysterious stranger about the fate of those you love.
Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of death, pregnancy, non-detailed talk about experimentations, angst, grief, swearing, judgement, flirting (if you squint)
Word Count: 2.9K
A/N: My first Cooper fic! I've had this idea going around my head for a hot while and I really could go on, and on with more (yearning, smut, etc) but I just wanted to get out an initial one-shot that could potentially turn into more if any one likes it (or I end up adding to it anyway!) I'd love to hear your thoughts đ
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Silently, you moved through the desolate wastelands, each step stirring clouds of dust and veiling the once lively towns now reduced to rubble. Somewhere in California, though the exact whereabouts blurred, you were leagues away from the sanctuary you once called home, apparently almost two centuries ago. Time, to you, was an elusive concept, for the stiffness in your joints and the lingering ache betrayed the recent thaw from cryo-sleep. Your mind remained ensnared by fog, a residue of the drugs coursing through your veins during preservation.
Yet, your senses, dulled by centuries of slumber, detected his presence long before he materialized. Heavy footfalls pierced the barren silence, prompting a cautious glance over your shoulder. There he stood, solitary amidst the wasteland, a gun slung lazily across his back and a weathered ten-gallon hat shadowing his features. Perhaps he had spotted you, perhaps not; regardless, neither of you quickened your pace, silently agreeing to maintain a wary distance.
Ever cautious, you abruptly veered into the next structurally sound building, bracing for a potential standoff. Praying it wouldn't come to that, for the meagre supply of bullets salvaged from a fallen vault security guard, coupled with his erratic pistol, offered scant reassurance. The art of marksmanship was foreign to you, a skill unbefitting a woman of virtue in the world before its descent into chaos. Your pride lay in nurturing the home, not in extinguishing life.
"What would your husband make of this sight?" you thought. Clad in the worn remnants of the blue and yellow jumpsuit issued upon vault entry, now stained with blood and grime from your desperate flight. Would he mock your dishevelled appearance, your unadorned face and frayed nerves? Would he marvel at the pistol clenched tightly in your grasp, its weight unfamiliar and your trembling fingers poised on the trigger? Could he shoulder this burden, like you wish he was here to do so? Such musings left you unsettled, your husband's whereabouts a lingering question mark, conspicuously absent from your side.
Peering cautiously from beneath the window sill, your gaze swept the scorched landscape beyond. The lone figure should have drawn near by now, should have approached the building where you lay in wait, yet his silhouette remained absent from the horizon. Instead, the frigid touch of a gun barrel against the back of your skull sent a shiver down your spine, your body tensing instinctively under the ominous threat. You suppressed the cry that clawed at your parched throat, swallowing hard as you slowly lowered your pistol to the ground beside you.
"That's it, nice and slow," he instructed, his voice gruff with a hint of amusement. "You might be my easiest catch yet."
Realization dawned upon youâhe had been tracking you. You inwardly chided yourself for your naivety before complying, raising your arms slowly with palms outstretched. Encountering no one in these barren lands, you were uncertain of the customs among people so removed from your time. You were one of them now, but survival demanded adaptation.
"Please, I don't have any money," you offered, hearing his scoff. "I mean it. Take my gun, you can have it."
His movement rustled the air, his presence brushing against you as he leaned to retrieve your pistol. A low hum of amusement escaped him, and you felt the cold barrel of his gun pressing against your skull before it vanished altogether.
"I don't want your hunk of junk, sweetheart," he drawled, tossing it back to the ground beside you. "Doubt it can punch through a tin can. No, what I seek is your cooperation."
"O-okay, yes," you agreed, the words tumbling from your lips almost too hastily, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.
A nudge at the side of your heel prompted you to turn and face him. You complied, shifting on your knees, arms growing weary as they remained raised above your head while you awkwardly pivoted to meet his gaze.
The scream tore from your throat as you beheld him, sending shivers down your spine. He loomed above you, his visage warped by decomposing, discoloured flesh that swathes his form. Cracked lips parted to reveal yellowed teeth in a perpetual grimace, his once vibrant eyes now a haunting shade of blue-green, still clinging to a trace of humanity amidst the decay. You recoiled at the absence of his nose, now a dark cavity amidst cartilage and bone.
"That's not polite," he admonished, his narrowed eyes betraying annoyance. Trembling under his scrutinizing gaze, you stammered out an apology, extending a trembling hand to ward him off as he took a step forward.
"Please, leave me alone. I-I don't have anything," you pleaded, but he showed no sign of relenting. Your fingers curled around the pistol on the ground, raising it shakily in his direction.
"Well now, what are you going to do with that?" His smirk deepened as you aimed the weapon at him.
His amusement infuriated and terrified you in equal measure. You were aware of your body shaking, aware that he saw it too. You hadn't formulated a plan, hadn't considered the consequences. But you'd never faced a situation like this, especially not with someone so grotesque yet strangely human. He spoke like a man but resembled a monster, reminiscent of the creatures from the old sci-fi holo tapes your husband used to rent on Friday nights, leaving you cowering behind embroidered cushions until the credits rolled. You weren't built for this, but just like only hours before, you must fight.
With a tight grip and clenched eyes, you pulled the trigger. The recoil sent you crashing against the wall, the impact jarring your head as the bullet ricocheted through the room, narrowly missing the man and striking a nearby doorway with a sharp ping.
"Well, that was disappointing," he remarked, his head cocked and lips drawn into a condescending smirk. "You finished, sweetheart?"
With a mixture of annoyance at your failure and frustration at his dismissive demeanour, you tossed the pistol at his feet. Your head throbbed, and as you tentatively touched the back of your skull with trembling fingers, you were unsurprised to find them stained with blood.
"Are you going to kill me?" you panted, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.
He shook his head, kicking at the dirt with his pointed boot before crouching in front of you. "Not much use to me dead, not much use to me at all if you don't cooperate," he emphasized, his tone dripping with implication.
"Fine," you huffed. "What do you want?"
A triumphant hum escaped him as he straightened up, retrieving a long rope from his hip and tossing it into your lap. "Tie your hands together," he commanded.
You hesitated, eyeing the rope and then him with uncertainty. His tone shifted, imbued with a hint of authority as he spoke again. "The rope goes around your wrists or around your neck. Either way, you don't want me to be the one to do it."
With deft fingers, you hastily wound the rope around your wrists, striving to fashion a knot that would hold without chafing your skin too severely. He bent down, giving the tether a firm tug to test its security before nodding in approval. Seizing the other end lying in the dirt, he yanked it harshly, nearly causing you to stumble forward onto the unforgiving ground.
"Get up," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
You complied, awkwardly pushing yourself to your feet without the use of your bound hands. There was a pregnant pause as you gazed at him expectantly, awaiting further instruction. However, he simply tugged on the rope, turning to lead you out of the dilapidated building and back into the sprawling wasteland.
You followed him into the desert expanse, both of you shrouded in silence save for your intermittent attempts to coax answers from him. Questions about where he was taking you, what he planned to do with you, hung in the air, but he offered no response. Instead, he whistled a tune, leaving your inquiries to dissipate into the wind.
As frustration reached its boiling point, you dug your heels into the sand, exerting force against your restraints as the rope cut into your skin. A hidden thrill coursed through you as you witnessed his hulking frame falter against the resistance, a fleeting moment of satisfaction before he regained his footing. His narrowed gaze met yours from beneath the shadow of his hat.
"I'm cooperating," you asserted, your voice strained. "You canâshould at least tell me where we are going. Why you're doing this to me."
A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he gazed skyward before meeting your eyes once more. "You're sure dumb for a pretty thing," he muttered, retrieving a flask from the recesses of his torn duster and taking a long swig. "I guess that's how they like to keep you down there."
As he turned to face you fully, his eyes rolled at your bewilderment before he elaborated. "Not much up here untouched nowadays, so when you see a little rabbit wandering the lands fresh from her cage, a smart man doesn't think twice before he acts."
Anger surged through you at his mocking words. Barely escaping your 'cage' with your life, barely comprehending the aftermath of the bombs, and now captive againâthis time by a man, no, a monster, likely more sinister than those who had ensnared you initially.
"You already said you're not going to kill me, so you're going to fuck me or sell me," you asserted, mustering more confidence than you truly felt, chin lifted defiantly as he scrutinized you, tucking his flask away.
"Now you're catching on," he replied cryptically, offering no further explanation as he tugged at the rope and resumed walking. Your mind whirled with apprehension at his ominous response. Which fate awaited you? Both? The thought churned your stomach, imagining the touch of his weathered, calloused hands, pondering the atrocities he may have committed before and the ones he might be willing to commit now. You resolved not to make it easy for him, determined to fight tooth and nail if necessary.
"I can hear you thinking from over here, vaultie," he called back. "I ain't gonna fuck you," he added with a smirk, glancing briefly over his shoulder at you before continuing. "Ain't my type."
You scoffed, your brows furrowed in disbelief at his audacity. Doubt crept in, questioning if someone like him truly had preferences, more inclined to prey on anything within reach rather than adhere to any type. He resembled a monster more than a man, and you suspected his instincts remained consistent regardless of his words. Out here, where the population had dwindled to ashen, skeletal remnants of unfortunate souls caught in the blast, it seemed unlikely anyone could afford to be picky.
"What happened to you?" you demanded, your voice tinged with genuine curiosity.
He visibly stiffened at your question, briefly halting his movements before resuming with a dismissive gesture. He heard you, yet chose not to respond.
"I said, what happened toâ"
"I heard you," he snapped, cutting you off. "Doesn't mean I owe you an answer."
You huffed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm just trying to understand what's going on! Yesterday, I was in my kitchen baking a key lime pie and dancing to the radio, and thenâ"
"Miss your cage, vaultie?" he interjected, a cruel chuckle escaping his lips. "If you miss it so much, why are you out here?"
Straining against your restraints, you heard him sigh in annoyance as he came to a halt. Turning to face you, irritation etched on his ghoulish features, he regarded you with a jutted hip and clenched gloved fingers tightening around the rope. "I'm not talking about the vault," you said earnestly. "I was in my home yesterday, just a normal day. Then the sirens blared, so loud I couldn't think. My neighbour, she came to my door, told me we had to leave, find safety. I didn't want to go without Glenn, but everyone was running, scared. I was too."
"When we reached the vault, it was chaos," you continued, his attention now fully captured, eyes glazed. "So many people, struggling to get in. But we made it, and... my neighbour, Pattiâshe's my friend. She had just given birth to her first child, a beautiful baby boy." You swallowed hard, suppressing the bile that threatened to rise in your throat. "They were supposed to let us in, we were pre-selected. But when we arrived, they turned Patti away. Shot her husband when he fought back," you recounted, the horror of the memory still fresh. "Then chaos erupted. The first nuke fell, and I was pushed through to the vault door. I lost Patti."
He regarded you with a sombre understanding, silently urging you to continue.
"When I entered, it wasn't like the commercials," you spat bitterly, recalling the false promises of safety. He cleared his throat. "That actor, going on about how great the vaults wereâ'a vast and wonderful place,'" you mocked with disdain. "Mine wasn't like that. It was... They did unspeakable things to us, to unborn children, and there was no recourse. It wasn't right. I knew what they wanted, deep down, but my head told me not to be so naĂŻve. Vault-Tec was supposed to be saving us."
Tears welled in your eyes as the memories flooded back, as vivid as if they had happened yesterday, because to you they did. "They threw us into pods, froze us until they needed us. Took us out for testing and... I was the last one. Everyone else had... died, from the testing," you choked out, the pain of loss still raw. "I fought to survive, because I couldn't let what happened to those women and their babies happen to me or mine."
He listened intently, his eyes widening as he took in your story. His gaze flicked to the small swell of your stomach below your tied wrists, realization dawning.
"So I need to know," you implored, your voice trembling with fear. "Is what happened to you also what happened to Patti and her baby? Will it happen to mine?"
He studied you, and you felt yourself shrink under his penetrating gaze. You hadn't intended to divulge so much, to reveal your condition that you had desperately tried to conceal until it could no longer be hidden, to relive the trauma that still haunted you, though in reality centuries had passed since its occurrence. Yet, you needed answers. You needed to know what lay ahead in this desolate wasteland, and if you possessed the strength to face it.
"Yes," he answered quietly, his voice laden with a heavy solemnity. "It will, in time."
Fresh tears traced their path down your cheeks, and you nodded in understanding, raising your bound hands to wipe at your wet nose. "Okay," you whispered, then smiled sadly in resignation as you rubbed your wrists gently over your stomach. "At least up here, we had a little freedom for a time."
You felt the rope that he had been keeping such a tight hold on slacken before being dropped to the ground. Stepping towards you, he gingerly took your wrists and began working on the knot, untying it with ease before meeting your gaze from beneath his lashes. "You just gained a little more."
"You're letting me go?" you asked, doubtful.
"I'm letting you choose," he corrected, his voice carrying a peculiar weight as he rubbed the tender, burned skin of your wrist where the rope had left its mark. His thick thumb felt rough against your flesh as it traced over you in a gentle, swiping motion. "There are things worse than me out here, sweetheart. Are you going to take your chances?"
His words hung heavy in the air, and you met his gaze defiantly. "I don't need your pity."
"Good, because I ain't giving you none," he replied, his tone firm.
You held his gaze, neither of you willing to be the first to look away. Moments ago, he had been intent on taking you to an undisclosed location to sell you for whatever passed as currency in this wasteland, but now he presented you with a choiceâa grim ultimatum. Stay with him or fend for yourself in the harsh wastelands. Neither option was ideal, but you hadn't lasted a single day on your own before being apprehended by him. Perhaps it was better to stick with the devil you knew, especially if there truly were worse threats out there as he claimed.
"I'm going to get bigger, you know. I'll slow you down," you warned him. "And I can't fight."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he gathered the discarded rope and secured it at his hip. "I've seen you shoot, but I've yet to see you fight. I think a few vault security guards could probably vouch for you, though," he teased, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You can't stay with me forever, nor would you want to. I'll take you to a safe haven for women in your condition. It's a few months' journey north from here. Until then, try to keep up."
You pondered his words, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of a safe haven and the promise of being escorted there, despite the long journey. "Why the change of heart? What's in this for you?" you asked, curious about his sudden shift in demeanour.
His expression tightened, his gaze drifting to the small swell of your stomach that you now cradled protectively. "Righting some wrongs from a previous life," he answered solemnly, not waiting for your response before turning and beginning to walk away. He paused momentarily, waiting for you to follow.
"I don't know your name. What do I call you?" you called out after him.
He pondered for a moment, gazing out into the vast desert before turning back to you, tipping his hat in acknowledgment.
"Ghoul, for now."
#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard x you#the ghoul x you#fallout#fallout prime#fallout fanfiction#cooper howard#the ghoul#fallout x reader
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pairing: the ghoul x fem!reader word count: 4k summary: after two weeks of traversing the wasteland with cooper on the search for a common enemy, you found yourself needing some⊠relief. it just so happened that you werenât alone in the sentiment. warnings: mdni! smut, choking, praising, cooper likes complimenting you while he fucks you. đ€ notes: continuation of this post!
travelling with cooper started as a forced necessity, one that you hadnât been able to make an executive decision on, but the feeling of that rope around your neck had been long forgotten as you both careened through the wasteland together. cooper had proved his loyalty to you, a surprising feat that you had never imagined being possible. if there was even an ounce of kindness or empathy within that man, it was invisible to the naked eye. he did a damn good job at hiding any and all outward emotion, reeking of wit, sarcasm and cockiness.
yet, you had been gifted with seeing another side of the ghoul, a side which made you wonder what sort of feelings he harbored for you. it was a tricky thought and easy to get lost in it, especially as you wandered behind him and were given ample time to just⊠stare.
each night you were greeted with his hands in your hair, gloveless fingers pulling through the strands and sometimes tickling against your cheek until you fell asleep. his lap had become your pillow, and his jacket was your bed and blanket.
neither of you spoke about it, most mornings waking up as though your nightly intimacy had never happened. you were thankful for it because you had no idea how to even comprehend how you felt for cooper.
love was too soon. infatuation was too strong.
you respected him. you cared for him. you appreciated the way he protected you.
you yearned for his touch.
each day as the hot sun burned your skin, you watched him from behind and imagined things about him. it started off as daydreaming about his fingers in your hair, rubbing along your scalp and how you couldnât wait for night to come. soon, though, these thoughts drifted when you were greeted with a deep, familiar coiling in your stomach that came when you had spent enough time away from self pleasure.
guilt gnawed away when you found yourself dreaming about him in ways that made you squeeze your thighs. what would his lips feel like against yours? what sounds would come from his lips as he fucked you senselessly?
you rarely got far with your thoughts before you had to ask for a sip of water and a short rest, avoiding his groans of disapproval for slowing you both down.
cooper felt the same way, but the guilt riddled him far more than you could ever imagine. he had lived far longer in this world than you, he became a changed manâwas once a loving father and husband who was betrayed and transformed into nothing but a merciless, murderous bounty hunter.
he knew better than to think of you in any way other than just a partnered traveler of the wasteland. war may have changed him, but there were morals that belonged to the old cooper howard that would remain forever.
you were so much younger than he was, an innocent little thing that had come to the surface after spending your whole life in a vault, all because you were so intent on saving a life and finding the truth. you had so much kindness and curiosity in your heart, once comparable to him when he was nothing more than a star for the masses. nothing good would come from him taking that innocence away from you, especially after what youâd experienced only a week prior at the hands of the man who wanted you in exchange for caps.
at night, his mind was pure filth when he thought about you as his fingers ran along your scalp, eyes watching the way your chest moved up and down. how your lips parted when gentle snores would escape.
you woke up alone most times, unaware that the reasoning was because cooper had to excuse himself in the early morning hoursâa bit of relief.
you werenât so lucky because he never left you alone.
âcooper,â you whined, smacking your lips audibly so he heard you from a few paces behind, âcan we rest? i need water, and maybe something to eat.â
boots stopped in the sand as you two ventured closer to the mojave, foliage becoming distant as the hot sun and dry air took over. after some investigating, the ghoul had found some intel on the whereabouts of another peculiar vault dweller, presumably your father, who had made way for new vegas. the travels had become difficult now as civilization was few and far between, and you still hadnât been given any alone time that you desperately needed.
cooper glanced over his shoulder at you, quirking a hairless brow curiously, âand how do you think weâre going make it through the desert if weâre stoppinâ every mile, sweetheart?â the nickname rolled off his tongue easily, but he hadnât meant it so sweetly.
âi like you better at night,â you huffed at him as you trudged forward, walking past him and taking the lead, âyouâre much nicer then.â
you could hear the sigh as heavy steps came up behind you, leather rustling as cooper fell in stride beside you so casually, âseems we see eye to eye on that matter,â he drawled, âyou demand less when the moon is high, vaultie. the sound of you snorinâ means i can stop listeninâ to your yappinâ,â he clicked his tongue, solidifying his point.
âyouâre the worst,â you seethed quietly between your teeth, keeping your eyes ahead and doing your best to ignore the way his voice warmed your cheeks and butterflies swirled in your stomach.
nightfall came fast, thankfully, and the two of you had just managed to stumble upon a rickety old home nestled in a hilly area of the desert. it was full of enough sand and dust to know that no one had set foot in it for a long timeâsafe enough for you to settle down for a rest. cooper allowed you to indulge in your stores of water and jerky, only enough to keep your stomach from eating itself alive.
however, water and food wouldnât sate your libido. as a small fire warmed you as the harsh cold of the desert chilled you to the bone, you tucked your knees to your chest and closed your eyes to focus on your breathing. you had never felt more like an animal in your life, when you were in the vault you may not have had tens of suitors at your disposal, but you had plenty of alone time and two very usable hands. you were used to indulging when arousal struck.
you felt awful. your mind shouldâve been fixated on your fatherâs whereabouts, yet you rested your chin on your knees and squeezed your eyes shut as you tried not to think about cooper fucking you. he was sitting right next to you, for crying out loud.
as if he knew you were thinking about him, the cowboy ghoul looked over at you with a quiet sigh escaping him as he shrugged off his long, leather coat, âhere. youâre gonnaâ freeze to death before morninâ,â he spoke lowly, shifting so he could drape it over your shoulders until it covered much of your body, âdesert nights arenât for amateur adventurers.â
a shaky breath quivered from your lips as warmth enveloped you, and you couldnât help but lean your body against his side to chase more. in response, you felt cooperâs body tense for a brief moment before his arm slowly wrapped over your shoulders and hugged you tight against his side.
silence surrounded you, much like cooper, and you found yourself quickly drifting into a much-needed sleep. unfortunately for you, you were afflicted with the curse of sleep-talking, especially when you were particularly stressed.
cooperâs eyes were fixated on the fire, red and orange embers burning on the old wood as the smoke bellowed out the open windows. heâd been lost deep in his thoughts, wondering how he was letting himself get so soft for someone he hardly knewâthen you started mumbling in your sleep. words mostly unintelligible.
âmmh,â you grunted, your eyes squeezing tight as you tilted your face toward cooper, nose brushing against the tight, weathered skin on his neck. it made his breath catch in his throat, âcooper.â
his eyes flickered down to you, tilting his chin just enough so he could see the way your eyes were moving behind their lids, dreaming vividly. he knew that he should wake you up, or at least give you a slight nudge so you would turn away or move down to rest over his lap, but curiosity won. he licked at his lips as you furrowed your brows, your breath hitching in your throat as you choked on what he could only imagine was a moan.
âplease,â you slurred quietly, âcooper, donât⊠stop.â
âvaulââ cooperâs nickname for you was cut short when your hand had slithered past the confines of the coat and right over the bulge that tented in his pants, gentle fingers rubbing, âshit.â he hissed, fighting back a low grumble as he watched with half-lidded eyes.
there was no turning back now, not when he flickered his gaze to look over your face, only to be met with your own tired eyes, just barely open. shit.
âi really need this,â you murmured, inhibitions long gone as the night sank in, âplease.â
âyou need to think long and hard about this, darlinâ,â cooper managed to keep his voice level as his gloved hand reached for yours and pushed it until it rested on his thigh.
âiâve thought about it for a whole week,â you pleaded, fingernails scratching at the fabric of his pants.
there was the smirk you were hoping to see, cracking his lips apart as a laugh whistled out of him, âwell, now, a whole week is quite some time to be keeping these feelings at bay without actinâ on âem. maybe youâve got more willpower than i thought.â
you swallowed thickly, pulling away from him just enough so you could sit straighter, âdonât tease me,â you spoke, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout that made heat pool in the pit of his stomach, âi can very much tell you need this as much as i do.â
when his lips twitched you knew you had him right where you wanted him, there was no sense in him denying it. not when you could take one quick glance down to see the trouble youâve caused for him.
âyou think you know what i need?â cooperâs voice, as thick as molasses, made a shiver run down your spine. he lifted a hand after snagging the glove off, caressing your jaw as his calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip. long gone were the thoughts that worried about morals, you had each other pinned and the outcome was inevitable.
âi do,â you said as you shifted in your spot, âyou can touch me. iâm not going to break.â
that roused a laugh deep from cooperâs chest, a smile breaking across his lips, âoh, trust me, if you were gonnaâ break you wouldâve shattered when i first lassoed that rope around your precious neck,â he grinned, âyou are somethinâ elseâa real force to be reckoned with.â
you parted your lips to speak, but your breath was quickly taken when cooperâs pressed against yours and within seconds your entire body was on fire. arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck, the leather jacket falling off of your body as you moved to your knees for better support. you fought for air as you kissed him with desperation, hands clinging tight to his collar as you slipped so easily onto his lap with your knees on either side of his hips.
his hands slid up the side of your body, caressing your curves as your tongues pressed together and moans muffled in each otherâs mouths. with ease, one hand moved to your front so he could tug down at the zipper on your vault outfit, just like the one heâd worn many moons before.
you broke the kiss so you could lean back and take a breath, your chest heaving with each inhale as you helped him remove the jumpsuit until it slid off your shoulders and left you in the white tank top that hugged tight against your breasts. not once did you feel judged under his gaze, in fact, his appreciation for your boldness was palpable, especially as he wore that shit-eating smirk while his fingers slipped under the hem of your top. his skin was rough against yours that had been mostly untouched from the harsh sun rays, it made you tilt your head back and let out a soft sound.
âi wannaâ hear more of those delicious sounds,â cooperâs voice was heavy in your ear as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against your jaw, hands grabbing tight at your bare hips and fingers digging into the skin.
he wasnât afraid to handle you rough, squeezing a whimper out between your plump lips as he forced your hips to roll against his. both of you relished in the friction, you could feel his hardened cock buried underneath his clothing as it pressed against your aching cunt. it clenched around nothing pathetically as you rubbed yourself against him with need.
âfuck,â you breathed out shakily as you kept your hips grinding forward in a steady motion, feeling like you could cum like thisâbut cooper wasnât going to have any of that.
âlanguage, darlinââ he teased, his teeth dragging across your skin as his lips kissed down your neck, nipping at your skin so he could hear your soft mewls of pleasure as your fingers began hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt, rather poorly.
once rid of the fabric, your hands explored over his body, the skin thick and rough like leather, far different than anything youâve experienced or known to be true. as your eyes fixated on his body in the firelight and your fingernails scratched at the surface of his chest, you shuddered when he slipped your shirt off and revealed your tits for him to ravage at his leisure.
you had felt selfish for so long, telling yourself that being on the surface meant giving up parts of your old life. pleasure wouldnât be easy to come by, if at all. there were important things to focus on, lives to save.
yet, here you wereâlaying on your back over cooperâs leather jack as his hands tugged off the remainder of your vault suit and tossed it behind him. he was settled on his knees before you, so close to you that you were forced to spread your legs on either side of him.
long fingers pressed against your panties, the fabric between your legs soaking wet as he teased you. you could hardly meet his eyes, keeping your own closed as you felt him tug the fabric aside so he could press a digit to your swollen clit. his thumb circled it slowly and you squirmed underneath him, but his other hand pressed against your stomach to keep you flat against the floor.
âkeep still, my girl,â he murmured as he pushed a finger into your pussy, happy to find that a second slid in just as easily, ânow look at you takinâ my fingers so well, you mustâve been needinâ this for a real long time. i suppose i can reward that patience of yours,â he praised you through tender movements, each thrust of his two fingers causing moans to spill from your lips as you squeezed your cunt around them, âgood girl.â
being praised by cooper was a delightful surprise, warmth hitting your cheeks when you opened your eyes and saw him staring down at his fingers while he fucked you with them.
âoh, fuckââ your breath caught in your throat when he curled his fingers, rubbing against the spot that always made you cum. you pulled your knees back so you could press your thighs together around his hand, growing overstimulated. that barely lasted for a second before cooper forced them back apart, the speed of his fingers picking up until he was fucking you relentlessly, your pussy dripping wet and coating his fingers. you hadnât even taken his cock yet and your mouth was wide open and eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as pleasure coursed through your body.
you moaned out his name loudly, your throat growing hoarse as the knot in your stomach wound tight.
cooper let out a heavy sigh, his hand pressing over your lower stomach and his thumb flicking over your clit, âi need you to cum, darlinâ.â
thatâs all the encouragement you needed to hear before you came on his fingers, squirming and touching as his fingers fucked you through the orgasmâhis other hand tugging at his belt buckle.
âoh, goodness,â you breathed, your eyes fluttering as your senses slowly returned to you and you could finally get in a deep breathâbut that hadnât lasted very long, âah, fuck!â
you tilted your chin down and hadnât even noticed that cooper had unbuttoned his pants just enough to let his cock spring out. you werenât given a chance to see how big he was before he was pushing it inside of you. you could already tell he was bigger than anything youâve taken before as it stretched out your pussy, pain shooting through you as you whimpered loudly.
âshh,â cooper pressed a finger to your lips, trying to quiet you down as he pushed his hips forward until his cock was deep inside. you wouldnât stop with the mixture of moans and pained whimpers, so cooper shoved two fingers into your mouth and you sucked on them like a bitch in heat, âfuck.â
both of you needed time to adjust, you could see cooperâs chest moving as he breathed heavily and you could feel his cock twitching. his free hand settled on your hip as he leaned back on his heels, the fingers in your mouth retreating to instead fondle your perfect tits. he was positioned nicely, able to indulge in the sight as his cock slowly pulled out of your swollen cunt, large hand now pressed against your lower stomach to keep you still as he rocked his hips in a slow, steady rhythm.
the ghoulâs mind was far from what was right and wrong. he was hyper focused on how you looked in this moment, your pretty face completely fucked out and full of euphoria. your chin wet from his fingers and your thighs squeezing against his hips to ground yourself from the size of his cock as it filled you completely with each roll of his hips.
slow didnât last longâcooper didnât have the patience, nor the need to go slow. he knew you were a capable young thing, able to take his cock easily as he leaned forward enough so his hand could instead wrap around your throat. his hips snapped against yours mercilessly in one quick thrust, a violent rhythm following after that made you want to scream at the pleasure that made your entire body shake. you swore youâd never felt someone fuck you so deeply, a gurgled moan choked in your throat as he forcefully kept you quiet, pressing on your windpipe.
âkeep takinâ it,â cooper groaned, sweating beading on his forehead as his cock slammed so deep inside you that tears welled up in your eyes from the ache, âyouâre good at taking a cock, vaultie, i shouldâve fucked you senseless sooner.â
you were unable to answer his vulgar words with your jaw slack.
he fucked you like this for a good while, your hands lifting up to press flat against his chest and stomach. he continued to litter you with praises and compliments, words you were certain youâd only hear under this circumstanceâyou hoped this wasnât the only time youâd be fucked by him.
your body was growing weak with each passing second, but you were able to offer enough energy to sit up as cooper pulled you along with him as he sat and leaned back against the wall. you were straddling him once again, your knees raw against the sandy floorboards as his hands guided you to slowly bounce up and down.
your hands rested over his shoulders for support and soon you had enough strength to fuck yourself on his cock just like he wanted, giving him the opportunity to sit back and watch your show.
you were desirable in his eyes, your cheeks red as you squeezed at his shoulders tight, long lashes fluttering as moans fell past your lips that he kissed so much they were plump and swollen. you were surprised that you were able to keep up a good rhythm, feeling him stretch you out each time you pressed your hips down on his. you wanted to talk to him, to tell him how good he felt or how you wanted him to toss you on your hands and knees and fuck you without holding back, but all you could do was moan his name as your head hung back and eyes fixated on the dim ceiling.
âfuck,â he hissed, leaning forward and pressing his lips against your ear as his thumb circled your clit, âi need you to cum on my cock now, darlinâ,â he pleaded, breath hot and sending a shiver down your spine as you had slowly started to lose your strength, âbe a good girl for me,â he cooed, and you were obedient.
much like when you exercised in the vault, you dug deep inside and gathered all your remaining strength, this time for the sake of pleasing yourself and the ghoul who had thrown his morals out the window for the sake of pleasure. cooperâs hand lifted so he could tilt your chin down, forcing your eyes to meet his as you bounced yourself steadily, âcooper,â you whined, âyou⊠ahâfuck. donât stop. please, please, please.â
your begging worked wonders. cooperâs thumb rubbed hard against your clit as he did his best to snap his hips upward each time you slammed down on his cock, meeting you halfway. his groans of pleasure were loud as both of you balanced on the edge of release, seconds away from letting that heat in your stomachs explode.
of course, you were the first to cry out so loud that cooper had to shut you up with his lips.
you came hard, your hips shaking and thighs twitching as you moaned his name as his tongue assaulted yours. you wanted to push him away and fall back onto the floor, to writhe on the ground in pleasure as your body could have a chance to relaxâŠ
but cooper wasnât done yet. with both of his hands landing on your hips, he kept your sensitive cunt fucking his cock like you were just some toy. you were sensitive everywhere, your body hot to the touch and cunt abused by his cock, using a hand to cover your mouth as tears spilled down your cheeks each time he brushed against your cervix.
âshit,â he breathed, âyou little killer.â
with a final, deep thrust of his hips, cooper came inside you with your name strangled in his throat. you could feel the bruising on your skin from his tight hands as you collapsed forward and buried your face into the crook of his neck.
your heavy breaths were the only sounds, aside from the crackling of the dying fire. both of your bodies were damp and sticky from sweat and cumâcold from the wind that blew through the open windows, so you curled up against his chest as his cock softened inside you. neither of you made a move, instead cooper reached for the leather jacket that had been under your body, putting it around your shoulders once more so the cool air was blocked for you both.
âwe should⊠do that again.â you breathed on his skin, smiling when a weak laugh bubbled up from his throat, humoured by you.
finally, relief warmly greeted you both.
#fallout tv#cooper howard#the ghoul#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard x reader#fallout fic#cooper howard fic#the ghoul fic#wordsbyspatial#walton goggins#fallout prime
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The itch
An: so Iâve never written for TUA, I think, I havenât written anything in like a long time cause my brain is made of worms most days, but the new season and mostly five in his new attitude? Personality? His almost soft tired of it all way, gives me the feelings. As a 28 year old women itâs odd that a 68 year old trapped in a 18 year old body works for me like it does but hey, Iâve liked weirder (cough I was in the Hamilton fandom cough) so enjoy this sort of bonding with Lila over the new mundane life and the exhausting reality of having to live it, because I love Lila and hate what they did to her and fives characters with the whole 7 year time line romance. Like why make her a mum of 3 and married to Fives brother just to ruin it like that. But anyway enjoy this weird fic.
Readers power: molecular manipulation, think piper from charmed, overhaul from my hero, uhhh itâs hard to explain but basically it means you can make things explode, freeze people and things by fucking with the molecular structure of said thing.
ââââââââââââââââââââââ-
You wanted to scream, to smash things, to burn yours and fives apartment down, it had been six years of calm, six years of learning to enjoy ânormalâ. Six years of working at dead end jobs because you didnât pass the god damn psych evaluation for the CIA, somehow you are far more âunhingedâ than your husband.
You and five spent 30 years together, a decade in an apocalyptic wasteland when you ended up teleported there by mistake, and then 20 years at the commission becoming trained and ruthless assassins. Now, now Five worked doing CIA investigations and you got stuck working at a grocery store gas station. It was calm, it was normal, it was absolute hell on earth and made your skin itch.
So sitting in the parking lot of the play place for your nieces 6th birthday, you didnât know why you couldnât make yourself leave your car, five was already here, he had texted you as much, everyone else minus Viktor who was in Canada, and Allison who hasnât shown her face irl to any of her siblings in the 6 years, you just needed to get out of the car and walk in with the gift you signed from both you and five for Gracie. It was a set of toy weapons, knives like her dads old ones, and a few other random âplay pretendâ things.
Closing your eyes you leaned your head back against the head rest, taking a deep breath. Almost hitting the gas when the passenger side door opened and slammed closed. Turning eyes wide you saw Lila, the exhausted mothers face blank staring forward
âI just needed a minute, just neededâ you nodded
âTake all the minutes you need. I assume itâs like pulling teeth in there with Diego?â Lila nodded sighing loudly
âFives the same way, just on other stuff, like deciding if he wants to go out to dinner or stay in and order pizza, or if he needs new underwear because the ones he has have so many holes in surprised they still count as underwear, or just simple things like the dishes, like how hard is it to wash a cup, it shouldnât be as hard as it is, how hard is it to just tell me when you need a quiet night cause work was stressful, and you are exhausted from stupid people all day, i work retail, he acts like I donât understand being tired of idiotsâŠI justâŠâ you paused looking back out the windshield
âItâs like your skin is on fire and nothing stops the itch of being a once highly skilled assassin who could fuck with peoples molecules and freeze them in time or make them explode?â You nodded looking at her
âI find myself flicking my hands out and remembering I canât just blow up or freeze people anymore, itâs like an itch and anytime I explain it to five he justâŠâ
âDoesnât listen? Or doesnât understand that you are used to how your life was and now that itâs different, itâs not bad but itâs eye burning mundane clock ticking by slower then ever reality?â
Nodding you sighed
âDiego, he wants to listen, he just, from what five always told me he had a hard time understanding others because his brain is just, frazzled and he feels inadequate, how they grew up I guess shaped them in every timeline. Five is just used to being alone he was alone for 30 years before we met, then I popped up and itâs just. I donât think he gets that sometimes I just need him to..â
âLet you Help with the itchingâ
You nodded smiling at her
âHe just, itâs been a lot, and we havenât quite got the ânormal lifeâ down just yet.â Lila nodded
âItâs not easy in normal marriage land either, 3 kids and a chunky husband who, doesnât make it easier isâŠ.â
âNot helping the itching. Well how about me and you, when the itch gets too bad, we help each other? Maybe find a way to do something, go to a rage room? Do a fighting class something to feel theâŠ.rush? Of what we did before. Have Klaus or someone babysit the kids, be me and you and justâŠ.â
âFighting each other like the before days?â You laughed nodding
âYeahâŠI miss getting to kick your ass and having you kick mineâŠâ
Lila laughed looking around
âWe could start a fight club, you, me, Ben when he gets out of prison. JustâŠ.maybe weâll get used to normal eventuallyâŠ.â You frowned nodding
âYou know if you ever need anything, help with the kids, a friend to vent to when Diego is being DiegoâŠIâm not to far from your guys place. I can always swing by, let the munchkin tornados beat up on auntie Y/N.â You smiled at her for all the mess you and her had been in against each other, she had become one of your closest friends and family members through it all.
Soon enough you finally made your way into the building, the screams of children everywhere, the smell of sugar and something faintly child everywhere. You spotted five by the ball pit, speaking with Ben, walking over you hugged five from behind sighing as you rested your forehead against his back
âHello, love.â You squeezed him in response before looking up and over to Ben
âAhh Benjamin, free from jail, good to see you didnât die, love that you still look like you want to murder us allâ Ben didnât laugh, just glared at you before sighing
âNot in the snark mood got it.â You felt five squeeze your arm a bit pulling away from you, making you groan
Turning to fully look at you, he looked you over smiling softly
âHow was work?â You looked at him blinking slowly before sighing and planting your forehead on his chest, groaning
âAhh I seeâ his hand rubbed your back softly, his other lifting the beer to his lips.
âPeople are stupid. How hard is it to put a gas nozzle in a carâŠ.â
âApparently impossible if what you tell me says anythingâ you looked at him nodding before turning to look around
â10 bucks says Diego forgets to put up the piñata like Lila asked himâ five laughed slightly
âNah 20 says Lila has a mental breakdown before cake is servedâ you looked over to where Lila stood with Gracie helping the young girl fix her party hat,
âNah I think she has a breakdown after presents when she sees what we got Gracieâ five laughed looking down at you, brushing the stray hair from your face, smiling at him you sighed softly again,
it seemed even if you wanted to rip your hair out from the new ânormalâ reality you all had to live in, even if your skin itched from the need to return back to what life was before somehow, it was nice that you still had small moments, where normal wasnât so bad, normal birthday parties for your nieces and nephews, seemingly normal holidays, and normal, non murder happy work. As much as you loathed admitting it, sometimes it was nice. Like now, now was nice.
#the umbrella academy#five hargreeves#five hargreaves x reader#five hargreaves x you#five hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves x you#lila pitts#lila hargreeves#lila x diego#ben hargreeves#sparrow ben#umbrella academy#tua s4#tua season 4#tua
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idk if you would write but i would love to see in ur style a tyrell!reader x robb. imagine being the winter rose? omg living the biggest dream by being a beauty of the seven realms, having tales of ur beauty passed on, and then being betrothed to robb as a mean of house tyrell to guarantee their safety, but still, theres no northern or southern who can resist the tyrell beauty and robb is one of them
nana.. this ask did things to me. i love this idea smsmsm & thank u for sending it in !!
tyrell beauty was never anything that could be denied ïżœïżœïżœ by friend or by foe.
you & your twin sister, margaery, were the greatest testimonies to that. while margaery was no doubt beautiful, tales of your beauty had spread throughout the seven kingdoms. singers, poets, servants & kings alike had all heard and contributed to the spread of the tale of the tyrell rose â not only beautiful in physical aspects, but a gorgeous personality to match.
you & margaerys older brother, loras, was also rumored for his looks. safe to say, you three were widely known.. the beauties of house tyrell.
even the north, cold and harsh as it was, was not exempt from hearing the tales of you & your siblings beauty. jokes and speculations had long passed around winterfell, only increasing tenfold when hearing about house tyrellâs rumored interest in forming an allegiance with the north. when bran, rickon, & arya stepped into the castle, covered in dirt & almost soaking wet from that days ministrations, jory only sighed seeing them, ushering them to baths with a mutter of-
âthe beauties of winterfellâŠâ
robb only laughed at the teases he heard about you & your siblings, but sometimes found his thoughts wandering to you. his mind often drifting to think about the tyrell rose, absurd childlike questions, that he shouldâve pushed away as quickly as they entered his mind. do the tales do your beauty justice? what are you like in person? are you warm? would you like him? what would you think of the north?
he focused on training, doing as he was told & preparing to become lord of winterfell one day, although he couldnât stop the fleeting thoughts about you that arose every once in a while. a childâs dream, he thought.
so you can imagine his surprise when his father & mother sat him down, telling him of the alliance house tyrell wanted to make with house stark..
through marriage.
robb felt like he was dreaming. the beauty of the seven kingdoms, betrothed to him? he could barely keep the smile off his face, wanting to not only improve stature to his house, but do his duty as a husband. excitement pooled in his gut, as theon clasped his hands on robbâs shoulders at dinner, congratulating him. theonâs hands waved in the air, saying something about-
âthe beauty and the beast..â
any other night he wouldâve gotten a shove to the ground, but robb only threw him a playful smile. even theonâs relentless teasing couldnât ruin this for him. if he was to be lord of winterfell one day, heâd need a strong woman by his side â he dreamed of a relationship like his mother and fathers, and he prayed in the godswood to the old gods that night, that they would guide your union as man and wife.
in the days leading up to your arrival at winterfell, countless preparations were made. the tyrell host was large, and all of the starks had done their parts to prepare to receive it. you were to stay in winterfell for a week before the wedding, and your family would leave shortly after. you had handmaidens and a few select soldiers to stay with you at winterfell, and you could visit high garden anytime you wanted in the near future. you asked your grandmother if she would visit you in winterfell again after the wedding, but she only put a hand over your own & said it would take the Father himself to drag her back to that âfrozen wastelandâ.
the day you arrive, robb thinks heâs might jump out of his skin, heâs so nervous. still, he puts on a brave face for his & his families sake, wanting to be everything you need and more.
you, margaery, and the queen of thornes are riding in the wheelhouse, while ser loras is in front of it, mounted on a white mare. his armor glints in the sunlight, doing wonders to illuminate his face. heâs handsome, robb can admit, and that only makes his curiosity increase about you & your sister. & once you both step out of the wheelhouse, robb feels his heart skip as many beats as it can without killing him.
a few of your cousins step out first, giggly as they curtsy to the starks and stand respectively to the side. margaery is next, gorgeous auburn hair & a button nose, a flattering dress with the tyrell colors proudly on display, and a sweet smile to accompany it all. she curtsyâs as well, standing more in front of the wheelhouse, as loras dismounts and moves to stand next to her.
when you step out of the wheelhouse, robbâs breath hitches. his body forgets every single instinct heâs ever had, & he has to remind himself to breathe, as to not kill himself. youâre beautiful. stunning. a sight for sore eyes. he doesnât think thereâs any word in the common tongue that can be used to describe your beauty without downplaying it. it seems like nobody can tear their eyes off of you, your aura doing wonders to brighten the damp atmosphere.
you curtsy to them all, along with a smile he wishes would never leave your face. robb canât tear his eyes from you, even when you move to offer your hand to the queen of thornes as she steps out. you meet robbâs gaze in the moment everyones attention is not on you. the corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk as he winks at you. you only tilt your head, brows lightly furrowing as you smile at him. your gaze falls to the floor as blush rises to your cheeks, retracting your hand from your grandmothers and smoothing out your gown.
pleasantries are exchanged, you and robb stealing glances to each other every so often. lady olenna & a few of your cousins go with ned stark & lady catelyn, moving to discuss the wedding, among other things. you take robbâs arm as he escorts you, margaery, and loras to where youâll be staying at. robb drinks in every moment with you.
youâre gorgeous, soft, & warm. you have a kind heart, a love for the arts and children, and youâre very kind. your shy nature bubbles away as you grow more comfortable in each others presence.
that night, a great feast is held. everyone of the starklings is made to be in attendance, and robb prays that arya can keep her withering resolve just a little bit longer. youâre sat beside him, softly laughing at a remark ned had made. robbâs heart warms at the sight of you & his father getting along, but is quickly forgotten when he sees arya dash away & out of the hall. guards are sent after her, and robb bites back a smile at her daring antics.
heâs snapped out of his thoughts as your hand clasps his bicep, his head turns towards you as you lean into speak in his ear.
âforgive me, i must be excused. iâll return shortly.â you say, a reassuring smile making its way onto your face as you get up. robb only nods, sighing in an attempt to soothe his frayed nerves.
itâs a few minutes later when the queen of thornes sits next to him, striking up light conversation. judging his character, no doubt. at the end of it she nods her head in approval, asking him to please find her granddaughter â wherever sheâs run off to. robb stands up with an-
âof course, my lady.â
moving to follow the direction you went in. it takes him outside, and he looks around, before his gaze settles on you & a small form behind you, a guard approaching in front of you. robb was lucky to be in earshot of you.
âpardon, my lady, weâre looking for arya underfoot, ned starks daughter. âbout yay high, brown of hair. have you seen âer âround?â
you were stood beside a pillar, one arm behind your back as you discreetly pressed arya further behind you. one shift of your form & arya would be revealed, dragged back to the festivities she had just escaped from. robb watched you from afar, careful not to give away your position â but close enough to hear & see your response. curiosity spread through him as he and the guard both awaited your answer.
your brows furrowed in faux confusion, looking at the guard with a soft expression.
âi must confess, i havenât seen her. brown of hair, you said?â
the guard swallowed, nodding as he eyed you up & down. you smiled sweetly at him.
âi will be sure to keep an eye out, serâŠ?â
you slightly raised your brows, and the guard quickly gave you his name. you repeated it to him, and the guard nodded, smiling.
âwould you be so kind to escort me back to the festivities? a castle like this.. itâs so easy to get lost.â
the guard quickly agreed, not being able to resist you, & robb is enamored, having witnessed the tyrell charm firsthand. what happens next seals the deal for robb.
as you move to take the guards arm, you spot loras patrolling, his path sending him to pass on the other side of the pillar that youâre at. the eye contact between you both is minimal, and robb almost misses your eyes slightly widen & the small nod of his head. with one swift move, youâre grasping the guards bicep & using your other hand to gently push arya to your older brother, as he outstretches his hand just enough for arya to get the hint. as you walk off, loras has one hand on aryas shoulder, ushering her off with a wink â & robb watches the smile grow on aryas face as she slips away.
yeah, he thinks. youâre perfect.
his winter rose.
sorry if this was too long or not what you were envisioning, but i had sm fun writing this !! tyrell supremacy
#game of thrones#asoiaf#robb stark#robb stark x reader#robb stark imagine#robb stark prompt#robb stark x tyrell reader#also#i said loras was on patrol because it just made sense to me idk đ#perhaps donât flame me chat#anyways i need his children#dippys asks#goodnight chat
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Trouble Like A Mugshot (1.5k)
Pairing: Lucy Maclean/Cooper Howard
Summary: After a long day of travelling the wastelands, Lucy is feeling horny and asks Cooper if he wants to have sex with her. A question which is much more complicated than she could have possibly known.
(A/N: I might turn this into a short series of moments showcasing the pairs developing relationship from this to hard nsfw if that's something folks would like to see.)
Fic Masterlist
Link to AO3
Lucy Maclean was no stranger to the difficult to ignore feelings which were pressing at her body. Fingers slightly trembling, breath coming in shorter bursts than she would admit to, eyes unable to pull themselves fully away from the lounging ghoul who reclined in his nearby bunk with a relaxed stance; cowboy hat tipped across his face as he feigned sleep.
Lucy Maclean knew herself enough to understand that her restlessness wasn't the radition sickness which had recently started to touch at her peripherals again. Nor was it the fact that it had been weeks since she'd had any time to herself that wasn't shadowed by either her ghoulish companion or some other entity.
Lucy Maclean was horny and she was never one to deny herself a simple, sneaky little indulgence when the mood took her.
"Hey, Cooper." She called, fingers rolling across her bare forearms as she sat with her back to the wall, legs crossed in a neat pile. "You awake and listening to me?"
"Hard not to with those foghorn vocals." A grumpy response, muffled by the hat rang back at her. "What are you yapping your flap about?
"Do you want to have sex?"
In their time together, Lucy had never witnessed Cooper doing anything that her vault lessons had taught her were sexual acts. He didn't touch himself around her, didn't disappear for some self-relief as the boys did, didn't make any kind of pass at her like some of the others had done before her husband had been selected. As far as she knew, maybe the ghoul didn't even feel the same things she did, and that realisation made her roll back on her question almost as quickly as she had asked it.
"I mean, if you can have sex that is. I don't know if your," Lucy paused, unsure how to describe her partners physical state without causing offence, "condition, makes it possible. I don't even know if you have the right parts for it but there's other ways of experiencing pleasure. We could use our mou-"
Cutting herself off as her babbling reach a new octave, Lucy watched as Cooper's body - his frame stock still since she had asked her initial question - finally stirred into action. A reddened hand slowly rose from its position by his hip until it reached the cowboy hat, plucking the leather from his face as he turned to look at his bunkmate and travelling companion with an indescribable expression; various emotions fluttering through his typically stoic face.
"I know your experiences with ghouls are limited, princess." Cooper spoke patiently, voice low as he fired the hated nickname at her, her vocal dislike of the new monkier making it a very quick favourite of his. "But the whole package is still intact so let's get that established before you go telling people falsehoods about my good person."
"Okay. Noted." Lucy held her hands up apologetically and her knees touched as she lounged against the concrete wall which was supporting her. "But you didn't answer me. Do you want to? Have sex, I mean? Last time i did was with my assigned husband and it was good enough, great even, but then he tried to kill me and it was this whole thing."
Mentally filing that information away for future use and subtle further investigation, Cooper lay back fully against his own cot and tilted his head closer in her direction, thankful for the dimness of their shared room as it shielded most of his features.
"As much as I'd love to bury my bone in a new patch of land, I don't think that's necessarily the best choice in terms of this little partnership we've stitched together."
Indicating his sewn finger, he wagged it at her dismissively as a discomforting sensation flooded his stomach, mild arousal at the thought of some tail mixing with something dangerous that set his teeth on edge.
"Why not? It's only sex."
Suddenly feeling older than he had any right to, Cooper fell silent as he mused on her question for a moment.
Lucy Maclean.
Eyes as big as a doe, that girl was built soft but he was lucky enough to see people for what they truly were and the steel which lurked beneath the painful optimism and naivety that shone free of her would make her a dangerous player if she ever truly entered the game. He felt the burden of his own cruelty at times, cornering her into making decisions that would cause her little vaultie friends to vomit if they knew the violence she enacted, but with every difficult choice came a fresh coating to that steel which would see her survive and thrive in the wastelands.
It's only sex.
In his life, Cooper Howard had enjoyed less sexual partners than many would believe. A sticky fumbling in the upper level of an old barn had been his first, the other party a sweet girl from a nearby ranch who was two years older and knew what she wanted from him. Pretty soon after that came Barb and as soon as he laid eyes on her he never saw anything past her.
War was terrible for the other men and many lost themselves in drink and the women who haunted the barracks and backlines looking for poor souls to feed on. But not him. Never him.
Not when he had to come home to Barb.
Even when married and at the height of his fame, when aspiring young things would throw themselves at him, their perfumes overpowered by the stink of wine and cigarettes, he had rebuffed them politely. He was loyal and he enjoyed the fruits of that loyalty as he held his wife in his arms and basked in the sweet sounds that she would make as they fucked. Hell, she had even given him a daughter and he loved her every day for it.
War never changes.
But he did.
And fuck him if his new appearance and designation as a Ghoul didn't screw him out of any chance of some stress relief as he wandered the wastelands. Might as well have been a fucking leper for all the tail which was now afforded to him and his leathery visage.
Not for Lucy Maclean though.
She, it seemed, didn't care about any of that.
"Did I say something wrong? The leaders explained all acts of intercourse to us so I know what I'm doing and I consent fully."
Lucy's voice, heated with an almost defensive lilt, broke into his musings and Cooper blinked at her as the hole that made up his nose flared while he inhaled deeply.
"I don't doubt that, darling. I've seen how you handle a pistol." Reverting to his typical sarcasm as he looked, truly looked, at her, Cooper sighed at the earnestness which oozed from her features. "But I'm gonna have to decline. Politely."
"Is it because of me? Did i do somethig wrong? I mean, my husband didn't seem to mind but then he was planning on killing me anyway so y'know?" Making a wild gesture with her fingers as she spoke, the casualness of her speech wasn't enough to mask the genuine insecurity which threaded through the questions.
"You're fine. Attractive little thing, even. I think any man would jump at the chance to have you wrapped around them like an old holster."
He wasn't lying- and he wasn't blind. She was a good looking young woman, her innocence flickering like the dull embers of a welcoming fire in the darkness of the wastelands. She was enthusiastic, eager, and damn pretty with those big eyes and curved figure which hid beneath the bulky clothes which she used for protection. More than once he'd caught himself glancing at her as she bent to snatch up things from the floor and the few times he did allow himself to fall into something like sleep featured breathy moans and the feeling of long, brunette strands brushing through his ungloved hands. Mouthy too so he knew she would be a vocal one - probably yowling like a hellcat.
It would be so easy to have her.
A simple yes and she would no doubt leap into action, shedding those clothes as quickly as did her weapons when trying to find peaceful solutions to violent problems. He would treat her right, everh inch the gentleman cowboy and no doubt much better than that shady husband she'd unwittingly fucked. He'd show her things with his fingers and mouth that would have her screaming loud enough to wake up all the devils in hell. Against the cot, against the wall and against whatever furniture she wanted, he could show her how a real man treats a woman as they both burned off some stress.
Feeling a very definite stirring in his groin, Cooper was quick to banish the dangerous thoughts.
"But a bad man like me shouldn't be allowed near a pretty little thing yourself. You're ready for a lot, Lucy Maclean, but you ain't ready for that."
Something almost like understanding passed through her gaze and Lucy nodded, instead exhaling deeply as she tapped the back of her head against the wall behind her.
"In that case, would you mind leaving for an hour so that I can masturbate, please?"
Cursing himself for the little shred of morality which plucked at his heart and refused to allow him to ruin this unknowing tease of a woman, Cooper dutifully rose to his feet and marched to the nearby door.
"You get half an hour." He grunted, barely tilting his head towards her as he stormed out into the nighttime air - determined to get far enough away that there was no chance that he would hear her and break his determined stance.
Besides, he might not be fucking her but as his cock pressed against his slacks, he wasn't masochistic enough to deny himself a similar pleasure and the distance would also give him some much needed alone time.
Goddamn Lucy Maclean.
Links to rest of the series:
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
#fallout#fallout amazon#lucy maclean#cooper howard#lucy x cooper#ghoucy#lucy x ghoul#cooper x lucy#ghoul x lucy#fallout smut#walton goggins#ella purnell#vaultghoul#ghoulcy
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Dragons Fight, Little Light (Prologue)
Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon OFC Synopsis: Two dragons of a different scale that were meant to loathe one another instead found the love and comfort they had always sought. Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Violence, Targcest, Begins with HOTD S1, Not Proofread Word Count: 7,573
âHow long are we to stay?â Eraena asked, already displeased by what she had seen from a distance. She was still up in the heavens and the stench of the capitol already made her want to retch. âIt smells like shite,â She hears her father call from a distance, and she felt her lips twitch upwards in agreement. Eraena undid the ropes that secured her to her saddle and was assisted off her mount by her brother. âLooks like it, too,â Jacaerys snickered and grimaced at the view of the outside.Â
âLykiri, Alina, lykiri, my girl,â Eraena sighed as she stepped closer to her dragon, mumbling the words against her snout and pressing her lips against the scales of her beloved dragon. âBut seriously, how long are we to stay?â Eraena asked once more, and she heard her mother snort. âWeâve only just arrived, my sweet,â Rhaenyra said as she threaded towards the wheelhouse. âCome, your brothers are waiting,â She smiled and led out her hand for her daughter to take. Eraena turned to her. Her silver hair shone upon the capitol sun, her pale skin looking even paler against her black dress, her figure lithe, wide purple eyes crinkling as she smiled at her. Eraena could not help but compare herself to what her Mother looked like once more.Â
Where her Mother was light, she was dark; where she was true, Eraena was not. Where silver hair was supposed to grow, there were instead dark locks. Amethyst eyes that shone brightly turned to obsidian. The features of a doe had turned to look like those of its prey. Eraena scowled. Now, she was once again subjected to more talk as they returned to this wasteland.Â
âStop scowling,â Jacaerys said, and the girl rolled her eyes. âI will do as I please, brother; I do not stop you from expressing yourself. I say nothing when you pout, why must you stop me?â She questioned and placed a pillow upon her lap as she took her seat. The wheelhouse housed five of them: Rhaenyra and her husband, along with her three elder children. The three watched as the twins started to argue. A knowing smile came along the eldest Targaryen, but his wife sighed, growing tired of watching and hearing the two argue for the past six and ten years.Â
âBecause you look ghastly when you scowl, do you wish for them to see the once beautiful and renowned princess, the pearl of the realm, look like a witch ready to cast them with a spell?â Eraenaâs eyes widened upon her brotherâs words. She had no come back to defend herself, no insult to throw at her brother, so she pinched his arm in frustration. Jacaerys howled and glared at his sister, ready to retaliate with another insult. âYou two, enough roughhousing!â Their Mother chastised them before he could even open his mouth.Â
âJace called me a witch! I was only defending myself, Mother!â Eraena reasoned. âBe that as it may, a princess does not inflict harm to those who give her petty and untrue insults,â The girlâs shoulders deflated, and she could see from the side of her eye the smirk on her brotherâs lips. âYour mother is right; when an insult is levied at you, you must not resort to violence,â Eraena stared oddly at her Father, âYou resort to violence all the time!â She argued, and Rhaenyra turned to her husband with a small smile on her lips. âWell,â He said and thought for a moment. âBest armor up, Jacaerys, if you plan to throw more insults at your sister.â The younger prince rolled his copper eyes and turned to the slats of the wheelhouse that revealed the city.Â
When they arrived in the keep, only one thing was shared amongst the family. Disgust. It seemed that in the nine years, it was not only the children that had been subjected to change but also the keep. Eraena traced the stitching of her dress as she looked around the castle they once called home.Â
âItâs⊠clean,â she says, trying to find a positive. âDo not lie to yourself, daughter.â Her Father bit in ancient tongue, making her bite down on her cheeks. âHow could they let this happen?â Rhaenyra whispered, her eyes roaming around the hall. âWhy is there a seven-pointed star here? Have they turned the keep into a sept?â Jacaerys asked as he eyed the figure hanging above them. âI would say it is nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it,â Their Mother said in disbelief, her hand resting on her swelling bump. âHm,â her husband hummed and stepped further into the keep; his Valyrian gaze filled with nothing but repulsion.Â
Erarna turned to Jacaerys, who was tugging their younger brother along. âWhere are you two going?â She questioned, âTiltyard, care to join, sister?â Eraena made a face of contempt, making Jace chuckle, and hurriedly pulled their younger brother away. âCome, let us visit your grandsire,â Rhaenyra called and led out her hand for her daughter to take. Eraena chewed on her lip as they passed hallway upon hallway. It was the same as she remembered, yet at the same time, it was not. How can something so familiar be so strange at the same time?Â
As they entered the room, Eraena was appalled at how they had left it unclean and how they had let it dust away. The figurines that her grandsire once cherished were now filled with cobwebs and held the remnants of neglected time. She turned to her Mother, the disgust on her face unfading. She was too preoccupied eyeing the figurines that Eraena had not noticed that her parents had disappeared to the other half of the kingâs chambers. The girl blew away the dust of the models, and her fingers itched to hold them once more. Her eyes closed in on a specific figure, and as she made her way to reach and inspect it closely, her name was called.Â
âEraena,â Her Father called and motioned his head for the girl to join them. She made quick steps to where they stood. Eraena caught a glimpse of her grandfather lying unmoving on the feathered bed, and she was certain that it was a corpse. The kingâs corpse that was left rotting and decaying. She took a sharp intake of breath as the kingâs hand twitched. âE⊠Eraena? Is that you? Oh, my sweet granddaughter.â She heard the frail voice, and she turned to her Mother and Rhaenyra only urged her daughter to step closer even though Eraenaâs face was filled with apprehension and perhaps even fear.
Eraena held back her look of shock at the state of the king. âIt is. Iâm here, grandfather,â she said and kneeled upon his bed. âOh⊠you look just like her,â Eraena could see a smile starting to form upon his grey, cracked lips. âH-her?â She asked and gave a quick look to her Mother. Who in their family could she possibly look like? It was notable that there were scarce things that she had inherited from her Mother. âAemma, my AemmaâŠâ Eraena could only sadly smile. Her grandsire was truly fading. âA beauty you three are,â The frail king coughed and pointed to his side, and Eraena turned to the table beside her and retrieved the cup placed on it. The king took big gulps as his granddaughter held the cup to his grey and cracked lips. Eraenaâs brows scrunched as the liquid emitted a certain odor.Â
She turned to her Father with a confused look on her face; Daemon only nodded. âThank you,â The king said, and Eraena placed down the cup. âYou must rest, Father; weâ we will return after you rest,â Rhaenyra said in great concern, but her voice was soft and tried to hide her distress. Daemon took hold of her hand, and Eraena followed her parents toward the fireplace of the chambers. âSee to it your brothers do not get themselves into any trouble; you were always the best at handling those two.â Her Mother smiled and cupped her cheek. âI do not see why; Jacaerys is older than me; he should play peacekeeper, not me.â The girl sighed. âOnly by ten minutes, and your brother does not hold the same senses in him. Now go,â She smiled at her daughter sweetly, giving a loving pat on her behind as Eraena walked to exit the Kingâs chambers.Â
Eraena walked the halls and kept her head held high. The whispers of the court seemed to scream at her. Itâs not as if she were surprised; she had heard all the vile rumors and whispers of vipers, and sadly, they were true. Eraena drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders, standing tall. Whispers of vipers should not matter to princesses, she reminded herself. Eraena stood above the tiltyard in search of two boys in blue. As she reached the tiltyard, her eyes passed the silver hair fluttering with every skillful move the fighter made, and she told herself not to grow distracted. Finally, she saw her brothers and made a beeline to where they stood. They had blocked her view; well, Jacaerys did. The prince had grown a few inches taller than his twin sister, but their younger brother still did not reach Eraenaâs height.
âWhat are you doing here?â Jacaerys asked. âMother sent me. She feared you two may cause trouble.â Jacaerys scoffed. âUs? Were you not the one caught multiple times trying to sneak out of the castle in the dead of night?â Her twin countered. âI believe she had even bribed the guards when she would return home drunk,â Lucerys added. Eraena rolled her eyes. âThat was in Dragonstone; I am completely behaved here. It is you two who had unending squabbles and petty fights with our uncles.â As the words left her lips, their attentions shifted toward the crack of wood and the violent swings of a Morningstar.Â
Ser Cole made to strike his Morningstar at the silver prince, who had dodged every attempt. Eraena turned away, not particularly enjoying the scene of battle; the girl looked around at the space and noted that, unlike in the inside of the keep, the tiltyard had not been changed. The crowdâs applause brought her away from her thoughts. âWell done, my prince, you will be winning tourneys in no time. They heard the knight say. âI donât give a shit about tourneys,â came the reply.Â
Eraena took hold of my brotherâs arms and linked them with her own, âCome, let us go. The smell of sweat unsettles me,â She said and attempted to tug at them. âNephews, have you come to train?â They hear the one-eyed prince call. Eraena caught his eye and reminded herself to keep her expression neutral, which she had failed. When her eyes were captured by the prince, she was quick to look away as a man shouted a command. Eraena turned to look at the gates and saw the reason why they were all there. Vaemond Velaryon entered the yard with his bannermen and passed the three siblings with a pointed look. Eraena licked her lips and tightened her hold on Lucerysâ arm, feeling her younger brother grow still and nervous. When Vaemond passed, the princess turned to Jacaerys. âNow, can we go?â She whispered, and he nodded.Â
âNot so fast,â the prince said, and Eraena watched as he twirled the sword in his handâa malicious grin on his lips. âYou still have not greeted your uncle. Has your stay in Dragonstone made you so impolite?â There was no indication of anything on Eraenaâs face, making the prince tilt his head in challenge. âHello, uncle,â Eraena said, the last word foreign on her tongue. That was all she said before she turned away and walked upward, away from the tiltyard and with her brothers in tow. She gave no second glance at the silver prince even though she was tempted so.Â
âWhere are you going?â Jacaerys asked as he matched his sisterâs hastened steps. âTo greet Rhaena, I reckon she and the babes have arrived by now,â she said and turned a corner. âThen where are we supposed to go?â Eraena paused and looked at her brothers. She shrugged; she did not even know why she was even sent to the tiltyardâ she only knew they were to stir clear of any conflict. âJust do not⊠engage⊠or cause trouble. Avoid them at all costs; I know I will. There is a lot at stake at the moment,âÂ
âBut we wanted to train,â Lucerys said, and Eraena turned to her older brother. âPerhaps later than then, when Aemond and Ser Criston had finished. Or perhaps find other grounds to train.â She suggested and Lucerys gave a small nod at her offered solution. âThere you three are!â Rhaena exclaimed by the end of the hall. âJoffery would not let me leave, kept insisting me to play that insipid game you invented for him,â She said to her sister who she greeted with a kiss on her cheek. âAh, another victim of flowers and thorns.â Jacaerys snickered. âI eventually got so tired that I accidentally threw it overboard.â Eraenaâs eyes widened, âWhy would you do that? I spent days painting and mapping out that board!â She asked her sister in shock.Â
âIâm sorry! But we had been playing since the ship had left the harbor in Dragonstone! I grew tired at the sight of it!â Eraena sighed and nodded, understanding her sisterâs actions. âWhen is Baela to arrive?â Eraena asked, and the three shrugged, âShe had not said in her letter, but I would think it would be the day before the trial.â Rheana replied. âSo, today?â Lucerys asked. Eraena could see the obvious nervousness in her brother. She went to ruffle his hair, a comfort she often did since they were children.Â
âYouâll be all right. You are the true heir of Driftmark; no second son can take that from you.â Eraenaâs furrowed brows deepened as her brother shook his head. âIâI am not even supposed to be the heir! It was supposed to be you,â he reasoned. âWell, take it up with the gods. They did not give me a cock, and in consequence, I cannot have Driftmark, and you must bear this.â She tried to jest. âEraena,â Jacaerys scolded with her choice of words. âIt is unfair! Not just to you, but Lucerys as well. You are the second born! It was clear that whatever was in between your legs, you were set to inherit Driftmark.â Rhaena huffed.Â
âWell⊠no. It was clarified that whatever gender Motherâs first child would be, they would inherit the throne. It was not the same condition when it came to Driftmark.â Jacaerys explained. âItâs fine, truly, I am perfectly contented on being the heir of Dragonstone,â Eraena added. âI should hope so, especially when Aââ Rhaena caught herself before she could continue her sentence, both of the girlâs eyes widening. âEspecially when what?â Jacaerys asked, quick to catch the secret between the two girls. The two girls looked at each other, sending messages with their eyes. âWhen what?â Jacaerys repeated. âNothing,â Rheana quickly said. âNo, you were clearly going to say something; what is it?â Jacaerys urged. âNothing, Iââ Rhaena was saved when another voice was heard at the end of the hall.Â
âSisters?â Baelaâs voice carried, and the four forgot what they were talking about. âBaela!â Eraena said excitedly as she hurriedly made their way to them. âOh, Iâve missed you!â She said gleefully, enveloping the two girls in her embrace. âJust them?â Jacaerys asked, and the newly arrived princess rolled her eyes. âYou two, as well.â She said. âWhen have you arrived?â Lucerys asked. âJust now, I rode with grandmother on Melys,â Eraena smiled at an image of Baela atop the clouds with their grandmother flashing through her mind. Moondancer was still growing for her to take such a trip, so it made sense they rode together.Â
The five, were now finally complete. They walked along the halls of the keep and engaged in conversation and exchanging anecdotes of their time spent apart. They reached the gardens, and Eraena detached herself from the group and observed the flowers that the keep held. So many variants that did not grow in Dragonstone. She took a yellow flower in her hand, feeling the petals between the tips of her fingers, the voices of her siblings growing farther away. She raised the flower to her nose and frowned at the lack of fragrance.Â
âEraena,â she heard her name called. The girl turned from the flower and saw as the queen stood behind her. âMy Queen,â She said and quickly curtsied. âI see you are enjoying the gardensâŠalone... unescorted?â She questioned with a raise of her auburn brow. âOhâ my siblings areâŠâ she drifted from her sentence, noticing they had disappeared. âI was with my siblings; I only got distracted by the flowers.â She reasoned. Eraena watched the queenâs lips thin, clasping her hands in front of her. âBest find them, princess. It is not advisable⊠or even seen proper to see you roam the keep unescorted. Would not want a fate befall twice.â Eraena was confused and wanted to question the queenâs words, but for this instance, she only nodded and excused herself to find her siblings.Â
She took hold of her skirts as she made fast steps to find the group. She had wandered the lower floor of the keep for some time and she still failed to find her siblings. Eraena disregarded the plan to find the four and made her way to her assigned chambers. She mindlessly walked the halls, her head filled with other thoughtsâ thoughts that preoccupied her so that she had crashed with another. âWatch it,â She heard the cold voice of Aemond, unlike earlier, the smirk on his lips was long gone. âSorry,â The girl quickly said and stepped away from the prince to continue her walk. No other spare glance was given,Â
âWatch where you walk, Lady Strong.â At those words, Eraena stilled. She turned to her uncle; the smirk on his thin lips had returned quickly. Should she retaliate? she thought, then remembered the words she uttered to her brothers just a few moments before. Eraena licked her lips and walked away, taking the prince's smirk with her.Â
Night soon came, and supper was held in her Motherâs chambers. âVaemond had arrived,â the eldest prince said. âWe know we were there to welcome the second son of the tides,â Eraena replied, and her Father raised his brow in question. âTomorrow is the trial. We must all be ready for whatever those cunts throw at us.â Eraenaâs eyes widened when Baela choked on her wine; it seemed that she had forgotten how crass her Father was. âHow was your exploration of the keep?â Rhaenyra asked the five.Â
âEraena disappeared,â Jacaerys answered. âI did not! You left me in the gardens then I could not find you four,â She explained. âMother, are we not allowed to venture here unescorted? The queen said it was improper for me to be without an escort.â She asked. She had never heard of such a rule that she must be escorted in broad daylight. âShe said, âWould not want a fate befall twice.â What did she mean?â Eraena added. Her parents exchanged a look, and the princess waited for an answer.Â
âNothing, she meant absolutely nothing,â Rhaenyra said. Eraenaâs eyes flew to her hands, playing with her rings. She nodded and turned to her sisters. âYou must tell us about your ventures warding in Driftmark. It seems that Rhaena and I have scarce topics to discuss these past days,â Eraena said. Her sister nodded. I was hoping you two would be the ones to tell stories. It was dreadfully lonely there in Driftmark.âÂ
âOh, you should tell her about Arthur,â Rhaena said in excitement, and as if it were a reflex, Eraenaâs cheeks pinked, and Jacaerys joined in their conversation as he heard an unfamiliar name. âWhose this⊠Arthur?â He asked and made the girl roll her eyes, pushing him away. âNone of your concern, brother.âÂ
âMother, Eraenaâs hiding something from us,â he tattled, and Eraena could not help herself but pinch his arm once more. âHush!â she whispered harshly. âLeave your sister alone, Jacaerys; she is entitled to keep some secrets to herself.â Eraena gave her brother a smug look before returning her gaze to the two. âTonight, let us exchange our stories without bother,â she said, and the two nodded eagerly.Â
It was high night when Eraena made quiet steps to her sisterâs chambers, a candle in her hand. There was a storm brewing, and Eraena jumped with every clap of thunder. She was finally nearing the room when a gust of wind blew out the candle she held. Eraena was in the dark; the moon and stars gave no light to guide her way. The princess squinted her eyes and prayed she would not trip. Another clap of lightning, and the girl jumped with a squeak of shock. Her heart was beating violently in her chest. Finally, she found her way to her sisterâs room. âGods, you took so long! We thought someone had caught you!â Baela said and pulled her in. âNow, tell me all there is on this⊠Arthur,â she said and made Eraena sit atop the feathered bed.Â
She and Rhaena exchanged knowing looks. âI met him a year ago when he had started his training to be a knight in Dragonstone.â The girl started, and Baela nodded. âI was in the gardens, picking flowers for our rooms, and he was trying to hide from the wrath of his commanding officer.â Eraena tried to control the smile rising on her lips as she recalled the day. âSo he hid behind me as Ser Samuel tried to find him. For an hour, he stayed crutched down behind me, moving where I had moved and us just talking and jesting.â Baela and Rhaena watched as the obsidian eyes of their sister twinkled, and the blush grew on her cheeks. âHeâs kind, funny, and oh gods, heâs so tall and⊠dashing,â Eraena said, struggling to paint a clear picture of the soon-to-be knight. âOh, gods, you love him!â Baela exclaimed, making Rhaena laugh. Eraena scoffed. âI do not! Iâ I like him, but I do not believe I love him. Not yet, at least,â she mumbled the last part, but it was heard clearly by the two.
When the following morning came, it was the day of the trial. The princess stared at herself in the mirror as a handmaid readied her. Womanhood had taken its full effect on her. Eraena's gaze paused on her thighs, and she could not help but frown. Never in her life had she the gap between her thighs that she saw most women had. There was a small pouch above her sex that Eraena had tried hard to be rid of. Her hips flared at what she found at an alarming and annoying rate; most of her dresses had clung to her waist but had difficulty conforming to the princessâ hips. Eraenaâs gaze moved to her chest. Her Mother used to lovingly tease the girl about the ampleness of it until she thankfully stopped as she realized Eraena had grown quite conscious about it.Â
The princess took in a deep breath and moved to wear her dressâa black gown with gold laces and an embroidery of a dragon that she had made herself. Her fingers brushed the gold lace on the square neckline, teasing a hint of her bosom. âYou outdid yourself on the design, princess,â Lyn, her handmaid, complimented, making the princess smile, and a âthank youâ escaped her pink lips. âWhat of your hair?â Lyn inquired. âA few braids, at the top, and can you make use of the ruby clips Father had recently given me?â Ereana waited patiently as Lyn did her hair, a book finding itself in her hands. Â
She walked with Jacaerys to the throne room, their parents behind them. âDo you not think you are a tad overdressed?â Jacaerys asked his sister. Eyeing the gown she had fashioned. Eraena, like their mother, wore expensive gowns. The finest silk, the purest of cotton, the most lustrous pearls, the most brilliant jewels, and the most shining gold are what she and her mother often wore. Jacaerys had no reservations before; however, now, it made him nervous to enter the throne room with his sister fashioning such a dress, especially with such a neckline and bodice conforming to her body. âExcuse me?â Eraena asked in disbelief, almost offended.Â
âGood luck, son,â Rhaenyra jested as she passed her twins. Daemon chuckled and eyed the two, ready to argue once more. âThere is no such thing as overdressed Jacaerys,â she says, and her brother struggles to look her in the eye. âWomen have little to express themselves, brother. You must understand that the way I dress is my way to show my support to this family since I have given little say in this matter, and I know my opinion would not be valued as much as a man's; this is the only way I can take my stand.â Eraena explained, and Jace nodded, but she could still see the reservation in her brotherâs copper eyes.Â
âI just,â he trailed off. âJust what?â Eraena asked. âI just wished you could have worn a dress that had more to cover,â He said, making the princess narrow her eyes, âMother wore dresses like these when she was my age; some of my dresses were hers,â She said. âYes, but our uncles are there,â he tried to defend. âSo?â Eraena asked incredulously. Jacaerys sighed and ran a hand through his face. âNever mind, you look lovely, sister. Letâs go,â he gave up, and Eraena conceded in the meantime, knowing their family was waiting for the both of them.Â
When they entered the room, they hurriedly made their way to stand behind their mother. âWho won this time?â Their Father asked, âI did,â Eraena said with a triumphant smirk, and Jacaerys shook his head. The smirk on the princessâ lips was soon wiped when she noticed three eyes on her. âYour uncles are looking at you,â Rhaena said lowly. âI know,â Eraena replied but still did not turn to the two. âI feel underdressed standing next to you,â Baela said, and Eraena rolled her eyes as she heard Jacaerys snort. âI told you,â he said with a prideful tone. âHush,â She grumbled and looked down at her dress with a frown. She was not overdressed; she thought she wore an appropriate outfit for such an occasion. She would not let her brother sway her mind when it came to her fashion choices.Â
The girlâs attention was caught when she heard the door of the throne room open whilst her Mother spoke on behalf of her younger brother. âKing Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.â The king took a while to sit on his throne, aching and wheezing with each step.Â
âI must... admit... my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is Princess Rhaenys.â All eyes turned to the Queen who never was. âIndeed, Your Grace. It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark passes through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him.â The look of pure shock and outrage could be seen in the face of Vaemond. Eraena turned to the Queen and her father, the hand who had a look of surpassed irritation. Once more, she caught Aemondâs eye and once again, the princess quickly looked away.Â
âAs a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luc, to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.â Eraena turned to gaze at the floor and smiled at her sibling's proposals, but mainly her lack thereof. Rhaenyra had promised her that they would not arrange a marriage for her, that she was free to choose for herself.Â
âWell... the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.â The king announced. Eraena let out a breath of relief. However, that relief was short-lived as Vaemond spoke once more.Â
âYou break the law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.â Vaemond gritted out.
âAllow it"? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond. The king said. âThat is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine. You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of thisâŠâ Vaemond stopped himself; Eraena was chewing on her lip, knowing that this would not end well.Â
âSay it,â she heard her Father challenge. Her children... are bastards!â Vaemond yelled, and the hall emitted silent chatter. Eraena took in a deep breath but did not let herself waver, holding her pretty head high. âShe⊠is... a whÎżre!â Vaemond yelled another treasonous phrase once more, and the young princessâ dark eyes widened, not believing that he would scream that out loud and in front of the king, no less.Â
âI... will have your tongue for that.â The king said and took out his dagger. Before anyone could blink, Daemon had sliced his sword through Vaemondâs head. The sound of blood gushing out and the thud of a body echoed through the room. Eraena could not help but gasp and turn to her brother, who quickly held her head to face away from the grotesque scene. âThere, he can keep his tongue,â Daemon said. The king groaned and fell onto the throne, creating commotion throughout the room. âReturn to your chambers, now.â Their Mother urged, and Eraena was happy to oblige.Â
âGods, Iâ Whaâ gods,â she could not even comprehend what had happened. The five of them were in Eraenaâs chambers. All of them were seated, whether it was atop her feathered bed, a sofa, or a settee near the fire, but the girl was pacing and trying to erase the image of Vaemondâs severed head upon the bloodied floor.Â
âI forgot how violent father was,â Baela said, and Rhaena nodded. âHe had mellowed down these past few years, though it is nice to see that the fire in him did not die down.â Eraena looked at her sister strangely, âWhat?â Rhaena asked. âHe just killed a man, grandsireâs brother.â She breathed out, âHe was coming for Lucâs inheritance. He called us bastards, our Mother a whore.â Jacaerys said. âStill! He did not deserve to die in such a way,â She said in remorse. âHe had it coming,â Jacaerys shrugged, and Eraena shook her head. âGods, please tell me you will be more levelheaded when you are king.â She said and took a seat next to Rhaena on the settee.Â
âYou hold too much empathy, sister. Believe me, if the roles were reversed, Vaemond would have cackled to see Daemonâs head roll on the floor.â Eraena huffed and kept her thoughts to herself for the moment.Â
The day progressed and Eraena was left alone in her room, her sibling attending to other business in regard to their newly formed betrothals. Eraena walked to the dining hall alone, and when the doors opened, almost everyone was present. âAh, there you are!â Her Father said and stood up to greet her. Eraena kissed his cheek as well as her Motherâs before she was escorted to her seat in between Jace and Aegon.Â
The king was carried into the room and was seated at the head of the table, she noted the look of surprise her brothers tried to hide upon seeing the state grandsire in up-close. âHow good it is to see you all tonight⊠together.â The king panted and looked over the table. âPrayer before we begin?â The queen asked her husband, who nodded. As the queen began her prayer, plenty of pairs of eyes wandered around the table. Eyeing each other curiously. Eraena noted, Aemond, however, he kept his eye closed and hands folded in front of him.Â
âThis is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luc will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena. Further strengthening the bond between our houses.â The king announced. Eyes went to the newly betrothed couples. Rhaena and Luc shared a look, both of them having a smile on their faces, as well as Jacaerys and Baela had smiles on their faces. âAnd what of you, sweet niece? No betrothals as of yet?â He asked and took a sip of his wine. âNone, uncle,â Eraena said plainly. Aegon hummed and turned his attention to her brother.Â
âYou do know how the act is done, I assume?â Aegon asked Jacaerys. âAt least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that,â From the side of her eye, she could see Jaceâs nostrils falling and his jaw tightening. âYou can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my sister and my betrothed.â Jace had said. Aegon let out a breath and turned to Eraena with a pompous smirk on his face. âHeâs a virgin, Iâm quite sure of it,â he whispered the words that were only for her to hear. She gave no reaction and instead turned her head to look at her parents.Â
âIt both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table.â The king said, âThe faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.â Eraena set her cup down, and Aemond tapped his finger on the table. The king took off his gold mask, revealing half of his face had decayed and, like his son, an eye was missing from him.Â
âMy own face is no longer a handsome one⊠if indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a kingâŠâ Viserys trailed off. âBut your father.â He said and turned to his children, âYour brother,â he turned to Daemon. âYour husband,â he said to the queen. âAnd your grandsire.â He finished turning to the five cousins. âWho may not, it seemsâŠwalk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts.â Eraena could not help as her gaze fluttered over to Aemond. A steely look in his eye was focused upon his clasped hands.
Toasts from each side of the family brought me a sense of an alluring, yet unnatural sense of peace. Maybe this family could work. Eraena thought to herself, a fantasy that was beginning until she saw Aegon standing up and making his way to a chalice near Baela. âI regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.â Eraena bit her lip, praying to the gods her brother would not be baited so easily; alas, she was not heard.Â
Jacaerys slammed his fist on the table. Plates and silverware cluttered with noise. Aegon found his way back to his seat and leaned closer to the princess, the two of them waiting for Jacaerysâ outburst. Eraena shot a disgusted look toward her elder uncle, who only shrugged, âIt was getting dreadfully boring and sappy, dear Eraena; you could not blame me.â he said. âI think I could,â she whispered harshly.Â
Aemond then rose, and Eraena looked between the two princes, who stared each other down. âPrepare for it to grow interesting, sweet niece,â Aegon smirked. A tense silence filled the table, the two boys still standing. Jace reached over and playfully punched their uncleâs arm, lips pursed together. âTo Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth.â Jacaerys said. Eraena tried not to roll her eyes at the obvious lie.Â
âAnd as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your familyâs good health, dear uncles.â Jace raised his glass, a smile on his face that she knew all too well to be teasing and insincere. Her gaze turned to Aegon, who seemed to be unamused by Jaceâs speech. âTo you as well,â Aegon said. I caught the eyes of Luc and Rhaena, who smiled at her with amusement. âI would like to toast Baela and Rhaena. Theyâll be married soon. It isnât so bad. Mostly, he just ignores you⊠except sometimes when heâs drunk.âÂ
Eraena let out a bubbling laugh along with her Father, who chuckled, and her mother quickly chastised the both of them. She quickly covered her mouth when she noticed the stoic look on the otherâs faces. âGood,â Otto said to her granddaughter with a smile. Ever since childhood, Eraena thought hard about the words Helaena would mumble. Words that everyone thought were ludicrous and mad, she found with deeper meaning. Helaena is seen to be mad, though Eraena always sees it as misunderstood; she holds wisdom and knowledge that no other at the table possesses.Â
âLet us have some music,â the king instructed. Jace made his way to stand up once more and went to Helaena, inviting the girl to dance. Eraena smiled against my cup when she saw the surprised yet excited look on the silver princessâ face. Aegon looked disbelieved and shared a look with his brother. Eraena took Jacearysâ seat and sat next to her siblings. For a moment, their family was the picture of unity. Smiles and laughs were shared along the table. However, the king grew in pain and was carried out of the hall immediately.Â
As the king left, a roasted pig arrived and was placed directly in front of Aemond. Eraena saw the smirk on Lucâs face, trying not to laugh out loud. âLucerys,â she whispered harshly at her younger brother. Eraenaâs heart quickened, and she quickly turned to Aemond, who had his jaw clenched. The one-eyed prince punched his fist on the table, standing up at the same time. It caught everyoneâs attention. Even the music had stopped. Aemond raised his glass. His eye had never left Lucerys. âFinal tribute,â he announced, and the girl bit her lip, knowing this would not end well. âTo the health of my nephews and niece. Jace⊠Luc⊠Joffery and sweet Eraena.â The girl rested her gaze on Aemond, âEach of them comely, wiseâŠâ the prince trailed off, his gaze flickering to Eraena, who was pleading with her eyes. Yet, of course, she was ignored. âStrong,â he finished.Â
Eraena let out a defeated breath. âAemond,â the queen warned but was ignored by the prince. âCome. Let us drain our cups to these fourâŠâ Aegon raised his chalice. âStrongs,â Aemond finished. âI dare you to say that again.â Jacaerys challenged. âWhy? âtwas only a compliment,â Aemond replied. âDo you not think yourself strong?â He added. Jacaerys threw a punch, and Lucerys made his way to his brother but was blocked by Aegon. Who grabbed the boy and bashed his head on the table near where Eraena was sitting. She stared wide-eyed and immediately slammed her foot down on Aegons for him to release her younger brother. âThat is enough!â The queen yelled, but none seemed to hear her. Lucerysâ head was still pinned down, and Aegon was staring at Eraena with an amused smirk on his lips.Â
âYouâd have to try harder than that, Eraena,â He said, and the princessâ vision reddened; she quickly stood up and used her knee to maim his sex. Finally, he let Lucerys go, falling on the floor, clutching his cock in pain. âGood,â she heard Father say in her ancient tongue with a smirk, but her Mother looked at her in disbelief. Aemond effortlessly pushed Jacaerys to the floor, a smirk on his face. The princeâs eye was quick to find obsidian ones who had moved to the side of the room, a triumphant smirk on his lips. It took Baela and Rhaena to hold her down and not join in to help her brothers. Jace quickly stood up and charged forward, but a guard stopped him and Lucerys.Â
The guard had let go of his hold on Jace, and it would seem that Jacaerys would have pounced on their uncle if it werenât for Daemon, who had placed himself in the middle of the two. âWait,â he said and raised a finger up, staring Jacaerys down until the prince moved backward and moved to where his siblings stood. âGo to your quarters.â Their Mother commanded. âAll of you, go. Now.â She ordered. Eraena was the last of her siblings to leave; she could hear faint footsteps behind her and saw Aemond and her father walking behind the five of them. Baela and Raenaâs chambers were the nearest to the dining hall. The two had left the awkward convoy in the halls quickly. âJacaerys, Eraena, your Motherâs chambers, now.âÂ
The girlâs lip found home between her teeth as she walked to her motherâs chambers, her head hung low. How hypocritical was she? She had frowned upon her fatherâs violent actions toward Vaemond, yet she was all but ready to join in on the fight. Yet, in her defense, she could not just sit there and let Aegon hurt her younger brother; the prince had deserved his cock to be maimed. âI simply do not know what to do with you two anymore!â Rhaenyra exclaimed with a disappointed sigh. âJacaerys, why must you be baited so quickly?â She asked. âShe called us bastards, Mother!â âBut you should not give them a defensive reaction; it only makes you look guilty.â
Eraena scoffed, making her Mother turn to her with a raised brow. âMother, look at us,â she said, and Jacaerys made his way to stand beside her. âDo not get me started with you. Joining in the fights of boys!â She exclaimed and paced around, playing with her rings once more. âI was only defending my brother,â Eraena explained. âThat is no place for you, Eraena!â The younger princess held back her tongue, not wanting to say anything out of turn or offense. She caught her Fatherâs eyes, pleading that he would come to their aid; he sighed and walked closer to their Mother. âIt was a childish fight, Nyra, you should be at ease that your children know how to defend themselves.âÂ
âThe Hightowers are at an outrage! They will use this spectacle as another reason to keep the crown!â She whispered harshly. âYou two will apologize to your uncles, Eraena, you will apologize to Aegon, and you Jacearys will apologize to Aemond.â Eraena stared in shock. âI will do no such thing,â she said and stepped forward, âEraena,â Jace warned. âIâm sorry, Mother, but I will not apologize for defending my brother from that⊠drunken creature and his violent brother! Nor should Jacearys apologize for defending our honor.âÂ
âIt does not matter; we must take the high road,â Rhaenyra said decisively. âTell me, Mother, when you were our age, and if you were put in our position, would you apologize?â Eraena questioned and for the first time in a while, she saw my mother without an answer. Rhaenyra turned to her husband, who had an amused smirk on his lips. âAnswer the question, dear,â Rhaenyra sighed and paced. âYou two, out. Jacaerys, escort your sister back to her chambers.âÂ
Jace and Eraena exited the chambers and walked silently back to the girlâs quarters. They were nearing the wing of her chambers when they saw a figure seemingly waiting for someone. âAh, Lord and Lady Strong,â Aemond taunted once more with a smirk on his lips. Eraenaâs hold on Jacaerysâ arm tightened. Jacaerys turned to his sister, who implored with her eyes for him to ignore the sulking figure in the halls. âHow nice of you to escort your sister to her chambers,â Aemond said, and Eraena licked her lips, avoiding the princeâs gaze. âI should think it necessary, especially with the talk we hear of a promiscuous princess residing in Dragonstone.â Eraena stiffened at his words. Promiscuous? The word seemed like poison dripping from his lips. âWe are not aware of such things, Prince Aemond. It is best not to listen to whispers of vipers,â Jacaerys said, and the two walked on. Eraena frowned at their uncleâs words. âIgnore him,â Jacaerys said as he saw the furrowed brows of his sister. âGood night, brother,â Eraena sighed and placed a kiss on her brotherâs cheek before stepping into her room. She was not promiscuous, not at all!
#aemond fanfiction#house of the dragon#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#hotd aemond#aemond modern au#prince aemond#aemond x strong reader#prince aemond x reader#prince aemond fic#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond x you#hotd fandom#aemond targaryen smut#aemond smut#house strong#hotd smut#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#house of the dragon fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x niece reader#targcest#velaryon oc
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if ur still taking requests, could you do r!companions reacting to when sole introduces them (maybe to like a settler or something) as their husband/wife for the first time :0?
Romanced! FO4 Companions React to Sole Referring to Them as Husband/Wife for the First Time
This is so precious! It makes me wonder what weddings in the wasteland are like đ€
Anyways, let me know if you wanna see anyone else for this! :)
(also, sorry for being gone for a thousand years, love you guys for sticking around <3)
I hope you love it!Â
Cait:
Not much had changed after they'd said their vows.
It was a strange practice in this sort of reality, anyhow. Who in their right mind would be off fiddling with the thought of marriage when most folks were struggling on scraped hands and knees just to get by?
Sole, apparently.
Wouldn't be the first time they'd concerned themselves with something so unimportant and hairbrained in their new reality. Damn pre-war mentality.
But she'd humored them. They didn't do a whole ceremony, didn't have a priest or a cake, or even a dress. No, it was just each other and a few words, a couple of promises that she would never admit had... well, had choked her up, somewhat.
Sole's always been too sentimental for they're own good. And for my own good too, apparently.
Like she'd thought before the 'ceremony,' though, nothin' was all that different after the fact. Traveling together, watching each other's backs, sleepin' at Sole's place on the same shoddy mattress...
She didn't mind that, though. Nothinâ had to change for Cait to know that she was truly happy for the first time that she could remember.
What had shaken her, though, was when they'd met a couple settlers that had recently moved to Sanctuary when they stopped by for a visit. That, too, had been normal. At first.
Preston gave them his usual too-long to-do list, Codsworth told them he'd been keeping the hubflowers in the front yard nice and tidy, Sturges showed off the new paint-job on the power armor Sole had gifted him a while back. When they ran into those new folks, though, when that word 'wife' left her lover's lips, Cait had physically reeled back like she was dodging a blow.
Sole's look after the interaction was full of concern, of uncertainty. It made Cait's chest ache.
"Jus' unused to it, is all." She'd told them as reassuringly as she could manage, her fingers moving over Sole's shoulders to lace together at the base of their neck. "It'll come with time, love."
"Good," They said, their huff of relief only slightly exaggerated. "But if it doesn't, I'm warning you now, I might just have to marry you again."
Cait chuckled at that.
"And next time, I'm not letting you forgo the ceremony."
"No!" Cait groaned playfully.
"Nor the guests, or the dress, and those sappy vows will be read for everyone to hear--"
"Enough, you little shite. Go on, then. Call me wife at the end of ev'ry sentence, jus' don't make me go through all that."
Sole giggled in return, their own hands finding purchase at Cait's hips and pulling her close.
"Though..." The redhead continued, with a mischievous glint in her bright eyes. "I, myself, wouldn't mind a second honeymoon."
Curie:
"Aw, mon cheri! Let me try, let me do it, too!"
Sole's grin was contagious as they motioned for their adorable wife to continue with her⊠well, unnecessary, (but Sole would never tell her that) introduction.
"Zhis is mon mari/Ă©pouse. We are just married, you see?"
The Diamond city bar-goer nodded politely to them, giving Sole an amused look that wasn't caught by the over-excited synth.
"Congratulations, you two look very happy."
Curie squeezed her hand all the tighter around Sole's, and she looked simply fit to burst with joy at the strangerâs words.
"We are. 'Appier zhan I could've dreamed." Her eyes sparkled as she looked fondly to her Sole, âWe are so lucky to âave found each other.âÂ
âItâs trueâŠâ Sole echoed, the bargoer all but vanishing from the coupleâs attention as they became lost in each other again.Â
âMaybe I should just leave you two be, for now. Seems like youâre still in that honeymoon phase, to me.âÂ
âThat's, ahâŠâ Soleâs words dissolved into a chuckle, as Curie turned away with a blush. âThatâs also probably true. It was lovely meeting you, though!âÂ
Their new acquaintance waved a hand as he headed towards the bar once more, shaking his head with a grin as he noticed the way the pair went right back to existing in their own, sweet world. It was refreshing, he thought, to see two people so happy, so in love, in a world like this one.Â
Danse:
Heâd tried to introduce himself, at the start, to these friends of Soleâs, but⊠Heâd slipped up, as he often does.Â
Danse. My name is Danse. Nothing precedes that, Iâm⊠not a Paladin anymore.Â
Heâd never been without a title before, not since he joined the Brotherhood all those years ago, and his name still felt so naked without it, like it was missing something so integral. As usual, however, Sole had saved him. Theyâd noticed, even before he did, that he was about to err, and thankfully cut him off beforehand, but thenâŠÂ
Heâd almost forgotten. He didnât know how he could forget. The day he and Sole vowed to spend the remainder of their lives together had been one of the best of his life, but their past weeks were filled with the rest of the days upon that list⊠They hadnât been away from each otherâs sides, hadnât really met anyone new, so it was almost uncanny when he heard the wordâ the title leave their lips.Â
Iâve never been without a titleâŠ
Unwittingly, Danse found himself puffing up at the sound of it, much like he had when he was first called âPaladinâ. He grinned and stood straight and proud, nodding decisively at the sound of the word husband leaving his partnerâs lips. His spouseâs lips.Â
Danse had never planned for an outcome like this, never thought it would be possible to dedicate the time, energy, emotional attention and knowhow he needed to be involved in a lifelong, committed relationship, but then again, Sole had made many things possible that heâd never known would be in store for him. He couldnât imagine his life any other way now, even with the severe deviation from his original plan for himself, and though, at first, he felt like the entire situation was drastically more than unideal, he didnât know how he ever managed to consider himself truly happy without Sole by his side. They filled the immense chasm of hurt that was drilled through him the day he lost his identity, the day he was no longer a part of the cause that heâd dedicated his everything to, but if they were to be taken from him? Gone from his life for one reason or another? He knew not even the Brotherhood could fill the crippling hole they would leave in their wake.
This new title, the new responsibility to be there for his counterpart, through thick and thin, sickness, health, all that the wasteland would throw at them, and everything in between, as far as Danse was concerned, it was the most worthwhile endeavor heâd ever taken on, and he knew he would do everything in his power to never let them down. No matter what it took, heâd strive to be worthy of that title bestowed upon him by the one he loves and respects more than any other.
Deacon:
Deacon didnât think heâd ever be back here again⊠Not that he wasnât absolutely thrilled to be Soleâs partner, their spouse, but⊠did he really deserve that title? He sure as hell didnât the first time, and now, though heâs definitely less of a bigot, he still canât wrap his head around the idea of Sole being happy with him, wanting him. As their husband.Â
ShitâŠÂ
Heâd have to say something at some point, have to respond, have to smile and nod and shake hands and allow himself to be introduced like this...
Yikes.Â
It was a familiar feeling, but in a horrible, anxiety-inducing sort of way. He didnât want anything more than he wanted to be Soleâs husband, heâd been the one to propose after all, but introducing him like this? Was that safe? Was it necessary?Â
The spy bit his lip, his body visibly stiffening up at the words leaving Soleâs lips, but the worst part? The worst part was that jump in his gut at the sound of it. At first he thought it was the discomfort, with a healthy sprinkling of fear and just a pinch of panic, but it wasnât the cold shock that those emotions tended to elicit, no, this was sort of⊠warm? An excited sort of anxiousness, an enthusiastic leap within himself, not the uncomfortable churn heâd been expecting.Â
Maybe I can be used to this again. Like the first time.
Despite himself, despite the momentary thousand-yard stare accompanied by a half-open mouth, Deacon recovered rather rapidly, and even found himself smiling. His eyes crinkled up beneath his iconic shades and he turned to look over to his love, his spouse, and his teeth broke through the threshold of his lips into a broad grin.Â
âWhew, could get used to that.â He whispered with a wink and Sole had to bite their lips to keep from smiling too big.Â
Goddamn, I donât deserve them.
âWell, you heard the boss. Soleâs husband. Yeah⊠Pleased to meet and shake.âÂ
But shit⊠I really could get used to this again. That much is true.Â
Hancock:
âFuck, sunshine, say it again for me, will ya?âÂ
Hancock immediately turned to face them at the sound of it, their hand in his proving not to be nearly enough contact to sate his need for his new spouse. He separated their fingers as that glorious title of his left their lips once more, as their mischievous eyes met his, opting to instead wrap both of his wiry arms around them, pulling his partner close while completely disregarding the traveling merchant in front of them. Theyâd get back to their purchase in a moment, but first⊠Hancock leaned forward, pressing his lips to his partnerâs with a fervor that rivaled that of their kiss upon the altar.Â
How can anyone expect me to hold back when theyâre lookinâ at me like that? When they call me their âhusband.âÂ
The ghoul felt himself shudder, a grin spreading from his lips, infecting theirs in turn as he finally managed to pull away.Â
âMmm, yeah, damn straight.âÂ
Who wouldâve ever thought?Â
The esteemed bachelor, infamous junkie, proclaimer of every kinda freedom, and the Mayor of the city of sin and mirth⊠Married. And he couldnât be more proud of it, more overjoyed at the prospect of spending his life with the one he loves, dedicating himself to one person. Sure, he never thought heâd see the day. But that didnât change a damn thing.Â
âYeah, Soleâs husband speaking here. Pleased to make your acquaintance.â
MacCready:
Maybe he should feel guilty, maybe the sound should make him sad, should douse him in memories of his past, in a future that heâd hoped for, but never came to be. A future with another person, another possibility for his life⊠But when Sole called him their husband for the first time, in front of all these people at the bar, still dressed in their glorious, dare he say sexy, wedding clothes⊠God, the ex-merc couldnât quit grinning.Â
It felt⊠strange, sure, to be called husband again, but damn, it felt good, too. It was a reminder that he still could be happy, it was proof that there are second chances, even in a world as cruel as this one. Even for both of them, who came from broken homes, from pasts filled with loss and hardship, from such different upbringings, there was still hope.Â
And so, he smiled. And he let himself smile.Â
Heâd dealt with the guilt already, since the moment he felt affection for his partner rising to the surface. From that first awkward kiss, their strangely sad first time together, to his first terrifying declaration of his love, heâd felt that guilt simmering under the surface, waiting to boil over and burn him from the inside out, make him hurt all over again, make moving on impossible, but⊠Even though it had always been there, itâs grown⊠weaker. Soleâs reciprocation, their affirmation, their shared feelings of wrongfulness that linger behind every touch, every feeling of fondness, of love⊠The two of them were two sides of the same damn coin, broken pieces that, by some miracle, could fit together to make each other whole.Â
That, and he knew what Lucy and Nate/Nora would want. Their late spouses loved them both, and they would want them both to be happy now, not wallow away their days alone in grief and guilt.Â
And now, MacCready could smile. And damn, did he do so. It was embarrassingly toothy, it scrunched his eyes and brought tears to them. Heâd cried when he saw them at the wedding, and his eyes have hardly been dry since the ceremony earlier that day, and even as the pair collected their drinks from the bar top, he couldnât keep his eyes off his partner. His spouse.Â
It was strange to feel like this again, to be back in this situation, back to this point in life, just with another person, but if it was with Sole, MacCready could truly be happy again, if it was with them⊠he didnât want to be anywhere else.
Nick:
It was so difficult to look away, to stop the smile from spreading too far across his synthetic lips, to pull his hand away from Soleâs in order to greet this stranger, to act as though it were normal for them to refer to him in that way. It shouldnât be strange, with how long theyâve been together, how long theyâve been itching to use those titles for one another, but it still sent a shock through him. The warmness spread through his chest in such a way he didnât know was even possible. Nothing could have ruined the moment that that word left his incredible partnerâs lips, not even the way the strangerâs eyes were widened, their mouth drawn to a thin line in surprise and just a hint of revulsion. Nick couldnât care less.Â
Keeping his good hand firmly clasped with Soleâs, he extended his skeletal one out for them to consider, finally forcing himself to look away from Soleâs sweet, glowing expression to meet the otherâs judgemental gaze. If heâd cared even in the slightest, he mightâve snorted and made some remark, but this didnât matter at all. The approval of some schmuck in the wilds of the Commonwealth wasnât even remotely something Nick desired, and there was no way in hell heâd let something like this ruin even a fraction of his elation at finally becoming Soleâs husband.Â
âGood to meet ya.â He said with an insultingly broad grin as their eyes locked to his metal hand, their own making no move to embrace his in the customary greeting.
âUsually itâs polite," Nick began, with just a hint of salt, "When someone extends a hand, to shake it.â
That seemed to pull the stranger from their thoughts, and tentatively, they reached out and gave a small shake before quickly pulling away.Â
âThere we go, thatâs it.â Nick let his skeletal hand fall back to his side and felt Sole give his other a tight squeeze in comfort. âAnd just in case you didnât catch it, itâs Nick. Valentine. Detective extraordinaire, and Soleâs husband.âÂ
A sweet sound met his ears as Sole chuckled beside him, their grin scrunching their eyes as they gave their husband that look, the one that said it all, the one heâd never grow tired of seeing. The amusement at his words, and that genuine affection for him behind it all, god, itâs what Nick lived for.
Piper:
âAw, Blue! It sounds so good when you say it!â The reporterâs eyes lit up as Sole introduced her to the bartender, and her hand squeezed their arm all the tighter. Sheâs been waiting, what seems like forever, to hear those words leave her partnerâs lips. Now, it was even better than sheâd imagined. She gazed lovingly in Soleâs direction, as they patiently waited for her to turn her attention to the man across the counter.
âRight! Hi, yes, yeah. Iâm their wife. Nice to meet you.â She grinned at the man as a look of good-humored exasperation passed over his features. At his responseâs lack of enthusiasm, Piper leaned forward, nearly separating her arm from Soleâs, and brought her free hand to the side of her mouth, whispering to him nearly loud enough for the entire room to hear.
âWe just got married.â
âI couldnât have guessed.â He said, deadpan, with the slightest indication of a grin crinkling his eyes.Â
âHereâs your key, you two. Enjoy.âÂ
Sole thanked the man as Piper enthusiastically hauled them towards the stairs up to their rented room. They followed along behind the giggling reporter, their grin rivaling her own as the pair stumbled up the wooden steps excitedly. With Piper, it certainly was bound to be an eventful honeymoon. But Sole already knew that when they married her, and who were they kidding? They wouldn't have it any other way.
Preston:
Preston just cannot quit staring. He hardly even hears what the other minutemen are saying to him and his new spouse, still their General and Lieutenant. It was rather uncharacteristic of him to be paying so little attention, but how can he help it? It was their wedding day, and Sole looked more incredible than heâd ever seen them, which was saying a whole hell of a lot for his near-perfect partner; not to mention the way theyâd practically ordered him to refrain from thinking of work for the whole day.Â
Heâd thought it would be harder to do so, his overzealous work ethic being the brunt of many a joke amongst the other minutemen and Soleâs many friends, and yet⊠Today, Preston finds it much easier than ever before to focus on nothing but them.Â
Sole. In all their perfect glory, standing by his side, fingers locked between his, a persistent and glorious grin spread across their lips as they greeted the many guests that attended the ceremony.Â
As an unfamiliar couple approached the pair, Preston still remained utterly entranced by his love, their polite voice, the way the soft glow of the slowly setting sun highlighted every perfect feature, the feel of their hand in his, their shoulder pressing comfortingly against his own.Â
When their introduction leaves Sole's lips, heâs pulled back to reality.Â
âMy husband,â theyâd said. Thatâs⊠Thatâs me.Â
Preston blinked as his cheeks swelled from the pressure of his humongous grin.Â
I will never get tired of that. He decided in less than an instant. In fact, as the night goes on, into the next few weeks of their early marriage, and all the years after, he tries to refer to them by their own spously title as often as is appropriate, and glows with pride and appreciation each time they do the same.
X6-88:
It wasn't proper, but for once in the courser's life, he couldn't be bothered to care.
Sole was his Director, and if anyone in the Institute took issue with their word, with their choices when it came to their own personal life, they could bring it up to him. He'd love to see how that plays out.
For now though, X6 allowed himself the unusual pleasure of being unbothered by it. Dr. Ayo could look as appalled as he wanted, Dr. Volkert could keep blushing with barely-checked rage up to his ear tips, and the rest of X6âs fellow coursers could continue with their stony glares.
Though he wouldn't admit it, X6 actually withheld a crooked grin at the way some of the synths looked at him with such awe. He felt their glares, heard their whispers, saw the ways their fists clenched, but it was peripheral at best. Sole took center stage of his attentions on this day, and the intensity of a courser's attention was unmatched.
He felt their hand brushing his arm, his shoulder, his waist, he heard their voice say his name, introduce him with that hefty title he never once would've considered for himself if not for them, and he saw their face, their infectious grin. If they were aware of the animosity in the air surrounding them, Sole gave no indication.
And nor should they.
They had nothing to be ashamed of. One day, in the not-too-distant past, he might not have held that same opinion. Today though, he couldn't fathom 'shame,' and 'Sole' existing on the same plane. He was lucky to have them. Being with them was a greater honor and opportunity than the synth could have previously imagined possible for himself. He only hoped, in such an earnest, sentimental way that it felt as though he'd left his own body, that they felt similar sentiments at being with him.
If their expression, their words, their sincere vows were anything to go off of though, X6 would say that his hope was well-founded.
#fallout#fallout companions#fallout companions react#fallout companions reacts#fallout companions reactions#fallout 4#fallout 4 companions#fallout 4 companions reacts#fallout 4 companions reactions#fo4#fo4 companions#cait fo4#curie fo4#danse fo4#paladin danse#deacon fo4#john hancock#fo4 hancock#maccready fo4#robert joseph maccready#nick valentine#fo4 nick valentine#piper wright#piper fo4#preston garvey#fo4 preston#x6 88#fo4 x6 88#sole#sole survivor
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Thank you for your service to the ghoul fucker community đ«Ąđ€
You mentioned that you have more headcanons for the Ghoul, can you share them with us? NSFW or SFW it is up to you
SFW Cooper Howard/The Ghoul Headcanons 2
(Follow-up to the SFW Prewar!Coop headcanons I posted here.)
I've said this before, but I firmly believe that this man doesn't sleep. Based on what we've seen about ghouls over the course of the franchise, I think that food, water, and sleep are basically optional; something that helps them feel and run better, but not things they can't survive without. With sleep comes vulnerability, both physical vulnerability and the vulnerability of being subjected to dreams. Cooper doesn't want to dream. His unconscious brain isn't nearly as good at shoving all the unpleasant things he doesn't want to think about down as his conscious brain is. The only true "sleep" he gets is when he's been knocked unconscious, whether that be by some enemy of the Wasteland or by one too many substances. He still will typically pick a spot to stop for 5-6 hours a night, put his feet up, get a little extra intoxicated. Sometimes he rests his eyes and feigns sleep when things feel especially calm.
He is a YAPPER! I've seen so many people theorize that for season 2 Lucy is gonna talk The Ghoul's ear off on their walk to New Vegas...I respectfully disagree. Have you ever met an old man? They never shut the fuck up at the best of times and this one has been without real companionship for so long; now that he's got an audience, he's never without something to say. I mean, the man was fancy waterboarding Lucy and standing there monologuing about some shit he read in the newspaper 200 years ago because he's lonely.
This man will absolutley start falling in love with you if you get ANY of his jokes or weird little references he makes to shit that hasn't existed in forever. Even if that's the first time he has positive feelings towards you, he's officially on that path. It would be a moment of genuine human connection, the kind he hasn't felt in so long. Even if it's innocuous, the poor thing is immediately gonna be a little obsessed with you.
Have fun if he DOES start falling in love with you, because initially it'll make him even more unpleasant than he usually is. He's confused at first, then he's annoyed by it when he realizes what he's feeling. He's gone this long without having to deal with that on top of everything else. Both emotions come with a hearty side of frustration and anger, as well as a general defensiveness you won't be able to wrap your brain around until his (reciprocated) feelings eventually come to light.
Marriage doesn't really exist in the same form he knew before, but if he was serious about you, he'd still wanna marry you. Depending on where you come from, whether you're a vault dweller or not, you might not even fully understand what he's asking when he proposes (which he would definitely still scrounge up a ring for, by the way; it wouldn't feel right to him if he didn't give you one). He takes it just as seriously as he took it the first time, and he's determined to be the husband he knows he's capable of being to you.
Not a headcanon so much as a musing, I suppose, but hear me out: what if the duster he wears is from the first person he ever cannibalized (or something similar)? Much to wonder about.
#cooper howard#the ghoul#cooper howard headcanons#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#ghoulcy#vaultghoul#fallout tv show#fallout prime#submission
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The Ghoul and Lucy MacLean as Modern Orpheus and Eurydice: A Fallout Meta
(art by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot)
Weâve all heard the Greek myth of Orpheus who ventures to the Underworld to bring his wife Eurydice back to life. Itâs one of the greatest tragic love stories that has been retold and passed down to us in different forms of media.
Isnât it interesting that Fallout begins with The End and ends with The Beginning? It refers to the bombs falling in the first episode, and the past being revealed in the last, but I believe it goes deeper than that. Itâs a direct reflection of Lucyâs character journey.
Lucyâs journey begins with the shattering of her perfect world. It's the end of her life as she has known it. The event that triggers her descent (in her case, ascent) is the raidersâ attack. Which significantly happens at her wedding. Lucy is stabbed by her husband who had snuck into her Vault with deception. Similarly, Eurydice is bitten by a snake at her wedding with Orpheus, which kills her and sends her to the Underworld.
Interestingly enough, if we think of Norm's words as Lucy walks down the aisle, the Ghoul is coded as a possible husband for Lucy. And it's only after she goes to the Underworld/Wasteland that we are introduced to the Ghoul.
In a post-nuclear world, hell would be on the surface and heaven under the ground. The Ghoul emerges from the underground like Lucy as if he's coming after her. (It's funny that three men welcome him as if he's Orpheus at the gates of the Underworld and they're Cerberus.)
After the tragic wedding, Lucy resides in the Underworld. (An important note here is that while we learn that the Wasteland isn't dead, it is perceived as an Underworld by the Vault dwellers.) Throughout her journey, there is one person who, by happenstance, is always on her trail.
In the final episode titled The End, we find some thematic and visual similarities with The Beginning. Lucy is again betrayed by a person she considers family. Also, the passage of time in both episodes (midday-sunset-night) is clearly marked by the change of colors in the sky.
Two significant scenes for Lucy happen during the sunset. As a symbol, the sunset stands for transition or even death. The world is changed for the night. It's both an end and a new beginning. It's a meeting between the day and the night. In both these scenes, Lucy agrees to share her journey with another person.
If we rewind back to the Ghoul's entrance in the scene, we see him catching Hank by surprise with his words. In fact, the Ghoul speaks a lot and almost enthralls his enemies with his power of speech/acting. It's reminiscent of Orpheus' gift of music which helps him tame the beasts.
Here begins the deviation from the original story. In the myth, Eurydice has no agency. Orpheus ventures into the Underworld, begs for her soul, and takes her on the journey back. Some modern critics point out she'd already forgotten him and wouldn't want to return back to life.
The Ghoul offers Lucy a clear choice between her staying with the dead (in this moment, they are surrounded by Max's unconscious body and her mother's remains, as well as the soldiers' corpses) and risking that she dies herself. Or going with him to learn more about the world.
Another important element in the myth, is the backward glance. Hades lets Eurydice leave the Underworld on condition that Orpheus doesn't look back at her until they make it out. As they near the exit, Orpheus turns back and Eurydice vanishes back in the Underworld forever.
In this case, the backward glance isn't a condition. Yet, in this scene, the Ghoul and Lucy's gazes don't meet at all! He has his back turned to her and the one time he turns around, she isn't looking at him. It shows their vulnerability but also their newfound mutual trust.
What follows is the scene that inspired this whole meta. The night has fallen. The Ghoul climbs up from a ruined building's dark exit alone. After a moment, Lucy emerges too. They have made it! And the Ghoul still isn't looking back at her. He leads and knows she'll follow him.
Take a look at this bit from A. S. Kline's translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book X, and look at the following frame:
"They took the upward path, through the still silence, steep and dark, shadowy with dense fog, drawing near to the threshold of the upper world."
A final note about Orpheus and Eurydice's names: Orpheus means "the darkness of the night", while Eurydice means "wide justice". Well, what can I say?
Looking back on my Lucy analysis, it's interesting that the final scene with them both emerging from underground marks the transition between Act 2 and Act 3, or Death (Transformation) and Emergence (Support). This would've been Eurydice's POV journey if Orpheus had succeeded.
#decided to post it here as well for safekeeping#vaultghoul#ghoulcy#cooper howard#lucy maclean#fallout prime#fallout meta
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No. Not again. Not you.
Yandere Cooper Howard/The Ghoul Ă Vaultie!R
Summary: The Ghoul of the wasteland had exepted the man he once was is dead. He isn't caring. Isn't loving. Isn't feeling. Friendship, companionship, partnership... love? Wasn't for him. Not anymore. But all that comes crashing down when he meets you... you brought something back from the dead.. though it isn't as 'good' as it used to be...
Warnings: yandere content, Cooper being controlling, Canon violence, death (not reader or Cooper), violence towards reader (by both strangers and a litte Cooper), flashbacks, and forced kissing.
You stumble around behind Cooper talking about the town you were about to come up apon, you were happy to babble away to him, and though he wouldn't always answer, he would always listen.
You liked traveling around, especially with Cooper; you were in a vault all your life, not by choice. But to be out of it was an amazing feeling, even if in the start Cooper didn't take your optimistic outlooks to kindly.
You remember how dumb he thought you were...
You'd just escaped your vault. And you were so confused...
You remember 'yesterday' you were baking a pie waiting for your husband to come home, when you heard a big bang, your husband rushed in took you. And you just passed out... you had always told him you didn't trust vault-tech or the people who were a part of it. But he didn't care, he was desperate.
When you woke up, the Vault was empty... quiet... bloodied... you stumbled around, trying to find something, someone... anyone... when you heard a whistle,
"Pphheeeww- looks like I've got a live one," a voice called out; turning around meeting the face of the goul... it shocked you at first your face contorting, but it wasn't so much fear as it was confusion... who is that? Had the war started? How long has it been? "If I were you I'd hope my pretty ass back into that ice block and let the world rot away,"
God, you remember him putting you through hell and back; no water or food, hot unforgiving sun, the fighting, crying, begging, and eventual acceptance.
"You think the people here will be friendly?" You babble as you reach for the canteen on his side; he let's you take it, moving his coat to the side for an easier reach. "Friendly?-" he laughs like you've told him the funniest joke he'd ever heard, "when is anyone out here friendly? What did it teach you? You need a reminder?" He smirks, turning to look at you, "Oh no thanks!" You yipp as you take a swig of water.
You and Cooper walk into the town, eyes all around you. Some curious, some cautious, other dangerous... most eyes not on you, but Cooper. The Ghoul. Most people would never know you were a Vault dweller, you'd exchanged the blue and yellow suit in for a teal top and brown loose pants and some boots, Cooper made sure to tell you that if you kept that look somebody would've tried to sell you. You got lucky to be with him.
You didn't want to run off, You'd learned your lesson before; but you were hungry, and you saw what looks to be a place for food and bar. But you didn't want to just run off, especially if it could be dangerous... you wouldn't want Cooper to get in a brawl again.
"What do you think Cooper?" You whisper to him, only for him to hear, you whisper his name.
You liked saying his name. You didn't say it often, but when you did, it always felt good; even if it was a little strange. You still remember the first time he'd told you his name.
You'd woken up to russeling sounds when you spotted the small group trying to steal your supplies. And you yelled "Ghoul!"
You yelled as loud as you could, and He woke up, the Group of four masked raiders all attacked. And you sat there like a complete idiot while he took on all four men while little to no effort.
And even if you hadn't actually fought, you'd felt like you were on the edge of a panic attack, what if something happens to him? You'd be alone. What would happen to you? Would you be killed? Sold? Forced to-
*BANG*
The last gunshot that rang out, the last body falling ti the floor before he walks over and kneels down to your stance where you sat on the ground. "I'm- I'm sorry Ghoul, I just- I saw them I panicked it was like I couldn't even move- I'm sorry Ghoul, I just-" -- "Cooper." -- "what?" -- "My name. It's Cooper."
"Cooper." You smiled.
He didn't smile back, but you could see his eyes change. He didn't look so angry when he looked at you.
He nodded his head and handing a handfull of caps to you, a silent 'okay' for you to break away from him. At least for a little while.
You'd sat in a stool up at the bar eating the first hot meal in God knows how long, and sipping on a sweet drink that was a bit too strong for you, "what's a cutie like you doing here alone?" You heard a man call to you. He wasn't much, scruffy, scrawny, but had very pretty eyes.
"I'm not alone,'you say confidently with a sweet smile, one you're sure he's never seen before.
He takes the stool next to you and tries to have a conversation with you. But quickly gets irritated when you don't play along. And that's when he became ugly...
Yelling, cursing, name calling, everything under the sun wa seeing tossed at you because you told this strange man, "No." You hadn't taken his as anything serious, all bark no bite. Throwing a hissy fit because you wouldn't let him fuck you for a few caps.
And it wasn't until you felt a sting on your left cheek and your head snapped to the side when you realized. He had struck you. Before he grabbed you, pulling you to him, kissing and grabbing at you. The other bar goers had found this... funny. At least until a loud bang was heard and the mans brains splattered all over your face and bar.
"Now who the hell do you think you are to mess with another man's woman?"
"Cooper?"
A rope found its way tosses around you as Cooper shoved you down and into a corner, "don't fucking move."
You were on the road again, Cooper muttering curses under his breath. Still at the man who'd dared lay a hand on your sweet skin, damning him and all his friends who laughed.
No matter how hard you tried you haven't been able to get to him. He just mutters over and over. He could've lost you.
That man would've done much work that just kiss and grab you had he not been there.
Much worse. You would've been killed by the end of it.
"I won't lose you. I won't. Not again."
"Cooper." You tried to move around him to get infront of him, but a harsh grasp hand you in place. "Ouch! Cooper that hurt."
"Where do you think you're going?" -- "No where! I'm just worried about you!"
"I won't lose you. Not again."
"Wha-"
You didn't have time to talk, Cooper kissed you.
"Humph!" Your shock is muffled. You try to pull away.
He doesn't let go...
#yandere monster#yandere#yandere monster x reader#yandere character#fallout x reader#fallout ghoul#cooper howard x you#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x you#the ghoul x reader#monster fucker#monster x reader#faceless bride's tag! đȘŠđŠ#sorry its kinda rushed at the end. tumblr fucked me over and i was angerly finished it
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Wasteland. Prologue
Synopsis: Two unwilling participants in a peculiar arrangement. What are the chances they can actually form a bond?
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader
Genre: Angst (eventual fluff), mature, suggestive, arranged marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Slowburn
Warnings: Dark Themes/topics, misogynistic themes, toxic household, mentions of night terrors, betrothal since birth, swearing/language, implications of pregnancy
A/N: I returned with a new series after a month's break. This is considered a sequel/spinoff to my prior series, Survival, a Historical AU with Trueform! Sukuna x Fem!reader; however, it is not required to read that story to understand this one. Taglist rules still apply to be added to the taglist for this series. With that...I introduce, Wasteland!
Word Count: 6k
âąJJK MlistâąTaglist Rulesâą Prologue â Chapter 1
Marriage is a beautiful ceremony in which two hearts become bound as one for eternityâat least, that is how all the storybooks tell it. When you were introduced to the concept of marriage, you were more than excited to be met with your one true love and have your fairytale ending.
That little fantasy you conjured in your head did not last long.
The moment you showed interest, your parents quickly told you that you had a husband waiting, a boy you had never met nor heard the name of. From what you could understand, he was from an influential family with significant influence and richesâit seemed desirable enough for a little girl of age five. Still, for some reason, it brought you a discomfort you could not name.
Since your birth, you had been assigned a suitor. You were not old enough yet to understand, but the notion that you were married off the second you left your mother's womb was a sickening thought. That the miracle of your birth was not the first thought on everyone's mind, but rather how they could put you to use to get ahead in their society.
None of the tales you had read mentioned your true love being assigned to you. You questioned your parents on the matter, and all they could say was that they were silly stories and that this was your responsibility to the family. Even as a young girl, you knew the situation was peculiar; the nauseating sensation you had received was proof enough, but you didnât argue because you wanted nothing more than to satisfy your family.
The thought of a happy marriage was stripped from you instantly, but that did not rid you of ambitions for other things. There was always something new to hyper-fixate on: your future.
You wanted a job, a career, and a jujutsu sorcerer seemed desirable enough; it was a job. You knew very little about being a shaman, but seeing it as a typical career choice among your family members, it looked more than desirable. You remember running up to your mother and father and mentioning it to them, begging them to teach you, but the only response you got was faces of disgust.
You remember your brother being there, your fraternal twin, beaming with joy when he thought his sister would join him in his studies and training, but that smile was wiped away quickly at your motherâs following words.
âYou are a lady, Y/n, and a betrothed one at that. Do you really think it appropriate for a lady such as yourself to run off into battle and come home bloodied and bruised to her husband? Do you think it is fair that your husband would have to come and see that nothing is set for his return after a hard day of work?â
Thatâs the day you realized that your family was traditional. The woman was meant to cook, clean, and give her clan heirs. The husband was intended to pursue exciting adventures and come home to dinner on the table with a breedable wife at the ready. Nothing more, nothing less. You were a lamb for slaughter. Nevertheless, being the naĂŻve little girl you were, you wanted nothing but to please your family and responded with a weakâŠ
âNo, maâam.â
âGood, I want to hear nothing more of the matter.â
That night, you wept in your pillow, wondering if youâd ever had a choice in your life if you would ever have a choice in your life. From the day you were born, it had seemed that everything had been set out for youâa life plan written by your parents. The situation upset you greatly, and although your mind was not mature enough to think that deeply, you knew you did not like the pang in your heart when your mother addressed you.
The next morning you had seemingly gotten over the situation, going on with your pre-planned life and doing as you were told. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into a year. A year had gone by and you still had not met this boy and sometimes you wondered if he was even real or if your parents were just telling you that to keep you in line. Why were you marrying someone who did not exist?
That was until that very afternoon when you unexpectedly caught a glimpse of the boy in question. You didnât catch much, but he looked of your age and had snow-white hair. You hadnât seen it yourself, but your mother had commented on his gorgeous blue eyes. Before your presence could be known, your caretaker had ushered you into a different room to continue your studies on etiquette.
For the entirety of that lesson, you could not focusâyou were too curious. Who was that boy? What did he truly look like? What was his name? Was he truly the one you were going to marry? You had your suspicions, but you werenât certain, and you would be damned to ask your parents. If they had wanted you to meet the child, they would have introduced the two of you already, right?
That afternoon, you could not help but be in your head until your brother approached you with a grin. You two loved to be around each other, and any chance you guys got to meet with one another, you both would hop on the opportunity. The young sorcerer would tell you about all the new things he had learned that day despite being told to keep that information out of your reach, the reasoning being that young ladies such as yourself wish not to hear such boyish stories; however, your sibling knew that was not the case for you, that was obvious enough seeing how your face would light up when he told you about his day.
Every story you were told made you desire your own studies in the subject, despite knowing your parents would never allow it. You restrained your urge, settling for what had already been planned. However, life had a different agenda for you.
You were nine when it first occurredâŠyou could not remember what had happened, but what you knew was that you had woken up in the middle of the night, your breath heavy with tears streaming down your face as you had awoken from a nightmare that you could no longer picture. Your room was in complete disarray as if thieves had ransacked it. For a moment, you thought that could have been the case, but then you noticed nothing had been stolen?
It took you a minute, but you eventually noticed your brother standing at your door, a shocked look in his eyes. Your parents were quick to join him before mimicking the same expression. You did not know what was going on, and it caused you to break down unexpectedly. You had no idea why you were crying; everything was just so overwhelming, and you could not help but be upset.
Your parents did not move a muscle, almost as if they were afraid to do so, but not your twin. Without hesitation, seeing your emotional display, your sibling came over and embraced you, trying to calm you down.
âItâs okay, Y/n, youâre okay, Iâm right here.â
You managed to calm your beating heart and breathing, your tear ducts now only secreting a couple of tears at a time versus the well before; however, you felt like crying again after looking to see your motherâs disgusted face. You almost let out the emotions again, but that was until you saw your fatherâs face. The man held no face of disgust yet nor sympathy or prideâhis face held intrigue.
You didnât know whether to be scared or relieved at that moment, so you reassured your brother that you were okay and that he could return to his bedroom. The boy was hesitant upon viewing your puffy features, but once he saw your gentle smile, he caved and allowed you your space. The boy stood, walking toward the door slowly as he looked at you, seeing your smile of reassurance, causing him to smile in return.
Your sibling walked out into the hallway, but not without a second glance at your figure, as if he were making sure that you wouldnât change your mind, before walking off to his room. Your smile dropped when he vanished from sight, pitifully looking up to your upbringers only to be met with their cold expressions.
âYou will not speak a word of this to anyone, you hear me, young lady,â your mother sternly instructed, pointing a firm finger in your direction.
You only nodded, holding back the sobs you were longing to let out. With one last warning glance, your mother made her way to her bedroom with your father; however, her face seemed less cold and almost fearful when she thought you could no longer see her. Did she fear you? You didnât want that, quite the oppositeâ you did not want her to fear you; you wanted her to be proud of you. Why was this happening? What was happening?
You became overwhelmed, and in mere seconds, your liquid emotion appeared. You sobbed aloud before realizing you could stir the others in the home, quickly reaching for your pillow to stifle the sound.
Why could you not have been blessed like your brother, endowed with the features of a boy? He did not have an arranged marriage, he did not have to attend etiquette lessons, and he did not have to fear disappointing anybody. Everyone was proud of him solely because he was a boy. You could not think of any other reason; he was a boy, and that made him blessed, blessed enough to not elicit such a reaction from your upbringers.
That following morning, you treated the situation like nothing had happened, even though it lingered in your mind. Even if you wanted to talk about the matter or express your distraughtness from what happened, today was not the day to do so. Your family was having a "get-together," for lack of a better term. Your clan had branched out to multiple areas of the world. On every quarter and special occasion, they would come to your home to be in the presence of one another, informing each other of endeavors and discussing political matters that you would only understand later in life. However, there was one thing you understood about...
Your marriage.
Given past gatherings you had attended, it is the pinnacle of conversation. You were being married into the strongest clan, which followed by marrying the entirety of the family into the clan, meaning that your successful unity was vital for the gain of your family name. You were happy to do it so as long as you could satisfy those you considered loved ones. Even if you were unwilling to sacrifice that decision, you had no real sayâ you were only nine.
But why focus on that dreary subject when that was not what excited you about these gatherings? Your aunt was coming this time, and from what she told you previously, she had a surprise in store for you. To say that you had a strong relationship with her would be an understatement; if not for the fact that she had business in another continent, the two of you would be tied at the hip. You remember a moment when strangers believed you were mother and daughter from how the two of you interacted. She seemed to be the only one in the family, aside from your twin, who did not seem to care about your marital circumstanceâ she cared about you and your well-being.
The day could not have gone by any slower as you fiddled in anticipation of the nightly activities you were about to initiate. When the time finally came, you quickly prepared for the occasion. People began trickling in slowly, but as time went on, it was as if the floodgates had opened. People poured in; some people you recognized, and others you didn't. They were the least of your problems. You were looking for your aunt, but she had yet to show up in your line of sight; however, there was a glimpse of someone who had caught your attention, but you were quick to brush it off when you heard footsteps behind you. Before you could react, you were lifted from the ground with a yelp of surprise before being pulled into an embrace.
"There is my, Little Munchki- oh my goodness youâre getting too big for this!" The familiar voice huffed, still putting you in a better position to withstand your newfound weight from growing so much.
You could not help but laugh and return her embrace, "I missed you, Aunty!"
She pulled away for a moment, touching her forehead to yours.
"I missed you too, Y/n."
Your innocent eyes looked around the room, making sure no prying ears were around before motioning yourself toward your aunt's ears, your voice in a low whisper.
"What is the surprise?"
The woman chuckled, putting you back on the ground. She was still crouching down to your level to whisper in turn.
"Now, it would not be much of a surprise if I revealed it just yet. Just be patient, and all will be revealed in due time."
You sighed in disappointment, only to get your hair ruffled by the older lady. There was an attempt to hold your frown, but your stoic expression could only last for so long before bursting out laughing from the light touches of fingers rapidly attacking your midsection. Your aunt always knew how to put a smile on your face.
"Y/n!"
The moment stopped instantly as your mother approached, your sister standing close at her side. You hardly ever acknowledged the younger girl as she was not very present in your life. If your brother was a rare occurrence to interact with, your little sister was in your presence once in a blue moon. You had nothing against the girl as she was delightful to be around when you were in each others vacinity, but you hardly knew her and could not figure out how to talk to her.
"Stop that unladylike behavior; it is not very becoming, especially with the important company this evening."
You tilted your head, confused, as nothing seemed different from past occasions. You looked at your sister for hints but noticed that her typical, pleasant nature was replaced by a gloom you could not name. Was she alright? Had something happened? Maybe she was just not feeling well. A stomach bug, perhaps?
Before you could even speak to the little girl to ask if she was okay, you paused in advance, hearing your mother's tone change from the stern woman she was to someone you hardly recognized.
"Gojo-sama! I am so glad you were able to make it to this occasion. I hope everything has been comfortable for you."
Her voice was so high-pitched it hurt your ears to listen. The frequency was that of a dog whistle. You were relieved when it was over, only to hear your sister follow in turn with her even pitchier voice.
"Hello, Gojo-san! I'm (L/n) Akiko, but you can call me Akiko."
Her eyes were so bright they could put the stars to shame. Did she know this boy? No, certainly not; she only just introduced herself. Maybe he was important; his dad seemed influential.
You had expected the boy to be polite in turn, but he only âtskedâ before rolling his eyes, looking up at his father and mother as if begging to leave. You were scowling in your mind at his behavior, but you dared not show it in fear of punishment. It would displease your family if you returned such impolite actions to the young male.
"Is this her, the one you have been informing me of? She is quite beautiful." The man smiled, silently greeting himself to Akiko.
"Oh, uh no, Gojo-sama. That is my youngest child, though only by a couple years. This is her, our pride and joy, Y/n."
You could see her hold back an expression when elaborating on you as the pride and joy, but you could not tell why. You didnât think much of it, thinking it not of importance. Maybe she just swallowed a bug or smelt something off.
"Oh, dear...." The man stared at you in shock. You could not tell if it was bad or good shock, and it was starting to scare you. Out of panic, you bowed, afraid that you were showing impoliteness by not offering a greeting. It was silent, causing you more anxiety, before the man chuckled softly.
"Oh, my dear, there is no need for such formalities now. I apologize for staring; it was rude of me. I was only stunned by your striking beauty."
His comment caused you to become flustered, unable to come up with a coherent reply. You stood there like a deer in headlights, but your aunt gave you a slight nudge before you could go off and embrace yourself any further. You looked up at her only to see her clear her throat and flick her eyes toward the man who had made such a nice comment. Questions lingered in her mind momentarily before catching on to her hint.
"Thank you for the kind praise, Gojo-sama." You responded bashfully before bowing again.
Cough "introduce yourself" cough
"M-my name is (L/n) (Y/n), but you may call me (Y/n) if you would like." The introduction was spouted out so quickly you could hardly believe anyone could understand what you said.
You heard a soft laugh, but this time, it was not the man but the mother standing beside the boy. You looked at her and noticed she was a lovely lady. If God were a woman, you were sure that woman looked like God. She was absolutely stunning.
"Now, that was a very ecstatic introduction; I believe it is only fair that you give one in return, don't you think, Satoru."
The boy seemed surprised, looking up at his mother as if she had betrayed him. She only responded with an expression that urged him to continue with his greeting.
"Hi, I am Gojo Satoru, but it's best to call me Satoru." He did not seem panicky but rather bored. It was as if he could not loath anything more than to speak with you.
The woman sighed, shrugging her shoulders as it seemed that was the best she would get from her son.
"Well, seeing the young lady marrying our little man is certainly a delight."
The world seemed to freeze for not just you but for Satoru as well. This was the boy you were supposed to marry?! But he was so...tactless. He was nothing like your mother had described him. She claimed he would be like the prince charming from your old books, but it seems that was all a ploy to make him seem somewhat desirable to you, not that it really worked; however, it did make the impact of the circumstance lighter for you.
This is not what you had expected, and he seemed to feel the same way.
Before anyone could say anything, you heard your father call out to the family.
"If I can get everyone's attention to my sister, she has an announcement she wants to make."
The room set eyes on your aunt, but even she seemed taken aback but it left as quickly as it came, collecting her composure and smiling.
"Yes, first off, I would like to thank my brother for hosting this occasion. It is always lovely to be surrounded by familiar faces. I wanted to announce that I am pregnant, and for the sake of my family, I will be staying here in Kyoto."
The room filled with surprised gasps before erupting into a symphony of cheers and congratulations. You were also excited, but then you wondered if that was your aunt's surprise. Surely not. She made it seem so secretive. You lightly tugged on her clothing, giving her an inquisitive look, but she only responded with her index finger to her lips. Being the cooperative niece you were, you only nodded.
You watched as everyone crowded toward your aunt, well, almost everyone. You noticed your mother did not seem to be joining in on the celebration, nor did your father, though unlike your mother, your father did not seem unhappy but somewhat nervous. Your family truly confused you. As much as you wanted to enjoy the evening with your aunt, you did not want to deal with the overwhelming crowd around her, so you spotted your brother and ran toward him, opting to play with him, seeing that everyone was preoccupied. You had expected your sister to join, but it looked like she had rather be glued to your mother's side instead of playing with the two of you. You shrugged it off and enjoyed the rest of your evening.
The night had died, and everyone went home except for your aunt, as arrangements were made for her to stay at the estate. You said your goodbyes to the family before returning to the Gojo family. It felt tense as their son kept staring at you as if you had grown a third eye in the middle of your forehead, but his mother quickly stopped the behavior before gesturing for him to properly say goodbye. You both bowed and bid farewell before watching the adults do the same. Both parties seemed rather pleased, and you wondered why. Maybe it had something to do with your betrothal, but it was not like it was any surprise, was it?
"Psst"
You turned to see your aunt, gesturing you to follow her into a nearby hallway. No one was paying attention to your presence, so you quietly slipped out of the conversation that hadn't even involved you in the first place and snuck into the gardens with your relative.
"Are you going to show me the surprise now?"
"Patience, patience, my dear," she laughed, "The short answer is yes, but you need to give me a moment."
"But I-"
"No talking back, missy; now close your eyes."
"Wh-"
"Ah, ah, ah, no questions, and close your eyes. No. Peaking."
You followed her instructions this time, closing your eyes and folding your hands in your lap. It only took a few seconds before you felt something shoved into your palms. The best way you could describe it was that the trinket was cold and hard. It had some texture, but it was not overly lumpy.
"Now, open them."
You opened your lids and looked down to your lap, revealing a delicate-looking ring nestled in your hands. It was beautiful, and the jewels that adorned it even more so.
"Is this my engagement ring?"
Your aunt laughed, "No, sweety, it's just a family heirloom. Passed down from my mother and her mother before her."
"It's beautiful," you stared at it in awe, running your finger across the delicate item.
"In exchange for this ring, I want you to make me a promise."
"Okay!"
"Now, don't be so hasty, little one, I haven't even told you what it is yet."
You nodded in response, waiting to hear her following words.
"When this baby is born, I want you to treat and care for her as her older sister. You will love and protect her just as I protect and love you. Promise me you will do this for her.
"But she would be my cousin. How can I love her and protect her like my sister? Is it even a girl?"
"Boy, aren't you inquisitive," your relative chuckled.
"Whatever you would do for your brother, do for her? I don't know if it is a girl yet, but something tells me this child will be. So, do you promise?"
You paused for a moment, thinking over her words before making eye contact with the woman and nodding your head.
"I promise."
She smiled, hugging you before pulling away, looking at the ring.
"Why did you think it was an engagement ring?" she asked amusingly.
"Well, I met the Gojo boy for the first time today, and I thought that this ring was supposed to...I don't know, show that we're going to be married."
You heard the woman sigh, taking the ring from your palm and examining it. "Well, I am pretty sure an engagement ring is supposed to fit your first try, and from the looks of this one, it might take you a couple of years to grow into it." She paused a hesitance in her eye, before bringing her attention back to you. "Do you want to be married, Y/n?"
Her question was confusing, and you were not sure if you could give the correct answer, so you said what you had been saying for years, though you never understood the reasoning for this question.
"Yes, it will make everyone happy, so I am happy."
"Well, what if everyone else's opinion did not matter? Do you still think you would want to get married?
Your aunt had expected a hesitance, but you were all too quick to respond with:
"Yes."
"Would you still want to get married with Satoru?"
That was a better question; it made your heart race and caused you to sweat. You did not understand this reaction, but it was unpleasant.
"I don't know."
Another sigh.
"Y/n, I-" another moment of hesitance, "I know you feel like you need to marry Satoru to make everyone happy, but I do not want you to think of it that way. I want you to marry him out of necessity. Not for everyone else but yourself. You do not have to love him, but you need to rely on him because, in the end, you will be looking out for one another. Who knows, maybe you will grow to like him, maybe not as a lover but as a friend. For your sake, I want you to make me one more promise. Promise me you will marry him, not for everyone else, but for your safety."
You had no idea what she was talking about, but the desperation in her eyes scared you. It was as if she knew something you did not. You had so many questions, but you refrained. Your aunt had never asked anything of you until this day, and unlike everyone else, she cared about your well-being and everyone else's other than herselfâher previous request proved that.
"I promise."
Another hug before leaving the garden. Hands were held as she brought you to your room for bed. Tonight would be a blissful night, a restful night, and you could not wait to indulge in it.
"AHHHHHHHH"
Another nightmare.
You awoke to your belongings on the floor, the state of your room appearing as if a tornado had blown through it. Tears were streaming down your face, and before you could adequately think, you began to feel around the bed. Feeling cold metal, you quickly grabbed the ring you had been sleeping with under your pillow, clutching it to your chest.
Your brother was the first to arrive, clinging to you the moment he reached your bed. He petted your hair and tried soothing you with words of reassurance. This was the second night in a row. Why was this happening? You just wished it would not happen again. Your parents could be seen at your doorway, standing there motionless as they looked at the state of your personal dwelling area. Then they looked at you with fear. It frightened you all the more; however, you found a sliver of comfort when your aunt pushed herself into the room, pausing momentarily at the condition. But it only lasted a second as she focused on you.
She quickly pulled you into her chest, keeping in mind your brother as she also brought him into the embrace. She held you close as soft sobs left your throat. She soothingly shushed you as she rocked you in her embrace. She let go of your form once your cries subsided into sniffles and choked apologies.
"Do not ever apologize for this. It is not your fault," the woman said, wiping the stray years from your cheek and offering a warm smile. "Would you like me to stay the night with you?"
You were ready to say yes, but you caught a glance at your parent's disapproving expressions.
"No, I am alright."
"Y/n, this is the second time this has happened; it would be good for Aunty to stay. I could stay, too."
"What do you mean second time?"
Your brother looked at your aunt, opening his mouth to speak before being interrupted by your mother.
"This episode happened the previous night. It was nothing but a nightmare."
"Nothing but a-" Your aunt swallowed her words before looking at you. "Try to settle back into bed, and I'll be back to stay the night with you."
"But I-"
"Do not worry; your brother can stay with you. Just try going back to sleep for now."
You did not argue, and neither did your twin. He pulled you down onto the mattress and held you close as he tried the comforting methods your aunt had performed. You would be lying if you said it was not working. You tried to force yourself to stay awake in fear of having another terror, in fear of harming your twin, but it only took a few minutes until you fell back into slumber
(Divider)
You woke up from the feeling of a parched throat. You found yourself wanting to move from your spot, but your brother clung to you even tighter the moment you tried. You sighed, turning your head to look at your nightstand only to be pleasantly surprised by the glass of water sitting there, but where did it come fro-
"Why wouldn't you say something?! Everyone was here tonight. There was plenty of support. Fucking Christ, I WAS HERE!"
"Your crude language is not very becoming of you, but if you must know, it was no one's concern...especially you; we handled the situation."
"None of my concern?! Do you need a reminder of why it is my concern, or would you rather spare your pride? Last time I checked, you only came into this family when you married my brother, so you have no right to tell me this is not my concern."
"Look, there is nothing we can do but suppress it. We'll start giving her sedatives so she can sleep through these episodes."
"You have to be kidding me! You're going to drug her?! I might have a better idea; why don't you teach her how to control it?!"
"You do not know the damage it will cause if she goes around with this unstable ability."
"The only reason it is unstable is because you two have been focusing on ONE of the children. Would it really be so bad to just have her train with him? Did you guys go broke or something and are not telling anyone?"
"How dare you! We are financially stable."
"I love how you would rather feel insulted by your financial status than the actual problem at hand. Also, how cute it is to use the word we. When did you start contributing?"
"I'm the one who was able to set her up with the Gojo boy."
"How so, sister?"
"I talked to a few people. Originally, the Zenin wanted her, but the Gojo clan swopped in when that child was born with a deal that we could not refuse."
"You sold her?!"
"Gods, no! I made it known that we were looking for a suitor. I did not expect anyone to throw money at me. The Zenin certainly did, but the Gojo clan gave a better offer: a chance to sit at their table and have at least someone in this family bear the name of a Gojo."
"Well, I highly doubt they will be pleased once they figure out that you planned to let this fester."
"They won't find out because we don't plan to show or tell them of this situation. As I said, we will suppress these unpredictable abilities and be done with the matter. It should be easy enough; she is young and unaware of these episodes."
"Just teach her how to use and control it!"
"IT ISN'T FIT FOR A WOMAN OF THE STATUS SHE IS GOING TO ACHIEVE!"
"Excuse me..."
"Trust me, if I had a say, I would have had my younger one marry into the Gojo clan, but that girl was born first, and we had already accepted the offer."
"So because you married her off, you aren't going to let her fulfill her potential?!"
"Enough! I am tired of this bickering. The damage has been done, and we will all live with it. I wish to rest and move on with our lives. Besides, it is not good for the baby for you to be getting all riled up, my sister."
"Do not start acting like you're the clan head; that has yet to happen. As a matter of fact, didn't Father refuse to give you the title? Do not start getting cocky, brother. The man is still alive whether we like it or not, and if he finds out about your little secret, he'll damn you for it."
"..."
"Well, it is a good thing he'll never find out."
The room went silent, and you could hear something break. Footsteps began to approach your door, and because you were afraid of getting caught, you closed your eyes and pretended to sleep. The door opened, and you felt the bed shift as your aunt slowly settled onto the mattress.
"Cowards," she muttered.
Silence lingered for a few minutes before feeling fingers running along your scalp. The woman hummed a familiar tune while scratching your scalp. The song seemed familiar, but you could not recall where or when you heard it last. Where had you listened to this song?
It was a calming hum, but it did not stop the feeling deep in your chest and the rush of your mind from what you had overheard.
You initially thought your gender was a curse, and in a way, it was; however, there were plenty of females in your family who served their ambitions without the fear of submission, and your aunt was one of them. You were being held behind because of that arrogant and impolite boy who attended the gathering. Your marriage was a curse, restraining you from your most substantial potential. At this moment, you detested that you were getting married, despite your previous beliefs and fantasies of such an occasion, especially because, of all people, it was Gojo Satoru. His name was like a curse on your future, but as much as you wanted to hate him for it, you had to recognize he was just as much a victim as you. There was no intention to retaliate against the arrangements made because, as reluctant as you were, you still wanted to please those you cared for. The promise you made to your aunt playing a prominent factor. You would instead be ostracized than to disappoint the woman you looked up to.
However, as you drifted back into sleep, you had a pent-up emotion you could not name. For your sanity, you whispered something in your mind that you would never think to say aloud and did not truly mean. You were a kid struggling to manage this burning feeling, so instead of lashing out, you pinned it on something...or rather, someone.
I hate Gojo Satoru.
#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic#angst#tw misogyny#tw toxic family
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Between Cooper's opening scene and Hancock's opening scene, I can't pick a favourite.
If they ever met that ham off would be immense.
Ghouls need the following:
A Cool Hat. (Tricorn vs Cowboy hat).
A schtick, a gimmick, a persona. (Colonial King of the Zombies vs Good Sheriff gone bad).
A Signature Gun (Sawed off Shot-gun vs Whatever Coops' cool as fuck boom stick is).
A Signature Meele Move (Bowie Knife in the gut vs The Lasso).
Tragic Backstory (Naturally, everyone has one in the wastes but you gotta up the ante for Ghouls).
A Drug Problem (What's in the vials?!)
A Sassy/Sarcastic Attitude towards their Vaultie. (It's bonding to drag your Vaultie across the wasteland in a choke-hold ok? It IS--).
A Dramatic Opening Scene. (I was won over both times, love at first sight, that's my wasteland husband right there---)
Big Dad Energy (...Ok.)
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Starlett - Part 1
Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)
Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some fluff
Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence
Summary: The Ghoul remembers a recruit of Moldaver, by the name of Irene Taylor, who he met before the war.
This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! âĄ
Part 2 | Part 3 | Final part
2296
Cooper's weather-beaten boots thudded on the dirt, the stones crackling beneath his heels.
The town was too quiet for there not to be a surprise waiting for him somewhere amongst the pre-war rubble so when a glimpse of movement caught his attention and he pulled his gun.
A kid, no older than 15 held up his hands in fear.
"Please don't shoot!"
Coopers sunken eyes narrowed. "Do yourself a favour and scram. If you try anything I will shoot you. Understand?"
The kid nodded frantically in agreement and Cooper gestured with his gun for the kid to get out of there.
As the boy ran off, a large, rolled up piece of paper fell out of his backpack and unfurled face-up in the dirt.
Cooper stepped over as he re-holstered his gun, and looked down at it out of curiosity. When he saw a familiar face on it he bent down to pick it up and held it out in front of him.
"Irene Taylor," It read. "Songbird of Hollywood Hills."
On the poster was a large photograph of a glamorous woman behind a microphone, and a look of a fond, yet faded, remembrance appeared on his scarred features.
2077
"This is a little public for a meeting isn't it?" Cooper asked as he and Lee Muldaver made their way to an empty table at a local jazz club called the Bird Cage.
"My contact is meeting us here. Don't worry about being recognised, this place is used to celebrities, they mind their own business."
They took a seat and settled in and Cooper turned his attention to the band, the singer had a lovely voice and it reminded him of the band that played at his wedding. He shook the memory from his mind.
"So where is this contact?" He asked.
Muldaver smiled a little. "You're listening to her."
He looked back at the singer.
Now that he thought about it, he did recognise her. He'd seen her face on posters for jazz clubs all over the city but never gave them much thought.
"Her husband is Frank Taylor, he's an executive for Vault Tec. She feeds us any information she can get. She's one of our best."
She had wonderful stage presence, captivating the audience with a rendition of "Them There Eyes" by Billie Holiday. Her champagne coloured dress sparkled in the stage lights, and she had every person in that room wrapped around her finger, and she knew it.
When she finished the song the room roared with applause and she stepped off the stage, politely thanking patrons as they came up to her on her way over.
Muldaver rose from her seat to meet her as she reached their table.
"Lee." Irene smiled fondly as she hugged her. "Thank you for coming."
"That was wonderful as always."
"Stop it you." Irene joked.
"May I introduce Mr. Cooper Howard?"
Irene looked at him and he held out his hand, having stood up with Muldaver.
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Howard." She smiled as she took his hand.
"The pleasure is mine." He replied with a charming grin.
She sat down at their table and waved the waiter down for a round of drinks.
"How is everything going? Is Frank well?" Muldaver asked.
Cooper noticed Irene make a subtle, nervous glance at the bar before answering. "He's fine." She replied. "You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Yes, our new recruit."
Muldaver looked at Cooper and Irene seemed surprised, unable to reply for a few seconds.
"I apologise for seeming so shocked, but with all of your promotions with Vault Tec, you're one of the last people I'd expect."
"Don't worry about it." He replied, reassuring her. "I understand. I'm not the first I'd expect either."
"Well, I guess this proves how convincing Lee can be." She smiled again, but there was something in that smile that seemed pained somehow.
Just then, a man came up behind them with a drink in his hand and put the other on Irene's shoulder and she jumped a little.
By her reaction Cooper thought it was another random patron come to say hello and invade her space, but he kissed her on the cheek and she looked up and smiled at him.
"Hello darling." She said.
"Hi Frank, how have you been?" Muldaver smiled.
"Oh, you know, more hours and no pay rise." He joked.
It was obvious he was tipsy and the discomfort on Irene's face as her husband sat down next to her made Cooper's eyes narrow a little.
"Darling, have you met Mr. Howard?"
"No I haven't had the pleasure." Frank replied, reaching over to shake his hand. "Nice to finally meet you Mr. Howard, your advert for vault 4 was terrific, exactly what we were looking for. I was sad to hear about your resignation."
Cooper shifted in his seat and chuckled uncomfortably, trying to retain his professionalism. "Ah, well, I'm not getting any younger." He joked.
Frank laughed, a little louder than was necessary. "Aren't we all! Say, is it true that it was your real dog in A Man and His Dog?".
Cooper took a sip of his drink that had just arrived. "Yes, Roosevelt, he's a beloved member of our little family."
"Well isn't that just the cutest darn thing." He smiled.
Irene was shrinking. Frank's presence was drowning the one that was only just captivating an entire audience. Then he noticed it and his chest pulsed with distain.
"Mr. Taylor, would you mind if I stole your wife for a dance?"
Irene looked slightly worried and stuttered her reply. "U-um, I don't..." She looked at Frank, almost for permission.
He hesitated but wanted to save face in front of everyone. "Of course." He smiled.
She stood up and walked over to take Cooper's extended hand.
He lead her to the dance floor. The band was playing an instrumental of "Good Morning Heartache" and he placed a hand on her waist.
"Not too close." She said. She realised her fear had slipped out and very quickly composed herself. "Don't want Frank to get jealous." She chuckled, disguising her reaction with a joking tone.
He stayed a modest distance from her as they began swaying to the music.
"He's playing it down but Frank is a big fan of yours. He's seen almost all of your movies, even dressed as your role in The Man From Calabasas for Halloween a few years back."
"You know," he said. "There's a funny story from that set. In the scene where I had to lasso that steer, the first take it somehow managed to pull me clean off my horse. I had a terrible black eye for two weeks after that, but the makeup team covered it up so well that no one could tell. In other words, I know a cover job when I see one."
She nervously glanced at her shoulder, briefly enough that hopefully Frank wouldn't notice if he was watching her.
"I know we just met, and it's none of my business, but Lee told me you married him for the mission. If he's hurting you, you need to tell her."
"She knows." Irene replied.
"She knows? And she hasn't pulled you out?"
"I asked her not to."
"Why?"
"Because this cause means a lot to me, and whatever I'm going through is for the greater good. I'm the only one with my foot in the door this high up, at least before you showed up."
He was getting angry now, not at anyone in particular, but at the unnecessary situation.
"Forgive me, but that's about the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard. You don't need to be in this any more than I do."
She scoffed dismissively. "You don't understand Mr. Howard, this is my purpose, stopping Vault Tec in any way that I can, even if it's one password or document at a time."
Part 2
#fallout#fallout tv#fallout tv show#fallout tv series#cooper howard#the ghoul#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x fem reader#cooper howard x fem!reader#cooper howard x fem oc#cooper howard x fem!oc#the ghoul and reader#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x fem reader#the ghoul x fem!reader#the ghoul x oc#the ghoul x fem!oc#the ghoul x fem oc#cooper howard fic#the ghoul fic#cooper howard fanfic#the ghoul fanfic#Spotify
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