#man i really did not think this would be this long

[periprose]

Sweet as Nuka Cola

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader

You're an upcoming actress who has a constant flirtation with Cooper Howard. But even if things seem to be off to a good start, a nuclear bomb, a cryogenic pod, and two hundred years of carnage ruins all of it. Is there something to be salvaged from your relationship with Mr. Howard?

Genre: Mutual pining, flirting, slow-burn, angst, friends to kind-of enemies to lovers (no cheating but maybe it's a little murky?)

Word Count: 11k

“Action!”

“Hello. Yes, it’s me.” You wave at the camera, adorned in a classic-red sweetheart neckline dress. “You might know me from ‘Girls Want It All’ or ‘Next Door Babe.’”

Here, you play up your recent bombshell status. As Ed, the director of this advert, keeps reminding you, you need to sell yourself to make customers listen.

You sway in your dress, squeezing your arms and throwing your waist back to plump and push out your chest. The implication of the sex appeal in your movies keeps people watching.

But you’re still a rather new actress, so America might not know you so well. You’re glad Nuka Cola has hired you– if you want to be a star, you need more exposure.

“Do you enjoy feeling refreshed?” You cock your head to the camera, pursing your red lips. “Well, golly, what a silly question. Who doesn't?”

“That's where Nuka Cola comes in.” You lift a bottle out of the cooler next to you, all gentle in demeanour, showing off the logo of the bottle to the camera, in your perfectly manicured hands. “With triple the amount of caffeine found in competitor's bottled cola, it's sure to keep you feeling up for a long, long time.”

“And it's good for you.” Ed whispers, a last minute adlib you did not agree to, but you're a professional, so you add it on with a little wink.

“And it sure as heck is good for you.” You smile, the infamous smile that's won you notoriety to Hollywood execs for being the newest bombshell on the block, and you throw your shoulders back as you really lean into your image. 

“Cut! That's a wrap, everyone!” Ed, wanting to finish early, quickly starts ushering everyone out so not a cent more gets spent. 

You immediately relax out of your practised, professional smile. “Any ADR needed?”

“Don't think so, but we'll let you know.” The director is already moving onto whatever his next project is. Advertisements make more money than anything else these days.

You head over to catering, where you're craving– not a Nuka Cola, considering how much sugar is in that thing it's hardly refreshing at all– but an iced tea. 

You stretch out your ankles in your kitten heels as you prepare it. If you told your Ma back in Mojave that the worst thing about fame would be the uncomfortable outfits, she'd smack you. So you keep it to yourself– you're grateful, you're humble, you'll never be an entitled asshole like those fucking execs.

“Watch out, I'm behind ya.” A man gently presses your shoulder as he walks next to you.

You know that voice. Famous movie cowboy, devilishly handsome, easy to admire. A career worth emulating.

“Mr. Howard?” You turn to look at him, and it is him. Wearing a tuxedo suit, smiling his classic, rugged grin at you.

“The one and the only.” He laughs in a self-deprecating way, as a man tired with his fame and used to mocking it. “Hey, wait, don't I know you?”

You immediately feel your face heat up. “Probably not– lots of people have mistaken me for Lucky Yates so far…”

“No, I do know you.” He points a finger at you, while pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “I told you mister, I'm not here for a long time. Just a good one, and if you can't provide it for me, I'll be inclined to look elsewhere.”

Cooper Howard does a perfect impression of your girly, haughty tone from “Girls Want It All”, and it surprises you that he even knows your dialogue that well. You're not used to this much attention, especially not from one of Hollywood's most notable movie stars.

He says your name.

“Yeah, that's me.” You say sheepishly– even though you know you have to fake that confidence, it's hard when you've been caught off guard. You're starstruck– you don't know how to operate, now realizing that even celebrities are noticing you. “Just shooting an ad for Nuka-Cola.”

“Ah, that’s smart of you.” He leans in– about to give you a bit of Hollywood advice, no doubt– and you feel yourself turning warm at the attention he’s giving you. “I wouldn’t expect any less from one of Hollywood’s upcoming stars– residuals aren’t enough to make the world go round.”

You know he’s admiring your street smarts, but you have to ask. “Upcoming, really?”

“Miss, I’m not sure many other actresses could’ve delivered that little monologue I just did without, er, pardon my language,” Cooper takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes peering down at you over the perimeter of the cup. “Fucking it up. Pantomiming too much wily, feminine shit  that execs love, without that little edge of real, subtle emotion. I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

You giggle a little. “C’mon, really? I hardly got to act the way I wanted to.”

“That’s how it starts. Little moments, little subtleties where you’re letting your real character shine through– it’s noticeable to the industry. More opportunities come that way. But it’s smart to use, uh…” Cooper swallows, a tiny, imperceptible thing that reminds you of your bombshell image, that he must be thinking about it. “Smart to use such attractive imagery, if you get my drift. The public will eat you up.”

The way he drawls that latter part makes you feel excited, but you keep it down– it’s well known Cooper Howard is a married man, and you are not about to be ruined by an affair. Even if he does sound sort of flirty, this sort of complimenting is so common in Hollywood.

“What are you doing in the advertisement shooting lot?” You ask, changing the subject, and Cooper shrugs, a nonchalant ripple of a movement that tells you his general cool demeanour isn’t just acting.

“Promised my wife I’d shoot an advert for her. Vault-Tec, you know?” He admits, telling you he hasn’t forgotten about his wife, either. “Gotta head to the experimental Vault they’ve set up next door.”

“Yes, of course.” You, like anyone else, have seen the ads of Cooper in the Vault-Tec suit– it’s a rather controversial thing to be partaking in, but you think he knows what he’s doing.

“Well, Nuka-Cola.” He hands you an iced tea– one you didn’t even notice him making for you as you were talking to him. “I’ll see you around.”

/

The Ghoul walks around the wasteland, two hundred something years into the future.

He’s searching for a bounty– Leopold St. West– worth at least 1000 caps, and it’s terribly difficult to find him when every single person claims he’s in all these different locations, not a single one correlated to each other.

So he’s walking around a destroyed neighbourhood, where Leopold was last seen a day ago, if his fellow ghouls are to be trusted. If he had to guess, these are the remnants of China Town– the faux Asian-esque details, the cheesy red colouring, the false authenticity Hollywood loves to portray as “good as the real thing”. God, Coop does not miss some parts of the fame.

He suddenly stumbles over a piece of the broken sidewalk. Coop’s usually pretty agile, nonchalant on his feet– he knows this feeling. He’s going through withdrawal.

“Shit, I need a minute.” He mutters to himself, feeling a bit woozy.

He's only got a couple more vials of drugs, so he can't be using them all willy-nilly. No, he needs to recoup things and go through this carefully.

Shelter is necessary– the longer Coop is out in the sun, the harsher the effects of withdrawal feel. And, if he’s lucky, one of these buildings might have something for him to loot– more drugs if he’s extra, extra lucky.

Coop enters a nondescript building– where a radroach is waiting, and he immediately fires at it without even looking, killing it in one shot– and he sees the sign over the entry way, marking the lobby.

This is some Hollywood executive-owned club. It’s hard to tell– two hundredyears of wear-and-tear will do that for you– but Cooper Howard distinctly remembers this place, maybe in some conversation back then, maybe when he was networking. 

Every single thing has a distinct, thick layer of grime over it. Coop thinks of sweaty strippers dancing, actors cheating on their wives– they’re all probably dead now.

He reaches into his satchel and takes a hit of one of his vials– and hopes he can replace what he uses with something here.

There’s not a single bottle behind the bar, and he jostles through, not seeing a chem or a drug left behind by anyone on the floor or behind the counter, and he’s mildly disgruntled over how every place has nearly everything picked clean by raiders, wastelanders– just other people. Coop will always loathe these other assholes.

He climbs the broken stairs with a lanky, languid stretch, making it over a fairly large hole where a corpse waits on the floor below. A raider who didn’t watch where he was stepping. That tells him there should be loot up on this upper floor– at least a bit of it.

He walks to the one closed door in a less-than-discreet hallway, gold sconces and railings marking the way.

“Ah… private office.” Coop jiggles an ostentatious handle to a mahogany door, that is surely leading to an even more pretentiously ostentatious office, and he finds that it’s locked.

A good sign. Most likely no one’s ever been in there, because it’s probably a difficult lock to pick. 

It surprises him that no one’s ever just forced their way through.

Coop doesn’t waste time on this though– he just takes a teeny gun out of his bag, fires it, and admires the hole in the door where the handle used to be. The door creaks open on it’s own, and he saunters into a well furnished, dusty office room.

“Nope, nope, nope…” He pushes box after box in the shelves next to the wall, and they fall with loud clatter– loaded with panicky, nuclear-war-on-the-horizon type shit, like canned meats and beans and preserved jams and pickles. “Fuck no.”

He pushes off a toy figurine of Vault Boy down with extra gusto.

Coop looks behind the desk, where there’s a dusty placard reading Adrian Amos II. He grins– one of the worst producer bastards of all time is not someone he’d feel bad about stealing from, even if there was still some conscience left in him. No, sir, Adrian Amos the second did not deserve any sympathy, especially after the way he was known for bitching about salaries, abusing PAs, and having a predilection for going after less-than-consenting women.

Coop grits his teeth, remembering that asshole and how terrible and gaudy this club was back then. Not that it was better now– but he’s grateful for one man’s deserved death, at least.

He jostles open where the second drawer is filled with the glass clinking sound of many, many vials.

“Fucking jackpot, Jesus.” Coop stares down at how many there are– at least 40 or 50– a hell of a lot to just be left behind.

Well, based on the other supplies, Adrian Amos got fucked over and either didn’t make it to his vault in time, or forgot to run to his private club before heading in.

Coop doesn’t give a fuck, though. He starts piling the vials into his cases, and then back into his bag.

There’s a sudden whirring sound near him. “Huh?”

To his left, an imperceptible secret door has pushed itself outwards, decorated in the same dark brown wallpaper as the rest of the room.

Coop looks down and under– he’s accidentally pressed a secret button on the underside of the drawer. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t know what would be inside the secret room– assassins, raiders waiting on someone to dupe? Maybe even synths, just meant to protect Amos when he needed it.

Inside the room, it’s dark, and he can’t make out anything. Coop can only draw his gun rapidly when there’s a blue light suddenly emitting out from the inside.

He’s careful as he approaches– last thing Coop wants is an ambush– and as his vision improves, he sees it’s a cryonic pod, all frosted over so he can’t make out who’s inside.

Coop sighs, ready to leave it behind– he’s not interested in waking up Amos– and instead, the thing whirs, heating up it’s insides with extremely hot steam, and then opens up with a mechanical flourish.

Coop instinctively steps back, coughing “Holy shit!” as the air whooshes past him.

A body falls out, just looking slightly frosted– mostly thawed by whatever the cryo tank just did. 

/

You're on set again, sitting in a free lawn chair while others get ready for their take– it's not for a Nuka-Cola ad, it's just a guest appearance on everyone's favourite sitcom, The Grady Group, where you play an overly promiscuous babysitter who has no sense for watching over kids.

It's comedic, it's an easy way to get laughs– plus it actually boosts the shows’ ratings since you've been in movies and all. You’re done filming already, you’re just sitting here watching the rest of the shoot, dragging out your return to your car, and then back home. 

Something about the fictional family you wait on, Gill and Gina Grady, and their kids Gideon, Gessica, and Gwen, it makes you miss having a family of your own. In fact, you have half a mind to call your mother, despite all the bitching she’ll give you about the things you haven’t done yet.

It also doesn't help that Gill and Gina are a couple in real life– named Arthur and Bea Smith, they really, really are in love, and in between takes they're often canoodling with each other.

You're happy for them, if not a little– jealous, despite the fact that you're not interested in dating anyone right now. At least, you thought you weren't, but you find that lately, when you return back to your apartment all lonesome after a shoot, you feel like something is missing.

“Hey. Nuka-Cola.” Cooper Howard strolls over to where you're sitting, and you smile up at him, covering your eyes from the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Mr. Howard. Shooting today?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not at all. Just lounging around, waiting for my kid.” He sits in the lawn chair next to you, leaning back, crossing one leg over the other. “Janey is on a field trip at a museum next door– I thought I’d kill some time before picking her up.”

“Ah, cute.” You grin. Janey Howard is an absolutely precious kid– she shares her dad’s smile, but has a curious nature that you admire. “Is she well?”

“As well as kids can be at that age, running around all the time.” Cooper shrugs. “You know how it is.”

“Kind of. I actually did used to babysit kids, so I know– they can never sit still or mind their business.” You laugh as Cooper grins. 

“So you went method for your guest appearance, huh?” He asks, and you’re mildly baffled.

“How do you know about that?” You squint at him, just being jokingly suspicious.

“Oh, I saw a few clips of your footage. While I was walking over here.” He points over at Stu, the director, standing on the living room set, watching clips on his viewfinder. “Seemed pretty natural to me.”

It almost bothers you that he seems so interested in you and your work, that he always voices support– but he’s well-known for being happily married, for being content in general, unlike you.  

Still, better a friend than nothing at all, that’s what you always tell yourself.

“Thanks. But it’s not hard being around kids, is it?” You reminisce being a kid in Mojave, playing with your friends on your street– and then as a young adult, babysitting new kids that still wanted to play with you. “I still sometimes feel like I’m just a kid pretending to be an adult.”

“That never goes away, darlin’.” Cooper laughs, and you blink. “Being an actor, especially, you’re never losing that childhood sense of wonder, you get my drift?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod. “I just don’t feel complete, I guess. I’m still waiting for the moment I’ll know I’m an adult– like maybe if I get married or something like that.”

“Being married didn’t change that for me either. Neither did being a dad.” He winces, and scratches at his stubble. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, but I think it’s all apart of being a human person.”

Your face turns a little more glum at that, and he wonders what he said that bummed you out. It’s not his intention– he wants to cheer you up.

“What’s with the sad, forlorn, ‘I’m-a-pretty-girl-come-comfort-me’ look?” Cooper utters as he leans in, and you laugh a little but silence yourself, recognizing his compliment.

It’s dangerous to flirt with this guy, this taken man who has nothing to gain but a bit of affection he may be missing, but you see that he knows his compliment had effect anyways– and he definitely likes that.

You just choose to assume it’s entirely friendly.

“I just… I like the thought of having a family.” You suck in air,at how foolish and girly this sounds, hardly the cutthroat businesswoman you need to be out here. “This is stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it isn’t.” Cooper taps his arm rest, thinking. “You’re hurting, I can tell. You got that same pissed off look most ladies get when they ‘don’t wanna talk’ but they’re holding tons of shit inside.”

Damn this guy, you think, but you decide to be honest.

“I just didn’t think it’d be so lonely out here. In Hollywood.” You press your palms together. “Like, everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by classic Americana, the nuclear family– and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous.”

“As a bachelorette, don’t you got plenty of options?” Cooper grins. “I mean, are men not lining up to court Nuka-Cola girl?”

“Ah…” You hum, thinking of dates you’ve had here, settling back in your seat. “I don’t know– it’s cheesy but I want more sincerity.”

“In that case, don’t be jealous, marriage ain’t all that.” Cooper tuts, knowing that you of all people should hear about how it doesn’t complete you. “It’s not perfect, it’s not a magical fairy-tale where everything gets solved, it’s a hell of a lot more work than people let on.”

“Oh.” You knew that, deep down– but hearing it from him really solidifies that for you. It’s a silly dream.

It sounds like he’s speaking from experience, so you quiet down. But you’re not trying to get your hopes up about that or anything.

“And you’re not an idiot, Nuka-Cola. Don’t get into something you’re not a hundred fucking percent sure about.” Cooper clicks his tongue. “If you really feel the urge to suddenly go and play wife with someone, just for me, make sure he’s absolutely worth it.”

“For you?” You raise your eyebrows at that.

“I figure you won’t do it for yourself. Love is blind and all that.” He points at himself. “But if I, as your buddy Cooper, hold you to that? I’ll bet that you’ll vet every single guy.”

“Oh, really.” You smirk at him, your nose scrunching a little. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?”

“Uh…” Cooper is truly caught off guard here. He knows he didn’t intend anything by what he said, but it does feel like… he won’t enjoy the fact that if the next few times he talks to you, continuing become close to you, he’ll have to get the approval of some man.

Some man who wouldn’t even know you as long he has known you. He always likes his chats with you, and there’s an urge inside him not to let you go.

He thinks again that you’re a little too spontaneous. Not easy to dupe, no– he can’t just flirt with you for fun because you’ll always pick up on it, even if he did it by mistake.

“No comment.” He finally answers with a raspy, low tone, one that you barely hear but are satisfied by.

/

A few months later, you check your face in your little compact mirror before stuffing it in your purse and heading inside Sebastian Leslie’s home. Exciting, yes, because this is the first time you’ve been invited not just to network, not just because a big name has seen you in the movies and wants to flaunt that they know you tangentially.

No, this is the first time you know someone, you’re actually in with a crowd– you’re friends with the host. You don’t feel nearly as awkward walking into Sebastian’s comfortable home and seeing familiar faces that you’re close with, decor that you already recognize.

“There she is.” Sebastian greets you with a tight hug– for a massive flirt he’s actually rather protective of you sometimes. “Love the dress, by the way– is that a vintage Chanel? Black is very flattering on you, my dear.”

You get the sense he didn’t want you to be involved in this industry sometimes, but other times– he likes that you put work in.

“I saw your newest advertisement on TV yesterday.” He comments, and you giggle.

“Was it good?” 

“Yeah, amazing as usual– but you gotta do more than that.” Sebastian holds your hand as he pulls you into the crowd of other low-level actors, people who could risk showing up, really, and you fix your dress, a black one with a low square neckline. “Look into Vault-Tec– I’ve been telling Cooper here about how our futures are totally going to be surrounded by their products, even though that fucker does not want to listen.”

Cooper’s lounging in a low sofa in the pit of this living room, holding a crystal glass full of amber liquid, black button up shirt half open– he looks dishevelled, hair slightly askew, jaw off-kilter as he presses his tongue into his cheek, thinking. Lost by something, but still put together as celebrities are. Geez, you really need to temper your attraction to him.

It doesn’t help how he looks at you, either– there’s something deep and reverent about his gaze, like he wants to believe whatever he sees when he’s looking at you– but you have no idea if it’s real, or if it’s just an act like with most of these celebrities.

You used to see him a lot more frequently too, over the last few months. Either at set, or at more fancy parties– most of which he’s been perfectly pleasant and kind to you.

“Of course you’d label me as some fucking chairman for them, Seabass.” Cooper slams back half a pint of whisky, and pours himself some more. “Hey, Nuka-Cola.”

“Hey, Mr. Howard.” You smile gently. You’ve heard about his divorce– everyone has, but you’re not 100% sure why it’s happened, why now when things seemed to be going so well for him.

Well is relative, though. You know loads of actors have decried him privately– no one wants to hang out with the man promoting the end of the world, apparently. It must be a tough thing to only be hired for your wife’s advertisements– and even then, you don’t exactly agree with what they’re marketing, either.

You don’t feel so strongly against Cooper, though. Maybe because you do like him– but also because you know what it’s like to have your image connected to something you don’t really promote. Nuka-Cola isn’t healthy, it’s got enough sugar to induce instant death when drank regularly. But you do it for the connections, the money– and you’re sure Cooper did too.

“Cooper is fine.” He grumbles, and you remember his last name is maybe a sore subject right now.

“Sorry.” You do your best to be delicate as you sit next to him, and Sebastian sits on the other side of you. “How’re you, Cooper?”

“Not bad. If you count being divorced as being alright.” He sighs, and you feel terrible that you even asked. “It’s like I never knew her, man– I thought Barb was different. Or they changed her, I don’t fucking know.”

“She had her eyes set on the prize. As did you, Coop.” Sebastian states, and Cooper turns, affronted.

“We’re all interested in money and glory, Seabass. Fuck you if you think otherwise.” Cooper tenses, and you feel a bit awkward listening in on this conversation.

“What did I say that negates that? I’m as money hungry as they come.” Sebastian shrugs. “I only meant that– despite it all, making money was what you had in common, evidently not the world-going-nuclear shit. Maybe you’ve got a heart of gold, a change of mind, I don’t know, Cooper. But throwing away an easy life just to pay alimony must be fucking awful, so I just don’t think you’re in it for the money anymore.”

“You’re fucking telling me.” Cooper sniggers. “I don’t think Barb cares. I’m here with no career, and she’s out there getting promoted in Vault-Tec. As for the heart of gold… any former marine would’ve been against that shit.”

You want to ask what shit, but you don’t want to overstep your boundaries. You get the general fear of nuclear war– but Cooper sounds more personally affected by it.

Cooper glances over at you. “What do you think? Better to be richer than you can spend in a lifetime, or to be out with a good conscience?” 

“I don’t know if I’m that interested in money.” You say honestly, and Cooper raises his eyebrows.   

“Really? Nuka-Cola’s a saint, huh.” He chuckles– he’s clearly a bit buzzed.

“No, I’m not. Of course I want to have a career.” You think about this carefully, so it doesn’t sound insincere. “Making money is nice– but I don’t think I have the right to say it should come at the cost of human lives. You know Nuka-Cola is terrible for you, right? ”

Cooper stares at you for a moment too long, and then looks away. “Yeah… addicting.”

He’s definitely not talking about Cola, but you continue on. “Yeah, so just in that way– I disagree with how much power marketing has. We’ve convinced America that they need this– just so some chairman can make an extra dollar.”

Cooper looks at you, renewed by whatever you just said. “Hell, woman after my own heart. That’s damn true.”

“Yes, yes, you two oblivious flirts– there’s no art in filmmaking anymore, just commercialism. Not like it hasn’t been the case for a century.” Sebastian chimes in, and you bite your lip, pretending not to notice how Cooper’s face is smirking bashfully. “But, babe. You’re going to want to make your money before the world fucking ends.”

“What’s that?” You startle, and Cooper laughs sardonically at your surprise, while Sebastian gets up.

“Let me get myself a drink– I hardly want to tell this story sober.” He leaves, and Cooper has half a heart to glare at him– he knows Sebastian is leaving the two of you alone so he can do the dirty work.

Not like his reputation can ever get better, especially by telling this story again with it’s lurid details, but at least it doesn't hurt that he's with you. 

“What does he mean by that, Mr. Howard?” You wince at your use of that. “Sorry– I meant Cooper.”

“Ah, call me what you’d like.” Cooper takes another sip of his drink, leaning back in the couch to the point where he is practically lying down and against you. “It sounds good coming out of your mouth no matter what you pick, Nuka-Cola.”

Now that’s a suggestive, loaded line, and you feel a little more comfortable flirting with him even if it’s a bit of a rebound for him. The end of the world is approaching, right?

“The end of the world?” You prod at him, and he sighs, leaning against your shoulder. 

“It’s fucking ridiculous, what it is… probably never going to happen anytime soon.” Cooper’s tone of voice is hazy as he examines his last sip of whisky in the glass. “No, no. Just something those fucking commies put in my head. I guess they’re not really commies, are they?”

“Unless you elaborate, I can’t say.” You utter back at him, and he pushes down a smile.

“Alright. Vault-Tec’s been selling this nuclear protective stuff, right?” He says, and you nod, your cheek brushing against the top of his hair. “All I can say is that a few… radicals, if you will, think that Vault-Tec might actually be more involved with it than they say. Like, they might be…”

“Not just protective, huh? More offensive? Everyone’s got that feeling, Mr. Howard. And that doesn't sound like a particularly commie-train-of-thought to me.” You hear the sorrow in his tone, even if he’s trying to make it sound like a rumour. “Did you hear this from your ex-wife?”

Cooper winces here. He still feels slightly guilty about spying on her. A part of him thinks they might’ve not divorced if he hadn’t found out– but he knows he was bound to find out eventually, and he would’ve just delayed the inevitable.

“Maybe, Cola. Maybe you’re just sharp.” He whispers, and you smile and he feels it– your skin is intoxicatingly close right now.

“So, odds are?” You ask, just curious, and he exhales.

“Bad. I have to agree with them.” He admits, and it feels exhilarating to admit this– that Vault-Tec is gonna nuke the world at some point, that the radicals are more like minded to him than he’s wanted to believe in the past. “Even if it didn’t cost my movies, I regret partaking in what they were selling.”

That’s a big thing for him to say– you know Cooper loves acting, he absolutely adores playing a hardened sheriff, the last vestige of goodness in the wild, wild west. All the times you’ve visited him on his set– probably during his last contractual movie, now that you think about it– and he was always so excited to show off the architecture and intricacies of the fictional western town they’d set up, share script details and little character quirks so you could have an insider’s viewpoint. He even donned his cowboy hat on you, saying you wore it like a natural.

He loved being the hero, really.

He lights a cigarette, and takes a puff.

“Most big-name connections refuse to talk to me because of this stuff– I’ve basically been dropped out of phonebooks all together. They think I’m still in on it, they think I’ve only stopped because of backlash–” He stops as you begin to scratch his scalp, still leaning against your shoulder, but getting progressively into your neck area.

Jesus, that feels good. He thinks. He hasn’t been intimate in a while– Barb became increasingly more cold to him over the last few months, as their marriage kept falling apart.

“Backlash, really?” You whisper. 

“Yeah.” He stutters for just a moment, because your eyes are peering into his, and for a moment he thinks you could really make it as just a bombshell if you wanted to– then he takes another puff. “When really, I was just backing out of what I thought was really a massive crime against humanity.”

“Are you only telling me this to validate your poor conscience? Remedy that reputation a little?” You ask, and he presses his lips together. 

“Well, I'll be honest, yeah. Of fucking course I'd tell the one woman who seems to be like me on this.” He sounds so certain of you, sounds so sure that you're on his side.

And you absolutely are.

“The world’s about to end, Mr. Howard. You're not a bad man for not wanting to support it. I'm inclined to agree.” You inhale deeply, and Cooper stares at you– something stirs inside him as he does. 

“Kiss me, then. Humour me– since none of this will matter soon.” Cooper murmurs, lying on top of your chest now, the smoke from his cigarette enveloping your face.

He’s so close you barely have to move to oblige to what he’s said– you're second guessing yourself for just a moment, because it feels like a dream that he'd ask you to do this, so out of the blue, such a picture perfect fantasy that you almost don't care about the impending doom, and you press your lips gently to his in an upside-down kiss, his hair brushing against your open cleavage, but Cooper is insistent and leans upward, kissing you with such intensity that your head is spinning afterwards.

God, now that's a movie star kiss. You think.

He kisses you again as Sebastian returns, drink in hand.

“Oi! You two. Jesus Christ, can't keep your hands off each other, can you?” Sebastian pretends to vomit. “C’mon, if I want to talk to you at my party, I should have that right.”

You attempt to pull away– but Cooper, being a little mischevious, perhaps wanting to show off in a way he hasn’t been able to, sits up right and kisses you again, this time normally, just very slowly and passionately though, slithering an arm around your waist in a way that has Sebastian rolling his eyes. 

“Okay, present.” He says, not pulling his arm off your waist. 

“Thanks.” Sebastian shakes his head. “I was thinking we should take the mood off with some party games…”

/

It's about 2 AM when you've finally left the party. Cooper didn't want to let you go– he's crashing at an apartment for the time being, but you really don't want to waste yourself on being his rebound, if he really likes you.

You tell him as much, and he likes that– you really are rather sharp about things. 

“Well. Gimme a call when you realize I'm not kidding around with you.” He says unabashedly, holding your hand, kissing it as you leave.

You’re absolutely sure he's drunk, and he's being a little too clingy– but you want to believe him anyways. 

You walk back to your car, alone. Thinking about if Cooper is worth the damage it could have on your potential career. But then again– the end of the world is coming, right?

So maybe it won’t matter. And you find that you like this, the secret potential of this option, just hanging out with Cooper in a place that used to be America, no more expectations on you both. There’s also the chance you just both die, though.

You shudder.

You don't notice that there's a man in the backseat of your car when you get in, brandishing a chloroform stained cloth.

/

The Ghoul prods at the body that's just fallen out of the cryo pod.

Oh fuck. 

It's starting to stir, whoever it is, and Coop knows he's ready, if this is really some synthetic android-clone thing, to make their life hell. Get some of his anger out on something that doesn’t matter.

Wait– he recognizes that cherry red fabric. That coiffed hair, frosty after being inside the pod. Oh, Jesus… even the makeup is the same as when he last saw you. 

“Ah… shit.” He chuckles to himself in exasperation, because this is beyond belief. “Nuka-Cola, is that you?”

You tilt yourself to the side, eyes bleary, unable to see clearly. Everything’s dark. But you know that voice, you just heard it a couple of days ago.

“Mr. Howard?” You croak out, and he hisses inwards– nobody has called him that in centuries. Nobody knows who he is… except for you, of course. 

“The one and the same, baby.” He licks the side of his gums, deciding to stick with his identity for now. “Well, maybe a little different. You wouldn't happen to know what a Ghoul is, huh?”

“What?” You don't know how long your vision is going to stay black for, but you don't like the sound of that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Eyes haven't been opened for… two hundred years. I'll give you some time, Cola.” He sighs; cracks his neck, while you sink back into the floor. “Just imagine the ugliest horror-picture monster you can imagine. Zombie, no nose. That paint a picture for you?”

“...”

“What was that?” Coop can't hear you when your voice is muffled into the tiles of this secret room. He grasps your hair gently, from the root, pulling your head upwards so you'll speak– clearly you don't have the strength to lift up your body. 

“I said, how is that any different from before?” 

“Oh, she's still a jokester.” Coop scoffs– despite himself he snorts– and he lets go of your hair so you land back on the floor with a thump.

“–Ow!” You flinch, and then turn over so you’re on your back. “Still an asshole, huh?”

“Me?” He grins maliciously. Ooh, maybe he can use some misplaced anger on you. “You're the one who didn't call back for several weeks.”

“How could I? You can see I've been trapped in a cryo thing for… however long. Did you say two hundred years?” You flatly ask, and Coop still thinks you're lying.

“Yes, and bullshit. You probably had a couple weeks since I last saw you to call me.” He states, and he doesn’t actually hold a grudge, at least not that much of it in comparison to all the other horrid shit that’s happened to him– he just thinks it's funny to push your buttons after all of that, like looking into a mirror of the past– and you groan.

“No, I didn't. I got in my car after Sebastian's party, and some goon sprayed something in my face, I passed out, and he drove me here.” You start, and you begin frowning in such a way that Coop almost feels bad. 

“Why you, sweetheart?” He shakes his head. “You weren't exactly high up in popularity yet.”

“Exactly. No one would miss me.” You spit out bitterly, remember the end to that night, where you were so unaware of your surroundings, and terrified of being assaulted as you were pushed around into this room, blindfolded.

“Adrian fucking Amos, the fucking Second, thought it would be great if I just became his permanent doll during the apocalypse.” You swallow, and Coop sits down next to you, to listen more clearly. You shift towards his body heat– and to his surprise, he still likes that. “See, his daddy has shares in Vault-Tec, so he decided before nuclear fallout happened, he wanted a guaranteed sex slave from his favourite advertisements.”

“Nuka-Cola.” Coop utters with the slowest drawl, concluding your statement– and you like that.

“Yeah, Nuka fucking Cola.” You grimace. “Then he undressed me, put me in this little number, and threw me in the pod. I barely remember this shit because I was so out of it.”

“Shame. I always wondered why you never called me back.” Coop circles back to his little grudge– but he also feels bad, feels some level of guilt that neither he nor Sebastian had the sense to look out for you back then, and you were practically assaulted (maybe actually so if you didn't remember). 

“Yeah, because I wanted to miss out on that piece of ass. Sure.” You joke feebly, and Coop laughs despite himself. 

“Honey, you're gonna run away screaming when you finally see me. Don't worry about it.” He shakes his head. “The real world's a lot more fucking difficult than would'ves and could'ves.”

“Okay, explain. If you're willing to owe me that much.” You start, and Coop gets reminded of that fateful night a couple hundred years ago, where he was the one to clue you into the impending nuclear war.

Not even three months later, it was all over, and you were nowhere in sight– if his mind ever did drift to you, the what-ifs and who-knows that still persisted– he would always assume you were dead.

Now he thinks you're just unfinished business. 

“Fine.” He taps your shoulder, and you lean a little closer towards him– you touch his hand, and instead of flinching as many people have in the past– you trace the tough, callused skin there.

He thinks there’s something wrong with you. Why do you seem drawn to him anyways? You’re completely fucking up his tough guy, lone-wolf persona by being here, and he wants you gone. He pulls away his hand, ignoring how your face falls for a moment.

Coop inhales, and then starts. “In October 2077, they nuked America, bombed it all to hell. By they, I think we both know what I’m implying.”

“It wasn’t the Chinese.” You interrupt, and he shushes you.

“Yeah, Cola.” He starts playing with his fingers, feeling like you don’t deserve to be here right now. That you should’ve just stayed dead. “Vault-Tec destroyed it all.”

It’s no good. He’s an old man, and you’re still as soft and young as ever. He’s always haunted by his past, like with Barb and Janey, and then Sebastian’s voice in every single Mr. Handy robot he comes by, and then finally, his last couple memories with you.

“The last two hundred something years have been filled with carnage, death, unspeakable horrors that your pretty little mind could never comprehend.” He grits out, pushing past the past and remembering that this is who he is now– a killer– and you stare at him vacantly, because his tone is so much more serious suddenly. “Nothing is the same. Everyone has blood on their hands, water is a fucking commodity, if you’re not watching out for humans to betray you, hideous creatures like me roam the ground, and that ground? Sands, deserts, barely a hint of green. It’s nothing worth coming back to.”

“So you’re saying I’m in hell.” You suddenly inhale harshly, and Coop ignores the urge to check on you.

The last thing he needs is an extra person to take care of– especially someone who doesn’t know the Wasteland. So it’s better now that he just weans you off and leaves you here.

“Yeah, sweetheart. And I'm the devil.” Coop sucks on his teeth again. “If you had any sense, you’d go back into that fucking freezer until some utopia is born four hundred years from–”

You flinch, and he stops. 

“Oh, God, my eyes–”

The sight comes back slowly then all at once. Light everywhere, overwhelming your senses. 

You blink, tears rolling down your face. 

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you stayed blind, Cola.” He stares at you as you rub your eyes, taking in the state of the room. 

It’s a warning, but you look up at him again anyways. And Coop waits for the utter horror, for the sign that he really has transformed into a monster, so he can hurry up and leave– this entire conversation with you is just him finishing Cooper Howard’s past with a bow. A shiny, Nuka-Cola-red bow.

“...” You swallow, and then bite your lip, tilting your head up at him. “Couldn’t let go of the cowboy identity, huh?”

Coop furrows his non-existent eyebrows, disliking how hard you’re making this, how clever you still seem to be– you also seem way too relaxed with him. He has half a mind to fire a warning shot at you. “Yeah, okay, darlin’. You’re just avoiding facing that horrific, bile-inducing sensation in your throat, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, disagreeing immediately. “You might look– a little less like how I remember you, I guess… but you’re still you. I see it, and apparently so do you.”

How dare you? Coop thinks, how dare you intertwine his two images together so easily when he could never be the same man again, when just seeing an old VHS tape of one of his movies pains him?

“Yeah, no thanks. If this is your way to get me to valet you around, I’m not that man anymore, Nuka-Cola.” He resents the way you think he could still be good– just because his western image brings him a little comfort nowadays. “Not a sheriff anymore.”

Your face drops, but you seem to take that information readily. “Yeah, I figured that based on your outfit, the little blood splatters on your pants… if that’s how the world is, then so be it.”

You’re saying things that on paper should be right– but Coop is getting more and more disgruntled with you, and you feel like you need to separate yourself from him. Yes, tough, because to you it’s been all of forty-eight hours since you kissed him– but you can see, no matter how deep the original Cooper Howard is inside this new Ghoul, you’re not going to be able to bring him out.

You stand up, on shaky, bare feet, and motion for Coop to move out of the way. Independent woman to the end, you are, and you want to get your bearings without him.

Coop internally sighs. He doesn’t believe for one second you’ll survive out there– and he really doesn’t need to spend the time seeing you die, so he turns around, and leaves you here.

/

He never did find Leopold St. West, much to his chagrin– you really, really messed up his day. 

It happens. Sometimes he’ll see Janey in another person’s eyes and freak out, and have to boil it down by murdering random raiders. 

But now Coop is just spiteful. He’s always figured that a lot of what happened to the world was just a bunch of rich people picking and choosing a destiny for themselves to the detriment of everyone else, and now he’s aware that included you, too. To casually be grabbed away by some man, just because he was rich… Coop isn’t unsympathetic to how you ended up, even if he treated you quite poorly. It’s sickening.

Two hundred years of quiet, always-dwelling agony, the first few years out of fear for being alone, and the next few years spent conspiring about what could’ve happened to his family– and then here you are as confirmation of his worst theories.

No wonder he enjoys his casket time.

/

Coop sighs.

Vaultie is hard to keep track of. She got away with murder this time at the organ harvesting clinic– so Coop finds it easier to stop working with her, to move when he wants to.

The Govermint (really just Booker’s shitty gang) was rather easy to dismantle. The two sheriffs that he killed required no expertise on his part.

He’s thinking about the fact that since Moldaver is still alive, and apparently that fucker Hank MacLean, then that means there’s a good chance Barb and Janey are too– perhaps he could go and find them.

It’s an odd urge, though. Everytime he thinks about it, he wonders how he’s actually supposed to connect with them again– they’ve been fractured for so long, and he’s changed, and there’s a good chance neither of them would accept him like this.

But you did, didn’t you? You were on the verge of saying yes, you’d accept him– as if nothing had changed.

Coop grumbles. The big, significant difference is that you were infatuated with him, but Barb divorced him, and Janey was too young to make that choice. He considers that it could be a pipe dream, but he still has hope– for Janey, at least.

He thinks you’re probably dead anyways. He hasn’t seen you in several months, since that day where he unceremoniously woke you up– and he hopes it stays that way.

He's chilling in another small, scrappy area of the wasteland. Nobody bothers the Ghoul, not when he's casually fiddling with his gun and and chewing on a toothpick.

A man runs past him, holding a significantly valuable piece of Brotherhood equipment. Maybe worth thousands of caps if he knows his shit, and he does. That’s a fusion core, and they’re not exactly mass producing those anymore during the apocalypse.

Coop points his gun at him, finger on the trigger, seconds away from creating a bloody mess–

A blade thwacks into the guy’s neck, blood spurting as he falls and chokes. A person– a woman– jumps on his back, her face obscured by a deep green bandana . She yanks out the knife, stabs a few more times for good measure– and Coop knows the game, he’s not surprised he’s not the only one to go after this guy.

He’s pretty good at killing casually, and he barely even moves from where he’s standing, aiming the gun at her.

No way is he letting easy money pass by him.

He’s about to pull the trigger extra-quick when she yanks the bandana down, taking a deep breath as she sweats, and Coop actually misses.

It’s you. You stare up at him from where you’re squatting over the body, and your gaze hardens, furrowed brows, dark lashes, intensely dark pupils. You purse your lips, press them together, jaw set in a stern fashion, recognizing him but refusing to hear him out– and Coop doesn’t know why he’s not firing, but he’s almost… enamoured with how you are now, almost taken aback by your new nature.

Not so taken aback that he doesn’t immediately start firing when you take the fusion core and start running.

And Coop doesn’t want to actually kill you, he just wants to incite some damage. See how far you can take it.

You interweave through random gaps in the metal scraps of this little abode, seeking shelter as you do so, and Coop’s gunfire only ricochets off them with cartoony sounding “pings!”

He manages to graze your left thigh through a small window, and you inhale sharply, stopping as you grit through the pain.

Coop grins to himself. This little cat and mouse chase is what he expected, what was predictable from you– you’re smart enough to stay on the defense, but you would probably never attack him, avoiding him because of your sad feelings of the old times, never resort to carnage unless you needed to–

You shove past the walls where you’ve been roaming, and manage one kick against his stomach and he manages to grab you and restrain you, your back against his front.

You grab his own jacket for purchase, and instead of pulling forward– you push back, landing on top of him with a thud that surely hurts him. Coop clenches his teeth, back against the ground now, but you scramble, straddling him. Hands around his throat, knife pressed against one of his tendons. Not outright strangling him, but just enough pressure that he knows you’re seriously threatening him.

Holy fuck, have you changed. Just like Vaultie, maybe you’re showing your honest self– and Coop supposes it may have been his mistake to underestimate you.

“Got a whole new outfit… I like it.” He admires your new leather jacket, cargo pants around your thighs pushing his arms down, a blouse fashioned out of your old Nuka-Cola dress. Tough combat boots dig into his thighs as you push against him. “Don’t fucking start–” You squeeze a little harder and he groans, the tip of the knife pushing in. “With your on and off, hot and cold bullshit.” 

Ooh, it sounds like you have a little bit of a grudge over how you were treated.

“Get over it, Cola. It was centuries ago, whatever we had.” He spits out, and you have a glint of sadness in your eyes.

He knew you were a little too gushy for your own good– not even he adapted that quickly to the wilderness of the Wasteland. He waits for you to make the mistake, apologize, break down– and then he can take the core and get out of here.

But you’re still firm in your grasp of him, your weight pushing him down, blade against him.

You’re not angry about back then. You’ve come to terms with that.

You’re angry at the state of the world. 

“You know what I fucking hate, Ghoul?” You spit in his face, and he blinks, spittle now on his chin. “You are all so selfish. I got left behind, likely for dead, right, and nobody gives a shit, whatever. But instead of me hoping that the leftover crumbs of society would at least try to be, I don’t fucking know, more hopeful and kind, or at the very least, not be so fucking greedy and transparently trying to be the new party in charge.”

“You’re living in a dream world.” Coop interrupts, and he’s rewarded with you carving a small, little cut on his cheek, a rapid movement you hardly think about, and it causes him to inhale sharply, a drop of blood smearing across his face.

“Oh, no. I’m not asking for everyone to hold hands and play family.” You laugh suddenly, and then somehow lean in closer, and Coop finds that in some fucked up way he enjoys the pressure against him. “It’s bullshit, that kind of image making– you and I both know that. But for all this supposed talk against the rich billionaires who ruined our lives, how are we not just emulating them?”

Coop is actually drawn to silence.

“Maybe you actually got fooled by self-image, Cola.” He murmurs. “Or maybe that’s just people’s true nature.”

You don’t like that answer. You don’t actually want to believe that, but the more you think about it, the more it’s probably true. People lie all the time, but the amount of outrage you’ve heard from people the last few months, bemoaning Vault-Tec and all those rich fuckers, you were inclined to believe they wouldn’t act the exact same way.

Just at a different level. Power corrupts all, you guess.

You loosen your grasp a little. “Thank you.”

It’s honest, and Coop doesn’t like how much he does like your nature of trusting him– how even as this new, terrible version of yourself, you still trust him, and you still ask for his advice.

He doesn’t know what to make of this, but he thinks maybe he can get some use out of you yet.

Coop wrangles his arm from out under your thigh, where you’ve accidentally let a gap through, and shoves you over.

You fall with a gasp, hitting the ground, and he stands up and kicks you for good measure, while you screech in pain. 

Coop picks you up by your throat, and you instantly move to fighting– your blade against his stomach, teeth gritted in resolute urge to kill– but he’s got his pistol at your neck, and the way he brushes it against you is almost like a lover’s embrace.

“One thing I hate is a fucking liar, Cola.” He grumbles, and you glare at him. “You’re not some innocent– why else do you got a fusion core in your pocket?”

“I never claimed I was a good woman.” You shake your head. “I just wonder why the Brotherhood, the Enclave, hell, even some of the Raiders… everyone wants the ultimate piece of the pie.”

“Besides, you’re the one who kept saying to survive out here I’d have to be a killer.” You remind him, and he looks down at you, thinking. “The world’s grieving– I don’t blame it for that, I feel the same way.”

You’ve still got a way with words, he thinks, and he was right. He can use you for his benefit.

“Say, Nuka-Cola. Why don’t we take some of those fuckers down?” He stills. “Not randoms. The power-hungry pie-eaters, like how you so eloquently put it.”

You don’t fully trust him again, but you’re into the prospect. You don’t want power, and you know he doesn’t either, but it’s not just looting. No, no, this is something akin to revenge.

“Alright.” You whisper.

“Alright. Okay, I won’t shoot if you don’t cut me.” He speaks softly, slowly, trying to cajole you out of attacking– and you move as he does. 

The threatening air of before is gone now, and the Ghoul has only a odd stare for you, something that makes you feel watched, almost reminding you of two centuries ago. It could be that he doesn’t trust you either– and so you walk onward with a gap between you two, heading to wherever a faction that needs fucking up could be.

/

Coop strolls inside the makeshift bar as you make conversation, staying within the shadows. It’s not on official Enclave grounds, it’s simply a nearby bar where members have been known to hang out. 

He doesn’t exactly mind being the one to pick up the slack of killing people– he can tell you’re good at charming people what with your former bombshell acting techniques, your silly, soft blinks, the way how your skin still looks smooth and untouched.

Was it all a lie with him? Aw, shit, why does he care? He really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s been manipulated by you– he won’t be manipulated by you now, when he gets rid of many the people who represents obstacles in his way to finding still-existing Vault-Tec members.

Yes, that’s all this is to him. Another step to finding Moldaver, Henry MacLean, then his family if he’s lucky. And you’ll get some rage out of it, so he doesn’t even consider this to be that bad of an evasion of his. 

You laugh at something the knight next to you says. Coop catches a bit of it, of him asking how you look under that big jacket– and you mentioning you’d like to see him without that government get-up, too.

He grits his teeth. He’s not fucking in love with you, or anything stupidly juvenile like that– but he definitely felt something before when the two of you were fighting, or when you had conversations during the long, arduous talk here– you bit into a piece of his jerky when he offered it, and he laughed in surprise that you didn’t spit it out after he revealed it was feral ghoul ass jerky.

He also found that his gaze kept being drawn to you, too. You kept up with him, you were capable of hunting and searching on your own, you took lives when the need arose, and you had his back, even if he didn’t ask for it.

You made him subconsciously draw from the past, reminiscing about a time with you and a future he never thought he’d revisit. And now he can’t ignore that, so he needs to let off some steam.

There’s a splatter of blood across your face as the guy in front of you splutters, a bullet hole shot through his forehead. Little pieces of flesh hit the bar counter as he falls, and you gasp.

Coop is kind of quick with it now– he fires off, and because these “politicians” are unprepared, he’s able to kill off more than half.

You get over your shock quickly and fire your own tiny pistol at random, managing a few kills, but the Ghoul takes the last one and looks back at you, with an intrepid glance that you can’t figure out.

“What the hell was that?” You call out, and he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to pilfer the bodies, looking for shit to take. “Hey, Ghoul…”

“We came here to kill off those guys.” He answers you, but it’s not really an answer.

“Yeah, but I thought we agreed on discussing this shit as we were doing it. What happened to signalling?” You approach him, and as you get close enough, he turns around and stares unnervingly into your eyes.

“I did signal, sweetheart.” He clicks his tongue, lying through his teeth. 

“Bullshit.”

“No, I did.” He points at you. “It’s not my fault that you were too busy schmoozing and flirting to notice.”

“Wow.” You laugh exasperatedly at his antics, while he tilts his head. “You’re really obtuse, you know?”

“Nah. I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna say you’re not jealous–” At that word, the Ghoul snarls, ready to tell you exactly how little he cares for you, and you motion for him to zip it. “But at the very instance of seeing me flirt, mind you, in the most fake way possible, you lost it. You can’t even tell the difference between my genuine flirting and the fakest, schlockiest shit?”

“...” Coop frowns, because you’re right– he did kind of let his mind go wild over nothing in particular. 

Even worse, it means he’s made it apparent to you that he still harbours some feelings for your long-ago relationship. And that’s definitely a potential weakness– he does not want you to believe you can just work him around.

“Fuck you.” He spits, and instead of your face flinching in hurt, you stay neutral.

“I know you think you can come close and then shove me off every once in a while, because you’re fucking terrified of what it means that you’re not as hard as you pretended to be, that you still have a bit of human emotion inside you.” You tiptoe up to his face so he can’t avoid you. “I don’t care. That’s your problem.”

You turn to leave, to continue looting the bodies– and Coop’s hand wraps around your wrist. 

He hates what you’ve said, because it’s absolutely provoking the worst issue he has– he can never just let go. Two hundred years of this has made him a different creature altogether, spiteful; evil, but Coop knows as well as anyone that his transformation doesn’t negate his original nature, buried deep down.

It was a lie on his part– people are not as evil as he made them out to be, it’s the cycle of this situation that perpetuates that shit. Violence begets violence and all that. He can’t seem to say this to you, though, because he can tell you already probably knew that.

What is this fuckery, that you’re able to generate such a sense of guilt in him?

“Show it to me again. Genuine flirting.” he says instead, and he knows it’s stupid as hell to say something like this. “It’s been hundreds of years, you can’t expect me to fuckin’ remem…”

You grasp his arm back, making him quiet.

He’s half expecting you to punch him, but you see something you like– something that finally satisfies you, and you kiss his cheek, where you cut him much earlier in the day. It’s a soft bruise, mostly healed over in the way ghouls heal– but it’s overwhelmingly, embarrassingly hot there now as you pull away.

“I won’t forget the difference next time, Nuka-Cola.” He tips his hat at you in a mockery of his acting as a dashing cowboy once upon a time.

“Won’t be a next time.” You shrug. “I would hate to have to flirt with someone again just to get you to notice me.”

This severely bothers him, like you haven’t been an annoyance in his mind this whole time. And then he wonders if you’re an idiot, like you have no idea the effect you had on him back then, and even now. Hell, even that overly-chaste kiss has him remembering how he felt at Sebastian’s party when you humoured him the first time.

Do you think the only thing he’s burying is some empathy for the human race?

He can’t just let you be this wrong about this, no fucking way. And it’s with this in mind that the Ghoul feels his reserve melt as he tightly grabs your face and kisses you. Not a soft, movie-star kiss of the past, but one more hungry, his lips swallowing yours, pressed sternly, firmly, like he’s not gonna let you go. He parts his mouth ever so slightly, trying to catch a reaction from you.

You’re caught off guard, and he’s glad. He likes that you don’t know what to do with yourself, that for once you’re floundering rather than him, and you barely remember to kiss back until a couple seconds later when your hands grasp the base of his skull. You’re tracing grooves, calluses, skin that’s been eroded by his ghoulishness. You feel like he tastes ever so acidic– perhaps from the radiation emitting from his body– but some weird part of you loves it, and you part your lips as you kiss him harder, wanting to feel his tongue.

Your lips are just as soft as he remembers– but there’s more excitement now, more of an urgency as you kiss him, so he takes your invitation and swirls his tongue around on yours, disgustingly vulgar and perversely fast, yet lingering to enjoy the sensation, and he kinda loves being a corrupting force, being the ghoul who eats up this sweet human girl, and he tightens his grip– it almost hurts you, how tightly his hands weave around your waist suddenly– and then before you know it, he pulls away.

He wipes his mouth, never taking his eyes off of you.

“So. Did I taste like Nuka-Cola?” You joke, and he laughs in your face.

“Nope. Darlin, you haven’t been the Nuka-Cola girl for hundreds of years. They replaced you not long after you vanished.” He smiles widely at how your face drops. “I can show you some of the new girl’s billboards, if you’d like.”

“That would explain the lack of revenue.” You raise your eyebrows. “Then why do you still call me Nuka-Cola, Cola, etcetera?”

“That’s how I remember you.” It sounds too sweet, too nice that he keeps your nickname on tabs, so he twists his lips in a sneer. “Plus I don’t remember your name.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, finding his insult more funny than anything else, and turn around to take items from the bodies around you. “Okay, Mr. Howard.”

It was the optimal moment for you to joke back, calling him the Ghoul, but in classic you-fashion, you decided to extend an olive branch to him– reminding him that he’ll never just be the Ghoul to you. And even if Coop knows he’ll always remember you by Nuka-Cola, he has a fondness for you that he doesn’t neglect anymore– and he murmurs your name so softly, but just enough that you turn back and look at him, and smile with pleased recognition. 

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[bisexualiteaa]

actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want

A Flame in Your Heart

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader

AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.

“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.

#fallout x reader #fallout smut #fallout #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #sole survivor #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #asks

[artificial-transmutations]

Finally Together

When Jerry called, I could immediately tell something was very wrong. He was holding an ice pack up to his face and looked deranged overall.

"Jerry? What the hell happened to you?"

"Oh, hey. Yeah. This." he pointed at his face. "That's a long story."

"Let me see!" I demanded. You see, Jerry was, most definitely, my bff - my very best, very gay friend. And he had a talent for getting into trouble, sadly.

He slowly lowered the ice pack and I gasped. His right eye was swollen shut, and his face was covered in bruises.

"How..."

"Well, there was this guy. He was kinda hot, and totally my type, but, you know, straight as an arrow. At least *now* I know that." Even despite his bruises, Jerry raised his eyebrows in the cutest way possible - one of the traits I admired about them.

Yes, I should mention, I kiiiind of had a tiny little crush on Jerry. Or perhaps a gigantic one. You always want the ones you can't have, right? In my case, I was a woman - which was enough to disqualify myself rather finally.

"...and? Did he hit you?" I asked, even though I already suspected the answer.

"Yeah. I was just talking to him, trying to subtly find out his orientation. You know how it goes. Apparently, I wasn't too subtle about it, though, and he kind of escalated all over my face. It's no big deal, now I know."

Jerry smiled, but I could clearly see that it caused him pain to do so. It nearly broke my heart.

"It is a big deal." I answered. "That's horrible. You are worth so much more than this. Where did it happen? Did you call the police?"

"It was in the gym. Keith - that's the guy - works there, so, I guess, I need a new gym." Jerry joked. "And no, I didn't call the police, it's just... it's alright, okay Mathilda?"

I was not convinced but decided to let it go. Jerry was just a so sweet and innocent guy, he wouldn't even cause someone trouble if that someone punched in his face. I, on the other hand, was fuming. That was not a way to treat my bff! I would have really liked to kick that Keith's ass right now.

I chatted a bit more with Jerry before he had to go and promised him to come over that evening.

To be quite honest, I didn't plan to do anything, but when I was walking to Jerry's apartment in the afternoon, I passed his gym. I didn't even know it was on the way, because I honestly never paid attention to it much. But now that I saw it on the way, I couldn't help it. I would go in there and just tell the manager that one of their employees was a homophobic asshole. Just a little push in the right direction.

I entered the gym. It looked quite standard, but I couldn't see any manager or anyone else to talk to, for that matter, so I just went in there. It was quite empty, which was not surprising at this time of the day. There was, however, a young, muscular man doing push-ups. It was quite disgusting, actually, with all the sweat dripping down his body and a musky, penetrant smell was filling the room.

He stood up and greeted me.

"Hi, there. You're not a member, are you?"

"I'm not." I said. I felt like adding a "sorry" or something but decided against it. Instead, I clutched my handbag tighter.

"So, what can I do for you, ma'am?" He had that smug grin of an urge driven man who seemed to undress me with his gaze. I shuddered in disgust, but still, I straightened my back.

"Well, actually, I'm here to make a complaint."

"A complaint? About what?"

"Your staff."

"Oh? Do you have an issue with someone working here?"

"Well, yes. I just learned that one of your trainers, Keith was the name, I think, assaulted a customer. That is a terrible way to treat people, and I will not stand for it."

The guy laughed and flashed me a superior grin while he nonchalantly readjusted his groin. Free balling of course. Ugh. Can you spell 'toxic masculinity'?

"Look, honey. Whoever told you that, they lied to you. Keith would never hit a girl, especially not a pretty one."

I felt my face reddening from anger.

"First off, I'm not your honey, and secondly, it wasn't a girl but a guy."

The guy raised his eyebrows. "Really? A guy, huh?"

"Yes. He is my very good friend, and it's not funny at all."

"Hmm. Yeah, I think I remember the guy, some fruity fag who needed to be told a lesson."

Then it dawned on me. The disgusting guy in front of me was the man that had hurt Jerry.

"You're the one who did it! How dare you!" I exclaimed and tried to slap his face.

Before I could land a hit, though, he grabbed my wrist with an iron grip and grinned like a predator.

"Ah, ah. I wouldn't try that, if I were you. Would be a shame, if something were to happen to your pretty face, too."

I withdrew my hand and trembled from disgust.

"Ugh. You're just such a disgusting... jock."

In hindsight, I had no idea what happened, but perhaps some benevolent spirit or sprite was listening. In any case, Keith all of a sudden got a really strange expression on his face and looked really pale for a moment. And then... he suddenly looked even paler, like white paper or cloth. I will never be able to forget the expression of surprise on his face, as his body kind of... collapsed in on himself. His muscular torso diminished, and his arms and legs twisted and fused into thin rubber strips. But his face... His face contorted into a white fabric pouch that was completely devoid of any features within seconds. It had only taken a few moments, but Keith had disappeared.

I looked around first, but nobody else was in the gym right now. I carefully stepped closer and inspected what was left of Keith. Inside his black, damp gym shorts that was lying on the ground, I could see a pair of men's underwear, I believe it was called a jockstrap: A large fabric pouch held by rubber bands - designed to just cover the genitals, although, judging by the size of the pouch, rather large genitals. Now, as Keith had demonstrated quite clearly just a few moments ago, he had certainly not be wearing any underwear - and I had seen what had happened to his face.

With pointed fingers, careful not to touch the damp gym shorts and almost gagging from the strong smell, I picked up the piece of underwear. I had almost thrown it away again, when I noticed that it, too, was covered in sweat and stink. However, the piece of underwear that had once been a man held a strange fascination to me. I lifted it up to my face, to have a closer look, but didn't consider the consequences. When I breathed in, my nose was filled with the overwhelmingly strong and manly smell of sweaty, unwashed genitals, and it triggered something inside of me. All of a sudden, I felt tingly all over and groaned. My body felt weird all of a sudden. It was like that disgusting smell was all around me, enveloping me, pushing me to... change, somehow.

In horror, I felt my feet swelling up in my shoes. It wasn't painful, but it felt like I had been wearing boots that were way too small. The pressure was quickly getting unbearable and painful until my canvas shoes and thin socks couldn't take it anymore. First on the left and then, shortly after, on the right side, the toes of massive feet burst out from the footwear. The pressure subsided, and it felt fine again.

The changes didn't stop, though. Now that my feet had broken free from their restraints, my legs were the next to follow. A ripping sound heralded the death of my tights, as my legs gained mass and muscles. It looked almost comically how the threads of my tights were ripped apart, strand for strand. At the same time, I watched, as my hands grew larger. Gone were my delicate fingers, replaced by thick sausage-like appendages. Those new finger weren't carefully manicured but instead, I was now sporting short, ugly nails that would have been fitting for a lumberjack, rather than a girl.

While my legs were still growing, and I was getting visibly taller, my arms were next to follow. My blouse didn't even stand a chance as the arms did not only grew longer but most importantly, stronger. My biceps swelled like I visited the gym every day and, to my horror, I saw a tattoo forming on my right arm that reminded me a lot of the one Keith had had. I didn't have much time to think about it, though, as a new force practically ripped my blouse apart: My torso was pushing outward in all directions. My shoulders widened considerably, and my bra snapped from the strain. At first, I thought my boobs were growing, but it was quite the opposite. They were receding into my body, being replaced by even more massive and decidedly male pecs. Below them, a ripple went through my stomach, leaving behind the cobblestone road of abs.

The changes had met up at my midsection now and I was afraid of what was going to happen next. Sure enough, my skin-tight summer trousers bulged forward as something pressed against them from the inside.

"No..." I groaned, with a lower voice than I was used to, and tried to push whatever was appearing back into my midsection, but it was no use. With another ripping sound, a penis emerged from between my legs, quickly followed by a pair of testicles that pushed the ruined trousers down and settled in between my tree trunk-like thighs.

My head started swimming. That was wrong, that was so wrong. But the changes just went on. An Adam's apple formed in my throat, further lowering my voice, and my face reformed. It became squarer, and my jawbones became more pronounced. At the same time, my beautiful long hair receded into a short masculine cut. However, as hair disappeared on top of my head, it grew elsewhere. Or, should I say everywhere. Disgusting, wiry body hair grew in on my arms and legs and even on top of my enormous feet and the back of my hands. My chest was coated by a layer of short and coarse hair, and a treasure trail led down my midsection, where it disappeared into a thick pubic bush.

Speaking of bushes, two more formed in the large area of my armpits. Ugh. I was hairy like a fucking monkey. The only well-groomed bit of body hair was on my face, in the short beard that I could see in the gym mirror.

I could hardly believe my eyes. Staring back at me from the reflection was no one else but Keith. *I* was a splitting image of Keith now, only naked aside from the tatters of my clothes. I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a low grunt.

Okay, Mathilda, no reason for panic, I told myself. I would just... Go see a doctor. Yes. There had to be an explanation. This could be treated.

I took a step towards the exit and stumbled over the remains of my coughing. Oh, right, I was still naked.

The only piece of clothing was Keith's gym shorts. Well, his gym shorts and Keith himself, who was a piece of underwear now. I looked between the shorts and the underwear. On the one hand, I really didn't want to wear what had just been Keith, but on the other hand... I certainly wasn't going without any underwear. Everyone would be able to see the outline of my current genitals. Yuck.

So, lacking other options, I pulled on the white piece of underwear. It was, unsurprisingly, very sweaty, and it clung to my junk. I grimaced, but it was better than the alternative. My ass was still largely uncovered, but that was not as bad as the front side. I had to admit that my new equipment filled out the pouch pretty well.

I quickly shook my head and pulled on the gym shorts as well. It felt weird not to cover my chest, but that was probably acceptable in my current state.

Perhaps I could ask Jerry if I could borrow some men's clothing from him.

Oh my, Jerry. He was probably waiting for me. I grabbed my handbag and fled the gym.

Walking felt weird. Of course, regardless of my looks, I was still a woman, so I took small steps and refused to spread my legs too much while walking. It was very awkward. The sun was shining down and although it wasn't all *that* hot, I found myself starting to sweat. How disgusting was that? It was like those stupid mountains of muscle were producing so much heat that my skin was soon glistening with sweat and my armpits started to smell. I tested it by lifting an arm and taking a whiff. Ugh. I needed a shower, badly. I probably would be able to use Jerry's.

Jerry... I saw his face right in front of me in my mind. The cute smile, the adorable brown eyes, the cute little dimples on his cheeks when he grinned.

A strange feeling came over me from my groin area. What was going on down there? When I looked down, the ample bulge of my cock had become even bigger, probably tenting out the pouch that had been Keith's face. I groaned. Men were so primitive. All it took was one sexy thought and bam, erection.

Still, I couldn't deny that it felt pretty good. I checked it anyone on the street was looking before I felt the outline of the cock through the layers of clothing with my big hand. The touch made me moan, and I felt my member throb.

That's when I experienced the weirdest feeling. As the sweat from my groin mixed with the fluids seeping out of the cock head and were absorbed by the jockstrap, all of a sudden, I felt the presence of Keith - the real Keith. It was like a strong mental attack, to get his body back, but I fought back. It was not *his* body, it was mine, even though it may have looked like Keith right now.

It was the strangest experience. I could practically *feel* his thoughts and emotions. The humiliation from being wrapped around, well, *my* cock and balls, I could even taste and smell an echo of what he was tasting and smelling, including the weird taste of precum that had mixed into the face-pouch recently.

It wasn't easy, but I repelled Keith's mind and kind of stuffed it back into the underwear. When I continued my walk, I didn't even notice that I know walked like a man: With long, powerful strides and enough room for my balls.

Luckily, my cock had calmed down a bit by now, and I ran the rest of the way, just to make sure. I was glistening with more sweat when I finally arrived at Jerry's apartment and rang the bell. Ugh. That musk was so bad, I just hoped I could hop under the shower right away.

However, when Jerry opened the door, we were both stunned for a moment. I because Jerry looked even better in reality than when I imagined him. Foreign hormones flooded my system, coming from my balls and I just stood there for a moment. Of course, I had a crush on Jerry before, but right now, in this moment, I realized for the first time that now, Jerry wasn't quite as unreachable as before.

Jerry, on the other hand, backed away, an expression of fear on his face.

"Keith, what... Is this some kind of joke?"

I was taken aback by his reaction.

"No! It's not... It's me, Mathilda!"

"Who?"

"Mathilda, your best friend."

Jerry stared at me, confusion on his face.

"What are you talking about Keith? Wasn't it enough for you to bash my face in? Do you want to humiliate me now?"

"No, please. Listen, Jerry, you're my friend, and I would never hurt you."

He scoffed. "Oh really? My black eye says otherwise."

I could feel myself getting upset from all the testosterone and took a deep breath.

"I can explain. Please, Jerry, hear me out."

He looked at me skeptically.

"Fine. I'll listen."

With that, he let me into his apartment.

"Okay, first of all, can I take off these gym shorts? They are really really disgusting and sweaty, and they are clinging to my legs. Yuck!"

"Uh, oookay." Jerry looked even more confused but allowed it.

Gladly, I got rid of the stinking shorts and threw them at the ground, far away from me. Jerry frowned but was apparently more captured by my now only jockstrap-clad body that I sat down on his couch. I admit I wanted to get rid of the jockstrap, too, but then I would have been completely naked in my friend's living room.

The thought was oddly exciting, and I felt my cock raise in reaction.

I just hoped that Jerry wouldn't notice my state of arousal, even though there wasn't much fabric left to hide it, but I quickly spoke.

"So, Jerry, it's really me. Remember the time when we watched Star Trek: Voyager and had a pillow fight, and you beat me easily, even though I am taller and stronger?"

"How would you know about that, Keith?" Jerry crossed his arms. He had obviously noticed my midsection problem, which was throbbing now, leading to another wet spot on the piece of underwear.

"I'm telling you, I am Ma..."

Suddenly, I grabbed my head. There it was again. Keith had reacted to my arousal and was fighting for control of *my* body again. It was weaker this time, though, and although it took me a few moments, I pushed him back between my legs, where he belonged.

Finally, I spread my legs, man-spreading without even thinking about it and giving the whole world in general and Jerry in particular a good view of my massive groin. A smirk formed on my face. Having such a big cock was something to be proud of.

"...Mathilda." I finished my sentence, although I found the name rather unfitting for a stud like me. "I just kind of... transformed into Keith's body, but it's still the same old man as always. Woman, I mean."

"Uh... what?"

I smiled and stood up, slowly, so he could see all the muscles I had gained. I was taller, too, taller than Jerry even.

"But tell me, do you like what you see?" My cock was throbbing like mad now. God, I needed to have this man!

"Uuuh... uhm... yes? Yes."

I chuckled. "Well, Jerry. I don't know how to get back to my original body yet, but do you want to... touch this one?" I gently took his hand and placed it on my chest.

Jerry didn't react at first, but then he started caressing my chest. It felt great, and he moaned, too.

Another small spurt of precum spilled into my underwear and again, Keith acted up. It was even weaker this time, and I had no trouble staying in control. I did notice something else though. Apparently, Keith was enjoying this a lot, way more than a straight man should. He was almost addicted to my cock fluids by now, and he mentally lapped at my organ submissively. And he exhibited a longing for Jerry that appeared to be too deep-rooted to have developed recently. Well, good for him, because as my jockstrap, he would have a front row seat in what happened next.

"Mathilda, is it really... okay?" Jerry asked, barely being able to restrain himself.

"Yes Jerry." I said while looking into his eyes. "It's more than okay. It's perfect. And it's Matthew from now on, okay?"

I took a deep breath, breathing in my wonderful musky smell, and I watched Jerry do the same. And when I kissed him, I couldn't wait to tear his clothes off and plow his cute little ass with my mighty cock while my lucky jockstrap was watching.

#female to male tf #muscle transformation #straight to gay #inanimate transformation #sweat #musk #man stink #romance

[bigification]

Step Daddy

"You really need to get over your stepdad man." My friend tells me, concerned.

"Look, I'll try this one last thing and if it doesn't work then I'll give it up." I respond. "Did you bring the sunglasses?"

"Yes, but just remember he's like 25 years older than you. He's probably not going to be into you, even after this." He says as he hands me a pair of old pilot shades.

I told him I could let it go, but I can't. I'm just putting all my eggs into this basket, the sunglasses. Apparently they're supposed to transform someone who wears them mentally and physically to match my type. He already is my type, but I guess I wouldn't mind him bulking up a bit and growing some hair. It would be sexy if he got more charming, but he's already charming as it is. I guess there's only one way to find out.

I wait on the living room couch watching tv. He always gets home from work at the same time, so I know he'll be here any minute. I sit and stare at my reflection in the glasses. Am I really ready to change this man's life so drastically. My friend said no one else would take notice of the change, so it'll be like nothing happened. As I'm thinking over it, I hear the roar of his engine from the driveway. I try to calm down, but I can feel my body vibrate from the nerves. The door flies open.

"Hey buddy, hows it goin?" He asks me with his hot southern accent.

"Not bad. By the way, I found these sunglasses lying around, and assumed they were yours." I try to play it cool as I lie to his face.

"Oh, thanks. But these aren't mine." He responds.

"Well you might as well keep em, they don't fit me anyway." I try to convince him to take them without seeming too pushy.

"Well alright, thanks kid." He swipes the glasses and throws them on.

That was easier than I thought. As soon as he put them on, he stopped moving. His jaw slacked as if there was not a thought running through his mind. It started slow, his button up started to look a little bit tighter. His once flat chest started to push against his shirt and the shape of a belly started to show. Then it started to speed up. His chest started to pulse, growing in size with each one. They grew until the button on his collar popped off, then another button popped, then another and another. His juicy pecs flopped down after being released from his shirt. His stomach was next. His midsection widened and his stomach grew into a respectable beer belly, straining against his shirt. It wasn't long before more buttons began to pop, until his shirt was completely open. His arms also looked like they doubled in size, filling out his sleeves with thick muscles.

Next his legs start to look like they're gonna burst out of his dress pants. I can hear the rips ripple through his pants as his thighs grow inside of them. His ass fills out all the space in his pants and proceeds to rip open his fly and snap his belt in half. I can tell his underwear is barely staying in one piece as a large bulge formed in between his legs.

Finally his face begins to change. His once skinny face fills out with fat, giving him a rounder look. I can see that hair is falling out of his hat until he is left completely bald under there. Though in return his clean shaven face grows a bushy beard. But the hair doesn't stop there. It continues down his chest and to his belly, and presumably the rest of his body. He finally regains control of his body. He sighs as he stretched out his arms and cracks his knuckles before looking right at me.

"Come here, son." He says in a deep buttery voice.

A shock travels through my spine as I think he might know what I've done to him.

"What'd I say boy!" He raises his voice.

I jump a bit before I walk closer to him. I realize how imposing he is up close. He must have gotten taller because he seems well over six feet tall now, and at least 250 pounds.

"Daddy had a stressful day, why don't you help him release some tension." He says as he pushes me to my knees.

I blush, this is everything I wanted from this, it just happened so much faster than I thought.

"Don't be shy, boy. This will be our little secret." He says as he pulls his underwear down.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #hairy #reality change #muscle tf #male transformation

[ghouljams]

Me with regular Konig: baby boy. Baby. Let me pay him on the head and call him a good boy.

Me with fae! Konig: nasty. Nasty horrid man. Mangy alley cat. He has fleas all over. Give him a bath.

Me with Regency! Konig: Whore.

It's funny to me that Konig in the fae AU - as the "ultimate predator" - would have no reason to growl.

In the animal kingdom, an animal that growls wants to scare you away. An animal that doesn't growl wants to kill you.

Why alert your prey of your attack? Animals only really growl to scare away another animal instead of fighting it so they can conserve energy: Snakes hiss and rattle so they don't have to use up all their venom and be left vulnerable for another attack while they use valuable energy to produce more. Animals growl to scare predators away if they think they can't win the fight or don't want to get seriously wounded in the fight.

Konig would have no reason to doubt his ability to win a fight. Konig would have no reason to worry about conserving energy, he can find food easily. Konig would have no reason to fear being wounded because who could touch him?

And it makes sense that Konig wouldn't want to scare away those he wants gone, it's more efficient, easier, and more logical to kill them, that way they can't come back.

You know why he would growl? To impress a mate.

I mean, if he can't kill someone (however temporarily he'll let them live) lest he risk being banned again he can still make a show of it. Mate doesn't let him show how strong he is through his normal methods? Look, even these magical beings are scared of a measly little growl.

He would enjoy showboating I think too. How deep and rumbling his growl can be. Using his vocalisations to express other feelings as well.

You've also mentioned him enjoying the hunt with Libeling and stalking her without much noise but letting her be aware of his presence so she can feel at ease and he gets the thrill of the hunt. Which would tie into how he wants to respect her and wants her to see him and appreciate his strengths but not necessarily fear him too much.

I think it would be cute that during their first couple meetings Konig growls and Liebling of course assumes it's him throwing his weight around or trying to scare her and is upset. Whereas poor Konig is shellshocked because he didn't even mean to growl it just happened. For the first time in... Ever? Maybe?

He growled because he knows Liebling wouldn't like how else he deals with problems - why is he changing his behaviour for a human? He growled because he wanted to impress her - when was the last time he ever had to try to impress? He growled because for the first time in aeons he wants to communicate with another being - he's so used to wanting to maim and kill and hunt that he mistook the intense feelings as the same instincts he always had but were they something more?

Liebling, angry: Did you just growl at me?!

Konig, dumbfounded: did I just growl at you?

Just, Liebling angry at Konig while Konig is having an existential crisis.

Regency König is a WHORE.

Fae!König absolutely has no reason to growl. He has no reason to do a lot of things that he does in the modern age, he only does them because it helps him blend in. König has extremely weak magic, the man can use it but he's not adept wit it, he only taps because it helps him look more fae. He didn't growl until he met Liebling, because she considers it more polite than just ripping people to shreds.

König's natural noise is something more akin to clicking. Sort of like the Predator, but I also think of it like mandible clicks, something reverberating and distinctly inhuman. He's based off of a mammalian predators, but I don't think he made normal mammal sounds for a LONG time. Speech is sort of new to him, same with disguising himself. This is why he tends to lose control of his form when he's not paying attention to it(thank God for Liebling being a monster fucker).

You're dead on the money that König respects Liebling and wants her to see his power without fearing him. He has a huge amount of respect for her, not only because she's the only person that stands up to him, but also because she's incredibly smart and self sufficient. König loves how much she doesn't need him or want him, she has no desire for his power and so he has no issue giving it to her.

I think he growls for Liebling because he truly sees her as his better, as the one person that can match truly him. There are a lot of firsts from König in his relationship with Liebling, and a lot of confusing feelings that he's never really had before. Lust, sure, but love? Nope.

"Did you growl at me?" You try to fix the disbelieving glare on your face, your cup of tea half raised. König stares at you like he doesn't believe it either.

"Did I?" He asks, as if that will get him out of this.

He didn't mean to growl at you. The rumble in his throat had just slipped out. Something deep and aggressive had taken hold of him, something warm in the pit of his stomach. You eye him suspiciously, glaring over the rim of your cup. König can't offer an explanation. He hasn't made that sound before. There's no reason to warn anyone of his teeth, if they can see them it's already too late. But you...

You glance at the people passing by, enjoying the sunshine, the weather nice enough to sit outside your favorite bakery after work. Your lashes dust against your cheeks when you blink, your skin looking warmer for all the sunshine. You're close enough to see his teeth and yet you're not running scared. You've seen them, and you still sit across from him, still turn your attention away from him, your bare neck on display with all the trust in the world. You're so lovely.

The sound bubbles again, a reverberating growl in his throat that pitches down, attempting to escape lower. You glare at him from the corner of your eye and turn to face him.

"What?" You question, spit it like a swear as you set your cup down. König blinks, sits back in his seat, straightens to sit taller. He doesn't know. He has no reason to warn you of anything, no plans on eating you. He doesn't even growl at the fae unlucky enough to get caught in his claws. What threat could you possibly pose to him that he needs to warn you away? What energy does he need to conserve? His teeth don't run out of bite, his claws still rip and tear, he is as much the monster he always has been, and you are still small and soft comparatively.

"Nothing," He tells you, because truly there is nothing. He doesn't know what there might be to make him do this. "You're beautiful," he offers instead. Compliments always make you look away from him, and this time is no different. You press your hand against your cheek, leaning against the edge of the table and turning away from him. He can almost hear the blood rushing to your cheeks, feel the pout of your lips against his hand.

The sound settles lower now, rumbling in his chest pleasantly with the contraction of his lungs. It thrums through his vocal cords, and against his tongue, as soft as the curl of your fingers. You don't look at him this time, seem to try and twist further out of his view. Something sparking like recognition in your eyes. König tips his head to study you, brows drawing together.

Is it concern that flutters in his stomach? Is it aggression that clenches hot in his chest? Does he growl at you because you're so much greater a threat than he is?

"You're purring," You mumble, voice muffled by your hand, "it's embarrassing."

You say that, but all your lovely spider-silk tethers glow a pleasant gold, and König's heart beats a little faster.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #fae!König #1fae1 #long post #meta meta meta

[wh1msic4alwasab1]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

synopsis: Tartaglia shares you with your mutual friend: Zhongli, and you practically get tossed around for a whole night

tags: 3some, no protection, double penetration, vulgar, explicit

wrd cnt: 1.6k

a/n: repost/rewrite from first acc!

Tartaglia and Zhongli have a very interesting... friendship? You've heard much about it and you've been in contact with Zhongli for some time as well, as mere acquaintances.

One night, you're on your phone and get a text message from your lover Childe. He was getting a few drinks with Zhongli at a bar in Liyue.

You practically freeze and don't know what to respond, as he asks if you'd be willing to have a three way with Zhongli??...how drunk is he? You and Childe have a very untraditional sexual relationship so this wasn't too much of a surprise to you, you trust eachother.

How did they even get to this point in a conversation, you wonder.

You change into more suitable garments under a robe, waiting for someone to come home. After not too long, you hear the keys jingle in the doorknob, suddenly you're even more nervous than before and you see the door open; Childe walking in with Zhongli behind him.

"There she is!" Childe says to Zhongli, enthusiastic as ever as he comes over to you on the couch, kissing you before sitting down.

Zhongli follows and sits next to you, legs crossed.

"Baby, guess what!". He asks.

"Hm?" You reply.

"Our friend Zhongli here, well...I feel bad for even saying it, he's a virgin." Childe says, laughing…giggling like a little school girl.

"Was that really necessary to inform?" Zhongli asks, his palm hitting his face.

You eyes widen, you almost think he's lying.

Zhongli would never strike you as such, sure he's a gentleman but he doesn't seem to strike as incredibly inexperienced.

"Since we're all on the same page, I thought you could show him what he's missing", Childe says, his hand rubbing your inner thigh, as it's draped above his leg.

You turn to Zhongli, putting a hand on his upper thigh,

"I'd love to". You reply.

As if on que, his face turns bright red.

"Stand up", Childe demands.

And you do so, knowing where this is going.

"Make our guest a little more comfortable." He says.

You kick Zhonglis foot to the side, uncrossing his legs; giving yourself a seat. His breathe is already heavy, as he feels you straddle him.

Childe moves closer to two of you, sitting right next to Zhongli and you on top of him.

"Show him your pretty figure, my love."

You pick up Zhonglis hands, making him pull the robe open and reveal yourself to him.

The knot is broken and shortly after your rob falls to the floor; showing your black lingerie.

The lace barely covering your nipples, and a small peice of silk attached to ribbon holding up a small barrier to your pussy, strapped to garters that ran up your thighs; Zhongli eyes on every inch of you now.

"What do you think Li? She's so pretty, isn't she?"

Before Zhongli has time to answer him; Childe grabs the man’s face, moving it towards his own. He brings Zhonglis lips towards his, slipping his tongue into his mouth and biting his lip. "You go both ways yeah? It's the most fun like that." Your lover says, as you watch them exchange spit.

Childe then gives you an even more passionate kiss, as your hand reaches to Zhonglis collar; pulling him into you and dancing with his tongue as you feel his hands running up and down your body.

You break your kiss, and Childe stands up. immediately lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder, causing you to laugh.

Zhongli follows the two of you into your bedroom, disoriented and watching you get thrown onto the bed. You remove Zhongli's clothing while Childe has already ripped off his own. You sit on the bed, as the two men hover over you. You pull down Zhongli's pants, and watch his cock spring up.

You gawk at it a little, it was bigger than you thought.

"Go on Li, don't you wanna fuck that pretty mouth? She's practically drooling for you, aren't you, baby?"

You nod, and Zhongli holds the back of your head, gently pushing your face into him. You lick the entirety of his length, feeling the veins on your tongue.

Not wanting Childe to feel left out, your right hand finds his member, pumping it as you suck off Zhongli.

You look up at him, watching his head fall back as he moans for you.

The sounds of your wet mouth pleasing him almost mask the ones of Childe and Zhonglis lips against eachother. It didn't bother you, frankly it made you want both of them even more.

You feel Zhongli's massive cock twitch in your mouth, as his leg twitches and his grip on your hair tightens.

Suddenly, he pulls your mouth off him, spilling himself over your chest, some drops even hitting your face.

Childe laughs, "Already? You really are a virgin." He teases

Zhongli's eyebrows furrow as he gives Childe a look, before hearing you hold back a laugh.

"And what are you laughing about sweetheart?" You hear from Zhongli, a shift of tone in his voice.

You only laugh, looking at both of them while you lick the cum off your face with your fingers.

Childe lowers him self, picking you up and scooting you back on the bed. He gets on top of you, and licks Zhongli's cum off your chest, removing the top of your outfit and revealing your chest.

"Well don't just stand there." Childe mocks, pulling Zhongli by the neck and facing him to your cunt.

You can tell he's more comfortable now, boldly pushing your legs apart, and removing the cover on your lingerie.

Childe finished cleaning your tits, and guides Zhongli into licking your pussy.

"Make sure you suck right here Li, she fucking loves that." Child coos while rubbing your clit. You watch as Zhongli puts his fingers inside you, and his tongue finds your sensitive bud, sucking on it softly.

He's better than you thought, and his fingers feel so good inside you.

You can't help but wrap your hand in his long hair, pushing his face against you cunt, grinding on him while Childe puts his cock into your mouth, as he feels the vibrations of your muffled moans.

After some time, you can feel yourself coming so close, your hand grips the sheets while your grind yourself on Zhongli's face, tears forming in your eyes from your lovers throbbing dick fucking your mouth, slapping the tip of his length on your tongue.

Zhongli's face is buried inside your cunt, his hands holding your thighs as they squeeze the sides of his face. He devours you like he's starving, and Childe is already cumming inside your mouth. All the stimulation causes you to release all over Zhongli's mouth.

"So sweet y/n, give me more...", Zhongli whispers. To your surprise, he's lapping up all the cum spilling out of you.

Childe watches the both of you, his cock even harder now.

"You like this baby? We're nowhere to done yet." Childe urges Zhongli to pick you up, which he does with such ease.

You feel Childes chest on your back, his cock snug against your bare ass, as Zhongli holds you up by the waist. Your arms wrap around him and his cock is rubbing against your folds.

You feel Childe kiss down the back of your neck.

Your face is so close to Zhongli, you can feel his breath on you; you couldn't take it anymore. You put your lips on his and he's eager to wrap his tongue around yours. You trial your lips down his face, now on his neck. You hear his small groans, and your heat grows even more.

Suddenly, you feel the weight of Childes large palm smack your ass, you moan, right into Zhongli's ear.

Childe pulls you back by the neck, so he can whisper into your ear, "Don't forget who you belong to now, or you'll have to beg me to stop reminding you."

"Maybe you should remind me anyways." You reply, looking into Childes eyes.

He doesn't respond to you, but to Zhongli:

"Li, don't stop until I tell you to, yeah?" Zhongli nods softly, lowering you down on his cock. Sultry moans escape your mouth, he feels even bigger inside you than in your mouth.

You'd think you'd regret talking back to your love, but fuck does it feel good to have Zhongli pound you, his veiny cock feels so good inside inside.

That's until you feel Childe insert himself into your hole, at the same time. Both of their cocks stuff you so full, to the point your moans become breathless. They move at such different paces, Zhongli is rougher than expected, pounding his cock inside you and feeling your cunt tighten around him, while Childe slowly fucks you, but he stuffs you so deep it drives you insane.

You can't hold anything back anymore, you're screaming for both of them to stop, creating white rims around the base of their cocks.

"Mmm...fuck, Zhongli, please I can't cum anymore please.." He only speeds up, your pleads turning him on even more.

"I'm sorry dear...take it up with your lover."

Zhongli says.

"You've already cum so much, what a little slut...I warned you didn't I?"

"Childe-!... please", you beg, hoping for some mercy.

"You can take it baby, look how much fun he's having stuffing this little pussy." He says, spanking you again and watching you jump.

It feels like an eternity has passed by, and Zhongli and Childe are still rutting into your sore little cunt, grunting and moaning at how tight you wrap around their throbbing cocks. You feel them start to get sloppy, just rutting into you with no thought. Not long after, you feel Zhongli's hot liquid coating you, followed by Childe warm, thick ropes. Their cum getting mixed inside you and dripping down to coat you all.

Zhongli's head drops down to your shoulder, as his breath slowly stabilizes.

Childe begins to chuckle, and you hear a pop sound as both of them remove themselves from you, more and more cum spilling out onto the floor. “Well that was one hell of a first time huh?." He says to Zhongli, who’s utterly exhausted.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

#jo’s posts #genshin impact smut #tartaglia x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin smut #tartaglia smut #tartaglia #childe tartagalia #genshin tartagalia #tartagalia genshin impact #childe #childe smut #ajax #zhongli smut #zhongli #zhongchi

[hihomeghere]

megan, darling sunshine, i have the softest of soft requests for you with our favorite cowboy. 🥺

can i request #6, #34, #36, #41, #83 with arthur? i desperately need protective, soon-to-be dad!arthur in my life. it's what we all deserve, honestly. 🤍

thank you so much! i can't wait to see what absolute magic you make with these prompts.

Deserving | Arthur Morgan / Reader

First off let me give you the fattest smooch <3

Word Count : 1.9k Prompts : 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick? Warnings/tags : Cursing, talk of abandonment, Reader is 5 months pregnant, Arthur deserves a second chance at being a father, Self degrading talk on Arthur's part, Switch POV.

Arthur was aware it was a tad foolish the way he was feeling. Although seeing you growing his child has awakened something that had been lying dormant in him. Something that he hardly understood himself. A primal feeling, knowing that he was the one who made you like this. That it was his seed that had made you grow swollen and round and so damn gorgeous. 

He was also painfully aware of the gold ring in his pocket, his nerves eating him from the inside out. He had never been so nervous in his entire life, more nervous than when he went on his first job. Unlike a job he had never felt more unprepared. He had always wanted children, and he had dreamed of having children with you. But Jesus, he was terrified he would turn out like his old man. He didn’t- no - he couldn’t mess up this time. Not with you. Yes, he loved you. God he loved you more than anything. Arthur did not necessarily believe in soulmates. Perhaps when he was younger he could have believed that his soul could be tied to another person, but he wasn’t that foolish anymore. Love was something you worked for, it wasn't predestined by whatever god was above. He knew you could easily find another man to love you, even with the babe. He also knew you deserved someone better than him. You deserved the world, deserved someone who would build you a home, someone who hadn’t been too damn chicken to ask you to marry him before knocking you up. But he also knew that no man could love you like he loved you.

“You’re staring Arthur.” You chuckled, raising a brow as you turned to face him. Your hand resting on your hip as you leaned on the boar skinned table.

“You’re glowing.” He said softly, not denying the fact that he had indeed been staring at you. How could he not? You were really glowing, he hadn’t known that that silly saying about pregnant women was the truth. You were like some angel, the glow coming from within, lighting up the small tent. If he squinted he swore he could see a halo around your head. Especially when your bump had finally shown itself. 

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you went back to whatever task you were working on. He walked up behind you, his deft fingers working on removing his gun belt. Laying belt down on the table before pulling you against his chest.

His hands lovingly squeezed your hips, before moving to your stomach. He sighed contently, laying his head in the crook of your neck. Breathing in your sweet smell, his calloused hands running over the soft fabric of your skirt. His heart nearly stopped as he felt the swell of your abdomen. Nearly brought to his knees by such a small thing. Well it wasn’t exactly small anymore, you had finally ‘popped’. 

“‘Think you’re showing, sunshine.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he swayed with you in his arms. You giggled, shying away from his lips as they brushed against your neck.

“I would say so, can’t fit in my damn pants anymore.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued to patch a hole in one of his shirts. 

In all honesty, you hadn’t been able to fit in your pants for a long time. It had been almost four months since the fateful day you told Arthur you were pregnant.

-

You had all the telltale signs, breast tenderness, food aversions, etc. Along with Abigail’s damn knowing glances, and then your monthly cycle had been absent, confirming your suspicions. You had nearly gone mad, a million thoughts running through your head. How were you supposed to care for a child with the lifestyle you had? You had briefly discussed children with Arthur, but it was always in the future. When you weren’t being chased by the law or Pinkertons or whoever. You didn’t want your child to be raised how either of you were raised. Always on the run, never having a true safe place to call home. Speaking of the future, marriage had always been a talk for the future as well. Now you were here, an unwed mother. 

And then there was Isaac and Eliza. That was a whole new can of worms to throw into the mix. Would he even want to have a child right now? Would he still want you after he found out? If he left you what would you do?

You would manage, that’s what you always did. But you didn’t want to go through this without him. 

He had found you pacing near camp, nearly chewing your lip off. His heart constricted in his chest as he watched you.

“Everything alright darlin’?” He asked, pulling you out of your downward spiral. A similar concerned expression on his face as he took you in. You met his bright blue eyes and instantly you fell apart. Tears welled up in your eyes as he rushed over to you. Taking long strides across the grass before pulling you into his broad chest. His calloused hands warm and loving as they rubbed up and down your back, your body shaking with sobs you couldn’t control. “Darlin’ you’re scaring me.” He said softly, laying his chin on the top of your head. “Talk to me sunshine.”

“Arthur I think-“ You let out a shaky breath, “I think I’m pregnant.” You cried, tears clouding your vision as you looked up at him. 

He was frozen, his brain short circuiting as he tried to process the words you had just said. He must have heard you wrong. 

“What… what did ya say darlin’?” He asked, his hands on your biceps as he held you in front of him. His brows furrowed and his lips drawn into a thin line. 

“I’m pregnant Arthur.” You said, your lip trembling as you waited for his response. You were trembling in his grasp, your heart pounding against your rib cage. 

“Okay.” He nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it all. Goddamn it Morgan, you’ve gone done it again. Are you seriously the most foolish man alive? His thoughts spiraled into their usual degrading speech. Here you were shaking in his arms like a damn leaf and he was too damn stupid to say anything. Say something, anything, to stop her from crying. Your tears tugging on his heart strings. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He cooed, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry, please.” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“M’sorry-” You sobbed, looking down.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize for this.” He said holding your face, “If anyone ought to apologize, it should be me.” He said, shaking his head. You bit your lip, looking up at him.

“Arthur, what are we gonna do?” You asked, finally calmed down enough to speak a coherent sentence. He clenched his jaw, looking off to the side.

“Do you want this?” He asked softly, running his hand down your arm. Taking your significantly smaller hands in his, squeezing them gently.

“I-“ You sighed, letting out a long breath. “I think I do.” You nodded, hesitantly raising your head to look at him. He exhaled a breath of relief. 

“Okay.” He nodded, “I want this too.” He said, giving you a reassuring smile. You couldn’t help but let out an equally relieved breath, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah?” You asked, chuckling breathlessly. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, chuckling along with you. “You know I won’t let anything happen to you, you or the baby, I swear.” He said gently pulling you closer, his hand moving down to caress your stomach. 

-

You smiled at the memory as Arthur rubbed his hand over your bump.

“They movin’ any?” He asked, kissing your cheek.

“They have been most of the day.” You chuckled, following his lips with your cheek as he pulled away. You turned around in his grasp, laying your hands on his chest. “They’d probably move if you talked to them. You know how the baby loves hearing you talk.” You said, smiling up at him. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with pride.

 He knelt down, feeling his mothers ring slide lower into his pocket. As he knelt face to face with your round belly, he couldn’t have been more thankful that Mary had returned his ring. That things hadn’t worked out between them, because if they did, he would have missed this. 

He pressed his lips against your belly in a chaste kiss, before chuckling softly to himself. “Hey there kid.” He said, his grin growing if that was even possible. “Ya bein’ good for ya mama?” He asked, running his hand over the tight skin. He felt a small kick under his palm, looking up at you for confirmation that it wasn’t a part of his imagination. “Was that a kick?”

“Sure was.” You chuckled, laying your hand over his. He chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at your belly. There had been too many nights lying next to you on his small cot, twirling the ring in his fingers. Just trying to work up the courage to ask you. Even before your belly started to swell he had dreamed of asking you. He just wanted everything to be perfect, although in hindsight it was a foolish thought. Things would never be perfect, that was the thing wasn’t it?

Now was the time. He knew it, kneeling here in front of you, but how was he gonna ask? How was he gonna get past the lump in his throat?

“Hey kiddo, ya think I could have a moment with your mama here?” He asked, a nervous smile on his lips as he looked up at you. “I got a question for her.” It was now or never. He reached into his pocket, his sweaty fingers grasping the small gold ring. He took in a deep breath before finding your gaze, holding out the ring to you. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, tears pricking your eyes.

“This… well this ain’t how I imagined this. I wanted to do something special for ya and I should’ve done this a long time ago. I promised ya when we found out about the kid I wouldn’t let anything happen to ya. I mean to keep that promise. There are men more deserving of you, hell I’m probably the least deserving-“ You scoffed shaking your head, “But none of those men could ever love you the way I do. So, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He asked, gingerly holding your left hand. 

“Yes, yes!” You cried, grinning as he slipped the ring onto your finger. He let out a breath of relief, getting to his feet. You threw yourself into his arms, laughing as tears slipped down your cheeks. 

“It’s uh- I know it’s nothing fancy but-“ He said softly, “It was my mothers and I know she’d want ya to have it.”

“It’s perfect.” You said, pulling away to admire the ruby ring. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled, wiping away your tears as you admired the ring. Arthur’s heart warmed at your words. He would never know what he had done to deserve someone like you, you and the baby. Although he may not have said his vows at that moment, he made a silent one in his heart. As long as his heart was beating, and there was still breath in his lungs, nothing would ever happen to either of you.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur #red dead redemption arthur #red dead #red dead redemption #rdr #hihomeghere #mini prompt #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john Marston #abigail roberts #abigail marston #javier escuella #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x pregnant reader #jack marston

[koolades-world]

I have a request for an MC who's never been called beautiful or handsome before, so when they're complimented, they ask why and just start to cry. The brothers (plus Dia and Barbatos, if it's not too much to ask, of course) are shocked at their tears and find out that their human had never been complimented before this moment.

Sorry if it's too specific, I had this experience and I cried for way too long, I just want to know how the boys would react.

hi there! yes of course :)

no worries about the specifics and such. so glad someone called you stunning like you are. you and everyone readying this: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL HANDSOME STUNNING GORGEOUS PRETTY!!!!! if nobody has told you that today, know that you are!! you deserve the world :)))

enjoy <3

Mc who cries after being called beautiful/handsome/stunning

Lucifer

right after you had finally taken your last RAD exam, you thought you looked like a mess and you vocalized that

he swooped into to disagree and called you handsome

he’s quick to comfort you when you start to cry because he’s not quite sure why

when he finds out it’s because he called you handsome, he dabs always your tears and makes a mental note to call you good looking more often

Mammon

he called you it kind of in the heat of the moment

but that he didn’t mean it, but he was just so excited! you’d just helped him win a huge bet and made him loads of grim so it slipped out in a long string of compliments

he slows down once he sees you crying, and wipes your tears

he tells you he’d call you beautiful over and over again if you wanted because he really did think you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen

Levi

he really worked himself up to compliment you like this

after all, as a chronic overthinker, he sat for while thinking about the implications and how you might react

once he finally said it after almost chickening out, he totally freaked out after you burst out into tears

the following ten minutes were chaotic to say the least, but in the end he knew it was out of joy

Satan

omg I can literally see him reciting the iconic lines to you from Romeo and Juliet

this man is so extra in subtle ways

you’re gorgeous and he wants to you to know

by the time he’s at the end of his lines, you’re of course a blubbering mess but he’s there for you, ready to melt your heart all over again

Asmo

he often throws around that word comfortable

so, it's only natural he ends up calling you it once or twice

he didn't even realize the way you froze and started to tear up after

eventually he turns around and sees the silent tears rolling down your cheeks with a smile, and pulls you into a hug. he's gonna be calling you that a lot more from now on :)

Beel

he probably says it in passing after you called something or someone else pretty

something along the lines of “you’re pretty too” simple and to the point

he feels several moments of panic until you start to try to reassume him that they’re not bad tears

every time you call something else pretty or something along those lines, he thinks of that moment and says what he said back then with more purpose

Belphie

he for sure tells you while the two of you are our stargazing

out of the blue, he rolls over and tells you you remind him of the brightest, twinkling star and that you shine in the same, brilliant, beautiful way

without looking back at you, he returns to star gazing as you begin to silently sniff

he pulls you into his side, gently smiling and hugging you tight

Diavolo

after getting ready for a party and putting on the finished touches on your outfit, you turned to him to ask how you looked

after he told you you looked incredibly handsome, you couldn’t stop the waterworks from flowing

he’s very afraid at first he said something wrong but after you explain it’s just because you’ve never been called that before, his whole demeanor changes

he personally delivers handwritten notes to you daily during RAD that are just all the things he loves about you in them now <33

Barbatos

when he gives out a compliment, it’s very deliberate

he thinks very carefully about what he wants to say, not because he’s afraid he’ll say something wrong, but because he really wants it to mean something

when he called you and your work pretty along with a few other things, he wasn’t sure how to initially react to your tears

but eventually when you started to hug him, he hugged you back and comforted you. he has the little d’s make a routine or complimenting you too :)

#obey me #obey me! #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date

[2kmps]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 18+ | 2.8k

story summary; your granduncle explains that the noises at the bottom of the lighthouse and the missing chunk out of his leg are from swimming rats. you let him think you're a fool.

story warnings; some graphic depictions that some may consider gory, mentions of biting, mentions of rats, creature in captivity, explicit sexual content, double penetration (not safe), prose + detail heavy, implied breeding, not proofread.

if you enjoyed it, please reblog + interact!!

Granduncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Granduncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, granduncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Granduncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much to at the bottom; a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brought a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

“Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by goose pimples as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

"Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n: not my best work, but hopefully passable. it's really helpful when y'all reblog, so please do so!!!

I don't really have any comments on this because I'm starting over from zero on the long-fic of the aquatic monster story bc I hated what I had lmao.

anyway, please keep in mind that is a concept piece. chances are that none of this will be present in the actual long-fic. this just helps me to explore ideas and familiarize myself with characters.

#monster fic #monster x human #monster fucker #monster romance #monster story #monster x y/n #monster x you #monster x reader #sea monster #aquatic monster x reader #aquatic monster x you #writing #original fic #original story #original writing #original work #oc x y/n #oc x you #oc x reader #2k writes #.02 #monster fiction #romance #dark fiction

[miloformula123fan]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? With him being the team principal for Merc, it was expected that she would also support the team and she did. But, she was and still a tifosi at heart and everyone knows it. So when Carlos wins the Australian GP and Charles P2, she sang her heart out during the national anthem was being played. He could see how much she loved the team and he wouldn't want her to stop supporting it. Because he always knew, whatever happened she would stick by his side no matter what. Just something fluff and sweet. Thanks!! :)))

okay, this is short, but the bachelor fic is really long, but im trying to empty my inbox while writing it, so, a little short :)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

toto wolff x female!wife!tifosi!reader

“And um, while we’re on light hearted topics, moving on from Carlos’ miraculous recovery, i do just want to bring up Y/N Wolff, was at today’s race, obviously horrible race for Mercedes, and we really did think she would be quite upset by it, but um, she was later spotted in the Ferrari crowd.” Damon Hill said, trying to avoid getting trampled in the Australian paddock

“Yeah, it was a little odd, we did ask a couple of Mercedes mechanics that we ran into, and they all seemed to know what we were talking about and they all had these knowing smiles, and Shov even quoted Seb saying ‘everyone is a ferrari fan. Even if they say they are not, they are a ferrari fan’ so very odd things going on in the Mercedes garage.” Paul di Resta mentioned

“Let’s um, let’s cut to the footage so you know what we’re talking about.” Damon Hill pointed at the screen.

The Sky broadcast cut to a past shot from the podium. The shot was pretty simple, Y/N standing in her Mercedes shirt, standing out in the sea of red and orange shirts. The anthem and the Italian engineers made it difficult to hear, but her body language and the fact that she was mouthing the words to the Italian National Anthem, with her arm around Fred’s shoulder, swaying side to side.

The camera then panned to Toto, who had an adorable look on his face. It had obviously been a horrible weekend for Mercedes, but he had a grin on his face as he watched Y/N cheering for ferrari. Multiple mechanics were calling out his names as he gazed at his wife looking at the ferrari boys.

“Damn he’s whipped, i think that’s what all the kids are saying these days.” Paul di Resta said

“And speak of the man himself, hey Toto. Got time for a chat?” Damon Hill called out to the tall Austrian, as he walked past. Toto nodded and grabbed a microphone.

“Toto, we obviously saw your wife celebrating the ferrari 1-2, should we be concerned that she is leaving you to join Lewis at Ferrari?” Paul di Resta asked

“No, not at all, whatever happens, I have faith that my wife will stick by my side no matter what. I also don’t think she finds the guys with no hair attractive, so better luck next time Fred.” Toto shrugged before wandering off, probably to find his wife.

--

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @pear-1206

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff fic #toto wolff #toto wolff x female reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n

[xx-like-a-villian-xx]

For The Last Time | One

“It had been months since you’d seen each other, five and three days to be exact (not that he was counting or anything), months since you had broken up with him. You said it was for the best, that your careers were more important but Noah didn’t think so.”

What I thought was going to be a lil angsty one shot has become a multiple part cry fest ahhh. Here’s part one <3

I'm posting this because it's in my drafts x

My ao3 is HERE

Also let me know if you want to be tagged in any upcoming posts :)

CW: post break up, angst, Noah has lots of feelings, “talking” about feelings, loads of swearing

(Dropping this because it was burning a hole in my drafts and I just wanted to get it out there)

18+ MDNI | Noah Sebastian x Reader

“Thought I’d find you here.” Your voice reached Noah’s ears like a siren song and it was infuriating.

He turned slightly, watching you approach him in that dress, that fucking dress that hugged every single curve on your body so perfectly it made him feel crazy, feral. He had been trying his damned hardest to avoid you all night and of course you found him, cigarette between his tattooed fingers, on the balcony, moping.

“The party is wild in there.” You gestured to the balcony doors that were muffling the sound of chatter and loud music inside.

“Yeah, I just needed some quiet.” His voice was gruff when he spoke and it only made you roll your eyes.

It had been months since you’d seen each other, five and three days to be exact (not that he was counting or anything), months since you had broken up with him. You said it was for the best, that your careers were more important but Noah didn’t think so.

You see, Noah would have walked through fire, jumped in front of a bullet, he would have stolen the moon from the fucking sky if you asked him to but you didn’t feel the same and as much as it hurt to watch you walk away, he did because he loved you. Issue is, he just couldn’t get over you.

He had avoided you like the plague for months but it was getting progressively harder because you shared friends. Usually it was easy, he left when you showed up, he asked around to see if you were going to events so he could make excuses not to go. It was fine, he hated socialising at the best of times so it was no skin off his nose.

Then you showed up to the album release in that fucking dress and his heart just about dropped out of his ass. And the worst part? You had some six foot four Doberman energy gym rat on your arm. That’s when he found himself storming out to the balcony with a half drank bottle of Hennessy and a pack of cigarettes he had stolen off the kitchen island.

He didn’t dare look at you again, instead his eyes stayed trained on the twinkling lights of the city when you joined him at the railing, your warmth burning his skin like acid.

”How have you been?”

Well that was a loaded question. What was he meant to say? ‘Oh yeah, I’m fantastic, nice to see you, Y/N. Who’s the hunk?’ Nah. He would rather put his hand in a blender.

“Fine.” He wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Instead he stubbed the cigarette out and took a long swig of the cognac, letting it burn down his throat in an attempt to quell the anger boiling in his blood.

He could feel you shift uncomfortably next to him and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. What did you have to feel uncomfortable about? You practically tore his heart out and curb stomped it. And to add a cherry on top of the shit icing, you decided his fucking album release party would be the best time to hard launch your new man.

Noah really, really wasn’t in the mood and he was practically begging the gods to make you just go inside and forget about it, enjoy your night and have fun but instead you reached out, took the bottle from his hands and took a huge swig.

Fuck.

“Shouldn’t you be with your date, Mick is it?” He finally grits through a clenched jaw.

You chuckle lightly. “It’s Mike, and he’s talking to Folio about fishing.”

Betrayer, of course he would be. Trust Folio to be rubbing shoulders with the enemy over fucking fishing poles.

Noah hums, running a hand through his recently cut short hair.

”It suits you, you know, short hair.” He turned to you fully with furrowed eyebrows. What was your game?

God you looked fucking beautiful, your hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of your neck, curled strands framing your face. Sharp wings of eyeliner made your eye colour stand out beautifully in the low light, along with those dark lashes and your lips were painted a shade of red that could only be described as unholy and fuck, he just wanted to feel them on his again.

”You think?” His voice was weak and he internally kicked himself for even looking at you because his knees felt weak and his stomach felt like it might explode.

You smiled that smile that he fell for all those years ago, reaching your hand out to brush a stray piece of hair from his eyes.

Yeah, he was well and truly fucked, done for, so fucking completely in love with you. He was never getting over you.

“Hey, we’re about to play the album.” Nicholas’ voice from the balcony door made you jump back away from Noah.

”See you inside, yeah?” He nodded at your words, watching you walk back inside to Mike, planting a soft kiss on the guy's cheek and Noah wanted to vomit.

Nicholas was staring at him with a smirk.

”Shut the fuck up.” Noah pointed at his best friend, grabbing the bottle of Hennessy before pushing his way inside.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Noah had been shifting uncomfortable in his seat, your narrowed eyes burning into him for almost an hour. You were clinging on to every fucking lyric he wrote and he knew he was in for it the moment you could get him alone again.

So as soon as the album had played through and chatter started up again, he was up on his feet, moving across the room before you could get to him.

”Hey, Noah isn’t it?” Oh for fuck’s sake. Mike held a hand out to him,

Noah hesitantly shook it with a smile that he was faking hard, gritting his teeth. “Yeah, nice to meet you…Mike?”

The taller man grinned. “Yeah, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend but I’m guessing you already know.”

Yeah, he fucking does know.

“It’s so sick that she knows you guys, I’ve listened to your last two albums and they go hard, man.”

Noah nodded, smiling, looking behind the guy to see you storming towards them with clenched fists.

“Look, Mike, I’m sorry to cut this short bu-“

“Hi babe, what are we talking about?” Fuck, you were now standing next to Mike, staring up at Noah with a false grin that screamed ‘I’m going to fucking kill you’.

”Oh, I was just telling Noah how much I fuck with the music babe.” Mike was completely unaware of the frustration bubbling in your bones, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

”That’s lovely.” You cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Could you give Noah and I a second to talk, Folio is looking for you I think.”

Shit, shit, shit. There was no way he was getting out of it now. Mike leaned down to pull you into a kiss before strutting towards Folio and Noah just about wanted the ground to swallow him up right there and then.

”Downstairs, now.”

He had no choice but to follow you down the stairs like a lost dog, shuffling his feet as you stomped down the steps. As soon as you reached the outside, you turned to him with flailing arms.

”What the fuck is all that, Noah? You think that’s okay, airing our dirty laundry out like that?” You were seething, face turning beet red.

”It’s music, Y/N, not everything is about you.”

“Oh so ‘someone else’, ‘the death of peace of mind’ and what was the other one? ‘Bad decisions’? They’re not about me? Right…so the pretty much direct fucking quotes from our break up aren’t there? Sure.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

”First of all, it’s ‘somebody else’. Second of all, why does it matter? You’ve clearly moved on. I mean fuck me right?” He laughed incredulously, running a hand through his hair. “You said that you didn’t want to be with me anymore because your career was taking up all of your time and energy and then you show up here with a new guy, smushing face with him in front of me and my brothers like nothing happened. We were together for six fucking years, Y/N!”

He took a deep breath, chest heaving. You stared up at him with glassy eyes full of fire but he was past caring by that point.

”So forgive me, darling, for pouring my heart into my music. Our break up is still a fresh wound. I genuinely thought that we were gonna be end game and yeah, I’m not fucking over it. Did you even listen to ‘Just Pretend’, huh?”

A tear fell from your lashes onto your cheekbone, your face softening and Noah couldn’t watch. He hated the bullshit, the anger, the sadness. He just wanted to wrap you up in his arms and go back to when everything was okay, back when you were still his. Fuck, it was too much.

”Look, I’m sorry for shouting. I just find it really hypocritical of you to be going off at me like that when you completely blindsided me tonight.”

You nodded your head quickly, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. He was right, you had no place to be upset when you had hurt him, really fucking hurt him.

Noah could hear Jolly calling his name from inside and he sighed. “Maybe we can talk about all of this over coffee sometime next week. It’s a conversation we really need to have, cut the loose ends so both of us can move on, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was quiet as a mouse, eyes trained on your shoes.

He wanted to reach out, pull you into his chest and comfort you but it wasn’t the right time, he didn’t think it would ever be. You had someone else to hold you and he was upstairs waiting.

“Text me, my number is still the same.”

With a sad smile, he turned, making his way back inside.

#noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #bad omens band #badomens #bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian x reader #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson #nick folio #reader insert

[blackypanther9]

If you had a Boyfriend and Alastor meets him – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

WARNING!: Racism, threatening, Offensive behavior AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

A/N: Don’t forget that this is just fanfiction and in the 1920s ! Nothing of this I support ! You are who you want to be, no matter what you look like ! <3 (Art belongs to rightful owner and don't mind the color ! It is just to show you that it is about both versions and indeed Alastor from HH and not a different Alastor !)

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1 @wen01203

Human version:

So...you met this man, yes ? He was an absolute sweetheart. You dated him, without your Father even knowing that you had a boyfriend. Until, of course, one of his coworkers snitched on you by your Dad. He came home quick and demanded to meet him.

You did as your Dad asked of him and your partner came as quick as possible as he heard that your Father demanded to meet him. Now you three sat in the Living room, Alastor stared your Lover down, while he did the same.

“So, Cher, what’s his name ?”, your Father asked.

“His name is BF/n. We met a few months ago and he courted me for 3 months now. He is an absolute Sweetheart, Pa.”, you said happily.

Alastor’s smile didn’t fall, but he narrowed his eyes at your partner. He didn’t like nor trust him.

“Really, mon petit (My little one) ?”

“Yes !”, you chirped happily.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir. I’ve heard a lot about you, from your Daughter. Only good things of course.”, your boyfriend said with a fake smile.

Alastor nodded his head at him in respect, then looked at you again.

“Mon ange (My Angel), why didn’t you tell me sooner ?”

You fiddled with your fingers and looked away.

“I wanted to see if this will even work out, Pa. I also didn’t want you to worry. Don’t be mad, please.”, you said gently.

You never kept secrets from him, but you just didn’t want him to think that you were forced into a relationship. You knew how your Papa was and he was very overprotective. You wanted to see where this was going with your boyfriend first. Until now, he was just like your Pa, a Gentleman.

“I see...Cher...can we talk in private ?”, your Father asked you.

“Of course, Papa.”, you replied and got up.

The two of you went into the kitchen and talked in hushed voices, so your partner can’t hear you two clearly.

“Why didn’t you tell me, be honest.”, your Father pressed.

“Pa, we both know how you are. You are very overprotective. You would have been worried all the time about me and I didn’t want to stress you any more than you already were. You also deserve a break. I wanted to see where this was going for now, before I would have told you anything. Maybe it wasn’t even working out.”, you replied.

“Did he hurt you ? Force you into this ? Anything ?”

“No, he didn’t. He is like you, Pa. A total Gentleman. He was planning on taking me out tomorrow for a little bit of cake and coffee. I could ask him if he minded you to come along. You’ll see, he is so sweet.”, you told him with a smile.

“Cher, I don’t like sweets.”, he deadpanned.

“Papa, they have the best coffee and they have also non sweet cakes. It’s a new Café. Oh, please come along and look at it yourself ! Maybe you like it even so much that you will talk about it in your Broadcast.”

He gave you a long look, contemplating. Then he sighed in defeat and nodded.

“Alright, mon petit. BUT ! If I see him step out of line even ONCE, I will not let you continue to date him.”

You gave your Father an eager nod, which made Alastor smile at you. He loved your smiles and the shine in your eyes. Then the two of you returned and your boyfriend beamed as he saw you smile so brightly. You sat back down next to him, while Alastor sat back down in front of you two.

You turned to your Beloved.

“Hun ?”

“Yes, Darling ?”

“Can we take my Father to the new Café with us, tomorrow. He was never there and maybe he will be a fan of the pastries ! And you might be able to bond a bit, so you two won’t be so tense around one another anymore !”, you chirped.

Your partner chuckled and nodded.

“Alright, fine then. Of course we can invite him too.”, he replied.

You hugged him.

“You’re the best !”

What you didn’t see was how your Beloved glared at Alastor and your Father returned it. They hated each other. Alastor hated him, because he KNEW what your boyfriend was thinking of him already and your boyfriend hated him, because of the thoughts he had of him.

You were about to take a sip of water, as you realized that the glass was empty and the bottle too.

“I will be right back, I need to get some water. Papa, do we have more in the kitchen ?”, you asked.

“No Cher. In the basement is more, if you want. I can go get it too.”, he offered.

“No, no, Dad ! I will get it and you two can talk !”, you chirped.

Then you went off and into the Basement, closing the door behind you. You trusted your Papa to give your boyfriend a chance.

Alastor leaned forward and stared at him.

“Now, what do you actually plan with my Daughter, hm ?”, the Radio Host asked.

“I only plan to court her and make her happy.”

“By glaring at her Father in hatred ?”

“You are mixed.”

“Perfect observation, my good man !”

“How did you get your hands on her ? She doesn’t share any of your looks. She is not yours.”

“Y/n is adopted. Her parents died as she was very young. I found her in the dumpsters years ago and took her under my wing. She knows this, you can ask her. I legally adopted her too, the papers are in a folder.”, he stated.

Your Lover leaned back, scoffing, not believing him. Alastor knew this, but didn’t show his annoyance.

“She could have had a better parent...”, your boyfriend muttered.

Alastor laughed at that, hiding his rage.

“Of course ! You mean those grownups that never treat their adopted children right ? You mean those that use and abuse them for their own gain ?”, Alastor asked a bit triggered.

The teen boy’s eyes widened and he sputtered.

“Don’t even try to lie to me, boy ! I’ve seen my fair share of such, talked my fair share with such kids too. I know parents, that adopt children, well. They wouldn’t even care if they get married to abusive folks ! I am not as blind as you think. I am older than you and I’ve seen more than you.”, Alastor stated, his smile turning grim.

The boy looked away with shame in his eyes. Alastor took a sip of his coffee.

“Just because I am mixed, doesn’t that mean that I don’t know anything. I am very aware what is happening in this world.”

“I....I apologize, Sir.”, your boyfriend muttered out.

Alastor waved him off.

“You are not the first one to offend me, my good fellow ! But know this BF/n...”

The boy looked at Alastor, who gave him a dangerous smile. The boy gulped.

“...if you DARE to hurt my Daughter and I hear about it...I will make sure that you will regret it. All I need is her to tell me and I will tell the Coppers what you did. Do I make myself clear ?”, Alastor asked.

The teen gulped.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

“Good ! Now then-!”

“I’m back ! Papa we need to go shopping tomorrow. This was the last bottle of water.”, you said as you returned.

He looked at you in surprise.

“Already ?! My...the water was empty quicker than I thought, haha ! Cher, are you perhaps a fish ?”, Alastor chuckled out and teased you.

You gave your Father a bemused look.

“Dad...you drink it too and we had only 20 bottles. We both drink at least two each.”, you deadpanned.

Your boyfriend chuckled at that, which made you smile and giggle too. Your Papa was so silly.

“Oh Dear, SILLY ME, hahaha ! I thought we bought more last time !”, Alastor said.

“No we didn’t. This time we should.”

“We should indeed, mon petit.”

“So, what were you two talking about, while I was gone ?”

“Oh, just a bit about your past. Mostly how I managed to take you in, considering you look NOTHING like me !”, Alastor informed.

You giggled and looked at your boyfriend.

“I was adopted, Hun.”, you told him, unaware that he was very rude to your Father about it.

“Oh...”, your Beloved got out.

You nodded.

“He is the best Dad I could have ever asked for though ! He gave me a place to sleep, food, water, clothes anything ! He taught me everything I know, he supports me in everything I wish to try, he helps me whenever I need it and we share each other’s burdens too !”, you said happily.

Alastor could see how terrible your partner felt as he insulted him just earlier. You were so bright and happy. He sipped his Coffee smugly. But rest assured that he WILL kill this boy, if he dares to hurt you. Alastor will NOT hesitate.

Will put an effort into getting to know your boyfriend.

Alastor will threaten him, as soon as you are out of the room, that if he hurts you, Alastor will make his life a living hell.

Your boyfriend will be offensive towards Alastor, for being mixed, having heard bad stories about them and growing up believing them.

If everything turns out well, your Beloved will admit to his foul behavior towards your Father and deeply apologize and explain to him why he was so toxic.

If it doesn’t turn out well, he might hurt you and Alastor will come for his ass.

He will be very put off.

He will try to behave for you.

He will try and support you with your choice.

He will be a bit offended that you kept your boyfriend a secret, but if you have a good enough reason he will forgive you, forget about it and never mention it again.

Alastor will NOT trust your boyfriend for a very long time. He will have to prove himself to Alastor, so he can rest assured that you will be safe with that boy.

He will keep a constant eye on him when he visits, to see if he has any ill intentions towards you.

All in all: Overprotective Father Mode activated.

In Hell:

So...this Demon found you. Yes, FOUND you. He kept bothering you to court you and you decided why the fuck not ? After all, that means you’ll have a boytoy to play with whenever you are bored. It’s a win win for you.

What you didn’t expect was that the Demon male wanted to meet your Father. After he somehow found out that your Father was also in Hell, he kept bothering you to meet him. It became so annoying that you decided to let your Father meet him, to scare the annoying loudmouth away.

So there you stood, at the door of your Father’s Radio Tower, on his very turf.

“Uh...Sweetie ?”, he asked scared.

You rolled your eyes, hating the nickname, but no matter how many times you told him to not call you that, he didn’t listen.

“Why are we here ? This is the home of the Radio Demon...”

“Do you think I am a moron now, BF/n ? I know, you dumb idiot.”, you huffed out.

“Then I think we should g-go.”, he suggested trying to pull you away.

You tore your hand back and out of his grasp, then forced BF/n to stay rooted in place and rung the bell of your Father’s home.

“Hello, who is this ?”, a female voice asked.

“Hello Harpy ! It’s just me, Dear. I need to speak with the Radio Demon. It is urgent. Can you let me in and squeeze me in one of his few breaks to chat with me for at least five minutes, Sweetheart ?”, you asked her warmly.

“Oh ! Of course, Miss Y/n ! Come on in !”, she called and opened the door.

You dragged your boytoy inside the Radio Tower and soon you both stood at the reception desk. A female sheep Demon sat behind the desk.

“Sir, Miss Y/n is here and asked for a few minutes of your time. She said it was urgent.”, Harpy, the sheep demon, said through a small com on her mouth and ear.

You heightened your sense of hearing.

“I will be in the second story of the building, Harpy, Dear ! Just send her in, I always have time for my daughter !”, your Father responded happily.

You decided to stop listening in and waited to be sent on your way. Your boytoy was looking around the whole time, scared out of his mind. Good.

“Hun...please let us go home...”, he said softly to you.

Ugh, nevermind...you want this pussy dead. So annoying.

“He is in his living room on the second story. He is awaiting you, Miss Y/n.”, Harpy said.

You gave her a warm smile, then approached her and hugged her gently.

“Thank you so much, Harpy. We’ll talk later, yeah ?”, you gently asked.

“Only is the Radio Demon allows it.”, she softly replied.

“Oh he will when I ask him to.”, you assured her, then snatched BF/n’s hand and dragged him to the stairs.

“No...elevators ?”

“They are out of order for now. They still need repairs.”, you plainly said.

“So...you know the Radio Demon ?”

You stayed silent as you forced him up the stairs. As soon as you made it into the second story you sped over to a door, you knew to be your Father’s living room door. BF/n was breathing quickly and panicking. You turned to him and smacked him.

“Stop being such a Baby, for crying out loud !”, you snarled.

“S-sorry, Hun...”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. Sorry your ass.

You knocked on the door gently.

“Come in !”, Alastor’s voice called.

You opened the door and pushed your Boytoy inside first, then entered yourself.

“Hello, Radio Demon.”, you greeted, giving him a look.

Alastor understood that you wanted to play a little game, so he tagged along.

“Y/n ! What do I owe the pleasure of having you here today ?”

“I wanted you to meet someone.”

You pointed at the shaking Demon behind you and pushed him in front of you.

“May I introduce to you, BF/n. He is currently courting me and wanted to meet my Father and no matter what I did, he wouldn’t leave it be. So...”

“You brought him here to meet him.”, Alastor concluded.

At that your boytoy’s eyes widened in shock and he stared at you.

“Your Dad is working for the Radio Demon ? He has his soul ?!”

At that your face of a business woman broke and you started to cackle and then laugh loudly, joined by your Father’s own laughter. It confused your toy greatly.

“No, no, no ! The Radio Demon doesn’t have my Father’s soul. The Radio Demon IS my Father.”, you corrected.

You could see all color left on your toys face, leaving it. He was as white as a ghost.

Alastor, your Father, corrected his monocle and eyed your partner up and down, with slight distaste.

“Cher...a few words under four eyes ?”, he asked you.

You nodded and followed him to the kitchen, while BF/n was rooted in place. As soon as the door was closed you braced yourself.

“Since when were you courting someone without telling me ?”, he asked a bit offended.

“Because it is nothing serious, Papa.”

“Nothing ser- are you out of your mind, Cher ? This is very serious !”

“Maybe to you and to him, but not to me. I don’t have any interest in him romantically. He is just a toy for me to use and dispose of. As if I would be falling in love with some demon in Hell, Pa. Do you really think me that naïve ?”

Your Father was very silent at that.

“What do you use him for ?”, he asked.

“Killing a few people for me, getting some errands done for me, making me prepare a meal or a bath after a rather draining day and of course the one thing you hate most. It is rare, but when I am very angry I rather enjoy the pleasures of the flesh from time to time.”

The last part actually made Alastor’s eye twitch, but he knew that he was different from you. While he was not interested, you sometimes needed it. He knew that. You told him after all and he saw you lash out once without...having your needs quenched. It was better this way.

“You seemed annoyed with him.”, he stated.

“He wouldn’t stop bothering me. At first he followed me around like a lost little puppy and then he started to beg me for anything and everything, then he found out that my Father is in hell and just wouldn’t leave me be, while we walked here, he was begging me to take him back home too ! This man just doesn’t know what the fuck he even wants !”

He gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Do you want me to straighten him out for you ?”

“Please do so, because this idiot just doesn’t know when to shut up and just listen.”, you complained.

He nodded and kissed your forehead.

“Don’t worry, Cher. Papa’s got cha.”, he said softly in his creole voice, all filters off.

“Thank you, Papa.”, you murmured and hugged him close.

He hugged you back, tightly, and then you both went back to the living room.

“I heard you were bothering and not listening to my daughter when she tells you to shut up, my good fellow ! We can’t have that now, can we ? Disrespecting my child like that.”

The Demon was shaking in his shoes and shook his head quickly. Alastor snapped a few of his bones, to get bigger and look more menacing.

“If I ever hear another complaint about you, from my daughter, I will personally dispose of you, tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear ! Understood ?”

“C-crystal, S-Sir !”

Alastor shrunk back in size and stared BF/n down with disgust.

“Lovely.”

Then he turned to you, as you entered the room again, and you hugged him again, which he returned. He wasn’t a fan of doing it always in public, but you were his child. He would never turn your affections down. He gave the Demon you dated a harsh, menacing glare, which he gulped at.

You and dating in Hell with actual romantic feelings to a male Demon ? HA ! Never.

He would try to let you have your freedom to date though.

If the Demon annoys you, tell him and he will help you out.

If the Demon you date decides to be a difficult disgrace to you, he will kill them, just say the word.

He will hate the idea of you dating someone very much.

He will always glare them down and make sure you are unharmed.

Alastor will try to control his inner instincts to kill anyone that dared to be near you.

He will be mad at you, but understands why you are dating. Not for love or romance, because in Hell you can barely trust anyone, but because of your more...carnal desires.

He loves you too much as to hurt you in that way and he doesn’t have to worry that you might end up with child, because in Hell, Sinners can’t get pregnant !

So a plus for him in almost every aspect.

He will still worry about your safety though.

He will send his shadow after you and let it constantly watch you, no matter what, just to make sure that you will be okay.

What ? You can’t expect him to just leave you, his pride and joy in life and death, all alone with some disgusting filth ! What if they try and hurt you or even worse kill you, at your weakest moment after you finished to get some much stress relieved ?

Alastor will NOT peek, disgusting. But his shadow will alarm him as soon as you are in need of his help.

Yes, your Father will always find an excuse to keep and eye and ear out for you. You can’t blame him. You are his one and only daughter.

You are his treasure. So better deal with it, because you won’t be able to convince him to leave you alone.

A/N: Yes, I decided to make it different for the Hell part, everyone. Just because I think Alastor raised you like that to never trust anyone who did wrong and in Hell, everyone did wrong, besides the two of you. You two were just sent down because you cannibalized on people. The murders were always justified.

#fanfiction #fem!reader #demon!reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #Hazbin Hotel #Father!Alastor x child!Reader #Teen!Daughter!Reader #Father!Alastor #Father!Alastor x daughter!Reader #Human!Alastor #Alive!Alastor #Demon!Alastor #Human!Reader #Alive!Reader #If you had a Boyfriend and Alastor meets him – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

[luimagines]

Would it be alright to just request a really fluffy romance with wild for an isekai reader if that's alright?

He just deserves something soft and to be doted on I feel

Absolutely! I agree!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"Hey." Wild says, grabbing your attention from the top of a tree branch. Truth be told, you're also in the tree but you stuck to the lower branches while Wild went higher- living up to his nickname.

You looked up at him and smiled softly. "Yeah?"

Wild swings down, mostly. He hangs onto the branch with his legs and his arms, looking at you upside down. "Do you think the others will find us over here?"

You giggle. "Probably. With Wolfie on their side, I'm sure it wouldn't take them very long."

You lean up and kiss his nose.

Wild scrunches his face and his nose follows suit. It's cute. He drops from the branch, landing on the one under you. He looks up and puts his arms on your knees, crossing them gently so he doesn't keep his weight on you. "I want to hear a story."

You run your hands through his hair and tilt your head curiously. "Like what?"

"I don't know." He says simply. "Something from your world. something you grew up with."

You laugh and shake your head. "Do you know how little that narrows it down?"

Wild grins with you, leaning into your touch. "Humor me. I want something sweet. Or heartbreaking. Maybe both."

"Something bitter sweet?" You echo the sentiment and begin to think. "I don't know... That actually might narrow it down too much."

Wild snorts and grins from cheek to cheek. "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know-! I can't think of anything like that right now!" You laugh, trying to defend yourself.

Someone whistles in the distance and Wild groans loudly. You don't recognize the call and try to look around to see who did it. When you see no one, you look back to Wild. He doesn't look amused. "It's the Captain. Come on, we've been found out."

He begins to climb down.

You wait for him to get down first before following at a slower pace. You considered yourself a decent climber, but Wild seemed to stick to the trees. You could hear the Captain spot Wild and instantly begin to question the young man. You were suddenly less inclined to climb down.

"Hold on!" Wild shouts at Warrior, turning back to your tree. "Come on. You can't stay there forever. Jump. I'll catch you."

You hesitate.

Wild holds his arms you and tries to give you his most welcoming smile. You shake your head and let yourself drop. Wild catch you with ease and gently sets you on your feet.

He kisses your cheek before Warrior could see you two and takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together gently. "Alright, come on. Let's go back."

You blush but follow him back to where the others are no doubt waiting.

Warrior, surprisingly, holds back from scolding you as well- something you are silently thankful for. With a shake to his head, Warrior leads you both away.

You grin and lean closer to Wild, resting your head on his shoulder, bumping his head affectionately. "I'll tell the story later."

"Good." Wild grins again, seemingly unbothered despite being your alone time being cut. "I'll be waiting expectantly."

"Please save it for later." Warrior all but begs. "The rest of us are able to hear you being cute."

"Sounds like a you problem." Wild grins, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it. you copy the gesture quickly.

Warrior starts walking faster away with a pout on his face.

Wild is unapologetic. And frankly, so are you.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu wild

[duuhrayliegh]

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

#bartender!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader #bucky x peanut #consequences #ray's writing #bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky barnes x you #bartender!bucky barnes x y/n #bartender!bucky x you

[youaresimplylovely]

My Man in Red

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐋𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟^^ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 717 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝!! A𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ^^

When your boyfriend signed with Ferrari boy, things were crazy. Everyone had mixed feelings and so did you. You were supportive of Lewis honestly but it's just that you've supported him in Mercedes for so long it's sort of weird to support Ferrari. Nevertheless, you always say to yourself that wherever he goes, you go.

That's why days later after his contract signing with Ferrari, you immediately went to go find Ferrari merch. You even went to a trip to Italy to learn more about Ferrari. You weren't gonna lie, Mercedes merch looked great on you but Ferrari merch? Amazing. Red really did suit you.

The night before the race, you and Lewis were chilling in your hotel room. He was in the bathroom trying on his Ferrari polo that he would wear the next day for race day.

"Darling?" He calls you out from the bathroom while he looks at himself in the mirror as he adjusts his collar.

You immediately sat up from the bed to go inside the bathroom, once you opened the door a bright smile appeared on your face. Seeing Lewis in red was weird but he looked hot it in.

"Oh baby, it looks so good on you." You smile at him, approaching him closer as you hug him.

"You think so? I like it on me darling." He chuckles, wrapping his arm around you. His hands on your waist while he glances at himself at the mirror.

"I know so." You reassure him as you bury your face on his chest.

The next day, you and Lewis woke up bright and early to get to the paddock early since there would be a lot of people if you guys left a little too late. Lewis was the first to wake up, as much as he wanted to take a shower with you he didn't want to disrupt your peaceful sleep that's why he took a shower first.

Once Lewis finished with his shower, that was the time when you woke up. Your eyes flutter open, yawning as you shake your head to get the sleep out of you. Sitting up from the bed, you head to the bathroom. Eyes wide open and a smirk on your face.

Lewis chuckles, noticing your reaction. Watching you stare at his abs, he approaches you pulling you in closer to him as his hand rests on your ass. "Good morning darling" He smiles planting a kiss on your forehead.

You hum softly, looking up at him while you smile. "Good morning, I'm gonna get dressed already. I'll shower later, when we come back here." You give him a quick kiss as you get dressed.

You simply dressed in a Ferrari Vintage top and cargo pants along with the Ferrari Vintage Jacket. After getting dressed you and Lewis drove the paddock with him driving his new Ferrari.

The race was going smoothly, you were watching in Lewis' garage. The fans were really cheering for Lewis, he was in a great position in every lap. He maintained it up until the very last lap. Once the checkered flag was waved, you were in beams of pride. Watching you boyfriend cross the line in a solid P2 for his first race in Ferrari was great.

Once Lewis got out of the car and info the pit stops, he immediately hugged his team and shook Fred's hand. You were a proud girlfriend that day. Seeing him and his new team all happy made you happy.

While you were admiring Lewis, you hadn't noticed he was already running to you to give you a big kiss. You were caught off guard but you didn't complain. You kiss your boyfriend back, giving him the tightest hug ever.

"I'm so proud of you lew, red was made for you." You give him a kiss on his cheek, leaving a stain from your red lipstick which you purposely wore.

"And so do you darling." He laughs softly, kissing you again while pulling you closer.

"My Man in Red" You mutter to him as your hands hold his face.

You were the proudest girlfriend out there. All your doubts and worries faded away. Lewis made you proud and you wanted to be there to be in every race your man was in red.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@euphoricchills @charlesleclerx @Inchident-jgp @amethyst-bitch @dr4g0ngirl @likedbygaslyy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @httpstoyosi

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 au #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilon x you #lewis hamilton imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 blurb #lewis hamilton fanfic #Spotify

[ghyulia]

𝗢𝗯𝗲𝘆 𝗠𝗲 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀! 𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆’𝗿𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗧𝘆𝗽𝗲 𝗽𝟮!

p1 | p2

‹𝟹 ft. Satan & Beelzebub

sorry for any grammar mistakes!!

𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗻

𐙚 . He's pretty surprised. Satan knows that he's pretty attractive, but he doesn't have the best of qualities. He genuinely thinks you would fare better with someone who isn't as.. short-fused as him. He appreciates your feelings, of course! He's so madly in love with you

𐙚. Satan resolves not to mention it or make an appearance at the moment as quietly makes his way back to his room. He doesn't think you noticed him.

𐙚. Little did he know, you managed to catch a glimpse of a blonde head swiftly disappearing from behind the door. You knew he heard you and chose not to say anything or make himself known. This threw you for a loop. Did he like you? Did he try to flee the scene in hopes that you wouldn't notice him because he didn't feel that way about you?! All of these thoughts were weighing you down.

𐙚. After a few hours, you finally decided to man up and pay him a visit. It wasn't unusual for you to visit him at this time, since you both usually liked to read while occasionally talking about events that transpired through the day.

𐙚. You knock twice. "Satan?"

"Oh, (Name)." "Come in."

You warily open the door, all your confidence from a few minutes ago dissipating. It's now or never, anyway. You swallow your fear.

"How was your day?" You say. "It was pretty normal. Remember that book from the human world that piqued my interest? It finally came in. I was pretty excited to read it, but I thought it might be better to wait for you. I got a little impatient and read the first few pages, though...I hope that's fine." "Hey, (Name), you seem really tense. Is everything all right?" Satan points out.

"Huh? ..Oh yeah. I'm good..I'm super excited to read the book, too!" You force out. He really is acting like he didn't hear what you said. You were starting to get frustrated, and Satan could notice it too.

"Seriously, (Name). What's up with you?" Satan inquires, confusion written all over his face. His beautiful face. That stupid face!! That face to the body of a stupid demon who's acting like he didn't stupidly hear your confession of love (it wasn't even really a confession..)! That tipped you over the edge.

"What's up with me is that I said you were my type! You were there! You were there....and now you're pretending not to have heard me! That obviously means you don't like me, or at least not enough to mention it! It makes me feel so stupid, Satan. So, so unbelievably stupid. And I know it's not your fault, but sometimes I feel like what we do is pretty intimate, you know?! I mean when we read in your room I'm basically on top of you. A guy who doesn't like me should at least have the decency to stop me from making a fool out of myself. He should push me off him! I really like you, but you obviously don't reciprocate, so you should at least say somet-"

Your ramble is abruptly halted with a short, sweet peck on your cheek. You tilt your head a little to face the Cynical Fourth born, whose ears are fully crimson.

"Y-You.."

"(Name), I'm sorry. I didn't... really know how to bring it up. I told myself that I would later, after we got comfortable. Of course I'm into you. Who wouldn't be? You're amazing, funny, and kind, and you never fail to bring a smile to my face. I'm always quick to anger, as you know..but around you, I always find myself striving to be a better person. You keep me in check. I'm not just into you... I know for a fact that.. ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱ..ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ." He barely mumbles out the last part. Your smile grows wider and wider, before you all but pounce on the demon.

"I guess that would make us the perfect pair because I feel the exact way about you, 'Tan!"

Satan's smile is the widest you've ever seen. He doesn't know what the future has in store for him, but he knows that as long as you are by his side, there will be nothing he can't overcome.

𝗕𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘇𝗲𝗯𝘂𝗯

𖦹 He doesn't understand. He's your ideal type of what? He doesn't get it, so he just ignores the statement for a while and continues doing his daily activities.

𖦹 A few hours later, the thought of what you said resurfaces, and while filming his new DevilTube workout video with Asmodeus, Beel decides to ask what it means to be someone's "Ideal type." Once Asmo explains what it means and he finally understands and fully processes what you meant by the statement, he goes fully red. He's so embarrassed he didn't get that earlier. But at the same time, he's ecstatic. You're his type too!

𖦹 Poor guy can't even focus on his workout video. He wraps it up as quickly as possible, leaving Asmo with the editing, and makes a beeline for your room. He stops halfway.

𖦹 He's sweating like a pig...It would probably be best to freshen up before confronting you about what you said. He makes a mad dash to the shower, freshens up quickly, and then hastily makes his way to your room.

"(Name)? You in there?"

"Yeah! Come in, the door is unlocked." Your voice was muffled. "Sorry, I'm looking for a potions book Solomon lent to me. What's up? Asmo was texting the group chat about how you abandoned your "Deviltuber Duties"..or something," You giggled, still not facing him.

"Earlier..You said I was your ideal type. I didn't know what it meant, so I ignored it, but I know what it means now.." Beel confesses.

You freeze. "You heard that?!" You quickly turn around. You felt like all the blood you had in your human body was rushing straight to your face. Your eyes meet his, and you finally realize that the 6'4 demon's face is also decorated in a deep shade of red. You guys are practically matching at this point!

"(Name)... You should probably know that you're my type too. You've always accepted me and my brothers. You still treated Belphie with kindness even after the rough start you two had. I admired that about you. I'm okay with sharing my food if it's you. I've always thought you were amazing ever since the day you stood up for me and Luke. You didn't waver in front of Lucifer, who can be really scary at times...and it made me feel so warm. My feelings only grew from there."

You tear up a little. "Beel, you're so amazing. I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you."

"I think it's the other way around, (Name)." Beel leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and engulfs you in a warm hug.

The Gluttonous seventh-born knows he'll continue to treasure you forever. Beelzebub had never paid any mind to the sun at first because it never shined in the Devildom, but you changed that. You exuded light and radiance from the moment he met you. You were the sun. His sun. He's just so happy that he gets to be the one closest to your heart. You smile and indulge in his embrace, the potions book long forgotten.

a/n: ahhh it's done!! sorry for the wait omg :(( I'm thinking of what to write ab next but I hope ygs enjoyed this one! oh if anyone has any ideas on what I shld write abt next pleaseee lmk haha :)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x y/n #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #satan x reader #beelzebub x reader #satan x mc #obey me x mc #ahhh i love beel sm