#the first of a million kisses | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghoul-foolery · 4 months ago

Text

Riata - The Ghoul x Lucy MacLean

Two times the Ghoul used his lasso to wrangle Lucy MacLean, and one time she actually liked it.

No Smut, only kisses.

Lucy was thirsty. Very thirsty. So thirsty that it was overwhelming. So thirsty that it became real dang difficult to think of much else despite how desperately she tried to keep her mind busy. If she wasn’t being held hostage by a dastardly noseless man (she was), and still in the vault (she wasn’t), she would be able to commit herself to a number of things to keep her troubled mind occupied. She could go train; do her gymnastics, or her fighting, or go to shooting practice. She’d be able to brush up on the latest chapters being covered by the MacLean family book club, or prepare a lesson plan for an upcoming history class. Without her typical go-to’s, she had taken to mentally reciting lines from her favorite movies but it was getting harder and harder to focus. What should have been the opening lines from The Man and His Dog turned into her reviewing the symptoms of dehydration.

Dry mouth (check). Trembling (goodness, her hands wouldn’t stop quaking). Thirst (she was so thirsty). Her captor, the awful, awful man, made a bit of a game out of her predicament. He would mosey to a stop near decrepit, poisoned water sources and taunt Lucy.

“Bet yer thirsty, huh, sugar?” he’d drawl. “All this water and not a single drop for the poor little vaultie to drink.”

On some occasions he would go out of his way to splash the water source around. The ripples broke the greasy stagnation, made the water look a little less putrid, and more palatable. Sometimes the Pip-Boy’s Geiger counter would join in on the torment with a poignant click, click, click. On one occasion it prompted the undead-looking cowboy to release an alarming cackle that would have been befitting a movie villain. Dastardly, indeed.

The click, click, clicking, the endless taunting, and the relentless sun were a most formidable tag team and Lucy found her resolve breaking far sooner than she had expected. The water looked more like waste product than it did actual liquid. It was a puddle nestled in a questionable container, tucked away in the middle of some dilapidated buildings. She lamented not drinking from a broken toilet three stops ago. That water at least looked somewhat clean. Her knees gave way, nearly collapsing into the sand before she dipped trembling hands into the water and took big greedy gulps. It tasted sour and acrid; nothing like water. It left an oily coating in her throat that made her gag. Lucy swallowed down the sensation, desperate to keep it down.

Out of her periphery, the man had stooped down beside her. He looked disgustingly smug as Lucy met his eyes. He was alarmingly proficient with baiting her into getting angry, and getting her to take verbal snipes at him. Thankfully this particular back-and-forth was brief, as the noseless man was swept away in a coughing fit. During their travels, he had been incredibly stalwart in his management of her. He hadn’t let his guard down once; not even when he went to relieve himself – and to be honest, good for him, because Lucy had been more than prepared to make a grand escape attempt the second she heard his fly unzip. The coughing overtook her captor, dragging him into a hacking, drooling mess. His guard was finally down and Lucy made a run for it.

By the time she reached the end of the block of destroyed houses she could still hear him wheezing for air. She took a hard turn down another sand-packed street, and performed a hood-slide just like the ones she had seen in some of her dad’s movies.

But then she saw the ditch; the fudging massive hole in the ground where there should have been more buildings, maybe a city, maybe people. It was a void in the earth and the sheer force of shock she felt upon seeing it slowed her progress to a complete stop. That’s when the rope appeared, dropping clean over her head before cinching up tight at her waist. Lucy didn’t even have enough time to be properly perplexed before she was yanked off her feet and tumbling butt over tea kettle through the sand.

Desperation kicked in. Lucy had been a good hostage. Though she admittedly could have tried harder at being amicable, she had been polite. She addressed him as sir when she spoke to him, and thanked him the one time he had let her go to relieve herself. All in all, this situation withstanding, she had been a dang good hostage – but not any more. His gnarled, mottled hands ended up near her face, one of the fingers dipping into her mouth as she screamed and struggled against the tight lasso. In a fit of rage, Lucy bit down with every ounce of force she could muster. She tasted salt, grainy sand, and then her mouth flooded with a wave of hot copper.

Lucy MacLean had bitten off her assailant’s finger. Beyond the surprise at her own ferocity, she expected him to lash out and maybe finally kill her but her captor didn’t even hint at the pain. If anything, he said something that could have maybe been praise…?

He still cut off her pointer finger, though.

The Mojave was hell on earth.

If Lucy could turn back time to when she was at the Santa Monica observatory, right to the exact moment when the Ghoul said, “You comin’?” she would make sure that she said no. Heck, she would make sure to say fuck no. There had been enough chasing down Hank MacLean to last her an entire lifetime. Quite frankly, her father wasn’t the man she had thought he was and chasing him across the desert just made her dislike him all the more. The only highlight to the excursion was that Lucy and Ghoul were on the same team; she wasn’t a hostage and the Ghoul had prepared for the journey. They had food and water, but they were forced to adhere to strict rationing. While they were able to hunt and forage for food, the nights they didn’t manage to find something were lean, and the thirst was constant.

On one day in particular, a handful of days into their trip, when the sun was at its zenith and being particularly brutal, Lucy’s throat started to chafe. There wasn’t enough moisture in her mouth to swallow and soothe the ache but out of habit she kept trying. It left her throat feeling grittier than sandpaper. After one particular attempt to swallow down the pain she nearly choked when it felt as if her throat had stopped working. Her pace slowed almost to a stop and her hand moved to cup her jugular.

Marching diligently a few feet away, the Ghoul whistled to get her attention just before tossing a small stone in her direction. Lucy managed to catch it, but only just barely. It was smaller than her palm, and close to the size of the old hard candy that Betty used to give the kids in the vault. The stone was brilliantly white on the edges with pockets and grooves tinged an earthy brown. This particular excursion with the Ghoul was significantly less hostile. The first couple of days were awkward, and strained, but Lucy soon grew comfortable in his presence. He was still a bit too rough-and tumble, and a little too prone to anger, but he had grown far more patient with her. The ghoul still liked to push her buttons though, getting a fair bit of amusement with getting her worked up. So when he tossed the rock at her, she was almost completely positive he had done it to see her flinch. Just as she was priming herself to make an exaggerated show of rolling her eyes and throwing it back at him, the Ghoul tossed a similarly size stone into his mouth.

“Go on,” he said, the rock tucked into his cheek. “It’ll help. Just mind those perdy teeth’a yers, princess.”

Though Lucy was skeptical, she plopped the pebble on to her dry tongue. It tasted like nothing at first, and then she began to salivate. It was salty, with tinges of something earthy, and carrying the grit of the Mojave sand. Groaning in relief, Lucy gulped down the precious moisture as it pooled in her mouth. The ache in her throat received a modicum of sweet relief.

“It stops workin’ after a while,” he continued on, giving her a sidelong glance. “Doesn’t do much for dehydration but it stops ya from breathing through your mouth.”

“Thank you so much,�� Lucy said in earnest. She mustered enough energy to send him a thankful smile. “Where did you learn that?”

“Ol’ trick I learned back in boot camp.” After a beat of silence he added, “Don’t choke. Don’t think I won’t eat you if you die out here.”

Boot camp. Did that mean he had been with the Brotherhood of Steel? She knew better than to ask outright. The personal questions were usually what got him annoyed the fastest.

Lucy tucked the rock into her cheek, feeling the stone clack against her teeth. “One of these days I’m going to ask you everything I want to know about you, and you’re going to give me answers.”

“Sure, I’ll letcha know.”

“You will not.”

“No,” he agreed on a huffed breath, a small twitch of his lips belying his amusement. “I will not.”

“Because you like arguing, and getting a rise out of people?”

“People? Nah, sweetheart. Only you.”

They fell into a mutual silence, trudging onward through the sea of sand. The Ghoul was right. The pebble stopped assisting with saliva production maybe an hour later. The grating thirst returned, and it returned with a vengeance. If she could go back she would say no. If she could go back, she would return to her vault and have a luxurious shower and a hot meal. If she could go back—

There was a structure jutting out of the sand in the not-so-far distance. It shifted and flagged under the waves of the beating sun, but Lucy was almost completely sure she could make out the jutting slab of tin on the roof.

“Holy moly,” she rasped, slowing. “You see that?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“Can…” she didn’t like asking the Ghoul for favors. Didn’t like the idea of him seeing her as a weak link, but she was desperate for a break. “Can we stop there for the night?”

The ghoul had already changed trajectory, picking up his pace as he said,“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Lucy tailed him, matching his pace and feeling a fresh kick of energy when they grew close enough to the shed to determine that it wasn’t just a mirage. She got a little ahead of herself then. A little ahead of him, too. Once it was confirmed that the structure was real she moved to a jog, and then an all out run. They found shade. They found shelter for the night. Through her excitement, and the sound of her own rampant breathing, Lucy could hear the Ghoul call out to her.

“Easy, darlin’. Let’s check it out first.”

While she could process that she had heard his voice, her sun-fried mind was unable to properly process the words. Running through the sand made her legs burn, her mouth was watering with exertion. They could have a fire for the night, a properly cooked meal! She could make out the shape of a door against the old wooden structure, and could see the way that sand had built up over the bottom of the frame.

The Ghoul called out again, his voice sharper, “Goddammit, Vaultie, slow down!”

But still, Lucy ran. When she reached the shack she stuttered to an uneven stop, reaching for the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled for all she was worth. The door resisted under the weight of built up sand, and so she pulled harder, throwing her weight into pulling the door open.

A bone-chilling hiss shot out from the shack, followed by something guttural and shrill. Something lunged from the dark of the shack,

“LUCY!”

All she could do was stare, even as she acknowledged the danger before her. Lucy was off balance after fighting with the door, and her mind couldn’t quite work out whether to right herself or make a run for it. The creature that emerged from the darkness was human once. It had been like the Ghoul once. The feral ghoul was much more gaunt than the others she had seen. Its bony fingers looked too much like claws, and the skin of its face was long gone, exposing skull and teeth. And she could do nothing else but watch as it came at her with both. Lucy closed her eyes as she braced for impact – and then something wrapped tight around her ribs, and she was being yanked backwards.

Lucy fell into the burning sand in a heap, her cry of surprise being washed out by the abrupt sound of a single gunshot. When she opened her eyes the dead feral ghoul was at her feet.

“Fucking hell, Lucy–”

“—I’m sorry—“

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?”

“—I just—“

“Just tryin’ t’get yerself killed?!”

“—no, no—“

The Ghoul drew breath to continue berating her but the wind suddenly vanished from his sails. His shoulders deflated. He closed his eyes, and huffed, “Fuck, girl.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, squinting up at him. The sand was far too hot to be laying in, but she was almost afraid to move. “I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking–”

She expected a short, angry rebuttal but all he did was cast a look about the desert. Then he looked at the dead feral. He gave a tug to the rope, it cinched tighter, digging into her skin and probably bruising. He moved past her and into the shack for a moment, then returned, holstering his weapon.

“Get in there and sit the fuck down,” he ordered.

They stayed in the shack for two nights before setting out again.

Upon getting to the other side of the Mojave, the Ghoul and Lucy ran face first into the wasteland’s golden rule: thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time. Their trail had gone cold a month or two ago, and the duo had ended up involving themselves in an insurmountable amount of bullshit. The only real plus side was that there were more than enough caps coming their way, and it afforded them luxuries that Lucy once took for granted. They were able to secure room lodgings for days-long stays. They were able to afford bathing accommodations, warm food, and mostly clean water. Having a few creature comforts seemed to pull the Ghoul out of his perpetual state of fight-or-fight, but he seemed to grow even more protective of his vaultie.

Whenever they purchased lodgings they shared a room. The one time Lucy offered to buy a second room for a couple of nights he had adamantly refused. Despite having several meal options - different types, different locales - they still took every single one of their meals together. Some of their evenings felt downright domestic, and that suited Lucy just fine. The only problem was that the remnants of Nevada itched at her curiosities. Lucy wanted to go to the casinos to see, and play the games. Lucy wanted to learn the card game everyone and their sister was playing. Lucy wanted to go to the bar and try her first drink, she wanted to have dinner in the old restaurants and experience the community they were staying in. The Ghoul was very staunchly opposed, but Lucy couldn’t hold it against him. The area was apparently flush with slavers, and he obviously didn’t want to take any chances before they managed to figure out the next step in their journey…

But sometimes Lucy’s curiosity ran a little too rampant… Which was why she snuck out of their hotel room when the Ghoul was taking a bath.

The Ghoul had very begrudgingly agreed to treat Lucy to dinner down in the hotel restaurant. Lucy was jittery with excitement. During some of their more recent jobs she had found a lovely baby blue floral sundress, and she had been looking for a reason to wear it the second she tucked it away in her pack. Dinner would be the perfect opportunity. Lucy took her turn in the bathroom to get gussied up. She got washed and managed to coax a couple of lazy curls into her hair.

When she was finished, she exited the bathroom. The dress was a little worn, but it fit well. It tucked in close at the waist with a flattering boat neck. It was just a shame that she couldn’t find better shoes, and had to stick with her clunky worn traveling boots. The accessories were limited to her pistol and holster. The Ghoul gave her a brief once over, then pushed past her with a terse, “Gimme a minute.”

Lucy gave him maybe two minutes before she wrote him a note telling him that she would be waiting at the bar. After making it down the rickety stairs Lucy took the quickest of detours to the hotel’s game room. There were a couple of people milling about, sitting at slot machines and idly pushing buttons. She took in all of the colorful lights, the ringing bells, and the strange synthetic music, and then she went straight to the bar located in the restaurant area. The place was probably brilliant, once. Decked out in rich reds and opulent golds that had faded poorly.

Perching on one of the many vacant stools surrounding the bar, Lucy offered up her friendliest smile at the bartender and ordered a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla. The woman had a kind face, but tired eyes. She set the bottle in front of Lucy, letting her keep the cap. The dining tables around the bar were sporadically filled, some people nursing drinks, others nursing plates of food. There was a little disappointment. She was expecting lively chatter and community, the room felt more like a ghost town. That is until the stool on her right became occupied despite the rest of the bar being open.

“This seat taken?” The man asked. He was rough-looking, with scars scattering up and down his neck and chin. He had dark short cropped hair and was adorned in miss matched armor. Despite his mean appearance, Lucy decided that his voice was kind.

She greeted him with a polite smile as she joked, “I guess it is now!”

There was no problem with sharing in some company until her date for the evening appeared, but the man’s friendly demeanor only put her on guard. The questions he asked were gently prying, asking where she was going and where she came from. Lucy politely skirted, silently acknowledging that there was a time not too long ago that she would have answered with a too open honesty. The Ghoul was to thank for her ability to acknowledge that even innocent questions could lead to dangerous ends.

But then in a matter of minutes her guard was down, because the man had pulled out a deck of playing cards, and had pulled the bartender in for a game of Caravan. Noticing Lucy’s interest, he offered to teach her how to play. Of course she accepted. The Ghoul was taking a while anyway, so what was the harm? The man and the bartender took turns explaining the set up, and then they dealt the cards. Lucy wasn’t sure when the man’s arm draped over her shoulder, and she wasn’t sure when the man had started sitting so close, but that was how the Ghoul found them.

“Well,” he said by way of greeting. His slow drawling voice immediately set Lucy on high alert. “Isn’t this just fuckin’ cozy?”

Lucy and her card partner glanced back. He snorted, “Easy, man. Plenty of other seats to choose from.”

The Ghoul shifted, kicking one of the legs of the stool. “That’s awfully funny, ‘cause I think I want this seat right here.”

There was danger in the Ghoul’s voice, an underlying threat. Sometimes it seemed like he leaned into the molasses in his voice to keep people off guard. Like if he let his accent thicken and his voice move a little slower then people wouldn’t anticipate just how explosive his next move would be. Lucy cleared her throat, placing her cards face down. No one needed to die over something so mundane.

“Thank you both so much for trying to teach me, but I do believe I’m late for a dinner date with my friend here.” She turned on her stool and went to dismount just before the man grabbed her arm.

“You don’t have to go anywhere just because this ghoul doesn’t have any fucking manners—“

The Ghoul’s gloved hand shot out faster than lightning. He palmed the stranger’s head and slammed it down into the surface of the bar. It was done with so much force that the cards jumped and scattered. The stranger’s drink toppled and the glass shattered. The bartender back pedaled, holding her hands up in surrender though she looked deeply amused. Lucy hopped down from her seat and got between the Ghoul and the man before the violence escalated even further. As the man wailed his pain, curling in on himself and grasping his head, Lucy placed her hands on the Ghoul’s chest and gave him a gentle push backward.

“Hey,” she said earnestly. “Hey let’s go, huh? We can grab something to eat and go sit outside, or back to the room?”

“Fuck you, you fucking ghoul!” The man raged. “You fucking piece of shit—“

“You promised me dinner, remember? Come on, ignore him,” Lucy said softly, trying to keep her voice low and gentle. The Ghoul’s eyes lowered to Lucy. “Let’s go get something to eEEEEAT—“ in a move that was just as fast as his assault on the man, Lucy MacLean was picked up and tossed over the Ghoul’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then he did a sharp pivot and marched away. “Hey! Hey, put me down!”

“Hush.”

“No! This isn’t fair!”

She griped and complained their whole way back to their room, and the Ghoul let her. He did not put her down again until they were in their room and the door was shut.

“What the fudge—“ no, no this time she needed the big guns. “What the fuck was that about? There was nothing happening, nothing untoward. They were just showing me a card game while I waited—“ he was moving across the room towards his bed where he kept his things, his back to her as she raged. “— and then you come in and just attack him?”

“He was sittin’ awfully goddamn close to just be showin’ you a game’a cards.”

“And that’s a crime?”

The Ghoul’s back was still facing her, but he had stopped rummaging through his pack. His posture straightened, but he did not look back towards her.

“And if he wanted somethin’ more from you, vaultie?”

“That—that isn’t a crime either! Now. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going back downstairs.” She turned on her heel. She fumbled with the lock and pushed the door open. “Look, I don’t want to fight okay—“ she started into the hall just as that gosh dang honda knot dropped over her shoulders. It snapped shut at her waist and she was pulled backward. It wasn’t enough to send her careening to the ground, this wasn’t the violent wrangling she had received in the past, but it was enough to make Lucy stumble. For a moment she thought she was for sure going to land on her butt, but the Ghoul was suddenly behind her. She tumbled into his body and he secured her there with an arm around her waist. The door slammed shut and then she was being spun around, pushed up against it. “Sir—!” Lucy barely had the chance to process that there was a big gloved hand at her throat before the Ghoul was kissing her.

This kiss wasn’t like the kisses that she had shared with her former husband. Those had been a little sloppy with her nervousness, and felt a little cold. Probably because that jerk Monty was planning to kill her. This kiss wasn’t like the sweet, chaste kisses she had shared with Maximus. The man was inexperienced but he tried in earnest; but there was just no time to learn and no time to teach.

This kiss was consuming. This kiss was claiming. This kiss was sensual in a way that Lucy had never experienced. The Ghoul took his time with her, kissing deep but all silken and slow. Gripping at the lapels of his duster, Lucy sighed. She would have leaned in closer if it weren’t for the hand at her throat. He squeezed just enough to make her head throb in time with her pulse, squeezing just enough to hold her at the Ghoul's mercy. Aching heat pooled at her center as his tongue stoked against hers in a motion mimicking sex. Slow, dragging. A silky inward thrust, paired with a lazy withdrawal. In and out, taking his time with her. He withdrew suddenly, marking his departure with a harsh nip to her lower lip. The grip at her throat loosened and she came back to herself in a rush.

“Ho—“ Lucy licked her lips, her eyes fluttering open. “Holy moly.”

“You don’t wanna fight,” the Ghoul said, his voice husky and low. His free hand reached to push her bangs away from her eyes. “So you’ll listen t’me when I tell you not to let some fuckin’ asshole get that close to you again. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yep.”

Another nip — sharp and painful — quickly chased by a suckle at the afflicted sight, a swipe of the tongue. Criminy, it was good.

“And you’ll listen t’me when I tell you not to leave this goddamn room without me again.”

“Uh-huh.”

The palm at her throat vanished entirely, and his hands dipped to loosen the rope at her waist. He didn’t back away, keeping close and forcing her arms up so he could guide the lasso up over her chest, past her head— and then her wrists were pinned up against the door, pulled together by the rope, and secured by his hand. Lucy practically melted into a puddle of goo, becoming pliant and willing. It would appear that she was deeply interested in a partner who was dominant. How interesting. How good to know.

Lucy swallowed hard, then whispered, “But, um, maybe you should kiss me again, though? Just to make real dang sure I won’t argue… ” The ‘please’ hung on her lips.

The Ghoul’s mouth quirked slowly. “You want me to shut you up?” The hold on her wrists got a little firmer. He dragged his mouth over her jaw, then down along her neck. “I could shut you up good and proper, darlin’.”

Lucy’s mouth watered, she hummed her interest.

“But you’ve been bitchin' about me takin’ you to dinner, so we oughtta do that first.”

The Ghoul moved away from her in a blink, abandoning her near the door and directing his attention to re-wrapping his rope. Lucy blinked, trying to properly process what had just occurred. He tossed a glance in her direction, his eyes assessing her with barely hidden amusement. “You ready?”

Still breathless, a little confused, and way too darn warm, Lucy replied, “Okey-dokie.”

#The Ghoul #Lucy MacLean #Fallout #Fallout TV Series #The Ghoul x Lucy MacLean #First Kiss #Riata is one of one million words for lasso #Cooper Howard #canon hostage situation #canon torture #ao3 fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #cooper howard x lucy maclean

17 notes · View notes