#fallout 4 x fem!reader

[yawnderu]

>Commission for the lovely @slava-the-stalker! Thank you so much for supporting me with comms for my surgery. TTwTT 💗💗

John stared deep into the mirror, his visage scrunched up in a mix of discomfort and insecurity upon seeing his own reflection. What used to be a normal human face is nothing like the... thing staring back at him, his own hands coming up to caress the rough, scarred skin. While he's glad the bastard who failed all those ghouls is no longer recognizable, part of him feels a growing pit of anxiety boiling up in his stomach, threatening to explode at any moment now, the sound of your gentle humming coming from the bedroom calming him down even if only for a second. 

With one last look of disdain at his own face, he makes his way out of the bathroom, his chest lightly puffed out in fake confidence, not wanting you to sense the inner turmoil in his head. The pure devotion in your eyes makes him hesitate, yet he pushes himself to be closer, lying down next to your body, one of his cold hands running up and down the crevice of your waist. 

“Took you long enough.” The pure mirth in your eyes makes the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile despite himself, fighting the urge to recoil back the moment your hand meets his cheek, the warmth spreading all over his cold skin, bringing a sense of comfort amidst the chaos in his head. 

“Looking this good ain't easy.” That fake confidence will be his demise one day, he knows it, yet the sweet laugh leaving your lips is enough to push the thought to the back of his mind, his eyes closing at the sensation of your thumb caressing his skin with nothing short of worship. He can feel you inching closer, not doing a damn thing to stop you as your lips crash against his, moving at an almost agonizingly slow pace, your breath hot against his face. 

His hand drifts lower and lower as your kiss becomes more heated, cold fingers curling around your supple ass, squeezing it harshly as he pulls you closer to him, all the blood rushing down to his cock the moment your tongue enters his parted lips, wrapping around him without any trace of disgust. Your free hand comes down to his groin, teasingly tracing the outline of his hardening cock with your index before fully cupping it, feeling the vibrations of a groan leaving his lips against your own. 

You can feel him harden beneath your palm, your fingers curling around the outline of his cock as your warm tongue meets his, battling for a dominance that he instantly surrenders, the feeling of his hands groping your ass harder dragging a moan out of your lips, only breaking away from the kiss to lean your forehead against his. 

“I have been having slightly more impure thoughts than usual.” He confesses, his voice barely a whisper as a hint of hesitation dances in his dark eyes. 

“Maybe it's time we... act on those.” His nervous chuckle doesn't go ignored, only making the tenderness in your eyes grow at the slight display of nervousness written all over his face. You've heard his thoughts about your relationship— about how he thinks you don't want to wake up to his mug every morning, and how he would never wish that on anyone he cared for; yet for you, John Hancock is a work of art. Every single intricate pattern on his skin, the way he carries himself, the strong sense of responsibility and morality towards his cause, and the sheer kindness seeping through his entire soul, clear in his very own actions. 

The only response he gets is a soft peck on the lips, your gentle eyes meeting his, serving as a soothing balm for the insecurities that run deep within. He allows his body to relax despite the way his muscles are threatening to tense at the sensation of your fingers unbuttoning his pants, his hand instinctively reaching out to hold yours the moment your fingers touch his zipper. 

“You don't... have to.” He reassures, not wanting you to feel forced to look at his disfigured, ghoul body. 

“I want to.” Your tone is even and firm, your intentions clear as day, yet he only moves his hand away after seeing the way your pupils dilate when looking up at him. John has been alone for what feels like an eternity, the idea of being intimate with someone he loves being such a foreign and mildly scary concept even for the bravest of men. 

He forces his body to relax, laying down on his back as you undo his zipper, a sharp hiss leaving his thin lips the moment your warm hands pull his hard cock out, blown pupils fully admiring every single detail; the thick, darker veins running over his length, to the dark pink bulbous tip, glistening with precum that seems to leak like a broken faucet. A deep groan leaves his lips as your fingers curl around his thick length, moving up and down at such an agonizingly slow pace that he's close to throwing his pride away and begging. 

His lips part, half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling as his jaw clenches, feeling the mattress sink with the weight of your knees, parting his legs just enough for your body to fit between them. Your tongue darts out, licking a tantalizing stripe over his sensitive tip, running over his thin slit, the taste of salty precum overwhelming your senses, mixing in with your slimy saliva. His hand goes to the back of your head, cold fingers caressing your scalp rather than pushing you closer, his grip tightening momentarily the moment your warm tongue runs up and down the thickest vein on his shaft. 

“Please, love...” He's not even sure why he's pleading, yet surrendering all control to the person he loves the most brings out an exhilarating feeling he never knew was possible without drugs. You obey, slowly pushing his throbbing cock deeper into your mouth, relaxing your throat just to take him deeper without triggering your gag reflex. The tears dotting your eyelashes only make you look even more charming to him, lightly bucking his hips so you can finish taking all of him, your nose against his trimmed pubic hair, the feeling of his soft, heavy balls against your chin only makes it more enticing, sucking in your cheeks as you start to bob your head up and down, taking in the feeling of his cock sliding down your throat. 

His grip tightens on your hair, inhibitions thrown out the window as he stars to guide your movements, his eyes darkening at the way every single inch of his cock disappears into your needy, willing throat, squelching sounds mixing in with his deep groans, his head thrown back, the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down fully on display for your curious eyes. Your hands squeeze his thighs once you're unable to get air anymore and he immediately helps you pull away, gently wiping the trail of saliva going down the corners of your lips, using the chance to cup your cheek and stare down at you with nothing but pure, undying love. 

“I'd like to try something new tonight.” His face tilts to the side slightly, curiosity clear in his expression, resting his heavy body on his elbows as his dark eyes focus on the way you seductively strip of your clothes, layer after layer coming off to reveal the soft, untainted flesh, so unlike his own— so pure and clean. 

His gaze follows your movements, instinctively fitting his body on top of yours the moment you lay down on your back, one hand supporting his weight, and the other one drifting down your plush thigh, roaming up and down as if it's the first time he feels something so tender, forever enamored with the way your body feels against his no matter how many times you make love. 

His fingers drift down to your sopping cunt, swiftly running over your erect clit for a second before he's back to gathering your slick on his fingers, teasing your entrance before going up, rubbing circles over your clit, the way your back arches and your tits jiggle slightly simply makes his cock throb, lowering his hand to grip it, rubbing himself up and down a few times before guiding his thick tip to your entrance, starting to push in. Your hand on his bicep forces him to halt his movements, shooting you a curious, worried look. 

“Not... not that hole.” It only takes a second for your words to register, amusement clear in his face, yet a speck of doubt manages to always crawl its way into his brain. Do you truly want a bastard like him to defile you? Your legs parting to give him more space, not a single hint of hesitation in the way you move, presenting yourself to him.

Perhaps it's about time John allows himself to be selfish— to take what's being offered to him. His grip tightens on his cock, rubbing the tip up and down your sopping pussy, gathering as much slick as he can around the tip, knowing you're going to be a tight fit. 

“Say the word if y'want me to stop.” Your little nod is all he needs, relaxing your lower body as he applies pressure against your tight, puckered hole, feeling it give in and wrap tightly around the tip of his cock, a small groan leaving his lips at the sensation. He sinks into you slowly and carefully, a loud sigh escaping him the moment he managed to bottom out, yet his eyes never once leave your face, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and caress the tender skin with his thumb, giving you as much time as you need to get used to the foreign sensation. 

“You can move now.” The sweetness of your words makes his lips curl up into a sincere smile, his hips rocking into you slowly, feeling your tight hole grip him like a vice, the warmth surrounding him is almost enough to make him cum, yet he focuses solely on your pleasure, his thin lips coming down to kiss your neck, licking a tantalizing stripe over the sensitive skin just to feel your body shudder at the sensation, your hands coming up to caress his back, pulling his body so close that your heat is spreading all over, touching his very own soul. 

“I love this...” His tongue applies more pressure to your neck as you drag out your words, taking full advantage of the sensitive nerves just to feel your throat vibrating against hips lips with each sweet moan that comes out of your lips, daring to fuck into you deeper and harder now that you're used to his size. 

“I love you.” His hips falter for a second, unable to hide the surprise dancing in his slightly widened eyes at your confession, yet the look of love and trust written all over your face drags away any disbelief he felt, his soul freed even if only for a moment as your face finds shelter on the crook of his neck the moment his thrusts speed up, fucking into your tight ass at an almost unlawful pace, wanting you to feel every single inch of his hard cock, of his love. 

A loud groan escapes his lips the moment he feels your teeth bite into his shoulder, likely trying to muffle your crescendo moans, the stinging sensation making his cock throb, slamming himself as deep as he can into your puckered hole, his body weight keeping you pressed down as ropes of thick, hot cum shoot deep into you, painting your tight walls white. His heavy body rests on top of yours, too exhausted to move out of the way yet, the sensation of being lightly crushed oddly pleasant. 

“I love you too. More than anything, more than anyone...” He whispers into your ear, slowly pulling out of you, his dark eyes taking a few seconds to admire his work of art— your gaping hole leaking with his hot, white cum, a thin layer of sweat covering your exhausted, fucked-out body. He lays down next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist just to bring you closer, planting a gentle kiss on top of your forehead. 

His eyes drift down to the red teeth marks on his shoulder, letting out a small chuckle at the idea of having a future bruise as a reminder of your night together.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Hancock x F!Reader [ A03 ]

Summary: You are important to John Hancock; there is a radstorm brewing. As a skilled and reformed scavver, you’re after a part for a decommissioned lounger—it belongs to Doc Amari’s famed Memory Den.

Hancock's tense; he should have gone with you, but it’s not too late to search you out. He would be glad to have you home safe in his arms, only things don’t always go as planned, nor do you go unpunished for your negligence.

Explicit: NSFW / 18+ for PWP, PiV sex, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, whump / hurt and comfort, angst, gun violence, light bondage, praise, light sub/dom undertones, edging, use of chems, alcohol, foul language, and canon-typical violence and behavior. Other worthy mentions include fluff, romance, a worried and protective Hancock, and love confessions.

Notes: I am normally a Star Wars writer. This is my first time writing for Hancock, and my first fic for the Fallout fandom. I see Hancock as multifaceted, which I am having fun exploring. I have many ideas, but one fic can only contain so much! I used a few lines of dialogue from the game because they stuck with me T__T. I will also most likely try my hand at Nick Valentine at some point, (and maybe even Coop), but this ghoul stole my heart.

6.8k+

Feedback appreciated. Like? Reblog! <3 Requests accepted!

Eyes as black as tar pits searched the ground at his feet, though no answers would present themselves, the cold, grimy filth of the Commonwealth something he could relate to on an atomic level. Flecks of barren soil and bits of detritus vaulted upward in a stagnate aggregate of dust, cavalier leather boots—having seen better days—leaving a swirl of varied particulates in their wake.

Hancock paced, the Mayor of Goodneighbor impatient as a hungry mole rat, the man left to stalk before the door that led to the Financial District. A dreary, dark green pall signaled to anyone with brains that there was a storm looming on the horizon, and yet you had not returned.

“Where the hell is she?” a raspy voice asked its sparse audience, two ghouls dedicated to his cause doubling as bodyguards, though if he felt safe anywhere, it was here among his brethren.  Besides, it wasn’t his safety he was worried about, it was yours, and he wasn’t afraid to convey his feelings to the whole of town.

“Startin’ to get antsy. Gotta hand it to her, she’s got me sweatin’ like a whore in church over this. Hope she’s havin’ fun at my expense.”

Scavenging was lucrative, or it could be if you managed to score the right loot. You had to know where to look, or where not to look; danger was always in the cards. It was a game Hancock didn’t like to play, and especially not now, not when lightning streaked the sky, rain clouds pregnant with radiation threatening to burst open like a feral’s head looking down the muzzle of a sawed-off shotgun.

He knew what it was like to be forced to scour the bare bones of buildings, filching anything that was ripe for the picking. A single find could feed a man for weeks, and places like Goodneighbor just didn’t just build themselves. People needed things. Lucky for them, Hancock was able to provide. It was his one claim to fame—his rep was solid—but he didn’t look down on you for being one to scout for buried treasure.

“She’ll turn up,” one of his companions offered. It was a piteous attempt to console him, Hancock all but ignoring his dismissive comment. He felt his concern was obvious, yet his bedfellows were none of their business. Either way, he brushed it off like a decent man instead of snapping like he wanted to—the guy’d done nothing wrong.

Thunderclaps echoed through town, the first of many droplets pelting his marred face, the ghoul’s faithful tricorn not doing much in the way of shielding him from the dirtied water that had begun to trickle down onto its weathered surface.

He rued allowing you to go out on this wild-mongrel chase to begin with, not to say that you weren’t capable. What he might say is that you’re too good for this world, too good for him, but that hadn’t stopped him from falling head over heels.

You weren’t anti-social like most of your kind; you had a good heart, gave paying customers fair deals, and somehow you had kept the ruins from tarnishing your cheerful outlook; you sported a chipper disposition even at the worst of times.

In other words, you were his little ray of sunshine; Hancock had no qualms with telling you that to your face. And things as precious as you were to him? They needed protecting. It was becoming more obvious by the minute that he should have done the job himself.

“If this is her definition of ‘fast,’ we’re going to need to have a little chat to clear a few things up. Should have fucking gone with her, don’t know what I was thinking,” fried vocal cords scratched out, words tinged with worry as he made his way to the reinforced slab of steel that was Goodneighbor’s single entry point, not counting the alley behind Rexford.

“Maybe you weren’t thinkin’ at all, John…” that little voice inside his head nagged at him, reminding himself at every turn of the ways he’d failed, this on the verge of being one of them.

“Want us to look?” the other rejoined, aware you had been sent out on a job to find a replacement circuit board for Doctor Amari, as one of the memory lounger’s had been marked out of service. The doc would pay you well; everyone’s gotta eke a living somehow. Hers was made by sellin’ a man’s own memories back to him, and yours was made by sellin’ spare parts.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t have skipped out on his Mayoral duties for one evening, Hancock mentally scolding himself, his sentiments leading him toward the need to kick his own ass.

Quick, adept and clever, he had no doubt you could pull it off, but you were used to traveling in a group, used to back up and a lookout. You had willingly ditched your crew and settled here for him, making Goodneighbor more or less your permanent home. He couldn’t help but feel like he was ultimately responsible for you and your well-being—so far, so good. He’d be damned if anything happened to you on his watch.

The coming radstorm was starting to sound like a stampede of angry Brahmin. Not even those of his ilk should be out in this mess. Technically immortal, sure, but not immune to accumulating all that bad stuff brewing in the atmosphere; he was comfy right where he was, but not without his lady by his side.

Their self-elected leader ignored the question, reaching into the confines of his red frock coat to unveil the firepower hidden just out of sight. His break-action, double-barreled 12-gauge had most of its stock removed for easy concealment; he knew better than to step foot outside Goodneighbor without packing heat.

“No, you might say this is a personal problem. Not to say she wouldn’t make a damn fine Ghoul,” he stated with deadly calm, kicking the door open with reckless abandon despite his unflappable demeanor, not caring what awaited him on the other side.

“I’m going with you, ain’t safe,” words spoken over harsh winds, a breeze not in the least bit refreshing having descended upon the Commonwealth as Hancock slipped out into the mounting tumult, both men following close behind. Truthfully, he was grateful for their loyalty.  

“Suit yourself, but don’t go gettin’ yourself killed. Would defeat the purpose of a search and rescue, ya feel me?”

A question not needing a response, he ventured forward, running headfirst into the growing tempest, chaos reigning overhead in the form of a blinding light show.

Hancock called out for you, yelling your name over the deafening commotion that was going to get worse before it got better, not about to go home empty-handed, even if it took the whole damn rest of the night. He hoped you were smart enough to know when to quit, or that you’d taken those Mentats he’d stuffed in your pocket on the way out.

“Get back here, scavver!”

Footfalls echoed in the dark, brisk in pace, inky, depthless eyes narrowing as the ghoul searched out the source. He had taken no more than half a dozen steps before he was forced to witness you at a full-fledged run, two burly raiders belting out insults and expletives hot on your trail.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion, but he was stone-cold sober, time standing still as you dove into Hancock’s open arms.

“There’s my girl,” the scoundrel purred into your ear, sinewy limbs enshrouding you as the sound of gunfire and discarded ammo casings nearly went unnoticed. Hancock let his own weapon fall to the ground to accommodate you, your pursuers dispatched like the trash they were. The members of the Neighborhood Watch who had accompanied him outside the walls made short work of both men; they deserved a drink and some chems on his dime.

“John,” you breathed out, smiling up at him, eyes sparkling with mirth as you held up that piece of scrap you were so proud of. His name off your tongue was musical, a warm sensation spreading through him like wildfire, better than drugs—it was a high he would never come down from.

“I—I got the part,” you spoke softly, your tepid breath tickling the remnants of a disfigured ear.

Hancock almost shivered.

But oh, no. He wasn’t about to let you off that easy, not when he’d felt that pang of anxiety and the sickening feeling in his gut like someone had shanked him with his own knife. He held you back by the shoulders, breaking your embrace, his face taking on a displeased, stern shade.

“What’s wrong with you, huh? Makin' me all kinds of nervous. Scarin’ me half to death. And some might say I don’t look too far off.” He breathed in nice and slow, exhaling through exposed nasal cavities, Hancock emitting a sigh to emphasize his disappointment. “Can’t be doin’ things like that, or you’re liable to give this old ghoul a—”

“—Sunshine?” His heart sank, as if the universe was out to prove he had every right to worry, Hancock’s attention inexplicably drawn to the red staining your fingers—it neared the color of his coat. You only now seemed to notice, that radiant light swept from your beaming face as you acknowledged the presence of your own blood on your hands; no wonder it had been so hard to take those last few steps.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, eyes blown wide as you apologized for upsetting him. You would collapse into a heap, the adrenaline that had carried you home seeming to dissipate all at once—at least your fight-or-flight response had done its duty.

---

“Move over, out of the way. I ain’t askin’ twice,” Hancock seethed, the distraught man’s threat to bowl over anyone who stood in his way not to be taken lightly, though his tone was traitorously even and his despondency well-masked. He stormed the Old State House, ascending the spiral staircase to the second floor, carrying your limp body to a tattered red couch.

Refuse and empty Jet inhalers, along with half-drunk bottles of alcohol and boxes of Mentats, were all swept aside, Hancock throwing open cabinet doors and dislodging drawers in his haste.

“Oh, you’re really in it now, aren’t you, sister? Just had to make a few extra caps!” he chided, the ghoul’s husky voice rising in volume as he took to another part of the room.

Having not yet succumbed to blood loss, you were barely cognizant as you fought to stay awake, your beloved Mayor nothing more than a blur of motion and splotches of red as he systematically searched every nook and cranny for the syringe that would save your life.

“Hang on, dollface, you’re not dying today. Not if I have anything to say about it—and you know how much I love to run my mouth.” Hancock spoke to reassure you and himself, filling the silence with something other than the curses he wanted to dish out every which way to the wind. You couldn’t help but to smile again despite your predicament, eyelids drooping as you thought about the idea of sleep.

“There you are,” he growled, your vision starting to glaze over, though you were aware Hancock had come back to your side. His scarred, yet deceptively handsome face hovered inches above your own; it was an acquired taste you had no trouble in accepting.

“This is gonna hurt, but it’s better than the alternative,” he provided in short warning, withered fingers fumbling to unbutton your top, exposing first your sternum, your ribs, and then your belly.

“Shit, they got you good,” Hancock grumbled, your hand rising to cradle his jaw as he had peeled back the flaps of fabric to inspect the wound in your side. You were surprisingly calm, thinking that if today was your last day on Earth, at least you had been blessed to experience his company. 

“I’m glad it’s you here with me,” your voice, meek and mild, declared. Hancock hesitated for one precious second, caught off guard, but pleasantly so.

“Don’t go gettin’ sentimental on me! Ain’t like these are your final moments or nothin’,” he assured, an audible tremble causing his words to waver, voice rising in pitch. He went on to stab you without ceremony, the needlepoint of a stimpak and its revitalizing medicine at once injecting itself into your damaged flesh and pulsing through your bloodstream.

You moaned in pain, hips arching as you lifted slightly up off the cushions before you settled once more, allowing yourself to finally relax as Hancock watched the regenerative process take hold, much to his relief.

---

You awoke, finding yourself supine atop a mattress, with Hancock crossed legged on the floor beside you. He had brought it down from upstairs, wanting you to have somewhere more comfortable to recover; the drifters weren’t using it, but he was sure he could scrounge another one up should the need arise.

The door was shut, the rest of the room empty, the man teetering off the edge of a high he wished he could prolong; he had pumped himself full of all those things that made him feel better. Riddled with guilt, he had imbibed both chems and alcohol, his body slightly swaying from left to right as he could not sit entirely still, yet he was too far off in his own head to notice you had come back to him.

You shifted, realizing he had draped his frock across your body to act as a temporary blanket. This simple gesture caused a flutter behind sore ribs, biceps activating so that you might push up and rest on the flat of your palms.

John was idle, near-dead to the world, eyes closed as he kept up that gentle rocking, back and forth, as if lost in music or in deep meditation. You only desired to watch him, studying the intricate, striated patterns of his ravaged flesh, gazing over the hollow of his once human nose, and admiring his sullied, foppish tunic that was a part of his infamous ensemble.

While some might consider him a monster, he was a being of light. He had superficial, obvious flaws, but he was no more guilty of sin than anyone else in this day and age. He was a beautiful soul, inside and out, and your opinion was the only one that mattered to you. Hancock always tried to do the right thing—it’s what drew you to him—even if that meant taking out a few loose ends. 

Your heart stirred, natural chemical processes taking hold that would prompt you to touch him, your hormones dictating that you wanted this man carnally.

The ghoul’s eyes bolted open as you shuffled forward on your behind; you set his coat aside almost reverently, folding your legs like his, knees brushing as you leaned forward to kiss his wiry lips. Soft flesh against textured skin, rough in comparison, felt no less wonderful, Hancock groaning out a throaty sound of appreciation as he slowly shut his eyes again.

That was all the encouragement you needed, pressing closer, crawling onto Hancock’s lap as his hands found the meat of your ass to give it a squeeze. “Someone’s feelin’ better…” he quipped, allowing himself to lie back on the floor. His smile was lackadaisical and content, his touch roving to your thighs as he gazed up at you, noting you were tugging off your already unbuttoned top to reveal your shapely breasts.

“How’d a guy like me get so damn lucky…” he drawled, Hancock’s normally assertive way of speaking temporarily replaced by a calming cadence—it was dreamy—his indolent tone arousing your most base instincts.

You didn’t answer at first, thinking you’re the one who’s lucky. You had wanted and needed a change of pace, not happy with the way your business partners were operating, willing to bring death to others in order to get what scrap they could. You only took things from the ruins, or from those who deserved to be robbed, the idea of senseless violence proliferating thanks to people like your ragtag group something you decided you couldn’t live with.

You’d come to Goodneighbor looking for work; Hancock had been willing to give you a chance, and you didn’t disappoint. After a few heady conversations and risqué flirtations at the Third Rail, you had wound up in his arms—a place you found yourself never wanting to leave.

“I could ask you the same question,” you finally muttered, grazing his mouth, kisses repeating, small pecks placed from one side to the other in a physical show of adoration. The ghoul laughed a wry, salacious little laugh, head turning to allow for this impromptu bout of affection, stretching one arm out behind his head to act as a pillow as he relished the attention.

Then, his smile faded, the chem’s effects lingering like background radiation, less intense than before—the high lasted mere minutes if that, his faculties gradually returning. The hand left free gingerly touched your side, just below where he had administered the stimpak hours earlier. Concern was apparent in glistening eyes, so dark and lovely, starry pupils reflecting the faint luminescence of his surroundings.

“Not lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he promised, every shred of levity fleeing to be replaced by austerity, low, somber notes causing a visceral reaction as the onset of something warm and fuzzy spread throughout your core.

“Bein’ out here with me? Means you don’t gotta work, but I should have had your back, sunshine. Ain’t got no excuse.”

“You can have me on my back,” you playfully retorted, the simple suggestion unleashing a purr from the bowels of the ghoul’s throat. The idea of being a kept woman pleased you, but you were more interested in pleasing him.

“You better watch your mouth, or I can’t be held responsible for all those things I’m going to do to you,” Hancock countered. He talked big game, but he was still feelin’ shook. He didn’t want to risk getting too frisky on the off chance your body needed more time to heal; you were only human, after all.

“I’m shaking in my boots,” you simpered. Hancock was quick to snark back.

“I know that’s a lie, ‘cause you’re not wearing any.”

You gasped as Hancock flipped you without warning, pinning both your wrists to either side of your head. He drank in the smooth, supple flesh of your curves, hungry eyes making damn sure to get their fill.

He couldn’t stop himself, exploring the swell of a perfect tit, Hancock’s mouth becoming newly acquainted with the sensitive flesh of your nipple. He flicked its pert tip with the point of his tongue; you brazenly rolled your hips as you tried to contain the lewd sound that threatened to escape you.

“I double dog dare you, ” you tempted, not in the least bit afraid of what he might have in store.

Hancock didn’t take the bait.

“Don’t want to hurt you, love, but let’s say I give it to you nice and slow… Or as slow as I can give it; hard to keep promises, lookin’ the way you do,” he argued, ruined lips applying pressure as he began to suck, his growing erection gently grinding into the meat of your thigh.

“You won’t hurt me.” You shuddered as he pulled back, gazing into murky, otherworldly eyes, their glow hypnotizing. You half-assed a struggle, wanting to pull your hands free if only to touch him, Hancock chuckling mildly at your efforts.

“Don’t be so sure, ‘cause I got a hankerin’ for human,” his voice dropped emphatically lower, toying with you, his dire inflection sending tingles down your spine. Coming from a ghoul, most people would run the other way, but you knew from experience, Hancock had a twisted sense of humor—it was something you loved about him.

“Eat me,” you jeered, snapping your teeth playfully like some creature that roamed the wasteland, Hancock pulling his head back just enough to satisfy you, as if he had a nose to bite off to begin with.

“That’s the plan, sister,” he snickered, finally releasing his grip on your arms.

You took the opportunity to take hold of Hancock’s already tousled vest, guiding him down to meet your lips. Your fingers busied themselves with its unbuttoning as the ghoul had his hands full, cradling the plump, healthy tissue of your blushing cheeks in the crooks of his palms.

Hancock fed a grating moan into your mouth before asking a pointless question he already knew the answer to, not one to miss out on a chance to have his ego stroked. “Somethin’ about me.. turnin' you on? Don’t know why you’d go for this ugly mug,” he conceded, fishing for a compliment. 

“You. You turn me on,” you whined plaintively, “everything about you,” you confessed, furling your tongue around his, willing him to shut his trap long enough for you to kiss him properly. He aided in the undressing, whipping his sash off in one fell swoop, an idea blossoming only to come into fruition shortly thereafter.

“That why you’re actin’ so desperate for me?” Hancock laced that bit of ragged flag around both your wrists, constricting them once more, his own arm extending to tauten its hold. He wouldn’t give you the chance to kiss him the way you wanted to, cinching its loose ends around the legs of the coffee table just behind your head, giving it a good tug to make sure you couldn’t break free.

In reality, it would have been easy to wiggle loose, but he knew you were the type to play along.

“What are you doing?” you asked, feigning alarm. The ghoul only grinned a shit-eating grin, crawling backward across your lap to adjust to a better position for his next course of action. 

“Makin’ sure you can’t skip out on me,” he said matter of fact, a mischievous lilt to his voice, “gonna have to punish you for all that worryin’ you made me do.” 

“But, Hancock—” you protested, realizing he was barring you from the one thing you wanted—full access to his person, unable to grope and caress all those parts of him you were so eager to touch and kiss.

“—Hmm?” he hummed, the bastard having the nerve to stand. He left you in a recumbent position with hands tied, unable to do anything but gaze up at the seductive set of motions he was now subjecting you to.

The ghoul painstakingly unfastened the remainder of his buttons, wizened digits fondling each in turn, his manner suggesting something that for now would remain unspoken. Then, Hancock shrugged his vest off, allowing his arms to hang as the garment dropped silkily to the floor. It was followed by a festooned shirt, leaving the man bare chested and amused; he wasn’t sure you had blinked even once.

“Like what you see?” he asked lazily, tracing a line across his gaunt pecs toward his navel with the curl of a finger, black eyes glinting impishly at the sight of you jostling your wrists as you failed to liberate yourself.

“Yes,” you breathed out shamelessly, unable to deny the effect his little striptease had on you. This in and of itself was torture, finding his brand of punishment entirely unfair.

“Good,” Hancock crooned, doing the unthinkable as he vanished from view. He even went so far as to walk beyond your peripheral vision. Instead, you were reduced to listening out for him, the ghoul shuffling around somewhere behind you. 

“John,” you whined, sitting up and scooting back against the coffee table the best you could. You endeavored to crane your neck, hearing the clink of glass preceding other innocuous sounds, the gentle thud of Hancock’s boots echoing across the rotting floorboards as he made his way back around. 

“You can say my name all you want to, princess, but it ain’t gonna change a damn thing,” Hancock stressed, words clawing their way out of cracked pipes as he nudged your knees apart with his foot; he knelt between your legs, a dispenser of Jet in one hand, and a dose of Rad-X in the other. “Open wide,” he instructed. 

You should have known what he’d been after, the drug-addicted ghoul popping the lone anti-radiation capsule inside his mouth after dispensing a heavy spray of the illicit substance into his lungs; its potency was limited in his case, but you were easily susceptible to its high. 

You gratefully obeyed, wanting any excuse to be close to him, Hancock’s silver tongue molesting you as easily as it had persuaded you to listen. He deposited the pill into your mouth, kissing you deeply, your beloved Mayor giving you a shotgun of thick, odorous chems without so much as a single protest on your part. 

Your heart thrummed, Jet leeching its way into your bloodstream to trigger a bodily response via your nervous system. In the meantime, you had almost forgotten to swallow your dose of Rad-X, Hancock prompting you by trailing the full length of your throat with a single, sallow finger. 

He massaged it down, feeling for the activation of those muscles that would help ferry it along, his thoughts drifting to the memory of his cock once upon a time being slopped on by the wet whorl of your tongue. His prick had throbbed almost painfully, sequestered snugly inside your zealous gullet, the powerful suction of your hollow cheeks threatening to wrench his soul from his body, or it sure as hell had felt that way.

He was drawn back to the present moment by the look in your eyes, your pupils dilating to rival the circumference of dinner plates. You gazed at the man before you; Hancock pulled back the edge of your bottom lip, exposing your gumline, the ghoul snaking another of his fingers inside your partially open mouth. 

The slender extremity would bypass your blunt teeth, saturating itself in your saliva. Even in this state, you had the wherewithal to pucker up, intaking that explorative digit to the knuckle, your plush maw behaving like a deluxe pre-war vacuum cleaner. 

The ghoul shuddered, though keeping his cool intact, lost in the depths of your unwavering stare. He slowly slipped back out, releasing your lip for it to snap gently back into place, Hancock satisfied with the knowledge you had swallowed the pill.

“Look at you, bein’ such a good girl for me,” Hancock praised, speaking in a low, sultry whisper. You did not reply, your desire for the man at its all-time high, that warmth in your belly having spread to complement the unparalleled ache of your loins.

“Hancock,” you whimpered, once more tugging at the cloth that bound you. You felt delirious with longing, your heart racing as you saw stars, euphoria overtaking all of your senses. You pushed forward, halted partway by that fucking flag that had you fettered like some common criminal, too blazed to even think about squirming loose. 

“Please,” you begged, lips reaching for his. Hancock evaded you, trailing a divot devoid of cartilage across your sateen cheek, directing it toward your lovely, intact nose. 

“Please, what, sister?” he ruthlessly teased, watching as your tongue tried to skirt his teeth; its vertex barely met its goal. Still, Hancock would return the gesture with a sweep of his own, flitting his against yours, inhaling deeply the scent of Jet off your breath as he was suddenly consumed by an almost feral need to taste your neediness—it was nearly palpable. 

“Please.. touch you? Please kiss you? Please.. fuck your pretty little hole?” he asked in a derisive tone, though his movements were languid, Hancock in no rush to oblige you, even as his veiny hands glided over every inch of your sleek skin.

“Is that what my little ray of sunshine wants?” the ghoul taunted, moving to unbutton the clasp at the top of your pants, then pinching the pull of your zipper, teeth parting to reveal clean cotton. You were nearly embarrassed by how damp your panties were, the chems only making your arousal ten times worse; Hancock wasn’t helping matters, a lecherous moan reaching your ears as the man slid back and realigned himself, bending forward to bury his face in the moist outline staining your skivvies.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet—” he marveled breezily, “—is it all for me?” Hancock rasped, nipping you through the fabric, a desiccated finger tucking itself into its elastic hem. Hancock dragged it down just far enough to expose your sweet-smelling sex, the ghoul’s tongue slithering easily between slick folds. 

You inhaled a disjointed gasp for breath, voice cracking as you cried out in ecstasy, Hancock having barely swiped your thrumming clit. That alone was almost too much, your hips bucking beneath him of their own volition as you pleaded with him to keep his promise.

“Don’t tease,” you sighed, naked breasts rising and falling with every labored breath. Hancock’s eyes traveled up your fine as fuck body before meeting your gaze, a twisted hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his ghoulish mouth. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he snickered, fingers grasping the entirety of your waistband to help you shimmy off your bottom layer of clothes. Your hips wriggled all too desperately, overjoyed to finally be free of their constraints. 

“But that’s not fair!” you entreated, unabashedly spreading your legs in the hopes of providing him a suitable meal, ready and willing to be devoured if you could only convince him to take the plunge.  

“And why not?” he asked in all seriousness, nuzzling into the lush flesh of your labia as his silky tongue entombed itself, gathering your moist heat from its source. He dipped back out to your chagrin—you had inhaled sharply in preparation only to be left disappointed—Hancock licking a stripe to the cusp of your throbbing bud. 

“Because I’ll die,” you replied, overexaggerating, writhing in bliss, albeit temporary; Hancock seemed out to drive you mad, retracting once more to glance back up at you, reedy lips downturned in a disapproving frown. 

“No, you won’t,” he asserted, voice taking on a sobering, sincere quality; even if you were being hyperbolic, after the events that had just transpired, Hancock didn’t find it funny, resolving to dine on you good and proper, as if it would be the thing to save your life. 

“I—” You were cut off mid-thought, lightning crashing thunderously outside, the ghoul introducing two coarse fingers into your clenching cunt as the radstorm raged on. Hancock’s neck sank low as you arched your hips, the flat of a thick tongue bringing you toward rapture as he succinctly lapped your clit in delicious combination, playing you like some Old World violin. 

“Aren’t you glad you’re trapped in here with me instead of out there cookin’ alive?” Hancock asked offhand, digits curling to find the seat of your pleasure, warm, wet muscle dancing slow, precise circles across your sensitive nerves. You halfheartedly yanked at your bindings once more, wishing for nothing more than to ravish him like a woman starved, deprived of sustenance. 

“Yes, yes— please, just like that,” you answered, urging him on, the man encouraged to keep at it, long, languorous strokes titillating you toward release.

Then, he simply stopped, fingers glossy upon exit, Hancock sucking your slick clean off with a scarecrow smile, tilting his head like a curious animal as you bemoaned your plight, left to suffer on the edge of an orgasm. 

“Relax, I ain’t through with you yet,” Hancock remarked, lifting himself up to a seated position on his knees. You whined indignantly, made to watch as he unbuckled and unzipped his own pants.

The rogue stood completely, giving you another show, kicking one boot off after the other before slinking out of the rest of his clothes. 

You took a moment to admire him, skin pockmarked with scars, deep pits of tissue missing where cells had inevitably healed all too quickly, John a mosaic of gnarled, misshapen flesh and keloid. Yet he was so handsome, charming, and cavalier, the man leaving nothing on but his tricornered hat, returning to his previous enterprise by way of interring his roiling tongue into your aching center. 

“Oh, John,” you murmured, voice hushed, the man’s thumb working itself concentrically atop your little pearl. 

For once, he was quiet, his strokes inside you meticulous, the nearly silent room filled with a plethora of obscene sounds as he feasted on you like a Yao guai over a fresh kill. Just a little attention was all it took, nails digging into the palms of your tied hands as you twisted beneath him, vocalizing loud enough you were sure the whole State House would hear.

A shiver rocked you to your core, riding out your climax for as long as you could stand it. You were unable to push Hancock’s head back even if you wanted to, the ghoul finding a new way to punish you, continuing to stimulate your already oversensitive clit. 

“Hancock, please—” you begged him under different circumstances, the ball of your foot gingerly pushing against his blatant hard-on. The ghoul finally let up just enough to chortle dryly, obviously nonplussed.

“Done already? Thought we were just gettin’ this party started,” he flouted, sitting up properly, probing fingers caressing the curve of your slit as they trailed upward, ghosting over your navel to tweak your nipple. They didn’t stop there, reaching just behind you to nab a cigarette off the edge of the coffee table, your expression giving away your confusion as he struck a match to ignite the end.

“No, John— you’re supposed to fuck me!” you berated, another devious little chuckle let loose from wilted lips. The ghoul inhaled a deep drag of nicotine laced with radiation, though the amount contained therein was so trivial he didn’t bat a lash—not that he had any.

He gazed at you through a thin veil of smoke exuded from eroded nasal passages—a short burst of pressure from his lungs propelling it outward—a freakish sight to some, but you had grown accustomed to it. 

“So, that is what you want,” Hancock digressed, snubbing the end of his cig on the floor after a few more laggard puffs. The Jet was wearing off, Hancock having already sobered completely, its side effects leaving you feeling used-up and exhausted. Hancock had forgotten what it felt like to come down from such an intense high; you pouted pathetically up at him.

“Baby,” you whined, immediately capturing Hancock's attention. He dropped the act, eyes softening around the edges, colorless voids somehow the most expressive you had ever seen them.

“What is it, sunshine? Feelin’ all right? Need somethin’ to take the edge off?” he asked gently, concern present in his tone, the ghoul finally being kind enough to reach over your head to free you from your bindings. 

“I need you,” you implored, your speech sounding childishly irritable, tired, heavy arms lifting to wrap themselves around John’s neck; you couldn’t help yourself, having been prohibited from touching him for what felt like hours, when in reality it had only been a short length of time. 

“I’m all yours,” Hancock vowed, whisking a stray strand of your hair away. A soft kiss was pressed into even softer lips; the man was two sides of the same coin, like night and day. Part of you prayed you would never cross him, his temper volatile, like an active volcano lying dormant until such a time the right conditions were met, inevitably causing an eruption. 

But he was also kind, genuine, and a good person, only wanting to make the Commonwealth a better place; he held within him a righteous anger, and for good reason, determined to stick by him through thick and thin. 

"Nice and slow?" you asked, bringing the conversation full circle, ushering the ghoul down on top of you as you laid back, gazing up with heavy-lidded eyes. He searched your face, as if double-checking for something, needing to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that nothing was wrong—you were only sulking. 

“You got it, sister,” Hancock replied coyly, the fullness of a finger returning to you as he tested the waters; you were still so unbelievably wet. It was a stark contrast to the dry, desolate landscape that stretched for miles just beyond his little town, the ghoul humming in gratitude as you kissed him once again. 

You wasted no time, slipping your hand between the depression of your bodies where hip meets hip, his weight a warm, inviting presence that comforted you like nothing else. Your fingers toyed with his variegated shaft, thumbing a bead of loosed pre-cum to moisten its tip; Hancock moaned lustfully as he buried himself deeper into the column of your throat, teeth raking tender flesh, barely withholding the intention to bite.

“I’m thinkin’ you must be the single best thing to ever happen to me,” Hancock confessed in a dulcet whisper, voice quavering with emotion as you carefully escorted his cock inside you, one delicious inch at a time. Jagged breaths found their way into your ear, distorted, ribbed flesh, more than adequate in length and girth, stretching you open, a subdued sound of longing and relief birthed from parted lips. 

“I love you,” you blurted out, unable to keep your feelings at bay, any and all movements ceasing before they had wholly begun.

You had closed your eyes; they fluttered open, fear wheedling its way inside your heart as Hancock gazed at you in silence. You cursed yourself, having never before expressed such a sentiment out loud, unsure how the man would take it, or if he even felt remotely the same—all signs pointed to yes, but you refused to be presumptuous. 

Then, he pushed up into your tight cunt with one slow, smooth stroke of his cock along your anterior walls, stimulating your G-spot. Pleasure radiated through you as you emitted a stilted breath, Hancock cradling your cheek, resting his forehead against yours to stare penetratingly into your eyes.

“Took you to be smarter than this, but I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that,” he breathed against your lips, slipping a motile tongue into your mouth, wanting to desperately deepen your connection. 

You readily accepted, your own tongue writhing and contracting in unison with his, heart beating fervently behind a wall of blood and bone. Your fingers clawed and grasped at his narrow shoulders and the tendinous flesh of his back, exploring every inch of your ghoulish lover, from head to jutting hipbone.

Hancock drove his cock into you, back and forth, keeping a steady, equal rhythm like the beat of a drum. “Why now?” he asked, voice tempered, each pump of his thick prick inside you unhurried and sensuous.

“Nearly dying may have had something to do with it,” you jested in-between indecent, muted moans, Hancock’s deliberate pace driving you toward orgasm. The arm not supporting his weight curled tightly around you. He clutched you to his chest, and you wrapped your thighs around his waif thin waist in return. 

“Mmn.. that it?” Spindly fingers moved to grip the back of your head, digging into tufts of your hair; your back bowed to support you in joining with him more fully, Hancock massaging your scalp as he massaged your insides, debauch, rich sounds filling both your ears.

“And because I have nothing to lose,” you reluctantly answered, breath picking up speed as you pushed back against firm, rawboned pectorals with the palm of your hand; you had the intention of arranging yourself at just the right angle to please— a simple slant of your hips would make things all too easy.

Within moments, you came, pinpricks of light overwhelming your senses. You were elated, as if your consciousness had been overtaken by a nebulous cloud of love and electromagnetic radiation, a soul set adrift in a swirling haze of thoughts, feelings and emotions that would amalgamate into something beautiful—it caused you to cry out a sound of intense, heartfelt bliss. 

Your mind went blank, only registering that John had simultaneously shared in the experience. It would take you both a moment to calm.

Then, you squeezed Hancock tightly between your legs, a signal for him to not withdraw, but to stay awhile, the tension in your body settling as you laid back down.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Hancock would smother you with his scant weight, caressing the point of your chin, his thumb snaking across your bottom lip. He gave a faint exhalation of breath, the concave outline of his nasal cavity grazing the convex shape of your nose; it tickled.

“Nothing to lose but each other.”

[k1ngpin42]

The Hat stays on ;)

Warnings: MINORS DNI, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral (giving and receiving) probably more stuff ;) 

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝟤 𝑜𝒻 𝒢𝓇𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒

¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ 🎀•._.•ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸ 🎀•._.• 🎀•._.•ø¤º°`°º¤ø

You lead the ghoul across the the endless expanse of barren earth and crumbling ruins toward the small bar you had met Mr Flint at earlier. The sound of his stupid name in your head sounded like food poisoning as you remembered quite how effortlessly his existence had been cut short by your own hand.  Indirectly perhaps, but you had killed a person to save a ghoul, and that was the reality of the situation. 

The ghoul was cold and expressionless. More than usual anyway, with silence broken only by the crunch of his boots on the parched ground. He looks at the bar warily, and you take the first step by sitting down before him, eying the rather annoying and familiar robot in front of you. 

It tilts its head, watching the ghoul with its soulless eyes.

“Vodka again, please.” You tell it. This time, you put a bag containing what must have been hundreds of caps into the robots hand.

“I want the bottle this time.” You say, and the ghoul finally takes a seat. 

“Talk.” He says, grabbing the bottle off of you and pouring some down his throat. Despite how tense the situation is, or perhaps that was part of the thrill, you pressed your thighs together at the image of the liquid flowing into his mouth and a little down his chin. The look on his face as he tastes it, almost as if he has experienced ecstasy or perhaps an orgasm. You clear your throat. 

“My sister isn’t in danger.” You murmur. The ghoul wipes his mouth.

“No shit.” He replies, looking directly at you this time and making your cheeks flush. As you explain the situation to him further, the truth about how Flint had recognised your skill and asked you to take down the very ghoul you were talking to now, the ghoul stared at you hungrily. 

“I agreed to build the explosives and lure you up there- I mean it was 1000 caps! But then….” Cooper nods in a way that implies he knows you better than you do yourself, and that would probably be true. 

“But then.” He agrees. You take a deep breath.

“I didn’t want to hurt you…or kill you or whatever. I tried to tell Flint but-“

“His name was flint?” You roll your eyes.

“Yep, a stupid name, that has been established. I told Flint I wouldn’t do it but he wouldn’t leave it alone so I lured him to the rigged location instead.” Something unrecognisable flashes across the ghouls face. 

“You killed an innocent man…for me?�� His voice sounds lighter now, more human. The very essence of the sound tugs away at your heart. 

“I didn’t want to be responsible for your death.” You add. “Why? Seem’s like the world would be better off-“

“That’s not true!” You blurt out, and the ghoul is just as surprised as you are at the words. You decide to continue. “You helped me.” He doesn’t respond, as if teasing you with the effect the silence had on you, as you always filled it with awkward words that rushed out of your mouth before your brain could stop it. 

“I didn’t want you to die. No one’s looked out for me like that, even if I was lying - which I feel bad about now…you’re….nice-ish, and just trying to get by… I wasn’t going to end your life without even getting to know you.” He scoffs.

“Oh so you want to get to know me, huh?” The ghoul questions, sarcastically. You sigh. 

“I was fascinated by you, I guess. Always have been by ghouls. Are you going to kill me?” You question. He shakes his head.

“Convince me not to, and you can go.” You say nothing for a while. What could you even say? ‘Please don’t kill me, I have so much more insignificant shit to do with my life?’ He laughs at the silence.

“Well now you’re just begging me to kill you-“

“Wait-“ You blurt out. And his face becomes more serious as he waits for your plea.

“I don’t want to die without…knowing you.” You suggest. He smiles.

“Well played, little killer. What do you want to know?” He asks, and the question comes as a surprise to you. 

“Your name?” You ask. He nods.

“What makes you assume I have one?” “Everyone has a name. Even out here.” 

“It’s Cooper. Howard.” Cooper confesses.

“Y’ Ready to die yet?”

“What um….is with the hat?” You stumble over your words. He smiles.

“You’re stalling sweetheart.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting to get shot right away. The hat.” You protest, and the ghoul is certainly less than subtle over the way you standing up for yourself impresses him. You hate the way he’s toying with you. If he wanted you dead you’d be dead, wouldn’t you? But he sounded so soft when you told him you actually wanted to save him.

“That’s my business.” He answers. You nod.

“The accent…where are you from?” That question was just desperate, and you could tell he didn’t take it seriously either. 

“You like my accent sweetheart?” He asks. You freeze. “I’ve seen you get all wide eyed when I talk. Maybe this is why you didn’t want me to die hm? You hoping I’d talk to you like this?” 

“Maybe my reaction is because you make me nervous…you could have killed me. Still can.” He sighs. 

“Or maybe some fucked up part of you finds me desirable instead. I’d bet anything that that is what makes you nervous. Not my guns…not my…rough skin.” You shake your head.

“Don’t know what you me-“ He shuts you up by leaving an aggressive, hungry kiss in your mouth, tongue lapping up your saliva like he needed it to live. You let out a shaky, shocked breath.

“What was that for…” You ask. He shrugs.

“You run your mouth a lot, thought I’d better get to the source.” You’re still too entranced by the situation, by his entire existence, to register any attempts of comedy right now. “Is this what you killed a man for? You were hopin’ with my sweet accent and my hat that I’d find out about your little scheme and punish you good for it? Although I suppose it ain’t much of a punishment if you want it…”

“What are you talking about…?”

“I’m talkin about sex darlin. Or have you never met a ghoul capable of that either?” The robot made a strange sound that causes you to jump. “Didn’t know that thing knew English…” The ghoul murmured to himself. He turns over to you and just laughs at your reaction.

“Something got you worked up?” He questions, standing up and grabbing you by the arm.

“I’m gonna make you regret not killing me.” He says, pulling you away and not letting you go. Even as you get into an abandoned building, he’s clinging onto you. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to indicate you wouldn’t want to find out what would happen if you tried to free yourself from his grasp. He pushes you gently onto the ground, making you lie with your back flat against it.

“I told you I may still eat you.” He hums, only some essence of humour remaining to his words. “May I?” He asks. You understand what he meant about the wide eyed look you got, because in this current moment, you looked not unlike a cartoon lamb and felt equally as stuck in headlights. 

“As in…eat me…out?” You ask. Cooper just laughs.

“Don’t tell me no man’s ever eaten that pretty, smooth pussy before darlin.”

“It’s a lonely wasteland!” You try to defend, laughing yourself now too. 

“So…can I-“

“You can do anything you want to me.” You say, not expecting those words to come out quite as fast as they did. The ghoul grins. 

“Lonely indeed.” He falls onto his knees, spreading your legs apart and pulling your pants down to your ankles quite effortlessly. 

With equal parts tongue and teeth, he plants kisses up your thighs and in between them, leaving pretty red marks that would remember his affection even days later. He traces the outside of your panties with his long fingers, making you gasp out in pleasure. Smiling in approval at your noise, he drags his two middle fingers along your clothed pussy and watced as the fabric become stained with your slick.

“Please…” You moan, and it made Cooper fucking feral. 

“Words, what do you want?”

“Mmph…” You hum, trying to decide between his fingers, mouth, and what you really wanted. That was another thing you were curious about. I mean, do ghouls even have functioning dicks…? You wanted to laugh at the thought of his cum having radiation or something, or being made of just ash. 

Your thoughts were silenced when the ghoul decided for you, having found your clit and starting to increase the pace through the fabric. It hurt so good, the friction, but you wanted to feel him directly. 

“Take it off…please.” You beg, and Cooper kisses your clothed cunt approvingly. He grabs the line of your panties and tears it to one side, licking eagerly all over. 

“H…holy…oh fuck….” He laps up even more of you, finding your clit and moving his head around in circles. You thought it’d feel different or unpleasant without his nose, but the rough skin made you feel even better, like you could cum already and he had only just begun. 

“Slow d…fuck…please Cooper I’ll cum-“  He laughs into your cunt, continuing at the same pace.

“God d- fuck yo- mhnng….” You say, eyes shutting and stomach swirling as you come undone hard on his face. He doesn’t let up for a while, allowing you to squirm and revel in the pleasure. When he comes back up to face you, he is looking at you with smug arrogance.

“You see sweetheart, you can beg for your god to save you as much as you want, but I gave you your chance. If you want me to stop all you have to do is ask, but you’re not gonna ask, are you?” Your blushing ferociously and still feeling high from your orgasm. Too much so to think about responding, but that simply won’t do for the ghoul.

“Answer me.”

“No. No don’t stop…please” You whimper, pathetically. He smiles widely. 

“Don’t worry I won’t.” He says, bringing his fingers to his mouth and putting them inside your eagerly awaiting hole. You were embarrassed at how easily they slid in, and even more embarrassed at the high pitched moan you released. He pumps them painfully slow in and out, watching your reaction with each thrust, listening to your loud, slow breaths.

“So good…” You sigh, and he starts going faster, and faster, and then so fast that you’re on the fucking edge again like it’s nothing. It made you question just how many people he had been with in this wasteland to know how to make a girl cum this hard, or maybe he was always just gifted.

“Howard…gonna cum…” You cry, and he kisses you while you ride his fingers. 

“Good girl, cum for me….” Fuck, if you weren’t already embarrassingly wet before, you were certainly soaking now. Your thighs shake as you tighten around his fingers and the same, proud look touches his face.

“So pretty.” He praises, gently.  He looks at your glassy eyes and dishevelled, pretty lips. “Ready for more?” He asks, and you nod eagerly, but Cooper Howard is a gentleman, at least in this regard, he wasn’t going to rush such a perfect moment. It was the most excitement he had had in years, and you were so fucking gorgeous. There were pretty people in the wasteland he was sure, but to find someone free of radiation damage, blemishes and other damage who actually wanted to interact with him in any way shape or form was a rarity he was truly grateful for. 

Instead of doing anything else just yet, he put his hand around your neck. He didn’t grab it, he just rested it there and slowly pulled you in with it. He sucked hard on your neck and you let out a moan as he does so. He’s genuinely surprised at the sound. He doesn’t remember the last time his own body felt sensitive, so he hadn’t really accounted for the way just his warm mouth working away at the soft skin of your neck would make you squirm and moan like this. It was arousing, and made him feel powerful. He was a little worried he would hurt you, but the way you begged him for more indicated that wouldn’t really be an issue. 

“I want to make you feel good.” You say, and he’s sucking at your collarbone. He just shakes his head.

“Mm- that’s okay.” He says, moving to your ear on the left side. Your smile fades a little.

“Well…does…it not feel good anymore? As a ghoul I mean….”  He gives you a warning look and at first you’re worried he’ll lash out or even worse, stop. But he doesn’t do either, instead his face softens a little.

“It does feel good for me but I don’t know how it will feel for you. It won’t be what you’re used to. Not….the same….” He admits. You smile comfortingly at him. 

“Can I touch you? Just touch…I won’t….I won’t do anything, won’t even move my hand I just want to feel.” You say, and he sighs, unbuckling his pants.

He picks up your right hand and puts it inside them. When you put your hand on the cold, slightly toughened skin you immediately want to feel more, to palm it, feel the head, perhaps, but you told him you wouldn’t, so instead you just softly felt what he let you. 

“Pretty freaky, huh?” He asks. You’re still smiling and you shake your head reassuringly. 

“Can you feel it when I move my hand up and down it?” You question, softly. He closes his eyes, embarrassed. 

“You felt it, that’s enough….” He says. You remove your hand and gaze into his eyes pleadingly. 

“If it sucks, I can stop.” You say. He lets out an embarrassed groan. 

“You can move it one time. But if I say stop you damn well better listen-“

“Yeah that’s like a pretty well known rule for anyone who isn’t a raper, Cooper…” 

“Jesus that wasn’t what I- just have at it already.” He says, and you laugh, returning your hand. You move your hand further down and fuck, he’s bigger than the pants had lead on. You grasp it a little harder, moving your hand up and down. You explore his balls too, and somehow his body felt exactly as you thought it would. You run your thumb over the head and he lets out the cutest sound you could have imagined. You smile up at him.

“Well that was a sound.” You tease, and he rolls his eyes, smiling back. You start palming him faster and he lets out a quiet and heavy breath. 

“Can I take them off Cooper?” You ask, and he knows he’s already given this much of himself to you, there really wasn’t that much more to lose.

“What do you say?” He asks, wanting to maintain any sort of power he once had over you. You nod, accepting his tactics. 

“Please?” He agrees and you push his pants down. He steps over them and you toss them to the other wall of the building. You’re moving at a fast pace now. He’s moaning and gasping, putting his hand on your cheek approvingly. Then, a familiar warm liquid paints the tip of him and you want so desperately to try it for yourself. 

“Want….want to taste you, please.”

“No way…we don’t know what that could do-“ You laugh.

“Worried I’m gonna become Spiderman or something?” He looks at you confused. 

“What the fuck is a ‘spiderman?’ 

“You know the protagonist from giant insects invade?  The magazine?”

“No…” He dismisses quickly, and you can’t help but smile at that reaction. 

“Well, for your info, spiderman had some amazing tips about resisting radiation, in fact I’d say I’m like…5 percent more resistant since reading it”

“You do realise 5 is not a high number…”

“We gotta start somewhere.” 

“Look just…use your hand for now okay?” You groan. 

“I’m not scared of a few rads, we don’t even know it’ll spread that way.” He laughs.

“You really want this, huh?” He asks, and you know he’s mocking you, but fuck do you want it.

“Yes.” You admit, and to your surprise, he points down at the ground and you smile, going down to your knees and straddling his hips. You put your mouth on the tip slowly, sucking deeply. He puts a hand on your hair and it makes you even more into it, allowing you the confidence to put more of him in your mouth. The texture is intriguing on your tongue, and the more you lick the more he whines. 

“Fuck…you’re uh, not too bad at that.” Cooper says, and you bring him out of your mouth for a quick breath. 

“That was almost a compliment.” You say, putting your mouth back down onto him even further, sucking and gagging deliciously at his cock.

“Mmm…that’s my girl.” He says, putting his hand on your head.

“Is it okay if I p…” He let’s out a moan he had been trying to fight before continuing. “Push your head down lightly?” You hum in agreement.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” He questions, pushing you down and pulling you back up.

“Fuck….fuck mmm….good girl….good….” He babbles as you taste away at where he’s the most sensitive. 

“You might want to go up soon sweetheart, I’m gonna cum.” He says, and you feel attachment issues to the taste and feel of his sensitive cock when you remove your mouth, replacing the pleasure with your hand. It only takes a few more seconds until his eyes roll back and he’s spilling all over your hand.

“Mmmnggh….” He sighs…leaning his head back against the wall. You stand back up a little shakily and he kisses you deeply. 

“How do you feel…?” He asks. You sigh.

“I haven’t turned into a giant insect yet.” You say, pretending to be disappointed. He just laughs. 

“I’ve never read those awesome tales, too nerdy.” He teases. You hit him playfully.

“Shots fired.” You laugh back. He cups your head in his hands and you can tell he’s thinking about something.

“What is it?” You question. He looks at you endearingly, questioning whether or not to respond.

“What do you think would happen if…I went inside…” He asks, lowering his voice to an embarrassed whisper. You gleam back at him, not realising this was something you could have even considered.

“We should find out.” You suggest, eagerly. He laughs at your enthusiasm. 

“You are really something else, sweetheart. Shit’s been tough out here for you I take it?” He asks, pulling your shirt off over your head. 

He practically gapes over your unmarked figure and the pretty bra you have on. Not to mention what’s in them.

“Well, it would be refreshing to meet someone who isn’t a cockhead.” You reply, and he’s still too focused to really take in your answer.

“Like what you see, Cooper?” You ask gently, and he still doesn’t avert his gaze. 

“Can I kiss them?” He asks. You laugh encouragingly. 

“You don’t need to ask me for that.” You say, unclipping your bra. As soon as his eyes made contact with your sensitive nipples which hardened in the new environment and at the site of the ghoul this obsessed over anyone, he latched his mouth to them, fiddling with the pretty, pink skin and sucking rather than the kissing he had talked about. You smile at the site of it, he looked so fucking adorable like this. 

“Got mummy issues or something Coop? Sucking away at me like this.” You tease. He goes up and kisses your mouth again. 

“You really do have a tongue on you.” He says, leaning over you, putting his elevated arms on either side of your head. 

“Gonna put you in your place…” He coos, still enjoying the site of your naked figure. He removes any of his remaining clothes very quickly and tosses them with the rest. You put a hand to his bare skin. 

“Wait…can you bring the hat back?” You ask. Visible confusion reaches the ghouls face.

“The hat….why?” You flush.

“Nevermi-“

“Does my hat make you horny?” He asks, genuinely surprised. You nod.

“Kinda.” You admit, and he doesn’t need a further explanation than that, grabbing his hat and placing it firmly on his head.

“mmm.” You say, admiring the view. 

He puts his hands on your hips, holding them firmly.

“You ready?” You could laugh at his words. The fact he thought he would even need to ask is beyond you. This is the most relaxed you have felt in years and the fact that this comfort was something you could only find while having sex with a 200 year old, mutated, violent human is a reality that is questionable at best. 

“Yes…please fuck me….” You breathe out, and he lines himself up with your glistening hole. 

“Oh I will sweetheart. I will…” He reassures, but not without sliding himself in between your folds first. You shut your eyes tightly. 

“Fuck…” You sigh, and he just laughs. 

“What? My little slut can’t wait hm? Want me inside that bad?” You would hit him for the teasing, but you had no idea what kind of repercussion that would have, so you just nod dumbly. 

“Well alright then.” He says, finally pushing the majority of himself inside you. It burns so fucking good. Your eyes roll back, you bite your bottom lip, fuck he’s impressive.

“Shh, shh, shh…” He reassures as he thrusts out of you and slowly edges back in. “You can take it.” At first, the slow pace was unbearable as his tough skin explored your warm walls, but then, he starts increasing the pace, still making sure he goes hard enough like you deserved for lying to him. He puts a hand on your neck, still fucking you deeply. 

“Mmm, wanted this so-“ He thrusts harder. “Bad. I coulda killed you for this.” He says. You nod.

“Why didn’t y- fuck….” You moan. He tuts at you mockingly. 

“You don’t ask the questions anymore.” He says, and you’re whimpering and clawing onto his textured skin within an inch of your life.

“Close…” Is the only pathetic word you manage to let out. He kisses you for so long that you let out a desperate gasp for air when he lets go. This only turns him on more of course. 

“Don’t tell me, show me, cum on my fucking cock.” You let out pornographic moan, clawing into his skin as you feel his warmth spill into you. He lets out a hot, low moan that sends your thoughts fucking spiralling. 

Still riding your high, he kisses all over you, sucking on your neck and other parts of your body again. When you’re finally finished cumming, he eases you off of his lap and you put your panties back on. He watches you fondly. 

“Did…I convince you to let me live then?” You ask, putting the remainder of your clothes back on. He smiles.

“Oh yes.” He replies mischievously. “you were very persuasive.” 

[mahiiimahiiii]

Ladies with gentle hands, turns out I was burnt TF out on bg3 fanfic. May I present my newest wip which is just pure debauchery: FAALLOUUUUT TIMEEE have some snippets.

+ alt text under the cut

“You settling in there Hun’?” Your hands drew circles onto the thighs of the reporter beneath you, her long black hair tied back into a loose messy bun which strands escaped from. She let out a low keen shifting her hips to accommodate the two things that penetrated her. The strap was settled decently, nesting against her womb, allowing the ghoul beneath her (albeit in an odd position) to embed himself in her gut.

“And you're ok piper? This is ok?” You cupped her cheek, thumbing the soft flesh.

++

“You're taking us quite well, songbird. I could be more proud.” You trilled quietly into her ear nibbling the outer shell. “Let us know when you're all tuckered out okay? You dont have to take us to completion, Kay? Y’hear? Nod or shake.”

She slowly nodded, her lips slicked with spit, her eyes barely stood open.

You leaned back admiring the view beneath you hips setting a slow and sure pace, you gathered some pooled slick at the edge of her cunt using it to lubricate her clit.

She shuddered under your touch, her thighs flexing as she fucked herself twice as silly. Her toes curled, a low panicked moan tearing it's way though her throat. Your lifted your other hand to her chest, circling and pinching the nipple “easy there sweetheart.”

[10crunchynapkins]

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

Just a little something I did for my own amusement because let’s be honest, Cait pre-benign intervention is most likely a horny, angry, depressed woman that doesn’t know how to deal with emotions other than sex, booze, and physco. I made Sole a bit of a bottom but as gender neutral as possible, so anyone can read it! It doesn’t get all the way to smut, but damn does it get close. If you want a continuation that goes into a little more detail per-se, just lmk ;)

Also this is my first real attempt at nsfw so like… don’t burn me at the stake if it’s bad. <3

GN!Sole x Cait (pre-Benign Intervention)

Cait and Sole were sitting on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. They had cleared the place out and decided to rest for a bit. The smell of dust and blood was stinging Sole’s nostrils, Super Mutants have such a strong smell of death it’s ridiculous, they thought as they pulled out their gun and inspected it. Sole looked up at Cait, watching her open a beer before looking back down at their gun. “We’re not gonna go anywhere else tonight, so you might as well get comfy.” Sole spoke into the air.

Cait hummed in acknowledgement, taking a swig of her beer. She offered a drink to Sole but they turn it down, a hit to the head they had taken earlier in the day finally catching up to them making their head spin. “Y’sure? Might make that headache of yours better.” Sole declines once again and Cait shrugs her shoulders, taking another drink.

Sole could hear the beer slosh in the bottle as Cait pulled it away from her lips, the sound of glass meeting concrete echoed as she put the bottle down. It was quiet for a moment before Cait shuffled across the floor, the utility belt Sole had got for her in Bunker Hill scraping against the floor. Sole pulled their attention from cleaning their gun to whatever Cait was doing, but when they looked up their eyes met, barely even a foot apart from each other. Cait’s eyelids were hooded and a smirk Sole knew all too well spread across her face.

“No.”

Cait’s smirk dropped into a frown and her eyebrows furrowed, making Sole blow a sharp breath of air out their nose in amusement. Sole returns her attention back to cleaning their gun and Cait sulks back to her backpack, placing her head on the back part of it. She sharply turned to her side and groaned, letting out a bratty, childlike grumble, “Fuck you.”

“I’m sure you want to.”

The Next Day, Diamond City

While Cait was getting checked over at Dr. Sun’s, Sole lay on the couch at Home Plate. It’d been ages since they had stayed here, most of their time in Diamond City either being spent at the Wright’s or in the Valentine Agency. They had promised Piper they’d stop by for a drink some time this afternoon when they passed by, so they decided to spend what little downtime they had to get comfortable and get some shut eye.

SLAM!

“Wake yer ass up Sole, I’m not drinkin’ alone.”

“You’re grown Cait, you can drink alone,” Sole grumbled, keeping their eyes closed. Cait flipped the switch on the wall and turned on the bright fluorescent lights above them. Sole’s eyebrows furrowed and they threw their forearm over their eyes, “-Just let me be for 30 minutes please.”

A sly smile came across Cait’s face, “Have a drink wit’ me, an’ I might consider it.”

Sole is quiet for a beat before groaning and falling into her bribery. They push themself off the couch and make their way over to a shelf of ‘collectibles’ they’d made over the past year. Brands of whiskey, wine, and tequila donned the wooden shelves. Almost every bottle was full and in mint condition, the exception being the whiskey bottles which they heavily favored in their pick of poison.

“And you call yerself a drinker,” Cait chuckles, slapping her hand hard on Sole’s back, kind of like a divorced dad in his late forties would. “Nothin’ compared to what I’d have polished if I were you.”

“These are far and few between Cait, and those Bobrov’s are overcharging for their drinks, so I found a happy medium.” Sole shrugs and grabs glasses off the top shelf. Cait lets out a ‘humph’ and grabs a bottle of whiskey with the faded label reading ‘Crown Royale’ before mumbling, “How you’ve managed to make drinkin’ nerdy, I’ll never know.”

They sit down on the couch, the heavy glass bottle of Crown in Cait’s hand and two glasses in Sole’s. Sole places the glasses on the table and grabs the cigar box from the lower shelf on the table. “I dunno how you smoke those things. Gives me a headache.” Sole shrugs at Cait’s comment and lights the cigar, taking a long drag from it and blowing out a cloud of smoke. “And I don’t know how you drink 24 hours if the day and still function; but hey, we all have our niches, don’t we doll?” Cait lets out a grunt at Sole’s snarky remark and pours their drinks, filling her cup only slightly more than her counterpart, which is to be expected at this point.

Cait wraps her hand around her drink, already starting to take it to the head. “Sip on it, Cait, we’ve still got errands to run.” She ignores Sole’s warning, flipping them off as she finishes her glass, letting out a sigh of relief once she’s swallowed the liquor. She puts down the glass with a hefty sounding ‘thunk’ of the wood meeting the thick glass.

“Lucky for you, I’m a functioning drunk.”

Sole scoffs and rolls their eyes, “Functioning my ass! I’ve carried you out of the Dugout every time we’ve been there.” Sole’s eyes locked onto Cait’s when she started to move closer. Cait’s breath hitting their face; it was warm and smelled of the whiskey she’d just downed.

“If you didn’t like my sweet arse, you woulda left me there to rot by now.” Closer, closer, closer. By this point, Sole could tell you the pattern of the specks of brown in her green eyes and pat connect the dots with the freckles that covered her face.

“No, I’d just have to pay for a room if I left you there. Dugout policy.” They shot back quickly. Cait snickered at Sole’s hasty response and continued to move closer.

She was playing a game Sole always lost: ‘How Far Can I Push My Flirtation Before You Pounce Me?’ She especially played this game whenever either of them were drinking. Cait knew how to push Sole’s buttons in a way that always put one of them pressed against a wall and moaning each other’s name.

“I suggest you move back before something happens.” Sole takes a drag from their cigar before turning back to face Cait. She cocked her left eyebrow, the same sly, fox-like smirk as before painted across her face.

“Oh really? Is this 'somethin’' similar to what happened in Goodneighbor? Or is it closer to the police station? Either way I’m willing to try me luck.” She touched her nose to Sole’s, her eyelids hooded yet still maintaining heated eye contact with them.

“And I’d be willin’ to bet you’d want it too.”

Sole leaned in and parted their lips, their fingers moving to lightly grip Cait’s chin and pull her face closer to theirs. Their left hand slid over the curve that separated her hips from her ribs, eliciting a soft sigh from Cait. Sole could feel her body push further into theirs, her own hands starting to slide against and up their outer thigh, gripping the waistband of Sole’s pants once she got to it. Their lips brushed against each other, but before Cait’s lips could lock with her lover’s, Sole let out the puff of smoke they had been holding in, the grayish smoke covering Cait’s face and flooding into her mouth.

Barely able to get out her words over her coughing she growled, “You’re- cough -such a bastard!” Sole falls back onto the arm of the couch and starts to crack up. They dropped their cigar onto the ashtray on the end table, saving it for later. They continued to laugh after Cait’s coughing fit was over, but she stayed uncharacteristically quiet. They expected at least a snarky remark at my laughing; but there was nothing.

Starting to sit back up, they stop their laughter and start an apology, “Cait, I didn’t mean to make you upset. I was just messin’ with you-”

Cait turned to face Sole; and before they knew what was happening, Cait’s hands, body, and lips were all over Sole. Their eyes went wide, completely taken aback from what was happening. Cait had pushed Sole’s shoulders back onto the arm of the couch roughly. It was like she couldn’t wait to be close to Sole.

Cait’s left hand made its way up Sole’s shirt and against their stomach, her calloused palm causing goosebumps to form on their skin. Her right hand was unbuckling their belt, pulling harshly on the leather before getting it off and starting on Sole’s jeans button and zipper.

Her lips were locked onto Sole’s jawline, sucking harshly on the skin, occasionally tugging at it with her front teeth; just enough to hear Sole’s breath hitch and feel their body melt further into the couch. Their head was trying to catch up with what was happening. Cait and Sole had definitely done this before, they (mostly Cait) were constantly making passes at each other, most of the time leading to quick and hot sex in semi-safe places. Didn’t matter where or when, if Cait wanted Sole, she got them. Sole didn’t mind, really; it was a nice release and Cait was a very attractive woman, but usually there was at least some type of foreplay, or hell even a warning.

Cait’s lips left their neck and met Sole’s lips, cutting them off from saying anything. She had finally got their pants unbuttoned and was feverishly pulling them down. She pulled away for a moment, Sole’s hand moving on its own and tangling in her messy, red hair in a faint attempt to pull her back down to their kiss. She let their hand pull her back in, but instead leaned down to their ear, kissing the top of it. Her warm ragged breath hitting the cold cartilage made Sole’s face heat up more than it already had. The sound of her breathing was hard and desperate; it tickled Sole’s ear, goosebumps forming on their neck.

Cait moved her legs to wrap around Sole’s waist, grinding against their hips. They could feel how hot her sex was, and it was only turning them on more than they already were. She made her way agonizingly slow up and down their neck, kissing and biting on the skin. Sole’s hand tangled in her hair and gave it a firm tug, making her moan into their skin, sending shivers down their back. Sole let their other hand find her hip, encouraging her hips to rock against their waist, loving the white hot flares of pleasure it was sending down their stomach.

Sole let a lazy smile grow on their lips and let out a soft mumble, “Guess this means you forgive me then?” Cait just let out a low chuckle that vibrated against her lips that abused Sole’s neck and continued her work. Sole shuddered before somewhat coming back to their senses. Their eyes roamed down Cait’s body, watching her hips ride back and forth in a needy, erratic motion. Her moans were getting louder the longer they went on, and when Sole started to rock in sync with her, Cait’s voice broke into a high pitched mewl that drove Sole crazy. Their voice hoarse and quiet, a needy request fell past their lips.

“Fuck, I need you, Cait.”

Sole unbuckled Cait’s pants, pulling them down to her knees and letting her kick them to the floor. Barely even spending a moment apart, they were back together, lips moving fast and hard against each other. Their tongues met and danced with one another, their saliva mixing along with the moans they traded into the others mouth. Cait had started grinding her hips down on Sole again, this time pulling up their shirt to put her thinly covered sex against their skin. Sole could feel Cait all over her. Sole could feel how those lovely lips below her waist glided across their stomach; the way they slightly parted when Cait’s hips moved forward and how their wet skin got cold from the air that hit it when Cait wasn’t atop it. Sole needed Cait, and Cait needed Sole. Bad.

Their moans and the slight squeaking of the couch was what filled the room; Cait picking up in volume as she rocked harder and faster into Sole’s hips. Sole pulled harder on Cait’s hair, which in-turn made Cait suck hard on Sole’s tongue. She would occasionally pull back while biting their lip, letting it pop back into place before diving back into the taste she yearned for. The pair’s lips were swollen and sore from the biting and tugging the other would do to entice the other.

Making her way from her lover’s neck and to their ear, her left hand found the soft skin of their neck and rested it there, her thumb rubbing back and forth on the purple-ish marks she had made. Once Cait made it back to her original position on Sole’s ear, she bit down hard and let the tip of her tongue dance on the tip of it. Her left hand started playing with the band of their underwear; her fingers dipping just low enough to glide against the crevice of their hip bone. Cait’s tongue, making sure to let her ragged, breathy moans sound in her ear. Sole was barely keeping it together at this point; the wet, lewd sounds entering their ear drums at an alarming rate, those fingers moving tantalizingly slow down their hips were causing them to short circuit, and dear god that moan of hers; everything about Cait made Sole go insane in the best way possible.

Cait gave a hard squeeze against Sole’s neck, making their breath hitch in their throat, a submissive whimper following. A wicked smile paints on Cait’s face, lustful eyes meeting Sole’s needy orbs. Another flare lit up in Sole’s stomach, this time shooting down to their legs.

Cait wanted Sole to know what she had been waiting for since last night, but was going to tease her just as she did before. “You shouldn’t have done that, lover,” she murmured, before placing a soft, almost unnoticeable kiss on the tragus of their ear, pulling down their underwear and placing wet, slow kisses on her way down their body. Cait stopped right above their navel, kissing it and making Sole’s hips arch in selfish need, “Cuz’ yer in for a long ride.”

Sole’ll just stop by Piper’s tomorrow.

Bonus:

One foot in front of the other, Sole walked to Piper’s door and raised their hand to knock on the metal, nervous smile on their face. The handle turned and the door flew open, an angry Piper standing behind it.

“I waited all afternoon for you to show up and you just-“ Piper cut herself off, her eyes widening when she saw Sole’s neck.

“Did a Yao Gaui chew on your neck last night?”

[vatnalilja]

Golden | Deacon/Female Sole Survivor or Reader | Fallout 4

The Sole Survivor has saved the Commonwealth with the help of the Minutemen and the Railroad, but with life starting to resemble something normal, is the Sole Survivor ready to move on?

Without the Institute as boogeymen, Deacon also finds himself without a grand purpose for the first time in a long while.

Lacking constant, dangerous distractions, these two best friends start to realize they may mean more to each other than they initially thought.

An explicit reader-insert story written in Twine that allows the reader to provide a name, pronouns, and appearance variables, which are then peppered through the story.

3rd Person and 2nd Person POV options available in addition to pronoun options.

Only fem body for now. Working on adding neutral bodies to all my fics.

Should look good on any device.

This is also on AO3 in a generic Sole Survivor version (she/her), 3rd Person POV Y/N version (she/her), and a 2nd Person POV version:

[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 2)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, Oral sex (f! recieving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, Wade breaks his nose so a bit of blood, Wade is an absolute pervert Logan is too, voyeurism, Logan puts his cigar out on his hand, Logan is also very emotionally stunted but we'll work on that Author's note: Holy shit guys?? This blew up in a way I totally didn't expect. I seriously thought this would just be something I uploaded and would get like five notes. You guys have been so sweet! Thank you so much! I hope you like this next installment. Things take a bit of a turn at the end and in the next chapter, but fear not besties, we will make it out of this and to a happy ending I swear! ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o

Early that Monday, I met with my supervisor. When I explained that I was becoming attached to Al’s roommates and it would most likely affect my working relationship, he just sighed. Apparently, Al had requested that I’m her only caretaker and said she would refuse anyone else. “So keep your head on straight around them. Don’t make me regret it.” 

When I walked into the apartment later that day, I knew Wade would make me fail. He instantly wrapped me in his arms, covering my face in slobbery kisses. But I was able to keep him at arm's length while I was on the clock for Al. He was allowed one kiss when I got there and nothing else. Despite his protests, he respected my boundaries. With Wade forced to behave, it allowed me to start talking to Logan more. There was some sort of tension between us that had eased. The crease between his eyebrows whenever he saw me had slowly faded. I saw him smile more often. He was surprisingly nice to be around once I got past his gruff exterior. I kept myself an open book, answering any questions he had, but he kept his life close to his chest. I didn’t expect him to spill his guts and I accepted the little crumbs he gave me. But sometimes he was broody and quiet, keeping his responses short, a distant look in his eyes. 

Nevertheless, it began to grow into something more. It started off small, little touches to the back, him forcing me to sit when I had been rearranging Al’s furniture. Then it was a gift of delicious chocolate when they came back from France and a home cooked meal when I was too busy to make it myself. I found his eyes tracing my body more often, lingering in certain places. He sometimes stood just a little too close to me while I did the dishes. He wore a shirt less often and I greedily drank in his body when I could. None of this escaped Wade’s notice. I knew he was scheming. 

It was a crisp autumn night when I climbed out on the fire escape to settle next to Logan. The cigar smoke was a comfort now, earthy and sweet. We sat in silence for a few moments. Sometimes that was enough for me, just to be in his presence, but not tonight. I shoved my chilly hands deep into the pockets of my jacket. I titled my head, watching his cheeks hollow around the cigar, the ash skittering across his forearm. He didn’t so much as flinch as the hot ash touched him. “Could I try?” I had tried smoking before but had just ended up coughing for a minute straight. He shook his head, watching a bike roll by. 

“Last thing you need is lung cancer.” I tentatively laid my head on his shoulder. He would still sometimes jerk away like I had burned him. This time, he allowed me to sink closer, our thighs pressed against each other. I could feel the heat of him sinking through my clothes.

“Mm, it smells good though.” He takes a long drag, letting the smoke linger in his lungs before letting it out in a puff. A long moment of silence passes. We’ve been slowly circling each other for weeks, all lingering touches and heavy glances. How would he react if I finally did something? Pull away? I knew he and Wade still slept together, Al complained about it enough that I couldn’t escape it. Wade and I hadn’t really gone beyond our kisses. Despite what he called himself on my phone, I didn’t want this to be a friends with benefits situation. He seemed to know that and hadn’t pushed for more. Wade made it very clear to the both of us that he has no qualms about sharing. If anything, I think he wants Logan and I to have sex more than he wants to have sex with me.

Steeling my resolve, I rest my chin on his shoulder. “Can I try a taste?” Logan glanced down at me, that crease reappearing between his eyebrows. 

“What?” His voice is dry, a touch on edge. I wanted to apologize for my flirting and run but I can’t allow myself to. My fingers trace the corner of his lip, the edge of his jaw. He turned just an inch closer to me and I’m able to take in his lined and handsome face. 

“Just one taste?” It comes out breathy, barely audible. But he hears it, he always does. There’s the faintest tick at the corner of his lips like he was going to smile. “I promise to be gentle,” now that got a smirk out of him. 

“You don’t scare me sweetheart,” his voice was a low rumble. 

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?” He pressed the still burning cigar onto his palm. The smell of burning flesh floated up to me and my nose twitched at it. “Why would you-“ but the words are cut off as his unburned palm cupped the back of my neck and dragged me closer, our lips pressing together. The kiss is chaste. My eyes fall shut, a surprised gasp leaving me. His beard scratches lightly at my face as we move our heads. But then he nudges my nose, tilting his head back. “No, please,” I whispered, chasing his lips. I felt his sigh ghost across my face before he cupped both cheeks and drew me back against his mouth. I moan against him, clutching at the front of his sweatshirt, wanting him closer, craving it. Then his lips are moving against mine. My hands slide into his hair and give the strands a tug. His mouth parts on a growl and I take the opportunity to lick my way in. I can taste the tang of whiskey, the sweetness of the cigar, a hint of mint. I want to crush myself against him, to feel his body against mine, to explore his skin. 

Just as I’m reaching under his sweatshirt, hungry for the feel of the torso that’s been haunting me, he withdraws. His breath still coasts across my face and my nose was full of the scent of him. My breath was ragged while his was perfectly even. Embarrassing. My eyes are slow to open. I found him only a few inches away, a smug expression on his handsome face.

“There,” he whispers, “got your taste.”

“Asshole.” Now he smiles, perfect teeth glinting in the streetlight. 

“Yeah, get that in your pretty head now.” His calloused fingers tapped at my temple. “I’m not someone to get attached to.” 

“Well she’s sticking around me and I’m about as much boyfriend material as sandpaper.” I jumped nearly out of my skin at the sound of Wade’s voice. Logan just smirked and circled his hands around my wrists, squeezed once to make me let go of his sweatshirt. I had half a mind to refuse, crawl into his lap and kiss every inch of skin I could find. But I let my hands fall weakly to my lap. “When you two fuck, can you record it? I’ve tried finding look-alikes on pornhub, but it’s just not the same.” I huffed, glancing down at where Wade’s head was, a spark of annoyance at him interrupting Logan and I. He’s half laying on the metal grate, his legs dangling off the couch beneath the window. 

“Ain’t gonna happen dickwad.” I can hear Logan’s lighter flicking before the smell of the cigar is back. I hoped he had just meant recording and that gruff tone wasn’t for the idea of us having sex. But he let me remain close so I took that as a good sign. 

“Don’t listen to him, baby bunny. Look, he literally tried killing me and we ended up fucking in the end.” 

“Was still trying to kill you,” Logan growls. Wade gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like Logan actually succeeded.

“Don’t lie peanut! What’s more romantic than stabbing me in the neck? That Honda Odyssey was shaking all night.” 

“I hope that’s not how you plan on being romantic with me,” I laughed, reaching down to tug at Wade’s cheek. “I can’t snap back like you two.” 

“Of course not darling,” he covered my hand in sloppy kisses, sucking a hickey on my wrist. “I’ll let you stab me in the neck while you fuck me. Would never want to hurt that sexy face.” 

“Ugh, get a room you two,” Logan snapped, nudging my knee with his. I glanced back at him but found his face reserved again. As much as I wanted to linger and force my time on Logan, I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“We should take Mary Puppins out, yeah?” Wade nodded, wiggling free of his awkward position. The decrepit dog came bounding around the corner. She wiggled her naked butt as Wade grabbed her leash. I looked back at Logan. He was determinately ignoring me, eyes locked onto the dark apartment across the way. “I’ll probably head home once that’s done.” He nodded and brought the cigar back to his lips. “Why did you put it out on your hand?”

“Didn’t want to drop it on you. It’s a nasty burn.” There was something fleeting and tender that passed over his averted face. A little smile spread across my face. 

“Thank you, you’re my hero.” I pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek, lingering just a beat too long, before I pulled away. “Goodnight Logan.” I didn’t wait for his reply, if he even intended to give one. 

Wade was happy with the progress me and Logan had made. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Which is how I found myself locked in their shared cramped bathroom, Wade’s head buried between my legs, while two of his fingers plunged inside me. My legs were shaking, my heel pressed against his shoulder to spread me open more. “Wade,” I whimpered as tears pricked my eyes. He had already drawn one orgasm from me with his rough and agile fingers before he dropped to his knees. “I c-can’t.” 

“I know you can honey bun.” His breath was hot against my tender skin and I gasped. “Just one more for me, yeah?” I nodded, hips grinding against him. “There you go. You’re close again aren’t you?” I nodded again, eyes rolling back. He kitten licked across my overly sensitive clit. I knew I was making a mess of his face but he seemed to revel in it. He left a trail of sticky kisses along my bruised and bitten thigh. “Do you hear yourself? Got that WAP.” I smacked his head before pushing him deeper to keep him from running his mouth more. He latched back onto my clit, sucking harshly, and a third finger wedged into me. My back arched and I had to bite my lip hard to stay quiet. My eyes fell closed. His spare hand moved from my hip where it had been holding me. 

The sudden sound of the door opening made me freeze. Al had laid down for a nap which was the only reason I allowed Wade to drag me in here. But instead I found Logan framed in the doorway. He had the look of a deer in headlights. “Now peanut,” Wade cooed, his head laid against my thigh. to look at the other man. He didn’t stop fingering me, the squelching sounds suddenly too loud. “Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop.” 

“I wasn’t, you two are too fucking loud.” Logan’s nostrils were flared, heaving chest straining against his thin tank top. 

“Uh huh,” Wade teased, his tongue swirling around my clit. My hand clamped over my mouth as a sob caught in my chest. “That massive tent in your pants has nothing to do with you hovering.” Logan growled, palming at himself, seemingly angry at his body. “Come on handsome, look at her.” Wade pushed my thighs farther apart, his free hand spreading me. 

“Oh god,” I mumbled, embarrassment making me cover my face. I couldn’t hear Logan’s steps, he was always so light on his feet, but I could feel him examining me. The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end. 

“Don’t hide from us gorgeous,” Wade chides. “Logan Ioves to watch orgasm faces. I can feel you fluttering, I know you're close.” When I don’t remove my hands, Wade sighs, the exhale of air making my hips jerk. “Come on, you can be brave for us.” I take a shaky breath and remove my hands, curling them around the edge of the counter. Wade smiled while Logan’s dialated eyes were glued to my pussy. I watched his Adam's apple bob and he shifted from one foot to the other. “Good job,” he kissed my clit, popping obscenely. “Now make a mess on my face.”

He dove back between my legs. With Logan there, Wade seemed determined to force me to come as hard and as fast as he could. His fingers drove into me with firm thrusts, tongue flicking cruelly at my clit. My leg was trembling so much it slipped from Wade’s shoulder, only to be caught by Logan. I struggled to focus on him, my vision blurry from prickling tears of overstimulation. His calloused palm traced up my ankle and calf before notching behind my knee. With my pussy covered by Wade’s head, Logan could only look at my face. I wanted him closer, to feel his mouth against mine again, that scrape of his beard. His eyes fastened to my neck, watching my erratic pulse. 

“Logan,” my voice tilts up at the end, hands reaching for him. Before I was able to even breathe, just as the orgasm was rushing through me, Logan’s lips crashed against mine. I clung to him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and locking both of my shuddering legs around his waist, moaning wildly into his mouth. Wade groaned as his head was pinned between our hips and the vibrations made me cry out. Logan was kissing me like a man starved, biting at my lips, grunting like he was the one coming. A combination of our spit collected at the corner of my mouth and he licked at it hungrily. His blunt nails dug into the tender skin behind my knees as he clutched me closer. Tears streaked down my cheeks as Wade kept working me into near painful overstimulation. 

Logan separated first, his forehead pressed to mine. My breath was ragged, sweat collecting along my hairline. I wanted more, to lose myself between their touches, their bodies. Wade finally stilled, his fingers still buried deep. His mouth released me and I gasped as his harsh breaths coasted across me. “You okay down there?” My voice shook. I reached down and ran my nails across his scalp. 

“Broke my nose, but it’s okay.” I bolted up straight and Logan stumbled back to avoid my head cracking against his. Blood and my slick was smeared across his face, staining his white teeth as he beamed up at me. The tip of his nose was bent at an odd angle. 

“I’m so sorry,” I cupped his face, panic rushing through me. “Are you okay?” 

“He’s fine,” Logan said. One of his big hands braced on Wade’s head before he grabbed the broken nose with two fingers. With a pop and a grunt from Wade, the nose slid back into place. “There,” he tapped Wade’s sticky face, “good as new.” 

“You’re always so nice to me,” Wade grumbled, itching the rapidly healing bump. His drenched fingers slid from me, glistening in the harsh bathroom light. Logan glanced between Wade and I, one finger twirling in the drawstring of his black sweatpants. I wish I could read his mind, be able to tell his emotions from one glance, or a touch. I wanted to understand this unsure look on his face. He almost seemed nervous to be in here now that the haze of lust had passed. He swallowed thickly before he pressed a kiss to my cheek. 

“See you tomorrow sweetheart.” My arms, which were about to latch around his neck to keep him close, hung limply in the air. I blinked as he walked away, disappearing into their dark bedroom. Wade shook his head as he stood and closed the bathroom door. 

“Did I do something?” I whispered, knowing Logan would hear me anyway. Wade’s hands went to my thighs, kneading at the tight muscles, leaving behind wet handprints with his right one. 

“No, he’s just a fucking idiot who doesn’t think he deserves happiness. I’ve been trying to ease him into this but he’s stubborn.” He turned his head, “and he’s stupid!” I heard their bedroom door snap shut. “He’s worried he’ll scare you off. Just give him time. He’s just…just had a lot happen to him.” I nodded. “Don’t take it personally, okay?” 

“Okay,” I mumbled. 

“Are you two done in there?!” A cane hit the door. “She needs to read me my mail!” 

Never more in my life have I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Only compounded by Wade wiping the door open, cocking his hip to glare at his roommate. I knew she was blind, that she had completely lost vision almost twenty years ago. But that didn’t stop me from stretching my shirt down to try and cover myself, crossing my legs. “I see Miss sleepy granny pants is awake. What do you need? A diaper change?” Al scoffed, her cane clicking along the floorboards of the hallway as she moved to the kitchen. Once she was out of our sight, Wade plucked my panties from the floor. 

“Why?” He shrugged, an evil glint in his eyes. 

“Maybe I need to get him used to your scent, like a dog.” I rolled my eyes but bit back a hiss as he dragged the coarse material through my wet folds. “Need a lot of it I think, yeah, nice and soaked.” I shoved his hand away and he tucked my panties into his pocket. Wade helped me off the counter, his hands braced on my waist to keep me steady. My jeans had been tossed carelessly to the side and I dreaded putting them back on without the barrier of my underwear. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you wear those pesky jeans, even if they do make your ass look so good I want to rip them off you every time you wear them.” He passed through the bathroom and into his and Logan’s room. I peeked around the edge of the door frame and nearly fainted at the sight. 

Logan was splayed across their dark sheets, body bare, hard cock in his hand. While the room was dim, the beams of light from the hallway were able to reach in. The shadows played over his muscles and I watched as they flexed. I wasn’t able to see his cock well, both his hand and the poor lighting limited my vision. But I was able to see a long, thick vein along the underside. My face heated at the sight of him. “Knock, asshole,” his voice was husky. The sound of him made my toes curl. If I hadn’t just had a mind melting orgasm, I would have been striding into that room, ready to do anything he wanted me to. His stomach fluttered as his strokes became more rapid. 

“Here,” Wade said as he tossed my drenched panties on Logan’s face. His hips jerked, knuckles flashing white around himself. Wade searched through a drawer before pulling something from inside. “Now be good and keep those right there for when I come back.” Logan growled, removing the fabric from his face but kept it clutched in his fist. Wade blew him a kiss and a wave before closing the door again. He offered me a pair of sweatpants. I tugged them on with a mumbled thank you, having to roll the waistband down multiple times so I wasn’t swimming in them. Wade pinched my chin and our eyes locked. “I’ll get him to warm up, promise.” I nodded. “Now go take care of Miss Migoo. Remember to text me when you get home.” 

“Of course,” I stood on my toes to kiss his healed nose. “I’m sorry about that.” 

“Don’t worry babykins. If it makes you feel better, I was near suffocation. So a busted nose was the best case scenario.” He laughed at my horrified expression. “Hey, I’d much rather die from pussy smothering than my heart being ripped out.” 

“You know, that doesn’t make me feel much better.” He smirked and drew me closer, his lips connecting with mine. I could taste the tang of me coating him. But I pulled back first. I needed to keep my head on straight for the last hour of my time with Al. “Keep it down with him, please? It’ll be too distracting.” His expression turned wicked. 

“Trust me, I have a way I’ll shut him up.” His hands coasted down my hips, grabbing a handful of my ass. “I’ll send pictures of what happens to your cute little panties once we’re done with them.” My face flushed and I pressed my hands to his chest. 

“God, you’re such a pervert.” 

“Mhm, you like it though.” 

“Will you two stop! My vision isn’t coming back anytime soon.” We reluctantly broke apart. Wade slipped into the bedroom. I was only able to catch a brief glimpse of Logan’s back arched, heels dug deep into the mattress, before my sight was cut off. I grabbed my discarded jeans and stuffed them into the tote bag I had brought with me. The last bit of my shift ended in mostly silence, minus the occasional creak of the bed frame from the guy’s bedroom. I helped Al sign a few checks, read through her mail, and took out Mary Puppins. I said my good night and left the apartment. My mind conjured up thoughts on what could be happening behind that closed door all the way home on the train. Wade, clad only in my stolen underwear, bouncing on Logan. My panties stuffed into Logan’s mouth as Wade pounds him from behind. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop my imagination from getting too wild. It wouldn’t help anything to get turned on now. 

If my mind hadn’t been so filled with dirty thoughts, I would have noticed the man watching me from the other end of the train car.  

I made it to my apartment. The key fob scanner was broken again. “Advanced security my ass,” I groaned, trudging up to my apartment. It was Friday and I felt like ordering something in. I knew I shouldn’t, the delivery fees were astronomical, but I just wanted to relax. After placing my pizza order, I grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and a shirt stolen from Logan by Wade, then gifted to me. It always felt illegal to wear it, but it was easily the softest shirt I had. His scent lingered on it and it always soothed me. I had around an hour before my pizza was going to arrive. I made a little nest for myself on the couch and tucked in to watch some mindless reality tv. 

A knock woke me up. At first I was confused, rubbing at my eyes and looking around to locate the sound. Then my mind caught up. “Oh shit,” I mumbled, scrambling to the door as the poor delivery guy knocked again. “Sorry! Sorry!” I called. I unlocked the door and swung it open. 

I froze. 

A man, with no pizza box, stood before me. “Um, can I help you?” The man had ice chips for eyes, cold and lifeless. A tattoo peaked above his collar. He took me in, tracing each inch of me. I felt my skin break out in goosebumps at the cold calculation on his face. My arms curled over my chest, hiding it from him. “Can I help you?” My tone was stronger, a small snap to it. That horrible gaze found mine again. Then he said my full name. Fear oozed through me. 

I heard something from my bedroom, a little thump, but was too terrified to look away from the man in front of me. “Get the fuck out of here,” but the words lacked conviction, a slight tremble to them. “I don’t know who you are. Leave or I’m calling the cops.” 

“Why wouldn’t you call your boyfriends?” My heart stuttered in my chest. 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” I heard the creak of my floorboard. I cast a wild glance behind me and found a wall of a man emerging from my bedroom. I went to scream but the man at my door latched his hand around my mouth. I kicked and thrashed, biting wildly. He didn’t react. There was a pinch in my neck. 

My elbows tried to find his face, but he was able to easily deflect them. The man in my apartment was searching for something. My eyes were blurring, limbs turned to lead. I saw him hold my phone up. 

Then I slumped to the ground.

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[forever-rogue]

Hi babes! So I’ve had this idea running around my brain for days.

Basically Cooper Howard and the reader knew each other pre-apocalypse (up to you wether it was romantic or platonic) but after the bombs go off, the reader makes it to a vault where she is put in a cryopod for 200 years to see that the rest of her vault is dead from asphyxiation (I definitely didn’t think of this by playing fallout 4). So she escapes and later finds Cooper (she recognises him and then realises it’s him), it’s up to you how it goes from there 🫶🏻.

Anyway, I love your work! Hope you’re doing great! 💗

AN | I love this concept. Enjoy❤️

Pairing | Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x fem!reader

Warnings | language; mentions of canon typical violence

Word Count | 3.1k

Masterlist | Main 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind, sugar,” Cooper came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before resting his chin on your shoulder. You made a small sound of content before leaning into him and turning your head to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

“I’m just…thinking,” you whispered before turning around so you were facing him. The warm evening breeze swirled around the two of you as you leaned against the porch railing, and looked down the Hollywood hills. He took your face in his hands, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

“You do that a lot,” he teased as you rolled your eyes in amusement, “too much thinking ain’t good for you.”

“Well, between the two of us, one of us has to use a brain cell once in a while,” he scoffed as he gently squeezed your cheeks before pressing a kiss to your lips. When he let go, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him a few more times, “I love you, you know?”

“I know,” he confirmed with a soft nod, “I love you too, sweetheart. You gonna tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“I suppose,” you sighed lightly, resting your hands on his chest, “do you think that...it seems silly, but do you think that it'll ever happen? The nuclear war. Or do you think it’s all just a big pissing contest?”

“I think,” he took one of your hands and brought it to his lips in order to press a kiss to your knuckles, “that you worry too much too often.”

“I know,” you agreed, “I know I do. I just can't help it sometimes. What if something happens?”

“If anything were to happen, we’d face it together and figure it out,” he promised and while you liked the idea of his sweet words, it didn’t totally alleviate your worries. He’d been trying to convince himself as much as you.  It had been a constant in his mind as well. He wasn’t as good of a liar as he believed he was.

“Rest assured Cooper Howard,” you whispered softly, “that I will always find you and be with you. No matter what life brings.”

He pressed his forehead to yours and let out a small sigh. You echoed the sound sweetly before kissing him again, “I promise, Coop.”

“I promise too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Cooper?” your brow furrowed as you looked at the tall figure standing in front of you. The first time seeing a Ghoul had almost caused you to have a heart attack; you hadn’t been expecting to see someone so…crispy. Being asleep for the last two hundred years hadn’t prepared you for half the things you’d seen in the short time since you’d escaped Vault 111. Like the radroaches - seriously? Weren’t those things bad enough normal? Nature had definitely fucked up with that one. 

Some things you could get used to easily, but other things were definitely going to take time. Two hundred years had passed and you hadn’t experienced a single thing. In some ways it felt like you’d been a lamb left to slaughter. 

After you’d gotten over your initial shock at the Ghouls, you’d realized, with a heavy heart, that they were just people too. People had suffered unfortunate circumstances but they were still just people…mostly. Realistically you’d been rather lucky when it came down to it. You had a long nap while others suffered.

But you’d recognize him anywhere; you’d memorized every part of him so many years ago. You weren’t sure if you could ever forget him. 

But this…this wasn’t who you were expecting to see. Honestly, you didn’t expect to see him ever again, but here he was…alive and breathing. Maybe.

“Cooper,” you took a step closer while he took a step back, his hand brushing along the holster at his side. You held up your hands in a meek attempt to show your innocence; it still made your heart constrict to see his response to you, “i-it’s me.”

“I’m ain’t fallin’ for that one, sweetheart,” he drawled, causing a frown to tug down the corners of your mouth, “I know when I’m hallucinating and I’m not about to go feral.”

“What are you…talking about?” you watched in confusion as he reached into his pocket and grabbed a small vial before downing it in one go. He tossed the bottle to the side, letting it clink off the side of a building, “I don't ... I don’t know what’s going on! I don’t understand anything here, but I know it’s you. I’d know you anywhere.”

He made a sound at the back of his throat as he blinked a few times, still looking at you as if he was trying to decide if he’d already gone feral or whatever it was called. You wondered if he would even possibly shoot you. 

“That’s impossible,” he said quietly as he studied you. It was like you were frozen in time - you looked exactly the same as you did two hundred years ago. It wasn’t possible for you to look like that when he looked like…a monster, “you look just like her but you can’t be her.”

“Cooper Howard,” you sighed in exasperation, running a hand through your hair. You’d always done that and he’d seen that look on your face a thousand times before, “I don’t know exactly what happened to me. I-I woke up and I was in one of those weird vaults that they used to talk about and there was no else there. A couple of skeletons and a bunch of these giant cockroaches-”

“Radroaches.”

“Radroaches,” you rolled your eyes and that almost had him let down his guard, “and I got out. I don’t know what year it is and I don’t know what’s happened. I’m just here. And I have no fucking clue what I’m doing or where I’m going or what’s even happening in the world anymore. But I found you. I know it’s you. I told you that I’d always find you.”

He allowed himself to relax as he tried to put the pieces together to see if your story made sense. The worst part of it all was that it made sense. The day the life as he’d always known it stopped, he hadn’t seen you. But he knew that you’d been at the Vault-Tec headquarters that day. It made sense. It made sense.

He hated that. Hated that you were forced to experience this strange new world, and even more that you had been all but abandoned to figure it out for yourself. But he couldn’t deny that there was a palpable feeling running through his entire being at the sight of you. Your smile was just as pretty as he remembered; he thought about it a lot. Thought about you a lot, still to this day, despite the fact that it had been literal centuries. 

He’d accepted that you were dead a long time ago. But here you were, a ghost of a life that once was. 

You let out a nervous laugh at his silence, feeling like a fool, “are you gonna say anything or am I just going to keep standing here like an idiot?”

“You should turn back around and walk to the nearest vault and pray that they take you in,” was all he managed to choke out as you felt the tears start to sting at the back of your eyes. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to possibly even say to him, “you ain’t cut out for his world. You weren’t made for it. You ain’t gonna survive up here on the surface.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you stomped your foot, an unwitting little habit that you had, “you want me to just walk away?”

“Yeah,” he pulled the brim of his hat lower, voice gruff, “I do.”

“Oh,” you scoffed, trying to hold back all that you were feeling, “and what? You’re cut out for this world?”

“Look at me,” he growled deeply, “I’m a fuckin’ monster made for this world.”

You flinched at the sound of the self hatred in his voice. He wasn’t anything like you’d remembered or expected, but he was still your Cooper. 

“You should get going, darlin’.”

You turned on your heel, ready to walk…somewhere. Anywhere other than there, left to be humiliated.

“Tell me one thing,” you turned back to face him, finding that he was still watching you intently, “what year is it?”

“2296.”

Your heart almost stopped for a moment as you tried not to panic. 

Over two hundred years since you’d last walked the world. You’d been sleeping for over two hundred years while Cooper had been suffering. You had so many questions, but more than anything your heart hurt for everything that he’d been through.

You offered him a nod before walking away, this time for real, trying to figure out what the actual fuck you were going to do.

Cooper watched you go wordlessly, eyes on you until you were but a small speck in the distance.

“Who was that?” Lucy appeared at his side along with the canine companion they'd named Dogmeat, a curious expression on her face, “did you know her?”

“It was no one,” the sharpness of his voice caught Lucy off guard and she raised her eyebrows in question, “just lost.”

“Okie dokie,” she hitched her backpack higher onto her shoulders, “we should keep going before it gets dark.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with her, finding his heart wasn’t quite in it, “get a move on kid.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was a weird world. Like really weird. There were creatures that you'd encountered that appeared to be descendants of the ones you'd known during your previous life. Roaches definitely weren't supposed to be the size of dogs. Dogs really shouldn't have been up to your shoulders. And that thing that you'd encountered that was maybe a fish? Wild.

It was all so much to get used to and it felt like you were a child all over again. You had met a kind woman that had taken you into her diner (or whatever a diner was these days) and helped to get you back on your feet. The first order of business? Getting rid of the vault suit; not'd noticed an immediate shift in how people treated you once the suit was gone. 

The one thing that hadn't changed? Men. Men continued to the worst, leering shamelessly after you. Looks like not even radiation can evolve that out of men.  

You still had not clue what you were going to do with your life or anything really, but at least now you had a safe space to learn to adapt and overcome. Now you just had about two hundred years of history to catch up on. Learning about places called the New California Republic and New Vegas definitely told you that something big had happened.

Everything else, you hoped, would fall into place over time. You did, however, have your suspicions that Vault-Tec were nothing but a bunch of liars confirmed. There was that at least. And you'd learned what a Ghoul was - what Cooper was. It didn't sound like it had been a fun reality for him.

At least if you were going to start aging naturally, you wouldn’t have to suffer in this hell forever.

You were helping around the diner one afternoon when the doors swung open to reveal Cooper, along with a young woman and a dog. Funny, you thought to yourself, Cooper had always adored dogs.

The rag dropped from your hand as blinked wordlessly at them. Neither you nor Cooper said anything, silence thick and heavy between the two of you.

“Do you have any pie?” The young woman asked, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips as she looked around, “and maybe some water?”

“S-sure,” you stammered nervously pointing at the table towards the back, “I'll get that pie.”

And just like that, Cooper was back in your life.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Without Cooper, you weren't quite sure what to do. Honestly, you had been sure what you'd do once you left the vault along, but you figured when you found him that things would fall into place…or make a little more sense anyway. But as you'd made your way through the skeletons that littered the vault, you weren't entirely convinced that this wasn't some sort of fever dream.

And Cooper had turned his back on you.

Only to come back to rescue you.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice dropping softly, almost like he was letting down his guard, “how did you end up in one of those pods?”

“I don't know,” you admitted, wiping your hands on your knees as you looked at him, “I-I remember bits and pieces but not the whole thing.”

He made a small sound of acknowledgment but didn’t say much else. You’d been wracking your brain for weeks now - ever since you’d escaped the vault - about what exactly happened before you took a centuries long nap.

“The last thing I really remember was speaking with that Maclean kid, the one that had recently started working at Vault-Tec. We got into an argument about something and he shoved me around and then…I think he hit me. The next thing I can remember is waking up.”

“Life is funny, ain’t it,” he pinched his brow before looking at you with a pained expression, “Hank Maclean is still alive. The girl I’ve been traveling with…she’s his kid. I think everyone finally found just what kind of a person he is. And it ain’t a good one.”

“He’s still alive,” you breathed out heavily, trying to decide if you were angry with him or…in a twisted way, thankful. You supposed the last two hundred years could have been a lot worse than just sleeping through them. But then again, if you’d been awake and aging, you’d have been long dead by now, “this is all so…weird.”

Silence fell over the two of you for a few bit, as you started at the roaring fire. It was dangerous, or so you’d been told by almost everyone you’d encountered. But somehow with Cooper by yourself, you didn’t feel scared or nervous. 

“I looked for you,” he said after a short while as your attention snapped to him, “for a long time. Decades.” 

“Really?” your voice cracked on the simple question as he nodded.

“After a while, I realized you were probably dead,” your heart twisted at that, “it was the only logical answer. Unless you’d ended up like me and I would never wish that on you.”

“What happened, Cooper?” you asked softly. You wanted to know but you also didn’t want to push him either. You still had so many questions about this strange new world, “you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Your curiosity was one of the things I always loved about you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, almost sounding just as you remembered, “to put it simply, radiation. I got a little bit too much of that radiation and then I became like one of them radroaches, adapting and surviving.”

“Radiation,” you repeated softly, “fuck me. Am I going to-”

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured you, “radiation levels are livable now.”

“Oh,” you swallowed thickly as you gave him a nod, “that’s good…I think.”

“You don’t deserve to have to live in such a world,” he caught your eye and looked at you intently, “in a way I wished you’d never have had to experience it. It would have been easier if you’d just…died that day they dropped the bombs. But in a selfish way, I’m glad you’re here, sweetheart. Still the prettiest face I’ve ever seen.”

You snorted in amusement as your face warmed up, “still the biggest flirt I’ve ever met Cooper Howard. In a selfish way, I’m glad you’re here too.”

“You’re telling me that you’re happy to see his ugly old face?” he asked, his voice turning gruff and bitter, “darlin’, you could be looking at a gulper and it’d be a prettier sight.”

“What’s a gulper?” your mind reeled with possibilities of what in the actual hell a gulper was. 

“I…nevermind,” you didn’t need to know about those horrors just yet, “there’s a lot of things that are prettier than I am.”

“Agree to disagree,” you insisted with a soft laugh, “I’m glad you’re here, you know. Even if it sucks and this whole world sucks. I’m glad you’re still here. Selfish or not.”

You stood up and brushed yourself off before walking over to him and plopping onto the ground next to him so you were facing him. You reached for his hand and took it in yours, giving it a squeeze so tender that it almost made him cry. He never thought he’d get to feel such a touch ever again.

“So,” you whispered softly, “what’s next?”

“You’re not ready to run for the hills and hide?” he joked, half serious.

“Nope,” you promised, “besides, what the fuck am I going to do here by myself? I know nothing about anything anymore.”

“Want to help me and the kind find Hank Maclean?” he asked as your eyebrows raised up, “it’s a long story.”

“I’m in,” you promised, “but there’s one thing I want to do first.”

“And what’s that, sugar?”

“This,” you leaned in and took his face in your hands, before gently leaning and kissing him. When you pulled away he looked at you in surprise, “that’s all.”

“C’mere,” he put his hands on your hips and hauled you onto his lap, “you should know better than to start something you can’t finish.”

“Oh, I fully intended to finish,” you grinned, “I’ve missed you, Coop.”

“I’ve missed you every day for a long time,” he sighed, “I’m not letting you go again.”

“Good.”

[bisexualiteaa]

Domestic Serenity

Soft Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Fem reader

Synopsis: You and Cooper return to your settlement you set up, it being the closest thing you could call a home on those harsh days in the sun and from the rad storms. After too many close run it’s lately out in the wastelands, Cooper comes home from the market to appreciate the closest thing you guys have to a post apocalyptic little slice of domestic life and show you how much he cares about you.

CW: Smut MDNI! Slight OOC Cooper, slight deviance from the show, oral (fem receiving) dirty talk, established relationship, unprotected sex, p in v, irradiated cream pie, p0rn w/o plot, reader has a southern accent, Cooper being a perv, Cooper makes a few crews jokes and one liners to reader

AN: so I’m relatively new to Fallout lore and such, but the hubby and I finished the Fallout TV series a week or so ago and like most others, Cooper Howard’s got me in a grip tighter than his lasso. 😮‍💨 Please be gentle, I pulled a little from Fallout 4 and the TV series in a meshing that I thought felt right. This is briefly proofread but I’m still new to all things Fallout but I hope I did our cowboy justice and I hope y’all enjoy!

You were doing laundry for the day in your house, or better yet, what you could call a house these days, at the little settlement you set up for you and Cooper to live, and some houses for a good few other people you’d met along the way to make it into a nice small town. There was plenty of food to go around from the growing gardens, fresh, clean water, some electricity to keep the gates protected from raiders and things of the like, but also for some street lights at night. It was like a nice little slice of life before the war, or the closest you could get to it anymore anyway, it was peaceful.

It was a particularly sweltering hot day outside, hotter than usual as the sun beat down on the sand, and your skin when you’d step foot outside for even just a few minutes. “Shew, it’s hotter than hell outside” you exclaim, feeling the rush of the hot air that funneled in when Cooper set foot through the door. You were thankful to have chosen a pair of shorts and a tank top to wear out of your small selection of other clothes when you woke up this morning. “Don’t half mind it. Means I get to watch you pad around the house in them lil’ shorts you got on” Cooper said as he shut the door finally, then dropped his saddlebag and things off at his feet, having just come back from a run to the market to grab the essentials like RadAway, Rad-X, Stimpacks and some other chems and things here and there to keep handy for when you both set back out on your travels. You heard his boots clomp heavily against the floor as he drug himself inside, his eyes traveling your figure as you were washing some clothes in a wash bin, watching you bend over and your ass shake a little when you would scrub hard enough at some stains. He gave a crude whistle at the sight, one you were used to him using as a form of expressing that he liked something, making a small grin stretch to your lips. “Somethin’ tells me you’d make one hell of a sexy housewife” he said, coming behind you and tapping your ass playfully to get you to stand back up. You gave a chuckle before swatting at his hands as you turned to face him, making him only grin wider. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Although I’d miss wanderin’ the desert with you and all the shit we get up to” you said with a grin, putting the rag you had in hand over your shoulder as he stepped closer. “Like annoyin’ the piss outta me and stealin’ my kills?” He asked playfully, putting his hands gently on your hips to pull you into a kiss. You giggled in response as you put your hands against his chest to keep him close. “You love watchin’ me kill things with that big ol’ gun’a mine” you said in between kisses, making him hum in agreement with you, or maybe it was a groan at the thought because you were right, the sexiest thing to him was seeing you with a gun in hand, cocking it back after taking down raiders, roaches, scorpions, or whatever your target may be, with the confidence you do. He loved the excited “oh yeah!” Or “booyah!” You’d say to yourself afterwards too in celebration before you’d both rummage through whatever it was you downed. “Oh I absolutely do. Like it even better when it ain’t my bounties you’re droppin’ there, lil’ missy” he quipped, making you giggle again as he tapped your hip with his gloved hand before parting from you to let you get back at what you were doing. Also to watch you bend over some more, can’t restrain a dog once it’s loose. “Just be a quicker shot honey bun, then it won’t be a problem!” You joked, twirling the rag that was over your shoulders in your hands to wind it tight before cracking it against his ass, making him turn his head to look at you from over his shoulder all slow and intimidating like. “Oh it’s like that now, is it?” He asked, turning towards you some more, making you flash him a wide, deviant smile, knowing exactly what you did and that you’d likely be paying the consequences for it here in a few seconds. “Maybe it is! Whatchya gon’ do ‘bout it?” You asked with a widening grin the closer he got.

Before he gave you an answer, he picked you up, placing you over his shoulder with ease. You yelped playfully as he did, still sometimes surprised by the strength he carried before laughing as you started to wiggle in his grasp. “Fix that lil attitude of yours ya got goin’ on” he said, tapping his hand against your ass again, making you only laugh more as he started to walk out of the kitchen away from your chores. “Cooper! I was in the middle of somethin’ there, put me down!” You ordered through your relentless giggles as he continued to walk, almost slow at this point to torment you. “No can do sweetheart. Not ‘til you’ve nicened up” he said as he brought you to the bedroom and threw you on the bed but not too harshly. Just enough to see you bounce and hear you laugh. “I was in the middle of laundry! Your shirts’ll get all starchy an’ stiff if I don’t do it a certain way” you said, sitting up some and getting ready to get up but he sat down with you, which stopped you. He gave you a grin as he looked at the way your thighs were squeezed by the legs of your shorts, and how short they were sitting on you. “My shirts ain’t the only thing gettin’ stiff, I can tell ya that much” he said, making you swat at him once more as he gave a raspy laugh at your blush and facial expression in reaction. “You fiend. You ever thinkin’ with that head on your shoulders? Or just the one in your pants?” You asked with a smirk, knowing all too well the answer to that question, not that you minded one bit either. “I think we both know they’re about the same, I ain’t ever seen you complain about it” he said, making you chuckle as he leaned in and pulled you into another soft, loving kiss that you knew was going to lead to something much more. “Not one bit” you replied between kisses as his hands rested on your hips once more, giving you a nice squeeze while also doing what he could to keep you as close as he could get. He always had his hands on you in some way, sometimes in a suggestive way, but most times in a protective manner. He had to show the others and everyone out there in the commonwealth that no one fucks with, or gets between him and his girl. “C’mon take a break, laundry can wait. I ain’t seen you all day” he said, and he always did have a way with words that made you weak. “Only if ya promise me you won’t get mad if your shirts get stiff” you said, making him laugh. “I don’t give two shits about how them shirts feel, I just need you” he replied, making you smile as that happy twinkle came to your eyes, and gosh how they lit up every time you saw him. “Then I suppose the laundry can wait” you said with a soft giggle as he started to climb over top of you as you laid back against the bed again. Your hair fanned out around you against the pillows like a halo, your eyes half lidded as you looked up at him expectantly with those siren eyes he swore turned his mind into a frenzy. You smiled up at him with those pretty white teeth before he kissed you, feeling his hands wander your frame over your tank top and moving downward as your arms looped around him to pull him closer.

Your one hand removed his large hat, placing it off to the side as the kiss grew more heated, your tongues tangling in a fight for dominance with one another, a battle which he won. You moaned into it as one of his hands slipped beneath your tank top, surprisingly free of his gloves as he groped one of your breasts, tweaking your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Let’s get this off’a you” he said, bringing your tank top up and over your head then tossing it to the side to be forgotten until later, trailing his kisses down your neck to your chest that now laid bare and exposed to the air. You were always a sight to behold to him, no matter how many times you had sex, or how many times he’d just seen you naked or even half naked, he considered himself lucky that you chose him. When he looked at you, everything felt right in the world again, even out in desolate wasteland. When you looked at him, you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky, like he was your whole world, and he was. “My beautiful lady” he complimented before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, working his tongue and thin cracked lips along it as he toyed with the other in his fingers, being sure to give them both the love they deserved. You moaned as he did, your back keening up off the mattress some at his touch. It had been a while since the last time you two had a chance to have sex, so needless to say you were more than receptive to his touches. You shut your eyes as your head fell back against the pillow, soft moans leaving your throat as he switched treatments, leaving behind nice little hickeys as a reminder of who you belonged to. You bit your lip and casted your gaze down onto him as you felt his lips begin to trail down your chest to your stomach, before he was resting between your legs. “Much as I like these, don’t think you’ll be needin’ ‘em right now” he said, unbuttoning and sliding his fingers into the waistband of your shorts before tugging them down and off from you, tossing them aside as haphazardly as he did with your top. His eyes delighted him when he saw you lying before him in lace, a commodity that’s damn hard to come by these days, making him whistle before making another sound of satisfaction at the sight. “And you were just gonna let this stay hidden? You’re like unwrappin’ a present” he said, making you giggle as he was careful with them as he slid them off you, but tossed them aside all the same. “You’re enough to make a man like me go feral darlin’, ya know that?” He said, making you chuckle once more. “Gettin’ you t’ act a fool is my favorite pass time” you replied, making him chuckle before he placed one of your legs over his shoulder, laying teasing butterfly kisses to your inner thigh that trailed slowly down to your aching cunt.

“Thought I’d pick up some RadAway while I was down at the market today for ya, that way I can give ya what you’ve been wantin’” he said as he sheathed himself fully inside, giving you a moment to breathe and accommodate to his size and the intrusion. You gave a happy little gasp that made him give a dark chuckle in response. “How romantic” you said teasingly but you were truly warmed by it, a bright smile on your face that joined with the blush that came from him already prodding at the apex of your cervix. “Anythin’ for you sweetheart. Besides, be a real shame if this sweet ass a yours looked like mine because of my doin’” he said, making you laugh. “Oh hush you, you’re mighty fine in my book” you said, pulling him into a soft sweet kiss. “For a cowpoke anyway” you added to tease, earning a sharp snap of his hips against yours in retaliation, making a loud moan leave your lips. “Wanna try that again, darlin’?” He asked, making you blush a bit brighter. “Was just kiddin’, shit. But if that’s what I gotta do t’ get ya t’ be rough with me, might just have to get on all them nerves of yours” you responded, making him smirk down at you, god he loved that attitude and humor you always about you, it’s one of the things that kept him going through all this. “If you want rough, all ya gotta do is ask. Fair warning, I don’t play nice when I do” he said, snapping his hips once more to hit deep inside of you, making your back arch up off the mattress once more. “Fuck, don’t want you to play nice. Want you t’ fuck me like you hate me” you said, making him chuckle as he quickly pulled out, making you whine at the loss of contact before you were abruptly rolled onto your stomach and his hand reached into your hair to pull your body into a harsh arch. “That dirty mind and mouth a yours’ll be both our undoin’ sweet cheeks” he said, bullying his way back into your pussy, starting a harsh pace that had your eyes rolling back as his hips slapped against your ass harshly. “You and I both know ya wouldn’t want me any other way” you quipped, making him chuckle as he yanked your hair to pull you back some more, earning a loud moan from you. “Look mighty tasty like this, I could just eat you alive” he said in a low growl, his lips and teeth sinking to your shoulder, leaving a bruise and teeth marks behind, marking and claiming you as his. He felt the way your walls squeezed around him as you whimpered pathetically with his bite, and the way you grew wetter as he did. “Fuck…Cooper” you moaned, making him chuckle as his hands gripped your hips, watching as you moved your hips back and met his thrusts hungrily. “Sure is a pretty sight, seein’ you split open on this cock. Hungry little thing, swallowin’ me the way you do. Tell me who this pretty pussy belongs to” he said, making you grin proudly at his praise. “‘s all yours baby, only for you” you replied as you felt the bed start to rock back and forth and heard it creaking beneath your bodies as he found that spot inside you liked so much. For as hot as it was outside, you two fucked like it was the only way to keep warm. “Damn straight. Fuck…” he groaned, enjoying the sight of your ass jiggling each time his cock entered then reentered you and the sounds you made when it would happen. “So close…please, don’t stop” you begged, knowing full and well he never had any intentions to, but the words flew from your mouth as if they were the only thing you knew to say. You felt one of his hands leave your hip, coming to reach and rub tight circles against your clit, making that coil in the pit of your stomach wind tighter. “Cum for me baby” he said, working you closer and closer to your peak that was just around the corner, all you needed was one last push and he knew it, he could feel it with the way your walls hugged him.

He bit down on your shoulder once more, making you moan as you toppled over the edge. Your walls clenched around him tightly, earning a groan from him as your cunt spasmed and milked him for everything he could give you. Your mouth laid open in a wide O shape as your back arched, keeping him deep inside of you as his release creeped up on him from yours. He let out a deep, feral growl as he came inside of you with his teeth sunk into your perfect skin, missing the feeling of what it was like to empty himself into someone again. You hummed contentedly as you felt him fill you up, a pleasant tingle running through you as he laved over the teeth marks with his tongue. “You alright, sugar? Wasn’t too rough with ya, was I?” He asked by your ear, littering your skin with kisses as one of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your side. You gave a giggle. “You always act like you’re gonna break me” you replied, making him chuckle. “I just might if I ain’t careful, certainly ain’t known for being a softy for others sweetheart” he said, making you chuckle as he pulled out of you slowly, trying his best not to hurt or overstimulate you both, allowing you to turn around and look at him. “Maybe I’d like it if ya did, but no you didn’t go rough on me. Was perfect, as always” you responded flirtatiously but with a sweet smile, making him chuckle dryly once more. “Good, I’ll always take good care of my girl” he replied, leaning down to kiss you softly before grabbing a rag and wetting it to help clean you up. As he came back and spread your legs, he watched his seed leak from you, moving down your thighs. He gave a crude whistle. “Now that’s a sight” he said with a mischievous grin, making you roll your eyes with an entertained smile as he helped clean you up, laying a kiss to your inner thigh. “At least give me a little recovery time, I ain’t got that stamina you got yet” you said, making him laugh as he disposed of the rag and climbed back into bed with you. “And don’t worry, I had my Rad-X for the day. Though I gotta say, that’s a feeling that’s totally worth a little radiation sickness if ya ask me” you said, both of you giving a chuckle as you kissed him softly once more, your hand resting on his chest as you did. “Well, just t’ be safe, I got RadAway. Some for me to keep me from turnin’ feral and rippin’ you to pieces, and some for you for those nights you crave that sweet feelin’” he said, handing you the IV bag of yellow liquid from off the bedside table. “What would I ever do without you?” You asked, hooking it up to the rack and putting the IV in to allow it to take effect. “A whole lotta nothin’ good I imagine. Probably spend a whole lotta nights hoping them dainty little fingers a yours can achieve anything close t’ what I give ya every night” he teased with a grin, making you roll your eyes with a laugh but he wasn’t wrong.

His hand came to yours, pulling it to where your fingers would intertwine with his, something he always did when you used needles and medicines on yourself as a gesture of comfort. He pulled his inhaler and a vile of RadAway from his duster that lay on the floor as you let the bag drip slowly. He took a hit off of his inhaler, giving a contended sigh as he leaned back against the pillows and let it work its way into his system. He looked over to see you, admiring him like he hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. He gave you a sweet smile, one pulled deep from his heart as you leaned your head against his shoulder. One that said the three words he’d been struggling to try and tell you after all this time being together, a loving look in his usually dark, haunting gaze. “I love you” he said, making you look up at him in astonishment that he’d finally come around to saying it. You smiled at him, that same sweet smile he saw the first time he ever sent a flirty word your way, the same smile he’d come to absolutely adore seeing stretch to your cute face every time you saw him. “I love you too, Coop” you replied back, easing the tightness in his chest as he awaited your response. He gave you a relieved smile as he kissed your head, slinging his arm around you to pull you into his side and hold you close.

The moment was sweet, quiet save for the sounds of your joined breathing and heartbeats but peacefully so. You both stayed like that for a good while, the bag of RadAway already run down to nearly empty. That peace was disturbed when you realized you still had some chores on your list left to do for the day. “Shit, I still got laundry and shit to do” you said, sighing as you realized it and tipped your head back with a groan, removing your IV and bandaging up your arm, getting ready to get up and go back to it. “Hold it there, little lady” Cooper said, getting up and putting his briefs and pants back on. “I gotchya. You rest that pretty head a yours while I take care of it, ‘kay? Let that stuff work its way in ya” He said, making you look up at him. “You ain’t gotta do that Coop…” you replied, making him shake his head at you. “Shh, shh, shh. Don’t you move a muscle there, pretty lady. I got it” he urged, kissing your head once more before placing his hat back on his head, grabbing his shirt from the floor and throwing his duster over his shoulder. “‘s a good look on you” you said with a half lidded smile, your eyes raking his form as he turned and looked at you, shooting a grin your way. “And that is a good look on you” he replied, tipping his head to gesture at you who still laid in bed naked, hair slightly messy, a few bite marks and hickeys littering your otherwise mostly unblemished skin. You gave a grin and a giggle as he stood there, a calculated look in his eyes as he looked you over, resting himself by his arm along the doorframe. “I think I can live without a couple extra shirts” he said, tossing his shirt across the room without a care for where it landed, dropping his duster along the chair in the room. “What are you…Cooper!” You yelped playfully as he climbed back onto the bed, a hungry look in his eyes as he climbed over top of you. “Chores can wait a day, I need you sugar” he said, leaning down and slotting his lips against yours, pulling you into a soft, sweet kiss. “I need this” he added genuinely, his tone soft and loving as he pressed his forehead to yours while he held one of your hands in his. “Been enough days out in that shit hole wasteland that got me scared I was gonna lose you, and that’s somethin’ I just can’t have. So I wanna enjoy this, this little slice of paradise we got right now, with you” he said between soft, loving kisses, making you smile as you gave in and kissed him back. Laundry could wait for another day, he was right, times like these were hard to come by. Needless to say, no other chores got done that day, but it was certainly a night neither of you would ever forget.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Hard Feelings

Hancock x Fem! Sole Survivor / Reader Insert

(AO3)

Summary: You are the General of the Minutemen. Hancock is your companion when out on missions. It's all fun and games until there are hard feelings at play, the ghoul thinking that one day you just might leave him.

Warnings: NSFW / 18+ for PiV sex, public sex (sort of), MAKEUP sex, switching, praise kink, heavy petting and kissing, fingering, biting, angst, a small domestic dispute, and negative thoughts and feelings associated with oneself (Hancock). In this fic, Hancock displays golden retriever boyfriend energy, and he is more submissive. He also experiences low self-worth, and feelings of inadequacy, which leads to doubt. At some point, he has a panic attack.

Notes: Another fanfic that is completely self-indulgent. I was inspired when I took Hancock to the Starlight Drive-In for the Minutemen mission. We were briefly separated when I (sole) climbed onto the roof of the movie screen. Hancock ran around down below in a panic, thus this idea blossomed; I mention it in this post. I stole Teeth's nickname for Hancock: Hanni. ;D )

Word count: 4.7k+

A gentle peal of thunder rocked the night, just hours from daybreak, the eerie green glow of your pre-war Pip-boy casting its luminescence across the present object of your interest: a sullied movie poster. It was curling at its edges, the faded face of a starlet frozen in time with her mouth agape having snatched your attention, for better or worse, as this potential settlement had yet to be explored—there was no telling what lurked out there among the shadows.

Rita Jean Scarlett was staring into the eyes of not man, but insect, The Barfly calling out to you from a bygone era. It was an Old World tale of weird science gone wrong, filled with hubris and lessons learned all too late. Not too far off from the reality of things, you mused, though meant as fiction, actor Chip Weathers having adorned the costume of the “ghastly” monster for his starring role. 

The creature had bulbous eyes and sticky clawed feet, yet wore a suit and hat. Once considered the stuff of nightmares, now things like this seemed to you like child’s play. You regularly joined in the company of ghouls; robots; synthetic humans, and even super mutants. You faced adversaries on the daily that would make prey animals of yesteryear look like teddy bears—an unnerving thought, but it caused you to smile regardless. 

“What are you grinnin’ about?” a curious voice asked, the creak of worn red leather signaling his closeness; two thin arms encircled you, pitted hands smoothing over skintight, extruded rubber, shiny as the ghoul’s black eyes.

“Just about how things that used to be science fiction are now science fact,” you offered vaguely, casting a glance downward to the sight of yourself being molested, Hancock groping your tit—like any typical man—before it maneuvered lower, gliding over your belly to dip between your thighs.

“Hancock!” you breathed, your pulse quickening, loins already beginning to throb as blemished fingers stroked the line of your vault suit, teasing you at its seam. 

“Hmm?” he hummed, ignoring the tone in which he had been addressed. He asked another question, even as he continued to fondle you sans mercy.  

“Things like me?” 

Hancock was unhurried, enjoying the sleek texture of the glossy fabric against the underside of his thumb. He was positive he was making you wet, wondering how long you might last before you were begging him to fuck you, just like a few hours previous.

However, his query caught you off guard, your mind preoccupied as your palm came to rest over John’s explorative hand, holding it firm, the ghoul taking liberty with your breasts again, cupping one’s shape to give it a squeeze.

“Things that shouldn’t exist? Like that monster up there who thinks he’s human,” he growled silkily, finely wrinkled digits pinching your pebbled nipple through that damnable suit that left nothing to the imagination, John’s prick hardening against the back of your leg.

“You might say that,” you replied without thinking, thoughts clouded with pleasure that would all too suddenly end, so careless was your answer that the ghoul recoiled.

“Really,” John flatly returned, as if for some reason not at all surprised, his warm, gentle touch leaving you longing, confused as to why he was beginning to walk away.

You turned from the ticket booth, staring after your lover as he kicked a loose rock across asphalt; it bounced, ricocheting off an overturned cigarette machine. Hancock pretended to be engrossed in the diner just up ahead, a part of the Starlight Drive-In theater, you both having been warned about raiders before traveling here.

“Hancock.” You followed closely behind; he did not pay you any mind, as if he had not heard you, acting about as mature as a spoiled child who was giving you the dreaded silent treatment.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you claimed, though it was the truth. To be asked that question to begin with seemed like he was fishing for flattery, but who were you to deny the charismatic Mayor of Goodneighbor a harmless stroke to his ego, especially when he meant so much to you.

“Is that where the “might” part comes in?” he snapped, his tone irritated; it was becoming obvious that he had not expected you to agree with him on such matters, the conversation quickly devolving. 

“Is this our first fight? Are we fighting?” you asked, Hancock’s beady eyes narrowing beneath his hairless brow at the flippant way you were brushing off his feelings, or so he thought. 

“Look, if you don’t want to travel with a ghoul, why didn’t you just say so— got better things I could be doing,” he groused, namely chems with his name on them. 

“Is that so? Well, far be it from me to stop you from doing those better things,” you returned, not understanding why he couldn’t just forgive you for something said in passing.

“Always a smart ass,” he complained, as if Hancock himself wasn’t guilty of using his fair share of sarcasm.

Had you not been so heated, you may have remembered just how self-conscious the sociable, charming mayor actually was. His confidence was partially a façade, though he wasn’t one to normally bring down a mood with his own insecurities. Being the introspective sort meant that Hancock wasn’t afraid to get to the heart of things, even at the cost of his own self-esteem. 

John had even allowed you in, being vulnerable by sharing details of his sorrowful past; it was no secret the ending had been bittersweet, if not unhappy. His own appearance had sickened him; he found it hard to believe a gal like you wanted anything to do with him, much less desire to share a bed together, especially since he wasn’t exactly a looker by human standards.

Perhaps you had failed to give him reassurance when it was needed, though temporarily blinded by your temper. Instead of trying to clear things up, you made it worse. 

“You’d be one to know,” you baited.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hancock shot back, droplets of rain beginning to descend toward the ground.

“You know what? Go over there, check that place out.” You gruffly dismissed him, pointing toward the diner. “I think we both need some time to cool off,” you added, voice sounding less than amicable toward the man whose forehead lurched, as if he had been punched in the gut. 

“Yeah? Fine.” John’s feelings were hurt more by this simple demand than anything you had said thus far, Hancock behaving like a scolded puppy whose owner had treated it unfairly.

You shook your head as you watched him march away, Hancock’s red frock coat glistening thanks to a now steady sprinkle. You sighed, turning toward a slew of rusting, run-down autos, spying a shed somewhere in the distance—you hoped it had a crafting station, as your orders from Preston Garvey were clear.

---

No raiders were present, only mole rats and radroaches. Hancock had kept his distance at your request, though you weren’t so oblivious that you failed to notice the way he routinely hovered only a stone’s throw away. The ghoul was caught basking in your shadow more than once, stealing glimpses, a frown pulling down the edges of his thin-lipped mouth. Yet he would move along the moment you laid your eyes on him, as if embarrassed, not wishing to be the victim of your ire.  

Overall, he seemed to be taking things about as well as you had hoped, though he had technically been the one to start it. You weren’t a mind reader, either, refusing to try and decipher his body language despite the moping, waiting for a time you felt more at ease.

Although, it undeniably tugged at your heartstrings—knowing he was suffering in some capacity—but you kept a clear head, focusing on the task at hand—building a radio relay tower from spare parts in order to reach out to others, reclaiming the theater in the name of the Minutemen with the sole purpose of making the Commonwealth a better place, one settlement at a time.

It was when another accursed mole rat burst forth from its earthy den that you yelped in surprise, drawing your double-action revolver almost a moment too late. With teeth nipping at your toes, you shot the beast, Hancock having dashed to your aid.

You glanced back at him, rattled; he seemed satisfied knowing you weren’t hurt, though his gaze lingered, as if there was something on the tip of his tongue. 

After a moment, he asked, “Can we talk?”

“Not right now.” You shook yourself off, taking a deep breath to assist in the slowing of your pulse. You returned to your workstation, deciding it wasn’t appropriate to address any more personal issues at this juncture—you both had a job to do.

“Sure, got it,” Hancock said grouchily, the ghoul wandering off to continue sifting through various piles of refuse for any usable materials to add to your haul, though inside it felt as if gnarled fingers were cinching tightly around his heart. Anxiety was welling within him, as not being on good terms with you did not sit right; beneath the surface, he was a troubled bundle of nerves, though he did not want to rush you by any means.

If only you knew about the disturbing thoughts that were crawling up John’s brainpan, slithering through the cracks to possess his mental faculties, feeding them fear; unsurety, outwardly expressed by way of a sour attitude. So involved was he with the many voices collecting in his head, that he failed to notice when you had finished installing the relay tower, your instincts guiding you to the Starlight Drive-in’s once magnificent three-story screen.

You took the stairs, moving past a shoddy door to climb to the top. The sun was newly risen, a fine mist hanging over the expansive parking lot, rays of light from your planet’s star casting a beautiful glow along remnants of grass, present in patches, though the area was plagued by the contamination of rads—another item on your to-do list. 

You were enjoying the view when you observed Hancock poking around the last place he’d seen you, determining you were in a better mood and willing to talk. You had planned to call out to him when you saw him run the other way, circling the diner, and then the first place you had gathered—the ticket booth where you had exchanged unpleasantries. 

Confused, you continued your study of his erratic behavior, wondering if there was some unknown enemy skulking about, yet Hancock had no weapon drawn, his gait all at once frantic and without rhyme or reason, the ghoul seeming to have no particular destination in mind. 

“Hancock?” you asked yourself quietly, baffled at how John was going insofar as to peek inside doorless cars, or even under them, kicking into a full-fledge run as he made his way toward your perch. He wasn’t paying heed to anything that wasn’t at ground-level, failing to notice you up high above.

“Han—” you were enthralled, the ghoul almost as fast as a feral, which was a less than comforting thought, watching as John ran a lap around the base of the screen. 

You followed, pushing off the railing to walk the few short steps to the opposite side, catching him turn the corner as he looped back around. It wasn’t until you heard his panicked breathing and the terrified whisper of your name that you completely understood, gut clenching as Hancock came to a disconcerting stop. 

The poor thing looked to be having a meltdown, head darting to the left and right, though the only thing visible to you was the top of his tricorn hat. He began to pace, first one direction, and then another, not keeping to east or west, but zigzagging as if he couldn’t decide where to go, or what to do. 

He called your name again, this time louder, sounding more distressed. You could not tear your eyes away as Hancock fell to his knees, fingers digging into soft dirt as the ghoul appeared to be in the throes of a panic attack.

Was he—

Spurred to action, you turned toward the way you came in, quick to rush down the stairs as swiftly as your legs could carry you. You sprinted around the bend of the building, nearly bumping into an abandoned cooking station off to your right, skirting it in the nick of time; you passed behind the structure, witness to a heartbreaking sight.

“Hey,” you whispered, Hancock having pushed himself back against the wall, knees to chest. The ghoul was tightly hugging his own legs, his marred face buried in the folds of his coat.

You weren’t sure what was happening, or why, only that he seemed deeply upset he could not find you, not expecting your brief absence would have such a negative effect. The ghoul was mumbling words you could not discern as you tiptoed forward, bending down to his level to address his huddled form.

“Hanni?” you asked gently, calling him by a pet name you had given him so long ago, John’s head shooting up, onyx eyes glistening, though you dare not think he had shed tears on your behalf. 

Hancock gazed at you, his expression a mix of sadness, incredulity, and stark relief. You placed a hand on his shoulder, concern marking your features, John not budging from his half-fetal position. 

“I thought—" he began, voice cracking, words quavering with an emotion you could not quite define, “—I thought you’d skipped out on me,” he offered pathetically, the amount of hurt present in his eyes enough to make you feel as if you deserved to die. So devastating was the look plastered across his handsome, ghoulish face that you wanted to cry, moving to cup his ruined cheek in the crux of your palm.

“Why would I do that?” you asked, tone soft but firm, staring at your reflection within gorgeous, dark depths, as if the answer lay hidden somewhere deep inside them.

“Because I don’t deserve you; because you can do better than me,” he answered without hesitation, “because who would want to be stuck with this ugly mug; wouldn’t wish it on my own worst enemy,” he finished flatly, Hancock’s dispirited disposition arising from being rejected—that’s not to say he blamed you.

“Didn’t wanna talk, ignoring me, couldn’t find you—just figured you were through,” he continued, tone solemn, making you feel awful. 

You had deeply sinned to make this man react in such a manner—that was your first thought, Hancock’s gloomy mood permeating your defenses. All the walls you had in place came tumbling down, feeling nearly sick to your stomach as you scooched forward, prompting Hancock to drop his knees, legs finding even ground.

“No,” you berated, “none of that is true.” You shifted, straddling the ghoul, your other hand joining its partner to cradle his jaw opposite. “I won’t leave you,” you pledged, placing a kiss atop his furrowed mouth. “The thought never even crossed my mind.”

Hancock searched your face; he expelled a dejected sigh, breathing out through the hollow cavity that once housed his human nose. “You—you’re the best thing I’ve got. I don’t want to lose you, sunshine. I’d be dead in a ditch somewhere if it weren’t for you, hopped up on chems,” he admitted, hanging his head. “But don’t think I would blame you for hittin’ the road. I’d manage, somehow. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to make do, so just say the word. Don’t feel obligated to stick around.” 

“Is that what you think? That I would abandon you? That I would get sick of you? That I don’t want you here by my side? Hancock—” you emphasized, running your thumb over the curve of his ear, forcing him to look squarely at you with a gentle redirection, “—I mean it when I say I love you,” you lamented, kissing his raised flesh. “Please, don’t doubt me.” 

John lifted his head with your help, the concave divot residing front and center brushing lightly across your cheek. He presented you with a kiss this time, his cock enlivening beneath you, unable to help his arousal at the admission of your heartfelt words. 

“I won’t, not anymore,” he promised, another kiss administered, and then another, returning each touch of his lips with one of your own until they picked up in fervor, Hancock’s sly tongue subtly snaking its way between your teeth. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” you cooed, warm, wet muscles intertwining in an orchestrated dance that rekindled the deep-seated ache of your loins. 

“You listen so well,” you needled playfully; you had the ghoul’s number, knowing just what made him tick.

Hancock moaned a sound of gratitude, your impromptu praise causing his prick to flex, lean, wilted fingers creeping forward to place themselves deliberately along your thighs; they ran up the dips in your hips, and smoothed over the shape of your waist.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Hancock grated between avid swirls. His cock was riding up against your slinky blue vault suit—like liquid latex poured to conform to your body, it fit tight as a glove.

John held no complaints, only that you were still wearing it. Fortunately, you had ideas. 

“Being such a good boy for me,” you teased, your own hands roving, exploring the contours of his slender chest and waist, sweeping back and forth; you hooked his partially corroded throat, carefully capturing Hancock between the crook of your palm, thumb trailing his Adam’s apple in a light caress. 

“Not sure you know what that does to me,” he purred, the ghoul at your mercy as you gyrated your hips, your own sex succinctly aligned as you massaged his erection through faded black slacks.  

“Are you so sure?” you asked, grinning into your kiss, one of Hancock’s hands sneaking along synthetic fibers for three fingers to stroke the underside of your jumper. He pushed up only slightly, cupping your mound; you felt it in your core, a subdued moan breathed straight into the ghoul’s mouth—Hancock was so turned on, it was a wonder he didn’t just nut right then and there.

“You teasin’ me, sunshine?” John panted, groping your breast, digits fingering stitchwork; you bit down on your bottom lip as you reached for the clasp at the front of your collar.

“Get this off me,” you instructed, fumbling with the pull of your zipper.

“Is that a request?” Hancock asked cheekily, though he did not expect an answer.

“An order,” you responded, feigning authority, Hancock doing as he was told, though there was a hint of a smile crawling up the side of his face. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the ghoul chortled wryly, watching as you shed your suit like a second skin. You ushered it past the arc of your shoulders, the slopes of your breasts, to the base of your hips, leaving yourself half naked and assailable; John was unable to help his amorous stare.

“You’re so beautiful,” he declared, moving to knead doughy flesh, mouth finding your throat; Hancock sucked the sweat off your flawless skin, his other hand working its way underneath what was left of your vault suit, two fingers dipping into your already soaked cunt. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, slipping in and out, thumb pushing itself between the folds of your labia to rub your throbbing bud. 

“Yes, let’s,” you returned, swirling your hips, riding Hancock’s thick fingers as you clumsily moved to untie the flag wrapped about his narrow waist. 

“Right here?” he asked, perplexed. Though not one to argue, being out in the open without cover was dangerous; he knew better than anyone the risks of the Wastes. 

“I want you,” you answered, as if that in and of itself was all he needed to hear. You knew there might be consequences, but at that moment, your hormones were the ones in charge, a sharp gasp escaping as John’s fingers curled against the anterior wall of your sex.

“I’m all yours, love, forever,” Hancock vowed, following your example. He hastily unbuckled his pants after releasing your tit with reluctance, pushing apart the flaps to withdraw his glaring hard on; precum was already seeping out the slit at its head. 

“Promise me,” you insisted, lifting up off your thighs—and Hancock’s fingers—to shimmy the rest of your suit down toward your knees. It might be a little awkward, but you were too desperate to care, taking up the ghoul’s girth in the breadth of your palm.

“Cross my heart and hope to—” 

“Don’t you dare,” you protested, shoving your tongue back into John’s mouth, guiding his cock inside you. You sank down onto your haunches, inch by delicious inch, his variegated shaft filling you full up.

Then, the ghoul went rigid. “But sunshine, what about—” 

“Shhh, that’s it,” you whispered, though Hancock hadn’t done anything to warrant a reprimand. It was your own descent that had you crooning, dipping forward to feel that delightful pressure snug against your walls. 

“Not sure you wanna end up like—”

“—I took one a few hours ago, remember?” The darling man was more concerned with your well-being than even you; you could physically feel the tension leaving his body, John relieved to know you had things under control.

“You do love me,” you stated breezily, flicking the tip of your tongue inside the helix of the ghoul’s ear; Hancock shuddered, both his hands returning to your hips, touch featherlight, prompting you to press your palms against the partition behind him to prop yourself up on either side of his head.

“Wouldn’t mind you turnin’ Ghoul,” he replied throatily, thinkin’ spending an eternity with you sounded like the best damn thing a guy could ask for. 

Hancock watched with bated breath as you rose up to enshroud him in your shadow, breasts level with his eyes. He groaned his appreciation, seizing your right nipple between puckered lips, John’s bony hips pushing up against the round of your ass. The ghoul sucked diligently, dull nails clawing gingerly into supple, human flesh, incapable of keeping a straight face.

“What was all that about not doubting each other?” John huskily reminded you, the point of his tongue flitting against your sensitive skin. He returned to suckling, as if a babe latched to nurse, the hand left idle finally slipping down your thigh. Hancock spread your lower lips apart with the underside of two fingers, a third taking its place atop your thrumming clit, engorged with blood. 

“Shut up,” you urged, wanting him to belay speaking for fear the moment might spoil, Hancock grunting in indignation before he bit down lightly on your nip. 

You gasped a broken breath, cunt rising to the head of his cock. You dropped back down; Hancock bottomed out, sequestered in the deepest part of you, snug as anything, the ghoul hypnotized by your pretty writhing. 

“Why don’t you make me.” Hancock intensified the patient revolutions of blotched fingers, dragging you down by compressing your cheeks with his thumb and index; you slumped your shoulders just enough, angling to meet his current height, tossing your arms about John’s neck to humor him with another passionate kiss.

“Done.” You rocked forward, feeling Hancock’s sizeable member immured to its base. Indecent sounds kept each other company, the squish of your conjoined loins combining with the wet, obscene spirals of your whorling tongues. It wouldn’t take much longer to climax, your slick cunt tightening its grip on John’s rock-hard cock. 

The ghoul’s chest heaved between ragged breaths, Hancock practicing his self-control. He didn’t want to cum until you did, sliding his palm up to carefully cradle the small protrusion distending your lower abdomen. 

Feeling the outline of himself inside you was nearly too much to handle, a visible tremor preceding what was to be an early warning.

“I-I can’t hold back, angel.”

“Wait,” you countered, guiding the ghoul’s head toward your breasts, driving his noseless face into your cleavage; Hancock’s tricorn shifted backward as he followed your lead. He vested himself in the cocoon of your limbs,  moaning his approval, grabbing onto a fistful of ass as your back arched in pleasure. 

You opened your eyes to gaze at the sky—it was pale blue and cloudless, for once.

You came hard, the flat of John’s palm supporting your spine as you released your ecstasy to the heavens, the ghoul’s tepid seed discharging in spurts to paint your inner walls white; his ejaculate had been offered as payment for your lovely little song.

The ghoul felt overwhelmed and full of deep affection for you; Hancock’s teeth bore down on beautiful, unblemished skin; he broke capillaries, drawing your blood to the surface, leaving his mark in the form of a dark red welt. 

You gasped at the bite, Hancock ensconcing you tightly in his arms, both of you allowing your orgasms to run their course. His grip was a comfortable vise, brittle nails burrowing into lithe flesh with almost paradoxical tenderness; John was always so careful with you.

From an outsider’s perspective, the embrace of a ghoul meant certain death, with the expectancy you would be rent into unrecognizable pieces. Such a pose as you presented now was questionable, one that evoked alarm from bystanders, settlers who had followed the beacon to their new home, expecting to find the general of the Minutemen, but not like this.

“Ghoul!” someone shouted; you heard the shuffling of leather, the clink of metal.

“No!” you yelled, protecting your lover with the entirety of your body, encapsulating his slight frame. You shielded his vitals with your bare back, hunkering down to speak to these newcomers over the peak of your shoulder. 

“He’s not feral!” you growled, hating that you had to defend him, knowing how John must feel at this moment as he gazed up at you with surprised, wide eyes. You cared not that a horde of people had seen you naked; you only cared for Hancock, determined to preserve him and all his parts.

In reality, the ghoul was seconds from tears, knowing—without a doubt—that you had meant what you said. You were guarding his wretched life with your own without question, willing to die to keep him from harm, just as he gladly would have sacrificed himself to see you live another day. 

A day, he thought, that might have been better off without him, but now he was glad to be alive (in some form or another), swallowing hard against the knot in his throat, eyes never once leaving your impassioned face.

“We’re together; we came here together, and we will leave here together, do I make myself clear?”

A person stepped forward, separating themselves from the crowd. “Yes, General,” they said, having fortunately, or rather unfortunately, recognized you.

With a sigh of relief, those gathered departed. John practically smothered you, so forceful was his hug that it nearly choked the air from your lungs. 

Hancock didn’t know what he’d done to get someone like you, and he was afraid to ask. If there were any powers at be—something, or someone—watching over him, he supposed he’d owe them one, but for now he was more than happy to count his blessings. And the sad thing was, everything, all of it, could be a dream—or one long, hallucinatory chem-trip. If this turned out to be nothing but a fucked up Jet flashback, he’d just as soon never wake up. 

“I’ll follow you to the end of the Wastes,” Hancock blurted, voice strained and rasping, fingers; arms; chest tightening as he spoke against soft tufts of hair. “You and me together, the world ain’t got a prayer.”

Despite what had just transpired, you cradled him against the bow of your neck, oblivious to the inner workings of his mind, only wishing to absorb him, for him to live in the space between your ribs that stored your heart. All you wanted was to keep him safe for all time, knowing that he deserved the world, though the ghoul would most certainly outlive you. 

It was a melancholy thought, if ever one existed, but you did not allow your mind to dwell. “Sweet man,” you murmured, “it doesn’t stand a chance in hell.”

—-

Fallout Masterlist

[kisses4reid]

convenient pt.5 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

FINAL CHAPTER

pt 4 - (this a continuation, you must read every part for prior knowledge)

summary - it might be the last time you see the man who helped you write your biology report.

warnings - awkwardness, TINY fallout, i think spencer himself should be a warning but 🤷‍♀️

genre - college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!reid, fluffy, slight angst

a/n - last part. thank you for the support, seriously could not be more thankful. this was originally going to be a debut oneshot, and now i’ve got the longest taglist i’ve ever had and more followers than i could imagine. i hope you enjoy this last part, i hope it lives up to what you wanted it to be ❤️

spencer folds up the steel ladder and places it in the damp, cold storage room in the back of the convenience store. he watches you lock the whining store up before you meet eyes and he takes a step back. an invitation to walk with him, which you happily accept.

his hair is messier, and under the umbrella you stole from the store, the muted streetlight highlights his brown eyes to turn them golden. hidden freckles pop out in places, eyelashes seem delicate and dance-like.

simply beautiful.

spencer grabs you by the elbow and pulls you to him slightly, looking down at the concrete pathway. you look down and back, only then noticing the massive puddle you were one step away from.

his fingers slide off as you smile at him as a thanks. you elbow burns.

a letter you received a few days ago reminds you of a ticking clock and you suddenly feel a rush of adrenaline. you clear your throat before starting, “when will i know more about you?”

spencer placed his hand in his pocket, other hands fiddling with the umbrella. “when you ask more questions,” he answers with a nervous smile.

you nod, arms crossing. “cats or dogs?”

“both?”

you glare but accept it and continue, “how many siblings do you have?”

“0. why does this matter? why do you want to know more about me?”

“well you already know how many siblings i…” you stop in your tracks, and he looks you up and down concerned. “spencer… i never told you i have a brother.”

a wave of anxiety takes over you, eyes wandering the man, heart beating at an alarming rate. you felt like a switch had been flipped in you by the revelation.

he blinks and takes a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with you once you raise your head. “how did you know my brothers name was ricky, spencer?”

the stranger shuddered at the vermin you attached to his name in confusion. he fumbled over his thoughts, looking around before he felt the umbrella get snatched from his hands. you steps splashed and echoed down the empty mornings street. but all the man could hear was a breaking heartbeat.

you shook the white umbrella off before stepping out of the small elevator, jumping in fright when you were met by logan’s blushed face. and a certain blonde man’s as well. your eyes danced between the both of them, ricky’s hair a mess, before you rolled your eyes and shoved a brass key in your paint-chipped apartment door.

“y/n, what happened?” logan called anxiously.

“i’ll tell you in the morning.” you opened your door.

“technically it’s-“

“shut it, ricky. and fix your hair before anyone else sees you.”

the slam of your door echoed down the apartment hallway, but not in your dark apartment. suddenly your home was quiet and lonely, drab and wet. a drizzle started outside and before you could feel bad you took the umbrella from spencer, you reminded yourself that you had nearly fallen for a stranger.

you dropped your keys on the kitchen counter and headed to your bathroom, rubbing your tired hands over your face in disbelief.

your heart wouldn’t stop yelling in your ears, you felt unsafe in your own home.

and yet the person who caused you to feel endangered was the only person you wanted to comfort you.

you couldn’t forget about spencer, even when he didn’t show up for 5 days.

every time the bell rang at the opening of the store’s door, you glanced up immediately. wanting? yearning? fear? you didn’t know, you never knew. the woman who had the shift before you was out the door before you could talk, though you were somewhat thankful. these days you wanted everything but to talk to people.

as soon as you sat down, pulled the company vest over your purple sweater, and grabbed the sticky note left by the previous worker - isla, or isabelle, her name tag was old - a lady in bright pink layers and bright pink hair clips stomped towards the counter.

great, you thought, two minutes into the shift and i’ve already got a complaint. you should’ve expected it, as it seemed an unlucky streak was beginning.

she placed her loudly coloured purse on the counter and suddenly- smiled?

“y/n?” her voice was sweet, high, like a hug.

“yes?”

and then it dropped, and she placed her hands delicately but passive-aggressively on the counter top.

“first off i would like to say, you are a gorgeous woman, and you work purple like no other- but your actions?”

you had no idea where this was going.

“my boy is sad because of you. he worked hard to start talking to you, to keep talking to you and oh, because i got excited my little genius might have a love interest in his little comic book of craziness you get all, ew he knows everything about me and i know nothing about him and i-. oh. yeah that is creepy.”

you nod, it’s about spencer.

“he is an amazing agent,”

agent?

“and he incredibly smart, and he’s a little cutie! spencer likes you very much, i thought he was going insane when he would suddenly start smiling out of no where while looking at crime scene photos.”

crime scene?

“he did not ask me to do a background check on you, that is completely my fault. i was feeling very protective and wanted to make sure he wasn’t being catfished somehow or tricked into a cult- which isn’t that far from what we deal with everyday-“

“everyday?”

“yeah well- oh.” she covers her pink lips, “oh honey. he didn’t tell you what he does for a living?”

an old couple and two teenagers were eavesdropping now. you nearly forgot you were working.

“he told me he couldn’t say… he’s an agent?” you fiddled with the forgotten note and furrow your eyebrows.

“fbi.”

you felt like you had lost half your body you felt so light, so free. you let yourself smile for the first time since last night, and place a hand over your mouth. spencer likes you very much. finally something made sense.

“that’s why he knew my brothers name?”

“i am so sorry, i totally over stepped and he is like a baby giraffe when it comes to girls. which doesn’t say much because you’re like the first girl he’s been interested in like,” she starts counting on her finger before you interrupt.

“it’s okay. you can tell spencer i forgive him, or something like that. i’m like a baby giraffe as well.” you say repeating her simile back at her.

she giggles at the connection and picks up her purse, smile wide on her sunny face.

“you can tell him later, they come home from arizona tonight.”

you locked the store doors, heart thudding as your count down was ticking down. you had just finished your last shift.

taking a few steps back, crossing your arms to huddle in the knitted sweater, your eyes wandered over the familiar store.

the store’s name in bright fluorescents, the security doors that didn’t actually have a working sound alarm (nobody but the employees knew), the weeds in the pavement and the flickering street lamp just to the left. so many conversations happened under that light, it seemed to be convenient.

“y/n?”

you spin on your feet, a breeze of all too familiar cologne greeting you before the sight of the tall man. his face was air washed, slightly blushed and smooth but chiseled. brown hair waved in front of his eyes in the misty breeze, a purple scarf warming his neck on top of an untidy suit. he was simply handsome. so goddamn handsome.

his eyes wandered your presence. his favourite colour on you, your hair pushed back into a loose ponytail with the two pieces at the front falling out, the cold air reddening your nose. you were unforgettable to him.

“hi spencer.”

he sighed with relief at the sound of his name, no anger attached, only longing. he slowly approached you, fully taking your attention away from the store. “you’re not angry at me any more, for stalking you?”

you smirked, “technically you didn’t stalk me.” he raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “i talked with one of your friends.”

“penelope.” you nodded, the name matching the face perfectly. he smiled to himself and took another step forward, a metre away. “i’m sorry i didn’t try to stop her, and for listening to her when i didn’t.” he replied, sincerity evident through the slightly pained expression he looked at you with.

“it’s fine, spence.”

spencer held his breath for a second, the nickname seeming so special and seamless coming from your mouth. you glanced back at the store, a pang of sadness hitting you before you rocked on your feet. “i should probably get home.”

“no!” spencer winced at his voice, hand reached out and hovering unconsciously, “sorry, you can- i’m not- uh. you should totally-“

“spencer i’m not going to be working here anymore.” you interrupt, receiving a surprised expression in return. “i got an offer to work in a lab with one of the top researchers in my course. so,” you thinned your lips and closed your eyes for a second in an attempt to call on some courage, “i really really need you to ask me out. right now. or i’m totally going to embarrass myself and attempt to do it, and i really don’t think you want that- trust me i do not have any-“

“i’ll ask you out then.” he took a smaller step forward, you adjusted your head to look up. he was so tall. “right now.” you gulped, he fiddled with his fingers with his eyebrows furrowed. it brought out those lines that were permanent not too long ago. “which by the way, you have every right to say no to this question. a-and i was really hoping we would be in a brighter and cleaner- and more romantic- place right now but with the circumstances and how i kind of told you i was going to do this anyways, i feel like i owe you it to you right now and i want to as well um-“

you stepped forward, chests centimetres apart. you could feel his breath on yours as you placed a hand on the previously bruised cheek, other hand grabbing him by the purple scarf, bringing him down softly to meet you in the middle.

“i’ll go out with you, spencer.” you whisper into his lips.

you smiled before kissing him lightly, his hands stopping for a millisecond before one appeared on your waist and the other on your rosy cheek. his heartbeat was thumping in his ears, a rush of happiness causing a wide smile to mix into the kiss. you couldn’t help but mirror it. you pulled away, returning flat on your feet as spencer followed, neck craning before taking his own breath.

“you will?” spencer croaked, cheeks and ears reddening. you nodded feverishly, “that’s great- that’s um.” his hand dropped to your arm, eyes wandering over your face in disbelief he actually pulled this whole thing off. sorta.

maybe it was the fact he would’ve never seen you again that scared him into mumbling, maybe it was the fact he had been yearning for weeks now. maybe it was the fact you admitted you were going to ask him out anyways, maybe it was a biology report you needed help with.

“walk me home, spence?” you grinned, dropping your arm to link with his, body heat embracing the two of you. he turned with you, steps becoming slowly synchronised. and although he had to awkwardly bend his arm at the unfamiliarity at the gesture, spencer felt more comfortable than he could ever imagine.

“so, bookstore? weekend?” he asked sheepishly, looking down at you.

“sure thing.” you reply, bringing him closer and squeezing his arm in happiness.

spencer, definitely nerdy enough.

you hid behind spencer’s kitchen counter, glancing over at emily, garcia and jj and copying their cheeky grins. having your boyfriend work with a found family had its perks, especially when they accept you instantly.

aaron hotchner, the man you had grown less afraid of over the months, was peeling out of spencer’s bedroom door, before he quickly moved out of sight.

the door rattled, it clicked, it opened.

“happy birthday!!!” everyone screamed. spencer was rigid but stood with a great smile, cheeks red and eyes wide.

“hey guys.” he croaked in surprise.

you slowly walked to him with his birthday cake as morgan slipped a birthday hat on the younger man.

spencer looked at you with stars in his eyes, hands itching to hug you like he usually does when he sees you. you placed the cake down, gave him a peck on the cheek and told him, “make a wish, spence.”

and he blew out the candles promptly. and he wished a million wishes. most if not all, being about you.

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @anuncalledbridge @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @screechingphantommaker @c-losur3 @ackermans-angel @lovelyygirl8 @random-kimmy @leabunny @cultish-corner @doigettokeepyou @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @wenttohogwarts @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @drewsandsebastianswife @hoeshissworld @flow33didontsmoke @bookworm124 @violetvsworld @amethyst-marie368 @lizzyk137 @so-chill-mochill @fwzco @queermaxwooo @willywowka @jasf444 @trashmonstersara @amortencjja @belsreid @redmurderbaby @ilikw @v1ckycheesue @scarlettssub @fictionlurker @momooooca @yaboohah @phiadc @the1eyedmonster16 @hinataboke

[consciouscarrot]

flufftober day 4 - holding hands [ b.hargrove ]

billy hargrove x fem!reader

content warnings; physical fighting (not between billy and reader), angst to fluff, brief mentions of trauma, misogynistic comments (not from billy), seemingly toxic relationships but it’s not actually

notes; all my flufftober fics are turning into angst/hurt comfort, i’m very sorry if that’s not your vibe but i promise it wasn’t intentional

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

the sun was blaring down on you as you sat on the bleachers, heat almost too much as the sound of students’ chatter surrounded you. you were sat with billy and his friends, you didn’t like them very much, you thought they were mean and judgmental, cruel and selfish, only caring about their social status and looking better than everyone else. you hated sitting with them, especially as they were making loud comments at a group of shy freshman girls, causing them to go red in the face and teary-eyed.

you hated it, but billy wanted to sit with them. he’d make the odd comment, just enough to fit in with the group, to seem like he thought the same way as them.

you and billy had been dating for almost 7 months, you loved each other, and you were constantly around one another, not able to bear being apart for too long, but no one knew about the two of you. you’d both decided in the beginning that it was the best decision, not wanting a public fallout if something went wrong, and wanting to keep all things new and exciting to yourselves.

at first, it had been perfect, you’d found sneaking around thrilling, loving that only the two of you knew about your relationship, only you knew about the love you shared. but slowly, you began to tire of it, and around the five month mark, you only felt guilty about lying to your close friends and family, and you hated the attention billy was getting from girls. you saw other couples in public and wanted to be like them, you wanted to be able to say that billy was yours and be able to go on public dates, kiss him in front of people and hold hands in the school hallways.

but, billy wasn’t quite there yet, he wanted those things too, of course he did, but his was holding himself back. he’d worked himself up over the months, mind whirring with self-critical thoughts until his breaths quickened and his palms slicked.

he wasn’t sure how you’d take meeting his father, not wanting you to be disrespected, as misogynistic comments were a common occurrence from the old man.

he was also worried about people saying things about him not being good enough for you, that he was just trying to get in your pants when that was not the case, at all.

and then of course, his familial situation was obviously not the best, and he was terrified of being publicly humiliated like he had been before, scared that once everyone knew about the two of you, that you’d leave him, just like his mom did.

he’s never had anything real and good, like how the two of you are, nothing pure and just for him. nothing so filled with love and kindness and respect. he’s so scared to lose you, scared that you’ll come to your senses and finally leave him. you’re his everything and he knows that things have been going too well for him lately, so now he’s just waiting for what’s going to go wrong.

you tried your best to support him, always listening to his rants or even just holding him if that’s what he needed, but it was getting exhausting for you. you couldn’t go on in this situation for much longer, feeling like you weren’t enough for him to take that next step, anxiety clouding your brain and making you worry whether he’s enjoying the female attention too much, scared that he might be out with someone else on nights where he’s supposedly staying in.

you’d eventually given up on hiding how you felt about billy, now being labelled the obsessed high school girl with a pathetic little crush. it was embarrassing, and you’d hoped it would trigger billy into defending you, into finally revealing his love for you, but he’d just given you a sympathetic look and made some comment about being a one and done kinda guy.

you’d almost broken up with him for that, heartbroken that he could say that to you, that he could let them say those things about you. he’d begged and cried for you to forgive him, promising that he would try and make things public between you.

that had been over a week ago, and you were becoming more and more disappointed, feeling silly for ever believing his empty promises.

carols voice broke you out of your melancholy, shouting some dirty joke to the boys as she shrieked and giggled obnoxiously. you adjusted your legs, uncomfortable on the cool metal, and tried to focus on getting through the last five minutes of lunch.

billy glanced over at you, you smiled softly, not wanting him to worry. you desperately wanted to lay your head on his shoulder, but you don’t think you’d be able to deal with the rejection of him pulling away or making a comment like he usually does, whatever it takes to keep you his dirty little secret.

you broke eye contact first, turning your head away and looking over at a group of your classmates down on the field. you could feel his eyes burning on the back of your head, and hoped that he won’t be too mad at you later. you love him but you really can’t keep things up like this.

you were about to make an excuse so that you could leave when you felt a heavy weight on your knee. nearly giving yourself whiplash, you snapped your head back towards him, seeing his hand on the bare skin of your leg. you lifted your widened eyes to his, mouth slightly agape.

he refused to take his focus away from you, not even when the others started to notice his show of affection.

“don’t be so mean hargrove, you know she’d whore herself out to you if you asked,” tommy h jeered, smacking his friend in the stomach and howling at his own words. billy didn’t find that very amusing, though.

before you could try and diffuse things, billy stood up, enraged, and made his way over to the shorter brunet, “the fuck did you just say?”

tommy sobered up pretty quickly when he realised that he’d overstepped, stumbling back a little, clambering down the bleachers.

“c’mon man, it was just a joke! everyone knows how she feels about you, maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing,” tommy scrambled to try and rectify the situation, but only fuelling the fire. no one had any chance to react before billy twisted his arm back and punched him in the face.

your classmates swarmed around the pair, shouting encouragement at whoever they thought would win. you gasped as tommy almost landed a fist in billy’s face, and urged the other boys to break them up. someone finally managed to separate the two, both panting and tommy was holding a hand to his now bruising jaw.

“don’t you ever disrespect my girl again, y’hear me hagan?” he spat, fists clenched and ready to jump back on the boy.

he turns away from the group, gently grabbing at your hand and guiding you towards the parking lot, apparently deciding to skip school before any of the teachers could come out and hound at him for his actions.

you grasped onto his bicep with your free hand, leaning your weight into him and unable to keep yourself from beaming up at your boyfriend.

you could see the corners of his mouth twitching, trying to maintain his pissed off expression. after a moment, he relented, smiling widely and returning your gaze.

“thank you, billy,” you smushed the side of your face into his shoulder, so relieved and overjoyed that he’d taken that step, even though he’d gotten hurt in the process.

he shook his head, smile dimming slightly, “should’ve done it a long time ago.”

he kissed the top of your head, before opening the passenger door to his camaro for you. you giggle to yourself as he walked around the bonnet, giddy and excited to go home with him.

and if you gave him an appreciating blowie on the way home, then that’s your business.

—————

any constructive criticism would be massively appreciated:) i really wanna get better at writing <3

[10crunchynapkins]

Piper Wright x Fem!SoSu

Form: Drabble

Warnings: None

Word Length: 484

Summary: two oblivious lovestruck idiots spend some time together.

“hey, blue?”

tinkering with their weapon on piper’s couch azrael was lost too deep in her thoughts to hear piper’s call.

“blueyyyy~”

“…yes?”

a delayed answer, still not looking up from her weapon. piper shakes her head and walks over to her companion and places her hand on her hip,

“y’know, any other time i call you that you throw a fit.”

“uh-huh…”

piper rolls her eyes and plops down next to sosu. she leans on her shoulder, placing her hands under her chin, observing her partner work tediously on a rifle that she had picked up on their previous journey.

“you’re not even listening to me are you, blue?”

piper watches as sosu pauses for a beat, the torque wrench in her left hand resting on the bolt she was adjusting. piper’s eyes move from the handiwork of her companion to their eyes, a small smirk on her face when their gazes meet.

“i am, i’m just learning to be more accepting of your oh so omnipresent personality.”

piper feigns hurt, placing her hand on her chest, her eyebrows perched high as she scoffs,

“that sounds like you’re trying to call me annoying in your own round-a-bout way.”

sosu hums and almost lets a smirk wash it’s way onto her face before wiping it away with a straight face.

“you’re too close, i need space for my work.”

piper sighed, and moved her head from azrael’s shoulder to resting on her palms, leaned over her knee.

“as serious as ever, blue.”

sosu’s eyes followed her movement, continuing to linger over piper’s figure, filled with something piper still hasn’t quite figured out to read.

“yup,”

sosu faces her gun again and adjusts herself, discreetly scooting ever so closer to piper.

“but you knew what you signed up for when you became my companion.”

piper lets out a soft laugh and nods slightly,

“i suppose you’re right, partner”

she goes back to watching blue work, a small smile on her face. sosu was truly an amazing person. granted she knew how to work her nerves like no other and was a bit of an ass sometimes, but all in all, sosu was a good, dependable person. she really amazed her.

“sosu?”

“yes, piper?”

no response. sosu looked over at piper and cocked her eyebrow.

“piper?”

piper just smiled at her companion and shook her head.

“nevermind”

sosu went deadpan and let out a quiet groan.

“you know i hate when you do that.”

piper laughed and mocked back.

“yup, but you knew what you signed up for.”

blue rolled her eyes and continued on her work. piper annoyed the hell out of her on a daily basis - at least when she was traveling with her - but nonetheless she was still one of her favorite people to be with in this hellscape. she truly couldn’t ask for a better…companion

yea that’s the word.

“can’t argue with you there”

piper playfully elbowed sosu’s side gently, being sure not to move her too much and mess up what she was working on.

“you love me though”

piper smiled at sosu, expecting nothing but a sarcastic response to which she didn’t disappoint.

“in your dreams, paper girl.”

piper sighed happily, closing her eyes and gently placing her head on her companion’s shoulder. she glanced over her friend for half a second, a small, almost unnoticeable content smile on her face causing piper’s to wear the same expression.

this was enough, wasn’t it?

[bvtbxtch]

Angry Heart | Eddie Munson x fem!reader (Prologue)

Summary: Your best friend Chrissy Cunningham always got everything she ever wanted, even you new friend and crush Eddie Munson. When Chrissy does the unthinkable, Eddie is left to pick up the pieces alone... or is he?

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson x Reader (eventually), reader and Chrissy are friends but have a fallout. Minimal usage of Y/N

Series warnings: MDNI 18 +, Smut, fluff and angst (everything all rolled into one beautiful shit show), mentions of drugs and alcohol being consumed, overall adult language and theme. By clicking the read more, you agree that you are over 18! Ageless and minor blogs who interact will be blocked.

Word count: ~4.7k

A/N: this story is the weird brainchild of me getting a little inebriated and remembering how my divorced parents met and I was inspired. This is my first fic ever and I know it is NOT GOOD, but feedback is always appreciated. This is just the prologue to set up some context for our characters. I have a rough plan as to where this story is going to go but I am so open to suggestions!! Thanks for reading y'all.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

September 1985

Chrissy Cunningham was always perfect. And it was even more annoying because she was pretty, popular and nice to everyone she made eye contact with. That is also why you had been best friends since junior high when you both joined the dance team. When high school hit, she projected herself into the popular group by revolving your high school experience around cheerleading and the popular girls, where you happily sacrificed some of your valuable reputation to pursue both cheer and drama club. Chrissy was always there even though you were seen as less desirable as the other girls on the team. Even if she was in the back row, she would always be at your productions and would happily cheer you on. 

Although she was your best friend, she scared you a lot. She was on the path to a scholarship to her dream school, to getting scooped up by some picture perfect person and getting married and having her dream job. She would stay hot and pretty and perfect forever and as you were approaching graduation, you often worried about what was next for you - terrified of peaking in high school and amounting to nothing. Worried about not finding your own group of people, your own scholarship, and your own path laid out neatly like Chrissy’s was.

Eddie Munson, however,  was the opposite of perfect. If Chrissy was a sparkling smooth personality, Eddie was a jagged edge that very few people appreciated. He was a repeat senior who dealt drugs to all of Hawkins’ youth and  was unapologetically apathetic to the restraints that were supposedly placed on the senior class of ‘86. So when he happily worked sound for the drama club in exchange for free rentals for his DND club, many drama kids turned their noses up at him; except for you. You happily sat next to him at your first drama club meeting. There was something magnetic about him. From that first time you met him, you were determined to get to know him better. Your intuitions told you that he was going to be more than a background character in your own story. 

Two friends from opposite circles, opposite ends of the spectrum. As you and Chrissy left the gym fussing over new uniforms and team drama, Eddie was on the other side of the school picking his lunch kit out of the garbage, nursing a new black eye; and a freshman on his left pacing a rut into the hallway.

“Last time I stick up for you, Henderson. I swear to god…you’re lucky I have extra shirts in the drama storage.” The metalhead mumbled. His dark curls pulled back into a low bun as he dug further into the garbage can. 

“How was I supposed to know that it was Jason behind me? I didn’t mean to fall into him!” Dustin pouted. Eddie had picked him off the floor after Jason Carver had poured his gatorade down his Hellfire shirt. Eddie would never admit it, but as much as he loved his precious club, he cared for his freshmen recruits more. Jason, being the captain of the basketball team, and therefore the resident asshole, gave Eddie the shiner for his troubles, and threw his stuff in the garbage as an extra favor. You rounded the corner with Chrissy as you saw the two boys, both looking worse for wear. 

“Hey Ed - Oh my god your face!” You gasped as he turned around after finally fishing his lunch kit out of the trash.

“You should see the other guy” Eddie chuckled, and winced

“What other guy?” When he does not respond to your question you turn to the freshman who looks like he has seen a ghost. 

“J-Jason Carver. Eddie was just trying to save my ass.” Dustin squeaked, his eyes glued to his sneakers.

“Come with me”. You grab his hand and lead him to the girls locker room. Chrissy hot on your trails. 

After investigating to ensure no one else was in the changeroom, you lock the door and sit Eddie down on a bench while you enter the small infirmary to retrieve the first aid kit. Chrissy keeps her distance, but sits down beside him and flashes him a polite smile. Eddie feels a pang in his heart as he feels his cheeks start to burn red. Chrissy lets out a small giggle.

“That’s really brave what you did for that kid” Chrissy praised. 

“Ahh, there is no way Henderson would be able to take on that meathead. I gotta take care of my minions.” 

Chrissy laughs again, almost too loud. As you pace back to the two of them, you feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and both of them look away, blushing furiously. You take a long sigh as you open the first aid kit to find the ice pack and a bandaid for the small cut that has formed on Eddie’s cheekbone. He winces while you stick the bandaid on and you gently place the ice pack over his eye. His brown eyes glued to Chrissy’s as you tended to him. Once you finished, you cleaned up and the three of you returned to the bustling hallways of Hawkins High.

“Thanks for the help sweetheart. I just wish this was a spiderman bandage or something.” Sweetheart.

“Don’t sweat it Eddie. I’ll see you in rehearsal later” you smiled. Chrissy eyed Eddie up and down as you said your goodbyes and Eddie turned around to go to his next class. 

“I never realized how much of a charmer Eddie Munson is,” Chrissy pondered. You felt a pit in your stomach. As much as you loved Chrissy, Eddie was your friend first. So many of your teammates had put Chrissy as a priority over you, and you always felt like a drifter between drama and cheer - seeing as you felt you didn’t totally feel like you belonged in either.. Eddie was finally a person that you thought was yours, something that Chrissy couldn’t influence, someone that finally didn’t care about your background or where you fit on the food chain. But, lo and behold, it seems that everyone falls under the high school spell and everything always seems to be too good to be true for you.

“Yeah, he’s a cool guy I guess. He does the sound for the drama club apparently he’s got a knack for music. Walked into him playing some Black Sabbath on the guitar in the drama room.” You tried to retort calmly, but your hands were trembling. 

“Black Sabb -?Hmph. I think that is going to give me yet another reason to go to the drama room… Since he seems to be good with his hands” Chrissy giggled and intertwined her arm with yours, leading you to your shared math class. 

“Chris, please don’t just play with this one, I do really like him. I think he could be a really good friend.” Friend.

“That’s totally fine! Nothing’s gonna happen. I guess I just realized how cute he was…Maybe I should ask him to come watch us at the next game, or hang out…afterwards” Chrissy winks at you

“You’d be better off setting up a deal with him” you poke. She giggles as you both take your seats. 

You could barely focus in math, mind racing about how much Chrissy and Eddie bothered you. Was it really just the idea of him and Chrissy being better friends than you? Or were you jealous? That’s ridiculous because you liked Eddie as a friend. Just a friend. Chrissy could go out with Eddie all she wants. You aren’t the boss of her - or him for that matter. Then why are you stuck on the way your heart fluttered when he called you sweetheart? Why were you constantly seeking him out in the hallways?

No. It can’t be. You’re just friends. 

October 1985

Your body was radiating with anxiety during afternoon rehearsals.The pit in your stomach had grown to a full ache in your chest whenever you heard Chrissy talk about Eddie. The more you taked with him, the more you wanted to reach out and touch him, to hug him and tell him that he was the greatest, most interesting person you had ever met. But again, everything seems way too good to be true because every time you hung out with Eddie, Chrissy seemed to make her way into conversation.

 Eddie was teaching a freshman how to use the new sound board and you could barely get out your lines. All you could think about is Eddie and Chrissy in the locker room. Your performances were so uninspired that Mr. Taylor ended your scene rehearsals early. Your scene partner Eric gave you an apologetic pat as you both reunited with the rest of the drama club. Eddie sauntered up behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. 

“How’s it going superstar?” He leaned his chin on the top of your head.

“Hey Eddie. I’m okay, trouble focusing today. I’m totally flubbing today.”

“Hey, so I had a question for you… about Chrissy”. You tensed up and broke away from him. You turned to face him but could not look him in the eyes.

“Umm, yeah what’s up?” There comes that ache you knew all too well. You could see it happening now, him finally choosing her over you. 

“Is she single? What’s the deal? Is she dating any basket boys I should be worried about?” He poked at you nervously. You tried to let a laugh escape to ease the tension but all that came out was an exasperated wince. 

“No, she’s single.. Do what you want Ed.” you mumbled. You could feel the tears threatening to well up. You brush past him and pick up your bag to head to the gym. Eddie’s eyes follow you out, but he couldn’t bring himself to go after you. What was your deal?

You trudged off the field after an exasperating practice after an exhausting rehearsal. You were so excited to leave this day in the past, grab some junk from the supermarket with Chrissy and hunker in for an evening of studying. In the locker room, Sarah and Tiffany giggle and look at you and Chrissy. 

“Hey Chris, we were wondering if you wanted to come to the mall with us right now. We were going to pick up some outfits for Halloween!” Tiffany briefly meets your gaze and looks back to Chrissy. 

“Yeah sure!” the blonde chirped “We would love to! Y/N and I were just going to-”

“Oh, well we only have room for one..” Sarah sneered. Chrissy looks at you with her beautiful brows furrowed into a perfect pout. You knew she wanted to go with them. You felt bad for making Chrissy sacrifice her social standing to hang out with you. You knew she wanted to go, but would never tell you. You decided to take the fall for her… the undesired yet again.

“Yeah, that’s fine, I got lots of homework to do anyways” you brushed off. “I’ll call you later Chris.”

“I’ll come over after!” Chrissy lazily offered as you packed your bag up and left the locker room.

You left with holes in your heart. All you wanted was your people to stay yours. You didn’t understand why that was so difficult.

The shrill ring of your landline woke you from your desk - having fallen asleep while finishing homework. You flopped onto your bed and picked up the phone.

“Hello?” You yawned.

“Babe, I have to tell you about my evening!!” Chrissy squealed, she barely let you greet her.

“Oh, you mean the evening you were supposed to spend with me studying?” you jabbed. You felt bad for taking your insecurities out on Chrissy, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Oh come on now. This will make up for it.”

“Alright get on with it then.” You rolled your eyes and rolled on to your back.

“So you will never believe who me, Tiffany and Sarah ran into at the mall!”

“Ummm… John Cusak” You joked dryly. 

“No you silly! Eddie!” Chrissy yelped. “And do I have news for you!!”

You jolted up and immediately gave the call your full attention. This could not end well - either for Eddie or you.

“Sarah and Tiffany let you talk to Eddie in public?” you snorted. The insecurity seeping through the receiver.

“Well, kind of. We joked that the party next week would be best with something other than just the alcohol if you know what I mean” you could practically hear Chrissy’s eyebrows wagging. “So they dared me to go set up a deal with him… and I could see him practically drooling over me! I think he might like me, babe. And I think that I really like the fact that he does” she giggles maliciously. Attention. As kind and beautiful as Chrissy was, she was used to the attention, she thrived off of it. It worried you, the fact that there were hordes of guys that had been left in her wake so she could have an ego boost or something to do on a Friday night. 

“Chris, are you sure that’s, like, a good idea? What if you really hurt him?”

“Oh come on, Y/N, its just a bit of fun. Nothing serious! So anyways, I went over to his trailer about an hour ago and he asked for my number! Ugh!” Your excitement wasn’t reciprocated like Chrissy had hoped. Her squeals being the only ones that echoed between the two of you.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you excited?” Chrissy questioned. 

“I just - you’re both my friends, I just don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Ugh you worry way too much. It’s just some harmless fun! Loosen up, maybe then you could get some dates yourself!” she chided. You knew she was joking but it was the last blow to your breaking heart “ Anyways, I gotta get off the line just in case he tries to call! Love you!” with that you hear a click and the dead line. You sigh as you put your phone back on the receiver and flop back down onto your pillows.

You always hated halloween. It was an excuse for anyone your age to dress up in some sort of sexy reiteration of some sort of animal or cartoon character and to get sloppy drunk in someone’s trashed house, unbeknownst to their absent parents. That is exactly where you found yourself; Chrissy on one side of the couch, Tiffany on the other, you smooshed in the middle (as per Chrissy’s request)  and half of the basketball and cheer team sat in a messy circle on the floor. How you got yourself roped into spin the bottle, you would never know, but your makeshift devil horns were giving you a headache and as much as you loathed blacking out in random people’s houses, you were nursing your fourth drink of the night (and were definitely feeling the buzz). Between the noise of people talking over each other, the blaring music, and Chrissy constantly blabbing about how much time she and Eddie have been spending together, you felt like your brain was going to explode. The only option that you really saw for the evening was to forget all about it like half of the Hawkins High population at the party. 

Jason grabbed the empty bottle in the middle of the circle and spun it with vigor. Everyone waited in anticipation to see who would be the lucky girl to get to kiss the king of Hawkins high. The room fell hushed as you looked at the bottle, which was pointing directly at you. You immediately felt like you were going to throw up. Since that day in the hallway with Eddie, you always held some animosity for Jason. The last thing you wanted to do was kiss the guy who went after one of your other best friends. Jason chuckled and elbowed his minions on either side of him, all of them snickering deviously. He stood from his spot and stalked across the circle towards you. You chuckled nervously and went to get out of your spot on the couch. 

“Hah, don’t mean to kill the vibe, but suddenly I don’t really feel like playing anymore.” You push yourself off the couch and go to step over some people sitting on the floor but Jason grabbed your wrist. Hard. You felt the world spinning around you, unsure if it was your sudden anxiety, or the alcohol. You could hear the faint whispers of Chrissy and Tiffany behind you, and you were suddenly aware of the 20 pairs of eyes locked on you. You tried to pull away from him with no avail.

“Come on, don’t be a prude. Let me give you the best kiss of your life, seeing as the only person you’ve boned is the freak” He pulled you into his chest and held your face in his hands. He pressed his mouth to yours, trying to weasel his tongue inside your pressed lips. You finally got the strength to push him away with a cry in disgust. You wanted to slap him but your bones now felt like jello and your feet cemented to the floor.

“She hasn’t boned the freak! She hasn’t boned anyone!” Chrissy laughed, not realizing that her retort did more harm than good. You wished the ground would swallow you whole. Finally, you muster your strength to move. You didn’t want any of these assholes to see you cry, to give them the satisfaction.

“Thanks, Chris” you whisper before running out of the room and up the stairs to the crowded living room. You were desperate for some air. Everything around you felt like it was constricting you, choking you. All you could hear was laughter and your vision felt like it was pinholing. You slide out of the front door to sit on the steps. You breathe deeply, looking around to make sure that there was no one around before you let your tears fall.

Chrissy made an attempt to go after you. After rolling her eyes and giving Tiffany a tight smile, she lifter herself off of the couch and pranced up the stairs to the rest of the party. She looked around the scatterings of people, but didn’t see you. She slid her way through the hallway into the kitchen, where her eyes found someone else she had been casually looking for all evening. She stumbled towards a mop of chocolate curls and wrapped her arms around him, hands covering his eyes.

“Guess who?” she slurred. 

“Hey pretty girl.” Eddie turned to her to give her a proper embrace but quickly took a step back. “Don’t know if you want to be seen doing that to me right now” he chuckled nervously. Eddie understood what being seen with him meant and as little as he cared for his own reputation, he cared greatly for hers

. Chrissy looked him up and down and fully realized the metal head’s beauty. Pale skin kissed with dark ink, beautiful brown eyes that shone - especially when he talked to her, lean figure and crooked smile. She felt like her brain was going to short circuit.

“You’re right” Chrissy cooed. “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private so we could talk” She took his hand and led him up the stairs to a quiet hallway full of closed doors. They rounded a corner and they sank down the wall to sit on the floor, Chrissy totally forgetting about her mission to find you and Eddie being blissfully ignorant to your conundrum.

You had collected yourself and knew there was no way you could stay at the party. As much as you loathed going back into the chaos and as angry as you were at Chrissy, you couldn’t allow yourself without letting her know that you were leaving and how angry you were. When reentered the house, the first faces you were met with were Jason and his posse of meatheads. You averted your gaze but heard their snickers anyway. You refused to give him the satisfaction or the tears, so you kept moving, keeping your eyes glued to the linoleum. The tightness of your chest multiplied with the number of rooms you checked where you did not see a perky blonde ponytail. You needed to find Chrissy; you needed to give her a piece of your mind; you needed to leave. But everything was deafening. Things were getting fuzzy.  Determined to get a grip and find your friend, you trot up to the top floor of the house, in search of a quiet place to collect yourself. You were met with a long hallway full of closed doors. You continue down the hallway, checking doors to see if you could find a bathroom. When you round the corner of the dim upstairs, your breath gets caught in your throat.  You see Eddie sitting on the floor, Chrissy in his lap, their mouths messily mashed together. Everything came tumbling down. The combination of alcohol and shock makes you wrack out a gasp of air. Both Eddie and Chrissy looked up but with very different expressions. Chrissy looked almost proud of her conquest, ignorant to the hurt you were already feeling towards her. Eddie, on the other hand, looked mortified - turning a bright red. The look of betrayal was clear across your own face as tears threatened to fall again. 

“Im - I’m going to go.” you don’t wait for either of them to get up. Eddie pushes Chrissy to her feet and gets up to go after you. Chrissy grabs his arm

“Eddie, wait!”

“Chrissy, I am so incredibly sorry, but I need to go make sure she’s okay” He goes to move away from her but she stops him again and pulls him in for a chaste kiss.

“Please don’t let this be the last time we do this” she whispers into his ear and drops his hand. Eddie turns a bright pink and leaves her with a smile.

You trudge through the house, tunnel vision honing in on the front door. The urge to vomit increased tenfold. Eddie catches up to you. You hear him calling out for you but you can’t turn back. Too embarrassed and heart broken (and drunk) to be able to handle what you saw in an unfamiliar place, in front of strangers nonetheless. You swung open the front door and ran down the front steps. Eddie trudges after you, clearly upset about what you had seen. There was no way he was going to let this get between the two of you. 

“Y/N Wait” He sounds desperate. You turn to him and roll your eyes. 

“What? Is it not what it looks like?” you laugh dryly. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, I’m going home.” You turn to leave. You couldn’t take another person pitying you. You understood where you were on the food chain. Yet another person to think of you as second best to Chrissy.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t walk by yourself this late at night.” Eddie chides. The alcohol had finally given you the bravery you had been needing for the past hour. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t sweetheart me when you are literally going to go back inside and suck face with my best friend. Just - go. Enjoy the rest of your night Eddie. I’ll be just fine.” The tears freely falling down your cheeks didn’t convince him. He takes a step towards you but you turn to walk away,

“Why are you so angry with me about Chrissy? I thought I didn’t need to explain anything to you, but you seem really fucking mad at me”. Eddie’s words stop you dead in your tracks. He’s angry? With you? Instead of actual vomit, the words that come out of your mouth leave uncontrollably.

“She doesn’t like you Eddie. She likes the attention. She doesn’t like you like I do. She doesn’t care about you like you deserve to be cared about. And she likes the fact that I care about you way too much. Chrissy has to have everything. I can’t have anything to myself, but yet again no one gives a shit about me, about how I feel. How much I care because as long as Chrissy is there, she will always be number one. You are just  another conquest for her and ,and she is just using you” You stand your ground, chest heaving. There is a sense of relief that you stood your ground but you immediately knew you said to much.

“E-Eddie, wair-”

“You think that I don’t know that she’s using me?”

“What?”

“Look, Y/N I am really really sorry that you care about me and I am really sorry that you feel that way about Chrissy. But I really like her. So I’m cool if she thinks that she wants to have some fun for now. I’ll let her as long as she’ll have me. Just -  please stop caring about me, sweetheart. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I want to be your friend but, fuck -I might be in love with Chrissy. I think I have been for a long time, but just finally let myself feel it..”

You stood in shock. Your heart shattered to a million pieces. Eddie’s did too. He loved having you as a friend and he loved having you in his life, but he couldn’t imagine kissing you like he did Chrissy, taking you on dates like he wanted to with Chrissy, going to prom like he wished he would with Chrissy. Not you. 

“Forget we ever had this conversation”. You turned on your heels and walked away. Hoping that Eddie would stop you and tell you that this was all a joke, that you were worth it, that you were his favorite and that he felt the same way about you. And even though being Chrissy’s friend was draining a lot of the time, you did  always have her. But everything changed in one night. This is the first night that you have ever felt completely  alone. You crossed your arms over your torso and started your walk home.

The next days and weeks went on as normal. Eddie seemingly didn’t tell Chrissy about your conversation because the phone calls never ceased. She still met you by your locker and she still intertwined her arm with yours when you walked. Eddie's gaze was aimed more at Chrissy and nights where you and Eddie normally hung out were now filled with secret rendezvous with the blonde. Although he still acted like your old Eddie, you felt a coldness from him. His smile never seemed genuinely happy and his eyes stopped glowing when he saw you. You kept quiet in efforts not to lose your only true friends at the school, but your shattered heart was refractured after every phone call you got from Chrissy, every detail you heard about their meetups or how soft his hands were or how great his kisses were.. You felt like you were crashing and burning but you kept up your facade to ensure you could salvage your fractured friendship, and every time you hung up your phone, you curled into your pillow and cried because although things were seemingly as they were supposed to be, you had never felt so out of place and isolated in your life.

You were waiting for Chrissy to come over, books sprawled across your kitchen table in anticipation for your study session for your semester finals. She was over an hour late.You sighed as you pulled out your flashcards and started to review in an attempt to salvage the time you had already wasted. You were interrupted by your phone ringing. 

“Hello?”

“Babe oh my god I am so sorry I am running behind but you are never going to guess what happened!!” 

“What’s that Chris?”

“Eddie Asked me to be his girlfriend!!”

Part 1 when?

[fluentmoviequoter]

Love (Both of) You

Requested Here!

PART 2: Love (Both of) You More

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: After telling your husband you're pregnant, he kicks you out. Going to your best friend Luca's house, you find an unexpected source of comfort in Deacon Kay.

Warnings: reader is pregnant and suffers from hyperemesis gravidarum (severe nausea, vomiting, and dizziness), reader's ex-husband is a terrible person. Deacon and Luca are the perfect protective duo. lots of hurt/comfort, slight angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

✯✯ 4 Months Ago ✯✯

“Are you sure?” Luca asks, displeased with the last answer.

“Yes, Luca,” you answer quietly. “He’s… he’s a good guy.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s the right guy for you. You can do so much better than him and you know that.”

“If I could do better, then why haven’t I?” you ask with a sad smile, your eyes dropping to the engagement ring on your finger.

“He made you sign a pre-nup. This isn’t love,” Luca whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“And I don’t want to be alone again.”

Luca sighs, pulling you into a proper hug as you wrap your arms around him and press your face against his shoulder.

“I could always set you up with someone.”

“Like Street?” you tease.

“We’re looking for someone better, remember?” Luca plays along.

You take a shaky breath and step back. “It’ll be okay. The pre-nup is just- just a precaution.”

“Or a fallout plan because he knows he needs one.”

“Why are you trying to talk me out of this?”

“Because I don’t think he loves you. And I know it sounds terrible but you’re my best friend and I don’t want to see this guy hurt you.”

You nod, biting your bottom lip as you think.

“I already said yes. I’m doing this.”

“Okay,” Luca says, smiling as he nods. “I really hope I’m wrong.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

✯✯ Present Day ✯✯

Waking up, your first thought is, Luca was right.

It’s been one of the few things on your mind since your wedding three months ago. Your husband was never overly kind or caring, but he was charming enough to convince you he could give you what you wanted and deserved. But that was just an act. After the first week, he asked you to move into a guest room, stating that he didn’t like having your things mixed in with his in his own house. Then his little comments built up from there, ranging from how you dressed or washed the dishes, each digging a little deeper than the last.

As you wonder what would happen if you just laid in bed all day, ignoring the person you vowed your life to, your body betrays you. Running out of bed as fast as you can, you barely reach the bathroom before you get sick. It’s the second day in a row, and as you lean your head against the cool tile in the bathroom, you calculate dates in your head. It could be PMS, or it could be the beginning of something else.

Rummaging through your small bag in the guest bathroom vanity, you pull a pregnancy test out. You bought a few after getting married, hoping to start a family with the man you thought you could love.

✯✯✯✯✯

You smile as you walk inside. The sun is setting, and the picture hidden in your back pocket makes you feel weightless and giddy despite the constant nausea you’ve had the past two days.

“Hi,” you greet, wrapping your arms around your husband’s shoulders as he sits at the table.

He squirms beneath you until you step back. “Do you mind? I’m in the middle of something, and I don’t expect dinner anytime soon.”

Your smile drops momentarily, and then you remember your news.

“I have something to tell you.”

Turning toward you, he crosses his arms. “Well you’ve certainly distracted me already, so go ahead.”

You take a deep breath before saying, “I’m pregnant.”

Saying it aloud makes it feel more real, and your cheeks seem to squish higher as your smile grows. Expecting a hug or a hand on your stomach, you hadn’t considered any alternatives.

“You’re kidding,” he huffs.

“No,” you say quietly, pulling your hands over your stomach. “I took a test and went to the OB to get checked.”

He stands, shaking his head with a clenched jaw. “That’s not going to work for me.”

Furrowing your brows, you don’t have time to respond before he takes an angry step toward you.

“What about me and all of my plans for life? I can’t do what I need to do with a pregnant wife and a kid running around my feet.”

“I-“

“You didn’t do anything apparently!”

 He raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose before walking around you. Tears gather in your eyes as you watch him retreat down the hall, and you stand motionless, unable to fight them or wipe them away.

When he returns with a smile, you think an apology may accompany it.

“Thank God for pre-nups,” he says happily. “Get out.”

“What?” you ask, your voice breaking.

“You heard me. It’s my house. I’ll call my lawyer in the morning and get the divorce pushed through as fast as possible.”

“You’re divorcing me because you got me pregnant?” you ask, tears streaming down your face.

“I don’t want kids,” he answers. “You need to leave.”

You open and close your mouth, failing to speak before he sets a hand on your shoulder and turns you toward the door.

“Don’t touch me,” you snap, twisting your shoulder out of his grip. “This is low, even for you.”

“I’m not the one who ruined everything,” he seethes.

“No, you’re the one who tried to control it until you couldn’t anymore.”

Walking backward as you argue, you nearly trip over the step onto the porch, stumbling as he slams the door in your face. Taking shallow breaths against the panic building in your chest, you turn and walk toward the driveway, unsure where to go or who you can call.

The door opens, and he yells your name before slamming it again. One of your bags has been tossed onto the sidewalk, and you gather it in your arms before approaching your car.

There’s only one person in the world that you want to see right now, and he’s the one who warned you against doing this.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Nah, man, it’s all about the QB’s wrist,” Luca says, imitating the football highlight on the screen.

“So that miraculous catch had nothing to do with it?” Deacon asks with a smile.

“Not a thing.”

Someone knocks on the door, and the two small raps are barely heard over the television. Luca stands, pointing at Deacon and telling him not to be a sore loser when he comes back, and the quarterback proves he’s the MVP. Deacon shakes his head and makes no such promise.

As soon as he opens the door, Luca’s smile falls.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your tears haven’t slowed since they started, and standing on Luca’s doorstep, you can feel your chest tightening at the panic you feel. Distraught and with nowhere else to go, you hope that Luca is home and willing to help despite his efforts to warn you away from your now ex.

He opens the door with a bright smile that disappears immediately upon seeing your tear-soaked face and short breaths.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize breathlessly as a new set of sobs rack your body.

Luca pulls you into his arms, wrapping one around your waist as the other cradles your head against his shoulder. Being best friends, you’ve hugged Luca before, but this hug is different.

He pulls you inside, closes the door behind you, and says something over your shoulder. Assuming Street is home, you tuck your head closer to Luca and hope he can hold you together.

“Hey, talk to me,” Luca says quietly, ducking his head to speak in your ear.

You pull back, taking a shaky breath and harshly wiping your face. Luca gently knocks your hands away, using softer touches to clear the tears from your cheeks. He smiles sadly at you when you look up.

“He kicked me out,” you admit. “He told me that he’d send divorce papers in the morning and threw a bag of my stuff out behind me.”

“Did he touch you?” Luca demands.

“He put his hand on my shoulder, but not really,” you promise. “I shouldn’t have-“

“Hey, don’t do that,” Luca interjects.

“What?”

“Don’t try to blame yourself, this wasn’t your fault.”

You nod, prepared to tell him it is, but he interrupts you, telling you he will get you some water.

“This is my buddy, Deacon,” Luca says, pointing to a handsome man on the couch. He tells Deacon your name before steering you to sit beside him.

“Sorry for overhearing,” Deacon says kindly. “But Luca is right, based on that conversation, it seems like your ex is entirely to blame.”

You sniff, a sad smile present as you say, “At least partially.”

 Deacon tilts his head, a question in his eyes – they catch your attention, big, brown, and caring. 

“He kicked me out because I told him I was pregnant,” you admit, pulling a pillow into your lap. “Apparently he wasn’t ready for that. Said I would be in the way of him and his plans, and the baby would too.”

Deacon lays a hand over yours, a look you can’t quite place on his face. It’s not sorrow or pity, but something kind in his eyes. You smile at him, giving him your attention instead of the pillow.

“How far along are you? If you don’t mind me asking,” Deacon asks.

“You’re pregnant?” Luca asks incredulously, returning from the kitchen with three glasses of water. He sets them on the table before sitting beside you. “You didn’t tell me!”

“I just found out today,” you explain. “That’s why he kicked me out.”

“Child,” Luca mutters angrily.

Deacon smiles and gives you a look that says he agrees.

“The doctor said I was about six weeks.” You remove the ultrasound from your back pocket, a small crease across the top corner from the eventful evening. “I’d been nauseous for a few weeks, but the morning sickness started so I took a test.”

“Congratulations,” Deacon says, squeezing your hand where it lays beneath his.

“You know I’m here to help you with anything you need right?” Luca asks. “You and your baby always have a place here.”

You nod, whispering your thanks. “I don’t want to put you out for too long, though.”

“Take all the time you need.”

Deacon’s hand over yours provides an extra level of comfort you haven’t felt in a very long time, and when you look over at him, his eyes are kinder than your ex ever was.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I thought girls made lists of baby names in like middle school,” Luca says, passing you a bowl of your favorite snack.

You shrug. “Well, the name depends on if it’s a boy or girl, but I just don’t really have any ideas right now.”

“You’re a mom now, you’ll find the right name when the time is right,” Deacon tells you, sitting on your other side.

You find yourself in this position often since moving into Street’s room while he is out of town on a training trip. Luca and Deacon seem to arrange themselves around you like guards, protecting you from everything they can.

“When’s your next check-up?” Deacon asks.

“Tomorrow.”

“And you’ll-“

“Keep both of you updated, yes I will,” you finish, smiling as you lean toward him slightly.

“How are you holding up?” Luca asks, hoping you’re as happy about the finalized divorce now as you were when the paper was dropped off.

“I feel better now than I ever did with him,” you admit. “It’s hard not knowing what I’ll do next, but it’s better this way. You were right all along, Luca.”

Luca sighs, shaking his head even as he smiles. “I hate that I was right. And I’d never use that against you.”

“I know. But maybe I’ll take your advice to heart next time.”

“You won’t,” Deacon and Luca say together.

Your jaw drops as you look at Deacon.

“You don’t even know me.”

“Not yet,” he replies, winking at you.

You turn away quickly, but you feel him move as he laughs beside you. Deacon cares for you, and each time he learns something new about you, he falls deeper into his need to be by you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Based on your symptoms, the severe nausea and vomiting and the dizziness, I feel confident in saying you’re suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum,” your doctor says, looking at your paperwork. “But this isn’t unusual or overly dangerous, so rest assured. I recommend staying hydrated, eating nutritious foods, and eating enough of them. And I know you’re in a unique position here but try to limit stress as much as possible. Your baby is healthy and we’re going to keep it that way.”

You thank your doctor, then receive a paper of tips and tricks, and recommend nutrients before leaving. Deacon invited you to his house for dinner while Luca attends a dinner with some friends. You’re nervous, so you knock rather than walking right in as you do at Luca’s house.

“Hey,” Deacon says, smiling as he leads you inside. “You can just walk in, you know.”

You nod, fiddling with your fingers as you follow Deacon through his house and to the kitchen. Sitting on a stool at the island, you engage in easy conversation with Deacon while he finishes preparing the food. 

“How’d your appointment go? What’d the doctor say?” he asks as he returns from setting the table.

“I’m perfectly healthy,” you lie, a small closed-lip smile accompanying your words.

Deacon’s eyes narrow, but he nods and gestures toward the table. You stand and instantly grow dizzy, keeping one hand on the seat behind you as you close your eyes and waver.

Deacon’s hands grip your biceps, gently tilting you forward to rest against him. After a moment, you blink against his chest and stand up. Deacon’s hands hover beside you as he watches you worriedly.

“What did they really say?” he demands, his voice gentle but firm.

“They think I have hyperemesis gravidarum; so I get really nauseous and dizzy,” you answer quietly, wishing Deacon was still holding you.

“Any recommendations of what to do?”

You nod as you answer, “I have a list of nutrients and foods I should consume, and I’m supposed to reduce stress and take it slow.”

“We can do that.”

Shaking your head, you drop your eyes away from Deacon. “I don’t know how. I don’t have a home and I’m divorced, there’s no one to support me,” you ramble.

“That’s not true,” Deacon says, raising your chin with his hand. “No, you don’t have your own house right now, but you also don’t need to be alone. And you have plenty of people supporting you: Luca and I are here for you, 24/7.”

“But you shouldn’t have to be.”

“We want to,” Deacon promises, looking intently into your eyes. “I want to be right beside you for this, so will you please let me?”

You lean toward him, relishing in the warmth of his skin against yours. “Yes. I- I do need to find somewhere to go before Street comes back, though. I doubt he wants to share his room with a pregnant lady.”

Deacon chuckles, swiping his thumb below your bottom lip. “You’ll always have a place here. Just say the word.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Every move you make is watched, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. Luca has always been a good friend and protective, and those characteristics multiply each day of your pregnancy. Similarly, Deacon has grown very close to you and seems just as protective as Luca, if not more prepared to force you to slow down or eat something.

Yes, they hover and crowd you, but you like being near them. Deacon’s consistent care, comfort, and protectiveness prove that not all men are bad. Your ex was the wrong person for you, but Deacon has been at your side since the night you left him.

Whenever you feel sick or weak, even if you simply don’t feel like doing something for yourself, Deacon is right beside you, ready and willing to do all that and more.

Though your emotions are still a wreck, and a part of you constantly wonders why you aren’t good enough, the memories of your ex are slowly being replaced with images of Deacon and Luca laughing with you, comforting you, and arguing over whether you’re having a boy or girl.

“Have you eaten today?” Deacon asks as he walks in the front door.

“Several times,” you answer, sitting up from your relaxed position on the couch. “Thank you for leaving so much food, you didn’t have to do that.”

Deacon has given the look enough times that you understand his sideways glance as meaning, “I want to.”

“Are you going out with Luca tonight? He texted that the team is doing something.”

Deacon shakes his head, and you feel terrible for keeping him away from his friends.

“Please go. I don’t want you to think that because I’m staying with you that you can’t do anything.”

“It’s not that. I just know you don’t always feel great, so I want to make sure I’m close. You’ve never made me feel like I have to do anything.”

“Then you should go out tonight.”

Your words slow toward the end of your sentence, your head spinning as you grip the couch cushion to ground yourself. The dizziness comes and goes, much less reliable than the nausea, which is relentless.

Deacon wipes his hands on a kitchen towel before kneeling before you. He holds your wrists, rubbing comforting circles over your pulse point.

“Take some deep breaths,” he reminds you gently.

You nod, trying to focus on Deacon’s face, and sit upright. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll get you some water.”

“And then go to dinner with your friends?”

Deacon sighs, waiting to reply until he returns to your side, hovering as you sip the water.

“Why don’t you just come with me? I don’t like the idea of leaving you with those dizzy spells,” he suggests.

“I’ll be okay.” Deacon isn’t wavering, so you add, “And I’ll text you updates. Call you if anything changes.”

“Regular updates,” Deacon amends. “And if I call, you have to answer.”

You smile at his worry, his concern often reading as demanding.

“I promise.”

Deacon purses his lips before nodding, asking if you need anything before walking down the hall to change. As he walks out the door, you wonder what it would be like to go somewhere with him, enjoy a night out under his arm, and talk to him about anything. You’ve never had that before, not even with your ex.

Deacon spends his drive wondering how to convince you that you’re not a burden, that he cares about you and wants you by his side. More than your health, he has feelings for you that he can’t quite explain, and his heart and mind only calm when you’re at his side.

As he parks at the restaurant, receiving the first update from you, he smiles and decides he needs to tell you.

“Deac! I thought you weren’t coming,” Street calls, waving him over to the table.

Luca looks over his shoulder, searching for you. Deacon gives a small nod, an answer that you’re fine. You don’t leave their minds through the night, and Luca quickly notices how often and how regularly Deacon checks his phone.

He smiles, wishing he’d thought to introduce you sooner.

✯✯✯✯✯

In Deacon’s house, sitting alone in a dark room, your emotions and hormones get the best of you. Since the divorce papers came, you’ve been convinced you are unworthy of the type of love you crave, destined to be alone forever. Tears begin falling as your mind races, and your nausea worsens with the emotional storm within you.

Deacon is smiling as he walks in, a to-go container from your favorite restaurant in his hand. The living room is dark and empty, but there’s a faint glow of light under the door that he’s come to refer to as yours. He sets the food in the kitchen and walks toward you like he’s being pulled in by a magnet.

After knocking quietly, Deacon hears a quick sniff and opens the door without hesitation. He searches the room, his eyes softening when he sees you. Curled in on yourself and crying, Deacon wordlessly approaches the bed and pulls you into his arms. His warm embrace and his hand rubbing up and down your spine make everything seem better, and it’s far too easy to be vulnerable with him.

“Why am I not good enough?” you whisper against his chest.

“You are,” he answers firmly. “He was a child who didn’t know what he was losing. But that doesn’t have anything to do with your worth.”

At the sound of Deacon’s voice, you feel movement in your stomach and lean back, bringing your hand to your bump as you feel another kick – the first of many, you hope. Your eyes widen as Deacon tilts his head, wondering why you pulled away. Gently, you pull Deacon’s hand to your stomach, and he feels it too.

“Hey, little guy,” he says with a smile, spreading his hand over more of your growing stomach.

“Guy?” you repeat.

Deacon nods, rubbing his thumb over your shirt.

“Why did you stay?” you ask. “The first night, when I came to ask Luca for help.”

Deacon’s eyes raise to yours as he answers, “I know when something is worth it. And you’re pretty irresistible.”

You smile, ducking your pleased look away from Deacon. “I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning. Would you maybe be able to come with me? I just don’t want to be alone.”

“Absolutely. I’ll go wherever you want me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The following morning, Deacon lets you hold his hand and play with his fingers from your spot in the passenger seat and the waiting room. When the doctor comes into the room, asking about you and your symptoms, Deacon offers to give you privacy, but you cling to his hand before he can step away.

“Please stay.”

Deacon nods, his hand squeezing yours as he returns to his spot beside the exam table. Watching the screen during the ultrasound, Deacon smiles at the sight of your baby and the healthy heartbeat echoing in the room.

“You two have a very lucky, healthy baby,” the ultrasound tech announces.

Neither you nor Deacon corrects her.

“Keep that stress low and do as little as you can,” your doctor reminds you. “I’m not putting you on bedrest but if the nausea or dizziness worsen, I will.”

“She’ll be calm and comfortable, doc,” Deacon replies, and you believe him.

✯✯✯✯✯

With no good way to thank Deacon and Luca for everything they have done for you, you decide to surprise them at work in the middle of a long day. Carrying a few pizzas from Luca’s favorite spot, you walk into the station with a visitor’s badge adhered to your shirt.

Luca sees you first, jogging toward you and drawing Deacon’s attention. When Deacon sees you walking and carrying things, he comes to your other side.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Luca frets as he takes the pizza from you.

“I just wanted to do something nice. You’ve both done so much for me,” you explain.

Deacon’s hand wraps around your arm as he leads you toward a comfortable chair.

“You don’t have to thank us,” he tells you.

“I missed you.”

Deacon can’t argue with your kind words or soft smile, so he shakes his head and helps you sit before kneeling beside you.

“Thanks for the pizza,” Deacon says.

“Go eat some. I’ll go home as soon as I find the willpower to get up.”

Deacon chuckles, brushing his fingers over your cheekbone.

“Who is that?” Tan asks, watching Luca return to your side.

“Luca’s best friend,” Street answers. “Her ex-husband kicked her out when she got pregnant, and Luca and Deacon haven’t left her side since.”

“How do you know that?” Hondo inquires.

“I live with Luca; I see her all the time.”

Luca removes himself from your side, retrieving the pizza and delivering it to the rest of the team.

“Okay, so she’s Luca’s best friend, but why is Deacon so close to her?” Tan points out.

At Luca’s look, both Hondo and Tan realize. Deacon is protective, caring, loyal, and radiates comfort; he’s everything you need given your situation.

“Heard anything else about the dad?” Street whispers to Luca.

Luca’s jaw tightens before he says, “He stopped calling. Apparently he finally got the idea.”

“Are you ever going to tell her about how many times he tried to contact her?”

“Not unless I have to.”

“You’re a good friend, Luca.”

Street claps Luca’s shoulder before walking away. When you tap Luca’s shoulder to ask for a hug, he forgets the anger brought up by the idea of someone intentionally hurting you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Can you help me with something?” you ask, standing in the doorway of Deacon’s small home office.

“Anything,” he answers, beckoning you inside.

He pulls a chair beside him, taking your hands as you lower yourself into it.

“I want to find my own place. But, if it’s okay, I’d like to be close to you.”

Deacon nods before clarifying, “I’ll help, but you’re staying with me until after the baby is born.”

“You’ve already done more than enough.”

Deacon’s hand finds its place on your bump, a touch you’ve grown familiar with as his other hand cups your chin.

“You are braver and stronger and more worthy of being loved than you will ever understand. Let me do this for you.”

Your smile grows as you look up at Deacon, your baby kicking excitedly against his hand.

“He likes you,” you mutter, unconsciously accepting Deacon’s idea that it’s a boy. “Almost as much as I love you.”

Deacon’s eyes widen beautifully as he smiles, ducking his head toward yours. You meet him in the middle, kissing him slowly with love and gratitude. You laugh against your lips when it feels like someone is doing backflips in your belly.

“We’ve got a lot to thank this little guy for,” Deacon says, dropping both hands to your stomach.

“And if it’s a girl?”

“I’ll spoil her like I spoil you… if you’ll let me.”

“I’m never letting you go, Deacon Kay.”

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯✯✯✯

Bonus:

After Deacon and Luca accompany you to tour a small house near Deacon's place, you realize that they need more than pizza for all they’ve done for you. While they’re at work, you busy yourself in Deacon’s kitchen, making a dinner you think they will both enjoy and cleaning as you go.

“This doesn’t look like low stress and minimal activity,” Deacon chides as the door closes behind you.

You hum, keeping your back to him. Deacon approaches behind you, his warmth pressing against your back as his hands slip over your waist and settle below your bump. With his chin on your shoulder, Deacon lowers his voice, asking how your day was and what you’re doing.

Before you can answer, Deacon straightens up, using his hands to lift your stomach, easing the load on your back and hips. Sighing, you lean back against him and take a few deep breaths, enjoying the lightness and temporary relief.

“Thank you. And I’m making you and Luca dinner,” you breathe out.

“Ready?” Deacon mutters, waiting for your nod before slowly lowering his hands.

“I love you,” you say, turning toward Deacon.

“Luca has a food truck, yet you feel the need to cook for him. He doesn’t sound like a very good friend,” Deacon jokes.

“You’re not a very good friend either.”

Deacon’s brows furrow and you lower your voice to add, “Because we were never just friends, were we?”

You wish you could hug Deacon as closely as you want to, and he seems to know. Turning you to the side, Deacon hugs you from a non-traditional angle, holding you as close as possible.

“I love you,” he responds, kissing your head. “Both of you.”