#//A ghoul walked into a bar... (ic)

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Tags: Title From A Fall Out Boy, Fame < Infamy by Fall Out Boy, Takes Place Before The Destruction of NCR, Jealousy, Someone Else Flirts With You, Derogatory Language Towards Women, Bisexual The Ghoul, Because Walton Goggins Said So, Arguments, Confessions, First Kiss, Sub Ghoul, Poor Man Is Desperate, Teasing, Edging, Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cowgirl Position, You Wear His Hat, Light Dom/Sub, Cuddles Synopsis: After two weeks out on the job, you and The Ghoul are spending the night at a bar in Shady Shands relaxing. The Ghoul has always flirted with you, but he never meant anything by it, never did anything more, leaving you frustrated and desperately wanting the man. So when you meet someone who acts on his words, you nearly agree to spend the night with him, hoping to fill your lonely nights with another person instead of thoughts of The Ghoul. But any prospect of enjoying his company is destroyed when The Ghoul beats the man for even looking in your direction. Rightfully angry, an argument between the two of you ensues, leading to things that you only imagined would happen in your thoughts during your lonely nights.  Author’s Note: alright so normally i’m like meh about my own smut writing but i will admit i am a bit proud of this one :D Taglist: @ancientbeing10 @alex-does-art-things

The bar you were currently sitting in was dingy, seedy, and smelled like old food and piss. You didn’t even remember the name of it, too excited for the prospect of a cold drink to care, and you let The Ghoul drag you in. You were sourly disappointed when the Mr. Handy behind the counter handed you a lukewarm beer, not even a single drop of condensation on the brown bottle. 

So here you were, leaning back against a moth-eaten and weathered couch tucked in the corner, nursing a drink that just made you thirstier. He sat next to you, his legs lounged up on the low table in front of you two like he hadn’t a care in the world. You supposed that being alive for over two hundred years would do that to someone. 

The Ghoul had his own drink, a glass of whiskey, more specifically. It used to have ice in it, about ten minutes ago, but it had quickly melted, no doubt watering down the drink. Still, he continued to sip at it, his eyes roaming the crowds in the bar. Your eyes were shut, head resting against the back of the couch, catching up on some much-needed rest.

The Ghoul and you had just come back from a two-week-long excursion of the Wasteland, hunting down a group of escaped convicts from the jail in Shady Sands. Most of the time had been spent walking, searching for clues in the ending sea of sand. It had almost been impossible, but you were able to pick up a trail. It had led you to a long-since abandoned town near the shoreline of California, and after an intense firefight the two of you managed to slay them all; there was no way in hell you were escorting alive prisoners all the way back to Filly. Carrying the heads would be easier. 

And it was, except for the plethora of animals and insects it attracted, but you’d take that over the prisoners fighting you the entire time. Eventually, you and The Ghoul had made it back to Shady Sands, sweaty and covered in blood and exhausted, and dumped the heads onto the desk of the deputy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man pale so fast. 

After The Ghoul received the cap reward, he paid for two rooms for the both of you and some sleazy hotel, and after getting washed up he had dragged you to the bar further down the street. You hadn’t had the energy to fight him, but you almost wish you had now. You were barely staying awake, head bobbing as you forced yourself to concentrate on the chatter of patrons to keep you conscious. 

Bringing the drink up to your lips, your muscles cried out in protest, but you just ignored them. The drink itself wasn’t terrible, the flavor was almost citrusy, but it felt like sandpaper as it went down your throat. Wincing, you cleared your throat, garnering the attention of the man beside you. “Surly it ain’t that bad,” he chuckled, and you cracked an eye open at him. 

You didn’t respond, just holding out the drink for him to grab. You were sure to hold it by the neck so he had plenty of space to grab it below, but you felt him grab it in a way that made his gloved finger bush over yours. You kept your face neutral, but you certainly felt your heart react, ticking up in rhythm.

After taking a sip, a similar grimace crossed his face. If he had brows, you’re sure they would be furrowed, his lips curled up in disgust. “Even I can tell that tastes like shit,” he shook his head, forcing the drink back into your hands. There was only an inch of liquid left at the bottom, and so choosing to ignore the fact that his lips had just been on the bottle, you finished it off. 

Setting it on the table, you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. “It’s not good, sure, but it’s better than anythin’ else I’ve had in the past weeks. “So, I,” you stood with a slight groan, “am gonna get another one.”

You didn’t get too far attempting to step around the table, his legs blocking the easiest way out. A hand grabbed your wrist, tugging you back down on the couch, very nearly toppling into him. You tried to break free, but his grip was unyielding. Not enough to hurt, no, but you were stuck. “Now, what kinda man would I be if I made a pretty thing like you get their own drink?” His words made you still, and you were grateful for the shitty lighting that hid your blush. 

Little did you know that he could see you clearly, an amused smile now on his lips. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, and you were now able to yank your hand away, glaring harshly at him. “Now,” he lightly patted your thigh, making you jump, “stay here, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You were unable to resist the urge to flip him off as he walked towards the bar, before flopping against the couch with a huff. It wasn’t that you hated that he flirted with you. No, it was quite the opposite. You loved the comments and light touches, making your heart race and less-than-decent thoughts pour into your brain. But from the time the two of you had started working together, so roughly a year ago, that’s all it had been. Soft touches, empty promises, saccharine words and petnames that made you melt, but nothing more. He would always stop before it became more, his touch receding like you’d burned him, a witty remark that quelled the fire he stoked, an I’m just teasin’ ya, sweetheart. God, you hated those words specifically. 

 You wanted more, but it terrified you because you couldn’t tell if he actually meant something by his flirtations, or if he just enjoyed tormenting you. Friends were a rarity in the Wastleland, and you were screwed if you somehow managed to ruin things between you two. You’d be out of income, protection, and a genuine friend who (sometimes) had your best interest in mind.

So you bit your tongue, pretending like his words weren’t making you dizzy, that you wanted nothing more than to feel his body beneath you, to be able to feel his lips against yours. So many late-night fantasies that left you even more lonely in the morning, your knuckles bruised from where you had to bite them to keep quiet. Even though it hurt, you kept your desires close to your heart, treasuring the small things he did give you. Which, you’d come to realize, made it worse, but he had made you addicted to it. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even detect someone approaching. You expected to see the familiar face of The Ghoul beside you, but you were startled to find someone else. He was a ghoul, and even though it was hard to tell you could see that he was younger, late twenties, or early thirties if you had to guess. He wore a simple blue shirt and some jeans, way too neat and hole-less than what you were used to. 

He had a beer in hand, and he used it to gesture to the spot beside you. “This spot taken?” He was the usual rasp of a ghoul, albeit a bit higher pitched than The Ghoul’s. God, you couldn’t stop yourself from comparing him to the other man. 

Speaking of him, you were able to subtly glance behind him to the bar, and you found the other man in conversation with some others. It didn’t look to be a confrontation, luckily, and you heard laughter from the group. You focused your attention on the stranger in front of you, smiling warmly at him. “Not at all,” you patted the space beside you, only barely warm still. 

As he sat beside you, setting his drink on the table, you let yourself take him in. He wasn’t unattractive, far from it. There was almost a playfulness to his features, his fully black eyes glimmering with mirth. His arm went around the couch, and you could feel the heat from it. Even though he wasn’t the man that had plagued your thoughts, you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to the stranger, breathing growing short, your cheeks darkening slightly. You were only human after all. 

“Can’t say I’ve seen you around here before, gorgeous.” He flashed his teeth, and you were pleasantly surprised to find pretty much all of them intact, and still in good condition. Another rarity of the Wastleland. 

“I’m just passing through. Just finished up some… work.” You turned yourself to face him more.

“Work, you say? Whattya do?”

“Oh, just some odd jobs here and there. Whatever makes me money.”

He chucked at that. “Can’t blame you for that. I’m Daniel, by the way.” He held a hand out for you, ungloved and bare. You shook it, giving him your name, and he repeated it back to you. It wasn’t the drawl of The Ghoul’s voice, but it was pleasant enough. 

You expect him to drop your hand, but something about them must’ve intrigued him, and you watched, quite confused, as he filled it over. His eyes ran over your fingers, especially your forefinger and thumb, before flicking back up to yours. He still didn’t drop your hand. “You use a gun a lot?” He smirked when you nodded, bewildered. “I can tell by the callouses here,” he dragged a finger along them, tickling you slightly. 

“Well, look at you,” you laughed. “What’re you, a detective?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that. Just… observant.” He flashed you another smile, completely confident in his actions. “So, you’re a bounty hunter then?”

You didn’t bother to deny his claim, knowing the expression on your face just gave you away. Thank goodness you weren’t a con artist. “Is it gonna be a problem if I say yes?” You asked cautiously, slowly retracting your hand, ready for this interaction to go bad. You let your eyes flick to The Ghoul, locating him in case you need help. He was still at the bar, talking with someone new this time, and you felt a pang of something as the man he was talking to brushed his shoulder, nothing innocent in the touch. 

“Not a problem at all,” he answered completely honestly. “Nasty business, though.”

You glanced back at Daniel, relief flooding you. You did not have the energy for a barfight tonight. “You don’t know the half of it,” you groaned. “It’s ruthless, but I enjoy it, weirdly enough. And I’m pretty good at it.”

The hand resting on the back of the couch shifted, and you felt his fingers brush over your shoulders, making you shiver slightly. I like a girl that can handle herself,” he admitted. “Strong,”  he gently squeezed the muscles in your biceps. “Confident. Powerful.” His voice turned into a whisper at the end, mouth pressed close to your ear. 

You were quite flustered now. “Well, you’re in luck then.”

“It seems I am. So, what say you, bounty hunter? Do you wanna get out of here in a bit, have some fun tonight before you head off?”

It had been a long time since you’d had someone in your bed. Since about when you started working with The Ghoul, to be exact. You’re not sure why you hadn’t in so long; it wasn’t for a lack of options. You just… couldn’t bring yourself to take someone to bed that wasn’t The Ghoul. Still, you hated waking up alone each morning, loneliness clawing at your heart. And when you’d see men and women stumble from his room, it felt like someone shot you, making you irritable with him for days to come. Maybe for once you’d have someone leaving your room, your heart content, if for a moment. Maybe you could imagine that it wasn’t Daniel, picture the other man’s features instead.

Maybe he would feel the same way you felt as he watched Daniel sneak from your room. That idea made you grin, and any hesitance about taking him to bed vanished. 

You didn’t get a chance to respond, though, before two familiar gloved hands rested on Daniel’s shoulders, making the man tense. He was forcibly pulled back from you, the force of the pull nearly making him fall off the couch. He caught himself, and you watched as he stood and faced The Ghoul. 

The shade from his hat hid most of his face, but even then you could see the hatred in his eyes as he stared down Daniel. The Ghoul was a formidable opponent, but you have to give some credit to Daniel as he squared up against him. “The hell’s your problem, man?” If the way The Ghoul had yanked Daniel hadn’t gotten the attention of the crowd, Daniel’s words surely did. Behind them, you watched a small crowd begin to form, and you wished to just let the shadows consume you. 

“She’s… off-limits,” he titled his head to the side. The action would make any sane person falter, and you watched as Daniel’s posture went rigid, fear hitting him. 

Still, Daniel didn’t let up, male pride and all that. “Maybe you should let her know, then,” he gestured angrily to you, and you shrank lower into the seat. “By the way she was lettin’ me talk to her, I can imagine the whole town’s probably had their way-”

His words, which had been so sweet moments ago, were cut off when The Ghoul grabbed him by the throat, slamming him onto the table in front of you. You jumped off the couch as splinters of wood and glass sprayed everywhere, narrowly avoiding you. Mortified, you could do nothing but watch as The Ghoul began to beat the man, blood joining in with the debris. If Daniel had a nose left, you were sure it would be pulverized. 

The Ghoul’s lips had curled up into a snarl, his eyes blazing as he leered down at the man, stopping his assault. Daniel tried to pry the other man’s hand from his throat, a choked gasp leaving him, yet that seemed to just make his grip tighter. “Gimme one reason why I shouldn’t just kill ya?” He growled, shoving Daniel’s head into the ground. He could barely garble out a reply, the words indistinguishable. 

Glass shattered on the floor as The Ghoul tossed the man into another table, another piece of furniture destroyed. As he stalked towards the downed man, he rolled over onto his hands and knees, rubbing at his throat. He was coughing and sputtering, genuine fear in his eyes as he looked up at the bounty hunter. Crouching before him, The Ghoul regarded him slowly, nothing but disgust on his features. 

“Fuck… she all yours,” Daniel managed to pant out between coughs. “Just… God, don’t kill me!”

Satisfied with his answer, The Ghoul kicked him one last time for good measure, sending him sprawling back. It was dead silent in the bar, and patrons gawked and shuffled away as The Ghoul walked to where you had been standing, only to find you gone. 

You had slipped out when he had thrown him, unable to continue watching. The streets were busy, and you kept your head down as you wove between people, heading to the hotel as quickly as you could. Too many emotions overwhelmed you, and you took a deep breath and began to collect your thoughts. 

First, you were embarrassed. 

You were embarrassed that they had been fighting over you. When you weren’t on a job, you hated creating conflict, not wanting to be the center of attention. You had plenty of that doing bounty hunting. This was supposed to be a night where you relaxed, to forget all about the horrors of the world you lived in, with or without The Ghoul, but that plan was tossed aside. 

Secondly, you were angry. 

Fuming would be a better word for it, and if you looked hard enough you could probably see the steam pouring from your ears. You were pissed that he had ruined a possibly enjoyable night with another person, ending your celibate streak. You were pissed that he felt like he could just take control of your choices like that. And you were pissed that you never got that next drink, although that was the least of your concerns at this point. 

Finally, you were confused.

Why had he reacted the way he did? It wasn’t like there was anything between you two, as much as it pained you to come to terms with it. Why did he care who you took to bed? He had taken plenty of people to bed during the time you’d worked together, and you’d never made a complaint about it. Why were you weirdly attracted to his display of… jealousy? Was it jealousy? You couldn’t even imagine what that could mean if it was. 

The sound of your name being shouted behind you forcefully tore you from your thoughts. You immediately recognized it, and you refrained from looking over at him. Ducking your head, you hoped that you blended in well with the others on the street, and you continued to briskly walk towards the hotel. 

You heard your name being called again, this time closer, and so you picked up the pace, nearly jogging at this point. You heard the sound of people crying out in alarm, and you knew that he was getting closer to you, barreling through the crowds without any thought. 

You could see the neon sign of the hotel, now lit, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. That feeling was short-lived, panic making your stomach drop when you heard The Ghoul right behind you. “Don’t make me fuckin’ tackle ya,” you heard him threaten. For a moment, you debated just ignoring him, but you knew that he didn’t make empty threats. Besides, the ground was dusty, and you’d rather not spend the rest of the night covered in sand.

Groaning, you finally halted, turning to face him with a scowl. You didn’t respond, just raising a brow and gesturing for him to ‘get on with it’. Your jaw was clenched so hard, and you could feel the headache that threatened to torment you later because of it. 

“The fuck was that about?” 

God, was he joking with you? “I should be the one asking you that! In what world was that a rational response?”

People stared as they passed, but you both just ignored them. “He was touchin’ ya.”

“And did I look even remotely disinterested? Was there any part of my body language that read that I was even the tiniest bit uncomfortable?” You laughed bitterly at the lack of response from him; you both knew what the answer was. “Why the hell do you even care if he was touching me or not?”

He was silent again, and you just scoffed, taking a few steps back. “Whatever,” you sighed in defeat, before turning and walking the remaining way to the hotel. You were almost disappointed when you didn’t hear him following behind you. 

The person behind the desk recognized you, and you were able to quickly make your way up to the second floor where your room was. You made sure to not let your eyes wander to the door where he was staying that night, a few feet down from yours on the other side of the hallway. 

When you were finally alone in your room, you resisted the urge to just scream angrily. Instead, you kicked off your shoes, which hit the walls with a loud noise, and you flopped onto your bed. Laying on your back with your arms spread, you stared at the surprisingly intact ceiling, frustrated tears stinging your eyes. Disagreements always upset you, but there was something about this one that made you feel ill, a sense of dread that you’d never felt before filled your body. 

You’re not sure how long you just lay there, calming your racing heart and your heightened emotions. It must’ve been a while, because you dozed off, the exhaustion in your body now taking control.

A light knock at the door woke you, and for a second you thought you had just imagined it. When it came again, more forceful, you sighed, knowing exactly who was on the other side of the door. Like before, you debated just ignoring him, but you didn’t want to be charged for the destruction of more property. “What?” You snapped out, still not in the mood to talk to him yet. 

“We need to talk.” The Ghoul responded, sounding less irritated than you. 

“Yeah, no shit.” I gave you plenty of time to explain yourself downstairs. 

You could hear him sigh through the thin wood door. “Sweetheart.” You hated that he knew how to get you to do whatever you wanted. You couldn’t even stop yourself as you sat up and made your way to the door. With no hesitation you opened it, his endearment almost putting you under a spell.

It was dissipated when you saw him, those emotions flooding your mind instead. The door was only open a crack, your body filling it as you glared at the other man. “Yes?

“Let me talk to ya,” he sighed in frustration. 

“You are.” You couldn’t care less that you were being stubborn and difficult. He deserved it.

His jaw clenched. “Inside.”

You didn’t respond, mulling over his words as you stared at him, fire never once leaving your eyes. Finally, you relented, against your better judgment. Stepping back, you left the door open, leaning up against one of the dressers with your arms crossed. You watched as he entered, the door clicking shut in finality, looking like he expected to be attacked by you at any second. You were almost proud to instill that level of fear in him.

He kept a respectful distance away from you, loitering near the foot of the bed. “Look, I’m… sorry.” He said the words like they were brand new. 

He left it at that, and you scoffed. You knew that you should just accept his apology and move on. You knew that you shouldn’t instigate something, to purposely start an argument with your traveling partner. But you were still too damn angry to care. You needed him to know what you felt.

“‘Sorry’? I get nothing more than that?”

“What’dya want from me then, sweetheart?” He growled, your anger rubbing off on him. “You want me to get down on my fuckin’ knees, plead for your forgiveness? You want me to promise I ain’t ever gonna do it again, even though it’ll be a damn lie? What the fuck do you want from me?” He spat the last sentence out, emphasizing each word.

The image of him on his knees before you flashed in your mind, and you had to admit it did seem appealing. But not now. 

He was getting closer to you now. Slow, methodical steps, but he was closer, and continuing. “I want an explanation.”

You might’ve as well just slapped him, the way he halted in his tracks, stunned. Words seemed to evade him, and the anger that had just been rolling off him in waves subsided, still there yet not as strong. It should’ve had the opposite effect, but your rage was growing, threatening to burst. “Oh, so now you can’t talk? It’s a simple request!”

“It’s really fuckin’ not.”

“Why?” Silence. “You’ve got two options here. You either suck it up and tell me, or you get the hell out of here. It’s your choice.”

You could tell that he hated the choice you gave him, but you didn’t care. You expected to watch him turn and storm out the door, leaving your relationship in tatters on the dirty hotel floor. So you were surprised when he took a deep breath and remained where he was. “I hated that he was touchin’ you."

“So you were jealous?” You ignored the way you were elated when he nodded, albeit with some hesitancy. The anger subsided, and you felt pure want take its place. “You wanted to be him,” you whispered, taking a step towards him. Your confidence grew at how hungrily he watched you. 

“You wanted to be the one whispering those words, to be running their fingers on my body.” Another step. “You wanted to be the one to take me to bed, to feel me, to fuck me.” You were finally close enough to him that you could touch him if you wish, but you kept your hands by your sides.

The Ghoul groaned at your words, and you couldn’t help the small smirk on your face at his reaction. “Do you want that?” You asked, needed to hear confirmation. 

It came almost immediately. “Fuck, yes.” His own hands reached out to touch you, but you swatted them away. That snapped him out of his semi-trance, his eyes flashing with confusion.

“You don’t get to touch me yet.”

 Something new flashed in his eyes instead, something you couldn’t quite name. “Sweetheart-”

“Sit down.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you just shot him a look, silencing him instantly. The bed groaned as he sat on the edge of it, eyes never leaving yours. It made him stand a head lower than you now, and he had to look up to continue holding your gaze. “How does it feel? To watch someone else get the things you want?”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. “It hurts, doesn’t it? It feels like someone’s stabbed you in the heart, no? So,” you moved between his legs, “how do you think I felt? After you flirt with me, then take someone else to bed. After you touch me, toy with me, but then act like my body disgusts you, and you recoil away. After you say those things that leave me shaking and wanting, but then never act of them.” 

Your hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and you brought your face close to his. “I’ve seen you take countless lovers to bed during the time we’ve worked together, and I never said a peep. Even though it fucking killed me to see. That man in the bar, the one you beat senseless? That was gonna be the first person that’d occupied my bed in almost a year. And no, I didn’t really want him that badly, but maybe I could finally go to bed for one night and not have my thoughts be entirely of you.”

Shoving his back lightly, you stumbled back a few steps, the confession that had just spilled from your lips making you breathless. “I have to know; did you mean it? All the flirting, the touches, everything. Did you mean it?”

For once, The Ghoul kept any remarks to himself, and sheer honesty was written across his face. There before you, you saw a vulnerable man, gazing up at you like you hung the stars. “I did. I do.”

“Do you want me?” Cautiously, you began to move back towards him.

“Every fuckin’ minute.”

When you were back between his legs, you let your hands rest on the lapels, no longer strangling the poor material. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

A hopeful smile graced his lips, his eyes flicking down to your lips which hovered above him. After nodding lightly, you let yourself move closer until your lips just brushed over his, barely making contact. “A shame, then.” You pulled away before they could fully connect, a victorious smile on your face as you looked down at the confused man.

“Oh, you thought you’d be getting what you wanted tonight? You ran your hands up, resting on the sides of his neck now. You could feel his heart hammering. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not. No, tonight you’re gonna feel as desperate as I’ve felt for the past year. And,” you made sure that he was especially paying attention to your words now, “if you think that at any point tonight you’re gonna have control, you’re wrong. Any objections?”

His eyes had blown out during your little speech, small pants leaving his lips as he stared up at you. He was already so eager, and you’d barely done anything yet. Even still, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, and you realized he’d probably never given up control in the bedroom. You let the facade drop for a moment. “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. Not ever. You just gotta let me know, and we’ll stop immediately.”

Any uncertainty left him, and something warmed in your chest at the fact that he trusted you enough to do something like this. “You ready?”

He nodded, and you shook your head. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, not expecting the name from you. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” You rewarded him with a soft kiss on the cheek before grabbing his hat off his head. “Go get comfortable on the bed.” 

Stepping away from him, you set his hat on the nightstand as he got situated, his now bare head resting on the pillows. Making sure he had returned his attention to you, you heard his gasp when you grabbed the hem of your shirt, turning into an appreciative groan when you tore it off your head. You wore a simple black bra beneath, but you might as well have been wearing the most beautiful piece of lingerie with the way his eyes widened, a smile on his face again. You made quick work of your jeans, and you refrained from shivering as the air hit your now-exposed skin, clad in only your undergarments. But how could you be cold when he was looking at you with such heat in his eyes?

The bed creaked again when you got on it, and you adjusted until you straddled his abdomen. His clothing dug into your skin, but you could hardly feel it. Planting your hands on his chest, you leaned forward until your face was only an inch from his. He watched you with hooded eyes, which fluttered close when your lips pressed against his jaw, moving up until you stopped right below his ear. 

Gloved hands rested on your bare waist, and as much as you enjoyed feeling his hands on your body, you couldn’t let up that easily. “Did I say you could touch me yet?” You whispered, and you felt him slowly rescind his touch, now resting on the bedsheets beside him. “Good job,” you praised, and you felt him shudder slightly. Interesting. “If you behave, I might just let you touch me,” you offered, like dangling a piece of food in front of a starving animal. 

“Yeah?” 

You just smiled against his skin. 

Continuing your exploration, you moved inward, barely feeling the ridges of the indents of his skin. Moving up his cheek, to across where his nose would be, then to the other cheek, you littered his face with kisses, purposely avoiding his lips. His eyes continued to flutter open and close, and at this proximity, you were able to see short, brown eyelashes. How… peculiar. And cute. 

You didn’t make any comment on them, choosing to move back down again. But you went past his jaw this time, down to his neck, and you felt his head roll back to allow you more room. You felt him jump when you sunk your teeth into the skin before moaning beautifully, and you ran over the hurt with your tongue. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as his hands instinctively went up to touch you, then resting back down on the bed, grabbing at the bedsheets instead. 

There wasn’t much exposed skin left when you reached where his neck and shoulders met, his shirt now covering it. Leaning back, you gestured for him to sit up, helping ease the jacket off his shoulders when he did. He pulled his arms out, and it pooled around his waist, still sitting on most of it. You didn’t care, as long as you could get his get his shirt off.

You hesitated a second before beginning to fiddle with the buttons, glancing up into his eyes. “Alright?” 

“You don’t gotta keep askin’, sweetheart,” he responded breathlessly. “I’ll let you know if I don’t want somethin’.”

You grinned at him, before quickly getting to work and taking off his button-up shirt. With every inch of his body that was revealed to you, you felt your heart accelerate, excitement bubbling in you. He had just gotten his arms out of the garment and had tossed it to the floor before you were forcing him back down on the bed with hands on his chest, loving how easily he complied. 

You let your fingers drag down the front of his chest, nails scratching lightly. Even with the thick scarring covering his body, he was still able to feel it, and he shivered. Your breath caught when you finally looked for yourself, instead of letting your touch see for you. To say he was gorgeous would be an understatement. All lean muscle, you could feel them flex and jump when you touched him, and for a moment you remembered how strong this man was. And here he was, submitting to your every request. You really did try to not let it go to your head. 

“You’re so beautiful, Cooper.” You hadn’t even realized you’d let his real name slip until he went deathly still beneath you. Glancing up at him, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, and you thought you went too far. Still, he had yet to say anything, and so you kept your mouth shut. You trusted that he would stop you.

Continuing to touch him, you barely heard the soft plea that he uttered. “Say it again.” 

The expression clicked now, and you smiled gently at him. You felt truly happy, knowing there was another thing he trusted you with. “Cooper,” you sighed, and you were startled when you felt his hands grasp at you, desperately trying to pull you towards him. You braced on his chest, stopping him, and you glanced at where his hands now rested until he tore them away. You made a disapproving noise as you leaned back down, teasing him by brushing your lips against his. But with the way you were sitting and the way you pressed down on his chest, he couldn’t meet you, and you heard him make a frustrated noise.

“Do I gotta tie your hands up, Cooper?” You semi-joked, gauging his reaction. When his eyes somehow darkened even more, you knew he was down. 

You both knew that he could easily “break free” from the restraints you’d placed on him; he had ghoul strength, and you were just a human. But he continued to play into your game, and you were grateful for it. You were having too much fun. 

“If ya keep sayin’ my name like that, then ya might have to.” 

“Oh, you’re too good to me, baby,” you praised, hands retracting so you could reach behind you. You smirked at his reaction when you tugged at his belt, being sure to purposely graze over the evident strain in his pants. You gave him the most innocent look you could when he glared at you, returning your touch to his belt. It took a bit of maneuvering, and with some help from him raising his hips, you were able to free it.

The headboard was made from metal bars, so you were easily able to secure his wrists to it. The restraint wasn’t tight, tight enough to keep him in place, but if he severely needed to leave then he could easily escape. When you sat back, you admired the sight before you. Your wildest dreams were playing out right in front of you, and you couldn’t be more excited.t

Starting at the base of his throat, you began to move down his body, pressing your lips against the skin as you descended. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue flick over it, eliciting a whine from him. Your fingers toyed with the other one, making him squirm. You couldn’t deny that the noises he was making were making you dizzy, a familiar tension building in you. But you kept an amused and unaffected expression on your face, not wanting to break yet. 

You didn’t stay there for long, continuing your descent downwards. You scratched lightly over his abs when you reached them, and you figured goosebumps would be covering his body by now.

 “I could just leave you like this, you know,” you commented as you moved backward. “Hands bound, aching, wanting.” Your hands trailed down his thighs. 

“You wouldn’t,” he groaned, and you just flashed a smile at him.

“Oh, but I could.” You now rested just below his thighs, your own straddling them. “I could just sit here and make you watch as I touch myself, make myself cum, screaming your name.” You heard the belt rattle against the bedframe when you let one of your hands trail down your stomach, a gasp leaving you when you reached the band of your underwear. “Then leave you alone with just your thoughts, imagining all the things you could’ve done to me. Just how I spent every night this past year. Revenge is a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Sweetheart, please.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard something so wonderful, arousal spiking in your body. His eyes bore into you as you reached behind you, unclasping your bra. You let it slide off your body before setting it gently on the floor. Squeezing your breasts in your hands, you let your head roll back, his name tumbling from you. You debated moaning the other man’s name, the one in the bar, but you couldn’t remember it. Besides, you were torturing the man enough, and you assumed that he would tear through his bindings if you did. 

Eventually, you took pity on him, and your desire was starting to get in the way of your need to draw this out. He jumped when you rested your hands on his thighs, expecting you to do what you said, and you could feel the relief it brought him.

It didn’t take long for you to unbutton his pants, even less to unzip them. You tugged both them and his boxers down enough to free him. He was already rock hard, almost painfully so, and a strangled groan left him. The noise shot straight to your core, and you sighed in appreciation at him. He was long, not overwhelmingly so, but you knew you’d be feeling him for days to come. 

Keeping your eyes on him, you leaned forward and lapped at the tip, licking the bead of moisture there. You watched as he tried to move to touch you, and you grinned at him when the restraint stopped him. You could see the plea in his eyes, and you just shook your head at him. Not yet. 

Another run of your tongue made him curse, and you cooed at him. “Want me to take care of this, baby?”

“Please,” he gasped out.

“Well, when you ask that nicely.”

He didn’t get a chance to prepare before you were running your tongue along his entire length, base to tip, before taking as much of him as you could in your mouth. You took what you couldn’t fit in your hand, moving in tandem with your mouth as you sucked him. It was nearly unintelligible, but you heard your name being moaned by him. 

Bobbing your head up and down, you were unrelenting in the pleasure you were giving him, and you could feel his hips begin to buck and twist, and you moved your mouth off him before he could hit the back of your throat. 

Glancing up at him, he looked absolutely wrecked, and the fact made you smile cruelly. You could tell that he was close, by the way he pulsed and throbbed in your hand as you continued to stroke him. Your name was just streaming from him freely, straining and pressing against the belt. The bedpost made an awful noise, but it was covered by his noises. “You close, Cooper?”

His head had been thrown back against the pillows as pleasure coursed through him, but you watched as he flicked his gaze down to you. “Fuck, sweetheart, yes.” You hadn’t meant to, but you let it slip through in your expression what you were planning, and dread washed over his face. He groaned you name, almost in warning, but you ignored him. 

To his very evident displeasure, you let go of him, his incoming release ebbing away as you sat up. A string of curses left him, and a drop of sweat rolled down his face. His eyes were blazing with lust and anger, but they melted a bit when regarding you. At least the anger did. The lust seemed to just flare up, especially when he as you stood to slip off your underwear. “You only get to cum when I do, got it?”

He was able to see the evidence of your arousal on them as you discarded them, and even in the position he was in a cocky smile grew on his face. “Perfectly.” That cocky smile was wiped off when he saw you reach for his hat, putting it on your head as you climbed back onto the bed. As you straddled his lap, realization flashed on his features. “Are you tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me?” He wheezed, a mix of laughter and a groan. 

“I’m surprised I haven’t already,” you teased back, your hands bracing on his chest. Just like you thought, his heart pounded against your fingertips. Rocking your hips slowly, you began to rut against him, coating him in your arousal. 

You heard the tell-tale clink of his belt rattling against the bedframe. “Can I touch ya now, sweetheart?” He gasped out.

You seriously considered it for a moment, but you decided against it. “When you make me cum, you can. But if you finish before me…” You let the words trail off, the threat evident enough.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue, knowing that it would get him further away from what he wanted. You grinned at his compliance, rewarding him by getting on your knees and lining him up with your entrance. Sinking onto him, a gasp tore from you as he pressed into you. It had been so long since you’d been stretched like this, and it felt even better than you remembered. Or maybe it was because it was with him. 

His grip was vice-like against the metal bars as you slowly sank down on his cock, almost painful-sounding grunts and moans leaving him. It was a slow process, but eventually, you felt your hips go flush with his. “Oh, Cooper, baby,” you groaned, and you felt him twitch inside of you.

“You… you can’t say shit like that and then expect me to last,” he whined, and you laughed gently. 

“You need a moment?” You refrained from adding ‘baby’ to the end, knowing he was about to snap. 

A shaky exhale left him. “Just… just a moment.”

You hummed in response, letting yourself sit there for a moment. It felt like torture, wanting nothing more than to ride him, but you held back. You tried to not move too much, either, and you eventually felt his breathing calm some. It was still sporadic, but not as much as before. 

“Go ‘head now.” You didn’t have to be told twice. 

Starting with a slow roll of your hips, you began to move up and down. One hand was planted on his chest, the other on his hat to keep in on your head as it rolled back. It only took a few moments for you to fall into a rhythm, the slow movements gradually building to something faster. 

“Cooper, fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned, and you heard him make some noise in agreeance. Another roll of your hips made you see stars, and you could feel that familiar tension begin to build, slowly but surely. 

“What a sight you are,” he murmured between breaths, and you looked down to see him staring at you, almost mesmerized. “Wearin’ my hat while ya fuck yourself on my cock. Fuck, a man could die happy like this.”

You tried to grin down at him, but the pleasure became too much as you continued to rock, and you felt yourself falter. Instead, you just moaned out fragments of his name. He was all you could feel, pressing into spots that made you cry out, hitting them with each roll. “Baby.”

God, you loved the way he reacted whenever you uttered that name. His hips jumped, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The hand planted on his chest dug into the toughened skin, nails no doubt leaving indents, but he didn’t seem to mind. Even though your legs were beginning to shake, you didn’t let up, moving up and down, your breathing becoming labored. You could feel yourself getting closer; you just needed a little more.

After angling your body to keep it steady, you let go of his hat, moving your hands to between your legs. It made you groan, feeling the way his cock moved in and out of you as you began to rub at your clit. The extra stimulation made you cry his name out loudly, and you knew there would be complaints from the other patrons of the hotel.

Your walls tightened around him, making him bite down harshly on his bottom lip to keep from cumming right there. His eyes flicked downward, his mouth going slack as he watched you touch yourself. He forced himself to look away, blown-out eyes staring into yours. You could see the tendons in his neck strain as he concentrated on controlling his release. 

The extra pleasure was what you needed, and you could feel your impending release inch closer. “You close, sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, and you nodded furiously. “You gonna cum on my cock? Fuck, yeah you are.”

“Cooper, you can…” Your words were cut off with a whine. 

He seemed to get what you were saying, and he groaned in relief. “Can I finish in ya, sweetheart? Fill up that perfect cunt?”

“Please.” For the first time during the night, you pleaded for something. You were on the verge of release, your movements growing frantic as you chased your release.

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel ya.” 

As you cried out his name again, you came, your body going slack as pleasure made you boneless. It wasn’t your first orgasm in a year, far from it, but it felt so much better when it came from another person. Your nerves hummed and you felt weightless, soft whines and pants leaving you. 

You barely managed to catch yourself before you fell on top of him, and the clench of you around him was all he needed for his own release, having staved it off for a long time now. He was even louder than you were, your name coming out like a sharp bark as he came, and you could feel his release seep into you, coating you. 

The room felt awfully quiet now, even though it was filled with the sound of both of you catching your breaths. With unstable legs, you lifted yourself up and off of him, and you watched as his spend dripped out of you and onto his abdomen. Groans both left you at this sight. 

You had been so caught up in the sight that it nearly startled you when you heard the clinking noise again. Glancing up at him, he gave you an expectant look, an almost teasing smirk on his face as he rattled the belt again. “You gonna release me? I’ve been good.” You scoffed at the way he pouted at you.

“You have been,” you agreed. “My good boy,” you added as you reached for the belt. His eyes widened, sucking in a gasp, and if could, he would be blushing. 

You just smirked down at him as you released him, but that victory was short-lived when you felt his hands immediately shoot to your body. He practically yanked you down to his mouth, desperately claiming your lips in a messy kiss. His hands roamed over every part of your body, the rough skin making you whine in pleasure, and you could feel his responding smile. 

As much as you were loving his attention, you had to admit you were incredibly exhausted, especially now. A yawn tore through you, interrupting the kiss, and you pulled back. “Am I borin’ you, sweetheart?” He asked, amused.

“You could never. But I don’t think I can do all that again,” you laughed breathlessly. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” he smirked. “And the next day. And the next.”

You slapped lightly at his chest, chuckling. “Eager, are we?”

“Desperately,” he growled lightly before pulling you back to his lips. This kiss was gentler, although no less passionate. He laughed boisterously when you pulled away to yawn again, fingers halting their exploration. 

When you tried to pull away, though, he didn’t let go, keeping your body close. “Baby, I need to get us cleaned up,” you laughed, trying and failing to escape his hold. “I’m not going to bed covered in…” You trailed off, too embarrassed to finish the sentence. You tried to wiggle free, and you sighed in defeat when he didn’t let go. 

“You’re blushin’,” he teased, making your ears burn more. “You were spewin’ those filthy things earlier without a second thought, but now you’re actin’ all shy?”

“I hate you,” you grumbled.

“Sure ya do, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout this? You finish what you were ‘bout to say, and I’ll let ya go. For a minute or two, that is.”

You sighed again. “I was saying that I’m not going to bed covered in your cum,” you said with major hesitancy, your ears on fire. 

“Why not?”

You slapped his chest again. “I did what you asked. Let me go, Cooper.”

He debated it for a moment. “Fine,” you felt his hand let up its hold, “but if you ain’t back in a minute, I’m draggin’ ya back to the bed.”

Now on a timer, you quickly got off his lap, not before pressing one last kiss to his cheek. On shaky legs, you made your way to the bathroom, flipping him off when he laughed at your inability to walk in a straight line. After using the bathroom, you used one of the provided washrags, dampening it before running it between your legs, and cleaning you up. Grabbing a new one, you dampened it as well before heading back to the bathroom.

He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, the rest of his clothing discarded on the floor, and he looked up when he saw you enter. “Thought I was ‘bout to drag you back,” he commented as you approached him, grinning when he saw your unabashed staring. “Like what ya see?”

You wiped that proud expression off when the cold washcloth made contact with his skin, and you quickly wiped him down. He hissed when it ran over his cock, and you muttered a small apology. You tried to move back to the bathroom to discard the cloth, but you felt him wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him. You felt him kiss the back of your neck, and you felt him yank the cloth from your hand, tossing it vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. 

He pulled you back onto the bed, adjusting the covers so that they covered you both, the one arm never leaving your waist, his face burrowed into your neck. Out of all the things you expected him to be, a cuddler was not one of them. But you certainly weren’t complaining.

Because of the heat of him behind you, and the exertion of the day's activities, you felt exhaustion take over you again, and your eyes fluttered close. “You still owe me anther drink,” you heard yourself mutter. 

The rumble of his chest from his laughter was the last thing you remembered before you fell asleep. 

Author’s Note: i stole the hat thing from one of my other fics, but i love it so much that i needed to use it again. also might write a continuation/pt.2 to this, idk yet.

also thank you @kinatanhi yet again for the comment that helped inspire all this <3

[the-faceless-bride]

No. Not again. Not you.

Yandere Cooper Howard/The Ghoul × Vaultie!R

Summary: The Ghoul of the wasteland had exepted the man he once was is dead. He isn't caring. Isn't loving. Isn't feeling. Friendship, companionship, partnership... love? Wasn't for him. Not anymore. But all that comes crashing down when he meets you... you brought something back from the dead.. though it isn't as 'good' as it used to be...

Warnings: yandere content, Cooper being controlling, Canon violence, death (not reader or Cooper), violence towards reader (by both strangers and a litte Cooper), flashbacks, and forced kissing.

You stumble around behind Cooper talking about the town you were about to come up apon, you were happy to babble away to him, and though he wouldn't always answer, he would always listen.

You liked traveling around, especially with Cooper; you were in a vault all your life, not by choice. But to be out of it was an amazing feeling, even if in the start Cooper didn't take your optimistic outlooks to kindly.

You remember how dumb he thought you were...

You'd just escaped your vault. And you were so confused...

You remember 'yesterday' you were baking a pie waiting for your husband to come home, when you heard a big bang, your husband rushed in took you. And you just passed out... you had always told him you didn't trust vault-tech or the people who were a part of it. But he didn't care, he was desperate.

When you woke up, the Vault was empty... quiet... bloodied... you stumbled around, trying to find something, someone... anyone... when you heard a whistle,

"Pphheeeww- looks like I've got a live one," a voice called out; turning around meeting the face of the goul... it shocked you at first your face contorting, but it wasn't so much fear as it was confusion... who is that? Had the war started? How long has it been? "If I were you I'd hope my pretty ass back into that ice block and let the world rot away,"

God, you remember him putting you through hell and back; no water or food, hot unforgiving sun, the fighting, crying, begging, and eventual acceptance.

"You think the people here will be friendly?" You babble as you reach for the canteen on his side; he let's you take it, moving his coat to the side for an easier reach. "Friendly?-" he laughs like you've told him the funniest joke he'd ever heard, "when is anyone out here friendly? What did it teach you? You need a reminder?" He smirks, turning to look at you, "Oh no thanks!" You yipp as you take a swig of water.

You and Cooper walk into the town, eyes all around you. Some curious, some cautious, other dangerous... most eyes not on you, but Cooper. The Ghoul. Most people would never know you were a Vault dweller, you'd exchanged the blue and yellow suit in for a teal top and brown loose pants and some boots, Cooper made sure to tell you that if you kept that look somebody would've tried to sell you. You got lucky to be with him.

You didn't want to run off, You'd learned your lesson before; but you were hungry, and you saw what looks to be a place for food and bar. But you didn't want to just run off, especially if it could be dangerous... you wouldn't want Cooper to get in a brawl again.

"What do you think Cooper?" You whisper to him, only for him to hear, you whisper his name.

You liked saying his name. You didn't say it often, but when you did, it always felt good; even if it was a little strange. You still remember the first time he'd told you his name.

You'd woken up to russeling sounds when you spotted the small group trying to steal your supplies. And you yelled "Ghoul!"

You yelled as loud as you could, and He woke up, the Group of four masked raiders all attacked. And you sat there like a complete idiot while he took on all four men while little to no effort.

And even if you hadn't actually fought, you'd felt like you were on the edge of a panic attack, what if something happens to him? You'd be alone. What would happen to you? Would you be killed? Sold? Forced to-

*BANG*

The last gunshot that rang out, the last body falling ti the floor before he walks over and kneels down to your stance where you sat on the ground. "I'm- I'm sorry Ghoul, I just- I saw them I panicked it was like I couldn't even move- I'm sorry Ghoul, I just-" -- "Cooper." -- "what?" -- "My name. It's Cooper."

"Cooper." You smiled.

He didn't smile back, but you could see his eyes change. He didn't look so angry when he looked at you.

He nodded his head and handing a handfull of caps to you, a silent 'okay' for you to break away from him. At least for a little while.

You'd sat in a stool up at the bar eating the first hot meal in God knows how long, and sipping on a sweet drink that was a bit too strong for you, "what's a cutie like you doing here alone?" You heard a man call to you. He wasn't much, scruffy, scrawny, but had very pretty eyes.

"I'm not alone,'you say confidently with a sweet smile, one you're sure he's never seen before.

He takes the stool next to you and tries to have a conversation with you. But quickly gets irritated when you don't play along. And that's when he became ugly...

Yelling, cursing, name calling, everything under the sun wa seeing tossed at you because you told this strange man, "No." You hadn't taken his as anything serious, all bark no bite. Throwing a hissy fit because you wouldn't let him fuck you for a few caps.

And it wasn't until you felt a sting on your left cheek and your head snapped to the side when you realized. He had struck you. Before he grabbed you, pulling you to him, kissing and grabbing at you. The other bar goers had found this... funny. At least until a loud bang was heard and the mans brains splattered all over your face and bar.

"Now who the hell do you think you are to mess with another man's woman?"

"Cooper?"

A rope found its way tosses around you as Cooper shoved you down and into a corner, "don't fucking move."

You were on the road again, Cooper muttering curses under his breath. Still at the man who'd dared lay a hand on your sweet skin, damning him and all his friends who laughed.

No matter how hard you tried you haven't been able to get to him. He just mutters over and over. He could've lost you.

That man would've done much work that just kiss and grab you had he not been there.

Much worse. You would've been killed by the end of it.

"I won't lose you. I won't. Not again."

"Cooper." You tried to move around him to get infront of him, but a harsh grasp hand you in place. "Ouch! Cooper that hurt."

"Where do you think you're going?" -- "No where! I'm just worried about you!"

"I won't lose you. Not again."

"Wha-"

You didn't have time to talk, Cooper kissed you.

"Humph!" Your shock is muffled. You try to pull away.

He doesn't let go...

[thelampisaflashlight]

Right Here, Right Now

[Aether meets a friend at the bar. Dewther.] Below the cut.

The bar is pleasantly warm when Aether shuffles inside, sniffling lightly as his nose dribbles slightly from the shift in temperature; It's a cold, dark, and shockingly dry November outside, but he'll gladly brave the frosty night air if it means he gets to hang out in a place like this for at least a little while.

"Oi, Aeth, over here!" a rough voice calls out from a booth in the corner, a pale, skinny arm shoots into the air, waving him over.

Aether smiles and makes his way over, weaving passed tables and chairs packed with other patrons, and plops himself down inside the booth with a soft "umph" as the seat gives more resistance than expected upon impact.

"Took you long enough." the other sniffs, not so much in an annoyed fashion but in more of a relieved way -Aether's known him for years, he should know by now what the difference is- and slides him over a glass of slowly warming beer, "Ice's already melted."

"It's fine, think I'll like it better warm with how cold it is out there." he sighs, slipping his coat off and setting it beside him on the bench, "Did I keep you waiting, Dew?"

The fire ghoul shrugs, stirring his own drink, something blood red and fruity, with his straw, "Ehn, not really, got here about fifteen minutes ago."

"It's funny," he adds, "how we can arrive here at different times despite leaving from the same location..."

Aether snorts.

"I had to make a stop along the way to grab a couple things..." he says, reaching into his coat pocket and revealing a small carboard box, which he flashes the label of to Dew before hiding it away again, "Forgive me?"

Dew shifts in his seat a little, "...I'll think about it."

"We don't have to-" Aether starts, but something in the way Dew meets his gaze makes him bite his tongue, "Tell me about your day."

And, just like that, the pair fall into a casual conversation, ranging from the wonderous bullshit that is having to do ministry paperwork, to tales of the younger, less seasoned ghouls getting up to shenanigans.

"-and then Aurora looked at me like I had two heads when I said I knew about the caves." Dew rolls his eyes, leaning backwards, his long red hair bobbing back and forth in the loose bun he's pulled it into, hands gesturing widely, "Like, it's the caves, Aeth, the caves."

"I remember when I first went there," Aether chuckles, "I thought it was super secluded, too, and then I found out-"

"-That the sauna is, like, right fucking there, yeah?" Dew finishes and Aether nods, grinning, "Ah, well, now she knows... Hahh..."

Aether sips his beer -his third overall- and sets the glass down with a heavy sigh, "It's been a while since we've gotten to hang out like this, ya know, one on one..."

"It has," Dew agrees, sitting back up so he can reach over and finish off his own drink, "us old timers don't get out that much, do we?"

"Ouch."

"What?"

"'Old timers'... You wound me, Dewdrop." Aether jokes, giving a yelp when Dew's foot collides with his ankle, "What was that for?"

"We're old, Aeth, nothin' wrong with admitting that." he ruffles slightly, "Just means we have more experience..."

Dew's foot brushes against Aether's leg again, but this time the movement is softer, more deliberate, as he slides it upwards, stopping about midcalf, "...Right?"

Aether lets out a little huff, "Cheeky as ever..."

"You like it." Dew hums, leaning forward, "How about you and me get out of here?"

"Your place or mine?"

"We'll just start walking and see where we end up first."

Dew laughs, hiding his face behind his hand when a handful of the other patrons look over.

"...I like the sound of that." he whispers, and Aether feels, more than he sees, his fear.

Dew pays their bill, and Aether makes himself a wall.

They walk back to the abbey, watching the lights of the town turn into distant sparks, moving at a leisurely pace until the sidewalk turns into grass and then finely compacted earth underfoot.

Dew's hand, which had been brushing against his the whole way, but never quite catching, finds its way into Aether's, and their fingers slip together easily.

Everything about what they're doing feels easier when it's dark, when no one can see it, when it feels safe.

Even still...

"I love you." he says, "You know that, right?"

I know. I love you, too." Dew gives his hand a squeeze, "It's just... People can be dicks when it comes to things they don't understand."

"Fuck 'em." Aether lifts his chin, giving a little grunt, before lowering his head and sighing, "I get it though... Better safe than sorry, even in a town like ours... I wish it was different, but I also know things aren't going to change overnight."

"Sorry for bringing the mood down-"

"No! I mean, no, it's good." Aether clarifies, turning towards Dew and holding his other hand, "It's... you're being logical. I just, when I'm with you, it's easy to... to forget."

"I'm just being paranoid-"

They both pause, taking a deep breath.

"...No more scary real world shit?" Dew sticks his pinkie out towards Aether, who hooks his around it, "Yeah?"

"You've got a deal, Sparks."

Dew unruffles a bit, releasing Aether's hands so he can stretch and soothe the tension in his, well, everything.

"Back on track." Aether says, reaching into his jacket pocket and withdrawing the package from earlier; A box of condoms that seems to have already been opened, although it's hard to tell in the dark.

"Right here??" Dew flusters, looking around, "Aether-"

"Wait, shit-" Aether digs deeper into his pocket, "-Not that one, not yet... Fuck, where did I-OH!"

Aether withdraws a smaller box from his breast pocket, "Forgot I put it there... Ha, ha..."

"Aether, what..."

The quint, opens the box and holds it out towards Dewdrop, easing himself down onto one knee.

"I was going to wait, surprise you with it later, but I..."

Dew practically bowls him over with the force of his hug.

"Right here?" Aether teases, and Dew gives a wet laugh.

"You wanna marry me?" Aether asks as Dew wraps his arms around him.

"Only if you wanna marry me." Dew replies and Aether snickers.

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to." he says, rubbing his back as the wobbly laughter turns into genuine crying, "Oh, love..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just..." Dew deflates a bit, "Fuck, I'm just all over the place tonight..."

"You wanna talk about it?" Aether asks, feeling Dew pull away, "What's wrong?"

Dew digs into his pocket.

"I was trying to think of a good time to ask... I was stressing out about it all night and then you, and I, and..."

Aether looks at the gold band pinched between Dew's trembling fingers.

"You-"

The fire ghoul captures his lips.

"Right here." he gasps.

"Right here, right now."

.

.

.

"Aether, Dew, you're back-" Mountain greets as the pair stumbles into the common room, staring as he takes in their messed up hair and wrinkled clothing, "...Do I wanna know what happened?"

Dew wipes his nose on his shirt, which is covered in mud and... something Mountain decides not to acknowledge at the moment.

"...We're getting married?"

"You're what-"

"Married. Going to be." Aether supplies unhelpfully, then claps him on the shoulder, "Wanna be my best man?"

Mountain opens his mouth, then closes it, assessing the situation, and then sighs.

"You know what? Sure, but also, what the fuck-"

[miss-multi45]

Heyheyehey

I love your writing so much, honestly you're the bestttt

I was wondering if you could do headcannons on how the ghouls/ghoulettes react to plus size reader, if you've already done this would you do headcanons on how they'd react to plus size reader feeling insecure and starving herself? (Totally not projecting myself onto this lolz)

Anyway thank you so much, please remeber to stay hydrated and eat something

(I was also wondering if I could be known as 🐝 anon)

of course you can, 🐝 anon! ♡♡ i love the plus size girlies!

GHOULS WITH A PLUS SIZE FEM!READER!

Swiss

this man LOVES plus size girls

so much to love, so much to mark, so much to scent

but when he finds out you're starving yourself?

he started to panic about losing you, losing you to insecurities

next time he saw you, he lifted you up without any trouble (ghouls and ghoulettes are strong as fuck) and carried you to his room

he left his room, and came back with a [favourite sandwich] sandwich and a packet of crisps [i'm british, chips for americans]

he held you in his arms and made sure you ate

while you're eating, he's tracing the stretch marks all over you

"my little tigress, gorgeous girl.." he purrs into your thighs

satan, this man adores plus size people

Sodo

simp for plus size people

when he first saw you, he walked into a wall by accident because of how captivating you are

he did eventually find out about your insecurities and how you were starving yourself through the ghoulettes

he trudged to your room, swung the door open with a bowl of strawberry ice cream in one hand, and a massive poofy, fluffy blanket with skull designs on it in the other

he will put something on for you two to watch and drape the blanket over both of you, and he will make sure you eat

it's completely ok if you don't eat all of it, if you eat a big enough portion that's amazing, but if you don't eat any?

he won't force feed you or spoon feed you, he will put some ice cream in his mouth, then transfer it to your mouth by kissing you

"pretty baby, please eat. you're fucking delicious, i love you and your body."

he massages any places you're massively insecure about

Rain

just like sodo, he saw that you had that bit of chub at the bottom of your torso like every woman has, and he spilled his drink because of how distracted he was

he likes kissing that part of you. like a lot

nobody needed to tell him you were starving yourself, he knew

he could smell it, and he saw the way you left the room when food came in

he was heartbroken you didn’t like your body, he thought you were trying to kill yourself

he came into your room one rainy, foggy night and immediately burst into tears

"my love, my sweet darling, baby shark, please eat something. i don't want to see you starve yourself, you're too precious. i don't care what you look like, i'm in love with you, (y/n)."

i'm making myself blush holy shit-

he gave you a packet of lady fingers and made sure you ate it

Phantom

infatuated with all of you

likes to leave hickeys along your thighs and hips

love handles. are. his. favorite. thing

he caught wind of you not eating, he was enraged that your insecurities went that far

as soon as he confirmed it, he bolted to your room and slammed the door behind him

*aggressive panting* *holds up a selection of chocolate bars* "babygirl, either you eat one of these, or i will devour your pussy until you learn to love your delicate and magical body."

you did the first one, he did the second one

he's a switch, in my eyes

Mountain

out of all of the ghouls, he's by far the one who obsesses over plus size women

he just adores everything about them, their thighs, their hips, their love handles, their stretch marks, their breasts

when he started dating you? he left so many marks on you, he scented you to make sure no other ghouls laid a single atom on you

he felt kinda guilty when he found out about you starving yourself because of insecurities

was he obsessing over you too much? did he make you feel uncomfortable? was it his fault?

you had to reassure him it wasn't his fault at all

he dropped to his knees when you told him, wrapping his arms around your waist and looking up at you

"flower, my rose, my gorgeous blooming dandelion, look at you. you're absolutely stunning, every single part of you was blessed by Aphrodite."

genuinely, you are a goddess in his eyes

my eyes too

Aether

he's a thicc boi, he loves any and every female body type that exists

he couldn't handle making eye contact with a woman as beautiful as you

when you asked him if he wanted to be your boyfriend, he got a boner

he hid it well though, you had no clue he was hard

after a while of noticing you behaving oddly, he found out through the ghoulettes

his heart dropped back to the pits where he came from, and his eyes grew cloudy

he rushed to you with a bowl of fucking spaghetti and apple juice (i love apple juice, and you should too) and purred into your back while you ate it

he drank half of the apple juice

"my star, my queen, i love your body. i love you, i want to marry you."

he helped you every step of the way to love your body

Omega

another thicc boy, who love thicc women

you were the first plus size woman he'd seen in ages, literally

fell head over heels for you and 0.004 milliseconds after seeing you, he wanted you, he wanted you to belong to him

when you started dating, he got you a lot of lace underwear

he likes the way it hugs your jaw-dropping body

he dug up the truth himself, his deity of a girlfriend is starving herself? he will drown whoever made you feel like that

you had to tell him it was your insecurities, and he picked you up by your thighs (strong man) and gazed into your eyes

"bunny..what? you're insecurities are making you hate your body it's going into forced starvation? oh bunny, you're perfect. jaw-droppingly beautiful. i wish you could see yourself the way i see you."

he helps you love your body, just like aether

Alpha

buddy already knew the second he saw you, he also fell in love with you the second he saw you

"she's so fucking hot..i know she's insecure. satan, she's too gorgeous for this world.."

you were on his mind 24/7 365/366

he made the first move, he has godlike confidence in himself

"hello, (y/n). would you like to be my mate, pretty girl?"

you said yes, because of the massive crush you had on him

he didn't know you were starving yourself, however

when he did know, he was with you at all times, making sure you ate enough to satiate your body's needs

he made sure to never let you skip a meal ever again

Ifrit

he likes all women, especially thicker, plus size women

likes lifting you up by your thighs just to stare at you

and show off his strength

he could smell you were starving yourself, and he didn't like it

he also knew exactly why you were doing it

"puppy, why do you want to be skinnier? you don't need to change the way you look. insecurities are just bullies that live in your head, you can get rid of bullies, puppy. i will help you."

he wraps his tail around your thighs, "you see this? this is good, it's delicious, it's sexy, good to hold onto and mark and squeeze when i fuck you."

does that with every part of your body you're insecure about

GHOULETTES WITH A PLUS SIZE FEM!READER

Aurora

holy shit, you're stunning

no seriously, she is flabbergasted when she sees you for the first time

"woah..swiss look at her.." "hot." "shut up, she's mine." "..but you told me to look at her-" "to see what you will never have, that girl is mine."

when you officially start dating, she's over the moon

shows you off, like 'my babygirl. my wife. my mate.'

cried when she found out that you stopped eating

did a girls night in and did your nails to make you feel better

strawberry, raspberry, banana, blueberry flavor snacks

not to make you lose or gain weight, she just really likes fruit flavor things

also, aurora is a pro at doing nails. she can do nail art, all that shit

Cirrus

choked on her food when you walked past

"oh my satan..that woman is a goddess..i need her.."

you're her queen

she's your queen

she joins aurora's girls night in and all of the ghoulettes help you to feel empowered by your body

"aurora, i have a special girl here who isn't feeling particularly proud of how delicious her jaw-dropping body is." "WHAT. BRING HER IN THIS INSTANT."

cirrus bought you and her matching sets of lingerie

dark green for her, lilac for you

she is so proud of how far you've come, she will never leave your side

Cumulus

bbg used to be insecure about her body too

learned to love it with the help of cirrus and aurora

she can tell you don't like your body, she can tell you starve yourself

she will do everything in her power to let you love yourself

lets you lay your head on her thighs and plays with your hair as you sleep and you wake up with hickeys and bites all over you

how mysterious

Mist

oh my god you don't understand how much she wants you to sit on her lap

kiss her until your lipstick is her new skin colour

stares at you like 😱 when she finds out you don't eat as much as you need to

"you're insecure? beautiful, that's ok. just don't starve yourself to feel like you're 'perfect', you're already perfect."

gets distracted by your stretch marks and doesn't pay attention to anything she's meant to be hearing

she loves everything about you, and you being plus size makes her horrifically down bad for you

please make sure to eat, drink and sleep, 🐝 anon! I love you ♡♡

[you-know-honey]

Nameless Ghouls doing Cosplay

Note:

I know it sounds a little strange, but I've always thought about this a little, it will fall into the headcanons category because I'm dying to start with this. Hope you like. I will use images of the character or fanart to illustrate those who do not know the character. CREDITS TO THOSE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE IMAGES

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔰

Mountain

Piramid Head

I feel like he became obsessed with the game and plays it every year religiously. He doesn't understand why now everyone wanted to be sexy, he wanted to be scary. Spoilers! A tall man, with a mask and no shirt, was not scary, many girls approached him to ask for photos and try to get his phone number. This guy is shy, so all the attention overwhelmed him a little, but he was happy that people liked his cosplay and he even signed some fanarts. But that hand on his butt definitely made him blush, girls are a little more daring than he expected.

Phantom

Eric Draven

When he saw the movie with Sodo he simply loved it and stole Brandon Lee's personality for months, he stole some makeup from Copia to be able to give it the final touch although he had to ask for some help from Cirrus to avoid making a mess in the bathroom and not ruin the makeup. He left everything for last and 2 days before the convention was stealing part of the suit from each ghoul's closet. He even recorded some videos simulating part of the movie and almost fell from the third floor of the ministry while doing the window scene.

Rain

Ice King

He is much calmer, the ice king seemed like a good costume, he liked the series and when he found out that there was an "Ice Princess Ball" he simply showed off by taking his forbidden steps, surprising everyone, even his classmates. Putting on the blue paint was difficult and he didn't want to damage the suit or white shirt. He made the crown by hand and asked Copia for some jewelry in exchange for ensuring that Phantom wouldn't destroy his makeup. Many fans asked him to record scenes of the character and days later he blushed when he saw millions of people praising him on the internet.

Sodo

Lestat

He's not lying, he's read the book and knows the background to the scene where Lestat turns Louis. He admires the vampire's ambition for power but mostly he does it because he can flirt or bother anyone he wants and everyone will assume that he is his character. It bothers him a little when people point out that Lestat is taller, but seeing the girls smile at him and shyly cover their faces, he just loves that they adore him. What stands out most about his cosplay is his hair, he spent hours in the bathroom to get the desired blonde, and even more time to leave it soft and silky with the smell of macadamia and honey, let's not talk about how the ghouls mocked him when he saw him come out of the shower in her bathrobe and with curlers to curl her hair. "Envious" he thought. Lestat is simply himself in another universe. A diva.

Swiss

König

Swiss is not as tall as König but that doesn't matter when you have the attitude, you are in VERY good shape and you know how to move your hips well. Damm! How can he look intimidating and sexy at the same time? He simply set the bar very high for the rest of the character's cosplayers. Although he seems serious, behind the mask he is really laughing at how nervous people were with him, he has a great time seeing everyone's open mouths as he passes by and in the contest for the best cosplay he simply sweeps away, he uses his flirtatious voice to talk to them everyone and even hoisted a couple of small children onto his shoulders for photos.

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔰

Cumuluss

Storm

She's a big fan of superheroes, especially girls who can kick anyone's ass and look cool at the same time. She also gives him the luxury of showing off her magic in the form of "special effects" to entertain some children. It amuses him to see her amazed face as she makes little clouds around her. She loves how her cape looks when she walks and she pretends to be in a scene from the movie with the rest of the ghoulettes, even "fighting" with Mountain like a real X-Men.

Aurora

Emily

She throws the popcorn on the floor every time he watches the movie when he sees how Viktor doesn't stay with Emily (it's not something the author does at all lmao). She looked at a wedding dress just like Emily's in the window of a second-hand store and the squeal of excitement was heard all the way to China. She ran to the Ministry and took out all of Cirrus's painting materials like an excited little girl, she made the ribs with real ribs that she took from an old corpse from the mass grave that was in the basement of the Ministry. She put a lot of effort into every detail and cried like she was a real bride when she saw the final result. She walked through the hallways singing until she fed up the Sisters Of Sin. But the princess is happy.

Cirrus

Mad Hatter

Cirrus didn't know anything about this character until he heard Melanie Martínez's song and did a little research and went crazy. She has seen every movie about Alice in Wonderland (with all its variants and from other countries) and has read every book until she has a large collection, but if Sebastián Stan's performance made her fall in love, Johnny Deep's moved her heart. The truth is she bought everything from a Japanese dressmaker and she was glued to the window every day when she saw a mail truck every time she saw it. She went to conventions for several days in a row just to show off her cosplay and rewatched all the movies to get more into character.

(I used an image because being a male character I couldn't find gifs for girls.)

I don't know how to do this much, I hope you like it and remember these are just MY headcanons, if they differ from yours that's great, it's good to have different opinions. But no hate, be kind to the community.

[p1nkcanoe]

"Will you stay with me again?"

[ Rain x Fem!Reader angst ]

Summary: A ghoul walks into a bar... and so does his old lover. Warnings: angst Words: 1714

Part two of Will you stay with me 'til then?

Click here to read on Ao3 or read below:

Cheap whiskey, creaky wooden floorboards, shitty live music, and the faint scent of warm vanilla.

Rain doesn’t know it yet, but an old friend has just walked through the door. She walks in hidden between a circle of friends who are unfamiliar, but her scent wafts off of her and splits through the thickness of the atmosphere tainted with sweat, dust, and the utter filth of humans. It takes him a moment to catch it, but the second it hits his nose it causes him to freeze like he’s been doused in ice-cold water. Warm vanilla, a hint of coconut, fresh laundry; her. 

He sits with his back to the bar, an ornately decorated rocks glass perched between his fingers, and stares at the wall where a faded poster of some local vodka brand hangs from rusted tacks. He’s honed in on her scent and feels the way that she passes somewhere from his left side to his right until she settles somewhere in the bar. This can’t be happening, he thinks and stares down into his glass. He must be drunk. He has to be. The honey-colored liquid swirls around as he anxiously spins the rim against the table and tries to figure out what to do with himself. It can’t be her, but it is, because he knows her scent more than he knows his own. It’s unmistakable, potent, and his hands begin to shake with the realization that his entire world has stumbled into the same dingy bar as himself. He isn’t even supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be back at the abbey in the practice room, mentoring and helping the new touring ghouls with the songs and adjustments, but he hasn’t been there to help in months… maybe even years… he can't remember. Time runs together; a blur. He isn't even sure the new summons would know who he was if he showed up like he’s supposed to. He should be disappointed with himself, but that feeling had become numb sometime far in the past. 

He’s become a shell of himself. The light within his eyes left when she did. His spirit did, too. He was retired from touring a little over eleven years ago and since then has spent his time wandering the halls and stringing guitars with arthritic fingers. The rest of his pack was sent back to the pit when they retired only a handful of years ago– Rain wasn’t allowed to. They said it was because they needed help with the new summons, but he knows deep down they don’t trust him to not be self-destructive. It’s pathetic. Everyday he longs to go home, to free himself of this purgatory, but something unexpected has happened for the first time in years and suddenly he feels like the walls are collapsing on top of him. 

Warm vanilla. It feels like secret meet-ups in broom closets and fleeting kisses in the halls. Coconut. Dates on the lake and fingers intertwined. Whispers of ‘I love you’ spoken into the other’s ear while gentle fingers brush hair behind an ear bloomed pink with blush. Fresh laundry. Rumpled sheets and clothing discarded on the floor. 

"Will you ever be back?" He’d whispered into her skin on the morning she’d left. He couldn’t even look into her eyes. He’s had plenty of time to think about it. Avoiding the inevitable only scarred him, made him bleed. It still makes him bleed. 

"I don't know."

Crushing. Devastating. And the sound of her voice in his head makes him wince. 

He was a coward then for allowing her to walk out that door. He still is. 

His foot taps anxiously against the footrest of his stool and there’s still a drink of whiskey left in his glass. He swirls it until it whirlpools and throws his head back, letting the liquid burn the inside of his throat and coat his tongue in fire. For anyone else they’d call it a lick of courage. The liquor taunts him the entire way into his belly and sits in there; mingles with shame and longing for what once was. He needs another one whether his stomach agrees with him or not. 

Feet and head argue with each other. He tries to make himself get up, to turn around towards the bar and motion for another, but his feet stay glued to the stool. He shakes, trembles all over, and the feeling eats away at his muscles until he thinks he could sob. 

She’s here. Somewhere just behind his back, like a dream he wants so badly to revisit. But if he falls back into it, it would most certainly spiral into a recurring nightmare. His ribcage expands with air, swirls in his lungs until they struggle to take in any more, and he lets it out. Finally, his legs allow him to spin. He forces himself to stand.

There was no denying she looked older and her hair was darker than all of the old photographs he’d kept. Her crows feet were more defined—as were her smile lines—but her smile was all the same. Her eyes still sparkled the same way when she laughed and her tongue still poked out between her crooked teeth. There was no doubt that this woman in this dingy bar was his old lover. She was the same, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, simply aged roughly twelve years.

He feels a sharp guilt stabbing at his chest as he rolls the bottom edge of his glass in circles on the wooden table. He imagines himself gathering up the courage to say hello, to walk himself over to the table and reintroduce himself to the same person who promised to never forget him. She'd look up at him with those big eyes and stare into a face that remained unchanged, while he would look into one that reflected the only fear she'd ever run from. He could picture the confused expressions on her friends' faces as they watched as a man who appeared a decade younger than all of them introduced himself as an old friend. Little would they know that he was actually a thousand years beyond death and reborn again under the light of ancient stars. Or maybe they would know exactly who he was. Maybe she'd broken her promise of secrecy and told the unbelievable story of her past devotion to a ghoul. 

Maybe this was all a bad idea. 

He should leave. 

A pained sigh falls past his lips as he drops his head into his hand and watches as the last droplets of whiskey swirl in his glass. He suddenly feels so thirsty. He looks up, catches eyes with the bartender, and motions for another. The bartender gives him a nod and turns for the cabinet. He settles back onto his stool, paralyzed with emotion, and watches from a distance. Invisible cuffs emerge from thin air and secure him there. He lets them. 

She looks so happy, so carefree. It makes his lips curl upwards into a sad smile. And then she laughs, that same deep laugh that comes from the belly that she always hated, and Rain feels like laughing, too. He wants to know so badly what it is that is causing her to laugh. He wants to be the one that causes it. There’s a hole in his heart that it could heal, could ease back together and allow some of that light that had seeped out to become contained again. It gnaws at his bones and he almost goes until a glass of something dark is placed next to him and the cuffs around his ankles and wrists become heavy again. 

He takes the glass in hand, brings it to his lips, and lets it rush past his lips. It burns. He cringes. His vision wobbles in minutes, the curse of his empty stomach, and he becomes lost in the background noise and his own cowardice. 

Deep in his vessel he finds the confidence to go up to her, to introduce himself and watch the way her face contorts into something reminiscent and hopeful. Somewhere in there he finds the nerve to ask her to meet him once the doors have been locked and the bar has gone quiet. And hours later she’d grab his cold hand and cover it with her own. It would be warm, like it always was. 

"Can I see you?" She’d ask and he’d furrow his brow. "I'm here."

"No, you."

And he’d allow his glamour to fall for the entire world to see. A world that only contained himself and her. And she’d smile, maybe shed a tear, and replace his clawed hand for his scale-covered face. She’d hold him, take in the unchanged features of his demonic self, and tell him he was more beautiful this way. Natural. Himself. Just as she’d always remembered; as she’d always loved. 

And then finally, he’d whisper so softly. Shaky. Terrified. 

“Will you stay with me again?” 

Just to hold against his own body, to touch her skin and taste her one last time. To feel what he once took advantage of, and never to take advantage of again. To smell and be engulfed in her love one more time… It would heal a part of him that got torn open that night. 

But if he were to ask that question she’d escape back into the night, dissolve back into the background, because deep down he knows it’s supposed to be this way. Plagued with eternal life, he could never love a mortal soul despite how much his heart screams at him to. 

And so the ghoul spins back around on his stool, swirls the last of the whiskey in his glass, and throws it back. For the last time during the night he feels the burn and waits until it hits his stomach to mix with the rest of his shame. It would be better to bleed out than to endure this pain. He yearns for the past. But he’s a coward.

The cuffs around his ankles and his wrists hit the floor and he leaves the bar, leaving behind the woman he loves more than anything. 

Again. 

She’ll never know he was there at all.

[unwilting]

Earlier this year, the North Carolina Supreme Court ruled partisan gerrymandering to be legal, overturning a long-standing ban on the anti-democratic process. This is all part of the empire-wide Republican suppression of democratic rights; the attack on bodily autonomy is merely one front of the right-fascist war on the crumbling center. Feckless and spineless Democrat leadership, in the form of the walking corpse propped up to give speeches and eat ice cream at the White House, has categorically refused to take meaningful action to protect bodily autonomy. Control over the U.S. imperial government is often bandied about like a kind of game between the various factions of the capitalist ruling class. They scheme and plot to snatch the flag of victory, and it has been the perennial Democratic strategy to attempt to do this in the face of overwhelming defeat. The tired line within the Democratic Party has it that they do best when they are confronted with the annihilation of democratic rights. Since the election of F.D.R. at the end of the 1920s, the Democrats have tried to replicate the powerful class-collaborationism of the proto-fascist New Dealers. How do they do that? By building up the right-fascist danger as much as they can. Now, the Biden cronies are counting on the administration’s own failure to prevent the rapid rollback of political and social rights to carry them to victory in the 2024 presidential election.

…Indeed, Cooper did what Biden and the White House ghouls would not dream of: as soon as Roe was overturned, he signed an executive order into law to guarantee abortion protections in his state. Knowing that he cannot win in the halls of power where his opponents possess the silver-bullet override, Cooper has turned to the real source of power: the people. Unlike the run-of-the-mill elected officials in the Empire, Cooper has spent the last week going from rally to rally to raise local opposition to the oppressive bill. He, at least, has realized the limits of Democratic strategy.

[sucaliaric]

03 April - Colorado by Night - Audio Journal by Elias

 After some discussion with the Coterie, we are headed back to the playground to speak with the weird children there.  I will take the lead in the discussions - Todd and Sam believe these are "Changeling" children who may be a key to maintaining the blood supply for the circulatory system, and I can see them the most clearly.  We direct Sherri to drive us so we will not need to leave a vehicle to be damaged while parked.  The drive goes relatively smoothly, until something sprints across the street, startling Sherri.  She is unwilling to clarify for us what she believes she saw - the poor thing is still adapting to her new life and situation without Splinter - her father and the one who had ghouled her.

 We leave the vehicle behind and I direct Sherri back to the safety of the bar.  The coterie walks to the playground - it is less crowded than before, with only a skunk-child visible, playing on the swing.  We approach, and Sam starts the discussion - the skunk-child is very confusing, and keeps refering to "pookenese"... which Sam apparently is fluent in and I am not.  The child seems familiar with Splinter, and familiar with Splinter's squirrel.  He speaks of an easy mission that Splinter completed, and notes that we're coming on a day that Splinter always loved to come on.  He comments on how Sam is prettier than Splinter, while I am uglier than Splinter, and notes that Sam is very weak with how he pushes the swing.  Eventually he calls a friend - Reggie.  Reggie is one of the largest creatures I have ever seen!  The squirrel-child wants us to get on the spinny equipment so that Reggie can push us gently... I ask Reggie about what pookenese is, which seems to greatly amuse him.  It turns out that skunk-child is a Pooka, and pookenese is generally lying.  Reggie clarifies that Splinter has a deal with the council, and he is unsure of what the nature of the deal is.  After some discussion, I convince Reggie to take me to the council - originally the whole coterie was to go, but there is only one vial of the changeling blood syrum needed to go.  Reggie seems concerned that we may be "Banal"... I am unsure of what he is referring to.  Per Reggie's direction, the Pooka and I get on and Reggie spins us... faster and faster, rainbow lights surround us...  Next that I am aware, we are in a coach headed across a bridge to a most fantastical place.  Colors brighter than I have ever seen surround us, along with all manner of unusual people.  We approach a towering castle, where the coach stops and we all step out, to be greeted by strange guards, in front of a double door guarded by massive statues.  I look down, and my clothes appear to be normal to me - a constantly changing mix of styles across the ages.  I am told that others do not see this, and I confess sometimes they seem more plain than others... right now they seem to flicker more frequently than normal... I wonder...  With a thought, I have a cloak that briefly becomes towering feathered wings before settling down back into a cloak!  This must be a future outfit... time is so challenging, but surely if I had worn such wings before I would recall.  The guards seem shocked and awed by my wings... they usher me in to see the council.  The council appears to be only three people, all devouring an absolute enormous arrangement of food.  Once again concern about being banal is raised... I wonder why, when surrounded by such incredible things, they would be concerned about me.  I am informed that Splinter had a number of areas that he kept clear of vampires, and an arrangement with the "Dragon Kin" to assist in other areas.  The council raises concerns on if I can meet these requirements, but I assure them that I can.  After discussion, I think of forming my hair into a castle - but my crafting skills are lacking, and instead I end up with what appears to be a swirl of ice cream...  Reggie, the pooka and I head back to the playground.  Back at the playground, I brief Todd and Sam while we attempt to call Sherri.  Sherri is not answering, so I instead call Amanda for arrangements for a ride and ask her to have someone check on the bar.  Amanda picks us up and takes us to the bar... the bar has been thoroughly trashed.  Sherri is missing, and werewolves have attacked us.  I begin to see red, and the beast is coming close to the surface... if they have harmed Sherri, I will burn down everything between here and Cheyenne, raze the earth and work to bring as many more of the Nexus Crawlers to light as I possibly can.  This cannot be tolerated.  We go to the "Dragon Kin" for further assistance.  The council had advised that they were a sect of werewolves that were wholly opposed to the others, and on discussion they agree to assist us with finding Sherri as well as continuing the prior deal - if we can provide them with one live werewolf per week.  Sam believes that he can - I leave this in his capable hands.  We retire for the day, planning to get together tomorrow to rescue Sherri.  We will rescue her, or I will do everything in my power to eliminate the werewolves responsible.

[nottheangel-raphael]

"You'll learn plenty about the supernatural world in here," Raphael mused, taking another sip of his wine – a longer one this time. It seemed the bait worked in luring Duncan back to his room. He never underestimated the self-serving and greedy desires of humans, especially the ones trapped here as slaves in the Undercroft. No matter how they identified, there would always be desperation to cope in whatever way they found worked. Fortunately, getting a human drunk would serve more in his favor, not that Raph needed alcohol to aid in getting his way with anyone. The intoxication would likely lead to some more confusion about the situation as they tried to piece it all together afterwards.

He smirked at the swiftly finished drink in the human's hand and followed suit, swallowing the last of his wine and summoning the bartender to close his tab. "How wonderful. Let me finish here and we can get you even stronger stuff soon," he said. The exchange with the bartender took only a minute as he was handed his card and a receipt he didn't even glance at before signing. He had an enormous amount of wealth and didn't care if the staff screwed up the costs of two drinks; it wouldn't affect his bank account. "There we are. Let's go." With his card pocketed, the ghoul gently placed a hand against the small of Duncan's back to guide him away from the bar and out of the ballroom. The castle halls were empty with everyone enjoying the party either here or down in town. They soon reached the council suites and eventually Raph's room where he let Duncan inside first and shut the door behind them both. Charlie and Mason were still out so they had the place to themselves. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of Everclear, not giving Duncan much of a choice how quickly and how much he'd get fucked up this evening. Course that wouldn't all be in part to the alcohol. "So, how long have you been at Krovs again?" he asked the slave as he mixed two shots of the stuff with ice, Sprite, and a splash of orange juice. Having two slaves that weren't vampires provided him all these groceries and knowledge on mixing drinks. Both his slaves also enjoyed drinking, likely because they had no choice in living with Raphael forever. He then offered the drink out to Duncan, his features trained into well-practiced innocence and friendliness as he faced him. "Have you caught anyone's interest around here yet?"

The condescending tone did not go unnoticed leaving the human to easily roll his eyes. Heaven forbid he remained clueless to what it was like being one of his kind. “I didn’t realize you drank wine, but you call it blood wine so it makes a bit more sense now. Learn something new every day, it seems.” Whether he wanted to learn them or not didn’t seem to matter, there were some things he’d wish he could scrub from his head. “Give it some time, when I’m aa few drinks in I’ll be way more relaxed.” He’d say ignoring the bit about going back to his suite, probably was a horrible idea considering what he was wearing or lack thereof. He gave him a look, he’d never waste the opportunity to get drunk when presented to him. “It will not go to waste.” Just then he drank down the rest of his drink, holding up the cup to the vampire to see that nothing had been wasted. “See?”

[iiisodoped-blog]

“Why be downers? Could be somethin’ good. Doesn’t hurt to be positive.”

[skepticspooked-blog]

tag drooooop. probably missing some but let’s start with these!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Late Night Talks

Summary: After a long hunt, the reader and Dean grab a late dinner on the road. Dean notices the reader not eating much and calls her out on her recent eating habits when he gets concerned about the road she’s on...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, discussion of disordered eating & eating disorders, fluff

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo! 

______

“I read this article earlier,” said Dean as he popped a french fry into his mouth. You were about five hours from home, eating a midnight dinner at some tiny little diner on the side of the road after a successful but exhausting ghoul hunt.

“Mhm,” you hummed, picking at a brussel sprout on your plate. 

“It was on disordered eating,” he said, picking up a piece of bacon that’d fallen onto his plate and eating it.

“You mean eating disorders,” you said, stabbing into the sprout and eating it before you went back to your dicing up your chicken tenderloin.

“No this was something different. It’s like, how some people shift into having an eating disorder, like pre disorder I guess.”

“So...was there something interesting in this article?” you asked, picking up a piece of chicken and taking a bite.

“Actually yeah,” he said. You chewed and took a few bites before he set the burger down and wiped off his hands. “It was about how there’s dangers involved with disordered eating since it could turn into something all consuming, like a full on eating disorder.”

“Well that sounds kinda obvious,” you said. 

“Well it was about how stuff like skipping meals, limiting your calories too much, saying some foods are good and others are bad, that stuff over time can really start to mess with your head and lead to that compulsion of being obsessed with food and weight.”

“Isn’t that just common sense,” you said. He hummed and you ate another piece of chicken before pushing the plate away. “I don’t know about you but I’m full.”

“Yeah, it is common sense,” he said. You raised an eyebrow and he pulled out his phone, tapping on it for a moment before spinning it around, showing you a number.

“Are you tracking my fucking calories?” you said.

“Oh geez, Y/N. Maybe cause you hit every red flag in that article I read and I got concerned. There’s no humanly possible way you’re full when you’ve eaten a whopping 800 calories today. You’re starving yourself.”

“I’m not hungry today, weirdo,” you said. 

“You were slow on that hunt and we both know why. You’ve been doing this for weeks really extremely and honestly, since I’ve met you.”

“I’m on a diet. You know that.”

“You’re on the ‘I’m fucking up my metabolism’ diet. Ah, that one’s a classic,” he said.

“Back off. I am not hungry lately is all.”

“Eat this,” he said, sliding his plate in front of you. He took your plate and started eating, staring at you. “Eat the burger.”

“I said-”

“Take one bite.”

“I’m not hungry,” you growled.

“Then take a bite and spit it out.” You picked up the burger, covered in cheese, bacon, peppers and a sauce that smelled so good. You swallowed and put it down, Dean shaking his head.

“Dean. I’m just not hungry.”

“Why won’t you take a bite?” he asked. You sighed and closed your eyes. “Y/N.”

“Because I’ll want to eat the whole thing and this has to be a thousand calories and I can’t eat that much, Dean. I’m on a diet.”

“Today I’ve seen you have three cups of coffee, a banana, and half of a small piece of chicken and a few brussel sprouts. You need to eat.”

“I need to lose weight.”

“For what?”

“I’m overweight.”

“Because a little stupid calculator online said so? So another stupid little calculator tells you how much food you’re allowed a day? But maybe you’re having a bad day so you tell yourself you don’t deserve to have even all of that already restricted food? So you make it even smaller to the point of, hm, what’s that word, disordered eating?”

You stared down at your lap and heard him get up, sliding into the booth beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you looked out the window.

“I do need to lose weight Dean. It’s true. I’m not supposed to be this big.”

“What are you supposed to be then?”

“Like that waitress. She’s small and thin. She’s healthy.”

“I see,” he said. She was working behind the counter, no one else in the place aside from a man at the other end and the cook. “Excuse me miss?”

She popped her head up and walked over with a tired smile.

“Can we get another bacon cheeseburger? And a big bowl of that ice cream sundae?” he asked.

“You got it,” she said, writing it down.

“One more thing,” said Dean. “Do you like the way you look?”

“Excuse me?” she said.

“Dean, shut up,” you said. “Please ignore him.”

“I mean, are you happy with your body? Do you eat whatever you want, wear whatever you want, never worry a second about what goes in it or how it looks? You’re a beautiful woman but what do you actually think of yourself?”

She was quiet for a few moments before she noticed the swapped plates in front of you.

“You know when you first asked that, I thought, you were being creepy. I get creepy guys in here a lot late at night. The cook is a big guy but it happens. I know I’m small. I wish I was stronger. I wish I looked like she does. I’m something that looks like they’d snap in the wind. She’s strong and has an ass and curves. She’s not a rectangle with no curves or chest. She doesn’t look like a guy. I wish I wasn’t so delicate but I don’t think I can change that much.”

“Probably not so much,” said Dean. “But I hear weight training is good for muscle building. Creeps are always creeps but might help to be able to deck ‘em.”

“Yeah. I’ll go put that order in for you guys,” she said with a smile. Dean turned his head back to you after she went through the double doors.

“Funny. You want her body. She wants yours,” he said. 

“She doesn’t know I’m overweight.”

“She doesn’t know how damn strong you are. Her body? She was right. She is delicate and it’d be a safe idea for her to put on some muscle given her job. You though? You I’ll worry to death over no matter what. But you’re missing the most glaring thing of all.”

“What?”

“You just said she doesn’t know you’re overweight. She doesn’t know how much you weigh. If she doesn’t know how does anyone know? Why does a number on a scale matter? Health does, don’t get me wrong, but care more about what your body can do than what size pants you fit in. It’s all bullshit anyways. You can be a small one place or a triple XL somewhere else. You can have a normal chest but be told it’s too big or too small by a different brand. I just don’t want to see you going down a path towards something worse where you’re hurting yourself.”

“I’d never hurt myself, Dean.”

“If your body is hungry and you don’t feed it, you’re hurting it. I’m talking about you’re cold, you’re starving, you have no energy, you feel like crap. But you won’t eat, not until it gets a little worse because you think you can take it because you’ve taken it before. That’s hurting yourself and you hurt yourself a lot sweetheart.”

You looked down and swallowed, taking a deep breath.

“I’m really cold right now,” you said quietly. “I’m tired of always being so fucking cold.”

“Eat,” he said, tugging his plate closer to you. “I’ll order you some soup too. That’ll warm you up.”

He took off his jacket and wrapped it over your shoulders. He kissed your cheek and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’ve been like this for years, Dean. I don’t know how people eat normally anymore.”

“I know. You probably fucked up your metabolism but we can unfuck it up too. You can be healthy but this, this isn’t healthy. I’ll do it with you but you gotta promise me you won’t starve yourself anymore.”

“I’ll try,” you said.

“I’ll take trying to start with,” he said. “I’m gonna order that soup. Eat up for me sweetheart. You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

One Month Later

“Y/N!” shouted Dean from the kitchen as you walked past. “You eat lunch yet?”

“No,” you said. 

“Are you hungry?”

“A little. I was waiting for you to get done with Baby,” you said.

“What’d you eat so far?” he asked.

“I had a cup of coffee and a protein bar and for lunch I’m having one of those greek wraps I like,” you said. “Satisfied?”

“I’d prefer if you had two wraps or a wrap and snack with it,” he said. You grumbled and he sighed. “Y/N. You said I could take the lead on this.”

“I’m gaining weight,” you said.

“Yeah cause you aren’t eating what a toddler does in a day anymore which is perfectly healthy for a grown woman. I know it’s only been a month but you have so much more energy, you sleep better, you have less nightmares. Your skin looks amazing. So gain a few pounds, gain more than a few, let’s fix your metabolism and then we’ll start working out a little and we’re not gonna give a fuck how much we weigh at all and we’re gonna be the hottest fucking couple in this neighborhood I swear.”

“I like not feeling cold anymore,” you said with a small smile, Dean walking over and rubbing your arms. “It’s just...hard sometimes to not...wait to eat until your stomach hurts from no food. I’m figuring out what being hungry is again.”

“It’s gonna take some time but your body will learn again. We just gotta be extra nice to it right now while it recovers,” he said. “And then we’ll always be nice to it, right?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I promise.”

“So, one wrap or two?” he asked, opening the fridge.

“One. I’ll save the other for tomorrow. But maybe I’ll have some pita chips and hummus with it?” you asked.

“That sounds yummy,” he said. “I think I’ll have that myself.”

“You don’t have to eat my diet Dean,” you said.

“I could do with being nicer to my own body myself,” he said. “After lunch do you want to go for a walk? I have a sneaking suspicion the couple three blocks over are a pair of vamps.”

“That’s the guy with the skin condition, babe,” you said.

“Are you sure cause he got like a weird rash that one time.”

“It’s a condition,” you said with a smile. “But I would love to go for a walk with you while the day is still nice.”

“Sounds like a plan sweetheart,” he said, starting to take food out of the fridge. You walked over and gave him a hug from behind. 

“Thanks for saying something. Even if I tried pretending I was fine.”

“You’d do the same for me,” he said. “Come on, cutie. Let’s get some grub. I’m starving.”

________

[danses-with-dogmeat]

I'm feeling a little melancholy at the moment, how would Hancock comfort/cheer up a lady sole survivor who is feeling down in the dumps? This can be a headcanon or a drabble, whichever your muse wishes to write and it's a romantic Hancock who's pining for the sole. Both have low self-esteem and sole is shy. Thank you in advance!

Thank you so much for the ask, anon! I love this prompt, and I think I’m going to do headcannons for all the companions based on it at some point, but for now, here is a drabble! Hopefully this is the kinda thing you were looking for, I think I might’ve gotten a little carried away, but I hope you enjoy!

Hancock surveyed his bar, looking over the patrons, and back up to Magnolia as she began her rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night,” and the ghoul's smokey gaze once again fell to the seat in the corner of the Third Rail. 

She was there, nursing an iced beverage in her hand; the amber liquid appearing to be whiskey.

"Tell me Fahrenheit, do people drink whiskey when they're happy?" He turned to the redhead lounging on the couch beside him.

"Depends how much." She stared ahead, absentmindedly swirling the gin and tonic in her hand.

"Three or four glasses in the last hour." He said. She followed his gaze to where it rested, rolling her eyes at him.

"You've been staring at her for the past hour? Tell me, why haven’t you gone over there yet? I know you enjoy a healthy dose of masochism every once in a while, but the self-induced suffering seems pretty constant whenever she’s involved.” Fahrenheit gestured with her glass towards the corner by the bar, where Sole was seated, already close to being finished with her beverage.

“Always so quick to judge. Sole’s a popular gal, I thought she might be waiting for someone. If that was the case, then who am I to-”

“Ugh, if you don’t get your ass over there and talk to her, I’m locking you out of the State House.” Hancock’s hat tipped forward as his gaze migrated to the floor of the bar.

Fahrenheit shifted to sit up from her lounging position. “Alright, what the hell is it with this chick? It’s like she turns you into that kid on the radio. All scared and awkward.”

“I know. Listen, I don’t know what it is either. She’s just… different. I actually give a shit about what she thinks of me, you know? And I don’t wanna lose her as a friend because I was coming onto her too strong.”

“I think you’re just being a pussy about having real feelings for someone.”

“Shit, red, that’s cold. Even for you.” At that, Hancock pushed his hat back to its correct position on his head and stood, rolling his shoulders as he prepared to face the person he had “real” feelings for.

“Fine,” he turned to glance back at Fahrenheit one more time, “You win. But if this goes south, I’m holding you responsible.” He turned and started towards the bar.

“And what it if it goes north?” Fahrenheit called after him, uttering a soft chuckle as he walked away. 

Hancock noticed Sole’s eyes fall on him as he approached the bar and tried not to be too obvious as he ordered another whiskey on ice for her, and one for himself. He was still coming off a mentats high, but he needed something to take the edge off. Grabbing the drinks, he turned deliberately to her.

“How you holdin’ up, sister? You looked a little low there.” He gestured at her now empty glass, reaching out to hand her the new drink.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” She said, smiling weakly at him as she took it.

“That seat taken?”

She looked to her left and shook her head.

“All yours, if you want.”

“Course I do, who wouldn’t wanna sit next to a lovely little thing like you?” She let out a feeble chuckle at his words, and the ridge above his eyes knitted together as he noticed the lack of light behind her eyes as she stared down at the floor.

He took a swig of his whiskey, draining half of his glass in one gulp. Sole looked over and drew her own glass to her lips, grimacing slightly at the bite of the whiskey. The two sat in silence for a bit, listening as Magnolia’s song came to an end and the conversations around the bar grew to a dull roar. 

“Sorry I’m not better company, Hancock.” She uttered quietly. 

“Nonsense. I could sit silently beside you all night, and you’d still be better company than half the commonwealth. But hey, if you wanna talk about it, I know it doesn’t look like it, but I got two good ears over here.” She laughed a little more genuinely at that, and Hancock felt a little flutter in his chest.

“Thanks, but really it’s- Okay, it’s just… nothing.”

“Hmm. Yeah, seems like it. Real convincing there, sister.” She finally looked up to meet his gaze. “C’mon, Sole,” he whispered softly, “it’s okay, you can tell me. After all I done, you think I’m in any position to judge you?” Sole looked away and downed her drink, before placing her fifth empty glass on the table beside the others. He drained the remainder of his own beverage in response, hoping the gesture might help settle her nerves a bit.

Sole took a deep, shaky breath. 

“It’s not… something.” She stopped, looking at him with desperation behind her eyes, willing him to understand without her having to say it. Hancock was many, many things, and he would become almost anything if it meant pleasing Sole, but he wasn’t a mind reader. Instead, he smiled at her and nodded for her to continue.

“It’s… God, it’s just everything. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I used to feel like I had made it so far. When I saw the world after leaving that vault, I just, I don’t know, I just adapted. I moved on and I survived. Even when I learned that 200 years had passed, and I realized that everyone I ever knew was dead, I persisted. I pushed through. I was sad, of course, but at least I could function. Then, when I found out about Shaun and the Institute, when I saw him and... and he was older than me, when I found out how he felt about me, the way he saw me as nothing more than an experiment, I just…” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, punctuating the end of her sentence. No words were needed now, he understood. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, to let her know she wasn’t alone, that he was here for her, and would be as long as he was living. Instead, he reached a scarred hand towards her own that rested on the arm of her chair. She shuddered slightly as his fingers made contact with the back of her hand, and he was afraid she would pull away. But she just dropped her gaze to watch as he settled his hand atop hers, his thumb gently stroking over her knuckles.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re goin’ through, Sole.” He said, his dark eyes meeting hers, “But no matter what, I’m here for you. Anything you need, it’s yours, you hear?” She sniffled slightly, and Hancock thought he heard a soft “thanks,” but he couldn’t be sure.

“You remember the day we met?” He said, his thumb still brushing softly over her hand.

“How could I forget? You killed a guy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I sure did, heh.”

“What was his name again?” She asked him, a little bit of life returning to her strained voice.

“Finn.”

“Oh yeah, I remember now.”

“Yeah, real jackass, he was.” Sole grinned at that, and Hancock's eyes lit up, reveling in the fact that his words managed to bring a smile to her face, meager as it may be, it beat tears any day.

“You remember why I killed him?” He asked her.

“Cuz he was a jackass?” The ghoul chuckled at that, his hand squeezing hers ever so slightly.

“Close, but that’s not all of it. He was a jackass to you, sweetheart. And that didn’t sit right with me, even then.” Her eyes met his as she began to understand where he was going with this.

“But lemme tell you something, how I cared then? Shit’s nothing compared to how I care now.” He whispered the last sentence, leaning in closer to her. Hancock willed himself to say more, to tell her how much he cared for her, tell her everything he would do for her, he wanted to make a move to hold her hand tighter, or to lean into her even further, to eliminate the gap between them altogether, but he was paralyzed by her unbroken gaze.

“You mean it?” She whispered so softly, he almost didn’t hear it over the buzz of the bar.

“You kiddin’? Every damn word. And just for the record, there’s nothing wrong with the way you’re feeling right now, Sole. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and if anybody else went through the shit that you have, they wouldn’t have made it through day one. But you? You haven’t just survived out here, you’ve made a difference. You didn’t have to, background like yours, you coulda become a fuckin raider or crime boss or some shit and I wouldn’t have blamed you, but no. Here you go, one-upping everyone else who thought they had a tragic backstory and becoming the best damn person in the Commonwealth. Really ruins it for the rest of us rabble, you know.” Sole’s eyebrows creased together and her eyes began to glisten again as tears threatened to spill over. Shit. What did I say? Hancock’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried desperately to think of a way to undo whatever he just did. That feeling soon vanished as Sole fell forward, arms draping around Hancock’s shoulders, as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. He released the breath he had been holding and brought his own arms around to envelop her, squeezing tightly as warmth spread through the expanse of his chest.

“Thank you.” She whispered softly. And Hancock was sure he’d heard it this time.

[nightingaelic]

Companions react to the Courier doing the Infinite Money Glitch in casinos.

I had to look this up, OP, and then I had to conceptualize how this would even work in a storytelling context and write it, anyway I hope you're pleased with yourself because my brain feels like a stack of used sandpaper sheets

The courier had been saving up caps for a while, stashing them in odd places around the Lucky 38. Everywhere you looked there were bottle caps: Dresser drawers in the Presidential Suite, empty ice buckets in the cocktail lounge, in jars on every shelf in the penthouse. Saving up caps for big purchases was pretty common behavior in the Mojave wasteland for anyone, so no one batted an eye when the courier assembled all of the stashes on the carpeted floor of the casino and started counting them out, checking six times before stringing them together in batches of 50 and writing down the final total: 32,768.

No, no one so much as blinked when they lugged all 656 strings of caps out the door of the Lucky 38. No one, that is, except the lucky soul who went with them, saw them exchange all the caps for chips at The Tops Casino, then drop the chips in the back of The Aces theater during Bruce Isaac's set and return to the cashier to collect triple the amount of money they walked in with.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade cringed as the courier struggled to drag the haul of caps out the door of The Tops. The jingle of the cap strings was attracting the attention of just about everyone on the Strip, and someone across the street yelled "High roller!"

"This can't be legal," Arcade said.

"Since when..." the courier huffed and puffed, throwing cap strings over their shoulder carelessly, "... do you give a mole rat's ass about legality?"

"What is this?!?" Arcade hissed incredulously, gesturing to the jingling pile. "Is that cashier paying you off? Are those chips the currency for some wasteland tribe I've never heard of, but somehow have a better exchange rate than the NCR does? Did I just witness a payout for a hit on someone?"

The courier sighed and paused to pat the scientist on the shoulder. "Just don't think about it too hard, okay? Now help me out with this, we're going to Doctor Usanagi's to get me tricked out with as many implants as she has on hand."

Craig Boone: While the courier jingled their way across the Strip asphalt, Boone couldn't help noticing the number of eyes turning their way to stare at the enormous payout they were openly carrying. New Vegas was already a town that kept on trucking if its very creator was killed, that was certain: It wouldn't even pause if its latest mastermind was gunned down over a fortune in steel and aluminum crowns. Boone clutched his rifle close and met as many of the curious and envious stares as he could, his own eyes burning protectively behind his sunglasses.

They managed to get all the way back to the Lucky 38 before the courier stopped and spoke to him. "Nothing? Not even a guess about what this is from?"

Boone shrugged. "None of my business. Just don't carry it all at once again. Ever."

Lily Bowen: "Did you win, dearie?" Lily asked, confused. As far as she had noticed, the courier hadn't approached any of the blackjack tables, roulette wheels or slot machines.

"Yeah, Lily." The courier grinned and started handing her strings of caps to carry. "What do you want to spend your winnings on?"

"My winnings?" Lily shook her head. "Now now, pumpkin. You won fair and square, so you get to choose what you buy."

"My treat," the courier insisted. "Anything at all. We could go to the Gourmand for dinner, we could donate to the Followers in Freeside, we could get singing and dancing lessons from the King... what do you want?"

Lily thought for a moment, wracking her brains. "Brahmin for Jacobstown."

The courier looked at her quizzically. "Brahmin? Not bighorners?"

"Brahmin," Lily confirmed, shouldering the strings upon strings of caps. "Bighorners at Jacobstown will make more bighorners, but they have no brahmin. Brahmin are sweet, easier to handle. But no one will sell brahmin to nightkin."

"Okay." The courier nodded. "Then we have to go to the Gourmand for dinner anyway. I know a guy at the Ultra-Luxe who might help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Dios mío," Raul muttered under his breath. "Who did you kill for the Chairmen? They finally paying you back for getting rid of Benny?"

"Pfft." The courier waved him off, dropping a few strings of caps as they did. "Whoops. Help me out here, and I'll buy you a drink."

"A drink?" Raul laughed. "Not the whole bar? You could probably convince the Garret twins to retire if you gave them half of this haul."

"And why the hell would I want to take over the Atomic Wrangler?" The courier shook their head as they loaded the old ghoul up with caps. "I already have one casino I'm incapable of running. The only customers I get are you and the other Mojave misfits."

Raul grinned. "Hey, you invited us in, amigo. We're just the only ones loco enough to ignore the robots and take you up on it."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Oh, sweet squirrel stew." Cass' eyes were as big as the dinner plates in the casino's restaurant. "That's enough change to buy the Van Graffs out of business. That's enough change to tell Alice McLafferty to stick it where the sun don't shine, then back it up with enough muscle to scare her out of the Mojave."

The courier nodded and started handing her strings of caps. "It is also enough change to start funding her competitors and drive her out of New Vegas."

"Now you're talkin'." Cass smirked and accepted the extra weight. "So who're we gonna back? Far Go? The Water Merchants? Gun Runners?"

"Actually..." the courier smiled. "A little birdie told me that the Mojave Express is looking to expand its horizons. Start offering goods in addition to services. And you know me, I like to root for the home team when I can."

Cass laughed. "Well that's a surprise. You plannin' on playin' courier again? Get yourself shot in the head a second time?"

"Not if I can help it."

Veronica Santangelo: "Uhhhh, Six?" Veronica crossed her arms. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to stir up trouble for a bit after the adventure at the dam. This screams 'trouble' to me."

"Aw, lighten up Veronica." The courier winked at her and handed her a string of caps, like a consolation prize. "We're in a casino. The odds aren't in your favor, but at least you can have fun for a bit."

Veronica turned the offering down. "Math may not have been my strongest subject when I was in school, but I do know that 30,000 minus 30,000 does not equal 90,000, under any normal odds. What are you getting yourself- and more importantly, me- into?"

The courier sighed. "It's nothing. Just a little loophole I discovered when I was poking around after Benny's disappearance. I promise, we're not going to get knifed, unless we get waylaid in the street on the way home because I'm too weighed down to move."

Veronica narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I don't trust this," she said after a few beats, "But I'm also not keen to see you try to fight off a mugger while buried under all those caps. Give me some of that."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped, confused, when the courier stopped it from picking up the chips again. Its beeps increased in volume and frequency as they loaded the little bot up with caps at the cashier's counter, until it was hanging low in the air and having trouble turning around from the increased weight. The courier patted its metal dome reassuringly and loaded up the rest of the haul on themselves, until each step they took sounded like a cascade of sleigh bells.

"Back to the Lucky 38," the courier said, pointing toward the casino door. "I've got a bet I need to settle with Raul."

Rex: Rex whined as the courier hung strings of caps off his back. He sniffed each new addition but stood tall on his metal legs, taking the extra weight admirably until he was virtually buried by the wasteland currency.

"Can you still walk, boy?" the courier asked, when they had lightened their own load.

Rex barked. Satisfied, the courier led the way to the exit, opening the casino door with a jingle and ignoring the strange looks they were getting. The two waddled their way to the Strip's main gate and down the main street of Freeside until they staggered into the King's School of Impersonation.

The King, who had been lounging inside the stage room, jumped up when he saw the pair. "Well ain't that some money, honey," he said, clearly delighted. "You actually went and did it."

"Yep." The courier dropped some strings of caps on the nearest table and leaned over it to rest. "There it is. Now, where do we get started on fixing up Freeside?"

[pumpkinov]

Where the Dust Settles

I will probably move this to Ao3 when I have a way more solid idea of my plot, but for now, it goes here. Mostly so I don’t lose it.

Portia Collins, the sole survivor of Vault 111 has lost more than most. With the Institute defeated, she sets her sights to the next big jobs - unification of the Commonwealth wastelands and the large warship docked at the Boston Airport. More work for the General of the Minutemen, who is finding herself increasingly alone as her companions move on with their lives. John Hancock, the Ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbour is struggling to find his footing in the new political climate of the Commonwealth, and is finding a surprisingly vocal supporter in his local Minuteman General. 

 Chapter 1. Why do you only call me when you’re high?

Portia observed the Third Rail with a headache forming. Her and Preston had arrived around midday, greeted by Fahrenheit. The relationship forming between the Commonwealth Minuteman and the settlement of Goodneighbour was a point of pride for the General. They were welcomed warmly, and their brief meeting with the Ghoul Mayor who ran the town had been pleasant, if frustratingly shortlived. But as the weather soured, most of the town had gathered in the bar. And it was cramped.

Ensuring that Preston was indeed distracted by Magnolia, Portia slid a cigarette out of a pack someone left on the table and headed to the door, abandoning her coat for the sake of an unobserved getaway. She nodded at Ham as she headed up the stairs, and slipped out the door.

She instantly regretted leaving her coat behind, the wind was frigid and there were clumps of watery snow on the ground. She could see her breath as she dug around in her pockets for a lighter. She came up empty, and was about to head back inside, defeated, when a weight hit the wall next to her. Hancock twisted the wheel of his lighter and held it in front of her, rolling his cigarette between his thin lips as Portia drew the smoke into her lungs.

He lit his cigarette, and flicked the lighter closed, sliding it into his jacket in a movement so fluid it had to be practiced. They smoked in companionable silence for a moment, Portia leaning her head against the brick wall. She eventually rolled her head to the side, fixing her eyes on her silent companion. His face in the portrait was familiar now, dark eyes, noseless and scarred.

“I wish you’d change your mind about joining us in Diamond City.” She commented. “You’re the only leader of a settlement not coming. And the Minutemen could use you.”

He slid her a look, a smirk twisting across his face, “There’s not enough caps in the whole Commonwealth that would convince me to go inside the Great Green Jewel again.”

“Nothing could convince you?”

His eyes slid down her frame, and the smirk widened “I’m sure something could.”

Portia rolled her eyes, and elbowed him. He laughed roughly, and took another deep drag of his cigarette. “Besides Sunshine, I’ve already built my personality around one hat. I don’t think even a ghoul with my kind of charisma could make those minuteman specials work.”

Portia smiled around her cigarette for a moment, “Don’t let Preston hear you say that. He’s very proud of his hat.”

“And yet the General doesn’t wear one.” Hancock breathed a plume of smoke out, tendrils escaping through his exposed naval cavity.

Portia didn’t reply, just smiled and watched a handful of small snowflakes begin to fall around the streetlight. Another freezing night.

“Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t come to this meeting in Diamond City.” She said, flexing the fingers that weren’t clamped around her cigarette. Her fingertips were turning red. “I’ve seen your diplomacy in action, Mayor. I’ve stepped over the dead body of your diplomacy.”

He laughed deep in his throat at the comment. “Don’t flatter yourself General, Finn was on thin fucking ice before he decided to shake you down. I didn’t stab a man for a woman I’d just met.” He finally turned his head to meet her gaze, his black eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, smugly. “I’d strongly consider stabbing a man for you now, given the right incentives.”

Portia took her final drag of her cigarette, and dropped it onto the ground, crushing it beneath her heel. She looked back at Hancock, and breathed her final lung full of smoke out.

“Let me guess, Mayor Hancock, would that incentive happen to be wildly inappropriate?”

His eyes flashed. “Not wildly. Perhaps not for polite company.”

Portia rolled her eyes again, and stuffed both her hands under her armpits. She glanced back at the metal door leading into the Third Rail. She really wasn’t ready to return back to that crowd yet. Hancock seemed to sense her hesitation, he tucked his hand back into his jacket and produced another cigarette. She accepted it, stamping her feet a little to get warm.

“Is there any polite company in Goodneighbour?” She busied herself with lighting the cigarette with Hancock’s proffered lighter, waiting for his usual flirtatious quip. Instead, when she looked up to return his lighter, she saw him watching as Daisy appeared around the corner, wrapped in a scarf and jacket.

“There’s some.” He said quietly.  Portia hummed in agreement, waving as Daisy approached.

“Quittin’ time?” Hancock asked her, offering Daisy his arm. “Would you do me the honour of letting me buy you a drink?”

“John Hancock I’ve told you a million times, I’m too old for you.” Daisy laughed. He groaned in response, placing his free hand across his heart, closing his eyes dramatically.

“And I’ll keep asking, let a ghoul dream!” He pitched his cigarette butt and opened the door for her with a flourish, then glanced back up at Portia. “Same again?”

“Mayor Hancock I told you, we can’t be out late, Preston and I are due in Diamond City early in the morning.”

He grinned at her. “So, same again?”

“Hancock!” Portia smiled despite herself. “This happens every time! I’ll take a bourbon and Nuka.”

“For Pete’s sake Hancock!” Ham called, “In or out man, the wind is friggin’ freezing!”

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses!” Hancock called through the door, before looking back at her.

The playful, flirtatious grin he usually held was gone. His face was serious, his eyes still. Portia felt her stomach lurch up as she recognised the look as straight lust. She stared back at him, heart all of a sudden pounding in her throat. She snaked her tongue out, to wet her all of a sudden dry lips. Hancock’s gaze dropped to her lips for a moment, before catching himself. He pulled the smirk back, but his eyes kept their intensity.

“I’ll give you a second alone.” He rasped, “feels like you might not get much of that these days, General.”

Despite the heat rising from her core, Portia grabbed ahold of herself, and smiled.  “Bourbon and Nuka, remember?”

Hancock nodded and closed to the door, leaving her to the whirling wind, and her thoughts.

She crushed the half finished cigarette beneath her heel and headed back into the crowded bar, finally defeated by the snow now lightly falling. Preston was at the bar, talking animatedly with Magnolia. The place was crowded, and she had to squish herself past several people. They all turned and stared at her as she passed, and the heat was rising in her face again. Portia never quite felt comfortable in crowds like this. She finally reached Preston, who turned and beamed at her. “General, did you need a drink?”

“No, thank you, I think the Mayor -” She was interrupted as Whitechapel Charlie slid a glass of bourbon and nuka in front of her. “Oh, thank you.” She wrapped her fingers around the glass, and swirled the liquid around.

“I’m just going to freshen up” Magnolia drawled, draping an arm across Preston’s shoulder’s as she rose from her stool. “Don’t go anywhere.” She drifted off in a cloud of perfume, leaving a rather dazed minuteman in her wake.

“You still in there Garvey?” Portia smiled against the glass as she sipped her drink. God bourbon was so sweet. She didn’t really know why she drank it.

He smiled rather bashfully, shaking his head. “She’s really one hell of a woman.”

“Yeah, she has that effect on people,’ Portia dropped her hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to turn in after I finish this - do you need anything else before I go?”

“You won’t stay until she finishes singing?”

“No, I’m beat.” She took another mouthful, just trying to get rid of it now. “But you stay out, just don’t be too hungover for our council meeting tomorrow.”

He grinned at her, “you really don’t trust me, do you General?”

“Preston,” Portia fixed her eyes on her friend, raising an eyebrow, “I trust you to the ends of the earth. I would walk through fire for you. I would, and have, trusted you with my life. But I do not trust you not to get carried away drinking with a pretty woman.”

He laughed out loud at that, wrapping his hand around the neck of his beer bottle as he threw his head back. “Honestly, probably a wise choice.” His eyes sparkled a little under the light. There was a joy she hadn’t seen on his face … ever.  Preston had been by her side every step of the way, from the day she thawed out to now. He’d helped her find her son, and destroy her son. He’d helped her mourn her husband, and helped her survive in this new, strange world. Portia would sooner have set herself on fire than quash the happy, slightly drunken glow he was developing across his face.

“Have fun, Preston.” She squeezed his shoulder and moved away, taking a large mouthful and wincing as the far too sweet alcohol burned her tongue. God, why did she always ask for Bourbon, she fucking hated bourbon.

She reached the coat racks at the back of the bar, and started looking for her coat. She drained the last swallow of her glass, and without looking plonked it down on the nearest table.

“Sneaking out without saying goodbye, General?” A familiar rasp came from her left. Portia bit her lip, and pulled her attention away from the overstacked rack of coats. “As if anyone could leave without saying goodbye to you, Mayor.” Hancock was leaning against a chair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, grinning like he always did.  “Do you need another drink?”

“No, thank you but I have to go.” She finally spotted her coat, and yanked it out of the tangled mass of fabric. She slipped it on over her shirt, and turned to face him. “Thank you, though. For meeting us, and hearing us out.”

His eyes softened a little. “I appreciate the invitation General. What you and the Minutemen are doing is impressive, joining the Commonwealth together like this. But I can’t go back there.”

Portia tightened her jacket around her, as Hancock swallowed the last of his drink and straightened up. “Come on, I’ll walk to you to the Rexford.”

“You don’t have to -”

He cut her off, offering her his arm. “It’s part of the Goodneighbour hospitality.”

The soft snow was swirling in the wind now, and Portia braced herself against the chill. It seemed to have no effect on Hancock, whose arm she clung to. He was so warm, even through the fabric of his jacket. Portia had to admit it was pleasant - the square was completely empty except for two of the neighbourhood watch, who nodded at them as they passed. The fresh air was refreshing after the stale smoke and beer they’d been breathing at the Third Rail. They reached the doors of the Rexford, and Portia turned to face him.

“Last chance, Mayor.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes as the wind whipped his jacket around his legs. “Are you sure you won’t come with Preston and I to Diamond City for this meeting? Every settlement group is sending a representative. It’s important.”

The wind had picked up now, and she had to lean in closer to him to hear his response.

“General, you really keep pushing this. Are you sure you don’t just want my company?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile bubbling to the surface despite her annoyance. “Hancock, really. Goodneighbour deserves a voice. Your people deserve a voice. You deserve to be there. If you’re not there, then Goodneighbour; your people? They stay disconnected from the rest of the Commonwealth.”

He fixed his eyes on her for a moment. “You really want to have me in Diamond City?”

She touched one of the buttons on his jacket, just needing a moment without his strange, black eyes boring into her. “It’s only fair, after everything.”

He shifted slightly closer, and her skin prickled. “OK, fine. I’ll come.”

She glanced up at him, a smile breaking across her face. “Excellent-”

“But,” he interrupted, his face still serious. “I will not be coming as part of your Minutemen. I respect your organisation General, but Goodneighbour is for the people, by the people, and I will not come shackled to your cowboy hats and holier-than-thou ideologies.”

She blinked, a little taken aback at the roughness under his usual rasp. “Of course, Mayor. The only shackles will be ones you attach yourself.”

A smile spread across his face at that comment, and Portia cursed herself. She shouldn’t have said that. It was just very hard not to flirt with him, despite his radiation ravaged face.

“I feel like the Minutemen and I may have very different ideas on the best use of shackles,” he murmured, now reaching a hand up to brush against the fingers she’d left on his button. His hands were so warm, and she resisted the urge to melt into his touch.

“Sorry to disappoint Mayor, but I leave the shackling to Preston.” She desperately tried to wheel it in, the air was too intimate now.

He was still looking at her, his eyes hungry. He moved to kiss her, and Portia put a hand against his chest. He stopped, still smiling down at her. The heat coming from him was insane, her fingers spread against his chest.

“Mayor, I don’t mix business with, well, thirty seconds of staring at the ceiling.”

He tilted his head back and laughed at this, heartily. It eventually turned into a cough which took a few seconds to get under control. When he finally regained composure and looked back down at her, there were tears in his eyes. “Oh, Christ Sunshine.” His tone was of amusement, he seemed completely unfazed at her rejection. “I only do business with pleasure. As for ceiling staring, it’s not something I’ve personally experienced, but I’m sure I could find some referrals if you’re concerned.” He wrapped his hand around her wrist, lifted it to his mouth and pressed his lips against the back of her hand; before stepping away from her. The cold wind rushed in to fill the spot where he’d stood, and Portia felt a chill wrap across her.

“Goodnight, General.” Hancock slid a cigarette into his mouth, and turned around. Portia called out to him as he disappeared towards the Third Rail.

“See you in the morning, Mayor!”

There was no way he’d show.

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

GHOST BC x Very Real Fears

These are their serious long term soul deep fears. 

Papa I: Being forgotten. This old man has always lived in the shadow of his narcissistic father from the moment he was born, and he’s been afraid his whole life that before he can really make a legacy for himself, his brothers will have overtaken him. He’s worried that he missed his chance at being the best Papa he could be, and now he’s only the first in a growing list of rulers, all better than him in some regard. It weighs on his mind pretty heavily, but he’d never dare tell anyone lest they think that makes him weaker or a lesser Papa for it. He’s worried that in a few Papas, maybe sooner than we think, he’ll be forgotten about. That he will be erased all together.

Papa II: Always being in his older brothers shadow. He’s picked up on how Papa I feels about himself and his ruling, but disagrees entirely. This man is horrified of never being able to live up to the standard his older brother has set for what it truly means to be a Papa. To rule with an iron fist, be diplomatic, and always make the right decision for the good of the church and it’s people. He doesn’t think about this often, but when he gets from from a long day at the church, and turns off all the lights except for a lamp by his favorite chair, he sits and wonders. The weight of his insignificance bears greatly on him, too much even to distract himself, until he falls asleep. He doesn’t let this happen often.

Papa III: His greatest fear is similar to that of his older brother: never being good enough. He knows he’s not like his siblings in the way that he has no real desire to be a feared leader. He knows that’s not who he is and never will be, but he’s always worried that rather embrace his differences, his family and the church would outcast him. He’s the youngest, and rather be babied as they usually are, he’s been almost entirely forgotten. He spends so much time worrying that he’s fucking up his Papacy that sometimes he forgoes it altogether and leaves for the day. The stress wears on him, but people will assume or he’ll tell them it’s just that he didn’t want to or didn’t care. The trouble is that he cares too much.

Copia: Our Cardinal’s biggest fear is failiure. He works so hard to prove himself every day. He also resents Papa III not only for being a Papa at all, but for being given his title by birth right, and making a mockery of all he was supposed to stand for. He knows Sister put his faith in him to become the next Papa, and stuck her neck out to Nihil on his behalf, so failure also means letting both of them down, which just isn’t an option to him. Copia has no plan b, no other options except for success and a new title.

Aether: The leader ghoul’s biggest fear is not being needed. He lives to take care of the ghouls, and make the plans, and keep things together. He doesn’t know his place without taking care of his friends and making sure it runs smoothly, and if they all just up and decided they can take care of themselves one day I think he’d be distraught. Chasing after Dew, taking care of Rain, dragging Mountain along, summoning the Ghoulettes, and reigning in Swiss is what he does, and no one could do it better. He’s also worried that if something were to happen to him, there would be no one to do his job, and that part scares him a little too much to think about.

Dew: The Stomp Goblins biggest fear is being ordinary. He knows he’d never be satisfied with anything less than a life filled with chaotic adventure, and he doesn’t want to be 200 years olds, bored, sitting in a rocking chair, thinking of all the fun he missed out on. But more than that, he’s terrified that the feral energy he emits is the only thing interesting enough about him to keep his friends around. He causes problems on purpose because he’s worried that when the dust settles his friends won’t love him for who he was underneath.

Swiss: He’s always so confident, and usually gets what he wants. He just knows how, and it comes pretty easy. His greatest fear is rejection. He’s always been pretty quick to assimilate to a new group, quick to make new friends, and been the first person to break the ice and get the ball rolling in a group of total strangers. He’s terrified that one day everything he normally does won’t work and rather than watch the outcasts, he’ll become one. Sitting on the outside looking in feels like a distant and cold way to live for him, when the in is so warm and loud and fun. Like hearing a party your neighbor is having while you’re making dinner for one and listening with half an ear to the radio. It’s just not nearly as good. He’s also all too used to walking up to anyone he finds attractive in a bar and making quick work of getting their number or even getting them home, so for him to walk into a room and expend every tactic and strategy he has for getting laid or at least being noticed and come up short, is almost unfathomable.

Rain: It’s no secret that Rain’s chemistry in the group wasn’t immediate. He’s a big on the shy side and it took him a while to warm up to everyone. While he’s definitely come out of his shell since his first ritual, the residual feelings of awkwardness are the root of his fear. He’s terrified that he may never truly fit in with the rest of the ghouls. From his perspective the connection the others have is deep and effortless. No matter how often the others reassure him that they love him, the thought that he may never really be one of them still keeps him up at night.

Mountain: Earth ghouls are admired for their quiet strength and stability, but many forget that for an earth ghoul to thrive they must also be given the freedom to change. Mountains biggest fear is confinement, both physical and emotional. He hates to feel restrained by anything, and is a firm believer that even moving backwards is better than not moving at all. For mountain stagnation is a fate worse than death.

Cirrus and Cumulus: The ghoulettes are both afraid of not being taken seriously. They’re off on their own section of the stage during rituals, they’re so often left out of group art or stories, and as the only women of the group it was difficult for them to find their space amongst the boys. They worked so hard to earn their place in the group, but they can’t shake the sensation that they’ll always have to be twice as good as everyone else for half the respect. At least they can always count on each other for support and understand when the fear feels like too much.