#Bud Cooper imagine

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My You-niverse: Bud Cooper

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Bud Cooper x F!Reader, throughout the series: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

Warning: a bit of period typical sexism, reader is pregnant

Series Masterlist

When you kick the blankets off you, your eyes widento see your round belly. Oh shit. Oh fuck. You were pregnant.

Not Marc notices you just sitting there and came back to you with concern, "You okay? Is the baby okay?" He kneels down and gently presses a hand to your stomach, "You okay, princess? You giving mommy some trouble this morning?"

"We're having a girl?" you ask in disbelief.

Not Marc's brows furrow, "Yeah. We found out weeks ago, remember?" he reaches up and places the back of his hand to your forehead, "You're not feeling warm. Do you feel dizzy or anything?"

You shake your head, "No. No, it's-I had a weird dream. I suppose I'm just trying to make sure this isn't another one."

Your supposed husband shakes his head, "It's not, honey. I'm here," he cups your face, love in his eyes, "The baby and I are here. We're real."

You nod, "Yeah, yeah, okay."

He wasn't comforted by your answer so he stands with a grunt, "I'm calling out of work today."

"No, no, love, it's okay. I promise."

"I just want to make sure that nothing happens to you two, okay?"

Not Marc walks over to the phone on the nightstand and dials a number. He asks the phone operator to direct his call to his work, "Hey, Mike. It's Bud Cooper." Bud, so that was his name, "Yeah, the wife isn't feeling too well. I'm staying back just in case anything happens to her or the baby. Yeah...sounds like a plan. Alright. Bye."

He hangs the phone up and looks back at you, "Maybe we should get some food in ya and see if that helps?"

Bud helps you out of bed and guides you down the stairs to the kitchen. He has you sit at the table and looks around the kitchen, "Um...where can I find the pan?"

"Cabinet next to the stove," your answer surprises you. How you already have the knowledge and layout of the kitchen is new.

Bud chuckles to himself, "You know how useless I am in the kitchen. This is the women's domain," he opens the cabinet and grabs the pan. He sets it on the shelf and continues to ask you where everything is.

You eventually get up and grab everything for him, but then he has you sit back down, "Okay, I can cook all this myself. See, I'm not completely helpless."

You hum, not loving Bud's current views on women. Sure, this was the norm of this time period, but that didn't mean it didn't leave a bad taste in your mouth.

While Bud cooked, you decided to grab the newspaper out front, but not after promising him that you'd be careful. When you picked up the newspaper, the year stared back up to you 1955.

"Oh wow."

"Good morning, Y/N!" a woman from across the street waves at you as she kisses her husband on the cheek.

You wave back and proceed to walk back inside the home...your home. As you sit back down, Bud places a plate of breakfast and some juice in front of you. Everything is cooked just how you liked it.

He then sits across the table from you and grabs the newspaper you brought in. He places his glasses on and reads while shoveling eggs into his mouth.

Your stomach jolts and you gasp, making Bud immediately rushing to your side, "What is it? What's wrong?"

You smile up at him, "She kicked."

"She's becoming more active, huh?" he kneels down and presses a hand to his belly again, "Looks like you're up and awake, huh, princess?" she kicks again and Bud laughs, "Yeah, honey, this is your daddy."

He continues to talk to your little girl and you can't help but get emotional at the sight. You and Marc are married, yes, but you didn't talk about kids yet. You were content with or without them, but you weren't sure on Marc's views. Considering how he grew up, you're sure he'd be apprehensive.

If, no, when you get back to him, you'll probably have to discuss this with him. Because you can't help but imagining Marc in Bud's position right now. You see the love in his eyes and you just know that Marc, hell even Steven and Jake, would be good fathers.

"You okay care there, lovebug?"

You wipe your eyes, "Yeah, just really happy."

Bud smiles up at you, "I am too."

__________________________

Marc and Steven never thought that hopping through multiple universes was so exhausting. So far they'd been to three different universes. They had to make sure they were in disguise, not wanting to disrupt anything in each universe. But every version they've seen of you, made them miss you even more.

Doctor Strange, seeing the worry and hopelessness in their eyes comforted them, "We'll get her back. It just...takes time."

Steven, currently fronting, shook his head, "I know she'll be okay. She's strong. I just...if someone travels through so many universes, will it effect them in any way?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest."

___________________________

You've been in this universe for less than a day and you already dread leaving. You didn't think yourself of a motherly type, but every time you looked down at your belly or rubbed it, your heart felt so full.

Despite ensuring Bud that you're fine, your "husband" insisted you shouldn't be working on the nursery. So he rolled up his sleeves and worked on painting the room. A baby pink already adorned two walls. How cliche to make your baby girl's nursery fairytale themed. She was your princess after all.

While Bud works on the other two walls, you put up some pictures and artwork. You take a step back and observe your work. You find yourself smiling and rubbing your belly.

"Everything's turning out great, I'd say!" Bud exclaims, coming up next to you and wrapping an arm around your waist.

You nod and he kisses your head, "Why don't you start up lunch while I finish this up, hm?"

"Sounds good!" you peck his lips and waddle your way to the kitchen, when you enter the threshold, you're suddenly somewhere else.

"Fuck!" you whisper to yourself and you're suddenly tackled to the floor as a rain of bullets fire your way.

"I fucking told you to get down!"

"Marc?" you ask to your..husband?

"Pope! Let's go!" another man runs into the room, helping your husband's doppleganger to his feet and then you.

"More hostiles are headed this way. This mission is fucked."

'Pope' nodded and then turned to you, "Rosa, you good?"

You gulp and nodded, "Y-Yeah. I'm good." you looked down noticed the tactical gear you're donning. A knife strapped to your thigh and a gun to your other.

Who were you in this universe?

[multific]

Fate Takes It All

Bud Cooper x Reader

Modern!AU

Inspired by @brandyllyn work.

Warning: mention of insurance scams, death, smut and blackmail

Summary: After the death of your grandma you are to inherit as she stated in her will. However, when you get a stranger knocking on your door, it looks like your grandma had secrets of her own.

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

"Ma'am, my name is Bud Cooper, I come from Limitless Insurance regarding your grandmother's will." the man in front of your door looked too handsome to be true.

This looked like some of the porn you might watch when you want to get cheesy. 

"Um, come on in." you allowed him into your small apartment, guiding him to your dining table. "Anything to drink? Coffee or tea?"

"I'll take some water please, if you have sparkling."

"Of course." you headed to the kitchen to get him a glass as you watched him from the corner of your eye. He got some papers out of his suitcase and sat down.

You sat across from him.

"First of all, Ma'am, I'm truly sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. Please excuse my boldness but, why are you here exactly?"

"You see, I went over your grandmother's will and insurance policy. She had a very basic plan, if you will. A cheap one. And yet, as it was determined, you are to receive 5 million due to her death."

"S-sorry. F-f-five... million?" you whispered the last part and he simply nodded. You nearly fell down from the chair.

"My job at Limitless Insurance is to look into these kind of contracts, I received it after the amount was determined and I found the amount strange. Your grandmother passed due to her age. She wasn't sick, she had no illnesses, from our data, she was very fit for her age. So, excuse me, but I found it strange. How can an amount as big as that, come after such a simple plan and contract? I had a look and your grandmother had a closure."

You looked at him, almost breathless as you waited for him to explain.

It made no sense.

She never mentioned anything about insurance.

"Her closure was in the event of death before her 80th birthday. The amount was determined because of that."

"It makes no sense. Why would my grandmother have something like that? Why would it be... good for your company?"

"Those were my exact questions. The man who prepared and got the contract approved, James McDrown, an insurance salesman who had been with the company for a long long time. He passed after a car accident just two months ago."

"What are you saying Mr Cooper?" you searched his eyes.

"I found out that your grandmother and Mr McDrown have been in a romantic relationship. I believe he prepared the contract for her with such a favourable amount because of that. I have proof of their messages." you frowned your eyebrows.

"What do you want Mr Cooper?"

"Half. And I won't release the information about the scam your grandmother and James pulled on the company. Now I'm sure you know how it would end if it got out. Big lawsuit." You looked at your hands on the table.

"But you see, Mr Cooper, the closure you mentioned had been signed by Limitless Insurance. Meaning, that even IF what Granny and James did is... not the right thing, it was approved and it is in full effect. So, tell me, Mr Cooper, why would I give anything to you exactly?" you smiled at him and watched as his eyes widened. "I assume your next step would be to prove my grandmother's death was not due to age. But let me remind you once more of the closure. More specifically, the last sentence." you pointed at the paper and looked into his eyes. "Even in the event of suicide." 

A heavy silence fell in the room.

"So, I ask once more, Mr Cooper from Limitless Insurance, what do you want?" you watched as he swallowed. 

"It seems I walked right into the claws of the dragon. How could I escape?" you loved his panic.

"I have been thinking of getting a life insurance myself. Would you perhaps be able to help me?"

"I-"

"But I have also been thinking, I could use some company, I believe you could be a good... cure for my loneliness."

"Ma'am... It seems like I have made a big mistake."

"Just as you said, Mr Cooper, you walked right into my claws."

"Is this what your late grandmother did to James?"

"Don't underestimate my Grandfather, Mr Cooper." Bud looked behind you at the cabinet and saw the photos. Photos of a young girl with the insurance salesman. "My grandmother once told me that a handsome insurance man would come knocking on my door. She said he would be mine and mine alone. Now I believe you are the insurance man I heard about since I was a child. So, we can start with a simple date. I can be quite sweet despite my... sassiness."

Who was he to lie and say he didn't like the idea? 

Who was he to say he wasn't staring at you as you poured the water for him? 

Who was he to say his cock didn't get hard just by the way you smiled at him? 

A wicked smile, but it made his blood rush into one place only. 

"I believe Ma'am, I have fallen into the traps of a spider, a black widow. And I rather not escape. So, we should go out for dinner? I can wait for you to get ready." 

"Perfect! Give me about 30 minutes." he simply nodded.

Who was he to stand in the way of fate?

A/N: Anyone interested in Part 2, let me know! I have some ideas!

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline3577 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak  @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

In case you want to help out a dreamer: patreon.com/multific  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[ghostbite0]

regarding the whole 21 trio turned baby thing....

feel free to ask about this concept im so invested. i need to draw like 20+ things. "ghostbite stop making aus with the hashira being turned into kids." no they are severely traumatized and deserve to have fun and cope every once in a while. its cute. my art my rules

more info under the cut...

giyuu is so over this whole situation and just wants to sleep it off. he cooperates but very reluctantly. when hes all baby mode hes a curious little guy. the other hashira see his smile and they all lose their minds. despite this shinobu and tengen tease him constantly. i imagine hes rlly similar to how he was as a kid where hes more reserved and smiley and everyone thinks its super sweet. he's the easiest to take care of by a long shot

sanemi is angry and hates the world and is constantly smacking whoever will scoop him up. he loves to pull on people's hair and is regularly being lectured. then of course you have people teasing him like aww is the little guy fussy (this immediately results in sanemi unleashign hell)... when hes baby mode hes the happiest little thing and he drools everywhere. he is only nice to genya when hes in baby mode otherwise hes just screaming bloody murder and trying to rip off all his hair

as for obanai hes shy and embarrassed about the whole thing. he has mittens on 24/7 and is almost always wrapped up in a blanket bc he needs the warmth. timid and at war with his demons. if he doesnt have a pacifier he has his little tongue sticking out and if this is pointed out to him he will shrivel up and die. when hes baby mode hes the sweetest little thing and it confuses everyone bc arent u supposed to be like the meanest person in the world. hes the smallest of the three so everyone pays closer attention to him to ensure hes eating and he doesnt get sick bc his little immune system just cant handle it. mitsuri absolutely adores him and muichiro has claimed him as his baby brother and if you try to take obanai away from him he will bite you

also shoutout to my bud @photographicapparitions this whole au is based on a concept we have talked abt & they characterized baby mode giyuu and i was a coward and scared of posting things but they have been endlessly suportive.... go send them some love

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Vidas Pasadas (Past Lives)

PART ONE: THE SHOW MUST GO ON

Mini-Series Masterlist

Also on AO3

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Latina!Reader (Spanish speaking)

WC: 2.5k words

Series Summary: Before the great war, you were an actress—A good friend and frequent co-star of Cooper Howard. After two hundred years in cryogenic stasis, you’re being sent to New Vegas as a performer, but on the way there, things don’t go quite as planned.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, series is 18+, canon typical violence, some angst, friends to lovers-ish?, some miscommunications, eventual smut, chem use, there’ll be some Spanish in there for sure (with translations), cursing, the ghoul being the ghoul, aaaaand that’s all I can think of for now but lmk if anything else!

A/N: This is INCREDIBLY self indulgent, but imagine yourself in these shoes for a moment why don’t you? :) hope you enjoy! pt.1 dedicada ao meu amor @the-devils-littlegirl <33

——————-

The holotape was a little over two hundred years old, but it was in relatively good condition. It contained a talk show interview with two actors who were promoting a Western film. The image was in black and white, fuzzy with time, and the voices sounded tinny. 

“So tell me, both of you, what’s it been like working on so many pictures together?” The interviewer, Holden Boyd, asked. “This must be — what, the fourth one?”

“That’s right. You know, Holden, in all my years in this industry, I have never met anyone more professional,” Cooper Howard, the handsome hero of the film, turned to you, sitting beside him. “But she also knows how to keep things balanced between work and play. We laugh a lot behind the scenes, actually.”

“Really?” Holden asked, leaning forward with renewed interest. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me, you two have some incredible chemistry on screen.”

“Well, gee, Coop, do we really?” You couldn’t help but grin at him, making him chuckle. “Maybe that’s why we keep getting cast together.”

“And how’s his Spanish? Are you teaching him any?” Holden asked you. 

“I’ve certainly tried,” you said, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Say something, why don’t you?”

Cooper’s smile turned sheepish, shaking his head. “Errr… No muy bueno, pero intento.”

His thick southern accent made you and Holden laugh, invariably charmed. In the background, claps and cheers from the live audience, equally smitten. Cooper always knew how to win people over, it was like second nature to him.

“He’s a natural!” Holden exclaimed. “Say the line Coop, you know the one.”

Cooper cleared his throat, squared his shoulders and pretended to point a gun, his expression fully serious.“Feo, Fuerte, y Formal.”

An eruption of cheers, louder than before. You clapped in delight, smiling ear to ear as you bumped your shoulder against his playfully.

“Ah, I see you’ve found our tapes,” the mechanical voice of vault thirty-one’s overseer startled you. 

You looked down at… it, still not used to interacting with a motorized brain suspended in some sort of tank. Bud, you thought it said its name was. Vaguely familiar, but your memories were still hazy, having been in cryogenic stasis for so long. 

“Why do you have these?” You asked.

“Everything pertaining to Hollywood was preserved for archival purposes. Feel free to watch anything you like,” Bud said. “We have all of your films, as well as interviews, press clippings, and pictures.”

You looked back at the screen, crossing your arms over your chest and trying not to shudder. You had me, too. You thought, stomach turning. A shiny toy shelved away for later use.

You’d gotten a spot in vault thirty one in exchange for compliance — after all, the future would need entertainers, right? And the nostalgia factor would just sell so well. You would be totally set for whatever came… or so they’d said.

It hadn’t seemed like a terrible deal at the time, but you hadn’t truly realized how tremendous the losses would be. Or how much things could veer off course in two centuries. 

Cooper was gone, and so was everyone else you had ever cared for. Bud hadn’t said what happened to your former co-star, but it didn't need to. 

 You had entered the vault all by yourself, with no family or spouse to consider. And just a few days ago, you had been greeted by that same loneliness when you’d emerged from the pod. 

Some things never changed, it seemed. Perhaps New Vegas wouldn’t be a terrible distraction, all things considered.

“Feels like it was only yesterday…” you said, keeping the melancholy out of  your voice.

“Doesn’t it? That’s the best part of the stasis pods. Keeps one fresh,” Bud said, chipper. “How’s your head feeling, by the way?”

“Better,” you sighed. “Barely any pain left.”

“Oh, good. You should be ready to travel to New Vegas in a couple more days. I’ve been in touch with a trusted courier that should be able to escort you there safely.”

A tinge of fear in your chest. “How… bad is it out there?”

“Well, er, it’s… not great. But we’ll get there! I’ve heard New Vegas has a lot more going for it than these parts,” Bud said quickly, not wanting to linger on the negative. “Vault twenty one, where you’ll be staying, was turned into a hotel. Lots of people passing by. I’m sure it’ll be easy for you to attract the crowds.” 

Stepping towards the projector, you ejected the holotape, unable to watch any more. The memories would consume you far too easily, if you let them. That life had crumbled to dust long ago, and there was nothing you could do to change that, either.

What other choice did you have but to trudge forward?

“For both our sakes, Bud, I really hope that’s true.”

————————————-

As with most things, Bud had severely understated just how bad things were on the surface. The sight of it had instantly struck you— Nothing was left but ruins and desert plains stretching as far as the eye could see. No one but you and the courier — a weathered, gruff looking middle-aged man — around for miles.

You’d left your vault suit behind in exchange for the clothes you’d worn when you first went in. You were also given a small survival pack, a tranquilizer gun, and a pip boy, but that was the extent of your belongings.

 The courier handed you a hat and an old scarf to cover yourself from the sun and the sand, instructing you to keep close before whirling around and starting to walk.

Did he even say what his name was? You couldn’t recall, but you were too busy being in shock to care too much.

It was all so unceremonious, unlike what you’d been used to in the past. No cars or any other mode of transportation, no roads to smoothly cruise on. No kind words offered for your departure, except for Bud’s overly enthusiastic Good luck! before opening the vault’s enormous door. 

“Say, how long do you think the… trip is going to take?” You asked, trying to keep your fear at bay. 

“Around three weeks, give or take. That is, if the weather holds and we keep a good pace during the day,” the courier said. “Can’t be out at night around these parts.”

You swallowed hard, wondering what sorts of dangers lurked out there. You had some stunt training, but no actual fighting skills. Hopefully, the tranq gun would be enough, but you also suspected your companion had far deadlier weapons.

Better to stay on his good side, you thought.

“First stop’s at a town called Filly. Got some quick business to take care of there, so we’ll be spending the night,” the courier continued when you didn’t respond. “Keep your head down and let me do the talking. Don’t want anybody to recognize you.”

You nodded, letting out a long sigh. 

“Hopefully they’ve got showers there,” you said, imagining how calming the hot stream of water might be. 

The courier looked at you over his shoulder, incredulous, and barked out a laugh. Your face heated up at his ridicule, mumbling something about vault dwellers to himself with a shake of his head. 

You walked in silence for the next couple of hours, trying to guess what area you might be passing through. Briefly, you wondered if the ruins of your old house still stood somewhere, and if you’d be able to find them. 

But you reminded yourself not to dwell on what no longer existed. 

Soon enough, you started to see signs of humanity. A few stragglers here and there, but the courier steered you in different directions whenever he spotted larger groups. Raiders, he’d told you, a grim look on his face.

 You hurried your step, wanting to put as much distance between you and them as possible. Bud had given you a very basic rundown of what you might encounter on the surface, but while some of it was hard to believe without seeing it firsthand, raiders did not fall under that category.

Still, despite the danger, at least you were reassured that you weren’t the only people left around. 

Filly was a ramshackle town made up of scraps;  A small testament of humanity’s endurance. Vendors were hawking questionable food and other wares at the outskirts of it, the tight pack of more bodies making you nervous. 

Your senses were invaded by smells and noises and even the occasional passerby bumping into you. Life was still brimming, as chaotic as it may seem. Somehow, it made you feel the smallest flicker of hope.

The courier led you through the crowd and down a rickety stairway towards a small square, where there was a little more room to move. The sun was beginning to set, bright tendrils of orange and gold tinting the sky. 

For a brief moment, you stopped to look at it, moved almost to tears by the simple beauty of a sunset. At least, that hadn’t changed either, and you vowed to never take them for granted again. 

“This way,” the courier said, urging you to move. 

Unbeknownst to you, someone had taken notice of the two of you. More specifically, the courier. A hit had been placed on him, worth three hundred caps. There was no reason given for it, but he hadn’t thought to ask questions, anyway. He didn’t much like meddling unnecessarily.

He surreptitiously followed behind, keeping his distance so you wouldn’t notice him. He already stuck out like a sore thumb, what with being a ghoul and all. But, like any bounty hunter worth his salt, he still knew how to lay low.

The courier led you into a repurposed building that rented out closet sized rooms. You paid with a few of the caps Bud had put in your survival pack, relieved that you wouldn’t have to share a room. 

The courier was curt but prudent, in his own way. You were just a task to him, and you knew he would protect you as best as he could because of it. You had nothing against him so far, but you didn’t want to take your chances regardless. 

“Stay in your room, I’m gonna head out for a bit. I’ll bring back some food,” he said, turning to leave.

“Wait!” You hurried behind him, out into the open, where it was growing darker. “Wouldn’t it be better to, uh, stick together?”

“It’s private business,” he grunted, annoyed. “Besides, you’ll be safer in there.”

“But—”

“Hey, you,” you heard from behind you, followed by a commanding whistle. “Sabinez, is it?”

The courier looked up, his eyes immediately widening. “Oh, fuck.”

You followed his gaze, finding a… cowboy. His face was mostly obscured underneath the brim of his hat, but his lack of a nose was still strikingly apparent. Radiation burns marred what little skin you could see, the rest covered in old, tattered leathers. 

A ghoul, from what Bud had described. The see-it-to-believe-it kind of danger. Your stomach dropped.

He was pointing his revolver at the courier – Sabinez –  finger about to squeeze the trigger.

“No, please!” You exclaimed, panicked. 

Foolishly, without even thinking about it, you stepped in front of him, arms extended in an attempt to further shield him. The ghoul raised his hairless eyebrows, both amused and surprised.

“I need him,” you said, heart beating so fast you feared it might leap out of your chest. “Please.”

“How sweet,” the ghoul said mockingly, one hand on his chest. “But as it turns out, sweetheart, I need him, too.”

Before you could react, he raised the barrel of the revolver infinitesimally and fired. A dizzying moment in which the bullet whizzed by your head, and Sabinez’s body slumped behind you, his blood spraying at your back. 

Any onlookers that had stuck around scattered to safety, not wanting to be next in line for whatever the ghoul had planned. You let out a choked sound, too shocked to even scream. Shuddering, you slowly looked over your shoulder, only to avert your gaze quickly.

“No,” you murmured, horrified. “No, no, no…Fuck!”

It was just your luck, encountering death the very first day you finally returned to the surface. You wondered if you should fall to your knees and beg for mercy, but your body refused to move.

The ghoul’s spurs clinked as he stepped towards you, and you raised your hands in surrender, keeping your eyes down.

“You the cargo?” He asked, tilting his head to one side in curiosity. “Let’s get a better look at’cha.”

You whimpered as he grasped one of your arms, his other hand tugging down the scarf that covered half your face. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyes roaming over your features.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice low.

Swallowing hard, you finally dared to look up at him. Tears clung to your lashes, a stray one running down your cheek. He looked more skeletal up close, his eyes sunken in, cheekbones prominent, and of course there was the cavern where his nose would be. 

He removed your hat next, letting go of you and taking a step back. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite decipher, but you felt a creeping sense of deja vu the longer you looked at him. 

“You…” he said, something like recognition in his voice, as well as disbelief.

“I–Please, I don’t know w-what he did to you but I don’t–” You started to babble, but he interrupted. 

“Where were y’all heading off to?”

“U-um, New Vegas, uh, sir?” You tried to smile placatingly, but it was watery and would slip away at any moment. 

Not only was it strange for him to see you alive and in the flesh, but you were also fearing him. He remembered your earnest smiles, genuinely pleased to see him. Then again, you hadn’t yet recognized who he was. 

He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted you to know, but he also didn’t really want to let you go on your own way. Plus, he’d just killed your only guide, so it was only fair that he took on the job and saw it through.

That way, he could try to find out more about all that had happened, without giving himself away.

“New Vegas, huh,” he mused, letting out a low whistle. “That’s a long ways away, especially if you don’t know where you’re goin’...But it’s your lucky night, sweetheart, ‘cus I just so happen to know the way.”

“R-really? I could pay you if you’d h-help me!” you said quickly, rummaging through your pack to show him some caps. “I’m not sure how much would be enough but… I’ll be making more once I start working.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist now, we can do some negotiating later,” he drawled, lips curling in a smirk as he looked up at the building behind you. “Hope you don’t mind us bunking together.”

Your entire face heated up. “Uh, you can take his room. It’s already paid for.”

“Well, what a generous fella he was,” he said, tossing your stuff back at you. “Jus’ don’t come runnin’ when you get nightmares. I ain’t much of a cuddler.”

----

[shellxrls]

reader getting hardcore anal from coryo -- thoughts? 🤨

mdni | 18+ content

it’s a punishment, he's trying to teach you some manners by keeping you away from sex for a bit. obviously unfair from your perspective, but what you don’t realise is: coryo’s suffering too. the longest he’s been without pussy since dating you was a week - when he was on a science trip funded by the academy.

groveling, you walk up to him, tracing lazy circles into the stiff fabric of his academy uniform and pouting your lips, subtly grinding your pelvis against his thighs.

“coryo, please,” you whine.

he probably had a rough day at the academy today, bc that’s all it takes from him to snap, “wanna be a brat, c’mere.”

you yelp as he picks you up, carrying you bridal style to his bed and dropping you on your stomach, pushing your lower back down until you cooperated with his instruction and arched, face pushed into the sheets and ass presented to him.

“gonna fuck you in the ass,” he grunts, grabbing some lube - normally used for both your comfort when he would fuck you, he was long, and despite how much time you had been together, it occasionally still stung to take him - from his drawer.

“what!?” you pivot your neck incredulously , manoeuvring yourself so you could look at him over your shoulder, “coryo, we’ve never done that before and i-.”

he cuts you off before you have a chance to talk yourself into freaking out, gagging you with the panties he had taken off while you were too distracted at the thought of him sticking his dick in your ass - it took you months to adjust to him in your pussy, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how long it would take for your ass.

it doesn’t take long before he has you squealing into the mattress, almost tearing holes in the comforter with your nails while your neglected pussy clenching around air.

“flip ‘round, wanna see your pretty pussy,” coryo groans, easing off on his thrusts to let you turn and lie flat on your back - his eyes wandering to your soaked entrance and watching arousal leak out, sticky on your thighs and pooling on his shaft still hard in your ass.

he removes the makeshift gag from your lips, swollen and rubbed raw from the fabric, “p-please, coryo, need to cum,” you whine, trying to get him to pay any sort of attention to at least your clit, the bud sore and achy from his assault on your backside.

“wasn’t planning on letting you cum anyways, only fucking you ‘cause you couldn’t keep your hands away and my dick got hard,” he laments, pushing himself back in all the way to the hilt, and continuing his bruising pace until he’s cumming inside your ass while salty tears crystallise down your face from your lack of orgasm.

“maybe next time, if you’re good” he taunts, slapping your lower thigh and watching you wince in pleasure that bordered on pain.

[whatdudtheysay]

Toji fushiguro x F! Reader

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

CW - gun play, overstimulation, Oral (F Receiving), DUBCON/NONSPOKENCONSENT, creampie, squirting n creamin, toji being a bully

Not proofread - Secret agent au

Part 2

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

"Strip."

You glared at him through your lashes, holding one arm as you contemplated everything.

You were your agency's best spy. But somehow your opposing team had hired him. Fushiguro Toji. A skilled 'hitman'. If the money was good he'd do the job without question. They had sent him after you when you were doing patrol and you basically fell into his traps and soon enough there was a white cloth over you mouth and you got very sleepy.

Now you were here. In some big looking hotel room with Toji sat on the bed in front of you.

"Excuse me?"

Toji sighed

"You're not dumb y/n. Take off your clothes."

Your brows narrowed.

"You think I'd really obey your commands?"

Toji got up, towering over you with ease.

"I've been pretty kind to you but don't push it. I could make your death look like an accident if I wanted." Toji told you coolly. "They want you at their headquarters alive but I need to search you. Cooperate."

You held your breath, watching as toji sat back on the bed.

He raised his brows slightly. You took a deep breath.

Let's just get this over with...besides. my team'll look for me.

You reluctantly peeled off your jacket, letting it slip to the floor, making toji relax slightly.

You undid your weapons belt, all the different knives and daggers falling to the floor, making a clinking sound. You contemplated trying to attack him but it was evident on his face that he wasn't in the mood. Besides, he was big and you were just over half his height.

You lifted your shirt over your head, revealing your tank top, then pushing yourself out of your black leggings, your underwear coming into toji's view.

He hummed, making your face heat up.

"There." You murmured.

Toji made a tch sound, getting up and walking behind you, his hands scrunching the material of your tank top.

"You must've forgotten this, him?" He asked, his breath tickling your ear.

Before you could stop him, Toji had already torn the material, pulling it off your body with ease. You shuddered once his hands moved to your hips, massaging your flesh.

"Hey- I don't have anything else on me-" you stammered, trying to stop his hands.

"Not entirely sure about that. " Toji replied, hands moving to your bra clasp.

He undid it with ease, slipping it off your body, making you gasp slightly. You covered your breasts, turning to look at him.

"You're such a pervert!" You yelled, trying to move away from him.

During your efforts, you stumbled over your belt, falling against the bed. By the time you had propped yourself in your elbows, toji was already spreading your legs, positioning himself between them.

"What're you doing?" You questioned, trying to push yourself further up the bed, your attempts failing once Toji held your ankles.

"I need to check one more place." Toji responded, a hand pulling your panties down.

You clamped your eyes shut as he did so, trying to imagine you being anywhere else. However, your eyes opened suddenly when you felt Toji pad at your clit, making you whine.

"Stop! What're you doing-" you whimpered, trying to contain your voice when he began rubbing your sensitive bud with more pressure.

"Just checking."

"You've done enough."

Toji looked up at you with a smirk on his face.

"Well, you're awfully wet down here, y/n. You're making a puddle." He taunted, a finger moving down to your entrance, pushing two thick digits inside of you, holding them up after to show you how much you had drenched his fingers.

"No way -" you murmured.

His fingers moved back to your clit, his other hand pushing into you, making you mewl, your pussy clenching around him hungrily.

"Shit." Toji groaned, eyes locked on the way you hungrily sucked him in.

You whimpered more, your eyes closing as you tried to fend off the pleasure you were receiving.. You weren't supposed to feel good about this but you couldn't help it. His fingers could easily hit that sweet spot you had deep inside you.

Toji halted his movements, causing you to look at him again.

You were about to ask why but you stopped when you saw that smirk.

"Let me go " you huffed, feeling embarrassed. "My team will kill you."

Toji stayed silent before laughing, making you narrow your brows at him.

"What's so funny."

Toji looked over you once more, a hungry look in his eyes. He lifted your legs, pushing them to your chest whilst he positioned himself in front of your heat, his tongue licking over you, making you sigh, your toes curling.

"You believing your team will actually come for you is funny." He sighed, looking up at you before lapping at your slit.

You let out breathy moans, hands moving to clench his hair which Toji undeniably took as a compliment.

"They- they are comingg for me-" you moaned, pulling at his hair harder, your orgasm creeping close.

He stopped his movements, meeting your eyes once more.

"You're dumber than you look." He tutted, his fingers thrusting back into you. "Nobody's coming for you."

You bit back your sounds, unable to hold back your orgasm anymore, letting it wash over you, hot globs of tears falling down your cheeks.

Toji moved away from your heat, wiping your essence from his chin.

"What do you mean.." you weakly asked, your body feeling tired from the orgasm he just put you through.

Toji laughed.

"This was basically your suicide mission. You come from an amazing agency. Ya think they wouldn't know I'd be sent." Toji scoffed, pulling a gun from his waistband, followed by a dagger that he threw to the floor, keeping the gun on the bed side table.

"they've wanted to get rid of you for a while. Why else would they send you alone?"

Your eyes began to sting from this new information, trying to hold back tears.

"you're lying."

Toji scoffed, pulling off his shirt to reveal his well built body, huge scars littered across his body.

"Then why haven't your co workers come, hm? As soon as your body cam got turned off they should've tried finding you," he sighed, pulling down his pants and briefs, revealing his hard cock.

Your mouth went dry at the sight. Long and hard was the only thing going through your head, trying to think of anyway to escape it.

Your eyes moved back to his face, a devilish smirk on his lips.

"Fuck you. They'll come for me, they will-"

"Shut the fuck up with your blabbering. You look sexy as shit but don't push it." Toji warned, grabbing his gun once more. "Or I'll push a fucking bullet through your pretty little head. Ok?"

You shut up, nodding slightly when he pushed it against your head. However, it was all a distraction that toji used, using the time he had to quickly thrust himself into you, a loud moan leaving your lips.

Toji mentally cursed himself. Your pussy was gonna get him in trouble. Lots of trouble. The first slide was otherworldly. Your cunt hugged him tightly, almost trying to suck the blood out of his dick. He almost came inside you right then and there.

"Now say you'll be a good girl for me." Toji commanded, slowly thrusting in and out of your cunt making it seem like he was letting you get used to his size which was a cover-up of him trying to fend off a mind blowing orgasm that was creeping up.

"I'll.... I'll be a good girl..." You replied, your breath shallow at the feeling of his heavy cock dragging against your fluttering walls.

You had had sex multiple times but it felt like it was your first time all over again with the way toji's dick forcefully stretched you out

"Good...shit, this pussy's so fucking tight. Might have to stretch it out all night so I can fit in here, huh?"

You nodded, your mind going blank at the thought of it, incoherent sentences spilling from your lips as he dug deeper, the head of his cock bulging in your stomach.

Toji's hand snaked around your neck, burying the gun deeper into the side of your head.

"You seem a bit eager for someone who was just betrayed by an agency she swore secrecy to. Were you a slut this whole time?"

You bit your lip needily, legs wrapping around his waist instead, unable to form words whilst your back arched.

Toji chuckled breathlessly,

"so you are just a slutty nympho. 's fine. I'll give you what you want."

You hurriedly nodded, nails digging into his sides as he brought you to your second orgasm.

"Ahh, fuck-toji, gonna cum" you whimpered, nails moving to drag over his chest.

"Hold it." Toji grunted, his pace becoming more rough whilst his grip on your hips tightened.

"Can't-"

"Well, you're gonna fucking hold it or I'll just have to kill you right here n' now." He threatened, tapping the gun against the side of your head.

There was no way you were gonna hold it. Toji was fucking you so good. Too good. It wasn't long before your body betrayed you and went tense finally letting go, your walls milking him tightly while you cried in pleasure, nails raking over his built stomach, breaking flesh.

Toji suddenly stopped moving. Looking over your face with a displeased expression.

"Couldn't fucking hold it, could ya?"

More tears stained your cheeks, looking away from him. Toji grabbed your chin roughly, pulling out of you after, leaving your hole clenching around nothing.

Toji moved the gun from the side of your head to your trembling lips, tapping it against you, smirking at the sight of your terrified expression before sighing, lowering the gun further until he met your leaking entrance, lubricating the gun with your slick before pushing it into you, making you moan on surprise, trying to move away from him desperately.

"I'll pity you, pretty girl. There's one bullet in here.." toji hummed, his finger teasing the trigger. "But because you disobeyed me."

Your eyes clamped shut when he suddenly pressed down, only a small sound coming from his hand gun, a hint of disappointment on toji's face.

"You're a lucky slut." Toji commented, thrusting the gun in and out of you, his dick twitching at the sounds of your whimpers and your now uncontrollable sobs. "But since you wanted to cum so bad then I wanna see you do it around my gun."

Your pleads for him to stop went unheard. It was different from when he was inside you. The gun was rigid and the roughness scraped against your walls. But you found yourself bucking against it, wanting it to angle deep and hit that spot toji had found so easily.

"Such a fucking whore." Toji mumbled, picking up the pace of his thrusts whilst his other hand moved to fist against his cock, groaning in pleasure at the sight of you.

"Toji Please-" you begged, feeling your stomach tighten harder. "I can't hold it-"

Toji just hummed as if he was listening, pushing his gun deeper inside you, earning himself more moans and whimpers from you.

"Since you're being more honest," Toji sighed, picking up the pace, your eyes clamping shut once more. "You can cum."

The tension in your stomach practically exploded as you came around him hard your pussy gushing with arousal as toji chuckled lowly, rubbing your clit harder, watching as more spurts of squirt came out of you.

"Fucking slut...guess it's expected that you'd like getting fucked with something like this," Toji cursed, pulling his gun out of you before raising it to your lips, forcing it past your slightly opened lips. "Clean it."

You didn't disobey him this time, instead licking the outside of the gun quickly, trying your best to clean it. Toji took it out of your mouth finally, letting it rest against the side of your head as he bottomed out, making you scream in pleasure at the return of that oh so sweet stretch.

"Shit. Feels like you've gotten tighter down here-" he gasped, pushing the gun closer against you, making you mewl, hands gripping the sheets tightly.

Toji didn't waste any more time, pounding his cock deep inside of you, earning loud moans from your swollen lips.

"Please, toji! Slow down, Please-" you whined, more tears falling down your puffy cheeks. You were still so sensitive, scared that you'd cum again with just a few more thrusts.

"Quit your fuckin' whining." Toji grunted, enjoying the way you tightened around him. "You act like a slut, you get fucked like one. Now quit squirmin'"

You moaned harder when toji suddenly grabbed your leg, throwing it over his shoulder whilst he aimed at a different spot, more hot globs of tears falling from your eyes.

"Toji- cant- fuck I'm gonna cum" you cried, your back arching up towards him as you tried desperately to move away from the rushed feeling.

"Fucking. Hold. Still." Toji groaned, voicing each word with a deep thrust.

That did it for you, you came around him again, squirting against his abdomen whilst your hole continued to milk him needily, your eyes almost rolling back at the euphoric pleasure.

"Toji, toji, Toji-!" You cried, feeling his thumb move to rub against your clit once more. "Can't take anymore,"

"Shut the fuck up-" Toji cursed, panting heavily at the feeling of you clamping around him. "Gonna cum inside this slutty cunt."

You shook your head and toji decided to remind you of the presence of his weapon, digging it against your temple, shutting you up once more, only choked moans and more cries of pleasure leaving you.

"Shit, shit, shit-" toji hissed, his hips slamming into you with more need. "Gonna cum- gonna fill you up,"

After a few more fuelled thrusts, toji lightly stuttered in his movements, his head lightly tipping back as he emptied himself into you. That action alone had you cumming uncontrollably again, soaking both you and toji this time. Toji let you both ride out your highs, lightly rocking his hips into you before pulling out, his dick coated in a mixture of his and your cum.

Your eyes fluttered shut, resting against the sheets that were now sticking to your sweat covered body, shivering lightly once you felt Toji pushing his cum back into your leaking hole.

Toji let his eyes wander over you, a part of him not wanting to take you to the rivalling headquarters but he knew he'd see more of you anyways.

You on the other hand didn't know how much time had passed. You opened your eyes, still inside the hotel room but this time in an oversized black shirt, the sheets changed and you didn't feel sweaty.

Before you could question anything, toji walked back in from what looked like the bathroom, fully clothed this time, something black in his hand.

You froze when he walked to your side, a small smirk on his face as he leaned over you, your heart beat picking up the pace.

"Sorry, sweetheart....as much as I had fun last night...business is business."

He then pushed the black cloth against your nose. You struggled against him but it was inevitable. Your body was still so sore from the harsh treatment toji had put on you and eventually you used all your energy, your eyes becoming heavy lidded, forcing you to close them.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I'll make sure they're easy on you over there..."

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

⎯⎯

A/n - thanks so so much for all the love I've been getting recently! Really do appreciate it and I'm happy that you all actually enjoy my work! Thanks for over 200 followers ❤︎

[wordsbyvani]

My gift for @comfortless. Congrats on your milestone, beloved!💖

Today is the spring equinox in the northern hemisphere (my favorite season), so... a little blurb. König goes on a cute picnic date with his lovely. No content warnings, just pure fluff. :o)

“Thanks for doing this.” 

“Ja.”

This is ridiculous. He shouldn’t feel this nervous. 

Willing, praying, his palms stay dry as you both walk together, hand-in-hand, through the forest, toward the lush glade you’d talked so much about.  

Rays of sun peek through wispy clouds, a light breeze rustles branches budding with fresh blooms. A sparkling lake ripples, casting sparkles and glimmers through cracks in the tree line. Colors, green, life paint the area in messy splotches, having yet to find their place in nature.

Spring is here.

You had droned on endlessly about your love for the season, your excitement for the earth to come alive once more. Perhaps you thought he paid no mind to your silly ramblings. But he did. Every detail, every word, every expression; he drinks in every drop. 

Even though you haven’t known each other long, it feels like forever. Everything flows naturally; conversation comes so easily. For once, in a social setting outside of work, he doesn’t feel nervous. He wants to talk to you, wants to spend time with you. 

He simply wants… you.

So of course, when you mentioned how excited you were for warmth, for sun, he planned something right away. Shyly approached you with his request for an outing, which you readily accepted. Silently pleaded with the weather to cooperate as he planned, waiting for the day to arrive. 

Now here you both are: strolling through nature, his heart leaping whenever you pat his arm and point to whatever catches your eye— a picnic basket in one hand, you in the other. He can’t imagine a more perfect moment than this.

You fit right in with the surroundings. Your laughter, your being— the birth of something new within him, just as the earth births new life. He didn’t used to think much of spring, more of a winter guy himself— tucked away, cozy from the cold world. But now he supposes spring is pretty, pretty like you. 

You reach the spot, a large tree surrounded by patches of grass and the beginnings of blooms. A blanket is placed between the gnarled roots that welcome you, settling in and chattering as you unpack the basket.

He isn’t certain whether it’s the sun or you bringing him warmth. He wants you to be his sun, his moon, his entire universe. Or perhaps you already are. You glow brighter than any celestial body as you serve him portions of food from your favorite restaurant; how could he possibly know you loved this place? But he’s made it his goal to learn everything about you. 

Maybe he’s a creep. Should have admired your beauty from afar; afraid to interact with it, to touch it. He’s known to destroy lovely things, a touch from him pure corruption. But he couldn’t help himself. He’s selfish, obsessed, craves the vision that is irresistibly you. And by giving it a chance, giving in to his self-centered desires, a new type of beauty grows along with the changing of the seasons. 

Picking at his food while you prattle on about how nice it is, how you’re glad you guys are doing this, he waits for the perfect moment. One where he dares take the leap, dares take your relationship to the next level. Beyond the shy glances, chaste touches, innocent hand-holdings. To claim this piece of heaven as his own. 

He feels like a silly teenager; fiddling with frays in the blanket; eyes darting wildly to avoid meeting your own as you pull out dainty desserts to share. If he thought the years of hardness, years of confidence grown could calm the squirrely feelings and nerves, he thought wrong. His piece of frilly cake is left untouched as he watches; the way you savor your treat, savor this simple moment in time, savor life. He wants to savor it with you. 

Taking a deep breath, he gathers every ounce of courage he can muster as he zeros in on the frosting gracing the edges of your lips. Your focus from the delectable thing shifts to him instead, eyes wide as he leans closer, locking a stare with neverending pools of tenderness hidden behind a fog of weariness. 

“Ah, you have…”

“Wha-”

A collision of his lips with your own cuts off your mutters, time frozen, electricity pulsing between skin. 

His hand moves on its own, calloused fingers cupping your cheek, pulling you closer yet somehow not close enough. He runs his tongue to collect the speck of frosting, but the taste is incomparable to your sweetness. 

He’s dizzy in the head when you don’t pull away, but rather lean in to meet his advances. Lips parted to allow exploration, giving him permission to take, to indulge. Faint moans from the back of your throat drive him wild, the urge to take the sound between his teeth and rip them to the surface so he can hear them properly nearly overtaking him. 

He’s never been riddled with a passion such as this before. It’s not his first kiss, but it is his first kiss with you. A kiss with someone who truly matters, with someone dare he say he loves. One who awakens feelings and sensations he thought impossible for himself to experience. 

Sure, he’s basked in your warmth, taken in the comfort of your aura. But being engulfed in it now, he knows he can never go back. He’s selfish, he wants more, wants neverending. Never wants this instance to end.

But when you do break apart, heavy breaths and tousled hair make the two of you quite the sight, he doesn’t miss the twinkle in your eyes he’s been dying to see up close. A sparkle that invites him to lose himself in the pool of a neverending cosmos, a bid to which he would happily oblige. 

He tsks while pulling away, contemplating the flavor of the sweet and of you. “There was frosting.” 

You let out a snort, a smile forming at his attempt at a cover-up. “That was cheesy.”

He feels heat shoot from his cheeks to his ears, attempting to avoid the grin that illuminates your face lest he turn redder than he already suspects himself to be. 

“Tut mir leid…” he mumbles, unable to shake the feeling of fear creeping from somewhere deep within. A place that holds those dark thoughts, insecurities, things that can’t be covered with feigned confidence. But any idea that he may have muffed what he suspects to be his greatest gift from the universe is squandered when gentle fingers brush against his jaw, beckoning him to look in your direction.

“I like cheesy.”

Warm, willing lips pressing against his once more signify his success. He is yours, and you are his— everything and anything he could’ve ever wanted. Whatever was growing and budding between the two of you is now fully in bloom. 

Spring is most definitely his new favorite season. 

[superblysubpar]

potentially very silly thought that’s been on my mind for forever so feel free to ignore! but stevie has glasses right? but he never wears them bc he doesn’t like how they look/doesn’t believe he really needs them (spoiler: he does). imagine dad!steve’s little baby comin back from the doctor and needing specs :( and his kid is all sad bc they think they’ll get bullied and that they look silly, but dad!steve puts on his like “see? glasses are cool, bud!” and they wear them together <3

dad!steve harrington x mom!fem! reader

a How Sweet It Is story

summary: steve's kiddo doesn't want to get glasses | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

1.7kwords

Spring, 1993:

Steve rubbed at his forehead as he stirred the spaghetti sauce on the stove. Grace had fought him for hours, screaming and crying and throwing toys at him. He knew that all she needed was a nap but she refused, insisted that she wasn’t tired and wailed with a set of lungs that gave her Uncle Eddie a run for their money. He’s used to headaches by now though - too many hits to the head over the years and what felt like a constant squint to see things clearer, toddler tantrums were nothing when it came to the things that caused him headaches. 

But that didn’t mean he wanted her to wake up anytime soon. So when the loud crack of the front door handle hitting the wall pulled him from his thoughts he rushed out of the kitchen, hushing loudly. Whisper-shouting to you and your oldest, “Hey, hey, Grace is finally asleep!”

Nora kicked the wall as she tried to take off her shoes and coat at the same time, a flourish and frenzy of tiny grunts and zippers clicking together. Yellow dots on her sneakers lighting up and the yellow of her rain coat a fast moving blur - yellow was the color, or so he’s been told repeatedly by her in the last two weeks. He looked past his yellow blob of movement to see you slowly following her up the steps, rubbing your temple. 

Oh boy.

Nora was six. Opinionated and strong and curious. Sometimes she shocked them with her big ideas and her logic-searching questions, but every once in a while they were reminded she was in fact, a kid. A tiny human with too big of feelings and not always the right words to describe them. Right now, he’d bet money on some very large feelings bubbling up inside of her, and he just didn’t know if he could handle another tantrum. Her brown curls a mess like she’d run her hands through them too many times (a habit you’ve pointed out she picked up from him before she could walk), her face flushed and her jaw clenched, tiny hands trying to get her coat off too quickly and a furrow between her brows when it wouldn’t cooperate. 

Steve bent down to her level, hands reaching out towards her, "Hey cutie, slow down. Let me help-"

"No! I can do it myself!" tiny hands forming fists and a fury behind her eyes that would be alarming if she wasn't so small and cute. This was another new development - dad yellow is the color of the moment and oh by the way I’m a big girl now. It’s a lot for a dad to wrap his head around. 

Steve raised his hands up in surrender, "Okay, sure."

As you closed the door softly, Steve looked up and mouthed, "What happened?"

You gestured to your eyes, forming glasses with your fingers as you mouthed the word at the same time. 

His brow furrowed because why in the world would she be so upset about glasses? Heart breaking that she’s obviously incredibly worked up about something that isn’t really an argument if she needs them. 

As she flung her coat to the ground and went to stomp around it he snaked his arm around her waist, "Oh no you don't,” she huffed and crossed her arms as he squeezed her waist, “Nora, what's wrong?"

"I don't want them!" she cried out, stomping her foot against his thigh as he stood up holding her.

Steve pushed a stray curl from her forehead, faking obliviousness, "Don't want what? You gotta catch dad up here."

Her chin wobbled as she looked anywhere but at his face and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. How can she hate glasses so much? She’s six! 

Nora clings to his neck as he goes back to the kitchen, the heat turned down and stirring it once more as they sat in silence, her little huffs of frustration mixing with the bubbling sauce. He’d wait patiently until she wanted to tell him. You followed wordlessly behind, pulling down a cup for water and setting it across from him. Steve’s arm supported under her butt and he leaned against the counter to face you. 

Nora spoke finally, quietly and forced out of her pouting lips, "Glasses."

Steve rubbed her back with one hand, cheek resting on top of her head and sighed. She was way too big to hold like this anymore, and he missed it. 

"Baby, why don't you want glasses, huh? Lots of people wear glasses,” you questioned softly from your spot at the otherside of the counter. 

Nora mumbled into his neck, "Daddy doesn’t like them. People make fun of glasses."

Steve made eye contact with you over the top of her head, swallowing harshly and blinking away tears. A small and sad smile rested on your lips. You leaned your chin into your palm and sighed, raising your eyebrows at him. 

His heart dropped into his stomach as he set her down on the counter and cleared his throat, “I love my glasses, what are you talking about?”

Nora shook her head quickly, curls flying everywhere, a deep breath as crocodile tears fell down her cheeks. Voice wobbly and on the cusp of some big sobs ready to break as she spoke rushed and loudly, “No. No you do-n’t. Mommy, you, y-you told Mommy that…that…” she hiccuped but pushed on, “Losers wear glasses. And, and Jacob…hims said…he…people who wear glasses are weird and, and…”

As Nora kept going Steve clenched his fists against the counter. He’d take back any and every thought he’d had about glasses if he could. He could throw up from the guilt swirling in his stomach, that he was somehow a part of the reason his little girl was so worked up about something she needed. Something so tiny and materialistic. He’d fix this. He had to fix this. 

“Woah, woah, who’s this Jacob kid and what does he know, huh?” He kissed the top of her head, pushing curls from her face that clung to her wet cheeks.

“Jacob, daddy,” she sighed his name out, bored and exasperated like Steve should know while she hiccuped again.

Steve nodded, face serious as he snapped his fingers and you smiled from behind her, “Right, that Jacob. Okay, but babe, Jacob doesn’t know what he's talking about. He doesn't know the super special secret."

Nora's hands swiped at her cheeks, "Secret?"

Nodding he chucked the side of his knuckle under her chin and handed her the glass of water, "Super special secret."

Nora's eyes went wide above the rim of the cup and you bit the inside of your cheek as Steve nodded and leaned in, "Only people who wear glasses get to know the super special secret," he glanced at you, “Oh, and mommy’s.” 

"Tell me," Nora whined, fidgeting and tugging at his shirt.

"Well, the secret is, is that people who wear glasses are super duper crazy awesome. They can see better, like superhero vision,” the small white lies building as her smile grew and he spoke with his hands, “And because they can see better they can read faster and get smarter. They can see so good with their glasses that they can sneak into the kitchen in the dark for late night snacks and-"

You made a disgruntled noise from the back of your throat and shook your head, mouthing the word no, but tried to hide your smile. 

Steve grinned wider at you but Nora frowned, not buying it. Too smart for her own good as she countered, "But, daddy, you don't wear your glasses. And you said lose-"

"You're right, I did say that,” he bit the inside of his cheek and ran his hand through his hair before waving them around, “But that's because I didn't want anyone to know how cool the super special secret is. But now," he leaned in and kissed her forehead, "I can wear mine all the time because I'm not alone! We can be crazy awesome together."

"Really?" Nora looked up at him, wide eyed and hopeful and he had to blink back tears again. 

"Really, really," he brushed the last stray tear slipping down her cheek, "Go grab mine for me and we can head to the store and pick out yours together."

He lifted her and set her down and she raced away. Steve fell forward onto the counter, moaning as he pressed his forehead to the cold tile. 

He listened as you stood, holding his breath until he felt your arms wrapping around his waist. A kiss between his shoulder blades before he spun to face you. 

He pressed his nose into your cheek as you whispered, “Good job, dad.”

He huffed, not unsimilar to his daughter and mumbled, "I hate my glasses."

You hummed, running your hands up his back before speaking, "I love your glasses,” you laughed and kissed his jaw, voice laced with fake shock and wonder, “And why would you hate them? Didn't you hear the super special secret, Steve?"

Moved to your neck, he grumbled, "Ugh, I'm gonna punch that Jacob in the face."

A laugh bubbled out of you as you squeezed his waist, a kiss to his temple as you reminded him, "He's six, Steve."

"Right. Well. Maybe his dad then," he kissed your neck and removed himself as tiny feet raced back down the hall.

"Woah! You're right daddy! I can see crazy awesome!"

He stood up fully to see Nora zooming around the corner with his glasses on her face too big and dangerously close to falling completely off and you covered your smile with your hand.

He swiped the glasses from Nora and slid them up his own nose. Picking her up he smiled and asked, "Should we go pick out yours now?"

Nora nodded excitedly and bounced up and down once her feet were back on the floor, energy radiating off of her as he tied her shoes and zipped her coat. 

When they returned home, she nearly broke his arm, she was tugging so hard, "Mommy! Mommy! Look, look, look!"

You came around the corner holding his sleepy toddler and grinned, "Woah! Yellow! Crazy awesome!"

As he turned to close the door Nora beamed and shouted, "Daddy said the yellow was even more super special because yellow would help me see the cookies waay on the top shelf better."

Steve bit his lip as he spun to face you shaking your head, a smile twitching on your lips. He shrugged and stole Grace out of your arms with a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled, “Yellow is the best color, mom.”

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and I hope you consider reblogging my work to get it circulated to new readers - thanks for being here 💛

[reachexceedinggrasp]

I have a feeling you might relate to this or you might have even related this on your blog already, but I was just thinking of that Ghoul quotation water water everywhere and not a drop to drink

I think probably my favourite, maybe ever, quiet point of characterisation in a sort of villainous or Beast love interest is his or her having a poet's soul... whether that is conscious or unconscious romantic meditation. It's like Kylo musing to Rey when he says 'You have that look in your eyes. From the forest. When you called me a monster' I love that sort of wistful observation, especially because it evokes such potent imagery ('when we fought together in the forest and then you marked yourself on my face'). Or more literally something like Ghoul citing a line of literature, even when none around except for Lucy would know what he's referencing, it's for his own arrestment and amusement, this is how he sees/interacts with the world

I guess in that way, it reveals something new about their perspective on the world, even when they're somebody seemingly cut off from it - monstrous, othered, repellent, ugly - when they're able to articulate a certain beauty which other characters may not remark upon. It's sort of covetous in that sense, but I think it also sort of helps explain what might interest them about a Beauty, after all, there's something they long for and value (spiritual, aesthetic, existential beauty).

I thought you might be able to relate 🥰

Oh, totally. And with Cooper and Ben, specifically, which is a parallel I hadn't actually noticed until you've just pointed it out, we're being shown their sensitivity as characters. Not in the sense of being considerate, but that they're aware and alert to beauty and meaning in the world despite currently occupying a narrative role which might make us think they're simply destructive or nihilistic figures. And despite the cynicism they're both ostensibly espousing.

Cooper quotes or alludes to literature practically constantly relative to how little he speaks, always knowing people almost certainly won't understand him, and that's especially fascinating because he didn't make those kinds of references in the flashbacks. We could take this in a whole direction about how he created the Ghoul as a character to shield himself from the things he had to do to survive and is living within a meta-narrative deconstructing the reactionary anti-hero who overtook the white hat sheriff he used to play in his movies. The anti-hero he never wanted to be. He makes allusions because his life has become a story he's telling himself to stay sane. He's his own wry Dickensian narrator making asides to an imagined audience about dramatic irony and social commentary.

And an important part of his presentation to others before the war was painting himself as not sophisticated. Just a cowboy and then just a guy who plays a cowboy in the movies. He wants nothing to do with politics either in an interpersonal or broader sense, and disclaims any pretensions to being savvy despite being in a theoretically powerful position as a rich, well-connected major film star. I think he was genuinely naive, but I also think he often played dumb to avoid social conflict. He was complacent and his image helped him remain complacent. Obviously he was very willing to be confrontational when he saw wrong or injustice right in front of him (he goes after Bud Askins directly to his face about marines getting killed by shitty equipment, he challenges Moldaver when she calls him out), but pre-bombs he mostly uses his empathic perceptiveness and charisma to keep everyone around him happy.

In the wasteland we often see him doing the opposite and deliberately riling people up in order to gather information and assess or eliminate them as threats, but he's also only gotten better at disarming people when he wants to. As a handsome charming film star he pretended not to know anything, as a scary intimidating monster he pretends he knows everything.

What I'm wondering about as far as all this goes is whether Cooper always had a secret nerdy side and read all the classics as a teenager or perhaps while waiting between shots when he was working as a stuntman, or whether he wanted to fit in when he started to make it in Hollywood so tried to become cultured before realising that wasn't what anyone wanted from him. Or if he just spent 200 years alone and read anything he could find as a way to cling to his humanity. We know he was at least a bit intellectually curious before the war, because of his reading and retaining some article about studies on torture.

But YES, him quoting poetry and being so interested and insightful about Lucy, specifically is a huge part of how he's framed as a romantic figure. And he's already by far the most romantic figure in the show. If it were solely about his tragedy, you'd think they would emphasise the contrast between his pre-fallen and post-fallen state by stripping him of his heroic trappings, but they don't. He's actually more romantic post-'curse'.

It also gets me because he's an extremely smart, socially adept person who doesn't let others see him for who he really is both consciously and unconsciously on multiple levels and that layers of identity shit is my crack. He was a profoundly honest man who thought he was simple, but actually he was a glorious maze of contradiction and complexity waiting to happen who has now come into his own as a master manipulator.

[xf-cases-solved]

i've been doing my xfiles rewatch, but i've also been watching twin peaks for the first time with my partner (v weird that i haven't seen it before bc it's very much My Type of show, but w/e), and silence of the lambs was already my favorite movie. so since my personal aesthetic is apparently very specifically honed in on creepy and weird early 90s entertainment centered around fbi agents, here's a collection of random crossover thoughts i've had while watching these things, in no particular order:

-twin peaks, xfiles, silence of the lambs, except all the characters are shifted one plot to the left, so you have mulder and scully trying to figure out the death of laura palmer, clarice assigned to the xfiles division, and dale cooper having to make a rapport with dr. hannibal lecter

-separate thought: if mulder and scully met dale cooper, mulder would be absolutely delighted, and scully would want to put his head on a slab. this would just make mulder more delighted

cooper would be very pleasant to them both, but would find mulder's lack of self-care unsettling. mulder would be trying to talk about the case when cooper would interrupt him to tell him to try the mulberry pie and take a moment to savor it

he would also be able to follow scully's reasonings and would know all the references to scientific studies she makes, and would be like, "very clever! you're very intelligent!" not in a facetious way, he'd mean it genuinely, but then he'd still insist that his dream will lead them to the killer and she'd want to rip her hair out

-cooper to m&s, apropos of nothing: so how long have the two of you been in love?

-scully would not enjoy twin peaks. too rustic, too weird, too many affairs to keep track of

-mulder would love it for all the reasons she hates it

-if clarice and scully met they would get to know each other carnally, obviously. msr can still exist, but mulder has to be ok with being cuckolded by special agent clarice starling

he can watch sometimes, if wants ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-agent crawford would have one (1) conversation with mulder and would immediately write him off as insane and never talk to him again

-crawford and scully would get along fine

-clarice and cooper would be buds, bc even tho cooper is fucking weird, he would be very enthusiastic about how clever she is, and would talk her up constantly, and clarice would appreciate the validation and kindness (besides, she's pseudo friends with hannibal lecter, cooper's idiosyncrasies are nothing in comparison)

-hannibal lecter wouldn't be able to manipulate mulder, but he wouldn't be that impressed by him either. it would be a mutual disdain. they could potentially have a hannibal/will graham-esque relationship but eh

-as badly as a "quid pro quo" scene between scully and hannibal would slap, i can't imagine scully giving hannibal anything to work with. she wouldn't stick around to play games; she doesn't have time for it and would never be able to regard him as anything besides a monster

mulder would agree to take on the puzzles, and hannibal might give them to him, but he'd taunt him and send him on wild goose chases more than he does with clarice, bc mulder doesn't have anything he particularly wants, but he is vaguely curious to see if he can figure it out. (mulder WOULD figure it out, but only with the addition of scully's analysis and theories, not hannibal's direction alone)

-hannibal would not talk to cooper lol. cooper would figure out who buffalo bill is anyway, tho

-nobody at the fbi in the xfiles universe would know how to handle dale cooper. skinner especially would be very -squints- about it, bc he'd get results, but would just be so fucking Weird™️ about it, but in such a different way than mulder is weird

-the lone gunmen would be very sweet and protective over clarice. they would be very confused and vaguely unsettled by cooper

-clarice would be skinner's dream agent bc she would listen to him and value his input and rarely punch him in the face or hold him at gunpoint

-while i can picture clarice getting the hang of the xfiles, i have trouble picturing her in twin peaks (tho, do note that i haven't seen all of it so mb that would change)

-this isn't a headcanon so much as a v obvious observation, but they are all so fucking hot, what the fuck??

-final thought: dale cooper, clarice starling, dana scully, and fox mulder = dream blunt rotation

anyway those are some of the things i think about in my spare time

the end

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

All through season 3, I was looking for reasons to let go of Tech, but hope just wouldn't die and until the finale I still thought there was a chance Tech would turn out to be alive and well. Even with this hope I found it... odd... that the show skipped over the inevitable conversation between Omega and Crosshair with Crosshair learning what happened to Tech. So I wrote this just a few days after the season 3 premiere and posted it to AO3 since I didn't have tumblr at the time. I'm posting it here now, mostly because the past few days this blog has turned into one of my ways of fully processing Tech's death.

NOTE: the first two sections are scenes directly from the show. I included them to clarify the timeline of events and add some detail as to what I imagine was informing Crosshair's thoughts and remarks during the second scene in particular.

Revelation

“Crosshair!”

No. It couldn’t be.

“Crosshair?”

He must still be dreaming, stuck in the nightmare…

“Crosshair?”

The voice sounded just like Omega, but that would mean Omega was here. And if Omega were here, that would mean his brothers…

“You must be Omega.” He knew that voice, and Emerie Karr’s statement removed all doubt.

“What did you do to Crosshair?” he heard Omega reply.

“He’s recovering. I tried to warn him what would happen if he did not cooperate with the doctor….”

He kept his eyes closed, feigning continued unconsciousness, wishing he had never awoken.

**********

“Crosshair. I tried to come earlier, but there were too many guards watching me.”

Crosshair sighed. He had noticed Omega’s attempts to catch his attention when they passed each other in the halls, and had deliberately ignored her. He couldn’t very well do so now. “You shouldn’t be down here at all.”

“Well, how else are we gonna plan an escape?”

Where did the kid get her unfailing optimism? But hope was useless here – worse than useless. Best to disabuse her of any fanciful notions before she was crushed any further by the weight of disappointment. “There is no ‘we,’” he replied curtly as he sat up to face her, “and there is no escape. I’ve already tried.”

He wouldn’t tell her the details of what had happened: that the primary objective of his “escape attempt” had been to warn his brothers about the danger they and Omega were in. Omega hadn’t yet told him whether the message had been received, and Crosshair had no inclination to broach the subject. Believing he had failed in getting the message to his brothers was easier to stomach than knowing the message had been delivered yet still yielded this outcome.

Thankfully, Omega didn’t probe for details – she was still too focused on the prospect of freedom. “Every stronghold has a weak point,” she was saying now, before adding thoughtfully, “Maybe I can convince Emerie to help. She’s one of us.”

No. This had to be nipped in the bud. If Crosshair managed to teach the kid anything, it had to be this, the one crucial lesson that was even more important than learning that hope was pointless. “Not every clone is your ally,” he warned her firmly. “You trust too easily.”

Omega looked taken aback for only a second before resisting the lesson. “Maybe you don’t trust enough,” she retorted.

Crosshair wished he could think of precisely what to say to convince her of her errors in judgment, but his hand started shaking… Blast, he thought as he gripped his hands together, hoping Omega hadn’t noticed.

“Crosshair?” she said gently; and he knew she had noticed. Yet more proof that hope was useless.

He wouldn’t let her see any more. He didn’t need any more reminders of his shortcomings, his failures, his mistakes, his losses. If he couldn’t teach the kid just how futile it was to hope and trust, maybe he could at least convince her to stop doing things that would put her in more danger. “Just… go, before you make things worse for both of us.”

Omega hesitated only briefly before turning to leave, and Crosshair thought that maybe he had succeeded – but then she spoke once more. “There has to be a way out of here,” she said, determination adding a layer of steel to her tone. “I’ll find it.”

**********

“You’re awake,” she said cheerfully as she sat cross-legged on the floor.

Crosshair didn’t reply, only fixed her with a sullen stare that did nothing to dampen her spirits.

“No one said anything after I came here last time, so I think I might be able to keep visiting you,” Omega went on. “Of course, we’ll have to be discreet when discussing some topics…”

He couldn’t ignore her when he was stuck in a cell, and she was going to keep visiting… “Why are you here?”  he cut in sharply.

Omega paused mid-sentence, the slight crease that appeared on her forehead attesting to her confusion even as she gamely shifted topics. “I… well, I don’t have an escape plan yet, but I thought I could…”

“No,” he brusquely interrupted her again, waving his arm to gesture toward the hallway in an attempt to make his meaning clear. “Why are you here, on Tantiss?”

“The Empire captured me,” she answered in a low voice. “I think they want me to make Nala Se cooperate with them.”

Crosshair growled in frustration at the kid again missing the meaning of his query – he had to know, but that wouldn’t make the knowledge any easier to bear. He tried one more time, “What happened?”

Omega went perfectly still, and Crosshair’s heart sank. This is precisely why he had avoided asking about his brothers’ fates; but not knowing meant he could only imagine the worst possibilities. He didn’t let a shred of emotion show on his face, however, as his sister finally moved to reposition herself so she was no longer directly facing him, instead sitting in profile, gazing down the hallway as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

“We… Tech was going through some intel for Echo when he found out you were captured, and then he found the message you sent to warn us. We were trying to track Hemlock’s ship so we could find you. We knew Hemlock would be meeting with Tarkin on Eriadu, so we infiltrated the base to place a tracker on his ship. But…” she faltered, then everything spilled out in a flood of words. “Everything went wrong. We tried to escape, but there was an explosion at the base that left us trapped in a rail car with Imperial troops and ships attacking us. Tech was on the rail line to fix the car and he tried to make it back, but the car was breaking in half and falling off the track, and then the added weight…” Her voice broke, and she took a shuddering breath before soldiering on, “Tech fell, he severed the connection to the broken half of the car and he wouldn’t let us save him…”

The words were like shrapnel ripping through his heart. Hemlock seemed to think the interrogation droids were one of the most effective means of inflicting pain; the experiments were mentally and physically relentless, excruciating, exhausting; but this… This was true torture.

Omega had paused in an effort to regain her composure, wrapping her arms ever more tightly around her knees in an effort to stop shaking. Determinedly looking at the floor, she continued her story, her voice cutting through the void of Crosshair’s bereavement and bringing him back to the current situation with a painful jolt. The way she was rushing and stammering through her story, Crosshair could tell this was the first time she was really thinking about it, the first time she was allowing herself to relive the tragedy, reopening the painful wounds of this memory just so she could satiate his need to know.

He didn’t want to know any more – the worst thing he’d imagined had happened to one of his brothers. But he couldn’t manage to speak, couldn’t beg Omega to stop talking…

“Tech’s repairs worked, the car started moving, but we crashed and… I don’t remember much after that… I woke up and Hunter and Wrecker and I had all been bandaged up by AZI. Then Hemlock found us. Hunter told me to run, but I couldn’t leave them.” Omega’s chin was shaking so hard Crosshair wasn’t sure how she was managing to still speak so clearly. “Hemlock captured Wrecker and Hunter, and I tried to stop him, but one of his guards stunned me and I woke up on Hemlock’s ship.” She paused again; Crosshair, outwardly still and silent as stone, inwardly reeling from pain and shock, only peripherally noticed her bring her hand to her cheek to wipe away tears. “I had sent AZI to get Echo, though, so maybe Hunter and Wrecker managed to escape.”

The flash of relief upon hearing that Hunter and Wrecker and Echo might still be alive disappeared almost before Crosshair felt it, suppressed under the massive weight of sudden loss.

Tech.

Crosshair had always pretended to be even more annoyed than the others when Tech spouted off three datapads’ worth of information on the most mundane topics, but secretly he had been fascinated by how smart his brother was, how Tech not only knew the information but could seamlessly apply it to improve almost any situation. Hunter was the one with heightened senses, but Tech sometimes seemed even more skilled than Hunter in knowing exactly what Crosshair needed without Crosshair needing to say a word – and, being the most reticent member of the group, Crosshair couldn’t say he ever minded.

That was the thing about Tech: when it came to any given topic – including his brothers – Tech didn’t just know, he understood.

Crosshair didn’t have Tech’s skill in this area, but he knew and understood his brother well enough to fill in the details himself. Omega had said Tech had been the one to discover Crosshair’s imprisonment and the message, which meant Tech would have been the one to bring the fact to the squad’s attention, comb through intel that led to the discovery of Hemlock’s existence, and join the push for a rescue mission to be mounted despite the warning the message conveyed.

Omega and Crosshair now sat in silence for what may have been hours, may have been seconds – he would never be able to tell – before Omega spoke again. Despite the tears still silently falling down her face, her voice took on its signature hopeful note. “Maybe we can…”

‘Maybe’ was dangerous territory, and Crosshair – sick to his stomach, burning with regret and shame, broken and empty with no recourse available to him – could not let Omega continue. Tech was dead, and Crosshair could not allow himself to entertain the idea that maybe his remaining brothers were actually okay. ‘Maybe’ meant hope. Hope meant more pain.

“No,” he said, so sharply that Omega finally turned to look at him. The sight of her tear-streaked yet resolute face only deepened his agony. “No more plans. Can’t you see? It’s over.”

“But if Hunter and Wrecker escaped, that would mean…”

“NO,” he said again, glaring at the kid.

He wasn’t going to say anything else; but suddenly a sentence from Omega’s story struck home - we were trying to track Hemlock’s ship so we could find you – and his thoughts, his deepest regret, took form in words and slipped through his mouth before he could stop himself. “I told you to run. I told you all to hide. Why didn’t you hide?”

Omega’s eyes softened, and her sympathy made him drop his gaze to the floor. “Because we’re a squad,” she replied softly, “we’re family, and we don’t leave anyone behind.”

“Look where that got you,” Crosshair retorted bitterly. Look where that got Tech, he thought.

Footsteps sounding in a distant hallway seemed to remind Omega that she did not have unlimited time to spend on visits, and she hurriedly wiped her face again as she got to her feet. She didn’t immediately depart, however; and Crosshair, feeling her gaze on him, refused to look up.

“You’re worth the risk, Crosshair,” she said simply. “Tech thought so too.”

He remained as he was, staring at the floor, numb and broken and alone, long after she had gone.

**********          

“Crosshair? Are you awake?”

He gave a prolonged sigh in an effort to cover the fact that a tiny part of him was actually glad she had come to visit – it had been several weeks since the last one, and he had started to wonder if she had been outright forbidden from seeing him. “What does it matter? You’re going to talk anyway.”

She hesitated briefly. “If you need to rest, I can come back later…”

He groaned a little as he sat up – this round of experiments was leaving him increasingly sore, but he would never admit this to anyone, least of all Omega: she would spend the entire visit fretting about him. “It’s fine. I’m already awake.”

She regarded him for several long seconds before kneeling in front of his cell. “Sorry it took so long for me to come back. Nala Se kept giving me additional assignments. I think that phase of experimentation is over now. They don’t tell me much about what the experiments are, though.” She was quiet for a moment, before continuing, “I like taking care of the hounds a lot more than helping in the lab. Batcher is finally warming up to me – she doesn’t try to bite me anymore when I feed her. Oh, K9X1 finally told me a little more about the hounds…”

Crosshair listened as Omega continued talking about all the details she had learned about the species – their origins, development, life cycle, characteristics, and more – and wondered why he felt such a bittersweet ache in his chest…

Omega’s chatter reminded him of Tech.

Identifying the cause made the ache grow more potent, and Crosshair almost snapped at Omega to leave so he could busy himself with forgetting the tragedy. Over the past few weeks, he had thought he had come to terms with the loss of his brother – the shame, regret, and emptiness no longer felt like they would completely consume him – but in moments like these the pain would return in full force, and it was almost too much to bear.

And yet – right now, the ache wasn’t just bitterness and sorrow. There was a hint of solace, a touch of comfort, the warmth of nostalgia and happy memories, that took the edge off the pain. And, somehow, this comfort came from Omega.

Despite what Omega had said, he knew he didn’t deserve the risk his squad had taken for him. Tech shouldn’t have died for him, Omega shouldn’t have been captured because of him, the others shouldn’t be facing dangers unknown because of him. Knowing this, he wouldn’t let anyone else take such a risk for him again.

But Omega was feeling the loss of Tech just as much as he was. She had lost her brother, just as he had.

Crosshair wouldn’t encourage her insane ideas of the both of them managing to escape together; but if these visits made her current captivity easier to bear, he wouldn’t send her away.

Resting his forehead on his hands, he sat and listened to his sister.

[twosides--samecoin]

After watching the fallout tv show, I wish there were an au where Barb was the ghoul instead of Cooper.

She did everything to protect her family, her daughter, and (maybe?) failed. She set the world on fire and had 200+ years to live with the consequences. She knows vault tec intimately, knows the experiments, the secrets, all the ugly parts.

Barb smiling at Lucy's 33 vault suit and conving her to help, because she knows 33's purpose and knows how to use it to her advantage. She knows Lucy was born and bred to be a good little colonizer, and she knows the flaws in Bud's designs.

Just imagine the drama once we got the reveal. Everyone guessing how she became a ghoul if she supposedly had been accepted into a "safe" vault, guessing as to why she joined the hunt for the cold fusion. Loyalty to vault tec? To gain power to herself? Maybe she believes in some faction or another?

The season finale with Lucy following Barb because she is curious (just like her mother) and wants to know more about vault tec and, by extension, her father and, hey, Barb could use a new assistant since Henry--sorry, Hank--is no longer filling the position.

I like Cooper, but damn, I'd love to see how Ghoul!Barb would play out.

Hey gamer, thanks for the ask. Cool idea and you should write it, hit me up if you ever do!

Personally I have so many questions about Barb and her motivations and life before the bombs. She's one a handful of characters who remains a mystery by the end of the first season.

Barb's perspective is worthy of exploration. Her fate is unknown, aside from being on a roundtable of capitalists trying to ensure their survival, with the thin veneer of doing it for humanity (let's be honest, House, Vault-Tec, RobCo, Big MT and West Tek all have a vested interest in their own survival and getting ahead of the game after the war). Sure, she's doing it for her family, but a mention of Janey is also a bargaining chip for her to negotiate. Was she a lawyer before Vault-Tec, or in another career where one is required to form arguments with an awareness of what people respond to?

There's a blurring of lines; mother trying to protect her family, but also political and business savvy. She looked up at someone while seated at the roundtable and adjusted her Pip-Boy, perhaps listening to a radio frequency. What's her position at Vault-Tec, anyway, aside from being an executive? She's speaking on behalf of the people who pull the strings, but where are her hands on that thread? What relationship did she have with Moldaver, if the latter found the selling of her life's work personal enough to insinuate Coop didn't know his wife as well as he thought he did?

What was her life like as a Black woman in the pre-bomb Fallout society? Did Vault-Tec really set off nukes on the day her daughter was at a birthday party with Coop, or were they and Los Angeles caught off guard? What is the fate of their daughter - did she get into "one of the good vaults", or not? What if just Janey and Barb got into a vault together, but not Coop? What if Janey got into a vault, but Barb and Coop are both ghouls, walking the Wasteland? What if Barb is in Vault 31, or in a pod next to Mr. House?

[quakenshake]

Prompt: Hold Me Tender

In which a sleepy Chishiya somehow finds his way to your room at the Beach after a particularly rough game…

It was unusual to find any quiet at the Beach. To do so, one must sacrifice something very important…sleep. Though you couldn’t quite count it as a sacrifice in your case, as it was entirely nonconsensual. Who knew that in a world plagued with death and betrayal, your biggest foe to date would be insomnia? It could almost be considered amusing, were it not for the fatigue that stung at your eyes and made your stomach feel uneasy. You didn’t have to look at the clock to tell that it was well past midnight, and you knew that with your visa expiring tomorrow, it was crucial to succumb to unconsciousness. If only your stupid brain would cooperate.

It wouldn’t take a genius to determine the cause for your unrest- your anxiety always seemed to spike to new highs when he left you to play a game. At first, you could find the odd excuse for your increased dread and lack of sleep; you’d eaten too much that night, or you’d gotten too much sleep the night before. Once, you managed to convince yourself that your heightened anxiety was caused by ghosts, malevalent entities wandering unseen throughout the hotel. What a night that’d been. But tonight, you could only sigh with the eventual acceptance that you were worried about him.

So far, you’d done a fairly good job at hiding your budding feelings for your mysterious…friend? Acquaintence? You still weren’t quite sure what to label it, especially now that your feelings were evolving again. But your discretion would only get you so far in this place, and you knew in your heart that the first person to figure them out would be the last one you wanted to know. He was clever that way, and just cruel enough to act on it.

“Why did it have to be you?” you found yourself murmuring aloud, the raspiness in your voice reflecting the weariness in your heart. Of the dozens of people residing at the Beach, you’d somehow managed to fall face-first into feelings for the one who was as likely to kill you as he was to even glance in your direction. It was a truth that you tried desperately to shove into the pits of your stomach, but it somehow burned its way out each time you allowed yourself to imagine, even for a second, that your feelings might be returned. He was colder than most people realized, and capable of betrayals that you’d rather not think about. You weren’t entirely convinced that he had emotions at all, so hoping for love felt as unobtainable as hoping to wake up tomorrow back in the real world.

Sighing once more, you shifted your position in bed for what must have been the millionth time that night. The air was hot and thick with humidity, but you found comfort in pulling the sheets up to cradle your face anyways. Besides, you’d long ago accepted that your insomnia had won its battle. What was a little more discomfort if it meant another distraction from him? At that thought, an abrupt but dull noise made you jerk your head in surprise. Turning your head to the door, you realized that it was a soft but persistent knocking.

You frowned at the realization, digging your hand under your pillow to pull out the letter-opener which you’d stashed weeks ago in precaution. Chishiya was not the only danger residing in these hallways. Slipping the blade into the pocket of some pajama shorts you’d smuggled, you took cautious steps toward the door. The knocking had since ceased, but the shadows peering from the crack at the bottom of the door were evidence of the person’s lingering presence. Hand still wrapped tightly around your weapon, you tentatively turned the doorknob and pulled it open just enough to peek through the opening.

In a kinder world, his presence may have been a sense of relief. But seeing Chishiya on the other side of the door, dark and tired eyes baring deeply into your own, you found your grip on the letter-opener tightening. You wished you could ignore the pull in your heart- the faint but throbbing glee at seeing him there, alive, before you. But feelings aside, you were still able to recognize him as the threat that he was. It was a moment before you found your words, instead watching him blankly for a few seconds more.

“Chishiya,” you whispered finally. Your eyebrows had furrowed, partly in confusion and partly in worry. “What are you doing here?”

He paused for a moment, and you could have sworn that you saw his eyes widen briefly. If they did, it was only for a split second. Instead, he gave you a slight tilt of his head in a strange greeting before lightly clearing his throat.

“Could I come in?” he asked. 

It didn’t escape you that he had evaded your question, but this was something that you found to be typical for the man. He wasn’t one to give away secrets easily, and for some strange reason, everything was a secret to him. You worried your lower lip between your teeth, considering his request. Sure, he had been in your room before, mostly to discuss strategies and tinker with the odd invention. But never before had he arrived so late, and never in such an odd state. 

Deciding eventually that it would be weird for him to kill you after being out so late in a game, you gave a small nod and opened the door wider. It didn’t seem lost on him that you’d been hesitant to accept his presence, and you knew from the slight uptick of his lips that this thought amused him. He had learned very quickly in your relationship that you didn’t fully trust him, and at times it seemed he admired you for it. And as you eyed the hands that he had stuffed, as usual, within his pockets, he pulled them out and waved them, empty, in the air. You relaxed slightly at the gesture, surprised he would even care to offer you that white flag.

“You?” he asked, eyeing your own pocket-stuffed hands. You cleared your throat awkwardly as you pulled them out, revealing the letter-opener for him to eye with an arched eyebrow. You gave him a glance as though to apologize, but he simply offered you a genuinely amused grin. “Smart,” he muttered, and it made your heart buzz. 

“Care to explain why you woke me up?” you said, forcing an accusatory tone to your voice. It rolled off of him like butter, and he blinked at you stupidly.

“You weren’t asleep,” he said simply. This time, it was your turn to arch a brow.

“Your eyes are too bright, and your voice too stable,” he offered. “I’ve seen you after you’ve just woken up, and this isn’t one of those times.”

Choosing not to entertain his usual cockiness, you decided instead to slump onto your bed, rubbing a shoulder and rolling your neck to relieve some tension.

“Okay, fine,” you said, giving him a glare to show your disapproval. Asleep or not, you were in no mood to be condescended. “Care to explain why you’ve bothered me while I’m trying to sleep?”

To your surprise, Chishiya once again hesitated before speaking. It was unlike him. Sure, he was a man of few words who liked to cherry-pick what he’d say before opening his mouth, but it was never due to hesitancy. If anything, his pauses were always timed to perfection to emphasize a point or increase tension. Now, it seemed…nervous. In fact, Chishiya overall seemed different from his usual self. Before, you had chocked his appearance up to his own fatigue. He must have just come back from his game, and you were sure that it had to have been a rough one given his late return. But now, you began to wonder if the crinkles beneath his eyes- the slight give in his stance- were due to something other than being tired. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost say that there was a pained look lying in the cracks of his cool expression.

Eventually the silence grew to an unbearable point of awkwardness, and you shifted slightly in your spot, increasing the amount of room beside you on the bed. Chishiya only stared at your movements as though unsure of what they meant. Giving a faint roll of your eyes, you patted next to you with one hand.

“Sit next to me?” you asked. It was a bold move, sure. And in a better-rested state, you’re sure it was one you’d have never made. But your mind was bogged with exhaustion, and your heart was too tired to put up a fight. So instead you waited patiently as the gears turned in his head to catch up with what you were asking of him. The moment realization hit him was painfully amusing and you cherished the look of surprise that overcame his features. To see him so defenseless…unmasked…it was a treat that made you almost thankful for your insomnia.

Wordlessly, Chishiya took careful steps before positioning himself beside you. His eyes were trained forward and away from your own in a deep focus, and for some reason it brought back the memory of when you’d found a snake in your garden as a child. ‘It’s more afraid of you than you are of it, you know!’ It had been difficult to believe your parents’ words then, but it resonated so clearly with you now.

“As much as I enjoy the silence, you know that you’ll have to tell me eventually, right?” you finally stated, words surprisingly gentle. You watched his eyes lower to the floor as he swallowed thickly. You wanted so dearly to be patient with him; it was in your nature to tend to wounded animals, and it was clear to you now that that was what he had come to you as. But this was different- he was unknown territory, even for you, and you were worried that if you didn’t seize this moment to explore this side of him, it would soon be gone forever. You were debating repeating your words or maybe even giving up altogether when he muttered something under his breath.

“What?” you asked him. His eyes were still glued to their place on your floor, body tense as though he were holding his breath.

“Can you…hold me?” he repeated louder this time.

You blinked at him once, twice, three times. Surely you’d misheard? Your breath was hitched in your throat, all thoughts suddenly abandoning your mind. Could this be a trick? Could he have really come to kill you, and this was just a strange way to make yourself vulnerable to him? Your heart raced as the possibilities flitted through your mind at lightning speeds, each one darker and more frightening. The whole thing was dizzying, and you wondered for a moment if you would ever recover. But, evil as he is, he decided to surprise you one last time that night.

“Please?” he asked. His eyes had swooped over to your own now, and the pleading look in them was enough to dispel each of your previous theories, one by one. Right now, it didn’t matter to you if it was a trick. Before you could even move to wrap your arms around him, your heart had decided it for you- right then, right there, your only goal was to cling to this moment. To cling to him- or at least this version of him that had somehow wound up at your door that night.

You found his body to still be stiff as you encompassed him with your own, but it began to relax with each passing breath. You hadn’t realized quite how tightly wound he’d been; from an outsider’s perspective, there had still been an ounce of composure to him. But now, you could feel how frail it all was. Not just him, but the him he wanted you and the rest of the world to see. With him in your arms, you realized now that it was all hanging by a thin string, dangling in the grasps of the Borderlands. With this realization, you held him a little tighter, nuzzling your face against his shoulder.

Your movements were deliberately slow, as you wanted to be sure he was comfortable. As new as you were to all of this, you knew that he had to have been even less experienced, and you didn’t want to overwhelm him. But as the moments passed on, you were both able to relax enough to lie down and fully embrace one another. Your cheeks warmed when he eventually chose to pull you even more tightly to him, seeming to finally accept your presence in full. You returned the gesture by drawing small circles into his back with your palm, earning you the softest of sighs into your ear.

No more words were spoken that night, which was fine by you. Any desire you’d had for an explanation before was now long gone, replaced by the sole intention to comfort him. You didn’t know what internal wounds he possessed, but you wanted to tend to as many as you could, and you knew that whatever this was would likely disappear with the morning light. Instead, you continued to hold him through the night, feeling his breathing deepen once he finally slipped into dreams. And for the first time in your life, you said a silent ‘thank you’ to the insomnia which had plagued you earlier before drifting into your own slumber.

I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did! I took a long break from writing due to strep throat, but I think this is a nice way to ease myself back in. I'd really love to keep working with Chishiya's character, so if anyone has any ideas for future prompts, let me know! <3

[rreskk]

Mama's boy

Summary: How the tables have turned. Trevor learnt his lesson from having attitude.

TW: -Smut -Usage of drugs

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

Word count: 2976

“ – Your mouttthhh, so hot… Your web; I’m caught. Your skin? So wet. Black lace – “ Sung Trevor who drifted out of his bedroom, shirtless and holding a cigarette bud close to his lips. He stomped over and slapped your thigh, gesturing you to move over so he could take a seat on the sofa as well.

The song “poison” by Alice Cooper continued to be lowly hummed as you recognised the melody. He manspreaded and gave you little to no space, your annoyance going unnoticed since the cig was the only thing he seemed to be focussing on. Trevor was cross-eyed as he’d stare down at the smoke fuming. You watched him attempt some tricks, but of course, it resulted in him growing impatient and burning the bud against the tiled floor. He then wiped his face with irritation before giving him a small pout.

“I’m bored.”

“You’ll find something.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t right now.” He mumbled back, displeased with your remark. You felt his eyes burning Hell into the side of your head. Without any recommendation of ideas that would entertain him, you gave him an innocent shrug.

“You could always watch TV with me.”

Trevor gazed towards the TV with subtle curiosity, “What’s on?”

The channel was nothing special – by all means, it was broadcasting the latest cartoon that was inspired by celebrity drama. You weren’t interested but it was somewhat entertaining. The occasional comedy sketches made your belly chuckle, and when it did, you’d look over at Trevor to see him utterly disgusted. He scoffed a little bit and ruffled through his pockets to seek out – what you’d predict to be – another lighter. You could only imagine he was planning on getting high to defuse the boredom.

“It is a good show.” You tried to explain.

Trevor held a pipe and gave you a laugh, “No chance.” Then he began warming the glass with his lighter, the meth bubbling, making you feel uneasy.

His body relaxed when the substance spiralled into his system via oral consumption. He closed his eyes, feeling the buzz. You watched closely and when he went to breathe in another hit, you grasped his wrist tightly.

The grab caused Trevor to eruptively sit up. He looked between you and the hand with a confused grin. A few tugs wouldn’t fix it, and he was soon yanking around his arm to break your hold, but you weren’t budging. Nonetheless, the hand grew tighter – ensuring some bruises.

“The fuck?” He croaked out in confusion, holding the pipe in his other hand.

You remained speechless as to opposing a daring hand around his gruffy wrist. Although his tugs would send your body forwards and backwards, it seems as though he’s mistaken this as some roughhousing, chuckling lively at your challenging stare. He proceeded to misunderstand your irritation with playing until he was caught off-guard when you snatched his other wrist – restricting both mobility of his hands. And the pipe fell onto the floor.

Trevor’s gaze followed it and he wasn’t okay. He grunted, his fists clenching.

“[y/n], let go. My pipe.” He protested.

“Stop smoking that shit around me.” You finally vocalised.

His mouth twitched into a grumpy scowl. His face screamed his refusal, so your grip tightened.

“Let go – it ain’t funny anymore.”

“It never was.”

“[y/n].” Trevor warned.

“Just stop it, okay?”

“Let go of my fuckin’ wrists.”

“You are just gonna pick that pipe up and smoke it again.”

He laughed, “Talk about lack of faith.”

“Can you blame me?” Your words had struct him a bit, “I came over to spend time with you, not that thing you turn into when you smoke that crap.”

“That thing? Quit the shit-talk, [y/n]. I ain’t in the mood.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Don’t be short with me.”

“Pardon?” You encouraged his temper with a smile.

“I said – “ Trevor paused before his face coiled into a cheeky smirk, “Oh… You’re good. You ain’t fooling me, sugar. How ‘bout you quit clowning around and let go of my wrist?” His face playful yet his tone serious.  

You slyly kicked the pipe further away and freed his hands. He immediately went to reach for the drug – but you came prepared – snatching his wrists again, earning yourself an angry man who was trying to squirm out of your entrapment.

“Fucks sake!”

His inability to learn had gave you a light bulb moment. If he wasn’t gashing at your hands, he’d notice the way your eyes enlightened with madness – but instead, he carried on causing a scene. Which was an unfortunate decision since you were beginning to enjoy this tantrum. It made him look pathetic, easy, addicted.

“[y/n]! Fuckin’ let me go! Fuck!”

Holding a grudge, despite the countless threats, it resulted in you practically spawning him down against the sofa. Trevor was trapped underneath as you’d pin his hands above his head, your body weight trapping mobility to his legs as well. He was purely outraged – daggers in his eyes. His energy fell and his yells turned into muffled cries and grunts. Thanks to his stamina, Trevor could only pant to express the pure anger. He’d pant out your name and attempt to detain the partial conviction of his hands.

“Lemme go, for Gods sake. I hear you, I hear you! Just cut the crap, Christ…” Now he had realised this wasn’t rough-housing. He defeatedly relaxed his body and just stared at you above, sweat slowly dripping down his forehead from the fighting and withdrawal of the pipe.

You hadn’t of said anything in this 20 minutes of pinning him down, and it was beginning to rile him up again. Trevor’s jaw clenched and he fiercely tugged on his legs, trying to lift you up with just his hips (as is it happened before), it didn’t exactly work due to his weakened, worn-out frame.

“Fuckin’ speak, [y/n]. You know I hate the silent treatment.” He urged.

“I know you do.”

He scoffed at your ignorant acknowledgement, “You enjoy fucking with me, babe? ‘Cause I don’t. Now do me a favo – “

“No, I don’t think I will.” You’d cheekily smile, holding his hands up higher that it outstretched his chest, causing him to muffle out sweet groans.

“[y/n]…” He had closed his eyes to avoid giving you the pleasures of seeing him riled up. However, his face says it all. The way you only pinned him down more, the gradual exposure of his arousal would become more and more obvious; flushed face, whiney voice, growing urge in his pants. He couldn’t hide that one.

“This was the only way to shut you up.”

Trevor pouted, “Surely not – “

“You know it.”

“But – “

“Don’t lie.” You continued to cut him off with a smirk, forcing him into this vulnerable state where he was getting more vocal with this new tension. Whenever you dominated the conversation, he’d relentlessly whinge and squirm (but in a sensual way).

“I’ve been bad,” He had finally admitted, “I’m a fuckin’… I’m a…”

“Go on.” You egged him.

“I’m a fuckin’ brat. Piece of shit, I deserve to be beaten – “

“Like a?”

“Like a naughty boy.” He whimpered.

“You wanna learn your lesson, baby?”

“Mmm – fuck, maybe I do. Fuck… Yes, please.”

“Are you sure?” You whispered in his ear.

His body trembled when your breath managed to tickle the side of his face. Trevor released a strained whine as he nodded his head frantically, an erection lurking just in front of your lap, occasionally touching your thigh.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Beat me, hit me, shit! – Fuckin’ make me cry, ma!”

“Aren’t you precious?” You forced him to look up, “It wasn’t worth the trouble, hm? What do you have to say to me?”

“I’m sorry, ma…” Trevor lowly grumbled from the depths of his chest.

“That’s my boy. Keep your arms up for me, baby. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.” You let your hands fall as they fell to his face. Trevor tried his best not to abuse the sudden freedom, his arms jerking but he had the authority to restrain himself (for a while). Nonetheless, he was too distracted by the way you’d caress his cheeks and inspect his neck. He was getting used to this love before a hand striked his left cheek, a bellowing cry leaving his cracked lips.

“Fuck!” And it stung horrifically. His skin throbbed at the impact of your hand. Trevor wanted to question you, but after you had slapped him another time, the more he was beginning to praise your palm. The more he began to plead. The more he began to enjoy the burning pain it caused.

Then soon you were beating the living Hell out of his tortured face, throwing punches and slaps until his skin was threatening to bleed black and blue. You’d watch him laugh and moan, squirm and tear up. Trevor disobeyed your commands and lowered his hands, using them as pathetic self-defence to lure you in more. He loved when you broke the barrier between his arms and face, he loved making it a challenge. It brought him more punishment, therefore, more pain and bruises.

“Fuck, fuck… Yeah – “

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” You panted between slaps, “Should of known.”

“I love you so bad, ma… God, keep going, I deserve! Make me bleed, mama!”

Your fist reconnected with his cheek another, a streaming gush of blood seeping from his nose and staining his naked chest. You stopped for a minute but Trevor grabbed your wrists, giving you a begging face.

“Don’t stop, mommy.” He whimpered – extremely submissively.

You looked conflicted when seeing how much blood poured from his battered nose. It caked his mouth and neck, and when he spoke, it stained his teeth as well. Some spats would find themselves covering your hands and arms as well.

“Don’t stop.” He repeated.

In a matter of seconds, you sighed and raised your fist again. Trevor squeezed his eyes closed in preparation before you sent another punch to his cheek. He moaned, his head falling back against he sofa as he lifted his arms up again, sitting them above his head like you ordered him to before. You longingly leaned forward and pressed kisses against the skin you abused, ignoring how his blood would cover your lips.

Trevor tried to meet with you, his own lips desperate to feel yours. So you gave him the chance and you both grabbed each other’s heads, deepening the kiss with such hunger and aggression. He sat up from the sofa and crawled onto your lap, your arms holding him like a big baby. Trevor wrapped his arms around your shoulder as you were both mangled in this red, hot liquid. So much so that his hair was mattered, but it gave him this ugly charm.

“I love you –“ He murmured between hot kisses.

You both departed to gain some air as he’d lean in again but you held a hand to his chest, keeping some distance. Trevor gave you a panicked expression, his neediness overcoming the temptation. He tried to kiss you again and missed. He tried to kiss your neck, but was held back. He’d whine and bury his face in your chest, removing any original colouring of your shirt to be replaced with his messy blood.

So you stroked his hair and allowed him to mumble inaudible words into your temple. You made out sentences like “I need you” and “I wanna feel you, mama”, the usual pleads to get what he wants – the typical “mommy boy” manipulation.

“Trevor.” You recollected his attention and adjusted his body on your lap, your chests smothering each other.

“I wanna feel you, [y/n].”

“I know.”

“I wanna see you, real bad.”

“I know, baby.”

He groaned and pressed his forehead against yours, “I wanna see you.”

“Why should I let you?” You chuckled, your fingers massaging his sweaty scalp.

“Stop playing with me, ma… I really want you, so bad.”

“I’m not playing with you.”

“M’no, you are – “

“Trevor, baby,” You kissed his cheek, “I’m not playing with you. Sometimes you have to earn it. I’m not going to give everything to a naughty boy, hm?”

“But – “

“Do you understand?”

He refused to say anything as he licked his lips and stared down at your chest, ogling whatever he could find from under your shirt. This behaviour itself was affirming prejudice and you groped his ass, throwing him aside where he limped onto the sofa with a groan. You stood up before he eruptively lashed onto your legs, his hands begging for mercy upon your thighs.

“Babe!” Trevor cried out.

“Always begging, aren’t you?” You belittled when staring down at him on all fours.

“Please…”

His hair was being tugged brutally, small whimpers escaping, yet he maintained a serious face with glassy eyes. You forced him to his knees where he looked up with admiration. His eyes darted to your crotch area as you slowly undressed, revealing your wet pussy that had been enjoying Trevor’s submission from the course of the night.

He chewed his bottom lip and went to reach forward, but you snatched both of his hands and pinned them directly behind his headd. You kept your grip there, enforcing little to no chance he’d free himself.

“Take a good look, Trevor,” You opened your legs up as he was facing the glory, “You keep your hands behind your head while you eat my pussy good, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

Trevor’s lips quivered, leaning forward until he was breathing against your cunt. His knees were still dug into the floor, hands shaking behind his head (by your authority), and his tongue slowly extended to greet the utter wetness. He moaned when tasting you. A little tease turned into full desire as he dived into your sex and feasted upon your clit.

Justice was served to his own arousal since the define stench of your cunt on his tongue was enough to cause staggering pleasures in his own cock. You forced his head closer so he was merely suffocated, the muffling of his mouth feeding your sex the lust and neediness he portrayed from all that time struggling.

“Fuck, yes.” You praised when he was licking you savagely.

It was hard standing there when your legs were shaky with joy. You had used Trevor’s head as stability – whenever you felt a lunge in your legs, you weighted onto his pathetic figure that was praying your pussy. He, being a good boy, kept the promise and held his hands behind his head, even when he wanted to cuddle you during this heat. Trevor would moan, signalling this need of extra attention, but of course, you refused to gift him anymore (which secretly turned him on more and more and more).

“I’m gonna – “ He breathed against your cunt, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Aw… You’re such a cumslut, baby. I didn’t even have to touch you.”

“Please…”

“Such an easy little shit, aren’t you?”

Trevor panted, his tongue becoming sloppy. He enjoyed being undermined as it made him tremble.

“Let yourself cum, baby. Don’t slack.” You ordered when noticing his tiredness.

“It hurts – “

“C’mon…”

“I wanna touch myself – “

“Shhh. It’s okay. C’mon, I know you love it; not being able to touch yourself. It feels good, Trev?  I bet it does…”

He gained the motivation and took you into his mouth again, pestering a spot in which he began to thoroughly ignite. You gasped out a heavy moan, begging him to go faster as his tongue began working hard-labour to trigger a climax.

All while he experiences his own.

Trevor cruelly groaned when his cock squirted out semen from the overstimulation you had caused him. It evolved when his blood began to dry out on his skin, your pussy drenched on his tongue, your hands restraining his own, your dirty words – it blew him up, and he came. He came hard.

“Fuuuuuck!” Trevor murmured from inside your cunt.

You didn’t give him a moment to process the orgasm. You evilly pushed him further into you – mockingly.

“That’s right…” You’d whisper and examine the way his hands would shake as you hold them tightly against his damp hair.

“I love you, fuck – “

“Keep going.”

He slurped before it was clear that you were finishing soon. He grasped a safe momentum and eagerly slashed your pussy, his mouth inhaling every pleasure you felt until your legs were weak. Trevor finally sucked, and this was where you threw your head back and gasped.

“FUCK!”

Cum dripped onto his face, replacing the blood. Trevor smirked and invited your fluids into his mouth as you continued to orgasm swimmingly. He licked every last drop like a reward and leaned away to see you. There was a proud glimpse in his eye, cum running down his face, making him look ruined.

“You tasted to good, ma.” He whispered from his knees and begged to hear you again.

“Shit… Baby…”

“I love you. I love your taste, I love your voice, I want to marry you – “

“Trevor, shhh…” You pressed a finger to his lips, recovering from the intense orgasm, “Fuck.”

“Thank you for coming on my face.” He desperately tried to resist your attempt to silence him.

So with that, you rolled your eyes and embraced him into your arms. Trevor nuzzled his face into your neck and repeatedly asked for more cuddles as he’s “tired” from all the begging and fighting. He dragged you to the bedroom and lied on top of you like a kid. He rested his chin on your stomach and smiled cheekily.

“I like when you hit me – “

“I thought you were tired, baby?”

“Nuh uh… I just wanna hold you…”

[breckstonevailskier]

Key takeaways:

Walton Goggins was kept in the dark regarding the twist that Barb Howard was going to advocate dropping the bombs in the name of furthering Vault-Tec's agenda.

“Frances Turner plays my wife and she is just an extraordinary actor. I so enjoyed their relationship as it was revealed to me over time. We didn’t get all the scripts at once. I think we got the first three or four. There were conversations about where that relationship was headed, but I didn’t see it going there. I had an idea that something nefarious was afoot, but I didn’t realize that my wife was going to be the one who architected the ending of the world.” Howard learned of the plot while spying on his wife through a listening device planted on her Pip Boy. Barb suggested dropping the nuke while meeting with Robert House, Frederick Sinclair, Bud Askins, Julia Masters and Leon Von Felden in a flashback shown in the Season 1 finale. “If you really listen to what she says and the conversation in that room, as diabolical and Machiavellian as it is, it does make sense on some level from their strange, demented, capitalistic point of view. Let’s just wipe out the competition. And it was so horrific to hear the woman that you love, that is the mother of your child, your keeper of secrets, speak about destruction and in terms of winning. I still am wrapping my head around it. I’ve seen it a few times just because I wanted to see what Frances was doing and what Ella [Purnell] was doing, what everybody was doing, but specifically that moment between the two of them.”

Moreover, he's interested in season 2 giving us more flashbacks to explicitly show what happened to Cooper Howard between that meeting and October 23, 2077. We already know for a fact that his acting career took a nosedive after divorcing Barb to the point he had to perform at kids' birthday parties for alimony reasons, and Vault-Tec got him branded as a "communist" in order to discredit him. But the finer details are a mystery.

“I love how complicated their relationship was. I’m so curious where that relationship picks up [in Season 2] and how you begin to talk about the elephant in the room and, subsequently, what that means for the world that we’re living in,” Goggins continued. “The first scene in episode one of Season 1 takes place after he hears that conversation. I have my version of how much earlier that conversation took place, but I’m curious what happens between that conversation and when Cooper is at the children’s birthday party. I want to know that story. I mean – I know what happened – but I would think the audience would want to know that story.”

He's also interested in exploring Cooper Howard's dynamic with Lee Moldaver (or "Kate Williams", as she called herself back then), suggesting that perhaps Cooper was involved in some of Moldaver's activism, of the kind that would eventually lead to the formation of the NCR.

Another relationship Goggins also enjoyed getting to explore in “Fallout” was the dynamic between Howard and Lee Moldaver (Sarita Choudhury), a scientist working on cold fusion before the nuclear apocalypse who pushes back against Howard’s ideology who later leads the raider attack that ends in the kidnapping of Hank MacLean. “I had such a great time telling that story with her. I liked the dynamic between two competing ideologies about the world and I like to be proven wrong,” he said of working with Choudhury. “Personally, I like to have my beliefs shook up from time to time. And that’s exactly what Moldaver does for Cooper Howard.” “I don’t know how that story is going to unfold, but I would imagine that the layers will be peeled, and you will understand the origins of that relationship,” he said of the two characters’ relationship. “That’s all I can say.”

On the subject of the Ghoul's interactions with Lucy, and what's in the future for these two characters going into season 2:

In addition to being on his own journey to find his family, The Ghoul became a major influence on the series’ protagonist, Lucy MacLean, pushing her from a naive Vault Dweller who has ventured to the surface to rescue her father and Vault 33 Overseer, Hank MacLean, to a hardened survivor. “In some ways, The Ghoul to Lucy is just the person who delivers her on the other side of the Rubicon, the person who just bursts her bubble,” Goggins said of the pair’s relationship. “The Ghoul is a person that takes no prisoners. He’s not there to teach her a lesson until he’s there to teach her a lesson. He didn’t see her as a human being until he saw her as a human being. So in some ways, she has brought the Ghoul back, redeemed him on a human level. And in some ways, he has radically and fundamentally changed her view of the world and the way that she moves through the world. So, in some ways, they’re helping each other to survive life the way that it exists. It’s a three-dimensional relationship, and I really don’t know where it’s going to go, but I have my own ideas about where I hope it goes.” The end of Season 1 sees Lucy MacLean teaming up with the Ghoul to go after her father, who escapes Griffith Observatory in Power Armor and is headed to New Vegas. Shortly before his escape, Lucy learned that Hank was responsible for the bombing of Shady Sands, which turned her mother Rose into a ghoul. “Lucy and The Ghoul are — I don’t know if they’re a team — but I think they’re beginning to understand each other and whenever anyone sets out to define the truth, it’s never going to be easy, is it?,” Goggins said. “It’s going to be difficult, but it’s going to be a lot of fun and it’s going to resonate with people. I certainly hope so.”

[tinytinybumblebee]

Okay, just...imagine carer Cooper putting his little down for a nap in their crib, especially if they're whiny because they're tired, but they want to stay up and keep playing with him.

They just sit up and huff. The sun is still up, so why can't they be too?? A small trouble to taking care of a tiny one during the budding summer months; the longer days means 8pm looks like 4pm!

Cooper can't help but chuckle at their pouty face. You could explain it multiple ways multiple times, but a tiny one will still want to stay up like a big-kid!

He ruffles their hair/pats their cheek as he leans over the crib. The actor tries to think of a new explication but a better idea pops up in his mind!

Cooper leaves the room for a moment and returns with a new script he had been given a few days prior.

"You know, I haven't had anyone to practice this with. Wanna be my co-star?"

Which of course instantly has the tiny one super excited to help!!

Of course, this is a ploy because Cooper won't lie. This script is kinda dry in the beginning, narrator heavy. Perfect to help get a tiny one to nod off while having them not realize Cooper was basically reading them a bedtime story😌💖💖💖