#shadow writes

T-MINUS FOUR HOURS (BEFORE THE GALA)

“You’re nervous.” The statement came from Jameson, who saw right through her rapid finger-tapping as more than just an outlet for boredom.

Out of all of the things Avery needed to do that day, filling out forms seemed like the least stressful- and yet, it didn’t seem to curb her anxiety.

She looked up from her desk, and watched Jameson lean his back against the doorframe, putting her in the center of his field of vision.

“Of course I’m nervous! The Hawthorne Foundation Gala is today, and for some reason I’m doing taxes-“

“-and for your pain and suffering, you deserve at least a year’s worth of chocolate donuts!” Xander burst into the room, bearing said chocolate donuts and nearly knocking over Jameson. He tossed his brother a donut before taking a better look at Avery. “I fear you may require a stronger source of sugar with the amount of stress coming from you.” he placed the donuts on her desk.

When Avery didn’t take a donut, he raised an eyebrow. “Does this have nothing to do with taxes and everything to do with an upcoming press release involving the two of you?”

Avery looked at him, seeming close to panic, and both of Xander’s eyebrows went up. “I will take that as a yes, leave this room, and strongly recommend you lovebirds speak to each other.”

Jameson left the door and stood against her desk, facing away. “Do you regret this, Heiress?”

Avery stood and braced herself on the desk. “Of course not. You know that, I know that, but does everyone else know?”

Jameson looked at her. “We’re doing this so that everyone knows. I don’t know if they’ll believe us, but they’ll be informed.”

Avery turned around, and leaned against Jameson. “They’re never going to believe or accept it. This community is weird, Jameson. They hate me enough as is, they’re never going to accept us together.”

Jameson raised an amused eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

“What?”

“Look, you gave Alisa the picture and the caption yesterday. She posted it about two minutes ago-“

“-when the donuts came?” Avery’s shock was mixed with anger and relief and it caused Jameson to give her a small smirk.

“-yes, when the donuts came. I think you’re prepared for the worst, Heiress, but maybe not as prepared for the reception we’re truly receiving.” He handed her her phone.

Avery rapidly opened up Instagram and found her phone filled with notifications. She checked her latest post and found a picture of herself and Jameson covered in paint, from the day the two had built and painted her desk. In the photo, she gave Jameson a kiss on the cheek and it was captioned ‘first love ❤️❤️’.

It had over a million likes.

“Wait, a million?” Jameson leaned over her shoulder to look at her phone. It felt oddly domestic and she embraced the feeling. “Alisa said it had 10,000. It’s been less than five minutes, how is the app still running?”

Avery shrugged, a smile finding its way onto her lips. She opened up the comment section.

angel_face222 THEYRE SO CUTE

SONICSCREAMS people date this guy?

reply from lia-eliza dude imagine the kids 😍😍

HOT_TO_GO OPPOSITES ATTRACT CONFIRMED?????

      reply from SONICSCREAMS didn't she date his brother 😭 like that one interview

laffytaffyhappy does this mean he’ll stop being all law-breaky or will she start doing illegal shit.

my-name-is-slim-shaky wait, I lwk never imagined this, but they work so well together, it's my new OTP

theCALENDARRR oh to be young and in love.

      reply from I_is_calculator you're like 16

      reply from theCALENDARR shut up Jessica

      reply from I_is_calculator my name is Elena 😭

Jameson stopped her from scrolling further. "Look, the reception isn't all going to be puppies and chocolate donuts. But I think you're doing pretty good if Instagram thinks it’s not propaganda.”

"Jameson, that was five people out of-" she checked the phone again. "nine thousand comments."

Jameson shrugged. "I highly doubt they're the only five positive ones, Heiress, you would've had a harder time finding it otherwise."

Alisa, who Avery hadn't seen since that morning, walked into the room holding a large garment bag, followed by a makeup artist. "Congratulations, Avery. That's one of the most positively recieved posts I've ever seen on your account."

Jameson raised an eyebrow at Avery, giving her a look that said I told you so, and Avery let go of a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. "You're not joking?"

"Have you ever known Alisa to joke?" Alisa glared at Jameson, who punctuated the statement with a smirk.

Alisa turned to Avery. "About 95% of the general public reacted well, and out of that 5% that didn't, most were teenage girls."

Avery sighed. "As expected."

With the problem mostly settled, Alisa clapped her hands. "Okay, then, onto the rest of our duties. Avery, you have a gala in about four hours. Jameson, get out."

Jameson opened his mouth to protest and then decided against it, for he closed his mouth and dropped a kiss on the top of Avery's head before leaving.

Avery turned to Alisa. "You didn't have to kick him out."

Alisa closed the door behind Jameson, before ushering Avery to the bathroom. "Once you figure out how to get your makeup on while holding a conversation with him, he'll be allowed to stay. We need you both there on time, and you take significantly longer to get ready than he does."

T-MINUS ONE HOUR (Before the gala)

Jameson wasn’t exactly one to panic, but neither was Avery. He began tapping his foot and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

Alisa had left him a selection of four ties and matching pocket squares, and Jameson assumed he was supposed to wear them with a tuxedo. He pulled out the garment bag containing the black one, and began slowly buttoning his shirt.

The sounds of Hakuna Matata filled the room while he tucked his shirt in, and Jameson sighed before picking up his phone. Xander had set his ringtone over two weeks ago; Jameson hadn't gotten around to hacking it yet.

"How are ya doin', Jamie?"

"You live three doors down, why don't you tell me?" he hung up the call.

Not two seconds later, Nash strolled into his room, wearing flannel over jeans and a band t-shirt.

"You look like a waiter. Didn’t Grayson ever teach you to dress yourself?” he took a look toward the rest of the clothing Jameson had set out to wear.

Jameson ran a hand through his hair. “I look the same. I wore this last week.” 

“And then someone asked you for champagne. And you socked them in the face.”

He then proceeded to walk into Jameson's closet -"There’s nothing wrong with what I'm wearing!" "People are gonna ask you for more caviar; Grayson told me to not let you leave the house like that."- and after rummaging for two minutes, found a waistcoat that he didn't even know existed. It was the exact color of the tie Jameson wanted to pick, but Nash procured a black tie and pocket square.

"I think this is the same color as her dress, but honestly, it's gonna be dark, who's gonna see?" Nash held up the waistcoat, as if the nonexistant light would help him see better. 

Jameson took it from him. "Have I ever worn this?"

"Maybe. You were also drinking a lot, so I doubt you or the news remembers." Nash sniffed the cloth. "You would never even know. It doesn't even smell like bourbon."

Jameson raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he began to put his tie on.. “Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

Nash crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I couldn’t tell you whether it was true or not, Jamie, you wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said.”

Jameson buttoned up his waistcoat. “A wise man takes all truths with a grain of salt.” 

“Bullshit.” Nash drew out the first syllable.

Jameson gave his brother a smirk. “Don’t you know it.” He grabbed the suit jacket and left.

1.5 HOURS IN

“Oh hello dear!” The sound of posh over-confidence crept up behind Avery, who quickly turned.

“Mrs. Anderson!” The woman was one of the slightly pushy heads of a charity created to support budding culinary minds. While incredibly specific, the charity had sent over a thousand students to culinary school, who went on to open restaurants that were all doing pretty well. Avery didn’t mind the woman; she was a lot nicer than most of the attendees, and used her reach to benefit the people who needed it. “How are you, ma’am?”

“I’m doing great, darling, but we need to talk about that dress. You look stunning!”

Avery was draped in dark red silk, covering one arm, and hugging her body until it hit her hips, where it flowed in waves, just shy of reaching the ground. The asymmetrical neckline and bottom of the skirt were covered in minimal silver embroidery-visible when the light hit just so. Alisa had shoved her in a pair of black stilettos, and curled her hair, painting her lips with the same red as her dress. A silver choker was clasped around her throat, matching her earrings and the bracelets on her left hand.

She thanked the woman, handing her a glass of champagne, and asked, “Have you heard about the charity we’re sponsoring today?”

Avery and the woman chatted for a couple of minutes as Avery convinced her to donate thousands of dollars out of pocket.

“Cancer truly is a scary thing.” Mrs. Anderson smiled softly. “I lost my husband to lung cancer. I doubt the majority of these people consider the research worth funding.”

“They think they’re untouchable.” Avery said.

“Precisely, my dear.” The woman grabbed another glass of champagne before looking behind Avery. “Oh, I must add, you and Jameson Hawthorne are a beautiful couple.”

Avery felt her cheeks heat and she looked down, but Mrs. Anderson hadn’t finished. “The amount of love you two have for each other is simply incredible. Just being in the same room as you two makes me feel like an outsider; your bond is so sweet.”

Avery paused. Same room? She turned and saw an incredibly familiar face.

Jameson Hawthorne had finally showed up. He wore a dark grey suit-so dark it was nearly black, with a waistcoat the color of wine and silver chains. His tie matched his suit jacket and his hair was artfully arranged, neat with enough personality such that he still looked like himself.

Mrs. Anderson gave Avery a soft smile. “You two look at each other like a man seeing the stars for the first time in years. If this isn’t true love, I don’t know what is!”

Avery’s lips parted. “Really?”

“Oh trust me darling, you and Jameson are something that happens once in a lifetime.” The woman winked and walked away, exchanging greetings with Jameson, who was headed Avery’s way.

She motioned towards the side of the room, and he showed up a minute later with two wineglasses.

She leaned on a pillar and he stood her to her. “You look beautiful, Heiress.” Jameson handed her the wineglass as he said the statement.

Avery smiled. “And yet, you still upstage me by millions. How has this gala gone so far?”

Jameson grimaced and drained the wineglass like a shot. “All people want to talk about is the fact that I’m ‘off the market and it’s such a shame and won’t I please put in a good word for Grayson’ - if I hear another woman tell me any of that, I’m going through the old man’s whiskey stash.”

Avery suppressed a smile and switched their glasses. She doubted she would drink the wine, and Jameson seemed like he needed it more than she did. Jameson wasn’t usually this open, and she wondered if the wine wasn’t his first drink of the night. “You seem like you’ve had fun.”

Jameson shot her a smirk. “And you should be prepared for more, Heiress,” he clinked his glass against hers, “because I believe the slow dances just started.”

For the few hours, Jameson and Avery alternated between spinning around the dance floor and resting at the bar. Their routine was occasionally interrupted by a speech, a person or both, but by the end of the night, they had raised over a million dollars to charity. The venue closed, but they stayed for an additional thirty minutes to supervise cleanup.

  It took about forty minutes to get back to Hawthorne House and once they made it to Avery’s room, she tossed her heels into her closet and sat on the nearest chair.

Avery sighed. “I am never doing this again.” She stood up and began removing her jewelry, shedding her media persona for the sake of comfort.

Jameson unzipped her dress. “I highly doubt that.”

Avery shot him a look and she had to stifle a laugh when he mirrored it.

Once they were both changed and under the covers, Avery turned to Jameson and propped her head on a hand. “Do you know what day it is?”

Jameson’s eyes glittered and Avery knew he knew the answer. “The fourteenth?”

Avery rolled her eyes. “Valentine’s Day.”

Jameson smirked. “An astute observation, Heiress. And while one AM is a perfectly reasonable time to exchange gifts and other things, I don’t think you want to leave this bed right now.”

Avery nodded. “Definitely not.”

“Then Happy Valentine’s Day, Heiress, and I’ll see you when we inevitably wake up in six hours.”

Avery laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. When they broke apart, she whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jameson.”

And if she woke up the next day with several news articles focusing on the gala (or rather its hosts), well, she was going to ignore it all and spend the entire day with her amazing boyfriend.

fin.

Alright- 2.5 thousand words later, I wish you a happy Valentine’s Day!

(or just a happy Friday if you don’t have plans like me 😄)

(dividers are from @/cafekitsune)

please like, reblog and leave feedback in the comments. Or just throw tomatoes at me. Anything works.

I also realize now that im going to keep writing even if the reception is negative, so if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

The Nine overwhelm him before he can resist, their voices a cacophony clamoring to be heard, in tones so high and low it can only be felt in the space between atoms; yet he still understands. When he screams, he collides with and splits from himself again and again and again.

PETULANT CHILD OF ZEPHYR AND MUD, YOU DARE TO DEMAND REPARATION?

What is done, cannot be undone without significant repercussion to the timeline.

Intervention is necessary - you cannot yet see - what we have

Connection = a gift from three = non-negotiable = temporary state = necessary for transition

a gift of good faith + revocation of appanage + do you desire release

K N O W Y O U R P L A C E A S A  W O R K E R I N T H E H I V E A C Q U I E S C E S T O D E S P O T O R D E R

WILL YOU COMPLY EMISSARY OR MUST JUDGEMENT REND WILL FROM BONE

Lodi grinds his teeth and presses his hands to his ears, but the noise is coming from within, vibrating his very electrons. Blood pours from his ears and down his jaw, catching in the hairs of his grown-out five-o’clock shadow before dripping onto his capelet, where it hisses and evaporates. He can barely handle all of them at once, it’s too much.

.SILENCE YOUR | GAPING MAWS. .This one|is doing us|a service. .Let us hear wha|t he has to say.

All versions of himself reassemble in a snap as the noise ceases, and the pressure in his head expands outward as his feet lift off the ground. Lodi floats up into the sky, weightless, cold, through the vacuum of Eternity, tumbling and flipping uncontrollably until his body jerks to a stop and freezes, strung up like a puppet on its strings. Above him in the distance, something unrecognizeable speaks in photons and coronal ejections. 

.what is it|starlight? .have we not adequately a|betted your adjustment?

Abetted? It’s so hard for him to remember what he wanted to say when all he can think about is how he can’t breathe but doesn’t need to. Is he still in his mind? Or is this really happening? Everything feels so real, but the laws of physics are clearly askance. He tries to straighten up but only writhes in his invisible bonds.

.come on now|out with it. .don’t|be shy.

“Orin was right then. You are allowing me to communicate with the past...? Why?”

.three surmised that|you would struggle to|adjust to your station with|out closure. .to ensure your tran|scendence we have|made allowances.

a transient agent = communication will cease

Transient? He furrows his brow. “So… it’s not permanent?”

.nothing lasts for|ever darling.

Lodi scoffs and seethes. “Then why bother letting me have this at all? You know how much I’ve already lost… how it’s affected me.” He pauses a beat and changes direction. “What good am I to you if I’m too broken to do what you need me for?”

There are other ways for us to get what we need, should you prove incapable of this task of your own accord.

His body tenses and his throat clenches. “… you mean like with Orin…”

.would you pref|er to relinquish|our gift to you?

“NO!” he shouts before they even finish the question. “… No… please… I’m not complaining, I just don’t understand… why would you allow me to get attached if you’re just going to take them away?”

we facilitated connection - in business only - it was you who decided to form an attachment

“Decided?” he laughs derisively. “Do you know nothing of humanity? People don’t decide who they get attached to, sometimes it just happens!”

irrational + inconsequential to purpose + observational query + why do you resist

“Because-“ His words catch in his throat and he waits for his nerves to settle. “… this isn’t what I signed up for and I know there’s no going back for me now, but for THEM…?” Lodi’s face drops and hardens before turning defiant eyes back to the stars. “No! You can’t do this, I won’t allow it.”

The next to speak to him lifts him higher still, presses phantom fingers into his throat. His vision darkens at the corners and starts to spin as his heart struggles to pump blood to his brain.

ALLOW? DOES THE WORM ALLOW THE MYCELLIUM TO CONSUME THAT WHICH NOURISHES THE LOAM? IT IS BEYOND YOUR ABILITY TO CONTROL.

.RELEASE|HIM FOUR. .CONTAIN|YOURSELF.

Lodi releases a cry of relief and hangs his head as his blood pressure stabilizes, feeling the need to catch his breath even though he hasn’t needed to take one since arriving.

.time is|not linear. .you see what|has already tran|spired. .past and|present. .this is p|retense. .you know you|r demand is im|possible. .you have se|en it with you|r own eyes.

He grimaces and shakes his head, unable to contain his vexation, and loosens his tongue. “So then delay it, I don’t care, do SOMETHING! Just- let them LIVE, for pete’s sake! They’ve been through ENOUGH!”

.all of whi|ch will be|forgotten.

“That doesn’t MATTER!” he sputters, voice cracking and tears in his eyes. “Human life is SACRED, you can’t just use us like pawns in your sadistic game!”

.sadis|tic? .what is one li|fe weighed again|st extinction? .this is th|e only way.

“I don’t believe you,” he insists with unflinching resolve. “Prove it.”

Lodi grits through a groan as the Nine fill his mind with what they have foreseen, in this timeline and all other potential branches, from the moments of your theoretical deaths. Millions of possibilities, splitting and entwining endlessly until they overwhelm the lucid path. He can see it all happening at once, your death is a fixed point, invariably tied to the survival of the human race- the crushed butterfly that sets off a ripple across time that cannot be stopped. Those where the Nine had left you alone, ended catastrophically for humanity, while others where they had orchestrated your death later, had ended still but without the distinct touch of horrors from the others. Systematically, these alternate timelines are pruned, until one truth remains: that humanity only survives if they intervene in your life where they already have. 

By the time the sideshow ends, tears stream down Lodi’s face, but he doesn’t cry or whinge. He understands there’s no point in tiring himself out by continuing to fight the current, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t devastated by the revelation. The Nine release him, and his body lowers in slow descent and comes to rest on his knees in the sand, where he sits onto his heels then collapses forward onto his elbows, clenching his hands into balled fists around the shifting grains. 

.we suggest you ma|ke the most of your|time while you can. 

“Wait .”

Lodi struggles to summon what little strength he has left, and pushes himself upright onto one wobbly hand so he can look up into the sky. “If you won’t change their fate, at least let me give them a proper send-off. Open the connection, all the way. Don’t hold back.” He wanted so badly to save you from befalling the same fate as he and Nella, but he knows now can’t save you anymore than he can save himself; but at the very least, he could give you a better end.

The delegate Nine lets out a low hum of approval, and a warm gust brushes across Lodi’s cheek.

.my littl|e martyr. .so eager to self|immolate to warm the|bosons of another. .we will gra|nt you this. .and only th|is request. .but do not neg|lect your dut|ies on Kepler. .or we will|rescind it.

He’s returned to the same moment from which he was stolen, and you’ve barely even finished saying your name when he comes back to his senses, a haunted look in his eyes.

Louis?

Lodi doesn’t know where to even start with what he’s just experienced. He’s still processing the trauma of seeing an endless epoch of humanity’s potential ends, and somehow at the center of it all, you ; he’s barely breathing, and what does leave his lungs is petrified with dread. It takes almost a minute for his eyes to focus, and when they do, all he can see is a ticking clock counting down how much time he has left before the Nine cut him off. What were you even talking about…? He can barely remember.

Oh, yes, your name.

He reaches out one hand, waits for you to take it, then clasps the other over the top and gives it a firm shake with a conflicted smile. “Pleasure to meet you.” Knowing what he does now, there’s no time to waste grieving what hasn’t yet happened. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

You smile and return the gesture. It seems silly shaking hands for the first time. I think we’re well past that by now.

He chuckles and leans back onto the grass on his elbows, gazing up at the starry sky as it comes into clearer view. At least the Nine are holding up their end of the bargain. “You know- this is the second time in the last week that that’s happened. My introductions aren’t usually so informal.”

Mine are, you say, laying down in the grass beside him and laying your hands over your belly. I prefer to skip pleasantries, something about forcing scripted conversation is just so… impersonal.

“I prefer to call it respectful,” he says, his thoughts drifting to how consistent he had to be with Nella to get her to even give him the time of day. “Not everyone you meet wants to get personal right away. You have to give them time to warm up.”

Unlike someone I know, you tease. So are you saying you’d rather I ask you questions that are a little less “personal”?

The space around you in your communal daydream continues to slowly reveal itself, and he realizes you’re lakeside in his memories. He only hopes you can see it too. Louis turns his head to look at you with a boyish grin. “I mean… that is how you get to know someone.”

Your eyes drift out of focus, then away and around as the daydream solidifies for you. Where are we…?

“Home,” he says with a hint of nostalgia. “My family used to spend a lot of time at this lake during the summer.”

It’s beautiful, you murmur, sitting upright and leaning over curled knees to get a better view. What was your favorite thing to do?

The words start to catch in his throat but he swallows them down. “I used to fish with my brother, the kids liked to swim and play tag with water balloons. My mama would make the best damn walleye ceviche you’ll ever have.”

That sounds so wonderful. You smile, radiant and comforting, and close your eyes. I used to deep-sea fish with my pop… fish tacos were more his thing but, he did make a pretty great shrimp ceviche.

There are tears in his eyes again, and he tries his best to hide the trembling in his breath. Lodi understands why it had to be you, but he wishes it didn’t. “You seem like you know a fair bit about chicanos.”

I mean… You shrug as your voice trails off, and you lean back with your hands behind your body. I’m not fluent in Spanish, and I’ve never been part of any Latino holiday celebrations- but I grew up two hours from the border, where the population was quite dense. And well, my first serious boyfriend—and girlfriend—both came from Mexican families.

His brows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”

Yeah. She lived in Mexico, and his dad was white but his mom’s side was traditional- first gathering with his whole family was… overwhelming. It’s not my culture, but to say it hasn’t had an impact on my development would be a lie. You pause and twiddle your fingers timidly, before shifting your eyes away from him. I even took a Salsa and Swing class in college for fun… they taught us how to Cha-cha and Merengue too.

“So you know how to dance then?” he asks, eyes sparkling with interest.

You laugh. It’s been years, but yes.

“Did your partner ever dance with you?”

Some of the light leaves your eyes as you shake your head and lay back down in the grass. Only our first dance at our wedding… I could never get him to after that.

“Well that just won’t do,” he declares, offended on your behalf. “What kind of man won’t dance with their partner?”

Most men these days, you admit with a slight grimace. Unfortunately, the bar is in hell, so finding a man that is patient, kind, emotionally mature, and wants to dance is like finding a unicorn.

Lodi screams internally at his misfortune. It’s far too painful to think about what could have been, had you been born in the same time period, but he can’t help it because you’re just the kind of person he would have loved to bring home to meet his family. You would have fit in so naturally.

Louis?

You pull him from his thoughts, and when he looks at you again, you’ve rolled closer on your side, face inches from his. His heart leaps to his throat and he swallows it down but it just continues to race dizzying circles in his chest, which only worsens when you inch your hand over and graze his chin with the backs of your knuckles. Lodi takes in a small, sharp breath and closes his eyes, then relaxes on the exhale as you continue to trace them across the stubble of his beard. He’d never realized how touch-starved he was until now, how even the smallest gestures supported the weight of years of loneliness and the freshest grief. Despite being lost in his own thoughts, it doesn’t get past him how long the silence pervades.

“¿Que le preocupa? ”

You say nothing but he can hear you struggling to find the words, feel the quiver traveling up your arm from your body.

I would have really loved to date you properly.

Did he just hear you correctly?

When he opens his eyes you’re staring into them, raising his internal temperature. Fear warns against further attachment, but he’s more afraid of missing out on something good. Lodi rolls to fully face you, shifts and pulls the glove off one of his hands, then reaches up to curl it around yours.

“It's enough just to know you now.”

He threads his fingers, presses the warmth of his palm to the back of your hand, and looks back into your eyes fervently. The way your eyelids flutter and your eyes well up at this gesture embolden him, but he waits, out of courtesy. What you have is real enough, you said it yourself just a few days prior, and he knows you still believe it by the way you falter and inch closer. 

But this can’t last, you say after half a minute. We can’t have a life together, you’ll never meet my family or friends, and I’ll never meet yours- at some point, this will end, and we’ll have to go back to our real lives and move on.

“Of course,” he agrees, eyes flickering down to your nose, your cheeks, your lips, then back up. “But, that doesn’t mean we can’t make the best of the time we have.”

You withdraw slightly, and he can see the tension in your body language. He isn’t sure what he did, but his stomach knots and he backpedals nervously. “Sorry… too much?”

No, you assure, which does put him at ease, It’s not you, it’s just-… You pause for what feels like an eternity before saying what you want to say. I’m scared.

Louis can’t possibly fathom being married for that long and having to re-enter the dating pool again. It’s been years since he was even able to hold down a stable relationship between college and his job at the DEO, so he understands the need for taking time for yourself.

All I know right now is, you’re the kindest man I’ve met in a very long time, and it’s not just a mask, which is why I like you so much. You smile at him with adoration he’s only ever seen from a few women in his life, and it makes him want this even more. I’m healing but I’m still unhealed. The last thing I want is to jump into a relationship too soon and end up hurting you.

“I don’t think you will,” he says in a way that makes you think he knows something you don’t, “but remember what I said before?”

You sigh, though he can tell it’s just a self-soothing behavior. Leave it up to you to decide?

“That’s right,” he says in a gentle tone, and reaches up to brush the backs of his fingertips across your cheek. “You’ve said your piece, so now it’s up to me to decide whether or not you’re worth the risk.”

Your eyes flit away nervously despite trying to focus on him. Do you need time to form a conclusion or…?

Lodi tilts his head and gives into the quiet as he watches you wait with bated breath, but doesn’t make you wait too long for an answer. Just long enough that he doesn’t seem desperate. He returns the adoring grin you’d given him earlier.

“I think I would have loved to introduce you to my family, were it possible." There’s a profound sadness in his eyes as he admits this, and his voice falters when he adds, “They would have loved you.”

Your eyes well up as your cheeks flush, you return the smile, close your eyes, and lean your cheek heavily into his hand. You would have got on with my family really well too, you say, then laugh at the thought. I think my dad would have actually liked you.

“That’s high praise,” he grins.

It is, he’s really traditional.

Silence settles between you again, this time more comfortable, and so close your noses would touch if you just lifted your chin or craned your neck. Louis continues to stroke his fingertips across your forehead, over your cheek, and down your jawline. “So, dinner’s out of the question, but we could go to the record store.”

We could still share recipes… and watch movies.

“Y bailas conmigo.”

You sprout a big, bashful smile. Yes please, I’m really excited to.

“Well, it’s getting late for you,” he reminds, “You should get home before you fall asleep in your car.”

Ugh, thank you for reminding me… I don’t want to leave yet, but I should.

Lodi cracks an understanding smile. He doesn’t want you to leave either. “I’ll see you again in a few days.”

Hopefully sooner, you say as you hover above him, looking down, and reach to run your fingers through his hair. You’re the best part of my week right now.

His heart flutters again and he closes his eyes with a relaxed sigh. It’s been far too long since he’s felt so wanted. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Your nose brushes alongside his and before he has time to react, he feels your lips pressed to his in a soft, lingering kiss that draws out a quiet whimper and sets him alight from the inside out. 

Everything inside of him sings, your electrons harmonize with his across time. This moment is then but also now, and always is- not temporary, but eternal. He feels it now.

Lodi’s bare hand reaches up to cradle the back of your neck, just to let you know he wants more, but it’s your call. He expects you to break away but at this you lean in a little more and sigh against his lips. How badly he wishes he could call you his.

Your lips part but you stay like this, a breath away, for several moments more, until he finally opens his eyes and looks up into yours with newfound confidence curling at the corners of his lips.

“Hello to you too.”

You bite your lip and glance away. That was okay then?

Lodi sits up and pulls you onto his lap, leans forward and presses his forehead to yours as he gazes deep into your eyes. “¿Qué te parece?”

You blush again and stifle a little laugh. I should really get going.

He chuckles and squeezes his hands over your thighs. “!Orale! Before you get stuck here for good,” he teases as you feign an exasperated sigh, stand and brush yourself off.

Sí, Señor, ya me voy.

Louis can’t help but bawl at your flawless pronunciation. A big, goofy grin breaks across his face and his heart swells with pride. “¿Que fue eso? ¿Hablaste español? ¡Que buena pronunciación! Di ostra cosa, rapido-“

Sorry, you’re just going to have to wait, you chuckle and flick your fingertips under his chin to scratch at his beard, sending a shiver down his spine. It’s gonna take time to come back to me.

“We’ll have to practice then. For now, get home safely.” He knows you will, but he says it anyway.

I will, see you soon.

You disappear from his memory, leaving him alone by the lakefront, but not lonely. This time he sees his brother fishing by the shore, his niece and nephew chasing each other, their laughter echoing like they were here just yesterday. He smells the smoke from the grill, hears his mother chopping vegetables and sees his brother’s wife painting the sunset through the trees. 

And above it all, he can hear a song from one of his old records.

Por eso tú

Tú serás me baby

Solo tú, mi baby

Baby de mi alma, oh-uoh-uoh-uoh

Books were a solace for you, one of the few you could find, especially after your brother ran off to god knows where and your mother went off in search of him just a few months ago. After your father passed away three years ago, your brother felt it necessary to be the “man of the house” and make sure you and your mother were taken care of. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his protection and watchful eye, but he could be a little extreme at times. Your father died just over a year ago, and it was hard on all of you. Perhaps your brother took it a bit harder since he never showed his sadness about it… only his anger. See, your father was killed by some raiders on one of his outings to get more supplies. Your brother was with him when it happened but managed to escape. You were almost one hundred percent sure that was where your brother had gone; looking for your father’s killers.

Unfortunately, that had been just over four months ago. A few days ago your mother grew sick of it and went to try and find your brother, leaving you all alone. You knew how to protect yourself and make sure the house was protected and hidden, but that didn’t mean you liked being alone or that you didn’t worry every day about your missing family. In fact, it made it worse.

You felt your patience and sanity wearing thin as the days went on and you heard nothing from your mother or brother. You were worried sick, the only things keeping you from running off by yourself were tending to the farm and the chickens, checking on the water filter, reading your books, really anything to distract you from the inevitable truth;that your family was dead. 

One day, you were out tending to the livestock and farms for most of the day. It was starting to get dark and mostly everything was done, so it was about time to head inside for the night. As soon as you opened the door, you could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slightly larger, sandy footprints through the hallway, or the way that everything around you seemed to stand still, either way you knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough. Even with your added paranoia from being alone for a few days, your reflexes couldn’t have prepared you enough for the sight of a man… no, a ghoul, lounging at your dining table. Seat pulled back, feet on the table, fingers lazily playing with the trigger of the sawed off shotgun that was pointed directly at you. 

Part of his face was obscured by a ragged hat, but you could still tell that he was a ghoul, his face covered in scars, red and shiny from the radiation. He slowly lifted his head, dark eyes shining in the setting sun streaming through the window, the black hole where his nose should have been even more prominent as his gaze slowly trailed from your muddy boots up your bare legs (you wanted to wear shorts, it was hot out), across your curves until they finally landed on your face, lingering on your parted lips for a moment too long in your opinion. 

Your eyes, on the other hand, kept on moving between his ruined face to the gun pointed at you in quick succession, not knowing which to focus on more. Before you could think of doing anything else, he finally spoke.

“Well, sweetheart, seems you found yourself in quite the predicament here.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like they were practiced, used, normal for him to utter. That nickname too, so antagonizing and belittling with just two syllables. It made your blood boil… not like that… right?

You attempted to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes still flicking between the barrel of the gun and the ruined face before you. Your very apparent lack of thoughts and speech only made the ghoul chuckle. It was a deep sound, like a rumble of the earth during a thunderstorm, the vibrations running all through your body, unyielding to the forces that surround you. 

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

The question was not meant to be answered, in fact it made all semblance of words leave your mouth entirely. He stood up then, the spurs on his boots startling you as he took step after step closer to you, the gun in his hand hanging loosely at his side. At first, you didn’t move, but as he got closer, you took a fearful step back, not realizing until it was too late that he maneuvered you in such a way as he was getting closer so now your back was flush against the wall. The ghoul was close now, too close, so close you could feel his body heat, the stench of his breath from his yellowed mouth, the gunpowder and cigarettes and booze that lingered on him like a haze after a fire. He was terrifying. 

You let out a pathetic squeak as the end of his shotgun found its place underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make sure you looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes weren’t an evil yellow or filled with contempt, they were a deep brown, a soft brown, and they were filled with an emotion you really could not place. The position you were in was compromising, with his face inches from your own (his hips inches from your own). And that look in his eyes. Why couldn’t you figure it out?

The cool metal of the gun felt as if it was burning you as he tipped your head back just a bit more, his dark eyes focused on yours, “Ain’t you just a sweet little thing, all alone, no way of protectin’ yourself.” You did have a way of protecting yourself, it was called booby traps that he somehow managed to get by, but you bit your tongue. 

“What do you want with me?” You managed to speak that one question that was burning in your mind in spite of the shivers of fear that ran down your spine as your chin moved the shotgun touching it.

At that little comment from you, the ghoul smirked like the bastard he was, “Well you see, missy,” You felt a surge of relief followed quickly by terror again as the gun left your chin only to trail down your neck and land on the collar of your tank top, a collar that was already pretty low cut (again, it was hot). The barrel caught in the fabric as he continued to speak, “I have it on good information that this little abode of yours happens to also be the home of a stupid boy who crossed paths with the wrong man.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Your fucking brother, off doing who knows what, stirring up the worst kind of trouble. He wanted to avenge your father, you knew that, but did he not think? Of course he didn’t. He thought it would be all unicorns and daisies as he tracked down a pack of murderers. Why would he think twice about the trouble that would bring onto you?

“Look, I–” You gave a dry swallow as the gun at your chest pushed further beneath your shirt, just shy away from tugging it to the side and taking a peek. “You’re looking for my brother, right? I-I don’t know where he is. He left months ago and then my mother–” You cut yourself off, you didn’t want your mother caught up as this bounty hunter’s prey as well.

The ghoul cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face even as the gun moved the fabric of your tank top to the side, your cleavage very obviously there for the looking. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart. Please, tell me more about your dear mama.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized they even formed in the first place. Why did this have to happen? You were blessed, you knew that, with this home and your family, but that didn’t mean you had to have horrible things happen to you as well. You already lost your father, your brother and mother were gone, but you didn’t do anything. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed the tears as they trailed down your face, a twisted pleasure running through him as he watched them. You were too sweet for this world, too sweet for a man like him to find you all alone like this. 

Without much extra thought, you felt the ghoul position his leg between yours, the rough material of his pants around his thigh immediately rubbing against the cloth covering your bottom half. The movement caught you off guard and another gasp of surprise left your mouth, a fresh wave of tears trailing down your face. So that was what he wanted… Growing up you learned what it was that made babies, the simple things like that, but you were sheltered, never leaving your home or the confines of your land, much preferring to stay with your family and not venture out into the dangerous unknown. And it was made dangerous because men, of things, like him.

“Awh, what is it, darlin’?” You heard the gun click into its holster at his side, one hand moving to grip your hip with a strength that really shouldn’t have shocked you, the other moving towards your face, his gloved thumb swiping at the tears gathering there. You mewled again as his thigh moved, the rough fabric causing unwanted friction in an unwanted place. “You scared of little ol’ me?”

“Please,” The fear you felt before only grew as the realization dawned on you. He wanted information and he knew the only way of getting it out of you would be to hurt you… but that didn’t have to mean just cuts and bruises, especially for a man like him. “Please don’t do this. I- I don’t know anything else.” 

You knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. You just wanted to protect your mother, and maybe you could convince him of that. At least, you hoped you could. 

The ghoul moved the hand on your face down, resting on the collar of your shirt, “Sweetheart, you really don’t know how the world works out there, do ya?” His face moved closer to yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, “It’s eat or be eaten, darlin’, and you ain’t telling me what I wanna know.”

“But-” You hiccuped as fresh tears left your eyes, “But I don’t know anythi–”

A sharp gasp that bordered on a scream escaped you as the hand at your hip left to join the other one and a loud ripping sound invaded your senses, your tank top now ripped clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to him.

Damn, your skin was so soft. Not a scar on your body, just some dirt and scrapes from working outside. The sweat from the sun still lingered on your skin, making it glow, and that scent, it alone was enough to make a ghoul go feral. But he could stave off that feeling if he found a way to get rid of it. 

The ghoul’s eyes found yours again in spite of your breasts being right there. “Sweet thing,” God you hated how small his nicknames made you feel. “I don’t think you’re understandin’ still. I got a bounty to find, you know how to find ‘em, and, well, I know a fun way to get it outta ya.” 

At that last comment you felt the rough leather of his gloves finally touch your breast, squeezing and toying with them in a way you never thought possible. His hands were everywhere, twisting, rough, strong, it made your skin sweat and your back arch. You whimpered as he tugged at your nipples, the pain mixed with a different feeling, one that didn’t feel that bad. As your back arched, your hips unintentionally bumped against his and you felt something hard poke at you. Your eyes widened in shock, the nice feeling from before immediately dissipating as your situation dawned on you again. With that thought, a renewed vigor filled you, your hand clenching in a fist that was raised and swung at the monster’s face. 

Your punch landed with a loud thud but to your horror he didn’t even flinch, just stopped his ministrations on your breasts to glare at you, his anger radiating off of him in waves. 

A cruel smirk grew on his scarred face, “There’s that fight I was looking for.”

His sentence was punctuated with a harsh slap across your face, the force making your vision blink out for a couple of seconds as your head swung to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth and felt a strong hand grip your jaw, harshly moving your head so that it faced him again. 

“You wanna try that again, sweetheart, or are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know?”

Despite your fear and the knowledge that this man, this ghoul, could kill you in a matter of seconds, it would take more than that to get you to give up your mother and brother to him. With that thought in mind, you gathered up some of the blood in your mouth and spit at him, the red liquid splattering over his already reddened face. 

The hand at your jaw moved to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort and fear that he could do much worse. You watched in horror as his free hand then moved to gather up some of the blood on his face, the finger now sticky and shiny with it moving to his mouth as he licked it clean, a face of pure pleasure overcoming him as he tasted you. 

“You taste sweeter than apple pie,” Your throat was squeezed tighter as his face grew closer to yours, his missing nose making it easier to invade your space. “And that just makes me wanna taste you even more.”

His head immediately moved to your neck where you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his hand moved to grab at your face to keep you from moving. You squirmed in his grasp as you felt a rough tongue drag against your skin, the feeling foreign to you. It seemed like he really was tasting you, licking at the sweat and grime that coated your skin, savoring the taste. Your body tried to wriggle free, a scream warbled by the grip he had on your cheeks as you felt the blunt ends of his teeth bite deep into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The force in which he bit down was sure to leave a mark, the abused flesh turning red and irritated almost immediately. 

You wanted to pass out right then and there, your mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to you next. He lingered at your neck for a moment before giving it one last swipe of his tongue and returning to look you dead in the eyes, a wicked smile on his scarred skin. Your face was smushed together by his gloved hand and you watched as his gaze traveled back to your neck, back to the mark he left there. His hand quickly followed that gaze, trailing over the mark before gripping your throat again. You saw as the thoughts and emotions raced behind his eyes but you didn’t know where they would lead.

Without any more warning, the ghoul used the hand on your throat to swing you around, slamming your back onto the table. You tried to get out from under him, swinging your arms and legs wildly, screaming (not that anyone would hear you), trying to land a punch or a kick, anything to get away. The ghoul grabbed a hold of your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the table above your head as his free hand went to his waist, grabbing the shotgun from its holster and pointing at your face once again. 

Your struggle stopped the moment you heard the holster pop open, your terror growing tenfold as you knew at this distance, one simple slip of his finger would cause your entire head to explode off your body. The ghoul’s smirk was horrible, devilish, and it turned your blood ice cold. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to you until it brushed against your pursed lips still stained red from your blood.

You knew what he wanted you to do, but you couldn’t, the thought making you want to die on the spot. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, though, the barrel pushing against your lips more roughly.

“Open wide, darlin’” His voice was dark, gravely, filled with irritation but also wild interest, or perhaps lust. “You really don’t wanna make me even more angry.”

You looked deep into his eyes, the flakes of red across his face from your blood making him appear even more frightening, even more like a monster only seen in children’s stories. You knew if you hesitated any longer he’d be more than happy to pull the trigger and blow your head clean off. Your vision grew blurry as more tears formed, your mouth opening just the slightest amount to allow for the gun to slide past your lips. The taste of metal and gunpowder made you want to gag, your eyes finding the dark ones above you as a slow exhale of breath left the ghoul’s mouth, his gaze transfixed on the way his gun slid deep into your mouth.

“Ain’t that a sight,” He spoke in a low tone, voice filled with fascination.

The gun moved deeper into your mouth, the taste giving way to pain as it pushed against the back of your throat, your mouth wrapping painfully around it, stretching it in uncomfortable ways. You felt it begin to leave your mouth before pushing back in, the slow fucking of your throat by a gun making your tears only increase, the gaging sensation becoming more prominent. You tried to move your arms, to get the gun out of your mouth, but his grip was too strong, his fascination with the scene he created too enticing for him to stop. You felt a hard poke against your thighs as they draped over the end of the table and were pinned by the ghoul’s strong body. You continued to gag around the gun as he fucked it faster and rougher into your face, his breaths becoming louder above you. The hard poke from before rubbed against your thigh as he continued, unprovoked, or perhaps more enticed by your tears and the pathetic sounds attempting to leave around the thick barrel of his gun.

“It’s a damn good thing you ain’t out in the real world, pretty lady. You woulda been eaten right up the moment someone laid eyes on ya.” 

His final comment was finished as the gun was shoved further down your throat, a garbled scream rising from you only to be smothered by the metal. He finally removed the weapon from your mouth, saliva making the metal glisten in the dying light from the sun outside. Your cheeks felt burning hot, covered in your tears and sweat as you were given some reprieve from his assault. 

The ghoul looked over his gun, that same bastardly smirk still prominent on his face as he placed it back in its holster, leaving your spit still on it. “Now that was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart,” You tried to glare at him, but didn’t dare speak, your mouth too sore and abused. Your small fight made the ghoul chuckle again, the hand holding your wrists dragging you up from the table with a harsh yank. His face was inches from yours again as he held you in the air, the only thing keeping you from falling was his grip on your hands and his hips digging into yours against the table. “Wanna tell me where you dear mama is now?”

So this torture was still to get information out of you. You loved your mother, you couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up so easily just to save your own skin. 

“Fuck you.” Your voice was strained, your throat throbbing in pain at each syllable. 

“I hoped you’d say that.” With a shove, he threw you to the floor, moving to stand over you. With your limbs finally free, you scrambled to get away, but he was too quick, one heeled boot slamming down on your leg with enough force to stun you. You screamed out in pain, eyes going wide as you watched him reach for his belt, foot still pressed against your leg, keeping you from moving. His hands worked slowly, the terror building up in you at each passing second. His belt came off far too quickly followed by the button of his pants. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see where this was going. You heard the rustle of fabric as the ghoul removed his foot from your leg and went to straddle you, strong thighs on either side of your hips, one hand slammed against the floor beside your head, the other grabbing your jaw in a vice-like grip. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” You hesitated before giving in as his grip strengthened to the point of pain, making you gasp and your eyes fly open. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.”

The tears never seemed to stop, his hand leaving your jaw only to rip your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh tug, the fabric burning against your too sensitive skin. You didn’t dare look down, your gaze staying fixed on his, hoping that if you didn’t look then it wasn’t actually going to happen. 

In spite of your prayers, you felt the rough leather of a gloved finger run through your folds, a sharp intake of breath the only sound you made. Your attempts at staying quiet were soon overcome as his finger found that secret spot just at the top of your cunt, the roughness of the glove and the fear that was coursing through your blood made it even more sensitive and a small mewl of discomfort left your lips. 

The ghoul continued to rub at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake, the sounds escaping your throat enough to make your skin boil in shame. “C’mon, pretty lady, do ya really wanna make this harder on yourself?” He went to whisper in your ear again, his fingers working magic against you. “I can make this feel so good for ya, just tell me what I wanna hear.”

Your hips began to buck against his hand, your moans growing louder as his thumb remained on your clit, one finger entering your cunt and it was like you were seeing stars. You had never done anything like this before, never really had the chance to. You experimented by yourself of course, but having someone else do it to you? It was on a whole other level. 

You chased your peak like it was the only thing standing in the way of your survival, your hips shaking, mouth agape, eyes still fixed on the dark ones above you. You were so close. You could feel it building, boiling over–

A pathetic cry left you as he removed his hand, bringing it up to his face as he inspected the wetness now coating his fingers. With that same hand he gripped your cheeks, your own fluids coating your face, the scent invading your senses. 

“I said I could make ya feel good, but you haven’t given me anythin’ in return yet.” His tone was so cocky, so arrogant, and yet it sent warmth shooting down to your core, unbidden and unwelcome to your mind, but it was received with exaltation as it fueled the slowly dying fire within you. 

“Please–” It was pathetic, you knew that, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying please to, please stop, please don’t stop, please let me come mr ghoul sir?

Your desire was partially snuffed out as you felt something large and warm slap against your stomach. The suddenness of it made you forget to not look down as your gaze landed on the ghoul’s cock. It was big, the skin red and irritated, scarred from the radiation, just like the rest of his body. As much as the pleasure he was giving you before felt amazing, you couldn’t take that thing. 

“That can’t fit,” You spoke hurriedly, the fear taking hold once more. “Please, I-I don’t know anything! I can’t help you, just please don’t put that in me.” Your sobs grew hysterical, tears free flowing, incoherent mumbles leaving you. “Sweetheart, you really think I care?” 

He was cruel, he was a monster, a horrible, despicable monster.

The ghoul reached for his discarded belt, using it to tie your wrists together above your head as you tried to squirm away from him again. And you watched in terror as one of his hands guided the head of his cock to hit against your opening, the other hand roaming down your neck to grab at your breasts again. The tip of him tried to get inside of you and you already felt like you would die right there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are tight.” His gaze left his cock and moved to look at you again, “You never been fucked before, have ya?”

Your blabberings and the fear in your eyes was enough of an answer for him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d find a cunt as sweet as yours in this place.” He finally managed to push in, the pain was horrible, it made your insides burn, your mind going blank. “Makes me wanna stay here just a bit longer, still gotta know where your little shit of a brother is afterall.”

Your mind was gone, overcome with pain as he pushed more of his length into you, heedless of your squirming, your tears, the resistance he felt as he kept on going deeper and deeper. 

It was horrible, you were glad your brain tried to block out other thoughts, albeit in vain as he pulled out just to slam back into you, fully sheathed in your tight cunt. 

“You’re gripping me like a vice, darlin’, I dunno if I can even get out.” He gave a soft chuckle at that, punctuated with a sharp tug from your warmth only to shove it back in at a brutal pace. 

You couldn't take it, couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to you. Distantly, you heard as his gloves came off, the rough skin of his fingers grabbing your hip with enough strength to form bruises while the other other arm braced against the floor beside your head, using it as leverage to rut into you. Your legs were splayed around his, your back scraping against the wooden floor, digging sharp lines into your skin. 

You could faintly hear quiet sounds escape the man above you as he fucked you, his arms moving to grab your legs, bending them until your knees were beside your head, allowing him to reach even deeper into you. The head of his cock felt like a nail was being hammered into your cervix with each thrust. Your glazed eyes wandered down to see where you were joined and a jolt of horror ran through you. Each time he rammed into you, your belly bulged up a bit, it was like he was rearranging your insides to make more room for him. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed yours and a louder grunt left him, one hand leaving your leg to press against the bulge on your belly. “Darlin’, you’re just too good for this fucked up world.”

The house was filled with the noises of flesh meeting flesh, your eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling his thrusts continued. You didn’t want to think, to feel, to exist anymore. But the ghoul has other plans. Your face scrunched up as you felt a textured finger find your clit once more, rubbing it in all the right ways to make your mind snap back into focus. The pleasure was building again, each snap of his hips mixed with the bundle of nerves at your center being played with and you were reaching that peak again. Your moans intermingling with the slapping of flesh on flesh, you didn’t want to reach that crest and fall over it, you didn’t want this encounter to feel good for you too, but by god it did.

Your voice was raw as it screamed out, your pleasure pushed over the edge as you came, your thighs coating with your fluids, the noises becoming even more obscene as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Goddamn, you are just too fucking good.”

His hands gripped your hips as his pace quickened but lost its rhythm. You knew he was getting close and the overstimulation of being fucked through and beyond your orgasm was making it hard to think of anything other than him. His hips finally stopped pistoning into you, giving one last, rough thrust as something hot and sticky filled you up, leaking out around his cock that remained in you. 

The ghoul braced his hands on either side of your head, his eyes zeroed in on yours, breath heavy, sweat on his brow. “You gonna help me out now, sweetheart?”