#Smoothie x reader

[zephyrchama]

You happened to walk past the entryway to the House of Lamentation just as the door swung open. Fierce rain came down in sheets, obscuring the outside view. The person outside struggled to close their umbrella and stood in the doorway while trying to wrestle it shut.

Finally, Satan wiped his shoes on the welcome mat and came inside, depositing his umbrella in a holder next to the door. He was soaking wet. Water dripped off the bottom of his jeans and onto the floor. In one hand he held an unmarked lidded cup, and in the other was a very suspicious bag.

It was completely dry, not a single drop of rain could be seen on the outer fabric. It was also large and moving. Satan held the handles firmly, ignoring the constant shifting weight of whatever was moving inside the bag. Two furry tails popped out the top.

You waved at him. "Hey, Satan. Whatcha got there?"

He lifted the cup to his face. "A smoothie." He took a sip from the cup. Something meowed.

The two of you looked at each other in silence. Rain pattered against the rooftop. Satan lowered the smoothie cup and swirled its contents. "It's good. Blistering grape flavor."

You stared at the bag. A claw poked out the side.

Satan calmly stepped further into the house. Although, his movements were stiff, as if the calm demeanor was a facade. Every motion felt fake. He glanced at the bag.

"Well. I'm busy. It was good seeing you." He walked down the hall rather quickly and headed straight for his room. The door was pulled open in a hurry and immediately shut. Ten minutes later you received a text that said "don't tell Lucifer I'm home."

[flashbangstars]

Never a Martyr - L.J.N

Pairing: Jeno x Fem reader MDNI 18+ wc: 1.2k+.

Summary: you are a doctor working at the facility they are holding him assigned to watch over his healing. until it becomes evident he is not the villain they've painted him to be, and to him, you aren't the martyr he thought you to be.

Genre: smut, hurt/comfort, angst,

Warnings: Jeno's lowkey a dick in the beginning, getting hot and heavy in a prison cell, making out, thigh riding, swearing, and mentions of injuries.

Author's note: I seriously got this idea as I was looking at Jeno's Instagram post and wrote it in 40 minutes because I didn't want to lose the idea. I know I just wrote something for him, but this is a nice little extra with a little more spicier stuff than I had anticipated. I hope you like it and have been liking the new album, I'm currently obsessed with icantfeelanything and did listen to it like 40 times while writing this.

He nodded in acknowledgment and let the shirt fall from his shoulders. Pale skin fills your view, littered with bruises and scrapes. Pinks and purples dusting areas like watercolor. You felt your chest tighten at the sight. Your hands moved forward and tugged lightly at the wide bandage wrapped around his chest and shoulder. Gently unraveling it to reveal even worse damage.

The old bandages in your hands, dangling. Hands frozen just staring at the expanse of his back afraid of what had become of him. Breaking, your hands crumpled the bandages into a ball trying to take the anger out on them, turning swiftly and walking towards the garbage can. Watching the abused wad of bandages drop in your feet stuck in front of the small metal can trying to collect your thoughts.  Staring at your hands, the white gloves, the sting of the smell of antiseptic, your stomach churned and you felt your throat tighten.

The old bandages in your hands, dangling. Hands frozen just staring at the expanse of his back afraid of what had become of him. Breaking, your hands crumpled the bandages into a ball trying to take the anger out on them, turning swiftly and walking towards the garbage can. Watching the abused wad of bandages drop in your feet stuck in front of the small metal can trying to collect your thoughts.  Staring at your hands, the white gloves, the sting of the smell of antiseptic, your stomach churned and you felt your throat tighten.

Why had they done this to him?

Turning back around he had already been facing you. His features now hint at the beginning of an emotion. Walking forward, you dug your hand into your pocket and pulled out a white roll of new bandages. Tearing it from the package, your movements jagged, unable to completely tear the packaging feeling frustration creep up. 

A pale hand grabs the roll in your hands, grasping it and taking it. Looking up at him now focused on the bandages that should still be in your ownership. Tearing the package with a steady hand and then giving it back to you. 

“Thank you.” Your voice coming out quieter than expected. 

Beginning to wrap the bandage across his chest you dragged your fingers down the expanse of hard muscle making sure it laid flat on his skin. Feeling the light beat of his heart under your fingertips. Turning him around and securing it on his back. Finishing covering the wounds

Pressing your hand flat against the loose end to adhere it. You let your hand linger on his skin as if you were trying to take some of his anguish from him. Trying to provide some sort of reminder of care and human touch. 

“I’m so sorry” you muttered, sounding like a pin dropping in the silent room. 

“Why do you care” he finally spoke, his voice flat. 

Why did you care? Your brows furrowed searching for a reason, trying to rationalize all the things you were feeling at the moment.

“They do not care what happens to us, so why do you care what happens to me” he questioned, turned around now he angled his glare to meet your line of vision, dipping his head down. 

“This-this isn’t fair” your voice faltered. His gaze sharped and he lunged forward grabbing your wrist, your back hitting the cement wall behind you. Caging you in against the wall his face now a mere couple of inches from yours. You knew he knew what the repercussions of something like this would be. 

“Your guilty conscious is not on me, go home cry, and get the fuck over it, you are not allowed to be a martyr in this story” he spat through gritted teeth. 

His glare burned into you and your stomach twisted even more, a mix of anger and confusion overcame you. 

“You’re scared and hurt and you’re taking It out on me. If this is what you need to do to make yourself feel better go ahead and knock yourself out” you hissed. 

His eyes widened a fraction as if not expecting the push back and his grip on your wrist loosened. His face softened and a look of defeat now painted his features. Dropping his head to your shoulder, his hand released your wrist and slid down to your hand. Intertwining your hands slowly, allowing you an out at any time but also asking permission if he could. His breathing ragged in the silence as you felt his facade slowly fall. 

“Do you really care about me?”  He murmured. Voice small and afraid. 

“Yes,” you affirmed placing your arm around his neck and hugging him with your free hands, bringing the rest of him close to you, the thought of how he probably hadn’t felt care or human affection in months or years was swimming around in your conscious. Your eyes glued to the window of the door making sure no one saw what you were doing. Now this was a two-person crime, you were risking your job and well.. your freedom by engaging with him. But it was worth it.

Reciprocating, his hands snaked around your body clutching you by the waist and shoulder, holding you as if he was testing if this was really real. Pulling you closer you felt his lips ghost against your neck on the skin exposed, and then press against it. The hand that was on your shoulder now cradling the back of your head. Fingering threading into your hair and disrupting the perfect order in which you had it in before entering his room. 

Your breathing quickened and your chest heaved. Sensing the reaction he slowly pushed his knee between your legs widening your stance. now impossibly closer to each other. He was trying to consume you. 

Your dress shoved up your legs and his thigh dangerously close to where you desperately needed relief. His kisses on your neck had turned hungry leaving small bite marks in his wake his hands moving you to give him more access to your untouched skin. You had been scared to touch him as if you would break him, but he had no issues handling you as if you were his only. 

Your eyes rolled back into your head and opened again to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, leveling your gaze back to the hallway reminding you of the reality of things outside of you being pushed up against this wall. His hand now felt for where he could access what was underneath the dress you were wearing.  Succeeding as he slides the fabric up your waist. Pushing your underwear aside and finding what he was after. Beginning to move your hips back and forth on his clothed thigh a wet spot forming on the crisp navy pants he had been wearing. Watching, his eyes now sparked with anticipation and hunger as you became undone even more at his hands. A vast difference from the tight-lipped doctor who had walked in 30 minutes ago.

Your hands now exploring him as if he were yours, touching and feeling with the intention of keeping and taking. Angling your head you traced your lips on the shell of his ear and whispered with each movement of your hips rocking against him,

“We”

Up

“Will”

Down

“g-get”

Up

“Your”

Down

“Wings”

Up 

“Back.”

---

thank you for reading <3

[fanaticsnail]

Drinking Drabbles

Masterlist Here

Themes: Two of scenarios with a few one piece characters x reader, gn reader, suggestive in some, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, romance, friendship. Drink responsibly!

Characters: Rosinante/Corazon, Mihawk, Buggy, Sir Crocodile, Koby, Smoothie, Fukaboshi, Vivi

Notes: Trying to get my sparkle back. Expressing gratitude to Discordant's OP OC discord server for hanging out and suggesting characters for me to try for. Love the characters, and I adore writing for new ones to me.

Drinking with Rosinante / Corazon

Looks like: sharing a glass of wine over dinner, hearing the uproar of laughter at the head of the table - his brother cackling at a joke he told. Sharing subtle glances, pouring a new glass for one another while stealing a moment where your fingers brush together while reaching for the same bottle.

Also looks like: Sharing rum in the cold, willing your bodies to keep warm while caring for the sick child in the snow. The burn ignites in your throat, but the heat is makes the night pass in a more comfortable fluidity. The only blanket available to you is tucking the child in, but you both make do by sitting beneath the dark cloak. Shrouded in feathers, sharing those touches you longed for back at the dining table, the rum feels more like home now than that wine ever did.

Drinking with Mihawk

Looks like: a bottle of his private reserve label, uncorked by a methodological approach of a saber to the glass lip. Expertly decanted, rested for the appropriate amount of time, and shown how to enjoy the glass properly. He does not invite your glasses to touch, for fear it would disturb the wine with such a crude approach, but he does indicate for you to drink it with him in unison.

Also looks like: drinking straight from the bottle neck, poured by his hands and coaxed back into your lips by cradling your head and ensuring you don't spill a drop, before doing the same for himself. Anything to get through the voice of the clown at the table. He will have you closer to him for moral support, and will enjoy ensuring you are both equally topped up while glaring at Buggy for the duration of your stay with Cross-Guild.

Drinking with Buggy

Looks like: Something fruity, decorated with an outrageous amount of umbrellas and shaved ice dancing at the brim. It's too sweet, too bubbly, and too much all at once. Paired with a nasally cackle, lively music, linking his arms with yours and dancing a jig on the table, drink sloshing from the side, everything is perfect for the clown: the star of the show.

Also looks like: Aiding him to drink straight spirits as he sits on the bathroom floor, icing the bruises he's received at the hands of Crocodile and Mihawk while he openly sobs and apologizes for looking pathetic. A quiver to his lips, the swell in his bruised eye, he expresses his gratitude by silently whispering it as intimately as he can to you.

Drinking with Crocodile

Looks like: a circular short glass with a small cubic stone cooled by frost, drinking the most expensive and lush whiskey to ever be produced. Not dampening the flavor with water falling from ice, simply cooling it to enjoy over the palate. Everything is lush, filled with luxury, and likely paired with a cigar as he gazes at you with a predatory look in his beady expression.

Also looks like: Sneaking it in your clothes and fishing it out once below the cells in Impel Down, feeding him through prison bars and apologizing that it's not his favorite. He's looking up like it is his lifeline and an angel is offering him their tether to the great beyond. Those eyes that once looked like a predator on the prowl now humble themselves before you as he sits on his calves and drinks messily from the glass lip of the rum bottle.

Drinking with Koby

Looks like: Sitting at the table surrounded by Alvida Pirates, letting the pink-haired ‘chore boy’ fill your tankard from the barrel and giving him praise for it. Alvida chastises you for expressing gratitude to the smaller pirate, but you hush her with a crass joke and continue to dote on him while you drink. You offer him a sip from your glass that he throws back with practiced precision, causing you to laugh with him and invite him to sit with you for the remainder of the evening.

Also looks like: Bound in chains, on your knees and contained within the brig, a pink haired captain, once pirate from long ago, offers you a kindness of a drink while transferring you to Impel Down. He was not as quiet as he once was, but his kindness was still present as you knew it to be. You humored him by drinking all he offered you with your hands tied behind your back, as submissive as he was all those years ago. Your gratitude is on your lips, smiling as a drop is collected and wiped by the pad of Koby's thumb. He utters apologies, and you reassure him that you won't take it personally.

Drinking with Smoothie

Looks like: Sitting at the table, surrounded by her siblings, enjoying something a little on the sweeter side. Something mixed in with juices, a precious concoction that paired beautifully with the sweets offered at the table. Brushing glasses with one another, your eyes meet hers and she gifts you a rare, soft smile reserved for when he desires to showcase her sweetness.

Also looks like: Draining the life out of her enemies, blood gushing over her full lips and spilling down her chin, she bows her head to you and gives you a mischievous grin. Pulling up a cloth, you press the material to her lips and remove all blemishes of fluids from the human she drank from. You would rather watch than participate in this brew, but she enjoys watching you squirm as she presses her lips delicately to yours soon thereafter.

Drinking with Fukaboshi

Looks like: A room filled with tension, barely a look shared between you while negotiations between humans, mink, and fishfolk sit and discuss how to progress in a proper manner. Once decided, all raise their sake bowls and salute them with one another. Finally making eye contact with the mer Fishman, you both share a glance before pressing the sake to your lips and draining it of their contents to solidify your fresh alliance.

Also looks like: Tucked beneath the figurehead of the vessel you served aboard, sharing a moment with one another in the silence. All softness, all secretive, all in a world carved just for you, you both enjoy a swap of culture. He, a bottle from his homeland, you, a bottle from your own. Discussing the differences in textures and flavors, you both feel a pull in your chests as the sun slowly slips over the horizon.

Drinking with Vivi

Looks like: Sitting around a table, shrouded in darkness and surrounded by the vapors of sour cigar smoke, and raising your glass to your glorious leader a the head of the table. Bananawani in the corner, several of the members strike up conversation, and you and Miss Wednesday are no different. There was something in her tone and demeanor that seemed out of place, but you paid it no mind because you had secrets of your own. Drinking and cringing a little at the burn, you both drank and discussed the various interweavings of Baroque Works and where your missions would take you next.

Also looks like: An uprageous celebration for the return of Arabasta’s princess, drinks of all bubbles and honeys swirling in a variety of glassware. Watching as she flawlessly navigates the room full of her supporters, she gives you a look like the one not so dissimilar from your years serving together in Baroque Works. Catching you in the corner, she brushes her glass against yours with a hidden smile peaking at the corner of her lip: a silent promise that she will keep you by her side all the remaining of her days as ruler.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter One: Filly

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: You, a seasoned bounty hunter, team up with a gruff ghoul to capture a high-value target. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.2k

Bounty hunting is no walk in the park, but the rewards make it worthwhile. Your body aches as you trudge through the settlement known as Filly. Pushy vendors eagerly try to sell you their wares, with one particularly persistent one urging you to spend your hard-earned caps on dog meat. Politely declining their offers, you navigate your way through the bustling street towards the more reputable shops and services.

Having visited Filly a few times before, you recognize familiar faces among the locals. You exchange a silent greeting with the local repair girl and spot Ma June preparing to open her shop for the day, making a mental note to stop by later. As you approach a semi-functional Nuka Cola machine, you catch sight of a man seated in a chair. He's dressed like an outlaw from the Wild West, giving off an air of danger. His gaze locks with yours as you pass by.

A ghoul.

You've had mostly positive experiences with ghouls in the wasteland, but this one seems different. There's something about him that sets off alarm bells in your head. Feeling bold, you approach him after grabbing an unbearably warm Nuka Cola.

"Hey," you stand in front of him and take a sip. "I don't personally have a problem with ghouls, but the folk around here aren't too fond of them."

Smirking, he looks up at you, his sunken eyes and lack of nose more pronounced in the sunlight. Most people find ghouls unsettling, but you've grown accustomed to their appearance after years of interacting with them.

"That may be true," he drawls. "but I ain't here to make friends."

You offer him a sip of your drink, he stares at you in confusion. Taking it as a rejection, you finish the rest and toss the bottle aside.

"You look like you're either playing cowboy or you're a bounty hunter," you remark.

"What's your guess?" he snarls.

Leaning towards him, you place your hands on the arms of his chair. "I'm guessing you're here looking for a specific doctor."

"You're pretty bold for getting so close to a ghoul, smoothskin."

"And you're pretty bold for assuming I've never been closer." A small smile creeps onto your face as he looks at you curiously.

"I'm sure our paths will cross again. Until then..." Stepping back, you give him a casual salute and walk away.

The presence of the ghoul gives you the feeling that shit is about to go down so you decide to hang around on the outskirts of Filly. Leaning against a tree just outside the bustling street of vendors, you can hear the sound of raised voices and the unmistakable echoes of gunfire coming from the center of town.

"Called it," you mutter under your breath. There's no need to dive headfirst into the chaos when you can simply wait it out and observe the aftermath. Given the hefty reward on the line for this particular doctor, it's unlikely that he'll be an easy target. If he's anything like the other high-value bounties you've pursued in the past, he'll find a way to slip away, and you'll have to track him down.

Inhaling deeply, you take a moment to assess your surroundings, ensuring that your rifle and pistol are in proper working order. As you inspect your weapons, the air is suddenly filled with distorted screams, "No, no, no!" Looking up, you witness a spectacle that catches you off guard. A suit of Power Armor is soaring uncontrollably through the sky above you. Could it be the Brotherhood of Steel? This bounty just keeps getting crazier.

The Power Armor veers off in the opposite direction, leaving you to wonder what in the wasteland is going on. With the chaotic gunfight seemingly subsiding, you make your way back towards the town center. It appears that the flying garbage can and ghoul have caused quite the commotion, scattering the combatants and bringing an end to the firefight.

As you draw closer to the scene, the absurdity of the situation becomes even more apparent. Bodies, torn apart and scattered haphazardly, litter the ground. The locals, seizing the opportunity, have already begun looting them. You catch sight of the ghoul making his way towards a path that leads out of town. Without a moment's hesitation, you decide to follow him.

Quickening your pace, you navigate through the debris and bodies, doing your best to avoid the looters who pay you no mind. The ghoul moves quickly with a dog by his side, his sunken eyes focused on his route to the wastes.

As you approach the outskirts of town, the ghoul glances back, acknowledging your pursuit. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he comes to a halt and turns to face you.

"I ain't accepting companions," he declares, a note of irritation in his voice.

"That's too bad," you reply with a smirk, coming to a stop in front of him. Your attention is drawn to the dog standing beside him, looking up at you with a wagging tail. A warm feeling washes over you - you've always had a soft spot for dogs.

Kneeling down, you scratch behind the dog's ears and ask, "What's her name?"

"I don't fuckin' know," the ghoul snaps back.

You raise an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and confusion on your face. "Did you hit your head back there? How do you not know your dog's name?"

The ghoul rolls his eyes slightly, clearly exasperated. "She ain't my dog. She was with the doctor. Along with some vault dweller."

A surge of curiosity courses through you at the mention of the doctor and the vault dweller. This situation just keeps getting more intriguing. You stand up, still keeping an eye on the ghoul.

“A vault dweller?”

He begins to draw his gun and points it at you, “Give me a reason not to shoot your ass. You’re startin’ to annoy me.”

“Calm down, beef jerky.” Taking a step back, you maintain a calm demeanor. “I think we can help each other out.”

The ghoul's grip on his gun tightens, but he hesitates, seemingly intrigued by your proposition. "I don't need help.”

“Oh but yes, you do.” You pull out a small vial filled with amber liquid, capturing his attention. “This dog will do a great job tracking its owner but I’ll do an even better job of making sure you don’t go feral. No offense but you seem pretty old - even for a ghoul.”

The ghoul's grip on his gun loosens, and he seems to consider your words. After a moment, he reluctantly lowers his weapon. "Fine," he grumbles. "But don't think I owe you anything."

You nod with a small smile, "Fair enough."

[stuffeddeer]

ddeeeEEER 😭 you have me clutching my chest dying from ur fluff good LORD

i'll be the first to ask for the rest of what you wrote post that shit NOW this is a threat/j

ouggggh ur dazai makes me want to squash him and blend him up and smash him into bits

butt anywho happy thanksgiving!!

-🩵

uefiuhseufh THANK YOU 🩵ANON!!!! i wrote these literally seconds after "pt1" but didn't wanna clog ppls feeds w thousands of kissing hcs um oops

PT1

(not necessary to read, just more silly ideas)

15!Dazai who, whether it's you who leans in first or him, gets so overwhelmed. The rush of emotions and warmth he's never been shown causes him to panic, which makes him push you away! (Quite harshly at that..) He doesn't mean to but omg Dazai is just SO not used to affection and comfort that the warm fluttery feeling in his chest makes him sick to his stomach. Processing these feelings makes him feel flustered and sheepish and AHH!!!!! It's too much!!! He'd avoid you so horribly after he's so stupid, ducking into other hallways or using his hands to physically cover his face (very obvious to poor you!!) all so he didn't have to acknowledge the fact that you made him feel different. It'd probably take Chuuya yelling at him for his stupidity for him to realize he really really likes you! And that feeling is actually good!!!

PM!Dazai who's cocky and knows exactly what he wants; He's the demon prodigy for a reason. This Dazai is an asshole who kisses you without warning - no "I'm interested in you" or slow lean in or anything - just cuts you off with a long kiss that takes your breath away before he moves back. He'll tease you for being "so in love with him, as many are," before waving his hand dismissively and leaving. Dazai is a total jerk so when you ask if this means he likes you, he denies it: just saying that he knew you liked him and thought he'd be generous and give you your first and last kiss with him. Dazai flaunts a pretty smile and leans suspiciously close as he says this before immediately leaving under the guise of some meeting he's definitely lying about. He'd start doing things to draw your attention to his lips after this just to mess with you - putting on chapstick and the like. PM!Dazai would love to see you get frustrated and annoyed with his antics but not do anything, knowing it'd only make it worse. grrr biting scratching clawing i need him gone

ADA!Dazai who's anxious. He's so totally in love with you and is overwhelmed by it all! His eyes sting and his throat turns dry, a sign that he feels like crying, but he just stands there at the sight of you. You 'd be the one to initiate it first, an anxious look on your face as you pull back to a ghostly white Dazai standing frigid. The thought of oh fuck, did I overstep? leads to you apologize profusely. Once he finally gets his breath back (you feeling downright horrible with every moment he's silent), Dazai practically hangs off of you, pathetically gripping onto your arm with both of his and holding you close. You ask if this means he likes you back but he still can't speak, just burying his head into the crook of your neck. Give him time, he's still working through everything!!!! It's been a long time since he has actually liked someone, especially so deeply, so it's hard for him to come to terms with it :( He just wants to be near you but he can't find the words to express that just yet. Being vulnerable is so scary!

Beast!Dazai who gets horrifically drunk. How else could he manage all of the things he has to go through? Just knowing he could never confide in Oda like he once has leads him to throwing back drink after drink... Until he ends up on your doorstep. He'd wanted to keep you at arms length, to stop you from following him down the dark road he was paving, but with a few too many drinks in him he found he didn't care. You let him in right away, more than happy to pour him a glass of water and let him crash on your couch for the night. Before you could even turn towards your kitchen, he pulled you in for a passionate kiss, full of love and need and every feeling he has felt for you across lifetimes. The kiss would last a minute or so before Dazai would pull away, hugging you tightly and making you promise him that you'd never leave him, even if he makes horrible decisions and drives everyone else away — you are his, remember? In every life.

[cyberneticfallout]

Pairing: The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You, a seasoned bounty hunter, team up with a gruff ghoul to capture a high-value target. (Title is a play on Beauty and the Beast)

Content Warning: Eventual smut, mild violence, language, spoilers for show

"You're pretty bold for getting so close to a ghoul, smoothskin."

“And you're pretty bold for assuming I've never been closer."

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Seven: The GoverMint

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: Two men bring you into custody and some new information comes to light. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventually more smut, language, canon-typical violence, chem/alcohol use, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 2.1k

"What? Never had mornin’ wood before, Smoothie?” The Ghoul snickers as you shake your head in confusion. While yes, it’s a fairly natural thing to occur, you weren’t exactly expecting to see his hard-on first thing.

"Alright, love birds,” the man starts, causing both of you to glare at him. “Destroying a legitimate business? That's illegal 'round these parts.”

You exchange a quick glance with The Ghoul, both of you clearly annoyed by the man calling you ‘love birds’. "First of all, we are not together. And - will you please adjust yourself, Beef Jerky - second of all, this... was a legitimate business? Says who?” you ask, gesturing vaguely around the room as The Ghoul rolls his eyes and slowly covers himself with his hat.

"The government," the man proudly declares before abruptly striking The Ghoul in the face with his rifle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let's not get crazy here," you interject, raising your hands in protest, realizing that two against one isn't a smart choice at the moment. Your head is throbbing from the alcohol you drank the night before, leaving you in no condition to fight back.

“Don’t worry, miss. Your husband is okay, but you two gotta face justice,” the man replies. You huff a frustrated sigh at the continued assumption that you two are a couple. Looking the man over, you notice a crudely made sheriff badge with the name Troy etched onto it.

“May I call you Troy?” you ask, pointing to his badge. He gives you a smile, indicating it’s okay. “Now, Troy, this man right here isn’t my husband. We are just traveling companions who happened to come across this already destroyed business.”

Troy sighs, “We ain’t stupid, ma’am. We gotta bring ya both in. Rex!” He shouts at the other man, “Tie ‘em up and we’ll move out once that one wakes back up.”

Shortly after, The Ghoul wakes up and the four of you are on the move towards the supposed government. You keep stealing glances at him, hoping for any sign of a plan, but he remains silent and focused on the path ahead. The restraints around your wrists chafe against your skin, causing irritation. These two men seem dumb as hell but the one sure knows how to use rope.

Finally, the four of you approached a building sporting a sign that proudly proclaims "The GoverMint”. The Ghoul shot you a glance, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes in exasperation. The sight of the misspelled sign only reinforced your growing realization that you were dealing with a bunch of idiots. The building itself appeared run-down and neglected, a stark contrast to the grandeur one might expect from an actual government facility. The paint was peeling, the windows were dirty, and the overall atmosphere exuded an air of disarray. As you were escorted inside by Troy and Rex, you couldn't shake the feeling that this whole situation was more absurd than dangerous.

"Well, shit!" a hefty man exclaims, sitting at a table with a plate of food. "I heard it was a ghoul that messed up that Super Duper Mart. Nobody told me it was the ghoul."

"Why, Sorrel Booker," The Ghoul smirks.

You silently mouth to The Ghoul, "You know this guy?"

"You boys know who you just brought in? This sumbitch right here used to be the best bounty hunter to ever shoot a man in the ass," Sorrel chuckles as the two men usher you to sit in front of him. "Kids these days don’t know their goddamn history."

"Say, you got a needle and thread?” The Ghoul casually asks. “I think I got some in my bag, actually. Would you mind?"

Sorrel hesitates for a moment, eyeing him, but ultimately nods his head. Troy hands over the needle and thread, and The Ghoul's restraints are untied. With a calm demeanor, he picks up a perfectly cut finger and begins sewing it onto his missing one. You can't help but watch in disbelief, your mouth agape, trying to make sense of the bizarre scene unfolding before you. What the fuck is happening right now?

"Whose finger is that?!" You blurt out unintentionally, causing silence to take over the room.

Sorrel takes a good look at you as he spits out a piece of meat and puts it in a bowl labeled 'cysts’, turning his attention to the man next to you. “200 years. I don’t know what keeps you going. Maybe you just like the feeling of that good old California sunshine on your wrinkly-ass face. Or maybe you’re still looking for her. Maybe not though... this your girlfriend or somethin’?"

"You really think I’d shack up with some smoothskin? She ain’t even that pretty.” The Ghoul retorts, ignoring your offended look as he scrunches his newly sewn finger to make sure it's functional. “And I sure as hell ain't still alive so that I can have unintelligent conversations with dipshits like yourself."

“Mind your fucking mouth. That’s the president of the government you’re talking to.” Troy speaks up.

“Oh, you’re president now?” He raises a brow, “In that case, I am hearing a whole lot of chatter about some woman. Name of Moldaver. They call her the Flame Mother.”

This new information about a woman catches you off guard, as it's the first time you've heard about her on this journey. While the two men continue their conversation, you find yourself racking your brain as the mention of Moldaver triggers a memory in your mind. You vaguely recall whispers in the air about a woman who leads a group of people up in the mountains. Tension begins to build in the room as you find yourself deep in thought, analyzing her possible connection to the bounty you were originally after. You notice a shift in the dynamics between the men after The Ghoul taunts Troy about killing his father in Filly. It seems to have struck a nerve and Rex is ordered to take away Troy's weapons.

“Take him out back and feed him to the hogs,” Sorrel's harsh order snaps you out of your thoughts. "And this one might be good for the local brothel."

"Oh, hell no," you mutter as Troy pulls you up to take you away. Determined to fight back, you struggle to release yourself from his grasp, refusing to be taken without a fight. Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, causing chaos in the room. The Ghoul, seizing an opportunity, managed to grab Rex’s pistol and shot him.

With the distraction, you act quickly. In a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, you headbutt Troy, feeling the sharp pain of impact, and then tackle him to the ground. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotions and a fierce desire for survival, you unleash a flurry of tied fists striking his face repeatedly. Blood splatters across your face as you continue to pummel him. He’s surely dead by now but you can't stop - there is no way you are going to a brothel against your will.

Feeling a warm hand touch your shoulder, you are startled out of your frenzy. Looking up, you lock eyes with The Ghoul, who is standing over you with a small crooked smile playing on his lips. There is a glint of amusement in his gaze, as if he is savoring this violent side of you. His presence and subtle expression of approval offer a strange sense of validation for you.

“Goddamn it,” Sorrel exclaims in frustration, throwing his fork onto the table. As you slowly rise from the man you just bludgeoned to death, The Ghoul starts untying the rope around your wrists. Despite gloves covering his hands again, you find solace in his gentle touch as he works to release you from your bindings. Once finished, he strides over to the wall littered with wanted posters and tears off a sketch of a woman.

“I got one question for you, ol’ buddy. Why do you have this picture on your wall?” The Ghoul inquires, holding up the sketch.

“That’s Moldaver. Why?” Sorrel responds, a sense of curiosity evident in his voice.

“Well, that’s not how I remember her, is all,” He remarks cryptically.

“Yeah? Well, how do you remember her?”

The Ghoul doesn’t say a word and without further explanation he leads you both outside. The two of you stand facing each other in silence. He lets out a sigh and reaches for a dirty rag in his pocket, handing it to you without a word. You take it and begin to clean yourself up but it’s proves pointless as it’s just smearing the blood all over.

"Well, that didn't do shit," he remarks as he takes the rag back from you. His gaze scans the area until he spots a barrel of grimy water, prompting him to grab you by the base of your hair and drag you over to it. As he dunks your face into the water, you shout in protest, the shock of the cold liquid causing you to react instinctively. He lifts your head up and looks at you, his expression unreadable.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Do you just like waterboarding women in your free time?!" you yell angrily, spitting excess water onto his face.

"You're clean now," he states simply as he gestures to the now wet and cleansed skin on your face. “Come on, let’s get goin’.”

“Wait, you still want me around?” you question, surprised by his response.

“I saw you back there. Proved useful,” he acknowledges, wiping the spit off his face with a nonchalant expression. He starts walking away, and you instinctively follow his lead, the rhythm of his steps guiding you away from the ‘government’.

Trailing behind him for most of the day, you're left with nothing but the echo of your dream still etched in your mind. The surreal scene of a nuclear explosion as he touched you intimately felt oddly real, even in its absurdity. Your eyes study his form, his posture, the way he moves - every detail etching itself into your consciousness. He dunked you in cold, murky water, and yet here you are, daydreaming what it might actually feel like to have his body pressed against you.

Unknown to you, The Ghoul is wrestling with his own inner turmoil. The dream he experienced replays in his mind like a haunting loop, stirring up emotions he'd rather keep buried. He finds himself irrationally angry with you for making him feel so vulnerable, even though he knows it was just a dream. His mind is now filled with thoughts of you - the curves of your body, the softness of your lips, the gentle touch of your hands.

He feels the weight of your gaze on him, and it unnerves him more than he'd like to admit. His fingers clench tighter around the hunting knife hanging on his belt, a physical manifestation of the internal struggle he's experiencing. He doesn't dare glance back at you, afraid that the turmoil in his eyes might give away more than he intends.

"Will you stop starin'?" His abrupt words cut through the tension, causing you to freeze in your tracks. Embarrassment washes over you as you realize he's aware of your lingering gaze. Attempting to play it off nonchalantly, you open your mouth to respond, but only incoherent sputtering and mumbled words escape. He turns to face you, an intense gaze piercing you like a bullet.

“I am not staring,” you manage to assert, a hint of defensiveness in your tone. “I’m just focused on the path ahead.”

“Listen up, Smoothie. I ain't keepin' you 'round 'cause we're best buds. It's 'cause you're damn good at spillin' blood. So don't be gettin' any ideas about you and me sharin' heartfelt moments or takin' strolls in the wasteland." He snaps.

“What the fuck are you going on about?” You laugh, but then a realization dawns on you. "Oh, hang on.… Am I the reason your 'little friend' made an appearance this morning?"

“Now what do you mean litt-“ He cuts himself off abruptly, “Don’t flatter yourself, Smoothie. I ain’t one for sentimentality or... entanglements.”

A small smile begins to tug at the corners of your lips, a reaction that visibly irks him, his annoyance evident in the way his features tighten. You can’t tell if he's contemplating strangling you or something even worse. Either way, there's a subtle thrill in knowing that you're the reason he’s so worked up. You approach him with a spring in your step and pat his chest, earning a fierce glare in return.

"Don't fret, sweetheart," you grin, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you use the endearing term, "I'll just pretend this never happened. Now, how about we find a spot to camp for the night?"

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation @coolrobloxkid28 @cheshirecat484 @capan-deveraux2 @rebelmarylou

[wannaeatramyeon]

I‘m having the cramps of my life, so anything comforting with Jake? Thanks author >_<

This isnt really that comforting but this is sorta sweet and fluffy at least. Damn, hope your cramps are over soon anon!

Jake Kim x Reader: Bubble Tea

G/N. Sweet + fluffy.

Jake keeps the flirting surface level.

Innocent enough for you to just roll your eyes and scoff if you saw, but enough for the barista to fall completely for his charms.

He's cool and sweet and friendly without being creepy. Slipping in some self deprecation in the brief exchange. Notes the name badge pinned on their apron and remembers to use it when he says thank you after ordering your favourite. An extra cold, extra sugary monstrosity that he has committed to memory.

Then when it's rung up, Jake pays for your bubble tea.

....Not before asking for a discount with a cheeky wink, and he's rewarded for his efforts with 50% off and a loyalty card as the barista simpers behind the counter.

(He isn't sure his charm is worth that much and schools the surprise off his face. Either way, he's not going to complain.)

Even though it's still grossly overpriced and his wallet is mostly full of lint and he has waited in line for 30 minutes, when he sees you in the park at the usual meeting spot, he hands it over to you with a smile.

Because after the first sip, you let out a sigh and grin at him, telling him he's the best, and he forgets that this one extortionate bubble tea means two more evenings of cup noodles.

To be honest, as long as you keep looking at him like that, he wouldn't mind eating cup noodles for the rest of his life.

You offer him a taste and he shakes his head, instead signalling to your lips.

You lean in and Jake meets you halfway. Giving you a smooch, loud and a little obscene and tells you that you're sweet enough for him.

[magmdnv]

warnings: forced(?) marriage, slight nsfw, a lil steamy in one of the scenarios, and flashing lights!

[kit-williams]

I want to use the Emperor on his golden throne to fry an egg. I’ll be butchered by the Custodes within seconds but it’ll be worth. Emperor fried egg. :)

If the egg ain’t cooked to perfection then I’m using my final breath to Yeet a second egg at his divine corpse/body/being.

So I remember getting this ask and being very confused... but I put this on the backburner for when I would get around to writing yandere custodes and the necromundan scum, that one of them decided to bring home, named smoothie.

@sculptorofcrimson this is your fault/this is the funny one (again my knowledge of the golden boys is very limited/I struggle to write them)

And you lot get to benefit from it @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog @thevoidscreams @barn-anon

thank you to @squishyowl for the dividers

Smoothie did not like it here... the clean empty inner hallways left nothing for her to scavenge... no place to get food or drinkable water for miles. It was two days before her golden shadow found her dehydrated as she slipped away from him when he had a chance. Adonis only collected her so soon as they were about to release a small swarm of hormagaunts into the imperial palace for practice and Adonis did not like how easily she could slip from his grasp.

Like recently... Adonis felt his fingers clench and unclench as Nicodemus had jested even at how he must have picked up a mindwiped assassin with how easily she could vanish from his grip. But there was something about her that satiated the itch behind his eyes... it sated the desire to feel a crumb of affection back.

Smoothie crawled through the vents moving on padded knees and wearing thicker gloves as she looks around unable to make marks or else they'll figure out where she's going. Everything seemed to narc on her if she tried to make herself comfortable add her own touch to this gawken gawdy golden glitter glamhouse! She looks around as her body starts to tingle and she is certain that she's getting closer to the radiation.

It makes her body tingle... her nose bleed and she needs to get a bit closer to the source till she feels her teeth itch and then she's in the right spot to cook the eggs she stole from the kitchen. Not like she was gonna live very long anyway and if the glamshow that is Donnie and his brothers just casually relaxing with an open source of radiation then she could die faster making something she loved to eat.

"Adonis." One of the Companions said into the coms with a monotone drone that to Adonis belied a hint of amusement.

"Yes?" He replied going over the mental checklist of places to look for her and she rarely went to the same place twice in succession.

"She's in the vents again."

"Of course she is. Thank you Amadeus." He replied slightly between his teeth. If a companion was telling him where she was... he moved quickly.

She saw her 'lover boy' look at her with the most unamused look in his eyes as she just gave a shit eating grin offering him a radaition cooked egg, "Can I offer you an egg my lord?" She snarked at him as one of her eyes was bloodshot and her nose bleeding from even being this close to the golden throne unprotected.

"If I eat it will you come back willingly?" Adonis asked knowing he could just grab her but he hardly delt with such willful... creatures? She was certainly human... just very different from any other... paramour would be a word but so would obsession fit as equally for what this... itches would be.

"I dunno Donnie... I worked so hard in cooking these." Smoothie says peeling the shell away as she took a bite leaving a smear of the neon green lipstick she wore on the white of the egg.

"Smoothie." His augmented voice shakes the air as he does his best not to order her, because that is not what lovers did. But what the supposed ideal versus reality was also another thing to take into account.vHe watches her frown as blood trickles from her nose. She was so much more willful than any of his other paramours obsessions that it confounded him but also greatly excited him.

He is certain that his beloved Lord would have teased him... But then again he and the others would not feel that itching need so often. The pout on her green lips as she crawled closer to him before just putting one to his lips. He ate it, it was simple as he expected it to be.

"Fine we can go. At least before more of my teeth fall out." She says trying to crawl past only for Adonis to hold her to his chest. He moved quicker than she could out of the vents.

She whined as he took her to a rather unused medical area. As it was time to start some treatments to keep at bay the... Side effects of her lifestyle. Adonis had told her that she would be surprised at how much longer she would live around him. He wasn't going to let her fall apart so soon.

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Three: The Gulper

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: As you continue your journey, you encounter the vault dweller and chaos ensues. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.8k

Emerging from your slumber, a thin layer of mist clings to your skin, casting a damp chill upon the early morning air. Your back protests from the uncomfortable night's rest on the flat, hard ground, but you shake off the discomfort with a determined grimace. After all, you've endured far worse over the years through the wasteland.

Shaking off the grogginess, you cast a quick glance around the campsite. The ghoul remains peacefully asleep, barely distinguishable in the dim light of the approaching dawn. With the sky gradually brightening, you determine that it's time to start your preparations for the day.

You rise from your makeshift bedroll, stretching your tired muscles and seeking relief from the stiffness that plagues your body. The calmness of the early morning wraps around you, broken only by distant echoes of the wasteland stirring to life.

As you collect your belongings, a soft chittering echoes in the air, instantly grabbing the dog's attention as her ears perk up. The dim light of dawn shrouds the surroundings, making it challenging to discern the source of the sound. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a radroach creeping ever closer to the slumbering ghoul.

Without hesitation, you instinctively grab hold of the pistol within your reach, taking aim at the approaching bug. The air shudders as two resounding shots tear through it, bringing a swift death to the radroach. The ghoul jolts awake, his head snapping towards you with a look of surprise… and annoyance?

"Can't you see I'm sleepin'?" he calls out, his voice twinged with irritation.

You respond, feigning a gasp and mockingly clutching your chest. "Oh, I do apologize, mister! How thoughtless of me not to realize you had scheduled to be a feast for a radroach!"

He grumbles, rising to his feet. "Shut up. You think I didn't see it comin'?"

"You looked dead asleep," you remark.

"I always look dead," he mutters.

"Oh I don't know about that," you retort, a mischievous smirk gracing your face. "Sometimes you look like a sun-dried tato."

"You're damn lucky you have what I need..."

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a soft spot for sun-dried tatos," you quip, trying to lighten the mood. He raises an eyebrow, a faint hint of amusement breaking through his facade of annoyance. He grunts, a sound that could be mistaken for a chuckle if you weren't aware of his generally sour disposition.

“You're a strange one, you know that?" he rasps, scratching the back of his head. With a chuckle, you start packing up the rest of your belongings, the early morning sun casting long shadows around you.

“Come on, let’s go find the rest of him.”

As you venture further into the wasteland, the sun climbs higher in the sky, casting harsh shadows and intensifying the heat around you. The landscape is a mix of desolate terrain and remnants of the old world, twisted and broken by time and neglect.

The ghoul trudges alongside you, his footsteps heavy but determined. Meanwhile, the dog is trotting ahead, sniffing the air and occasionally darting off to investigate something in the distance. The wasteland is eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of debris or distant howl of a mutated creature. You remain vigilant, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.

Hours pass by and you notice a subtle change in the landscape. It slowly turns greener and the air feels a bit cooler. With each step you take, the transformation becomes more noticeable. The harsh, barren landscape is gradually replaced by patches of greenery. Sparse vegetation starts to spring up, providing some relief from the relentless heat. The dog, too, seems to appreciate the change, wagging her tail more often and darting around with renewed energy. Even the ghoul seems less weary, his heavy steps lightening a bit.

Rustling in the foliage caught your attention, followed by a swift blur of a vault jumpsuit sprinting past. It seems the ghoul was right about her not getting far. The ghoul glances at you and nods toward the direction she had fled. The three of you quicken your pace and find her sitting on the ground, a look of panic etched on her face.

"Hello again," he drawls as he lifts his gun and cocks it. "Where is it? The head."

The vault dweller turns slowly to the gun pointed at her, her appearance striking. With dark hair, a flawlessly sculpted face, and the largest eyes you've ever seen in your life, she exudes an air of innocence and vulnerability. "I-I don't know where it is, okay? I lost it. I lost it," she stammers, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.

She watches you rummage through her bag, a look of disbelief crossing her face at your audacity. Finding only provisions, you stand up and survey the flooded ruins around you. With a grim tone, you mutter, "A gulper got it."

"A gulper got it, huh?" The ghoul chuckles darkly before swiftly knocking out the vault dweller with the butt of his gun. You raise an eyebrow at him as he hoists her over his shoulder and carries her to a nearby dock. There, he starts securing her with a contraption that appears to be for waterboarding.

"So, uh... what's the plan here?" you ask.

"Gonna use her as bait," the ghoul replies matter-of-factly.

"Bait? For the gulper?" you muse, considering the plan. "That's actually a pretty solid plan."

You watch with a mix of curiosity and unease as the vault dweller slowly regains consciousness. With a quick tug on a rope, he sends her plummeting into the water below. After nearly thirty seconds, he decides to pull her back up via a makeshift pulley system.

"Please stop!" she cries out, spitting out water. "My dad is an overseer. He got taken by raiders and I need that head to save him. If you help me find him, he'll do anything you ask."

Ignoring her pleas, the ghoul sends her back into the water and whistles for the gulper as the dog barks in protest. It's clear he doesn't care about her father's position. As he hoists her out of the water again, she pleads, "Stop. Stop! Torture is wrong."

"You know, they used to do these things called ‘studies’. You couldn’t open a newspaper without reading about one study or another," the ghoul begins, the geiger counter on her Pip-Boy clicking. "Anyway, this one particular study came out, and it said that torturing a person don’t do shit."

He submerges her once more, turning to you, "It made sense. I mean, a man hurts me, I wouldn’t want to do him any favors. And yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from this earth. In fact, as time marched on, I’ve personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board."

The vault dweller coughs and gasps for air as she’s brought back up. "Sir, please, I need the head. It’s the only way I can get my father back."

"Still so polite... calling you sir," you quietly chuckle to yourself as you approach her, her drenched body shivering in protest. Leaning in close, you whisper, "You're a long way from home, Vaultie. You shouldn't be out here. Daddy's probably already dead, if I'm being honest.”

"My point is...” He interrupts and you step back, “If you ask me, them studies, they was right. Torturin’ a person don’t do shit.”

"Then why are you doing this to me?!” she screams.

"Well, I ain’t torturin’ you, sweetheart. I’m using you as bait,” he explains before plunging her into the water once again. You can't help but feel a slight hint of annoyance at him calling her "sweetheart".

You shake your head, trying to push aside the unreasonable jealousy that bubbles within you. The ghoul's actions can be seen as despicable, the vault dweller's plight heart-wrenching, and yet here you are, fixating on such a trivial detail. You chide yourself for feeling envious over a term of endearment. It’s a bizarre reaction, one that you begin to struggle to understand.

You snap out of your thoughts as the ghoul attempts to retrieve her from the water. A tense moment begins to unfold. The rope gets tangled, and the water starts churning as the gulper draws near. Frantically, he twists the wheel connected to the pulley system but it seems stuck. In a panic, you spot a hook stick nearby and throw it to him. He yanks her back up and she falls back onto the dock. The gulper lunges forward, its jaws snapping shut mere inches away from her, narrowly missing her.

The excess rope attached to the vault dweller becomes entangled in the gulper's mouth, causing it to thrash about wildly. In the chaos, the rope slips from under you and winds around your leg. As she fights back against the creature with the ghoul's satchel, she manages to free herself. But now, the gulper redirects its focus towards you and launches itself at your foot. With a terrifyingly close view, you see its mouth lined with tendrils resembling human fingers as it starts to pull you closer, inching towards the horrifying prospect of being devoured by this thing.

The ghoul rushes towards you and clasps onto your hand, desperately trying to pull you out of its mouth. For a brief moment, you're touched by his attempt to help, but suspicion creeps in as you realize he may be more concerned about the vials in your bag.

However, the sheer power of the large gulper proves too overwhelming as it begins to engulf you. The hundreds of finger-like tendrils, slick and slimy, slither and coil around you in a grotesque dance of entrapment. Each sinewy appendage seems to have a mind of its own, probing and grasping with an unsettling precision.

As the tendrils press against your skin, a wave of revulsion washes over you, causing your stomach to churn and bile to rise in your throat. The repulsive touch is warm and clammy, sending shivers down your spine as you struggle against the suffocating grip of the gulper's mouth.

You unleash a torrent of obscenities, every curse and profanity in your arsenal spewing forth in a raw display of frustration and panic as the ghoul continues to fight against the gulper's grasp. In a final, desperate struggle, the ghoul's grip falters. His strength wanes as he stumbles backward, his body crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" you shout in frustration as the creature envelops you, swallowing you whole. The last image being etched in your mind is that of the ghoul's contorted face, twisting in anger as he yells furiously at the vault dweller and then…

Darkness.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation

[eijirousbestie]

“Order when you’re ready.”

gym bros kiribaku

unexpected visit

smoothie king???

“lemme get uhhhh…” energy

this is by far my longest one shot sooo

* * *

“What do you think would happen if—”

“No.”

“…I didn’t even get to finish.”

“I’d rather you not honestly.”

“What? It’s not gonna be bad or anything.” You try to hold back a laugh at the sheer amount of annoyance you’ve given the man in less than thirty minutes of his workout.

He sets down the barbell he was benching and adds more weight to it. 25 pounds to be exact. He could really add 40 more but he didn’t want to seem like he was trying too hard in front of you.

“If any of your sentences start with ‘what if’ I know it’s gonna be something outrageous hun.” He shines you a pretty, lopsided smile. One that meant his words hold no harm.

“So you should be used to it. Anyways, like I was saying, what would you do if I slapped—holy shit are you benching 315 right now?” The last thing on your mind was your dumbass question.

Quite frankly, you’d already forgotten it after being so caught up in shamelessly ogling Kirishima’s tensed muscles as he benched. Amidst the intense staring, you hadn’t even noticed—nor counted—how many weights he’d actually been putting on. 315 pounds? There’s no way he could lift that much. He had to have been showing off. Yeah, that’s it.

The sharp clang of metal meeting metal brought your focus back to the redhead as he set the last weight on the bar. “Spot me?” Of course you’d happily agreed and made your way behind the bar as Kirishima made quick to re-tie his hair in a neat bun. He’d always looked so good with his hair up. Over the years, it’d grown long enough to tie back. But even having used box dye for years on end, his hair is beautifully kept. Shiny and soft, ends neatly trimmed and laid.

Making his way over to you, he leans his back against the cushion of the bench and plants his feet flat on the floor on either side of the seat for stability. He doesn’t grab the bar yet but he does gaze up at you, his face upside down from your view.

“I know it’s a lot of weight but if I start sputtering and flailing just let the bar crush me.”

“The hell? You know I could just slide the weights off right?”

“Mmh true but I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself trying to save me. Hypothetically.”

“That has to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Now you know how it feels to be on the other end of a dumb question huh?” You give him the blankest stare you can muster.

“Do you want me to spot you or not?”

“No wait please. I actually do need you to watch. Haven’t benched this much since high school.” High school?

“Kirishima what the actual fuck were you going through to be able to bench 315 in high school…”

“I was in situations.” Silence.

“—is that it or?”

“Yup. I’m legally bound to an NDA. Can’t say much else babe. Ready to start?” Your expression is a mix between ‘what the fuck’ and simply trying to shake the odd conversation.

“Yeah uhm. Go ahead I guess.” He grabs the excessively weighted bar and starts his reps. Up, down, up, down…up…up, down, up, down, down…

Wait, how many has he done already? You were too busy gawking at the sight before you. Tanned arms packed and loaded with muscles from regular training. Scars and faint freckles littering his biceps from hours in the field. A death-like grip on the barbell, veins practically on the verge of bursting with each upward push of the bar. His face contorted in concentration. Bottom lip slightly reddened from his teeth as he bit his lip with strain to lift the weight. Forehead sparkling in the gym lights, liquid evidence of his fortitude and strength. It left his white tank glued to him like a second skin. And that damn manbun.

“Lift.” You’re brought back from your thoughts at his call to end his set. Your hands wrap around the bar alongside his to raise and set it back in its place on the rack above his head. He lifts his back off of the cushion but stays seated, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

“Holy shit that was heavier than I remembered. Did I slip on a wrong weight?” The corners of your mouth lift up in a small smile as you round the bench to stand in front of him.

“Even so, you could handle it. You did real good Ei. Barely had to help you.”

A shy smile graces his face. “Ah please. I was just trying to make sure I didn’t die in front of you.” Reaching down, he grabs a small towel near his right foot and starts to dab away the sweat from his face.

It’s almost crazy how he can be so modest after having lifted the weight of a small refrigerator with his own bare hands. And he’s still got the nerve to be reserved about it.

“Yeah right. Try tellin’ that to someone who hasn’t seen you lift before.” A rough voice comes from behind you, lowkey scaring the shit out of you. You turn your head around and of course it’s none other than the walking ray of sunshine himself.

“You mind alerting people of your presence before you just pop up outta nowhere?” You say.

“Sounds like a personal problem. You should fix that.” Katsuki strides up to you both clearly worn from his workout. He gives you a blank look. You shake your head in dismissal and turn back to Kirishima.

“Y’know, he’s right though. You could probably bench a car easy.” Kirishima’s eyes crinkle at the sides as he laughs at your comment.

“Nah, no way! This was seriously challenging guys, trust.”

Katsuki butts in. He raises a brow, lips set in a straight line.

“Not even a Fiat?” You let out a choked snort, trying not to laugh at his confidence in Kiri’s manpower. Said man raises from his seat, standing to his feet in front of you both. Kirishima chooses to ignore his last question, greeting his long time friend by dabbing him up.

“Didn’t know you were gonna be in the gym today man.” Katsuki shrugs nonchalantly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his grey shorts.

“Had some free time. Thought I’d come out and brush up on endurance.” His eyes flick from Kirishima to you. “How long you two been in?”

You pull out your phone to check the time. Kirishima puts a muscular arm around your shoulder and dips his head down a bit to look at your screen. The time reads 4:24 PM. “Just a little over three hours. Why?” You both look back up at Katsuki, awaiting his response.

“No reason. New smoothie shop down the street just opened. Wanna try it before they close.”

“No reason,” my ass. This was his nonchalant was of saying “If you guys are all wrapped up here I’d love it if you’d make my day and join me for post workout drinks.”

Kirishima is the first to respond. His eyes are all aglow and his eyebrows raise in recognition at the mention of the new spot.

“Ah, the one on Delview right? Near the old antiques shop? We should totally go! People have been saying it’s pretty good.” Katsuki gives a short nod and looks at you.

“You in?” He folds his arms across his broad chest, raising a blonde brow.

Kirishima tightens his hold on you and looks down at you. The beefy arm draped over your shoulders now squeezing you into his side. His eyes light up even more than thought possible. “C’mon hun, I’m wrapped up here anyway and if you are too we should go!” His gaze drifts back up to land on the man in front of him. “Plus, it’s been a while since the three of us got time to hang together.”

And that’s how you three ended up in Katsuki’s black Jeep Wrangler with the windows down and Kiri on aux. Or at least he tried to be. After two overly cheery pop songs off his playlist played back to back, Katsuki demanded a change of tune or he’d “Chuck the fuckin’ phone out the window and run over it.” Kiri settled for Yeat.

Pulling up to the drive-thru, Katsuki holds his foot on the brake, keeping the car still while he surveys the menu.

“It’s a fuck ton of shit on this menu. You two got any ideas what you want or what?” His eyes are still glued to the menu, squinting while trying to read the small print under the even smaller print. Kirishima leans over as he tries to read over Katsuki’s shoulder, his elbow digging into the car’s center console box.

“Hmm. Honestly I’ll take anything with coconut in it. Or watermelon. Oh! Or those little spiky fruits with the white insides.”

“Lychee?” You suggest.

“Yeah, those! They’re so good hun. Have you ever tried o—”

“Will you two chucklefucks just pick already? We’re holding up the damn line!” The blonde’s voice booms in the car.

You let out a short snort. “Chuckle-whats?”

“I swear to god I’m gonna drag you out of this fucking car if you don’t quit,” he threatens through clenched teeth.

Kirishima thinks out loud, ignoring your banter. “Ehh actually I think I’ll go with watermelon.”

“You better make up your mind Red or you ain’t gettin shit.”

“He ain’t gotta do a muthafuckin’ thing.” The blonde whips his head around to glare at you where you’re seated in the backseat.

“The hell did you just—”

“Welcome to Smoothie King. How may I help you?” The butchered voice of an employee rings through the order speaker making you all go silent. Katsuki grumbles something under his breath at you before turning to face the speaker.

“Gimme a sec here.” His right hand taps impatiently on the steering wheel. A crackle sounds from the speaker before the employee chimes in again.

“Sure. Order when you’re ready.” Katsuki looks back to Kirishima with a vicious glint in his eye.

“Hurry the fuck up Red or I’m ordering for you.” Kirishima’s teeth pull at his bottom lip before making a decision.

“Right. Uhh, I’ll take a medium smoothie. Half coconut, half watermelon and ask if they can drizzle some lychee syrup on top.” The look Katsuki gives Kirishima is so comically hilarious it takes everything in you not to lose your shit. He just sits there and stares at him. The left corner of his mouth is turned up and his eyebrows pinch in the middle to show an expression of “are you fucking serious right now?”

The silence is so loud it’s deafening. And poor Kirishima doesn’t seem to get it. He adds on a forgotten “Please?” as if that’s what Katsuki was making that face for.

“All that bullshit just to get all three fuckin’ flavors in the same goddamn drink,” he grumbles before looking at you in the rear view mirror. “C’mon shit stain. Order.”

“Bitch— y’know what, never mind.” Choosing to ignore the rude ass name he spit, you tell him your order and sit back in your seat and wait. He sticks his head out the window and finally places your orders then pulls up to the first window.

Handing the cashier his card, he waits for the receipt to print up, taking back his card and pulling to the second window. The server brings out the drinks and hands them carefully to the onry blonde before he then passes them to you and Kirishima.

You both chirp out a brief thanks to the man before happily sipping your drinks. Left hand on the wheel, Katsuki makes a smooth turn out of the drive-thru before taking a sip of his drink held in his right hand. “You two shitheads better be thankful I’m generous.” You glare at the back of his head in disbelief.

“Generous my ass—”

“Of course man! Super nice of you to treat us today. Next time it’s on me.” Katsuki side eyes Kirishima, a little thrown from his comment.

“‘Next time’? Hell no. There’s not gonna be a next time. You two idiots would lose your heads if they weren’t attached to your shoulders.”

“Aww c’mon man don’t be like that. We gotta hang out more. Right hun?” He turns around in his seat to smile at you in the back.

You chuckle and nod, tone sarcastic. “Of course I’d love to see more of my best friends.” You hear Katsuki grunt from the driver seat.

“M’not your best friend.” Kirishima turns back in his seat to face front, brow raising as he speaks.

“You act like you haven’t known them since middle school dude. That sounds like best friends to me.” You snicker and tap Kiri’s shoulder to give him a hi-five, the slap resonating in the car.

His knuckles turn white as he grips onto the steering wheel at his wits ends. “I’m gonna kill you both.” You all made plans to meet up again later that week.

[assortedvillainvault]

I've had a little request/prompt in my head for you for ages, bc it relates specifically to your characterization of Blitzwing. You have established that your version is constantly plagued by processor-splitting headaches. How do you think he'd react to the realization that his headache is GONE when he's around his S/O?

Midnight I've rotated this ask in my head like a snowglobe for weeks - thank you for being one of the biggest fans of Blitzwing on this blog, genuinely love your prompts for the guy.

I didn't even realise I'd put headaches in every headcannon but I went back and reread my stuff and. Yeah - chronic headache is now a Thing. Due to the severity of the triplechanger process it felt a bit 'handwavy-poweroflove-sumthin'-sumthin' to render them GONE, but Better? Better I can do. Hope You Enjoy!

Tw: descriptions of migraines/pain, allusions to maladaptive coping with said pain, kidnapping but like. In the Megamind way.

Blitzwing x Reader: 'Headaches'

Ever since the triple changer surgery, Blitzwing has a had a constant, splitting pain in his helm that pain blockers and all manner of defrags won’t touch. (And no it’s not his alters, ha ha funny joke fragging die-)

He’s not sure if it’s somenting physical, and he doesn’t trust Blackarachnia’s surgery technique one iota, but the deed is done. The pain never fades. Sometimes it lances through him so sharply that it forces his audio and visual feed to cut, rendering him blind and deaf at the worst moments.

And on other days it races down his spinal strut and through his wings to the point that even gentle breezes feel like sandpaper, his touch sensors scrambled and sore.

On better days it’s a low, pulsing, grinding ache at the tip of his neck and behind his optics, and at the seams of his faces. One that can be covered up by other, newer pains, or by switching faces so fast he gets dizzy.

Coping mechanisms are coping mechanisms, if you call him out then congratulations for sacrificing yourself to the Decepticon cause for target practice.

Upon meeting you (aka – scooping you off the street for a hostage meatshield and subsequently being told to keep you for a bit), his headache pulsed so badly that his balance teetered and he nearly crushed you in his fist. Great. One more thing to fragging deal with.

Your specific hostage situation didn’t take long, only a few days due to Prowl and his cyberninja sneaky ways, but you left a genuinely lovely impression on Blitzwing in the meantime. Not too screechy, no unnecessary fluids, a sense of slightly unhinged humour?? 10/10 would kidnap again!

So he does.

Little and often, in snatches and starts. And it isn’t immediately obvious to either party, but there’s a...lightness, creeping in. Like sounds are clearer, and his head has room for more stuff. He shrugs it off and thinks nothing of it, distracted and humming along as you chat about anything and everything - kicking your feet inside his cockpit.

Apparently a quirk of both biology and technology, is that the mind will translate emotional and mental hurt into physical hurt. Ease the former...and the physical will begin to follow.

Huh.

It still takes him several months to recognise that with you and you alone, he loosens up and calms down enough that the pain is lower than it has been in years.

Never gone, but better. And that’s more than he’d ever expected.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

listen: you as a kitsune meeting Foul Legacy Childe

maybe he's running from the Fatui, unable to change back into his human form, so he takes refuge in Inazuma- many of the islands are mostly uninhabited, so he doesn't have to worry about being seen- or so he thought. one night he goes to sleep, utterly alone, and wakes up to someone carefully poking his horns, a figure with fox ears coming into view as he opens his crystalline eye.

you grin upon seeing the Abyssal creature awake, and stick out your hand to shake with his.

Foul Legacy quickly learns how to put up with you, as you insist on accompanying him as he travels through Inazuma, no matter how hard he tries to scare you off. and maybe it's for the best- you know almost every island significantly better than he does, Narukami especially, and constantly list fun facts and advice that you think might be useful. if you begin to fall behind, Legacy sighs and lifts you onto his shoulder, much to your delight, or if you're in your fox form he simply carries you in his arms.

speaking of which, he loves your little fox self- a soft, fluffy bundle of fur that can fit in the palms of his hands. no matter how old you are, or how many tails you've gained, your fox form remains small and fluffy, and sometimes you'll end up curling up on Legacy's cape to sleep that night, much like a cat with its favorite blanket. you even let him pet your tail in your humanoid form! if you trust him enough, he'll get to see all your tails, which is a high honor indeed for a kitsune.

sorry i just love the thought of big scary Foul Legacy with a tiny little fox friend