#but the part where he SET THE HAT ON FIRE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eupheme · 5 months

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— below the belt [into the fire, part iv]

part i | part ii | part iii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, brief somno, fingering, light degradation, oral (f & m), light ass play, hair pulling, swallowing, miscommunication, cooper is a diiiccckk, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: just a small warning there’s very brief references about pregnancy and infertility in this, in reference to reader’s vault (in regards to other members)

“I don’t think I‘ve ever been more desperate. Told myself I’d do anything to make sure they didn’t find me.” A small smile, then - as you remember, "But then I found you, and..."

As you turn, you notice he's gone still. Hat tipped down low, a guarded look as the pink of his tongue slips across his teeth.

"Huh. Should've known." He muses - voice slow and rough, "Think I'm startin’ to put things together."

(Or - you open up, and things don’t go as planned)

There’s a pressure at your hips. Something nudging your thighs apart, strong and solid. The ghost of fingertips at the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up.

You stir in your sleep, the dark room swimming. Jerking awake at the press of something against your core - a hand splayed across your lower back, pinning you down.

A snarl in your throat, as you try to twist away.

“Easy there, you lil’ yao guai.” The Ghoul’s voice cuts through the dark, and with it - you feel your muscles start to ease.

“What are you doing?” You croak sleepily.

“Takin’,” He husks - teeth biting into the leather of his gloves, tearing them from his fingers.

Cupping you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clothed cunt. Fingers sliding beneath the thin fabric of your underwear, as your thighs nudge wider.

Back arching, as you stretch out on your belly. A rough hum as you fill his palm. Warm against his fingers, as the tip of one rubs at your clit.

“Was just gonna sleep.” It’s quiet. You don’t know if it’s early or late - the room still bathed in moonlight, “But seeing all this skin, the way you’re offering up your pussy on a silver platter…”

He tugs at your underwear, ripping it down your thighs, “Makes a man wanna take a bite.”

Teeth sink into the soft curve of your ass - a yelp as you jerk beneath him. Glaring at him from over your shoulder, from beneath heavy eyelids.

He’d been gone all day. Something about needing to check the next place out. Not wanting you slowing him down.

There had been a spike of something in your stomach at his words. Fear. Unease.

Condescension dripping in his tone, in his “You best stay put, or I’ll make you stay put.”

Funny how after all this time, it’s him being apartfrom you that had you pacing. Checking out the battered windows, ready to dart back down to the basement. Fighting the nausea of the RadAway still that lingers in your system as the radiation purges itself, after the days before.

Busying yourself with more scavenging. Scrubbing the grime and dust from your clothes in a bucket of radiated water, your pants still hanging off the back of a chair to dry.

The hours slowly ticking by, until the sun dipped under the horizon. The thin blanket pulled up to your chin, as you waited - until finally, you drifted off.

You’re not ready to unpack that. Or the fluttering in your belly now. The relief.

His features are even more skull-like in the darkness, his hat discarded on a nearby table. Faint shadows cast across his face by the still-buzzing static of the television. Dark hollows carved out at his nose, the set of his eyes.

A smear of red against his cheekbone. Flaking off the leather of his discarded gloves. Adrenaline slowly leeching from his system, from an unexpectedly rough afternoon. Unable to resist the urge to sink into something soft and wanting.

There’s a low sound of amusement as he nudges at you, urging you onto your knees. Your back still arched, shirt riding up to where your tits still press into the bed, your face now buried in the crook of an arm.

“Ain’t this a sight.” His hands grasp at your hips, fingers denting flesh as he spreads you open. Baring all of you to him.

Spit pools on his tongue. The dip of his head as his lips part - letting it drip down, warm and wet against your holes.

It makes you gasp, clenching down around nothing. He must see it, how you string tight, with the rough exhale he makes.

Your fingers curl against the mattress. Holding you breath - waiting for the press of his cock, the sharp stretch that you know will follow. Waiting for whatever he gives you.

Not expecting the brush of his tongue, as it flattens against your folds. Languid when it flicks up to your entrance. The sound you make is ragged, thighs pressing together.

They’re caught by his hands. Wrapping around the crook of your knees, forcing them apart again.

“No you don’t.” He hums, feeling your muscles flex in his grip, “You best keep these nice and spread for me.”

Another exploratory lick, tasting you - a muffled groan as he discovers how wet you are when he parts you.

He’s never touched you like this. Your mind is still caught on the kiss, his tongue against your tits, knuckles bruised by the bite of his teeth. Never expecting to know the feeling of his mouth anywhere else.

You don’t want him to stop. Arching more, using your leverage on the mattress to hike yourself higher for him.

“That’s more like it, sweetheart.” He rasps, “You learn fast, I’ll give you that.”

You keen, as he teases at your clit. Tight flicks of his tongue that have you rocking against him. Smearing his spit and your slick across your skin, before his lips are following.

Devouring you. Groaning at your taste.

“Been dyin’ for another taste,” It’s almost a coo, with the syrupy drawl of his words - muffled against your cunt, “Sweeter than stolen honey.”

Marveling at how wet you are, for him - in this dry and dead desert landscape. Nothing but sand and death for miles but you’re here, soft and slick against his mouth, biting back a muffled whine for more.

His tongue dips into your tight heat. Feeling the tight clench of you as he presses close, unhindered by the bulk of a nose.

Your hips rock against his face. Fully awake now, eyes tightly shut. Soft sounds melding with the suck of his mouth, thigh muscles tight and trembling.

“S’good,” It’s rough from sleep. Quiet, as if afraid he’ll stop if you reveal just how good he feels, “Feels so fucking good.”

A whine when his mouth does leave you.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, as his hand leave your legs. Thumbs finding the curve of your thigh, pressing into the meat of your ass, “Like getting tongue-fucked by a Ghoul?”

Opening you up, his thumb ghosting across your clit. Your answer is half-moan, half-sound, as he pinches the tight bud.

“Only if it’s yours.”

He makes a low, rough sound at that. Palming himself from his position behind you.

“Still talkin’. Sounds like you need a little more.” It’s your only warning before two of his fingers nudge against your opening.

Your gasp rings out, turning soft when they press deep to fill you. The nudge of his thumb with each plunge of his fingers bringing you ever closer. Unable to help the rock of your hips, as his fingers curl inside you.

Each breath is a pushed from you. Ragged and high-pitched, as your fingers pinch tighter. The slight plateau spiking again as he strokes against a spot his cock had found.

Fingers twisting, as the pleasure climbs higher. A third fitting into you, one knuckle at a time. It’s almost too much, your legs pressing flush against his, knees locking as heat pools in your belly.

“Look at these tight little holes. Always takin’ what I give you,” He admires, as feels the way you clench down around him.

The tip of his thumb sweeping up. Following the path of slick and spit, until it rubs against your tight rim, “Good girl like you gonna let me in here, too?”

It shocks you. His words, that hint of praise. How unexpected his touch is. Your focus narrows to the pad of his thumb, the steady pump of his fingers. His groan rough as he feels you tighten around his fingers.

“Fuck. Filthy little thing.” He grins, adding the slightest pressure.

Your own moan is wanton, loud and needy in the near-silent room. So close you can almost reach out and taste it - ready to sink your teeth into the ripe flesh.

“I’m gonna-” You manage, but it peters off, slipping into a moan.

“What? You gonna come?” He mocks, but it’s ragged. Losing its edge with his own need - too focused the wet squelch of his fingers, how your hips buck against his palm.

The mattress is rough against your cheek as you nod. Words are all but stolen from you now, leaving unable to answer. Nothing left but the ache for your release, everything inside you winding tight.

With your soft sighs, his neck bends - another lick against your pussy, where his fingers still pound.

The next slick brush is against your clit. The tilt of his head so his tongue can flick at the tight bud. Again and again - and with the third, you feel yourself shatter.

You wail, as he rips it from you. A bright pulse that radiates inside you - your release dripping from you with the clench of your cunt. A low hum as he feels how hard you come around his fingers, against his tongue.

Eyes closed so tightly that stars spark behind your lids. There’s the rough cadence of his voice, but everything is muted except the pleasure that sends your nerves alight.

Not noticing the panting whines are coming from you, until you drift back down.

Softening, when his fingers ease from you. A hiss when he leaves you empty, already missing the heavy fullness.

“Flip over,” The Ghoul growls, as he leans back on his heels.

Your muscles tight in the best way from the bend of your knees, the pounding of his fingers. A soft groan as you shift, your back pressing into the mattress as your thighs open for him.

His eyes already there, seeing the slick shine between your legs, the pretty gape where he’s worked you open. There’s the clink of his belts, as he works himself free, achingly hard in his palm.

Anticipation swelling as you wait for him to hike your legs around his waist and bury himself in you.

That heavy gaze flicks up, instead. Bare skin, the pushed-up tangle of your shirt. The cock-drunk haze of your eyes. Your soft, parted lips as you catch your breath.

He’s like a shadow as he crawls up you. Tattered coat licking at your legs, lean thighs spreading as they bracket your ribs.

A hand plants next to your head as he arcs over you. The other wrapping around his cock - where it hangs heavy, brushing your chest.

Your eyes are wide, focused on the thick shine of him as he works your slick over his cock - how the flushed head disappears with the stoke of his fingers. Lips already parted in anticipation.

His hand unwrapping, fingers slipping against your bottom lip. Hooking around your teeth, as your tongue licks at his knuckles.

A sharp inhale, when you close around and suck.

“Gonna use this mouth,” He husks, “The way it ought to be used.”

Pressure against your jaw, until you’re opening. He leans back, thighs spreading wider. The hand by your ear leaving to curl around his base.

Eyes dark as he feeds himself into your mouth. You can’t help but moan when he hits your tongue - the musky taste of you that clings to him.

Fingers slipping free, but his eyes stay fixed as he inches between your lips. How quick you are to close around him - watching the grit of his jaw. Licking over the rough and uneven flesh, swollen and leaking against your tongue.

He eclipses everything else, with how he fills your vision. A hand slipping beneath your head to angle you, so you can take him deeper.

A shallow thrust that inches towards the back of your throat, constricting around him as you moan.

Intention in the way you slide your hands up for him. Fingers wrapped around the straps of the pack you were using as a pillow. His knees framing your tits, as he rocks into your mouth.

A silent submission that he does not miss. The curl of his lip and the shine of teeth, as you let him decide how much you can take.

His weight presses into your chest, keeping you pinned. Unable to go deep at this angle, but content with the hot suck of your mouth, the wet swirl of your tongue. Finding his rhythm, the clink of his spurs as his knees dig into the ground with each thrust.

There’s an unsteady buck of his hips, and his shaft scrapes against your teeth. You go still - eyes rounding with a jolt of fear - but all he does is let loose a rough groan, chin jutting as his teeth click together.

His hand still cradles the back of your head. Fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of your neck, but not enough to hurt. Almost as if grounding himself, as he pumps into your mouth.

“Goddamn.” He growls, “Should thank whoever taught you to suck cock. Gonna make me come, sweetheart-”

Your eyes do close then, resisting the urge to let your hands drift. To slide up his thighs, across his vest, aching to slip beneath. They curl instead, grasping at the straps.

Air rushing into your lungs, as he pulls from you. Eyes fluttering open to catch the way he strokes himself, angling the tip towards your parted and glossy lips.

“You gonna take it?” He rasps, and you nod - letting your tongue peek out for him.

His hand tugs at your hair, his chin tipping down to watch, “Wanna hear you say it. You gonna let me fill your pretty mouth?”

You don’t know when use became let, but if he wants your permission - he has it. It’s always been his, even when it’s been wrapped tightly around you. Tied up in a bow.

“Yeah,” Your eyes are on his when you say it. Focusing on the grit of his jaw, the dark shine of his eyes, “I wanna taste you.”

His fingers tighten, brow pinching. A jerk of his hips into his fist - something bitten back between his teeth, caught in the heave of his chest.

“Open.” The Ghoul groans, and it’s all the warning you get before he’s coming - spilling across your lips, and then into the wet heat of your mouth.

Your eyes flicking up to watch again, though you’re torn. Tempted to watch the rough jerk of his fist, all that exposed skin. But it’s nothing compared to the way he looks at you as you take him. The weight of his gaze, the baring of teeth that has nothing to do with anger.

The Ghoul still tastes like a man should, as the salt of him as it floods your tongue. The kick of his length between your lips with each throb, his eyes rolling shut as he milks himself into your mouth.

His thumb smears across your lower lip, before it sinks inside to join his cock. A ragged breath, when he feels you swallow around both. Your tongue flicking across your lips when he eases from you, the tips of your fingers wiping away the rest.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” It’s a low exhale, a held tension gone from his shoulders. Fingers finally loosening from your hair, though you would have kept your heady steady for him without them.

He flops down on the mattresses, where they are pushed together. Stretching out beside you, the long hours finally catching up to him.

A lift of his hips as he tucks himself away, as you reach down to find the twist of fabric around your knees - tugging your underwear back into place.

Your mind is blissfully quiet - drowsy again, in the late hour and your post-orgasmic haze. Warm, as you roll on your side, studying him from under half-lidded eyes.

He’s close. Enough you can see the rough cut of his cheekbones, the straight line of his teeth. A second as you wonder, not for the first time, what he might have looked like before.

Your cheek grazes his shoulder, as a dark eye flicks your way. An arm splayed out, still tucked beneath your neck from where he had angled your head.

The phantom pinch of his fingers still lingers. The taste of him on your tongue when you lick against your teeth.

“What?” He grouses - as he does, when he can’t read you. When you manage to surprise him.

“Nothing.” You murmur, sleepily, “Just glad you made it back.”

It’s easy then, for your head to tilt without thinking. For your lips to ghost against his throat, where his pulse flutters beneath rough skin.

A ragged breath rattles in his chest, when you press another kiss lazily against his jaw. He stiffens beside you, fingers curled in the fabric of your shirt.

Before he’s pushing - rolling you over. Tucking you between him and the old basement wall, his back to the locked door.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grunts. All bark now, with the way his bare fingers splay across your skin, where your shirt has ridden up.

“Get some sleep. Long walk tomorrow.”

The morning dawns, and there’s something about it that seems more clear.

Or maybe it’s just you, your mind drifting back to the night before. How you woke up with the heavy press of him against you.

It hadn’t lasted long - a rough groan against your ear. Nothing said as the hat fixed itself back where it belongs. A silent tilt of his head towards to door, indicating the departure.

He still follows behind you, but you think just a bit of that gap between you has closed. A silent corner being turned, somewhere between dusk and dawn.

Only thing shared is that he’s narrowed the bounty down to a settlement, six miles from here. Deeper into the desert, instead of the crop of trees you had been hoping to head towards. Shade would be a welcome improvement, to the miles on empty road.

Maybe before, you would have been disappointed. But somehow - today - you don’t mind.

"Yesterday." The Ghoul’s voice comes from behind you - some time later, "You didn't want to stay alone."

It's not a question, but you can hear the way his words trail off. A second as you pick through your thoughts, settling on something you’ve been carrying since the beginning.

"Didn't want to be found." The wind carries your words back to him.

A few more steps pass, before he's asking, "What'd a thing like you do to get a bounty?"

Your steps slow, until he's beside you. A sideways look sent his way, catching his eye.

"You took it." It's the first real time it's been addressed, after your init meeting, "Wouldn't you know?"

He could outpace you if he wanted, with those long legs. Content enough at the moment, to stick by your side, "I know what I know. Wanna hear your side."

You hum, contemplating. Wondering how to explain. If it would make sense to a man like him. If he’d think you were weak.

"Our Overseer had a… god complex," You start slowly - never having to explain it out loud, trying to find the words, "Had it coded in the beginning that only his direct, patrilineal bloodline could work the Vault. Everything went through him."

Food. Water. Power. Everything locked under codes and keys. Thumbprints and DNA, the role of Overseer shared across the current generation.

"All his sons, then their sons, and so on... they all got married off to other families in the Vault. Or they’d find a way to bring in new blood from the outside.” Your mother had been a Wastelander, carrying you when she had been traded. You had never seen the sun until a few weeks ago.

“If you couldn't produce a male heir, you disappeared. If you tried to leave, they'd bring you back, and then you'd disappear. Been like that a long time."

A whispered secret that many knew. Followed, because the security of control and safety outweighed the horrors of the unknown. The knowledge that whether you left or not, your bones would stay in the Vault.

"So what? Didn't want to play the role of broodmare in your utopia?" He sneers, and it's not the first time you've picked up on his distaste of the Vaults, of Vault Dwellers like you.

“Seems like a goddamn picnic compared to the shit you see up here."

“You asked.” Your arms cross over your chest, as you scowl at him.

A few weeks ago and you would have gone silent. Now, you’re starting to her used to his gruff comments, the sharp bristle. Waiting, until his eyes tear away, a small jerk of his chin to continue.

"My name got drawn. Was supposed to marry one. But… in the last five years he's gone through three wives. Not a single child." You can feel the weight of his gaze on your face, the pinch of his brow.

A beat, as you start off again, "Told you, I worked as a chemist. I saw his vitals. It wasn't them, but for it."

"So you left." His words comes reluctantly, as he fits the pieces together, "I take it they weren't happy about that."

"Wasn't gonna let it be me next." You nod, "But no, they weren't. Like I said, no one truly leaves, but I was dead either way, right?”

A beat, as you take a breath to steady yourself. Stuck in the fear from that day and the ones that followed, afraid of your own shadow.

“I don’t think I‘ve ever been more desperate. Told myself I’d do anything to make sure they didn’t find me.” A small smile, then - as you remember, "But then I found you, and..."

As you turn, you notice he's gone still. Hat tipped down low, a guarded look as the pink of his tongue slips across his teeth.

"Huh. Should've known." He muses - voice slow and rough, "Think I'm startin’ to put things together."

"What are you talking about?" You ask with a frown, thrown off by the change in pace.

"I think you know." He presses, your eyes flicking down to watch the way his wrist reflexively presses against the butt of his revolver, where it juts from his holster.

Scowling now, stalking closer, "Not a bad plan, Vaultie. Was gonna have to fuck someone either way, right? Might as well pick the man with the biggest gun. That what you thought?”

There's venom in his tone, biting into you. The first time his fury has fully been directing at you, freezing you in place.

A shake of your head, your voice sounding small, "It's-, it’s not like that."

You haven’t been using him. Not like he thinks, though you don’t know why he’s so angry. He’s treated almost everything like a transaction - keeping you at arms length.

You’ve been the one that’s falling, not him.

"Christ, you really had me going. You're a damn good liar, you know that?" He spits, with a low shake of his head. A scoff, as his eyes narrow, "Been wondering why you’ve been offerin’ yourself up so eagerly to me."

It makes your head spin, as you try to make sense of his words. Another small shake, the words caught in your throat.

You don't know how to explain that your desperation in the beginning did have its roots in self-preservation. But in all the days and moments that have passed - that surely, surely he couldn’t still think so.

“I know how it sounds but, I-” Your words cut off, as a hand reaches out, wrapping around your bicep. Yanking you closer until you stumble.

"You do, huh? Let me tell you, all you did was trade one devil for another.” The words ground out, snarled between clenched teeth, “You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

His words chip away at your heart. With an effort you try to wrench your arm away - a shove against his chest that does nothing, as your own fury boils inside you.

"How can you say that? You found me, asshole." You snarl, "I haven't lied about anything. I could have left, but I stayed because I wanted to. Didn’t last night mean anything to you?”

“It was just business.” He growls, “Ain’t that right?”

The look he gives you is the final piece that shatters you, as his fingers pinch harder against your skin.

He never cared after all.

Your throat aches. The urge to fight, to make him understand, slips through your fingers. Another shove, harder this time, right into his gut. A ragged breath as his grip loosens, and it's all you can do to twist on your heel.

Shooting him a venomous glance from over your shoulder, "If you're going to take me in, then fucking do it."

You don’t care anymore. Waiting for the rope to lasso around your waist. Bind tightly around your throat, until it chokes you.

But, it doesn't.

You don't look back.

Tears prick your eyes, as you hoist your pack higher on your shoulder. One of the few things that has made the journey with you - so much shed over the miles.

You had endured enough. Had thought something had changed, since those first days together. That maybe, as the days had passed, he had softened. That maybe you weren’t alone in your feelings. That offer just a mask, to act on them.

All you did was trade one devil for another.

A foolish thought. It makes your jaw grit, an angry shake of your head. You wouldn't cry over him, not after everything you've been through.

The edge of the abandoned town passes, fuzzy with the way your eyes fix ahead.

Blinded to the rest of the world, as you set off for the unknown.

Small pieces forming a loose semblance of a plan. Something about another settlement, a while down the road, into the forest. No bounty there, but you didn’t give a shit anymore.

With the food in your pack, you might be able to trade for some caps. Find some work - maybe stick around, if it's safe.

If not, it's not like you're not used to sleeping on the ground.

Sand leads to dirt paths, then to grass. Brushing your ankles as you weave through the barren forest, the bark stripped bare and bleached by the sun.

The weight of him follows you, though you do not turn around. A hand held loosely on your holster by habit more than anything, as you pick your way across fallen branches.

You didn't need him. Right now you tell yourself you didn't even want him.

But, you’ve never been a good liar.

There's the snap of a branch, then. A metallic creak.

It's cruel, how your heart leaps. How you look for him, breath held with the swivel of your head.

Only to feel like you are falling, when it's not the Ghoul. When a figure steps out from the trees. Two more from an outcropping of rock.

Your body freezes on its own, when you see them. All familiar.

The two from the town, those days ago. Springing to your mind now, as you had peered from over his shoulder at the bounty board. The amateurs - the man with the scar, and his partner.

And the other. All that blue - encased in padded leather armor. He is the one that makes your blood run cold, your fingers curling into fists.

Baine. He was from your Vault. Someone they sent out to bring people back, and every time they came home battered - left to you to patch up, if they lived that long.

"Took a bit you find you," He smiles, though it does not reach his eyes, "Had to enlist in some local help. Thought you'd never split off from that creature."

Your head whips to the side, as they shift - trying to box you in. Fear and fury licks in you, as you grit out, "He's not a creature."

He scoffs, "You keep strange company, but you'll be back where you belong soon enough. I am sure the Overseer will be... forgiving, if you come quietly."

The man with the scar lunges - reaching for your arm. At the same time, you remember yourself. Just able to get your fingers around the butt of your gun, drawing it out.

There's a snarl but you're firing - downing him just before he reaches you, his body careening over the edge of the rock. Your aim twitches towards Baine, but he's faster.

His hand wrapping around your wrist, twisting until you cry out - fingers opening. A sharp pain in your chest, as his fist slams into it.

Fingers unfurling to reveal the syringe, slipped between your ribs. The plunger flush with the base - whatever was inside, already flooding through you.

"Should've gone quietly, girl." It's faded, as if you're in a tunnel. The world tilting on an axis, as your legs give out.

You cry out, for him - the broken noise sounding like it comes from a thousand miles away.

And then… there's nothing.

(someone got their feelings hurt 👀) thank you so much for reading!! 💖 I have really loved writing this and them, really appreciate all the love!!

#please mind the tags!#and the a/n #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

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crappymixtape · 2 months

Text

hang on tight, baby • part one

NAVIGATION -> PART I • PART II • PART III favored to win in barrel racing for the upcoming rodeo, you’re out in the corral practicing when your obnoxious neighbor, tyler owens, swings by to say hi, but when the wind picks up you both won’t have a choice but to trust each other • 18+ | ( 3.0k – TW: natural disasters, tornado, injuries • witty banter as foreplay, fluff in their own way, enemies to idiots in love, tyler owens x reader )

H A N G O N T I G H T, B A B Y • P A R T O N E 🎶 devil always made me think twice, chris stapleton

Clouds stretched overhead, lazy liked pulled taffy as the sun beat down on you in the midday heat. You’d been up since the first fingers of light had crept up over the horizon, dew still clinging to the long stalks of wheat in the early morning, but as the day spun on summer made sure to remind you what it was capable of.

That June in Oklahoma wasn’t anything to mess with.

Sweat beading across your forehead, you had half a mind to toss your hat over the corral fence but it was the only thing keeping you from getting sunburned. Pushing at your windswept hair with a gloved hand you tucked the flyaways out of your face and clicked your tongue at your horse, Tilly, to get back into position.

“C’mon, girl. One more run and then we’ll call it,” you coaxed, readjusting your grip on the saddle horn and giving her neck a pat. Tilly snorted, her hooves stamping in the dirt, anxious to take off again around the three wooden barrels dotting across your little makeshift arena. “That’s it, easy…” you murmured.

Barrel racing horses were built different, like they were brought into the world locked and loaded with a fire burning in them – they lived to ride like this. A black flash of muscle and tension set loose like a snapped rubber band and honestly? You lived for it too.

Tucking your chest tight against her mane, you knotted your fingers in the reigns, sucked in a breath and held it steady in your lungs. Three…two…one…

“Yah!” you kicked your heels to Tilly’s flanks and she took off like a gunshot. Hooves thundering across the ground, winding a tight circle around the first barrel in a blur as you ticked off the seconds in your head.

Seven, eight, nine – you rounded the second barrel – ten, eleven – you approached the third – twelve – and then you heard it. A blast of drums and twangy guitar riffs, a Chris Stapleton track followed by a loud engine backfire and it threw both you and Tilly off track.

Your booted foot smashed into the side of the last barrel and you yelped, Tilly kicking her back legs in a start with a high pitched whinny.

“Whoa, whoa–easy!” Pulling back on the reigns you soothed her, hands smoothing down her mane. Shh, s’alright girl, and she slowly calmed, cantering to a stop just at the edge of the corral where you could finally see who’d come tearing up the driveway.

Tyler Owens.

“Well hey, sweet stuff. Damn, you were lookin’ good for a minute – what happened there at the end?” he hollered out his open cab window and it made your hands ball into fists.

Brows pinched together and lips twisting into a deep scowl, you tugged at Tilly to head back to the gate, “I told you not to call me that, Owens.”

“What? Sweet stuff? What’s wrong with that?” you could hear the grin in his tone, saw him in your head without even having to look. Stupid smirk, stupid aviators, stupid toothpick and stupid belt buckle.

“I ain’t sweet,” you shot back and it pulled a chuckle out of him, a low, rough sound that put a flicker of heat between your ribs.

He cut the engine on his truck, boots shuffling in the grass as he hopped out, and the heavy slam of his door told you today just wasn’t gonna be your day.

Tyler tutted at you, teasing. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Sawyer?” and that snagged your attention.

Dismounting faster than he could blink, you were out of the saddle and marching across the corral to kick at the fence board his boot was resting on. He stumbled back at the force of it and laughed again, flicking his toothpick off into the wheel ruts of the driveway.

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in defense and took his sunglasses off, tongue running along his bottom lip, “Didn’t come here to get my ass kicked.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you snarked, pulling your hat off to fan at your face, “You know I’m trainin’ right now.”

“Mmhm,” he agreed, notching his foot back between the fence boards and leaning his elbows lazy on top, “But I also know it’s pushin' a hundred degrees and the humidity’s sittin’ at 50%. You been drinkin’ water?”

You swallowed, mouth dry — No — and rolled your eyes before turning to walk Tilly back to the gate, “I’m fine.”

He pushed off the fence and chased a line around the corral, hollering after you, “Betcha didn’t know I’m almost as good at chasing bullshit as I am tornados!”

You groaned, dumbass, and reached the gate with Tilly in tow, but Tyler’s hand was on the latch before you could get to it.

“So. I call bullshit,” he said again, a little out of breath and eyes stuck on the way your lips twitched against a smile. “What d'you say we go get an iced tea or something,” he opened the gate and somehow you managed to pass through without so much as a glance in his direction.

Stick to your guns.

“No, Tyler.”

“Ah, c’mon,” he insisted as you pushed past him to the stable, “You and I both know it’s too hot to be out here. So does Tilly.”

But you ignored him, walked Tilly into her stall and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew Tyler had propped himself up on the other side. Arms folded over the top of the gate and hat tipped back just a little, but you went to work anyway undoing Tilly’s bridle, moving easily down to work at the buckle on the saddle and heaved it off her back.

“Least make yourself useful,” you huffed, saddle in hand and shoving it over the gate into Tyler’s chest.

“Shit–” he grunted, fingers scrambling to grab hold of it. A frown tugged down at the corners of his mouth, but he walked the saddle to the tack room anyway and came back with a renewed sense of purpose. “C’mon, Sawyer. Just a nice cold iced tea between friends?”

Sawyer. The nickname he’d gifted you when you’d moved in next door, a nod to your home town – Sawyer, Oklahoma. The home you’d left. The one you tried to forget. The place that held too many memories, too much hurt, and made your chest ache every time you thought about it.

You stopped brushing Tilly and let her get after a much needed drink of water, heaving a sigh from your lungs. It was cooler in the stable and without the sun beating down on you, you didn’t need your button down anymore. Fingers moving to undo the damp, long-sleeved, shirt clinging to your skin, it sighed with relief as the fabric shifted to let the breeze sweep over you.

“Tyler. I need to focus on training,” you grumbled glancing up at him, but it was mistake.

Without his sunglasses, you could see him tracking the movement of your hands. The buttons as they slipped through the loops one at a time. The heady mix of your sweat and shampoo a sweet scent lingering in the air between you and it made you feel dizzy. Made you want something you knew you shouldn’t have. Tyler knew it too as he swallowed thick, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw ticking as he bit down on the feeling flickering in his chest.

“Promise I won’t ask you again if you still hate me in an hour,” he said, tone a little strangled, and your lips betrayed you, the corner of your mouth tugging up in the world’s tiniest smile.

“Honest?” you challenged, quirking a skeptical brow and he winked.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” he traced his fingers over his chest and you swore right then and there you’d be the one to kill him if he put even one toe out of line.

❝ THE MINUTE THAT I SAW YOU WALKIN’ OVER, I FIGURED I WAS DIGGIN’ MY GRAVE. AND YOU HAD THE SHOVEL, I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE, BUT YOU’RE JUST THE KIND OF TROUBLE I CRAVE. ❞

Your property was a few miles out of town, a small farmhouse with an old horse stable on seventy-eight acres you rented to the Calhoun brothers for their fescue. It was a lot of work. The house badly needed updating, but it was all you could afford with your winnings from nationals last year and in the end, it didn’t matter – if you hadn't gotten a fresh start you’d have suffocated.

So, a little over a year ago when you’d pulled up the dirt drive in your red Ford pickup, Tilly’s trailer in tow, you felt like you could breathe again. Felt like this little patch of earth there on the outskirts of Tulsa was just what you needed, but when you started hauling boxes out of the truck bed you heard the one thing you didn’t need coming up the road.

Your neighbor.

Tyler Owens.

Renowned twister chaser and resident hot air balloon with an ass that could make even the most beat up pair of Wranglers look good. You knew before he even opened his mouth that he was trouble, but he was easy on the eyes and – surprisingly – pretty helpful.

When your roof sprung a leak during a particularly bad downpour he came over. Climbed up the ladder with a hammer and nails hanging off the tool belt on his hips and had it patched in twenty minutes.

When your chickens got loose and took off into the Calhoun’s fescue he and his horse Banjo helped corral them back up and into the coop before they did too much damage to the crops.

And when he’d found you at the Tin Bucket last year, too many drinks deep after losing at the Fourth of July rodeo, he drove you home. Held your hair out of your face while you puked and cried and spilled your guts to him in a muddled mess and didn’t say anything after. Kept your secrets just that, secret.

“Still with me, Sawyer?”

Tyler’s voice cut into your thoughts and you blinked over at him from the other side of the truck bench.

“What?”

“You’re not here,” he chuckled, brows pinched with just the smallest bit of worry. “You’re somewhere else.”

“Oh,” you felt your cheeks grow hot and tossed your gaze out your window, “Just thinkin’ about Friday. Adeline Stout got a 13:20 last weekend, I gotta beat that to qualify for nationals.”

“Hm,” he hummed, thumbs tapping on the steering wheel, “Seems like you had it earlier.”

“Yeah, ’til you drove up.”

Tyler huffed a laugh under his breath and clicked his tongue, “Sorry. Should’a called first.”

Silence settled in the cab and the air between you buzzed, felt like static, charged and pulling taut with something loaded until the truck bumped over the curb of the parking lot and shattered it in an instant.

You couldn’t jump out of his rig fast enough and didn’t wait for him as you cut a path over the asphalt and into the dingy little diner, the bell overhead tinkling happily.

“Howdy, sugar!” Dot greeted you with her big, friendly smile, cowboy hats dangling from her earrings as she gave the man at the counter a refill on his coffee.

“Hey, Dot,” you couldn’t help smiling back, the bell on the door jingling again letting you know Tyler had finally caught up.

“Dottie, you are lookin’ fine as ever,” Tyler grinned, smooth like butter and the older woman chuckled, hand on her hip as she watched him pick out a booth.

“And you’re lucky I’m pushin’ seventy,” she teased back with a wink.

“Age is just a number!” Tyler played along and you rolled your eyes.

“We’ll take a couple iced teas, please,” you cut in, Dottie giving you a knowing smile and it made your cheeks flush again.

“And fries,” Tyler added, sliding into a booth by the window and you followed suit, sitting across from him on the glittering red plastic of the seat.

“You got it, hoss,” Dot nodded, hollering the order back over her shoulder to the kitchen and pouring two big glasses of her famous sweet iced tea.

Picking at the peeling vinyl table top, your knee bounced, a silent protest at having to be still for a minute.

You always made sure to keep yourself busy. To keep your mind from wandering off back home and everything that came with it, and sitting across from Tyler Owens at the quiet little diner while Dolly Parton sang overhead about working nine to five wasn’t doing you any favors.

“So,” Tyler started, dragging out the ‘o’ and lifting his brows at you, “How’re the girls?”

The girls. The chickens.

You deadpanned him and shook your head, propped your chin in your hand with your elbow on the table.

“They’re fine.”

“Good, good. And the Calhouns?”

“Also fine,” you shot him a look, a side-eye glance, but he only smiled.

“And did you get your boots worked in for Friday?”

“Tyler,” you firmed, turning finally to look at him straight on and his smile faded.

“What?”

“All this–this small talk and being chummy and whatever, it’s just–”

“Just what?” he asked, leaning forward on the table toward you and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“What’s your game?” you leveled, meeting his gaze despite the way he had your pulse fluttering against your neck and his lips curved up.

“No game. Just bein’ a good neighbor.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned forward just a little more. “Thought you said you were good at chasin’ bullshit,” you pushed and he burned, a flush of red from the collar of his white t-shirt all the way up to his cheeks.

“Alright, two iced teas and some fries. You need anything else, peaches?” Dot cut right between the two of you with a couple of glasses and a red plastic basket piled high with shoestring french fries.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tyler recovered, thankful for the out and took the basket from Dot. “Think that’ll do it for now.”

“Mmhm,” Dot murmured, clicking her long pink nails on the table top. “You two be good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” fell out of Tyler’s mouth automatically as she left you it.

You picked up a bottle of ketchup and squeezed some into the corner of the basket, swirling a fry around in it and lifting it to your lips to take a bite. Maybe you should be nicer to Tyler, should give him a chance, the benefit of the doubt, but you weren’t about to be made a fool again. Weren’t ready to put your walls down yet even if he was mostly sweet and only a little sour – the fun kind – but maybe it wasn’t fair.

“Gonna be outta town on Tuesday,” Tyler started, looking over at you through the long sweep of his lashes, green eyes meeting yours across the table. “In case you punch a hole through your wall or something.”

“Ha, ha. Should do stand up.”

He grinned. “You wanna come with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“With you?”

“Yeah, I gotta go pick up a case of rockets for our next video series.”

You scoffed, half-laugh half-nerves, but didn’t say no and his grin widened, eyes narrowed and almost closed with the way he was smiling so big.

“Pick you up at six,” he grabbed a bunch of fries and shoved them into his mouth, “Includes complimentary coffee.”

And something in you melted with the way he was looking at you. The way you could hear the tease in his tone softening and shifting more sincere and you cracked and finally gave him a real, honest-to-god smile.

“Fine,” you surrendered as he slapped a hand on the table and made you jump.

“Hell yeah,” he buzzed and you laughed, dropping your gaze to your lap so he couldn’t see you blushing.

“Keep your pants on,” you chided and the laugh that pushed from his lungs was hard enough to made his head tip back on the seat, but then you felt a buzz in your pocket.

You weren’t expecting a call.

Then Tyler’s buzzed on the table top.

And Dot’s from back behind the counter.

And the farmer’s at the booth behind you and when the siren sounded from down the street your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” Tyler breathed.

Jolting up from the table he pressed a hand to the window and looked out across the plains stretching out ahead of you. Cotton candy clouds turned dark and heavy, curling in on themselves and tinged in an eerie yellow and when he finally turned to look back at you, the feeling in your stomach twisted into something more ominous.

A storm was coming.

[ NOTE -> THIS IS PART 1 OF A 3 PART SERIES – STAY TUNED FOR THE LAST INSTALLMENT! ]

crappymixtape™ • tyler owens / twisters masterlist to come! ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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miley1442111 · 5 months

Text

(part 2) choices and chances- art donaldson

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: the last time you're second-place to tashi

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: angst, feelings of disappointment, hurt, etc. +

PART 2 of 12

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Art ran through the science building, tennis bag swinging from his back as he raced through students to get to you. Patrick was hot on his heels, shouting ‘where are you going?’ and ‘can you slow down?!’.

Art did not slow down. Art kept running.

He knew this was his last and final chance, that if he didn’t make it to this, he would lose you for good. He was still sweaty from a warm-up session with Tashi 10 minutes ago, his hat was practically falling off his head but he couldn’t have cared less.

As he came to a halting stop outside the lab you were having an exam in, his heart dropped when he saw the lights off and the chairs empty. He checked the time, 2:48pm. Your exam finished at 2:30, right?

Art opened your texts and scrolled back to the text in which you had told him about the date of your final exam, asking him to pick you up at 2:00pm.

“Fuck!” Art shouted, gaining many stares from the students around him. He quickly dialled your number (he had learnt it by heart) only to be met with an automated voice telling him that his number was blocked. “Fuck!”

His tennis bag was swung to the floor and he sat against the wall, anger and shame eating at him. You had a match against Tashi and a final science lab today, and he was too busy with Tashi, helping her warm up when he should've been with you.

“Hey, at least you’re off the hook,” Patrick patted him on the shoulder and Art blew up.

“I don’t want to be off the hook! I want her to be angry with me, I want her to see me, to want to see me! I want her to fight with me, because that’s all we fucking do nowdays and it’s all my fucking fault! Once again, I ruined the best chance I’ve ever had with tennis!” He shouted, standing up tall in front of Patrick. “And yes, Patrick, I’m aware that you’re dating Tashi and that you think I’m jealous, well I’m fucking not! I just want my girlfriend to still want to be my girlfriend! My Y/n to still be my Y/n! So don’t come to me every fucking time Tashi pisses you off, telling me that ‘I can have her’ because I don’t fucking want her!”

Patrick sat there stunned. Art had never raised his voice at him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find my girlfriend,” Art said after gaining his composure once more, and starting to walk down the hall.

“Ex-girlfriend!” Patrick shouted after him, rubbing salt in the wound. Art flipped him his middle finger, and set off to find you.

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Art didn’t find you before the match, but he was sitting beside an upset Patrick.

You came out in your Nike tennis outfit, Tashi in her Adidas, and the match began.

What ensued was real tennis. Tashi was talented, yes. But you, you were on fire. You beat Tashi Duncan. You actually beat Tashi Duncan.

Art couldn’t have been more proud. Or worried.

What if this actually was his last chance and he blew it on Tashi?

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He knocked on your dorm door with a bunch of lilies in his hand, your favourite. He had a whole plan, he would apologise, grovel, congratulate, then fuck you. Then, he’d spend all weekend with you and go into San Francisco for a city break.

You opened the door wearing one of his sweaters, a sleepy, but upset look in your eyes. “What?”

“Can we talk?” He asked, a smile on his face at your beautiful and drowsy state.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes and stepped outside instead of letting him in. Odd.

“I’m so sorry, I thought that the final ended at 2:30 and when I got there you were gone-”

“What time did you get there?” You asked, crossing your arms across your chest.

“2:30?” he lied.

“No you didn’t. I waited until 2:40 for you Art, fucking praying you would show up, don’t lie to me.”

Art sighed. “I’m sorry baby.”

“Look Art, I’m getting really tired of being second place to everyone, sorry- to Tashi, in your life so please just let me go,” you asked. “Now, I would really like to get back into my dorm.”

Art knew he had to fight for you. “Please, I wanted to make it up to you, I thought he could go to San-Fran this weekend, just you and me, no tennis, no distractions.”

“I have a match this weekend Art,” you rolled your eyes and Art sighed, realising he’d forgotten. “Y’know, the one you promised me you’d be at so you could meet my parents?”

“Yes of course, you know I’ll be there, I meant after we could go to San-Fran,” he smiled, his hands on your hips.

“Don’t bother coming, we’re done,” you shoved his hands off your body and walked back to your door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very hot guy from my science class who would like to fuck me again, so I’ll see you around Arthur.”

You slammed the door in his face and his heart broke, he had lost you.

He had made his choices, and lost all of his chances.

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navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

PART 3: choices and meetings

art donaldson masterlist :)

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers #art challengers #mike faist x reader #mike faist #zendaya #tashi duncan #patrick zweig #luca guadagnino

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miguel-owhora · 4 months

Text

dragon!price who's an alpha—a lonely alpha. he's been alone for quite some time now, his nest barren and empty, no mate to sing dragonic songs back to him miles away, no mate to rekindle the embers in his heart.

his hoard—sorry, the 141—help him fill these empty spots. soap's rambunctious attitude and gaz's encouragement and ghost's dryly amused comments fill in the lonely parts, bringing him down from the soaring heavens and back to the ground, where price hears the thumping of the earth's core if he falls back into his dragonic instincts deep enough.

dragons are rare to come nowadays. most spend their lives in secrecy, in some rural land most would struggle to pronounce the names of, spent hiding in either solitude or with their mates—and in certain cases, families.

so imagine price's surprise when laswell drops in a new member into his little hoard. she says it's temporary, but there's a glimmer on her eyes when she says it, one that makes sense when price sees you—another dragon.

an omega, price's alpha brain tells him, awakening with glee at another dragon hybrid, at someone who could complete him. a potential mate.

price's alpha instincts are purring when he introduces himself, and he must look like a fool, when he hears his boys sniggering in the background. something lights up something in his chest, instincts roaring to life, when you smile at him and shake his hand. your hand makes his burn, hotter than anything else, hotter than the fire he hatched out of.

it comes to no surprise to him when you're even more reserved than ghost. dragon hybrids are already secretive as they are; omega dragon hybrids are worse. but eventually, price worms his way past the walls you've put up and the fun part comes: courtship.

for every type of naturalborn hybrid that roams earth, they each have their own courtship rituals. for many of them, alphas must prove their worth to their potential mate. werewolf hybrids will bring back game, will defend territory; harpies—depending on which region they live in—will also prove their worth by bringing back prey and helping to build nests.

price can recall the number of times soap had dragged in the corpse of a deer, still warm and fresh to ghost, or how gaz had proudly weaved a wall of brambles and sticks (nevermind the nails and sharp blades) outside ghost's private room. it amused him to no end, seeing them fall prey to their instincts.

but price isn't laughing when he succumbed to his own instincts.

your introduction to the team and you letting price get close to you already had his dragonic alpha mind reeling with excitement. even moreso when you approved of him courting you.

now, dragon hybrids were something else. oftentimes, they were more older than the other hybrids, more ancient and forged deep within the earth's core, connected to mother earth like no other. as such, their courting rituals were more.. barbaric, in other words.

price feels alive when he has to fight you, when your claws dig at his skin and his teeth at your shoulder, near your bite mark. when you roar with fury and punch him away, when your omegan sex has his alphan sex pumping with life. when you both tear up the training room, your set of wings flapping and glittering underneath the artificial lights, when price finally pins you down, when you give a purr of approval.

price finds the prettiest items and gifts them to you, when he dances between feeling overjoyed when you accept it, feeling like he's been stabbed when you reject it. gift by gift price feels pride bloom within him when he sees your little gift hoard grow. when he gifts you a pack of his cherished cigars and gives you his signature hat, he has to go outside and do circles in the heavens when you accept it with gentle hands and carefully guard it.

all of his hard work pays off when you tug him by his scruff and take him to your bedroom, where your bed is carefully nestled with different blankets, with clothes that reek of him. he feels like the luckiest man when you strip yourself of your clothes and lay on the bed, letting your wings—gorgeous things they are—spread out underneath you, take up the bed. your cock, hard and leaking and big, lays on your belly, cum pooling like ichor.

you spread your legs, the scent of an omega ready to mate and take what's theirs, registering in price's brain. it's all he needs before he's racing to tear his clothes off and climbs on you.

he's purring loudly when he touches you all over, dipping his head to kiss at your body, thankful that you gave him the chance to prove his worth. your scent is thick and heavy, musk strong. it makes the embers in his chest flicker and grow to a small fire.

the fire grows when he slips his cock inside, shuddering at how tight and hot you are, burning him. you don't help him, content to lay back and let him figure it out, but price is more than happy to do it by himself. anything for you.

he gets you to cum several times, spilling all over your belly, makes you whimper his name, dig your claws into his back and pull him close to kiss him hard.

price is only ever given permission to cum when you decide he's worthy. your claws dig into your chest and rip it open, an ancient heart beating, cracks of old magic glowing an unusual color. price knows what's to come, but he still grits his teeth when you also rip his chest open.

his knot is forming, catching on your hole, when the two hearts—ancient and waiting for each other after so many years—intertwine together. price pushes his knot in and finally cums, fuck, he shudders and moans, in pleasure and in pain when he feels your anal barbs dig around his cock and knot, making sure he's secured for a while.

the world seems brighter when he collapses on you, open chests bleeding together. he gives little nudges of his hips, cockhead kissing your womb, brushing against your prostate. he feels you sigh contently, and price's heart is a wildfire.

#mr. o'whora's works !#price x male reader #john price x male reader #captain price x male reader #captain john price x male reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #x male reader #mlm #gay #gay smut

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rebelliousstories · 5 months

Text

Peachy

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Strong Language, Brief Violence, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,785

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Part Two: Pretty as a Peach

Summary: Lucy gets a front row seat to the strange happenings in the Wasteland.

It should be a crime for the day to be this hot. With the sun beating down, it felt like she was going to die rather imminently. But that Ghoul behind her back kept marching her forward whenever she tried to drop. It was not until they made it to some abandoned, two-story building, that the duo was finally able to be granted a moment’s reprieve.

“Sit down Vaultie.” The Ghoul demanded, leading the woman to sit against the worn out walls and dimpled stone. The cool rock felt blessed beneath her body. Even through her Vault-Tech suit insulated her against a lot of the extreme weather, enough was able to slip through for her to begin to cool down.

“That’s a girl. Stayin’ the night here, but I wouldn’ go wanderin’ after dark. A lotta things worse than a ghoul round here.” He spoke once more, starting to gather carve himself a little spot where he could rest.

“Where are we?” Lucy finally asked, voice rasped with dehydration and exhaustion. However, the man did not answer. He simply stretched out his long limbs, and placed his hat over his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

“Where are we?” She pleaded once more, to which the Ghoul was not sympathetic to.

“Hey!” Yelling now, the Ghoul picked his hat up from his eyes and set it back on his head while looking at the girl he held.

“Now, am I gonna have to cut out that tongue in order to get some peace and quiet?” Lucy was taken aback, and could not quite tell if he was joking or not. Taking his moment of silence, the man swept his hat over his eyes once more; but it did not last long. The clattering of something nearby caught the attention of the vault dweller, and surface dweller. With a heaving groan, the Ghoul stood back up, placed his hat on his head, and looked around. Lucy also tried to look, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary for the surface.

“Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time.” He muttered under his breath. Spurs clicked as he walked around and took inventory. But the clattering of a can behind him made the Ghoul pull his pistol and aim. There was nothing behind him, though. Lucy watched intently as the man surveyed his surroundings, and was just a beat too late to warn him about the shadowy figure to his back.

“Behind you!” The Ghoul did not have time to fire off a round. The figure jumped on his back, and locked on. He tried to swivel the creature off, but to no avail. Dropping to a knee, the Ghoul threw his assailant off of hm and on to the ground below. Whoever it was, they were fast. Reaching a leg up, the person managed to get him in a headlock with their legs, and rolled them around until they emerged on top. Pinning his hands down with both of theirs, the attacker shimmied out of the mask covering the bottom half of their face. It was a woman; a really pretty one at that.

“Hiya, Coop.” She teased, switching to a one handed hold on his wrists to snatch his hat off of his head. The piece of clothing was set upon her own head as a lazy smirk was pulled from his face.

“Well, if it ain’t my darling little peach.” He drawled. Once her other hand came down to rest on his wrists again, he switched their placements in the blink of an eye. Now, both of her wrists were in one of his, while his other came to rest behind her head. Cooper bucked the young woman up and off, spinning them around to pin her t the floor.

“Careful with that tone, Ghoul. Someone might think you missed me.” Once again, she was teasing. She spread her legs a little wider to accommodate him, and trailed one of them up to rest along his back. In turn, Cooper leaned down to get right up close to her face.

“Aww, we wouldn’t want that. Now would we, peaches?” A wicked smile decorated his face that she mirrored, and it seemed they were both trapped in their own little world for a time.

“How can you like him like that?” A high, feminine voice broke them free of their trance. Both Wastelanders looked over to the vault dweller with a mix of annoyance, confusion, and upset over being interrupted.

“Hope you’re not thinking of replacing me with that.” The woman, still pinned underneath the Ghoul, spoke. Her words did not sound as harsh as they should have; perhaps it was the smile that still plagued the woman’s face that offered her a softer edge that the usual surface dwellers Lucy had met thus far.

“Believe me, peach. Ain’t nothin’ able to replace you.” Cooper groaned out, letting the woman come to to sit and observe the woman before them.

“Ooo. You got yourself a Vaultie? You know how much they go for?” The woman asked, watching Lucy’s eyes widen in shock and horror. As much as she wanted to keep it going, the woman began laughing as she saw the expression on the vault dweller’s face.

“Nah, ‘m just messing with you. I ain’t got no clue how much y’all are worth. Probably a lot though. Whatcha doin’ travelin’ with this bag o’ bones?” Being friendly was confusing yet refreshing to Lucy, even as the mysterious woman remained tangled up in Cooper’s arms.

“Oh,” Lucy perked up, “well, I’m looking for my father. It’s a really long story but you are by far the nicest person I have met on the surface. My name is Lucy, and you are?” She rattled off, unable to contain her nerves or speech.

“Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve used my real name, I’ve nearly forgotten it. He calls me peach or some variation of it so-” squeaking out, the woman turned to see that Cooper had pinched her side hard in a warning.

“Okay. Not allowed to call me that then.” She supplied her real name afterwards, and saw the vault dweller before her visibly relax.

“Now that that’s out of the way, I bring gifts.” Untangling herself from the Ghoul, she made her way to where her bag was dropped. Lucy guessed that was what they heard falling before the ‘fight’ broke out. She pulled out a few cans of food, presumably, and tossed them to Cooper, however one of the cans was tossed towards Lucy. Reading the front of the label, she took not that it was a Vault-Tech brand of pie filling.

“Sugar, you shouldn’t have.” Cooper drawled, gratefully taking the jerky and chems that were provided.

“Well, figured you’d want a little gift for all your troubles.” Effortlessly, she just kept emptying her bags. Right when you think she is done, she would pull out more from the same place. It was, honestly, a wonder.

“One last thing. Just for us tonight.” Holding a can in her hands, she pulled a knife from her belt to begin cracking it open. The label was long since gone from it, but that didn’t stop them from eagerly tearing into it. Once she was close enough, she sat down and allowed Cooper to take it from her hands. He finished the job of getting the lid off of the can, and let delight take over his scarred features.

“Now, where’d you find this, peach?” He asked, letting her tuck herself under his arm to get closer.

“Trader I went to had a whole shipment of them Georgia. Well, what’s left of it. Anyways, you should be thankful I managed to get some. That one can cost me two hundred and fifty caps.” While his eyes did not bug out of his skull, his brow area did raise considerably when he heard the price.

“Careful, peach. Someone might think you like me.” Cooper stabbed a thick, juicy slice and brought it up to the woman’s lips to let her take a bite off, before bringing the other half of the slice to his own lips. A sinful groan was released from the both of them as they allowed the sugary sweet fruit to explode. It was a taste that Cooper was not sure if he would ever taste again after the bombs destroyed the world as he knew it.

“Is that peach? Is that what it’s supposed to taste like?” She asked, hoping sh had gotten it right. The Ghoul stabbed yet another slice and repeated the process from before as he watched the woman intensely.

“Yep. That is the sweet taste of peach, alright.” With how he was staring at her, the woman was not sure that he was talking about the fruit anymore. They continued to swap the fruit back and forth as they finished the can. When it got down to the juices, she pushed the can closer to him, encouraging him to take the drink. And he did; but that was not the end of it. As he drank down the last gulp of juices from the can, Cooper grabbed her chin, pressed his lips to hers, and pushed some of the liquid into her mouth instead. She chased the taste on his lips once she had taken her drink, and let herself get lost in the moment. He pawed at the layers covering her body, but the sound of Lucy finishing her can brought them out.

“I don’t feel like having an audience tonight, cowpoke.” She whispered, breathless, against his face. The hat was still set atop her head, and it was not going to be leaving anytime soon. A yawn tore through the woman in his arms, before being caught by Lucy against the stone.

“Really startin’ to get pissed at this Vaultie, peaches.” He whispered back, pressing another kiss to her lips, before returning to their previous position.

“Get some shut eye. We leave at day break.” Cooper said with a definitive tone, leaning his head back against the wall in an effort to sleep. The woman below him cuddled herself into his chest and drifted off to sleep without a worry of being attacked in her sleep. Lucy was the last one to close her eyes, but not the last one to fall asleep. Her mind raced with questions she wished she could ask, but thought better of not asking. Hoping that the mystery woman was there in the morning, the vault dweller and surface dwellers found themselves in the land of dreams before long, hoping and trying to survive till the next sunset.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #the ghoul fallout #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul

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inspiredrawaw · 16 days

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Hellll Yeha tell me more about your atelier au! Is Stan a brimhat? Or is he a good law abiding witch? What happened to ford?

I WOULD LOVE TO!! Also Same Hat with Witch Hat Atelier gravity falls au 🤝 Stan is not a brimhat! While he’s dabbled in forbidden spells and witch crimes he purposely wears a witch’s cap. This keeps him under the radar plus the Brimhats creep him out. He has never been a law abiding citizen! I don’t think it’s part of his vocabulary. and now onward to Stanford Pines!

After graduating and becoming a full witch he moved to Gravity Falls sets up his atelier there and looks into the magic of the small town. When he eventually came to a halt on his research he finds a cave painting of Bill just instead of the ritual to summon bill it’s the mind control sigil that at first just allows Bill into Fords mind and through some fun manipulation Bill convinces ford to inscribe a sigil on his witch cap that gives Bill full control. I drew out an idea of the mind control sigil, I took the memory wipe sigil from WHA with some creative liberties and added in the symbol for fire. During this time Ford becomes a full brimhat. This is after magic started becoming limited on who can practice it. Bill also convinced Ford to build a window/portal to where Bills been trapped. When he gets paranoid and contacts Stan he still tries to push Stan away leading into a fight causing Ford getting sucked into the window/portal. He gets trapped where Bill is trapped. The forest of mazes. It’s specifically built to keep dangerous people in like Bill Cipher. Hence why Fords never been able to escape. This also starts Stan’s development from regular human to full witch with the help from Fords journal and various books around his atelier. The journals play a very similar role. They are Fords research notes but as the journals progress and get more unhinged Ford also writes more on forbidden spells. When Stan finds out that Dipper has journal 3 he is really hesitant on giving it back to Dipper but trusts him and gives it back.

and some notes on this piece! ford was easier to come up with a design for because of how easier to it to change a trench coat into a witch’s robe. His current witch’s cap is made by Mabel :]. We also get to see younger Ford and Stan on the days they Fucked Up. I also started showing bits of Bill Ciphers abilities. Since the Brimhats are humans who used magic to become enhance their abilities and also the Big Bad Guy, and also also so far in my rereading of WHA there’s no mentions on demons or gods. So for Bill he’s just a Brimhat but a very charismatic Manipulative cult like brimhat

this is.. a lot of writing hope you enjoy my ramblings on my gravity falls au, Gravity Atelier AU. I like thinking and talking about this AU :]

#Gravity falls #my art #gravity falls au #gravity atelier au #witch hat atelier #fanart #Stanford pines #ford #ford pines #Art #bill cipher #triangle #brim hats #witch #ask #thanks for the ask!!!

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allfearstofallto · 5 months

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Let's do something different and imagine things the other way!

Yandere! Reader x Scaramouche

TW: Yandere obsessive themes, very tragic back story, mention of character death

A/N: just a short idea from the drafts! :)

You're not obsessed, you tell yourself after your months of rigorous training, after joining the Fatui, even after working so hard, that you earned yourself a vision that lay on your hip. You're normal. You're not constantly thinking of the man, who's visage is like a blurry memory of your past, but if you saw him, you'd know for sure that it was him.

How many years ago was it? You weren't sure you could count such a thing, but you remember being too young to understand death. Too young to get why your parents, or even the rest of your humble village wasn't waking up. Why red was dripping from their lips and their fingers felt cold. You weren't old enough to understand that no one was left, no one but you.

It didn't take long for hunger to set in. Too small and weak to even start a fire, you ate what little scraps you could find. You couldn't leave. Not even when the village ran out of food you could eat, the rest rotting away. Or when the well ran dry. Or when the smell of decay set in and there was nothing left for you to mourn. You couldn't leave because you had no where to go. You wouldn't even know what direction to head in and the fear of setting off into the wilderness with no destination was scarier than just waiting out in your village.

He arrived on a particularly cloudy day, one where the wind smelled of rain. A part of you thought you made him up, but when your big eyes met his and he looked upon you, you knew he was real. He looked disgusted at your display at first, then a bit sorrowful. He stayed beside you as the rest of the armored people he came with went through the houses, breaking doors and windows like they were looking for something.

An apple was dropped into your lap. The first fresh fruit you'd seen in days and you scarfed it down like an animal, even licking the juice from your fingers.

"You were left behind too, huh?" He questioned, making you tilt your head in confusion. It was only now when the pains of hunger weren't ripping through your body did you truly get a good look at his face. His skin pale and indigo hair covered by a large hat. When a raindrop fell and hit your nose, he lifted that hat from his head and placed it on yours, shading you from the impending downpour, "I can't tell if you're weak or strong, having lived this long."

He took you with him, letting you sit next to him as the two of you rode on the back of his carriage. He didn't have much to say and you didn't have much to talk about, but you still found yourself staring at him. Drinking in every inch of his features, every part of his face and body. He was dressed lavishly, with clothes so vibrant, yet so different than what you knew. He was perfection in the human form, even young you could see that.

You were left at a random city, at an orphanage. So far away from home, but similar at the same time. His hat was lifted from your head and your hair was ruffled by his long fingers. And then he was gone. You stayed at the door and watched the way the tassles of his hat swayed in the wind. You remembered everything about him. Including his name. Lord Scaramouche, they called him.

With the way you talked about the man who saved you all those years as you aged, it was no surprise that you joined the Fatui. It was no surprise that you got a vision. It wasn't even a surprise when you cheerfully waved goodbye to your siblings at the orphanage, telling them that you were off to Inazuma, where you knew his clothes were from.

He didn't look any different. That's all you could think about when you were bowed before him, head lowered as a sign of commitment. He looked over you and the rest of the new recruits in disgust, a face that made most fearful, but only made you heart beat faster, a blush forming on your face. You'd found him. And he was as breath taking as he was before. Only this time, you didn't intend to ever let him leave your sight.

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere reader #yandere reader x character #Scaramouche x reader #yandere imagines

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wraithdance · 1 month

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Damn I'm still getting notifications on this so I guess I'll elaborate on it for funsies lol

Content warning: AFAB!Reader, terrible british-isms, Reader is a firefighter and idk shit about that life lol, very NY/American coded, explicit language. Shorty getting tossed around like a hot n ready in the next part I just love to set the scene a lil lmao

Part one: The Firefighter

Your mother had always told you two things: 1) not to write a check that your ass can’t cash and 2) A hard head made for a soft ass. Unfortunately for you, you never listen.

You were on the downward slope of a 48 hour shift and feeling every bit of it. Your captain had taken no mercy on the splitting headache you were nursing and designated you to crowd control on the northern sector of the McCallen theater. The heat of the flames enveloping the old building didn’t help with the already stifling heat wave. Sweat slides down your neck in uncomfortable pools that soak the under clothes beneath your turnout gear.

While in the middle of reassuring an elderly woman whose granddaughter was in the building you’d caught sight of a large form attempting to cross the barrier from the corner of your eye. You’d whipped your head around so fast you’d damn near given yourself whiplash.

“Hey, get back behind the line!”

Your words die in your throat when you come face to face with the fucking grim reaper. He’s broad and dressed in layers of black from head to toe. His eyes, or what you can see of them from behind the eye black, bore into you from beneath his balaclava.

What the fuck?

There's a moment where your throat closes up and your muscles lock despite your body screaming at you to run the other way. It’s not until he seems to dismiss you and turns like he’s going to continue on his merry way, that you gain back your senses.

“Hey I said get back behind the line are you crazy?!” You bark, grabbing the sleeve of his jumper.

Who the hell wears a sweatshirt in the middle of June?

“This is an active fire! ”

He looks at your offending hand and makes a sound you can only describe as a snort.

“Ya’ can bloody see that.”

This motherfu-

“Good job jackass,” You say between grit teeth “I’m glad you can see the fire, funny enough you can also see it from behind. the. damn. LINE!”

The grim reaper twitches and if it's possible he looks bigger as he turns his full body towards you.

You’re too hopped on adrenaline to give a shit about his posturing. You’d worked with sweaty macho guys for six years at the station and had been around servicemen your whole life. There wasn’t a pissing contest around that you would ever back down from. So, you puff out your own chest and meet him head on.

“Sir, I’m not going to ask you again, get behind the barrier.”

“Or wot.” you think you might actually catch a murder charge.

“You get behind the line like I asked you to, big boy, or I’ll toss your ass over it myself” You hiss. The big fuck just narrows his eyes in consideration. You’re preparing to make good on your threat, when another voice cuts in.

“Riley, What's the problem here?”

Great two of them.

The second man is not as broad as the weirdo in black, but still just as barrelled chested. He maneuvers around the barrier like it's just a concept and not a physical deterrent. You have to roll your eyes at his boonie hat and the outdated beard. He had the same fashion sense as your grandpa.

He stops beside the reaper's right side and crosses his stocky arms over his chest, his beard twitching as he takes in your stance. There's something in his blue eyes that you might call appreciation, if it didn’t make you feel like you were on a serving platter.

You really didn't have time for this shit!

“Like I told your friend here, I need you both behind the line, you're getting in the way of my job and I’m tired of repeating myself.”

It might have been a childish thing to do but you can’t help yourself when you make rude shoo-ing motions with your hands.

The newcomers' eyes tighten inauspiciously. An imperceptible look passes between the two mountains that you can’t read. It makes you shudder which only stands to piss you off further.

It’s not the first time you’ve had some hyper masculine fuck question your authority while on a rescue. Hell, it's come to be expected at this point and you’d joined an online support group for firefighters who experienced the same for being non-cis white dudes.

The issue is whatever energy these monsters disguised as men are emitting, is disorienting. Normally you would have asked for back up after the second time your request was ignored. Yet your radio still sits at your shoulder and your hands are shaking beneath your thick gloves.

After a beat the man with the boonie hat speaks, identifying himself as the leader of the two.

“Listen love, we’re SAS, we can help with the rescue if you just point us in a direction.”

Your eyes are rolling before he even finishes, you knew it. Macho men.

“That’s nice and I’m auditioning for the Wiz! We have everything under control gentlemen but thank you for the offer!”

Maybe it’s the migraine or the lack of sleep, but you can’t help but to dig the knife in deeper just a little bit. You’re smiling with your teeth and speaking in a baby voice before you can think twice about it.

“Why don’t you big strong men sign up for the next station tour and I’ll give you a nice badge and a sucker!” You clap your hands in mock excitement, before flattening your tone and expression “So that way, when you wanna play firemen, you can do it without jeopardizing the professionals! Fuck you very much, get off of my scene.”

Looking back it was probably the thing that doomed you, but you’d been too caught up in the moment to see it that way. Your radio had rattled off with the sound of your captain calling you in for an assist.

You hadn’t thought to really sus out the reaction of the men you’d bitched out. Had been all too happy to give up your position dealing with them to a wet behind the ears rookie.

After getting the fire under control and surviving the end of your shift you’d gone home and face planted on the couch. After chugging down your weight in electrolytes and ramen, you joined the server for the firefighter’s support group.

You’d been soothed by the jokes your online support system cracked when you retold the clusterfuck of a day. Before logging off for the night you get a friend request from some random account with a string of numbers and a skull icon. You snort but look through the profile. Scoffing when you see that it was made in the last hour.

Fucking bot accounts. You’d have to ask the mods to check out their spam filters next time they were on.

Ugh, you needed a bath.

Preview of next part:

“Open your mouth.”

Your eyes widen and you struggle against the tight grip around your chin. His warm hands only tighten, causing your lips to pucker. A husky laugh sounds from behind your shoulder and you can feel the brush of cotton against your ear.

“C’mon pretty girl, open up, captain just wants to give you a sucker.”

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bitchimasnake-sss · 2 months

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i had this idea for ace x reader id love to see😭 basically idk something along the lines of the reader being apart of the whitebeard pirates and ace having a crush on them/pining for them and they stop at some island to chill/celebrate or something and while partying later in the night reader tells ace he can kiss them if he catches them and after a bit of (playful) runing reader goes into the water at some beach and ace obviously cant follow bc of his devil fruit and yesh djdjjdhd idk how it would play out but lets say ace somehow ends up getting that kiss :3 you’re very much free to add to the story or change it!!

heheheh, this is so cute. i am an ACE TRUTHER FOR LIFE AAAAAAAH *rips my shirts and turns into a wolf* [i-ignore the fact that this has been a wip for about... 1.5 months now, im sorry. i will repent.]

❤️‍🔥hey! that's unfair! ft. portagas d. ace

set-up: as mentioned above by anon! playful banter, nicknames, chasing each other around. that's just part of being a crew, isn't it? okay, but what if your very attractive crewmate was running after you to kiss you? not very crew-mate-y of them, is it? warnings: NOT PROOFREAD CAUSE MY BAD, DUDE. nothing major cause i have wrote enough smut to last me a lifetime and i need a cleanse. contains playful banter/flirting, mentions of the asl brothers' past, "slut" as a joke. ace ughhh light me up. [my digital footprint goes crazy, but so does yours.] wc: 2.5k

"slut behaviour." your drawled out the words, nose scrunching up as you looked up at the man. your fingers drew patterns into the coarse sand, as the man above you barked out a laugh.

"huh?" ace's eyes widened, a boyish grin overtaking his features as the sun shone from behind him. the winds from the sea almost blew his hat off, and he put a hand on his head as he peered you down, "what did you say?"

"i'm just saying~" you shrugged, eyes squinted to make out his face under the harsh backlight, fingers still writing something into the sand.

"you're saying i'm the slut?" he plopped down next to you on the beach mat once he was done setting the beach umbrella. giving you the same unabashed grin, he popped his knuckles, "that's harsh, dude."

"i'm not the one walking around with my top off all the time!" you stuck your tongue out and ace scrunched his nose up. he was adorable. "hey, i've told you. i run hot, okay?"

he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively next, "i've always said, you can sleep with me and find out the truth."

an aggressive blush blossomed from the tip of your nose to your ears, and you instinctively pushed ace away, "is that offer only for me? or can marco uncover the truth, as well?"

his expression turned sour, eyes squinting as if he had the worst daydream a man has ever known, "tch, why would you even make me imagine that?"

"mhm." you grinned, shooing him with a flick of your nail, "now, go get me some ice-cream."

"mean." he muttered, but got up nonetheless.

you stared at the gentle waves, the scorching sun, the wet sand that changed with every little movement of the ocean. your eyes travelled to your far right where some of your crewmates drank cocktails and some of the younger ones ran around, chasing each other with faux grievances.

then, your gaze fell atop portagas d. ace.

pops ruffled his hair and the fire-fist grinned in return, talking about some nonsense that you were sure to enchant everyone who stood there. he had that effortless thing going on. he could smile and offer out his palm and the entire crew will chop off their hearts to give it to him. how pretty. i mean— er, how pretty fucking annoying!

huh?! a nauseating feeling built up in your stomach as you tried to shake down these thoughts. it was wrong, ace was just a crewmate!

a crewmate who made you laugh till you cried, someone who would come running to you with gossips, buy you souvenirs when he went to visit luffy. someone who was just a crewmate. so, you really shouldn't be thinking how he made your chest tighten or about the way his biceps flexed, or the way his eyes glinted under the sunlight or the way his smile was so—

"—here you go, princess." he shoved the orange popsicle in front of your nose and you broke out of your daze. he sat next to you under the cool shade of the beach umbrella, sucking on his own blue-colored popsicle.

"who're you calling princess?" you muttered before chomping down on the ice-lolly, "your shampoo for a year would cost half my salary if i got paid."

"mmph huh? you are so mean—" he spoke with the popsicle still in his mouth, and you flicked his forehead at how dumb he looked. he grinned and you made fun of how his pretty lips were painted a dull shade of blue.

the two of you sat there in the shade, occasionally looking over to where the crewmates played volleyball. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to spend hours upon hours together. out of all the high ranking faction commanders, you two were the closest in age. he would often crash on your couch after a long day, and you would admire his annoying, freckled face. uh, no. what the fuck. knock it off. just a crewmate.

after a while, ace grew fidgety. fingers playing with the red beads of his necklace, mouth busy with the ice-cream stick, he asked you, "wanna play a game?"

"hm? sure." you slurped down the quickly melting ice-cream, "what is it?"

"it's called twenty questions." he balanced the small stick between his teeth, leaning back on his forearms. "luffy's navigator taught me the last time i visited them."

you hummed, "what do you do in that?"

"well, you ask twenty questions, genius." he laughed as you glared at him, and picked the ice-cream stick caught between his lips, "yeah, i figured that much out. i mean, that's it? just twenty questions."

"yeah." he nodded, eyeing the plucked wooden stick in your hands for a second before dragging his gaze up to yours. god, you were so pretty that some days ace wondered if he would go in overheating just by looking at you. probably not. but what if?

you flicked the stick away, turning towards him, "so, wanna play or what?"

turns out, ace is an absurd man. you found that out as you two were on your eighteenth question. the sun dipped below the horizon and the clouds reflected back myriad of shades, painting you and the man next to you in a thousand hues.

"huh?!" your eyes widened comically, words spluttering into a half-sob-half-laugh, "repeat that, please."

he nodded, repeating solemnly like he didn't hear himself, "i said if you had to fuck one warlord, who would it be?"

"jesus christ." your rubbed your temple, "i dunno, like mihawk? the emo thing kinda gets you going."

"tasteful choice, i agree. you think he's a vampire?" he brushed off the comment, shaking his head, "no, wait, we've seen him in the sunlight. wait, have we? anyways, your turn. ask away."

"well, i'll ask something normal." you hummed in deep thought before asking, "if you could have any devil fruit, which one would it be?"

"mine, obviously." he flashed you a cashmere smile, "somebody as hot as me must ofcourse have a hot power."

"you're cheesy as fuck," your lips puckered up as if you had something sour, "dumbass."

but marco called you both over to help set up the campfire. and so, you followed ace as you both got up to walk over to where the rest of the crew was. chatting, chugging bottles upon bottles of sake, and laughing about days long gone.

the sand got stuck between your toes, the wind blew your hair over and you could just watch awestruck as ace turned around, giving you a soft smile before tugging your wrist and running towards the crew.

"i'll fall!" you shrieked but followed him nonetheless. you would probably follow that man to the depths of hell, it seemed.

by the time you both were free, it was dark. the moon hung low, the sky lay exposed with millions of stars, the dying embers of the campfire still twinkling as ace sat down on a log next to you. the rest of the crew had either slept on each other or retired to their rooms, having drank down every inch of sake available.

"ugh," you groaned, "gotta restock in the next island."

ace laughed, and the sound was so soft. he sounded like a boy in a wrong reality, so young. "why are you so sad? didn't get any today?"

"as if i'd get any with those fuckers drowning anything that even barely resembled liquor." you grumbled, and the fiery boy could only stare at you for a second. taking in your barely illuminated form, the steady rise and fall of your chest, your eyes as you sighed and fluttered them shut, and your arms as you stretched them over your head.

you were adorable. and he was an idiot for fancying his own fucking crewmate.

he shook his head as if to gently pull himself away from staring at you too hard, and you turned to look at him strangely, "what?"

"n-nothing." the section commander muttered, choosing to look at the dying embers in front of him. blushing furiously, you chose to focus on the same welcome distraction.

you air grew thick with tension, the kind both of you got crushed under like bugs. so you cleared your throat, rubbing your palms together as you quipped up, "wanna finish that game?"

"yeah." ace mumbled, mindlessly copying your actions by running his palms against each other, "two more questions, right? you start."

mulling over his words for minute, you tipped your head back to gaze at the stars. you sighed, "if you weren't a pirate..." you paused, "then, what do you think, what kind of job would you have?"

he tipped his head back all the same, hand coming to rest a mere inches away from yours. the glowing charcoal casted a subtle glow against his toned chest, the metallic necklace shimmering against his skin. he finally spoke, "i don' know, really. just think i'll do everything to stay with my brothers. whether that's to become a thief, or to become a marine."

you slowly turned your face to look at the somber man next to you. portagas d. ace rarely got quiet. he was all high-spirits and boyish laughs, freckled nose scrunched up in mischief when he wasn't busy leading the whitebeards to victory. but whenever he got back from seeing luffy, there would be a certain gloom that clung onto his aching bones — the kind he tried to laugh away and hid behind bowls upon bowls of food.

you never understood why seeing his younger brother filled him to the brim with regret. after all, monkey d. luffy was all smiles and reckless punches, right? but one drunken night, he confessed to you about sabo. heavy words, forlorn eyes, a man racked up with guilt. no. a boy racked up with guilt over not being able to chase off death.

your fingers inched closer to his, and your pressed your soft palm against his hand. squeezing down slowly, you found yourself comforting the fire-fist without even as much as a single word.

now, the same man boy next to you cleared his throat, squeezing your soft hand right back. as he dragged his eyes from the night sky back to your face, he gave you an earnest smile, "but then, i would have never met you, and what a shame that would have been."

warmth blossomed from the tips of your fingers to the tip of your nose. what a bother. you huffed, trying to hide away anything that gave away your voracious heart, "you're so cheesy, ace."

"hah, only for you." he was all smiles. he snuck in a prolonged breath, "okay then... my turn, right? if you could join any other pirate crew which would it be?"

"aha, i know this!" you lit up, "your brother's."

"the strawhats?" ace looked genuinely surprised and you nodded, "i wanna see what kind of weirdo are you responsible for. up close."

"that's fair." he shrugged, "okay, last question. go."

"d- d'you think that some day..." you drawled on, fingers stilling against his warm skin, "that some day, we'd leave this place? retire, and do something else with our lives maybe. i don't know if i wanna still be running from marines when i'm all sagging skin and weak bones."

"do you wanna leave?" he asked softly, and you shook your head, "no. i love pops, obviously. but... like i said—"

"—you don't wanna be seventy and still with a bounty on your head?"

"maybe, yeah? if i live for that long, anyways."

"then, i suppose i would have no choice but to follow you. just promise me good food, and i'll come with." the man said it so easily, but he knew it with every inch of his heart. he would follow you to hell and back, if you ever let him.

"tch." you pulled your hand back to your chest, you palm still slightly warm from his body temperature, "what's gotten into you? stop flirting."

"okay, my last question. ready?" he spoke softly, gaze searching your face and studying the flush as you looked away from him.

portagas d. ace moved closer to you, his fingers gently taking your palm in his own slightly burnt ones, and interlocking them. he exhaled, eyes meeting yours, "if i kissed you right now, will you kill me? or will you kiss me back?"

what? your eyes instinctively moved to his pretty lips. soft, pink lips that you've daydreamed about too often in the past few days. should you lean in? or should you tease the man some more?

well, you've never been a saint, have you?

a smile tugged at your lips as you pulled at hand back to yourself again, "hm, i think i will kiss you back. but for that, you'd have to kiss me first."

and with that you took off.

"hUH?!" ace's voice shot up as you bolted away from him, and he chased after you without a second thought, "come back, oh my god."

the sand under you feet almost made you fall but you reached the sea before your crewmate could catch you. clothes growing heavy as they wetted, you moved inwards till you were submerged till your waist in the cold, oceanic water.

the water around you reflected the star-studded sky, and among them you looked like an ethereal being. divine.

"hey!" ace yelled, a small pout on his lips, "that's unfair! come back!"

you found yourself giggling, "why?" you pouted back, "come get your kiss, ace."

"ugh, aren't you troublesome?" he groaned but a grin broke out on his face as he walked towards where you stood, each step drawing you two close. when he stood barely a meter away, his feet wobbled, "if i faint, you're gonna have to carry me back princess style, understand?"

"why? marco will save you, princess. hey, don't fall!" you teased, but ace wobbled again and the smile on your lips shriveled up into a frown. you found your feet moving to him. fighting the push of waves, you reached the man and supported his figure. hands on his toned torso, eyes staring up at him, concerned. "are you okay?"

he wrapped his strong arms against you and grinned like the devil itself. you found the muscles flexing against your wet clothes, gaze trained as he stared you down. what an asshole. he was pretending.

you glared at portagas d. ace, "you cheated."

"no, i didn't." his face titled downwards expectantly, hot breath fanning your nose, "i just tried to get what was rightfully mine."

"and what's that?" you whispered up at him.

"this." his finger lifted your chin up and he pressed a soft, chaste kiss. his lips slotted against your, soft lips dancing against yours so gently. but then his grip on your chin tightened, and he pressed himself against you heavier.

hand tightening against your waist, chest flush against his and tongue passing your pretty lips. as ace pulled back, he smiled to himself. closed eyes, parted kiss-bitten lips and flushed nose and cheeks. what kind of forbidden alchemy were you? and how did he get so lucky?

"huh," you opened your eyes to catch his smile, "looks like you really do run warm."

and turns out he's not "just a crewmate" either. a day full of discoveries, it seems!

credits: @bucciniexe for the bby boy header! tagging: @help-i-lost-my-sock [i hope you genuinely like it!]; @chrollohearttags [ur tags on one of my ace fics were so funny, i had to tag you]; @tetsuskei [you told me ages ago to tag you in ace fics aaah :')] a/n: DROPPING TWO FICS IN TWO DAYS?! WHO AM I?1 omg i had so much fun writing this. don't tell anybody this, but i feel maybe my writing's block is slowly going away. yay! maybe i can upload consistently? who knows? anyways, ace has become one of my favs since i saw his greasy ass in alabasta and declared he's to be the father of my children [he's a 2d man, help].

#one piece #op #opla #portagas d. ace #ace fluff #ace x reader #ace x reader fluff #ace one piece #portagas d ace #one piece fluff #op fluff #vix writes <3

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wordslikesilver · 3 months

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I love what this DLC redefined about Melina. I never took to the gloam eyed queen theories, and now we learned about two incredible things in the DLC. The Minor Erdtree incantation finally explains in truth what the concept of Unalloyed Gold is, it is kindness without Order. I take this to refer to one’s love for a specific reason I’ll elaborate on in a moment. This explains several things. First, the flaw Marika discovered in the golden order was its compassion, its love and kindness. No matter what you think of the golden order as a regime, it still had that value of kindness deep down inside and that’s the flaw that goldmask identifies. The flaw within Marika herself that leaves her doomed by the narrative. It couldn’t be the Order that was the flaw, because that’s what failed Miquella when he tried to cure his sister of the rot. Miquella’s entire platform was kindness and acceptance of all. That’s the unalloyed gold that healed Malenia. Marika needed the Radagon aspect of herself to convince her Order was worth it all. And then she’d reached her limit and could take no more of it all. Enough. No more of this golden order. No more Erdtree. No more Elden Ring or greater Will or fingers pulling strings. Enough. And surely there was only one way in all the world she’d cope with the pain of losing Godwyn, of possibly even arranging his death so that the plan could be set in motion.

This is where the most beautiful tragedy of the DLC comes in. Miquella and saint Trina. He severs his love from his existence so that he could become a god. We learn that a demigod/god can sever parts of themselves that become living entities. This is how Radagon came to exist. But more importantly, this is how Melina came to exist. Melina, who fights with the grace of a black knife Numen woman, who keeps destined death sealed within her eye, who dreams of fire. Melina, who is kind and gentle and soft spoken. The girl who knows deep in her heart that no matter how grim it all may feel, there is hope and love in this world. The girl who can cast the ultimate healing incantation, minor Erdtree, and a version of it that we the players can’t even match in size and radiance. The kindness of gold, without order. Melina is Marika’s unalloyed gold, shriven clean from her body and given life. Her love, her kindness and all her weakness, turned into a young maiden who wants nothing more in all the world than to save her own mother from her suffering. Just like St Trina begs us to save Miquella from godhood, Melina begs us to help her free her mother from the prison of the Erdtree and godhood itself.

I love that this DLC recontextualizes Melina’s entire existence as Marika saying “If my love and my kindness are a flaw, then I will use them to burn this fucking place to the ground.”

Put on your tinfoil hat on for this last part but it’s too good not to think about, Melina fights like a black knife and carries destined death within her. Imagine if she was there that night to kill Godwyn. His mother’s love and kindness being the one to kill her most beloved child. Lower his guard, maybe. It’s so fucking raw imagining that and I lose my mind picturing the scene.

#elden ring #Marika #melina #Miquella #malenia blade of miquella #radagon #my writing #shadow of the erdtree

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lemoncrushh · 3 months

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Claiming His Territory

Summary: Harry gets jealous when he thinks another guy fancies you, and he decides to claim his territory.

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, possessiveness, angst. 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 4960

A/N: Here's another one shot from my 2016 collection. This was originally two parts, but I've combined them into one. Obviously, this is 1D Harry, and you're spending time with him on tour.

"Hey, Y/N," you heard a voice behind you say.

You quickly twirled around to see Dylan, the new drum tech, a huge grin on his face. He was carrying pieces of the drum kit as he was apparently making his way to the stage to set it up.

"Hey, you need some help with that?" you asked him, reaching for a cymbal that was slowly slipping from under his arm.

"Thanks," Dylan nodded sheepishly.

With a giggle, you took the cymbal from him and followed him through the backstage area. Your breath hitched in your throat as you stepped onto the stage and looked out at the empty seats. You'd seen this view a few times with Harry when you would come visit him on tour, but it never ceased to take your breath away. You still didn't know how he managed to face that many people night after night.

"You can just set that right there," directed Dylan, pointing at the floor next to the toms.

"Oh, okay."

"So how long have you been with One Direction?" asked Dylan as he adjusted the bass drum where he wanted it, a lock of his long blond hair falling over his right eye. You had already admitted to yourself a couple days ago when you'd first met that he was cute. And the way he smiled at you gave you goosebumps. But you were with Harry...

"Y/N," Dylan suddenly said, making you blink.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Dylan chuckled. "Is this your first tour with them?"

Finally understanding what he was asking you, you laughed and shook your head. "I don't work for them," you explained. "I'm not part of the crew."

"Oh!" exclaimed Dylan. "I just always see you in the hall helping somebody, I thought-"

"Heyyyy there you are!" a familiar voice sounded behind you. Before you could turn around, Harry had is arms wrapped around you, his lips on your jaw. "Been lookin' everywhere for you."

You swallowed hard as Harry's mouth trailed to your ear. "Um, I was just helping Dylan with the drums."

"Who's Dyl- oh, hey mate," said Harry, acknowledging the young man's presence.

Dylan jerked his head up with a curt nod, clearly now understanding that you were indeed not part of the crew, but Harry Styles' girlfriend. He fumbled with the hi-hat stand, nearly toppling it over when Harry grabbed your butt and you let out a squeal.

"Stop," you giggled, though you leaned back against him. "We're not alone, baby."

"Then let's go be alone," he murmured in your ear.

You rolled your eyes and looked over at Dylan just as Harry began to pull you back by your arm. "See ya, Dylan."

"Yeah, sure," he nodded again.

You kind of felt bad for the guy, but you didn't have time to dwell on it as Harry jogged down the hall, taking you with him. Finally pushing open a heavy black door, he pulled you inside, locking it behind you.

"I reckon somebody has a crush on my girl," Harry smirked, sliding his hands up your waist and back down.

"Oh please," you scoffed. "He was just being friendly. And I offered to help him with the drums."

"I could see the way he looked at you, love. His eyes said it all."

"I don't think he knew I was with you," you muttered as Harry's mouth found your jaw again and he backed you into the wall.

"Well, then, let's show him so he knows."

"What do you mean?" you teased.

"I mean 'm gonna leave my mark. To show you're mine." Harry lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with fire in them. "C'mere."

Harry guided you to the nearby sofa where he pounced on you. You giggled with glee as you playfully pawed at him, helping him remove his t-shirt followed by your own.

"Tell me where," you hissed as Harry swiped his tongue across your collarbone, unclasping your bra with one hand.

"Where what, baby?" he mumbled.

"Where you're gonna leave your mark."

A deep growl rose from Harry's chest as he lifted himself up to look at you. Dropping your bra on the floor and lightly dragging his finger across your neck he whispered "here...", then he did the same down your shoulder and collarbone, "here...and here...", finally dragging it to your breast. "And here..."

"Mmmm," you sounded, reaching for him and eager for him to get started.

Devouring your neck, Harry sucked hard, the blood rising to the surface quickly. The sting only made you want more as you hastily unbuttoned his jeans for him. But Harry wasn't finished claiming his territory just yet. You clawed at his arms as he slid down to wet the top of your chest with his tongue. Leaving his next mark, you arched your back with a moan.

"Harry..." you said breathlessly. "Touch me. Please."

"Where baby?" he asked. "Right here?"

Grazing his thumb across your right nipple, Harry took your left one into his mouth, swirling his tongue across it. You let out a kitten-like cry before saying his name again. Reaching for his hand, you guided it where you wanted it between your legs.

"Ah, right there?" Harry teased as he rubbed you over your jeans. "'s that where you wanna be touched, baby?"

"Mmm hmm," you nodded with a pout.

"Then let's get these off, yeah?" he raised a brow, quickly unbuttoning your jeans.

You kicked off your shoes just in time for him to slip off your pants and underwear, leaving your naked body trembling underneath him.

"So pretty," Harry murmured, swiping his fingers up your slit. "And always so wet for me."

You nodded with a shy smile.

"This is mine, innit?" he added as you opened your legs wider.

"Yes," you replied.

"Yeah," he nodded, licking his lips.

With his free hand, Harry managed to push down his already open jeans, freeing his erection. You blinked at the sight of it, though you'd already seen it several times. Removing his fingers from your wetness momentarily, he produced a condom from his pocket and rolled it on.

"You ready for me, love?" he inquired, positioning himself between your thighs.

"Always," you said.

Harry smirked as he pushed in slowly. "Yeah ya are. Always ready. And so warm. Fuck."

His eyelids heavy, he began to thrust deep inside so you could feel all of him, stretching you to fit around him. Tiny mewls escaped your mouth as you grasped at his shoulders.

"God damn, I love the sounds you make," groaned Harry. "So fucking sexy."

Biting your bottom lip, you reached above your head to grab hold of the armrest. Then you lifted your leg up against the back of the sofa. Harry tried his best to focus on your face while he pumped, his perfect mouth open.

"You're mine, yeah?" he breathed.

You nodded. "Yes."

"Yeah. Nobody else's. All mine."

You weren't really sure where this possessiveness had come from, but you kind of liked it. You liked being Harry's. And the idea he was claiming you turned you on.

Harry lowered his head again, nibbling on your neck and sliding down to suck another tender spot, no doubt leaving another mark. You heard him moan against your skin as he thrust harder and faster. You felt yourself reach the edge, a deep rumbling in your core.

"Fuck, Harry..." you cried.

"You gonna come for me?" he asked, lifting his head to look at you again.

You nodded, your eyes wide. Hard breaths puffed out of your mouth as you grabbed his hips, guiding him deeper.

"Right there," you instructed.

Harry covered your mouth with his, slipping his tongue inside to meet yours. You felt your orgasm rip through you then as you moaned against his lips. Harry bit your bottom lip, dragging his teeth across it before releasing it. His eyes looked wild as he stared at you. You could tell he was close.

"Does it feel good?" you asked him.

"Fuck yeah, baby. That pussy's so wet and all mine."

You grinned at him. "Yes, Harry. Take it, baby."

Harry shut his eyes as he let out a quick chuckle and licked his lips. With two more thrusts he was moaning your name as he came.

You laid on the couch together for a few minutes while you tried to wait for your breaths to even out. Suddenly you heard a soft pout before you felt a wetness on your neck. Realizing Harry was licking your skin, you giggled.

"What are you doing?"

"I think I mighta got a bit carried away," he replied.

"How many are there?" you inquired.

"Um...like five?"

Your chest shook with laughter as Harry sat up. "Sorry, babe."

"I'm sure it's fine," you commented.

Harry excused himself to the restroom while you sat up and got dressed. When you stood, you walked over to a nearby mirror to inspect Harry's work. Five might have been an exaggeration, but he'd definitely left his mark on you. One particular love bite almost covered the entire left side of your neck.

"Jesus," you muttered, covering it with your hand.

"Told you," you heard Harry say behind you.

You turned to face him with a shrug. "Well you definitely got your point across."

"Are you mad?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," you shook your head, walking around him toward the bathroom.

"You sure?"

You waved your hand above your head, not bothering to turn around. "It's fine."

Shutting the door behind you, you inspected your neck and shoulders better in the bathroom mirror. You weren't exactly sure why, but the sight unnerved you. Harry wasn't known to be the jealous type. So maybe he had just been playing. Or maybe it was just the adrenaline and the height of passion that made him so animalistic. Even during the sex, you hadn't thought anything was out of the ordinary. But thinking about it now, and looking at the evidence, it sure seemed like Harry had been trying to prove something.

Was he really upset about you talking to Dylan? Had he truly had a problem with the way he looked at you? You honestly hadn't noticed anything, other than the fact that he was cute. But it wasn't like he'd been flirting, and neither had you.

What had suddenly made Harry want to be so possessive and claim his territory?

Opening the bathroom door, you stepped back into the dressing room. Harry sat on the sofa, but you barely looked at him. Instead you made your way to the exit.

"Where are you going?" you heard him ask.

"Gonna try to find a scarf or something," you replied.

"So ya are mad," remarked Harry.

"I didn't say I was mad. Did I say that?" you jerked around, your hands on your hips.

"Your tone says you're mad."

"So I have a tone now?"

Harry groaned, running a hand down his face. "Babe, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

You sighed loudly, dropping your arms. "I said it's fine, Harry. I'm not mad. It's just kind of embarrassing is all."

Harry glared at you with a set jaw. Grabbing the doorknob, you swung the heavy door open.

"I gotta go find something. I'll be back," you announced.

You made your way outside to the tour buses, stepping onto the one you'd arrived on, quickly finding your suitcase. You hadn't remembered packing any scarves, and coming up empty handed confirmed it. The next best thing was your favorite hoodie, a pink one from Victoria's Secret which didn't match your outfit, but it would have to do. Slipping it on and zipping it up, you pulled your hair over your neck and shoulders, trying your best to cover what the hoodie didn't.

Okay, so you were mad. Maybe mad wasn't the right word. Just...irritated. Perturbed. But you knew it was partially your own fault. You'd certainly had a part in Harry's assault on your skin, hell you'd even egged him on, asking where he was planning on marking you. But now you felt weird about it...almost dirty.

But what bothered you the most was that he'd done it after seeing you talking to another guy. A guy whom you paid no mind to. You thought Dylan was cute, but that was as far as it went. And Harry had never been the jealous type.

Stepping off the bus, you returned to the venue where the activity had picked up and the hallway was more crowded than before. Harry's dressing room was now empty, and for a moment you considered just sitting alone for a while until you heard your name called.

"Hey, Dylan," you said softly when you saw him coming towards you.

"Hey, um, sorry about earlier," he muttered.

"What for?"

"You know...um...I didn't know that you were...with Harry."

"Oh," you looked down at your hands. "It's okay."

"I guess maybe I should keep track of who's with whom," he grinned sheepishly.

You gazed back up at him, shaking your head. "You can't be expected to know. Besides, it's not like you were flirting with me or anything. I was just helping you with the drums."

Dylan chuckled, that same strand of blonde falling over his eye again. "Yeah, sure," he nodded. Then leaning in closer, he whispered, "Maybe I kinda was."

Biting your lip, you felt yourself blush. You weren't quite sure how to respond to that. Since being with Harry, guys hadn't been flirting with you. Or if they had, you sure as hell hadn't noticed.

"Um...okay," you muttered, absentmindedly combing your hair behind your ear. That's when you noticed Dylan's eyes widen.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, stepping back.

"What?" you asked a millisecond before you realized. He'd seen the marks.

"Guess he wasn't kiddin'," said Dylan, pointing at your neck.

Ashamed, you tilted your head and pulled your hair back over to hide Harry's love bites.

"He told me you were his," Dylan added, "But I guess he wants everyone to be aware."

You furrowed your brows. "Wait, you talked to him?"

Dylan shrugged. "If you could call it that. I didn't get much say in the matter. He just came up to me a minute ago and said, 'just so you know...Y/N is mine.' And he walked off. I didn't really take it as a threat then but..."

Your shoulders fell and your mouth went dry.

"Guess he's claimed his territory," Dylan finished before walking off, leaving you standing dumbfounded in the hallway.

"Hey, doll," greeted Lou when you entered the room designated for hair and makeup. Liam had just left the room with a short wave of his hand, and you were grateful to find it empty now except for her.

"Hi," you barely mumbled as you sunk into a chair.

"Something wrong?" she inquired as she returned a makeup brush to its caddy.

With a long sigh, you pushed your hair back to reveal the hickeys on your neck and shoulder.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Lou.

You groaned. "Help."

"Were you snogging all day? What-"

"Never mind," you got up to leave, but Lou called you back.

"I'm sorry, love, c'mere. I think I have something to cover it."

You sat back in the chair and Lou got to work putting makeup on your neck, at least the areas that were most exposed. You focused on the various cosmetics on the counter so you wouldn't have to look at her face, knowing it was probably full of shame. You appreciated her silence, however, until she finally said you were good to go.

"Thanks," you muttered as you stood, still pulling your hoodie tight around you just in case.

"Y/N," you heard Lou call as you reached the door. You turned to look at her. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Alright," she sighed. "Just know that I'm here if you ever need to chat. And anything you say never leaves this room, you hear?"

You smiled softly at her. "Thanks, Lou."

You'd just rounded the corner when a tall frame nearly bumped into you.

"Hey! Was looking for you," said Harry. "Did you find something?"

"Um...yeah," you stammered, licking your lips, grabbing the zipper pull of your hoodie and moving it up and down. "Lou helped me out with some makeup."

"Oh, right," he nodded. "Good."

"Harry, we need to talk," you gazed up at him.

He furrowed his brows, looking past you. "Show's about to start, babe."

"What did you say to Dylan?" you asked, ignoring his words.

Harry's eyes darted everywhere but at your own which told you all you needed to know. But you still wanted to hear it from his lips.

"Harry..."

"I just told him you were mine."

"Did you threaten him?"

Harry finally looked at your face, shaking his head. "No, not at all. I just wanted to make sure he knew you were taken."

"Harry, he wasn't even doing anything," you scoffed. "We were just talking. For like five minutes!"

"I've seen the way he looks at you," declared Harry in an accusing tone.

You rolled your eyes. "How does he look at me?"

"Like how I look at you!" he exclaimed.

You threw up your hands. "So fucking what?"

"I don't like it," Harry's voice dropped so low you barely heard his reply.

"Harry, what the hell is going on? You've never acted jealous before."

Harry stood up straight, his chest puffing out as he crossed his arms. "Do I have a reason to be jealous?"

Your mouth opened to retort, but you stopped. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Harry never acted like this. Never.

"You're unbelievable," you shook your head and turned to walk away. "We'll talk about this later."

"Hey, you're the one who said we needed to talk now," you felt his hand on your arm. You shook it off.

"We're not talking about this now!" you yelled through clenched teeth. You held your hands up in front of you. "I need to calm down, and you have a show to do."

"Y/N," said Harry, his tone softer now.

"Go," you pointed to the backstage area. "Your fans are waiting."

You felt the bile rise in your throat as tears threatened to release from your eyes. Turning once again, you zig zagged through the crowd whom no doubt had heard at least some of your squabble.

"Hey, doll," Lou stopped you. "You coming to sit with me?"

"Not yet," you blinked. "I need to be alone for a minute."

Without another word, Lou merely nodded, patting your arm before making her way to the family seats. You walked to Harry's dressing room, immediately locking the door behind you and lying on the sofa, finally allowing the tears to fall.

You didn't understand it. You tried your best to recall the evening's events that had let up to this. Just an hour ago you were on this same sofa as Harry fucked you, sucking on your neck and telling you how you were his. You'd liked it, his possessiveness as he claimed what was his. But the marks had left you feeling uneasy, and then to find out he actually did have a problem with Dylan...it made you wanna throw up. The look in his eyes when he asked if he had a reason to be jealous sent you over the edge. You were hurt and angry at the same time. This...this was not the Harry you knew. This was someone else.

Despite the noise on the other side of the door, you somehow managed to cry yourself to sleep. When you woke up, you sat up, realizing the concert still had half an hour left. Wiping your eyes, you used the restroom and emerged from the dressing room. You were halfway down the hall when you spotted Dylan. With an uneasy smile, you walked up to him.

"Hi," you greeted.

"I don't think you're supposed to be talking to me," he proclaimed.

You rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest. "What the fuck ever." Another tear escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. As you swiped it away with the back of your hand, Dylan stepped closer to you.

"Hey," he said softly. "I was just joking."

"I know," you sniffed.

"You okay?"

"No," you replied quickly, looking up at him. "No, I'm definitely not okay."

"You wanna go somewhere and talk?"

The sounds of cheering fans and the boys singing "Story of My Life" seemed miles away.

"Yeah," you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. "But can we talk about something else? Anything else?"

Dylan grinned. "You bet. C'mon."

You sat alone on the bus, waiting for Harry. You'd decided to wait for him there instead of his dressing room. You knew he was more than likely going to be mad, or at least a little confused as to why you hadn't gone to watch the show. So, you figured you'd give him some time to cool down, take a shower and get dressed before meeting you on the bus.

After talking to Dylan, you felt a little better. He was really nice and funny and took your mind off of everything. You hoped that you could talk to Harry and assure him that you were his and he had no cause to be jealous. But when he stepped onto the bus and you caught the look on his face, you knew that had been too much to ask.

"Hey," you whispered.

With a scowl, Harry walked right past you without so much as a nod. You watched him as he headed toward the back of the bus.

"Harry..." you sounded.

Nothing. He was ignoring you. You had to admit that hurt even worse.

"Harry, talk to me please," you called.

"Oh, so now you wanna talk?" he jerked around, a horrible mean look on his face.

"Yes."

His jaw set, he closed the space between you swiftly. "Why didn't you come to watch the show?"

"Because I was upset," you replied. "I didn't feel like it."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Didn't feel like it. What were you doing?"

Stepping back, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your hoodie. "Nothing. I went to sleep in your dressing room."

Harry nodded slowly, an accusing look in his eyes. "Right."

Almost feeling frightened, you glared at him. "Harry, what the fuck is going on?"

"Why don't you tell me? One minute you're moaning my name, begging me to touch you, and the next you're embarrassed by me."

"How dare you turn this around on me! I'm not the jealous one here!" you yelled.

"I'm not bloody jealous, Y/N! You think I'm jealous of that twat?"

"Why else did you make such a point of leaving so many hickeys on me?"

"I told you got carried away!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn't mean to."

"Did you mean to go up to Dylan afterwards and threaten him?" you asked.

"I-" Harry glared at you. "Did he tell you that?"

"No," you looked down at your hands. "He just said you came up to him and told him I'm yours, and-"

"So you talked to him." It was a statement, not a question. A statement and an accusation.

"Harry, I think I can talk to whomever I choose. And you're being a little ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Harry raised his brows.

"Yeah. And frankly, a bit scary if I'm being honest. I don't know what's gotten into you."

"Fuck!" Harry turned his back on you, his fists at his sides as he walked to the back of the bus.

Trying to keep your calm, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Just then Niall stepped onto the bus behind you.

"Um...everythin' okay?" he inquired.

"Yeah," you bit your lip, stepping back to allow him to pass.

"Ya sure?"

About to nod, Harry turned around an answered for you. "Apparently showing your girlfriend how sexy you think she is and how proud you are to be fucking her pussy isn't allowed."

Your bottom lip trembling, you stared at Harry for a moment. "Fuck you."

"Whoa," Niall muttered as you stomped off the bus.

You could hear Harry calling after you as you ran toward the venue, but you didn't bother to turn around. Liam was just exiting the back door and Louis was halfway towards the bus, both of them stopping in their tracks to watch the scene unfold.

"Y/N!" Harry shouted. "Wait!"

"Leave me alone!" you screamed as you neared the door. "I wish we never met!"

You didn't look back as you continued to run through the hall. You stopped only when you saw Dylan emerge from behind the stage, drum pieces in his hands. Your chest heaving, you swallowed hard. Your eyes met, but you remained silent. Instead you turned toward the makeup room, finding Lou packing the rest of her products.

"Jesus, what's wrong, doll?" she asked when she saw your wild eyes.

Your knees buckling, you broke down right there. Lou reached her arms out to embrace you, allowing you to cry on her shoulder. You stayed in that position for a long time, your body shaking as you cried over and over. Lou rubbed your back, told you to let it out, and that everything was gonna be okay.

"Baby..." you suddenly heard behind you.

"Go away," you mumbled in Lou's shirt.

"Baby, I didn't mean it," said Harry. "God, you know how I feel about you."

Still keeping your back to him, you lifted your head to look at Lou. She had a kind expression on her face, silently urging you to listen to him.

"Don't you?" Harry sounded. You could tell he was closer. "Please say you do. Baby, I'm crazy about you."

Shutting your eyes, you scoffed. "Crazy about sums it up."

"I know. I deserve that."

You wiped your eyes as Lou released you from her grasp and turned you around. Harry had a somber look in his eyes, his body slack from defeat.

"I can't excuse the way I've acted," he said softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've never felt like this before."

"Like what?" you asked.

"Jealous," Harry shrugged. Then he let out a slight chuckle. "Fuck me, I'm jealous. And I don't know why."

"I don't know why either, Harry. There's absolutely no reason to be jealous. I barely know that guy. And until tonight he didn't even know I wasn't part of the crew let alone your girlfriend."

Harry hung his head. "I realize that. I honestly don't know what got into me. At first I-"

Harry lifted his head then, and you heard Lou clear her throat behind you. "Let me just get this," she said, grabbing her makeup caddies. Once she left the room, Harry turned back to you.

"At first I thought it was just kinda hot, you know me claiming my territory, showing that kid - and everyone else - you belong to me. But once I was inside you...it was like something happened, some switch went off and I couldn't stop. And you were loving it too, begging me. Like I said...I got carried away. Then I could tell you were embarrassed by the marks and I'll admit, it made me mad. I didn't want you to be embarrassed. I wanted you to be proud and flaunt it in front of his face. Like 'fuck yeah, my man fucks me good'."

"Harry..." you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I know, it sounds stupid now. But that's what was in my head then."

Licking your lips, you looked down at the floor and then back up at him. "You scared me."

"When?"

"On the bus. I've never seen you like that. I've never seen you like...any of this," you shook your head. "It's frightening, and I don't like it."

"I know, love," Harry reached for your hands. "I don't like it either. But I swear, I didn't mean what I said."

"I know," you replied softly.

"I'm hoping you didn't mean what you said either. That you wish we never met."

You sighed. "Of course I didn't, Harry. I just..."

"You just what?"

"I just..." you released your hands from his and combed a hand through your hair. "I think maybe we should cool it for a little while."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna go on home earlier than I planned. I'll ask Lou if I can stay with her til tomorrow. I'm sure there's a flight I can take."

"Baby..." Harry tried to reach for you again.

You bit your lip and held up your hand. "Please, Harry. I think...I think it's best. For right now. I'll come back later. If you still want me."

"Of course I want you, Y/N. I want you now! With me!"

Covering his mouth with your finger, you silenced him. Then dropping your hand, you placed a soft kiss on his lips. "It's gonna be okay," you murmured.

"Not without you," he pouted.

You mustered up your best smile as you dragged the backs of your fingers down his cheek, then squeezed his arm. "Goodnight."

Turning on your heels, you headed back down the hall to the exit doors. You were halfway there when Harry called your name once again. Stopping, your turned around to see him standing in the middle of the hall.

"I love you," he declared.

You sucked in your lips as your insides trembled. He'd never said it before.

"I love you, too," you echoed before blowing him a kiss and walking out of the venue.

Sorry about that sad ending. I don't really remember why I decided to end it that way lol. I guess I felt more realistic with all the angst than to give it a happy ending. Also, the "I wish we never met" line was a prompt I'd received so I threw it into this story. It's pretty harsh, I know. Hope you enjoyed anyway.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

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anonsturniolo · 25 days

Text

Handcuffed to love ✧₊⁺

policeofficer/probationofficer!matt x criminal!reader

Part 2 of ???

Part 1- HERE

warnings: mentions of drugs. mature themes follow, read at your own risk.

“Where have you been?” My roommate demanded the second I cracked open the door to our shared apartment. I let out a loud sigh, dropping my keys in the dish by the front door.

I rounded the couch before throwing myself into it, getting comfortable, “I got caught last night bro.” I whined, rolling onto my back and throwing my arms over my face.

“What the hell happened.” I begin to retell the story of last night into this morning, making sure to leave out the fact I had basically fallen in love with the cop that arrested me. Jade sits beside me in disbelief.

“So your PO is coming tomorrow morning?” She asks, making me nod. “If you need anything, I’ll be at Jacksons place.” She announces, getting up and going to her room. I wasn’t even surprised, she mostly stayed at her boyfriend's place already.

Once she left, I decided to take a shower. I probably should’ve done that when I got home but I just wanted to lay down and rot for a bit. The bed I had to sleep in last night was pretty comparable to a slab of concrete. Once I finished my skincare and changed into my blue and black flannel, a simple black tank top, I was out like a light when my head hit the pillow.

I was startled awake, feeling like I was being watched. I quickly sit up in bed and flick on the lamp on my nightstand. A quiet scream leaves my mouth once I look to my doorway, to see Matt Sturniolo leaning against the doorframe with an unimpressed expression on his face.

“What the fuck?!” I spit out, getting out of bed.

Matt raises his hands, as if it would calm me down in the slightest, “You didn’t answer the door okay? Had to make sure you were here, or alive at the very least.” He replies, turning sideways as I barrel past him. I make my way to the front door to see the damage, but I’m pleasantly surprised to see none.

“Your landlord let me in.” He comments from behind me. I spin on my heel, a new fire lighting within me.

“Why the hell did he let you in?” I ask him, crossing my arms across my chest. I took a second to take him in, as he wasn’t wearing his uniform. He had a cream sweater on, light blue loose fitting jeans, tan tims on his feet, and a red hat on his head. He looked nothing like a cop.

He pulled his badge out of his pocket, “Just had to show him this sweetheart.” He grinned at me, before turning around and walking into my kitchen. I followed him with a huff, watching as he opened every cabinet, looking for a few seconds, before moving on to the next one.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask him once he opens the dishwasher.

“No.” He immediately replies. I throw my hands up in the air and leave the kitchen. If he wants to go the extra mile, so be it. I’m not gonna follow him around like I have something to hide anyway.

“You’re 21 aren’t you?” He asks me, walking into the living room.

I raise an eyebrow at him, “You’re telling me you don’t know how old I am?” I ask, tilting my head in a condescending manner.

“Drop the attitude.” He glares at me, before entering my bedroom. I can hear him shuffle a few things around, before he walks out with a cocky smirk on his face. He sits down across from me on my loveseat.

I can’t hold it in anymore, “The fuck is that smirk about?” I ask him, knowing damn well I didn’t have anything that could even slightly incriminate myself.

“I found something interesting in your room s’all.” He replies, his smirk growing, “It’s pink, has a couple different settings-”

“Enough!” I cut him off, letting my head fall into my hands. Of course he found my vibrator of all things. I could feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, my head snapping up once he began to chuckle.

“No boyfriend I take it?” He questions, leaning back against my loveseat, and I can’t help but notice how appealing his lap looks at the moment. A perfect place for me to sit.

I shake my head, ridding myself of my dirty thoughts, “No boyfriend.” I confirm, not missing the way his face lit up. We go over a few more boring details before he rises from his seat, heading for the front door.

“That’s it?” I ask him, watching as he pauses by the front door. He turns to face me with an unreadable expression.

He takes a few strides to look down at me, that same cocky smirk on his face, “What, did you expect me to bend you over the kitchen table and have my way with you?” He questions me darkly, his eyes flashing towards my lips for a brief second.

My breath hitches and he, of course, takes notice. He leans down slightly to the point where I can feel his breath fan across my face, “You’ll be hearing from me, darlin’.” Matt murmurs to me before he gives me one last look, and then he’s gone.

I let out a huff once he’s gone, and can’t help but let my mind drift as I walk back into my bedroom. All of my dresser drawers are closed and my bed appears to be untouched. I pull back the covers to lay back down, but I’m shocked as I see my pink vibrator resting in the center of my bed, a note attached to it.

Instantly I rip it off my bed, my heart pounding. Matt had grabbed one of my sticky notes from my desk and stuck it on the side with the settings. I unfold the note and my jaw nearly touches the floor.

Think about me when you use this, sweetheart

I bite my lip at the suggestiveness, how the hell did he find out I was even attracted to him? I’m usually really good about keeping a stone face around people that make me nervous, but maybe jail scared that right out of me.

I throw all caution to the wind and lay down, raising my hips to pull my shorts and underwear down in one go. I eye the vibrator, clicking the small power button and familiarizing myself with the consistent buzz. My eyes flutter shut as I let the small wand travel down my body, my hips jolting as it finally connects to my clit.

“Taking it so well f’me.” Matt groans into my ear, his dick fucking into me at a ravenous pace. His hands grip my hips so tightly I’ll be left with bruises, and it sends a surge of pleasure through my body. My hands claw into his back once he starts to thrust upwards, the tip of his dick hitting my sweet spot over and over.

“Matt,” I choke out between moans, making him lift his head from my neck where he had been leaving harsh kisses, “So close.” I whine once our eyes meet, his eyes darkening once he sees my fucked out expression.

He leans back, thrusting even harder while letting his eyes travel down to where we were connected, “Holy shit.” He groans, lifting a hand to press down on my lower stomach, “You feel me baby? How deep I’m fucking you.” He moans, pressing his thumb to my clit and rubbing furiously.

My mouth drops in a silent scream as I finally cum, my pussy convulsing around his dick as he continues to fuck me. My broken moans between thrusts sends Matt over the edge, pumping me full of his cum, fucking me softly as if to ensure not a drop is wasted.

“Good girl.” He quietly praises me, before softly pulling out and flopping onto the bed next to me, tugging me into his warm embrace. Matt places a kiss on my forehead before I’m suddenly shaken from my delusions by my phone ringing.

I shakily pick up my phone, seeing a phone number I don’t recognize, “Hello?” My voice slightly wobbles as I speak, making me look down to my bed. I had fucking squirted while imagining Matt fucking me, my cheeks flush as I realize how crazy I am for doing all that.

“You good?” I hear from the other side of the phone, and my heart falls to my stomach.

“Matt?” I ask, waiting for him to confirm my worst fear.

“Officer Sturniolo to you, Y/N.” He teases me, making me instantly put my head in my hand that wasn’t holding the phone, “Just wanted you to have my number.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief, “Okay.”

He lets out a chuckle, “I’m guessing you just had some fun?” He questions, ignoring my quiet gasp, “Bet you thought of me, huh?”

“Matt, this is crazy.” I finally whisper, not wanting to confirm I just came to the thought of him.

“I’ll talk to you soon, sweetheart.” I can practically hear the grin in his voice as he hangs up. I do not like the power this man has over me right now.

I’m so cooked.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo

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soapsilly · 10 months

Text

Redemption - Roronoa Zoro Imagine

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Spoilers for One Piece (?)

A/N: This is Part 2 for Betrayal, another Zoro imagine I wrote, so if you haven't read that I'd recommend you do that first.

Summary: After (Y/N) confessed to the Straw Hat Pirates that during their two year separation, she betrayed her boyfriend Zoro and had a child back on the island she was stranded on, she had to leave the group. But once her new home was under attack she had no other choice but to once again hope for the crew's help. Will they forgive her?

Part 3

Requests are closed

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Fire... smoke... screams...

She could see the clouds of smoke from miles away. Once she set foot on the island the first things that greeted her weren't the familiar smell of the autumn leaves or the sound of the market place but rather the smell of the burnt down huts and the pleas of the townspeople. Ever since Whitebeard's death two years ago pirates from all over the world set sail in search of the One Piece. It was exactly like after Gol D. Roger's execution all over again. But her little island? This wasn't where the One Piece was hidden. What these pirates wanted was merely to destroy, to pillage and to artificially drive up their bounty...

"We would never do that", the young woman thought to herself, "all our bounties were racked up for far better reasons. Luffy would never allow this" (Y/N) was well aware, that she herself was part of a notorious pirate crew - or rather she had been part of one until recently...

The realization hurt but she didn't have time to keep thinking about her misery. All that mattered right now was the little boy for whom she had given up everything. As fast as her feet would carry her she ran towards the edge of the forrest where the little cabin that she called her home stood.

She breathed a sigh of relief once she arrived and saw that the destruction of the village had not yet reached that part of the island. But she didn't plan to just sit by and wait for that to happen. The people on the island she called her home weren't fighters. If they were lucky there were a few handymen that knew how to handle tools and heavy machinery but that was about it. She knew that she could never take on those pirates on her own - even if she improved her strenght greatly in the span of those last two years. But she knew who could...

************************************************************************

"Are you sure you're okay?", she whispered, not wanting to get caught by the other Straw Hats.

"Pffft.. Never felt better", the swordsman dismissed her worries with a movement of his hand and continued undressing the woman that was lying underneath him. Calloused hands roaming her body, trying to take in as much of her as he could.

"But - But you should rest...", it became increasingly harder to string together coherrent sentences with the way Zoro was kissing down her chest.

"If you insist", with a swift movement he flipped them around and in an instant the witch was now on top her green-haired boyfriend, straddling him firmly.

She started laughing, "You know, that's not what I meant"

Not many people knew Zoro the way (Y/N) knew him. The other Straw Hats would probably describe him as a 'matter of fact' - guy. His playful side wasn't something he kept hidden - not at all. It's just that the stupid jokes were only funny when they left her lips.

"Hey, Zoro. Dinner's ready", Sanji's words pulled the swordsman out of his thoughts. Every since (Y/N)'s confession nobody on the ship acted normal around him anymore - well nobody except Luffy and Robin. Luffy was never the most delicate, which Zoro was grateful for and Robin probably knew that he just wanted to move on. Nami however didn't leave him alone, offered to speak, to be a shoulder to cry on. He appreciated her good intentions but he just wanted to repress the feelings, exercise and drink his pain away. But the thing that annoyed him the most was that shitty cook being so nauseatingly nice to him. Nami told Sanji that she would raise him hell if he even dared to think to start a fight with Zoro. But what she had achieved, was that the only little thing that the swordsman had left of his (Y/N) was now gone too. He remembered how amusing she found the fights he and curly-brows had - so much so that Zoro tried to initiate fights with the cook. But Sanji never took the bait no matter how hard he had to pull himself together. If Nami-swan wanted something from him, he would not disappoint.

************************************************************************

There she was, it was barely a week and a half since (Y/N) left the Thousand Sunny back on Sabaody but yet it felt like a lifetime. The witch took a few deep breaths before slowly making her way over to the ship. She was grateful that Robin told her that the crew would have to make a stop for supplies an island over before heading to Fish-Man Island. On her way over there, she had hoped that she didn't miss them, that they'd still be there and all the hoping seemed to have payed off. But the hardest challenge - convincing her former friends to help her after everything she put them trough - still lay ahead of her.

Much to her dismay the whole group was not only on the ship when she arrived, they were also in the middle of dinner.

"(Y/N), you came back!", Luffy's voice broke the silence. The girl realized that he genuinely sounded happy to see her. She wasn't quite sure if she felt happy that there was at least one person left on this ship that didn't hate her or sad because she had to tell him yet again, that she still wasn't coming back.

But before she (Y/N) could even attempt to say anything, Nami spoke up, "No, Luffy. She's not. What are you doing here?"

Her voice was cold - so much in fact, that (Y/N) needed two attempts to explain the reason for why she was there. Once she finally ended her plea for help there were a solid few seconds where nobody said a word. (Y/N) had mostly spoken to Luffy as the captain of the ship but she knew that it was really the navigator that she would have to convince to help her. She kept her eyes firmly trained on the Straw Hat anticipating his decision. She, of course, noticed Zoro's presence in the room - how could she not? - but right now all that mattered was that the crew agreed to help.

"Please, I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice...", (Y/N) added quietly after a few more seconds of silence.

"Of course, I'm coming to save you, (Y/N)-chan~", Sanji was the first one to speak up in his sing song voice with hearts in his eyes. For him it wasn't even a question at all. All he saw was a damsel in distress and he'd be the knight in shining armour to come and save the day. He could already picture himself as the hero of the battle and all the ladies clinging on to him to show their gratitude. It was Usopp that had to break the flirtatious cook out of his ramble with a slap on the back of his head.

"What are we even debating about? Of course, we're helping, guys! She's one of us", Chopper agreed. The ship's doctor was always a loyal soul. Chopper and (Y/N) both were outsiders before they met the Straw Hats so she knew how important his nakama were to him.

"No, Chopper. That's exactly the case! She's not. Not anymore", Nami objected, "she should've thought about that before betraying the whole crew. We can't always drop everything just because a former acquaintance happens to have a problem"

Nami liked to say that she was only upset for Zoro - and she really was. She knew that the mosshead was utterly in love with the other woman. She could tell from the way he would loosen up around her, she could tell by the way he would look after her to make sure nothing and nobody would ever upset or hurt her, she could tell by the way he was slightly - only slightly - less annoying when he was around her but the truth was also that Nami was hurt for herself too. (Y/N) was her friend, the first girl that joined the group before Robin finally made them a trio. They had talked about their plans and then (Y/N) just chose the domestic life over everything they had dreamed of?

"And what will you do the next time you'll be in trouble? We won't always be around to save the day", the red-head now spoke directly to (Y/N).

"I promise, I won't ever bother you again, but you haven't seen what I've seen. I'm not asking for myself..."

Of course, she wasn't asking for selfish reasons. Zoro knew that. (Y/N) always chastised him for being so stubborn. But the swordsman knew that she was honestly none the better. If he ever told her that, she'd never admit it but it was the truth. And so he also knew that (Y/N) was far to proud to come and ask them for help so soon after leaving the crew - well, except if she had no other choice. But it didn't really matter anyways, if she was in danger or even just in any type of discomfort, he'd always come and save her.

Zoro had heard enough, "We're helping"

It was the first time that (Y/N) looked at him since she entered the ship. She looked like a scared deer with how wide her eyes were. It was clear to him that she didn't expect him to stand up for her at all. Did she really think that lowly of him? Why did that thought sting? If Nami was anything to go by, he should hate her and helping her should be the last thing on his mind but he just couldn't help his feelings. This time it was Zoro that couldn't stand the tension, so he tore his eyes away from his ex-lover.

"Zoro, are you-", Nami seemed unsure.

"Either we all go or I'll go alone, I'm done talking about this", and with those words the swordsman stood up from the table and left the room. When he passed (Y/N) on the way out, he had to side-step as to not bump into her but just that act alone was the closest he's been to her in a long time.

"Guess, it's settled then", Luffy laughed, "(Y/N) lead the way!"

************************************************************************

Zoro and (Y/N) were lying on the deck of the Sunny at the moment talking about anything and eveything. Usually the mosshead would have a afternoon nap but instead (Y/N) and him decided spend some time together soaking up the last sunrays of the day.

"Is there anything else you want out of life?", (Y/N) asked her boyfriend, who had his head comfortable rested on her lap.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... other than becoming the world's greatest swordsman?"

"No, why would I?"

"Well, you made that promise to a friend when you were a child. You're a man now. Isn't there anyhting else that you could wish for? In addition to being the best? I mean what happens once you reach your goal?"

Zoro was quiet for a moment, it was clear to (Y/N) that her lover had truly never ever considered there possibly being more.

"Well, what about you then?", he positioned himself so that he was now looking up at her.

"I guess, I'd like to be married someday", she answered nonchalantly.

"Why?", Zoro's voice dripped with confusion but there was also somehting else... judgement maybe?

"I don't know, I think I just like the thought of having that special bond with a person, you know? Belonging together, having each other's back...", she trailed off towards the end. She could feel her cheeks heat up. Talking about feelings was so much easier when drunk...

"Oi! Everything okay with you?", Zoro sounded amused, "you sound exactly like curly-brows"

"Why? Because I want to belong somewhere?", she was irritated by his reaction.

"Don't be so dramatic", the swordsman rolled his eyes, "you belong to the crew like all of us"

She wiggled her way out from underneath him not wanting him on her anymore.

"Do you really not understand how that's different? I just don't want to be just someone's girlfriend for the rest of my life", she was starting to get frustrated now.

"Just someone's girlfriend? And being someone's wife is better? What kind of goal is that?", (Y/N) could sense that Zoro was not taking her seriously at the moment, which made her even more furious. Unfortunately the witch was an angry-crier, so wasn't long before the tears started to fill her eyes. When he saw her reaction, he added, "Damn, you are so sensitive"

"And you are always so goddamn insensitive! Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall!", (Y/N) knew she shouldn't yell but the way he was talking down to her made her feel so helpless.

"I don´t want to talk to you anyways when you're being so difficult. I should've just taken a nap", he was annoyed by her behavior.

"Fine!", with that she stood up and walked away from her boyfriend but as she was walking inside the Sunny she turned around telling him, "and for your information, the are some things that Sanji actually gets very right, you know..."

She knew that indirectly comparing him to the cook would rub him the wrong way but she really couldn't resist.

"Oi, are you actually trying to start a fight or what?!", Zoro yelled after her, raising his voice for the first time the entire conversation.

Zoro mindlessly sat by the railing sharpening his katanas. Would things be different today had he acted a little more sensitive during their fight? Back then he didn't pay it anymore mind. In fact, he didn't think (Y/N) would've either. They had had far bigger fights - or so he thought - but guess it was more important to her than he anticipated. Maybe he wasn't enough for her... Was she really that unhappy?

"Hey...", Zoro was pulled from his thoughts by (Y/N) herself. It was the first time that she directly spoke to him since her confession on Sabaody, "I just wanted to thank you for speaking up back then. You really saved us"

Us... Zoro felt a sting in his chest. Of course, her new man and their son. Helping her wasn't even a question for him but the thought that she was in that situation to begin with made him angry. What kind of man doesn't protect his family?

"Don't mention it", he grunted, still not looking up from his blades.

"No, I mean it. If it wasn't for you I don't know what I'd do", Zoro couldn't help but notice that the way she was talking to him wasn't as familiar anymore almost like they were strangers. First the crew and now (Y/N) too. All this tiptoeing around made him sick - he wasn't used to being pitied and he didn't like it. One bit. He would almost have preferred it if she had just sad down with him and talked... normally?

As if she had read his mind, she asked him if she could sit with him for a moment. She took the shrug she got in returned as a 'yes' and sat down opposite from him.

"Zoro... I - I really never meant to hurt you", she continued. He wasn't sure if he wanted to have this conversation now but the alternative was her leaving again, so...

"It's my own fault. I should've known better", he answered.

"What? Why would you say that?", the woman opposite of him truly sounded upset with his statement. She was trying to catch his eye but he adjusted himself so that he was now facing the water.

"I wouldn't give you what you wanted. I was too occupied with my goal of becoming the strongest. All the training, the exercising...", he trailed off towards the end. "Logical consequences", he tried to sound unbothered.

The witch furrowed her brows, "No... No, no. Where is that coming from?"

"You told me you wanted to get married someday and I didn't take you seriously"

She remembered the fight but hadn't thought about for ages - especially because - in her mind - it wasn't so big of a deal. But then again, the swordsman also never heard what happened after the fight.

When Sanji entered the dining area the first thing he noticed was a sniffling (Y/N). With the speed of lightning he was kneeling in front of her, tracing soothing cirlces on one of her hands.

"(Y/N)-chan! What happened? Who hurt you?", the cook jumped up from his position on the floor.

"It's nothing, Sanji. Just a little fight", she wiped her tears away and tried to smile up at him.

"Was it that stupid Marimo? I'm going to break his face for making you cry", he was already halfway out of the room before the witch could even react.

"Sanji, no, please don't", she pleaded. Usually she'd be the last person to stop either one of them from starting a fight with the other but this time was different.

When the blond heard how desperate she sounded he stopped in his tracks, instead he turned around and started to prepare some tea for himself and the girl.

Once the tea was served, he sat down with her, so they could talk.

"It's silly...", she tried to dismiss the problem but Sanji wouldn't have it.

"How silly can it be if it makes you cry?", at the mention of her tears she swore there were distinct flames in his irises.

"It's just... Zoro and I were talking about our goals in life and when I told him I'd like to get married someday, he didn't seem to like the idea"

"How could anybody say 'no' to a proposal from you? I would marry you in an instant ~", where the witch had seen flames a moment ago, there were now hearts in his irises.

"Oh yeah? Sanji, no offense but you'd marry any woman that's not on the tree by three", she couldn't help but laugh, "But in fact, I wasn't proposing to him. We were fighting because he's just so... insensitive? You know, sometimes it's like only his thoughts and feelings are what make sense to him and so other thoughts and feelings are irrational and therefore not valid..."

"Stupid.. selfish.. douchebag.. mosshead..", Sanji was talking more to himself than to the girl sitting opposite of him, "why are you even putting up with him? You could easily find a better man that would cherish you and worship the ground you walk on"

The witch was sure the cook was talking about himself but let it slide for the moment.

"I love him", she shrugged, "what you don't understand is, that I'd rather have a thousand fights and never ever get married than to marry somebody else"

In that moment, the cook genuinely could feel how serious the girl was.

" - but don't tell him that. Otherwise, I'll never get him to tie the knot", she quickly added.

"I wouldn't dream of it", the blond confirmed.

"So, and now let's make dinner, yes? I'm starting to get hungry", (Y/N) was nudged Sanji in the side, a bright smile lighting up her face.

To further cheer her up, the cook promised to prepare the witch's favourite meal for dinner and (Y/N) was happy to help and spend some more time with her friend.

(Y/N) was in the midst of stirring one of the many pots, that were cooking on the stove - with Luffy as their captain a single dish would never be enough - when she heard Zoro's voice from outside the kitchen.

"Oi! (Y/N) come quick! There's something I want to show you"

The girl turned to the cook, who by the look of it was busy with adjusting the taste with seasoning so every dish was nothing short of perfect.

"Is it okay if I leave you to it now?", she smiled.

"Are you sure? The stupid marimo didn't even apologize"

"Positive", she shrugged, "I'm not angy anymore and I'm sure he isn't either. Why waste time being pissed at each other when you could also just spend the time that you have together being happy?"

And with that she skipped towards the door leading to the deck where her stubborn, stupid marimo headed boyfriend was already waiting for her. But just before she could leave the kitchen she made an abrupt stop, returned to where she left the cook standing and gave him a kiss on the cheek, which almost made the receiver levitate.

"Thank you, Sanji"

"Zoro, no... There's nothing you could've said or done differently that would've changed anything. I'm... so sorry", she hoped that this would convince him that it really wasn't a 'him-issue' and that he shouldn't give up on love all together, but he remained silence. When she realized that he wouldn't answer her she made a move to get up but just before she could leave Zoro spoke up.

"I don't hate you, you know?", it was the first time during their conversation that he had looked at her - really looked her in the face. She could see that he still loved her. He has always been bad at articulating his emotions but that was okay for her because she could always tell how he felt about her. He showed her. Two years of seperations didn't change that.

She didn't expect him to say anything now - least off all that. Of course, she felt glad to hear it but still she couldn't help but to feel guilty... like she didn't deserve forgiveness for all the pain she caused.

"I wouldn't blame you", she sat back down.

"I could never. Three days are one thing. Two years a whole nother", he shrugged, "Besides, Nami hates you enough for the both of us"

The witch sat there shocked but once she saw Zoro's smirk, she let out a relieved laugh.

"I think Nami hates me enough for the whole crew", she giggled.

The two of them started teasing each ofther and for a moment it felt like before. Before Sabaody, before (Y/N)'s confession, before their separation.

"By the way, I like your dress", the woman told Zoro with a deadpan look. It took a few moments for her words to register in his mind before he started yelling.

"Dress?! Are you blind, woman??"

When she saw how frustrated he was with her she couldn't hold back her giggles.

Their laughs could be heard all over the Sunny, much to the bewilderment of a certain navigator.

"Look at that! How could he be laughing with her like that after everything she put him through?", she turned to Robin.

"They love each other. Feelings don't change from one day to another"

"Well, for her they apparently did...", Nami retorted.

The older woman sent the red-head a knowing smile but chose to stay silent.

************************************************************************

The battle was in full effect and (Y/N) was in awe of how strong everybody has become over these last two years. Even the self-proclaimed coward trio of Usopp, Nami and Chopper did a lot of damage to the enemy crew. A lot of parts of town have been destroyed during the fight but the witch knew that this was the lesser of two evils and the townspeople would work together once everything was over to build it up again.

"They're like vermin!", Nami shouted. She was right. The pirates weren't strong - at least not compared to the Straw Hats - but they were many and they were everywhere.

"Doesn't matter. We're stronger", Ruffy laughed.

During the fight (Y/N) felt like she never left the crew, working together like a well maintained machine. For a moment she forgot about the struggles and that all of this would be only temporary - that they would leave once the threat was over - but then a loud explosion pulled her back to reality. A cloud of black and grey smoke rose up from just outside of town where the forrest began.

"My house!", the young witch shouted, "I need to go- I need- I-"

The others could see the genuine fear in her eyes as she was running towards where the flames were blazing up from afar.

"I'm coming with you", Zoro started to follow her.

The girl stopped in her tracks, "Wait, no you can't come"

"Why? Don't be ridiculous. You'll need help"

"Yes, but not from you", she her voice sounded urgent, "Sanji? Can't you come? Or Robin?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? You're wasting time!", the swordsman was getting angry. Why would she rather want the waiter's help before his? He could keep her safer that any body else on the crew but of course she had to be stubborn again.

"Both of you are wasting time. I'm coming", Robin interjected. Zoro tried to object but before he could both of the women already took off.

"What are you hiding, (Y/N)?", the older of the two asked.

"You'll see soon enough"

************************************************************************

Once the fight was over the forrest floor around the hut was littered with pirates. Neither (Y/N) nor Robin believed in taking prisoners. Fortunately, (Y/N)'s little house and garden were unscathed.

"How?", Robin was puzzled.

The younger woman sent her a bright smile, "That's Mim's doing"

"Mim?"

And so (Y/N) told her about her mentor. Mim was an older woman - an old hag to be specific - that took care of (Y/N) when she landed on her island two years ago. She was strict and a little grim but also extremely warm-hearted and as chance would have it, she was known as the island's sorceress. At first (Y/N) believed that it was only hearsay, like it had been in her home village, but she quickly realized that the old lady was an actual witch and better yet - she would teach her.

"I see. So, your mentor protected your home with a spell", Robin concluded as the both of them walked over to the little hut.

As they walked up to the door, an old woman and a little child came up to them. When Robin saw the little boy with the green hair and the outstreched arms, she quickly realized why (Y/N) was so against Zoro accompanying her.

"You need to tell him, (Y/N)"

"I can't, Robin. It wouldn't change a thing"

"You don't know that", she insisted.

But before (Y/N) could give an answer, they heard the voice a certain green-haired swordsman.

"What wouldn't change a thing?"

(Y/N) stiffened up. When Zoro saw the little boy in her arms his eyes immediately grew wide. The whole crew waited in anticipation.

It was the toddler that broke the silence with his babbling, signaling for his mother to be wanting to be let down. Once she set him down the little boy immediately started to wobble his way over to Chooper, where he promptly fell on his behind and happily started to wildy gesture around.

"Is that - ? Why did- ? When-?", Zoro was lost for words and so were the others. It was Nami that spoke up first.

"(Y/N)...", she walked over to the other girl and hugged her tight, "I'm so sorry"

"You didn't know", she assured the navigator, "to be honest? I probably would have reacted the same way". She sent her friend a half-smile.

"Ma-ma?", the toddler demanded his mother's attention, two fists full of Chopper's fur in both of his chubby hands.

"Ah. No, no. Leave the nice Tanuki alone, honey", she walked over to the little boy scooping him up in her arms again, ignoring the ship doctor's protests over the misidentification.

Zoro cleared his throat to get her attention back to him. As much as he enjoyed the moment of reconciliation, he still thought there was some things the two of them had to talk about.

Within seconds the mood switched yet again and all of a sudden everybody was reminded of the reality of the situation they were in.

"Maybe we should give those two a minute or two...", Robin suggested.

"Yeah", (Y/N) answered but didn't take her eyes off of Zoro, "Sanji, why don't you cook something nice for us? The fridge should be stocked...". Her suggestion was met with instant approval from their ever hungry captain.

Sanji just nodded, still not having processed the newly gained information. How could the marimo be a father??

Nami made grabby hands towards the Mini-Zoro in (Y/N)'s arms. Usually she was rather unimpressed with babies. But this was different. This baby belonged to her best friend and... Zoro.

"Come to aunty Nami", (Y/N) didn't hesitate for a moment to hand him over to the red-head. Had it been Luffy or Usopp she'd think twice but she trusted Nami to take care of her baby.

"I'll leave you two to it, so you can talk", the navigator continued, "What's the little man's name by the way?"

"Oh, I decided to name him Sanji", (Y/N) answered seriously.

"Excuse me?!", Zoro was shocked.

"Just joking! I'm sorry", she tried to calm the mosshead down. From behind her, she could see Usopp and Nami snickering behind their hands and Sanji nearly dying of heart palpitations. "It's Sora", she added quietly as the others left her and the swordsman alone.

"Is (Y/N) coming back now?", the witch heard Chopper ask somewhere in the background but she didn't have the mental capacity to think about anything but Zoro at the moment.

"Sora...", he repeated thoughtfully once they were alone, "Does he- does he have my name?"

(Y/N) felt anxious. Would he like that?

"Well...", she started but had to stop because she didn't know what to say, "I mean... yeah?"

"Roronoa Sora...", Zoro didn't know how to properly express his feelings in the moment. Hell - he didn't even know himself. But he knew that he liked the sound of that.

"Why didn't you say anything?", he asked her. It was almost like a plea.

"Would it have changed anything? I didn't want to burden you"

"Burden me?", he was in disbelief, "How could you ever burden me?"

"Don't you understand? I was alone on this island. All alone and I had to make a decision" she was getting emotional - for the first time since her confession. There were no more jokes and funny digs to mask how she really felt.

Zoro felt terrible, he knew how hard it was for her to feel isolated and then to go through something like this without any help? When they first got together he would've never thought that he'd ever grow so attached to the girl but it didn't take long for him to really fall madly and deeply in love with her. Sometimes he'd feel bad that couldn't really express how he truly felt for her but he promised himself he would do anything in his power to protect her. But he couldn't even do that.

"You had your goal... and... and... I never wanted to hold you back", (Y/N) couldn't stop the tears from falling anymore. Being separated from him was the worst feeling in the world but she would give up everything and more for him.

Zoro pulled her into his chest, holding her close and tucking her head underneath his chin. From the way hear hands would immediately grab at his robe, it was noticeable how much she missed his touch.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through all that. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry you felt like you had to lie", he hated that she felt like she had to protect him. The crew - especially Nami - had been so terrible to her, "I love you more than anything..."

She pulled back and looked up at him. Tears still streaming down her face. Even now, he couldn't help but to think how beautiful she was. And for the first time in over two years his lips met hers.

The kiss wasn't hungry or sensual. Zoro could taste the salt from her tears on her lips but it didn't bother him at all.

Once they broke apart she smiled up at him, "I've missed you"

************************************************************************

"Are you sure?", Nami shouted down from the Sunny.

"A pirate ship is no place for a child", (Y/N) answered back.

It's been a week since the fight. The townspeople were already in the process of building up what's been broken and it was time for the Straw Hats to move on. Of course, the offered the witch to join them again but nothing changed for her. She had to think about her son first and foremost - as much as she would miss life on the sea. Most of the crew already boarded the ship. It was only Zoro left on the beach with (Y/N) and their son.

"I guess it's goodbye then, huh?", the witch had a sad smile on her face.

"I promise it's not forever. As soon as Luffy is pirate king I'll come back for you... both of you", the mosshead still wasn't the most secure in his new role as a father but as long as he had (Y/N) he knew that it'd be alright.

(Y/N) went in for what would be the last hug for a long, long time, "Promise me you'll be safe. Who's gonna make you take care of yourself when I'm not there?", she smiled.

The two of them exchanged a few more kisses and 'I love you's before the crew told them it was time to depart. During the last hug, Sora, who was seated in his mothers arm reached, out and grabbed his father's cheek with a happy laugh. Zoro furrowed his brows for a moment but then quickly started grinning.

"And you keep an eye out for your mother, yes?"

The toddler babbled as if to confirm that he understood his father's order.

A loud sob disrupted the family moment. When they turned to the Sunny they saw the whole crew smiling down at them - much to the discomfort of Zoro, who was still not entirely at ease with PDA. It was Franky that the initial sob came from. The cyborg has always been prone to tears but on closer examination it was almost the whole crew that was at least a little teary-eyed. Everyone except Luffy, who had a puzzled look on his face.

"Oi, that baby looks like Zoro..."

That sentenced earned him a hefty slap at the back of the head from nami and a hearty laugh from (Y/N).

"I'm gonna miss you guys so much", she smiled through tears.

"We'll be back before you know it, (Y/N)-chan~", Sanji shouted down to her.

"Oi! Let my girlfriend alone! Nobody's gonna miss you", the swordsman, who had joined the others on the ship by now, yelled at the cook.

(Y/N) stayed on the beach listening to the two of them fight until they were too far away to make out the words anymore. Then she turned to the little mosshead in her arms.

"Guess, it's just us now huh? Roronoa Sora..."

***

Tag List: @ikissnishiki, @multi-writer-personal-blog

#roronoa zoro x reader #one piece imagine #roronoa zoro imagine #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro imagine #one piece x reader #one piece

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kechiwrites · 6 months

Text

mirror image

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 7/8

synopsis: two weeks into your uneasy truce, simon gets introspective.

wc: 811

cw: afab!reader, angst, banter that becomes arguing, hurt and the tiniest bit of comfort, language, trust issues, simon's pov, no gendered language. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: well, we back at it, the second last installment of this verse. i'll still take requests/thots for it of course, but soon we'll get closure for these two. for now, simon's thoughts on their situation.

new to baby blue? start here.

It’s disarming.

And Simon Riley doesn’t like being disarmed. He doesn’t like being caught off guard, off kilter, unstable.

It’s been happening more and more often though.

When you and Tommy look at him in perfect unison, he is struck stupid by your eyes, like you copy and pasted them onto your son. His son. His kid. His perfect, funny kid. Unmuddied by everything bad in the world. His life is pancakes and dinosaurs and that horrible fucking tv show that he’s sure rots his little mind. His life is you. Your smiles, your laugh, your cooking, your hugs. Things Simon cheated himself of when he walked out on you, choked with fear and bleeding misery.

Simon is disarmed, totally fucking helpless, a veritable babe in the woods when you let him hold you. When for the first time, in a long ass time, he gets to watch your lids flutter closed and slip into unconsciousness, in that quick, carefree way he’s always envied.

He barely sleeps, even less so lately.

After all, no sleeping meant no nightmares. No cloying, choking smoke-like fears reaching for the frayed edges of his subconscious. No sleeping meant he couldn’t play on your kindness, your goodness, and guilt you into holding him back when he woke up screaming, sweating, no matter how bad he wanted it.

It’s two weeks later. Two weeks after sleeping together but not sleeping together. After breakfast and an uneasy truce. Two weeks after kissing you and touching you and holding you like you both had all the time in the world.

You’re not in a good mood. And he knows that. But he pushes you anyway, pokes and prods you even as you slam through your kitchen, noisily pulling out a pot and a huge bag of pasta shells.

“Let’s talk.” He approaches, arms crossed, full kit traded in for a skull emblazoned cloth mask, jeans and a threadbare black t-shirt, one he’d found in your bedroom days ago, stashed in the back your drawer, crumpled in a wrinkled ball, like you didn’t want to see it, but you didn’t want to trash it either. He’s been doing that lately, staying over for days and rifling through your shit, finding old relics and artifacts from a time neither of you can let go of. An old mask, a hat, t-shirts.

So many goddamn t-shirts.

“Talk?” you snort derisively, filling the pot with water. He watches you test the water with your fingertips and curse under your breath, mumbling something about shit pipes. When the pot is full, you turn to face him, lips curled, sneering. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of that. Thought you just communicated in grunts.”

“You’re funny. That's new.” He jabs, advancing in the conversation much faster than he should have, comforted in familiar territory, finding solace in what used to be commonplace for you, banter, barbs, teasing. The tense set of your shoulders should’ve warned him off it, should’ve told him you’d take it as well as a bullet in the back. But God help him, he’ll take whatever you give.

“Mm.” Your tone is casual but your answering nod is jerky, too fast, “Yeah, I developed a sense of humour when I realized our relationship had been a joke.” You slam the pot onto a burner, giving him your back.

The air is suddenly devoid of mirth, utterly obliterated where it had been floating between you before. Now the living room and kitchen are a smoking crater, an oil rig on fire, a disaster site.

He’s never been more grateful for his son’s propensity to nap like he’s dead.

Neither of you say anything. Simon is waiting for you to say something, to dress him down, but when you lower your head and sigh, heavy and deep with pain and exhaustion he planted within you, Simon withers. He slinks back to the living room and drops himself onto your couch.

You wait, he’s not sure what for. He used to be so good at preempting your actions, your thoughts, your words, now he handles you like you’re a venomous reptile, looking for exposed, vulnerable flesh to strike, to bite.

You set down the glass you’d been drinking from hard. And he’s surprised you didn’t crack it.

“What do you want, Simon?” Question of the goddamn century, it is. And you’ve asked it of him plenty of times. But he never has an answer, can never really deduce just what the fuck he’s doing here, with you. With Tommy. Playing a game? Playing a role? Punishing you? Himself? All of it could be true, but none of it seems right.

“I want to try.”

All he knows is that before this, four years seemed like a short time, nothing really. But now?

It’s an eternity. Reflected back to him in broken glass, in half full drawers, in his son’s eyes.

In yours.

comments + tags + reblogs are so appreciated

oh simon...what do you want?

series masterlist here

#ghost x black reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x you #ghost x black!reader #simon riley x you #kechiwrites #baby blue fic #baby daddy ghost #ghost x gn reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #cod x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw3 x reader

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rebelliousstories · 4 months

Text

Old Wound

Relationship: Cooper Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Death, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,167

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: She was supposed to be dead. He held her while she died in his arms. How is she here?

“You ever think about what’s gonna happen when we’re dead, cowpoke?” She asked.

It was a cool night, probably winter now if Cooper was remembering right. It had been so long since he felt a proper winter that he was not sure after all these years. He turned his head to the woman that was resting on his chest as they huddled around a fire to keep away the chill.

“You on drugs or somethin’?” Cooper’s serious tone made the woman burst out with laughter. She pushed herself up so that she was level with his face to look into his beautiful ocean blue eyes.

“No but, you’ve survived centuries. I may get a few decades if I’m lucky. I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought about what’ll happen when we die.” Her repeated question did not even make The Ghoul miss a beat.

“We’re gonna become food for someone or somethin’ else. That’s what’s gonna happen.” He stated, trying to get the woman to lay back down.

“I meant the afterlife, baby. Like do you think that there’s the pearly gates, or just nothingness?” She laid back down and let the man run his ungloved hand over her head, and through her hair.

“I hope there’s an afterlife, but if there is anything these last couple centuries have taught me is that God is cruel. So whatever is waiting for us, we take it as it comes.” Howard pressed a kiss in the wake of his hand and felt the woman relax into him. That answer seemed to pacify her as they settled in for the night and went to bed.

If only he could ask her what was waiting for them on the other side of death’s embrace. It had only been a couple weeks and the sting was still fresh, but you know cowpokes. They take it as it comes. Cooper had been traveling alone this entire time with a chip on his shoulder, and saddened eyes.

Walking into Filly, there was a vacancy in his pouch where his chems would be. The thought alone made him want to shoot something. She always got his chems for him because they would give the pretty girl a discount, but the ghoul behind her would get nothing. He had not needed to get his own since she began traveling with him a couple of years ago.

A sign on the door pointed him to where he needed to go. His spurs clinked against the wooden floors as he went inside the little apothecary. There was a bell that he ringed, and soon a man stepped out from behind a curtain.

“Sixty chems.” The Ghoul left no room for small talk, and set the necessary caps on the counter between them. Without a word, the man disappeared and retrieved the items for the mutant. Each man pocketed their own items and said nothing as they turned to go back to what they were doing before.

As soon as Cooper stepped out, gasps and shouts were heard through the downtown area. At first he thought it was him; ghouls were not exactly welcomed in many parts, especially him. But it was not. A woman in distressed clothing was walking around and looking for someone or something with desperation in her eyes. Looking at her from underneath the lip of his hat, The Ghoul thought that her clothing was remarkably familiar.

“Get lost, Ghoul. You ain’t welcome round here.” One of the shopkeepers shouted at the woman, who was clearly very lost. She said nothing as she kept looking around and did not even respond to the man. However she did respond when someone threw something at her. Trying to protect herself, she reached for something on her hip, only for that object to not be there. It was not until she turned around the Cooper felt his breath catch and his heart stop.

It was her. His little spitfire girl was right in front of him. There was no way though. She had bled out in his arms. She died in his arms. He felt the last breath leave her body, and her pulse stop. And yet, here she was. Standing in front of him as if nothing had happened. The sound of a gun cocking caught his attention, as well as the end of a barrel trained on the woman. In an instant, Howard shot the assailant first before he had time to harm the woman. She did not flinch, but rather calmly looked to where he stood and gasped out his name in a hushed whisper.

Cooper marched right up to her, and observed. Not a hair was different from the last time he had seen her. He did not even allow for another moment to pass as he grabbed her arm and began to drag her from the market. Once they were in a quiet part, he let go and could not hold his tongue.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you wearin’ her clothes?” Cooper demanded, holding his gun out to point at the woman.

“What- what are you talking about. Coop, it’s me. This isn’t funny.” She pleaded, feeling afraid as this was the first time in years that she had been at the end of his gun.

“Prove it,” he breathed, “what did you tell me you hoped was waiting for us in death?”

“I never told you.” She whispered. “But you told me that no matter what, we cowpokes take it as it comes, so it didn’t matter. Please Coop. Just put the gun down.”

With a deep breath in and out, he did as she asked. Cooper rushed forward and took in another deep breath, this time with the scent of her. But there was something off about her scent. It smelt much more… ghoulish. Pulling away, he saw her same eyes staring back at him. Those same eyes that he begged to open just one more time a few weeks ago.

“How?” Cooper asked, running his hands everywhere he could.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I am, or what happened that I came back. All I know is that one minute I’m in your arms, and the next I’m picking myself up off the ground and all alone.” She repeated the process of running her hands everywhere she could as her lover was doing to her.

“Hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but I think you’re a little like me. Who the hell knows with all the radiation bullshit.” He whispered, chuckling lightly at the face she pulled when he proposed his theory.

“I guess there are worse things to be. I’m just glad I found you again.” Cooper was brought into a tight embrace, as she buried her face into his chest and breathed in his scent.

“Me too, darlin’. Me too.” He whispered back, pressing kisses to her hair as he was glad to just hold her in his arms again.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x oc

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