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msmk11 · 6 months ago

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Best Friend’s Mom

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy’s best friend)

Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Word count: 5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends’ mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mention of absent parent, light smut

Summary: You get invited to spend spring break with your best friends Tommy and Billy Maximoff and their mother, Wanda. But Wanda is not just any mom you soon discover. She’s a MILF. And god do you want her badly. Only in your wildest dreams could she ever be attracted to you too- or so you think.

A/n: It’s finally here per your votes on my poll! This is only part one of (probably) two however. A) I’ve never written for Wanda before so I’m having a harder time saying what I need to succinctly. B) I have the fattest crush on Wanda so perhaps this is just my rambles. I hope you enjoy!!

When your twin best friends Billy and Tommy had invited you on their beach family vacation over spring break, you had obviously said yes. The thoughts of sand between your toes, the warm sun on your skin, and the calming crash of the waves sent a shiver of excitement down your spine every time you thought of it. Of course, you were also just excited to spend time with your best friends, but the beach was at the forefront of your mind. Though your daydreams had already crafted a vision of perfection for this trip, the reality, surprisingly, far exceeded it. This was all thanks to one sinfully sexy Ms. Maximoff.

From the early budding of your friendship, you knew that Billy and Tommy adored their mother- especially since their father had left them all behind at a young age. Their descriptions made her seem sweet, loving, and remarkably kind. While your first introduction certainly reassured these claims, it was her beauty that struck you. Perhaps in your head you had imagined someone a little more….motherly looking… rather than the mortal goddess before you. With the way her auburn hair fell down past her shoulders in waves, her blue skinny jeans hugged the curve of her waist just right, and her soft, pink lips were always adorned with a smile, you were certain she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

When you, Billy, and Tommy pull up to the beach house in their small gray sedan and a redheaded woman, who you assume to be their mother, comes out, you are dumbfounded to say the least. Before her boys can even get their luggage from the trunk, she sweeps each into a bearhug and exclaims, “hello moya lyubov!”

Their unconvincing protests fall on deaf ears as she continues to smother them in love. You’re sure to tease them about it later.

When Ms. Maximoff breaks away from Billy and Tommy, she turns her attention to you and smiles sweetly. As she makes her way towards you, your heart begins to beat quickly as you realize how beautiful she is.

“Hello, dear,” she greets, “Billy and Tommy have told me all about you.”

Before you can respond, she too pulls you in for a hug. The burn of her touch, even through your shirt, is almost too much to bear, and her flowery perfume that fills your nostrils makes your head feel all woozy.

As she pulls away you can feel your cheeks burning and you try to act calm despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Maximoff, and thank you for letting me stay with you all this week.”

“Oh honey, no. Please don’t call me Ms. Maximoff, it makes me feel old. Wanda is just fine. And the pleasure is all mine, really. I’ve been eager to meet you ever since you became friends with my boys at the start of college.”

“Well, I’ve uh- been eager to meet you too. Billy and Tommy speak very highly of you.”

Wanda nearly coos as she turns to her sons brightly, “Awe moya lyubov, you two are too sweet.”

Your best friends flush red with embarrassment and the glares they shoot you as their mother hugs them again let you know they’ll berate you later for making them “look uncool.” Finally, Wanda pulls away and she urges you all to grab your stuff and follow her into the house.

Once inside, Billy and Tommy kick off their shoes haphazardly and start down the hall to the bedroom they’re sharing (so you can have a room to yourself). You, conversely, slip your shoes off gently and leave them by the door neatly. Wanda waits by your side and then motions for you to follow her once you’re done.

On your way to your room, Wanda gives you a mini tour. You pass through the small kitchen with light wooden floors, white cabinets, and seafoam blue walls. The living room is similarly beachy and charming, with big glass doors opening onto a wooden porch in the back and a smattering of brightly colored furniture organized around the room. At the end of the hall from the living room sits three doors, each leading into a separate room.

“Here we go, honey. Your room is this door on the left, the bathroom is the door in front of us, and my bedroom is here on the right. I hope you don’t mind being my neighbor and sharing a bathroom with me, but I figured it’d be better for the boys to have the master this week since they’re sharing a space,” Wanda tells you.

“No of course not Ms. M- Wanda. I feel bad that Billy and Tommy have to share, though. I honestly don’t mind sleeping on the couch!”

Wanda reacts as though you’ve just slapped her, “Oh honey, no! I’d never make a guest sleep on the couch! I want to make this place as comfortable for you as possible. Plus, the boys will be just fine. They spent the first half of their lives sharing a room, they’ll manage.”

You chuckle a little and smile kindly at her, “Well, thank you, seriously, I appreciate it.”

She waves her hand as if it’s nothing and then motions for you to go see your room, “I’m going to go finish up dinner honey, but let me know if you need anything.”

Wanda saunters off down the hall and you curse her for even walking sexily. Shaking yourself out of a daze, you go inside your room and promptly shut the door behind you. You drop your bag on the floor and then throw yourself on top of the fluffy, blue comforter, groaning into the mattress. You really hope you can survive this trip.

*****

It seems you must’ve fallen asleep on the comfy bed that feels more like a cloud, because suddenly you are jostled awake by a body landing on top of you. You let out an oomph as the air is expelled from your lungs and the weight of Tommy’s body settles on top of you.

“Tommy, you big lug,” you groan, “get off of me.”

You push the boy off of you and he rolls onto his back, “Had to wake you up somehow, you freak. I kept prodding you and nothing happened besides your continued snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” You protest, propping yourself up on your elbow and looking at him.

“Do too” he teases, “mouth open and all.” He then opens his mouth dramatically and lets out an obnoxiously loud snore.

You smack his stomach a little and he groans. In retaliation, he sweeps your elbow out from under you, forcing you to fall flat on your back again.

“Prick,” you grumble.

“Hey you should be a lot nicer to me, you know. I could’ve left you here to sleep and starve.”

You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, “I doubt your mom would allow that.”

The brunette snorts, “Touché.” He stands up and nods his head towards the door, “let’s go eat.”

You and Tommy make your way down the hall to the kitchen, playfully teasing and shoving each other a little on the way. When the longer-haired brother gives you an especially playful push into the kitchen, you nearly fall right in front of Wanda. You’re a little more than embarrassed, so you try to hide your face from her by turning back towards Tommy and glaring. He’s smirking until he’s not- when Wanda gently chides him for “being rude to the guest.”

“Mom she’s our friend, she can take it,” Tommy reminds her.

“Plus,” you add, “I can take either of them, easily, any day. I was just caught off guard there.”

“Really now?” Billy challenges.

You hum in confirmation.

“Fine, then I suggest a game of chicken after dinner.”

“Who’d be our fourth player?” you ask, confused.

“I will,” Wanda answers with a slight smirk, “I love a good challenge. And I’d love to see you beat my boys.”

“Oh you’re so on, Mom,” Tommy answers with a grin.

The twins look at each other with evil, cocky smirks on their face, and you can tell that they’re confident they’re going to win. You look at Wanda nervously because a) you don’t want to lose to the twins and b) you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of her. Her confident smirk, however, so similar to her sons, eases your fears just a little.

They come storming back after dinner, however, when you first see Wanda in a bikini. Though you wouldn’t say it’s skimpy by any means, for goodness sake she’s around her sons, it still certainly shows a lot of skin. The butterflies are beating around aggressively in your stomach as you admire the red swimsuit she’s wearing- the color compliments her skin tone so very well, the top shows just enough cleavage to leave something to the imagination, and the bottoms hang low on her hips, flaunting her soft, white stomach.

You become even more nervous when you realize that you are going to have to sit on top of Wanda’s shoulders. While Billy and Tommy jump into the pool, you cautiously discard your towel on a chair and turn to Wanda, “I didn’t even think about the fact that I’d have to be on your shoulders. We can just call off the game, I’ll probably be too heavy for you.”

The redhead shakes her head and chuckles, stepping a little closer to you, “Honey, I know how chicken works. I wouldn’t have offered to play if I didn’t think I could carry you. I’m a lot stronger than I look, you know.”

You want to believe her, but you are just so nervous about hurting her that you can only weakly smile and nod.

“Hey, are we playing chicken, or are you two too chicken?” Billy calls out mockingly.

“Oh we’re more than ready, boys,” Wanda answers confidently, hands on her hips.

She walks forward and slides down into the pool, the turquoise water riding up to her waist. She beckons you over to the edge, “I’ll stand here and you can hop on, since I know you’re a little nervous about getting on my shoulders.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Wanda turns around and you step forward. Tentatively, you hook one leg over her right shoulder and her hand immediately comes up to grab your thigh. You tense at the skin to skin contact and it sends a little shiver up your spine. Thankfully, Wanda can’t see your face, so she hopefully just assumes that you're nervous about getting on her shoulders and not for….. other….. reasons.

“You’ve got it, honey,” She encourages you sweetly.

You quickly lift your other leg up and hook it around her left shoulder. She grabs your other thigh tightly and squeezes it, as if reassuring you.

Problem one million- Wanda being this strong is really hot, adding to your already insanely high level of attraction towards her. You fear you might pass out on the spot.

“Good to go?” The redhead asks you softly, craning her neck a little to look up at you. Her green eyes are soft but determined and they send a surge of confidence through you, “Yes, I’m ready to take them down.”

Wanda easily wades through the water over to Billy and Tommy, who have situated themselves with Tommy as the anchor and Billy on top. You look your opponent in the eye and smirk, sending him a playful glare, “You’re on, Maximoff.”

Billy only scoffs at you cockily and then waves you forward, challenging you to go up against him. Wanda and Tommy move in towards one another and you stick your arms out, bracing for Billy’s attack. He comes in swinging, bringing his right arm down to your side trying to shove you off. You are braced for it, though, and Wanda’s strong grip keeps you in place. You retaliate by grabbing his wrists, simultaneously trying to keep him from hitting you and also jostle him around. After a few seconds of back and forth, Billy rips his left arm free, the force causing you to wobble a little.

“I got you, honey,” Wanda calls up to you when she hears the sharp breath you take.

You shake it off and head towards Billy with double the amount of determination. Letting go of his other wrist, you go for the shoulders and give him a hard shove. This alone does not push Billy off of Tommy’s shoulders. However, the former twin’s movement throws the latter twin off balance, sending them plummeting backwards into the water. They land with a loud splash and you and Wanda cheer loudly. When the boys come up for air they are spluttering and groan at your victory.

“You two are stronger than you look,” Tommy concedes.

“Never underestimate your mother,” Wanda chides teasingly. She then looks up at you, “do you want me to take you back over to the edge to hop off?”

Your newfound victory, especially with Wanda on your team, has caused your confidence to soar. You shake your head, “No that’s okay, you can just drop me in the water.”

The redhead smiles sweetly, “If you insist.”

Before you have a second to think, she is lurching backwards, sending you both crashing into the water just as the twins had. The water is much colder than you anticipated and it overcomes your senses as you flail around. When you breach the surface you let out a gasp of air and shake the water from your eyes, “Holy fuck that’s cold!” you shout, then immediately cringe for cursing in front of Wanda.

Luckily she only chuckles, an evil glint in her eye, “You asked to be thrown in, honey. I was only doing what you asked.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” you answer with a playful pout.

She only laughs again, her head thrown back a little, and it’s quite the sight to see.

*****

The next morning, you wake to soft, yellow sunbeams falling across your face. The sound of gentle waves can be heard just slightly through your window at the back of the house and you sigh contentedly. You could get used to this. After laying sprawled across your bed for an undetermined amount of time, you finally decide it’s time to get up. You wander down the hall into the kitchen, on the hunt for food, and find Wanda sitting at the kitchen table, book in one hand, coffee in another, clad in a silk, white slip nightgown.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?” She asks sweetly.

“Like a baby.”

“I’m glad to hear it. What can I make you for breakfast?” Wanda asks, already rising from her chair.

“Oh, Wanda, no. Please. You don’t need to make anything. I can just snack on something for the pantry. I don’t usually have much for breakfast anyways.”

Wanda tsks at you and waves you off, “Well that just won’t do honey. It’s more important than ever for you to fuel your body at this age- what with all the studying, busy work schedules and… other things.”

Wanda winks at you then and you choke on your spit a little. Had she just implied…? No, she couldn’t have. But…

“Yes, well, school and work keep me busy enough to not have time for other things, Wanda. And I make up for a light breakfast with more filling meals later.”

It seems as though Wanda ignores the latter fact as she asks how you like your eggs and pulls out a frying pan.

“Well, honey, I really can’t believe what you’re saying. Someone as beautiful and sweet as you must be overwhelmed with social obligations- parties, friends, dating.”

You try to hide the blush on your cheeks from Wanda’s flattery, “No really, Wanda, I don’t have all that many. And I’m happy with my small group of friends.”

“You know,” Wanda starts, turning towards you as the eggs cook, resting her back against the counter, “I have to ask, and I hope you’ll excuse me for wondering, but I wanted to know if you were seeing or were interested in one of my boys. You just seem awfully close and I can’t help but wonder…”

You burst out in laughter at the heinous suggestion and Wanda’s eyebrows raise in bewilderment, “Oh god, no. Never in a million years would I date them.”

Wanda purses her lips and you realize how that sounded, “Please don’t take that the wrong way, Wanda. You’ve raised such lovely boys, you know. And I love them dearly, but not like that. They’re like my brothers. And even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t go for them. Or any guy for that matter… I like women.”

All the confusion and maybe even a little defensiveness drains from Wanda’s face at your confession and she visibly relaxes. She turns back to the eggs and picks up the pan, “I see. Well, the boys are grateful to have you in any way they can.” She walks over and sets the plate down in front of you, “And that makes me pretty grateful too.”

As she stays behind you, Wanda tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

“My pleasure, Detka.”

*****

The tension is so thick it is unbearable as you sit on a chair across from Wanda. At this point, you know it isn’t hot enough outside for you to be feeling this flushed. Rather, the way Wanda keeps looking over at you not so sneakily as she nurses her wine is leaving you all hot and bothered. When she takes another sip you are entranced by the way her soft, red lips wrap around the rim of the glass. And when she pulls the cup away, a drop of the wine is still on her lips. You nearly gasp as her tongue darts out, seemingly in slow motion, to lick it up. At this point, you know your staring is obvious, but Wanda just looks so pretty in that sundress, and one too many glasses of wine has left you feeling a little reckless.

“Want another sip?” Wanda muses teasingly, pointing the glass towards you.

“Oh no, I’m okay, Wanda, thank you.” You answer softly.

“Come on detka,” she says huskily, “just come have one more sip. I don’t think I can finish it alone.”

Really, you can never say no to this woman, so you oblige, standing from your chair and walking over to sit down next to her. Her perfume wafts over you as she leans in and hands you the glass, and you feel woozy.

You take a sip of what little wine is left in the glass and swallow as Wanda watches you the whole time. You turn to the redhead and hand her the glass. She sets it on the table without once breaking eye contact with you.

“Oh Detka, you have a little drop of wine on your lip. Let me get that right-“

She reaches out and cups your cheek. Instead of wiping it away with her thumb like you think she will, she leans in and captures your bottom lip between your own. She sucks on it softly and you nearly moan. Before you can really process what’s happening, she’s pulled away, a knowing smirk on her face, “There baby, all better now.”

“W-Wanda- I.” You stutter.

“Hmm?” She asks, sickeningly sweetly.

“Can you do that again?”

“Do what again, baby?”

You almost whine at her teasing, “Kiss me, Wanda. Please.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispers, already pressing her lips to yours again.

You sigh deeply as the flame rekindles in your belly and your heart beats faster. Your kisses are fast and sloppy, your tongues battling for dominance. Keeping your lips on hers you shuffle, straddling your legs on either side of her lap as you wrap your arms around her shoulders.

Wanda groans and grabs your hips tightly, digging her nails into the slight bit of bare skin showing as your shirt rides up.

She tastes like chocolate strawberries and wine and you chase her lips like you’ve been starved for days. Wanda just smells so good, and feels so good, and tastes so good that you’re insatiable. Unknowingly, you rock your hips a little, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through you at the friction between your legs. You moan into her mouth and try it again, this time rolling your hips more aggressively. Combined with Wanda’s kissing, it feels really good.

“Careful Detka, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Wanda warns lowly.

You pull away suddenly, gasping for air, “Wanda, I want this. I- I want you right now. I need you.”

She looks at you intently, those green eyes both soft and loving while also glazed with lust, “you sure, baby? There’s no going back after this.”

“Please,” you say, this time really whining.

“Start with my thigh,” she orders.

You lean back in and kiss Wanda again like before, but this time with the repeated motion of you humping her thigh, chasing your own pleasure. Wanda’s hands slowly travel down your sides, one stopping to grope at your breasts while the other makes it’s way to cup your ass. The added stimulation to your ass and tits makes you moan into her mouth again.

She pulls away and shushes you quietly, “gotta be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear.”

You nod meekly and bite your lip to keep any more moans from slipping out. Wanda takes the chance to place her lips elsewhere, assaulting your neck and exposed collarbone with bites, licks, and sucking. Before you know it, you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, tension building in your belly. Maybe it’s the pace of your hips, or Wanda just has a sense for these things, but she can tell you’re close. Before you can get there, however,

“Wake up. Stop sleeping the day away.”

You are rather rudely awakened, you think, by Billy. His wet hair drips onto your face as he hovers over you, “Come swim with us and quit being boring.”

“But I’m getting my tan on,” you whine.

“You can do that in the water,” he retorts.

When you don’t make any sign of movement, Billy huffs, “You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?”

Before you can protest, the boy grabs your waist and pulls you up, flipping you over his shoulder.

“Billy,” you screech, “Put me down!!”

He ignores you and starts off towards the ocean. You smack his back and flail your legs but that doesn’t stop him. Before you know it you are met with a blast of ice cold water as he flings you into the salty ocean. When you burst to the surface spluttering you send Billy the biggest glare.

“You’re dead meat Maximoff.”

You quickly wade through the water towards Billy and lunge forward. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down into the water with you. You’re a mix of flailing limbs under the water. You get an elbow to Billy’s face and him a blow to your stomach before you both swim upwards and gasp for air. Tommy is there, laughing at you both, so you and Billy share a sneaky look before grabbing him by the ankles and pulling him down too.

Though you may have been peeved at Billy for throwing you into the water, it does feel rather nice on your hot skin. It also curbed your rather lusty thoughts of your best friends’ mother. The three of you stay out in the ocean for awhile, play fighting, throwing a football and diving for seashells. It makes you feel like a bit of a kid again, and you notice the recent stress of exams, school, and work fading away.

After a few hours at the beach, the three of you make your way back to the house. You drag your gear- sunscreen, towels, snorkels, and the likes to the back porch and collapse on some of the patio furniture. Tommy wanders inside for a moment and returns with a few beers for you all to share. As you sip and make light conversation, Wanda appears from the house, a tray of snacks in hand.

“How was the beach moya lyubov?” She asks, setting down the tray in front of you three.

“It was great, Mom. You should’ve joined us,” Tommy replies before stuffing a few carrots in his mouth.

She takes the fourth chair, which happens to be next to yours, “I wanted you all to have your fun. Plus, I’ve been to that beach plenty of times.”

“Next time though,” Billy tells her and Wanda smiles a little.

“Yes, next time.”

You reach forward to grab a cracker off the tray, and you’re not unaware of the way Wanda’s eyes follow you. You lean back again and munch happily on your cracker, trying to not be self conscious under the woman’s stare.

Suddenly, Wanda reaches out and pulls on the strap of your bikini top, “I like this swimsuit, honey. Where’d you get it? I’m looking to buy some new suits so I can throw out my old ones.”

Wanda’s deliberate touch excites you, and you keep your legs crossed to hide the way your thighs sort of squeeze together.

“Uh Target, I think. The boys got their trunks there too.”

She hums softly, “It’s so hard to find flattering suits nowadays don’t you think? Either they’re two thin pieces of fabric that cover nothing at all or they’re boxy, ugly one pieces that do no one any favors.”

You groan loudly, “tell me about it. I think Billy and Tommy almost left me behind when we went shopping because of how long I was taking. Not that I blame them, though I told them it’s also not my fault there are so few good options.”

“Mom, one swimsuit had fur,” Billy says with a shudder.

“Another looked like a disco ball,” Tommy adds, “like are you going to the beach or a strip club?”

You all burst out laughing at the sadly true comparison.

“All I can say is that I really was lucky to find this swimsuit.”

And as you lean forward to grab another cracker you swear you hear Wanda mutter under her breath, “Lucky for me too.”

*****

Much of the rest of your afternoon had been spent on that back patio talking, snacking and playing cards. Dinner had been light, and with a few booze in your body you were feeling pretty good. You’d wandered off to shower after dinner, wanting to get the sunscreen and sand off your body. The hot water and soap in your hair feels amazing, and you are appreciative of the privacy to process all of the thoughts and feelings from the day. You still haven't gotten over the comment you are sure Wanda had made earlier. A part of you wonders if you’d just made it up, your horny mind so desperate to believe that she finds you attractive too. But even though it was just above a whisper, the words echo in your mind loud and clear- “lucky for me too”. How could you make that up?

It feels wrong and, frankly, rather inappropriate to pursue your suspicions further. Wanda could’ve meant anything by what she said.

Maybe she was grateful that you bought that swimsuit, so now she knew where to buy hers too?

Maybe she was grateful she didn’t have to be subject to some ugly swimsuit you’d have been forced to wear.

Or maybe. No. You couldn’t even let yourself consider the possibility of Wanda being attracted to you. That would be a bad idea that would only get you in trouble.

You decide there is only one way to solve the problem.

After your shower, you slip out of the bathroom into your room only scantily clad in your small towel. You firmly shut the door behind you and drop your towel, making your way onto your soft bed. You lay on your back, head resting against the pillows, and spread your legs a little. You’ve been desperate to ease the ache between your legs for hours and you can’t wait any longer. You hope that maybe, if you do this, your horniness will dissolve and you can go about your business the rest of your trip happily.

As your hand trails lower between your legs, you sigh at the pressure very much needed to cure the intense ache. It feels good, really, but you only wish it was Wanda’s hand instead of your own. You shut your eyes and your breaths become heavier as you indulge for a moment, imagining that Wanda was here. You think about the way she’d say your name huskily, how her perfume would invade your nose as she held you close, how her fingers would know exactly how to make you feel good, and in no time, you’ve reached your high. Though you try to be quiet, you can’t help the semi-loud pleas of her name that leave your lips as pleasure wracks through your body.

You collapse back against your pillows, panting and your hands at your side. You can only revel in your bliss for a few moments before there is a knock on your door. You scramble up, your heart beating fast in your chest, feeling as if you’d been caught. You throw on your pajama t-shirt at the end of your bed, and it just barely covers your ass. But you figure it will work well enough to answer the door. You rush over and pull it open, and are shocked to find Wanda on the other side.

“Hey, Wanda, what’s up?” You ask breathlessly.

It’s then that you notice how her pupils are dilated, and that she has this look in her eyes. One so reminiscent of your dream.

“You know if you needed help, Detka, you could’ve just asked. I’m more than happy to help someone as pretty as you.”

#the avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda mcu #milf!wanda maximoff #fluff #semi smut

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httpsleclerc · 1 month ago

Text

somewhere in switzerland

synopsis: Mick Schumacher is down sososo bad for his girlfriend and everything she does!

warnings: none I don't think?? maybe pregnancy !

a/n: Mick and Vettel!reader my babies <33 also!! they're parents here because I said so and I am SO AWARE that Sebastian and Hanna's ages do not match up but that is not my problem right now!

word count: 2k words !

my masterlist!

No one had ever known why, but everywhere you went, everyone loved you. Maybe it was because you were the carbon copy of your dad, a positive ray of sunshine which broke up the heaviest of clouds on the darkest and rainiest of days, it was like you were an angel on earth, and Mick Schumacher kissed the very ground you walked on. It would have been impossible for him to not fall in love with you, you were so genuine, so kind - He couldn't point his finger on why, but something about you made him want to wrap you up in bubble wrap and protect your precious attitude from the big, bad harsh world, even though you were well acquainted with just how cruel the world could be.

You grew up with as minimal spotlight on your childhood as Sebastian and Hanna could protect you from, but it wasn't always possible for them to be around and protect you 24/7 - The pressure was sometimes unbearable, you were expected to want to follow down the same career path as your father, which you did, but you wanted to do it on your own accord because this was your passion as well as his, you could make a name for yourself without needing much assistance from your dad and Sebastian made sure that you knew you could do this for yourself. Your parents knew that you wanted this so badly, but because you were a girl, you would face so many more hurdles than a male would trying to get into this sport, all because you were a girl. However, all the hardships you faced on your route to formula one did not deter your infectious, positive spirit - As seen by how the entire grid almost worshipped the ground you walked on.

I mean, how could you not?

You, Y/N Vettel, the paddock princess, the golden shilling of Red Bull Racing when it came to performance, despite your treatment from your team principal and your teammates father - It never deterred you from being the kindest soul to grace the earth. Even in your current championship battle with Max, you both held enormous amounts of respect for each other, having almost grown up together.

And that was what made Mick Schumacher the luckiest man alive. He was lucky, and he knew it - Lucky to be on this earth at the same time as you, lucky to have met you while your fathers competed together, lucky to have told you that he loved you at the age of 14, and here you were over 10 years later, still as in love as ever.

somewhere in Switzerland.

Mick smiled to himself as he woke up, the gentle shine of the sun peeking through the curtains of your bedroom, casting a beautiful light across your face. He turned on his side as he got comfy again, looking at you beside him, sleeping peacefully - He knew that it would be considered odd, but he could watch you sleep forever.

"I know you're staring, Micki," You grumbled, shuffling closer to him for warmth. Mick blushed as he tried not to laugh, knowing that he had been caught by you. "Stop looking at me, I look gross this early in the morning." You said, voice muffled as you hid your face in his chest. He grinned as he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you around so you were laying on top of him.

"You never look gross, my love," He smiled, placing a small, gentle kiss on your lips. You groaned as you sat up, placing your hands on Mick's chest to balance yourself. "Oh, I think I like where this is going." Mick tried not to laugh at the corniness of his tone, but burst out laughing as you rolled your eyes.

"You are so not funny, Mick," You deadpanned, watching as his face faltered at your unamused tone. "I'm kidding!" You laughed at the instant relief on your boyfriend's face as you watched him realise that you weren't actually mad at him. The two of you were too caught up in your little interaction, that you missed the patter of two sets of little feet coming down the hallway, their small voices whispering in a quiet hush.

"Mama?" You turned your head to the bedroom door to see your son standing there, your small daughter behind him. Felix, your son, had been a surprise. You had never expected to fall pregnant at the age of 19, and telling your dad, who you knew had been working tirelessly to get you that red bull seat, made you feel even more ill.

"Mick, I think I'm going to throw up again, he's going to kill me," You sat in your car with your boyfriend, parked outside of your parents house, building up the courage to walk in and tell them that you wouldn't be racing next season because you were pregnant. Mick reached over to hold your hand, a gesture he had been showing a lot as of late - He wasn't sure on how to try and comfort you other than being there for you and telling you how well you were doing.

"He's not, love. Your dad loves you and wants what's best for you, he'll know sitting next season out is what's best for you, and plus, you're already 12 weeks so maybe you can get some free practice laps in in the car at the end of the season," he explained to you, hoping it would provide you with some sense of reassurance. "No matter what happens, you know you have my support, I love you and I love our baby." He placed a small yet reassuring kiss on your cheek, knowing that if he kissed you on the lips you'd probably throw up.

You let out a deep sigh as you realised that it would soon get to the point where you couldn't hide it from your parents anymore, and you had to tell them. "Mick?" he hummed in response, looking over at you, nothing but love and admiration for you in his baby blues. "Can you still hold my hand?" He smiled, nodding and raising your hand up to his lips, pressing a small kiss onto it.

"I'll always hold your hand, my love."

Your daughter, Freja, had been less of a surprise, with you and Mick having received Felix's Christmas list, in which he had asked Father Christmas for a new baby sibling - Thanks to the fact that your parents were still somehow popping out siblings for you, and that Felix was older than your youngest brother. It had worked out that you were out of a seat for the next season, and this may be your only chance to have your next baby.

When you told Mick that you were happy to try for another baby, it didn't take him long to get you pregnant again.

It was after Freja that you told Mick no more babies, not at least until you retired - Which you claimed to be at least another 4 years away.

"Hey you two, you okay?" You quickly got off of Mick's lap, and made your way over to your two small children, with Freja immediately holding her arms up for you to carry her. "You're getting heavy, baby girl." You joked, tickling your daughter's tummy and smiling as you heard her giggle and cuddle you as much as she could with her little arms. You held Freja at one side, bending down to pick Felix up on the other side and holding him close to you.

From your bed, Mick smiled at the sight of you with your two children. He knew how hard you found it when you were gone, how much you missed your little ones and how much it broke your heart to hear either of them crying, asking their dad when you would be back home with them. With your two children in your arms, you made your way over to yours and Mick's bed, handing him over your son as Freja had been going through her velcro baby phase - Although you did think it would have ended when she at least turned two, but now you just had a clingy 3 year old - However you didn't mind, Felix was the same, and you knew that neither of them would be this small and dependent on you again.

You sighed contentedly as you lay in bed with your family, mulling over your next thought before you said it out loud, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you considered it.

"You okay love?..You seem...distracted," Mick noticed how deep in thought you were, almost having zoned out where it not for the noise the toddler in your arms was making.

"...If I win the championship this year, I'm retiring after Abu Dhabi," You told him, remaining serious so this time he knew that you weren't joking. "I want to see them grow up but I want to see them be kids too, I can't do that from halfway across the world." You spoke, smoothing the mop of curly hair on Freja's head as well as you could.

"Oh...have you spoken to your dad?" You nodded, a small smile on your face as you leaned in closer to him with your daughter still clinging to you.

"Yeah, he was the first person I told, he spoke to Horner too...he wants you to do some testing to maybe take over my seat." You told him, watching as a small sheepish smile graced his face, he had been struggling to get a seat in F1, having to resort to a reserve driver at both Alpine and Mercedes, but never getting the chance to get a drive.

"Y/N.."

"I know, I know, you don't have to take it Mick, but think about it, okay?"

sometime later, Abu Dhabi

With the German national anthem blaring in your ears, Max and Charles on a podium at either side of you, you burst into tears. You had won your championship, made your country, your parents, your love, and your children proud. But this was also your last formula one podium. Your last national anthem. Your last champagne pop. The last spray with your race engineer.

This was it.

But this was also it! You were going home, you were going to be with your children, to be a constant in their lives. You knew that your replacement would be up to the job, anyone that came to red bull after yourself or Max had huge shoes to fill, but your replacement had champions blood in him, he would also bring your country pride.

more time later, Abu Dhabi

You stood down at the gates, looking up as you saw Mick up the top step of the podium, having dazzled Red Bull and winning the championship on his first run with the team. Tears sprung to your eyes, you didn't bother to wipe them as your hands were occupied between holding Felix and Freja's smaller ones.

With your mom at your side, you rested your head on her shoulder, pride swelling in your chest at just how well your successor had done at replacing you.

"Y/N, are you sure you don't want to go and sit in the garage?" Hanna asked you, looking at you with concern - Despite having 2, soon to be 3, kids of your own, you were still your mom's baby. You sniffled as you shook your head, smiling up at Mick as he stepped down from the top podium and waved to the 4 of your, winking at you before popping the champagne and spraying Lando and Oscar.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #mick schumacher x vettel!reader #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher #formula one x reader #max verstappen

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divinesolas · 8 months ago

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just a little 1k wc smutty drabble of jacaerys eating good, enjoy 😊

You wish you hadn't seen it. What they had been doing, for it is had been plaguing your mind all day. You try to shake off the burning desire in your stomach as you recall the events.

You can’t, for even while you're kissing your husband you are thinking about it. He pulls away from you, a small string of saliva connects the two of you and as he stares at you with hearts in his eyes. “Is something wrong dear?”

You and Jacaerys have always had a very standard time in the bedroom. It is always very pleasurable for you, though you now know that is not the norm after some very shocking and concerning conversations with the other ladies in court, and this leaves you feeling guilty.

Guilty for wanting more of him, wanting him to consume you, for wanting him to give you more when he has already been selfish enough.

“It is nothing dear.” You attempt to push your lips against his once more but he holds your shoulders firmly in place, looking at you worriedly. “You are not yourself. If you are not up for it tonight we do not have to bed, i will not force myself on you.”

This has your heart aching as you look down. He is always so kind and so sweet to you. Which makes you feel like a dirty animal for the thoughts you are thinking.

“I do want to, so badly dear its just,,,” You trail off , turning your head the other way. He is quick to grab your chin and tilt your head back up to look at him. “What is it? If it is something i can do for you i will do it.”

You know he can do it. Or at least you hope he can.

“I had been walking around and i stumbled upon something,” You hesitate, unable to believe the words that are about to drip out of your mouth. “they were a squire and a maid, in the wine cellar, he had he propped up on one of the boxes, he seemed to be giving her pleasure but,” “but what?” Jacaerys voice is shaky, his hands rattle on your skin, he is desperate to hear your words, his breath fans on your skin in a rapid rhythm.

“But his head was between her legs. It is sinful and it is scandalous but i have never seen or heard anything like that before. It had engraved itself in my mind and i cannot stop thinking about ti, the blissful look on her face, not that you do not give me pleasure of course but this looked like it was different. Im sorry i know it is wrong to think about-” You gasp as his lips press heavily against yours.

He grips your jaw with a fury as he kisses you like he never has before. He pulls away from you and presses your foreheads together as you catch your breath. “You wish for me to do that to you my sweet? i will i will do it, gods i have been thinking about this for so long. You let out a squeal as he lightly pushes you to fall onto your back.

“Truly? Then why have you never brought this up before?” He looks embarrassed but he cannot stop himself from tugging up your nightgown to pool around your hips and reveal you bare to him. “It is quite, carnal, i suppose theres no better word for it. I did not think i lady like you would be interested.”

He presses a kiss against your stomach before he looks up at you once more. Its breathtaking to see him at an angle like this, simply staring up at you, you try to catch your breath but you are unable to as he begins to trail kisses down your stomach before stopping right where you want him and moving instead to grab your legs and place them on either sides of his shoulders.

You should feel humiliated, shame should be coursing through your veins but the way jacaerys has an awestruck look as he admires you and the way his hands softly caress your skin is enough to quench any worries and fears you have.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, despite the fact that it had been your idea. “Yes.” There is not way you can stop your desire, certainly not with how desperate he seems, like he is dying to be able to put his head between your legs.

His face disappears from your view and you feel him kiss around your thighs. You whine as he continues to simply brush around where you want him and he chuckled, “i’m sorry i will not tease you.”

You wanted to say something back to him but you suddenly jump and a shiver runs down your spine as you feel his hot wet tongue push past your folds.

You harshly grip the top of his head as he hims content, the vibration adding another level of pleasure. You get why the woman seemed to pleased, this was on another plane of ecstasy.

Your head thrown back as he continues to lap against you, the sounds in the room leave your skin feeling hot. You continue to revel in the feeling of him licking at you, drinking up every drop you let out until you also feel something harder press against you. His nose.

You have no clue how he’s even breathing. But you cannot find it in you to care as you find your hips moving on their own, rubbing against his face, hitting his tongue and his nose so perfectly it has you seeing stars.

“Keep doing that please.” He pulls away for a quick second to speak before he is right back to it. You listen, continuing to rut yourself again his face, unable to contain your moans. You’re sure everyone in the damn keep could hear you but you don’t care.

You do notice something curious, he is rutting himself against the bed, the moans he pours into you adds to your pleasure. Was he surely so pleased by this? by bringing you pleasure he had no other choice than to try and quench his own hunger by rutting himself against your sheets like a dog?

You have no time to dwell on it as he brings one of his hands to your clit, taking it in his fingers and rubbing it around. You’re thrown into a whirlwind of pleasure like you couldn't believe. You're sure this is what heaven must feel like.

His hand slides up your chest and you lock your fingers with his as you feel yourself drawing closer and closer to your release. It is like your souls locking together. He grips you so tightly and you grip his back as your face contorts in pleasure as you burst.

You continue to wither in pleasure as he laps up every single drop of essence you spill out in your release. He sits up and stares at you with wide eyes, his usual brown eyes lost in a storm of black, pleasure seeping into his soul.

You can see the shine gloss all over his face, his nose, his jaw, his chin, his lips and his lip especially are noticeable as you can see they are redder and bigger. You watch as he licks his lips and grins at you. “That is so much better than i could have ever dreamed of.”

You have to agree

<3 went a little crazy and wrote this yesterday when i was freaking out of jace <3

Perm Jacaerys taglist

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife @jacesvelaryons

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noyoucantpinmedown · 7 months ago

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The Bowers Gang When Their Partner Has Their Period

Basically headcanons on the boys' attitude towards periods and how they handle their afab partner having one.

Belch Huggings

While Belch was raised by his loving mom, I picture Mrs. Huggings being quite old-fashioned and therefore very sheepish when it comes to talking biology with her son. Poor woman barely made it through giving him the sex talk, and as a result all Reggie knows is that whatever happens during the elusive ''time of the month'', it's not fun. Despite his lack of knowledge, Belch will be very doting of his partner if he's told they're having theirs, or even if he thinks they might be (he will never ask, or say the P word.) His SO can expect even more cuddles, random store bought or home-cooked treats (Mama Huggins is proud of how considerate her boy is), supplies kept on hand in the glove compartment of his car, patience, and compassion. Will assume sex is out of the question for the time being, but if his partner asks, he's more than happy to oblige. Generally will check on his SO constantly to the point of being annoying, and is willing to do anything they want, being nothing but understanding and obliging the whole time, even if his partner is cranky and takes out their frustration on him. Clueless as he is, he's ready to do anything he can think of to help, and is eager to be directed on what his SO needs. Will it kill him inside to be seen out buying pads for his partner? Yes. Will he do it anyway without complaint? Also yes. 10/10 in terms of support.

Victor Criss

I headcanon Victor as having two younger sisters and one of them is around the Losers' age, so aside from actually having been educated by his parents, he has actually witnessed what it can be like. He's the best prepared for this scenario and the most mature about it. As most teenage boys, Vic is a bit grossed out by the whole thing, but he's determined to handle it maturely and discuss it openly with his partner. Once he knows Aunt Flo is in town, he'll steal some pads from his sister and mom's stash to keep in his backpack, along with some Advil for cramps. He will show empathy for his SO's aches and mood swings, but unlike Belch, he will not take his SO directing their frustration at him- they may be bleeding, but that does not get them a free pass to treat him badly. In terms of intimacy, he's squicked out by blood in a sexual context, so his partner is on their own for that one. Other that that, he's happy to provide whatever his SO needs- he'll cuddle and read with his partner when they're bedridden with cramps, supply them with warm drinks, listen to them rant, and provide plenty of affection.

We're done with the sweet boyfriends part- onto the shitty ones.

Patrick Hockstetter

Patrick's knowledge on menstruation amounts to sexist stereotypes, and shameless as he is, he's not afraid to talk about it. The type to bring it up whenever his partner is grumpier than usual (''Oh, I see. Shark week, is it?''), and enjoys coming up with names for it- they're about as gross as you can expect. He's curious about how it really works, though, which might make it even worse, because now his taunts are even more based in reality. The stereotypical ones don't really stop either, though. The only one who will not tell their partner if their clothes are stained in public, because it's funnier if they're walking around with a red spot on the back of their pants. Patrick has an uncanny ability to just know when his partner's having their monthly visitor without them having to mention it (because he's a stalker with great observational skills). Doesn't give a shit about what their partner is going through, no emotional support to be found here. He's just as likely to take mood swings and crankiness in good fun (but there will be some form of punishment if his SO crosses the line of what he considers entertaining sass) as he is to get bored with it and avoid his partner until they're in a more agreeable mood. But hey, he is not completely useless- will give his partner all the physical affection they want, because he enjoys his partner being clingy and it's easy to transition to sex from there. Every now and then he'll swipe treats and supplies from the store even if he is not asked for them. The more attached Patrick feels to his SO, the more likely he is to do it and the more likely he is to not ask for anything in return... the latter still isn't a lot, he'll still expect his partner to fall over themselves thanking him for his sacrifice and generosity (that being the one chocolate bar he stole while going to steal cigarettes for himself). Generally speaking though, for Patrick it's business as usual. Ditto for intimacy. The negative is that he will expect his partner to put out in some form of another; the positive is that his partner will not be without if they habe those kind of cravings, and absolutely nothing is off the table because we know Patrick is nasty as hell and really enjoys blood. If his partner really wants nothing to do with him in that department, no big deal! He'll just find someone who does while he waits out the crimson tide :) He's such a catch, guys!

Henry Bowers

Oh boy. So, here's the thing: unlike Patrick, Henry actually wants to help. Unlike Vic and Belch, Henry is too stoic and hard-headed to even touch the topic. All he knows about menstruation is wrapped up in sexism, so he probably thinks that ''it's not that big of a deal'', or that ''women play it up for attention''. But he's squeamish when it comes to the reality of All Things Afab, so if he pulls the ''are you on you period'' card when his partner is in a bad mood and his partner answers Yes, I am, expect blushing and stammering. Wants to help, but does not want to talk about it, and a lot of the things that would help he considers demeaning (he will not be caught dead in the feminine care aisle). Not much to offer in the way of emotional support, except awkward pats and clumsy attempts at validation. He will show his partner more grace than usual, but if they're the type to complain a lot, get snappy or emotional, he'll get very tired very quickly. As far as sex is concerned, Henry expects his needs to still be met but refuses to touch his partner below the hips- he won't push his SO more than once or twice, though, and will wait it out without bringing it up again. Generally better at the quiet moments: sitting with his SO while they nap or watch a movie, wordlessly giving them food or a hot water bottle and trying to blissfully ignore the whole situation as much as he can.

#bowers gang headcanons #bowers gang #it 2017 #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins #victor criss #victor criss x reader #belch huggins x reader #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #bowers gang x reader

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whumpsday · 4 days ago

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Kane & Jim #57: Indulgence

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, comfort, starvation, body image issues, fear of torture, whumper turned whumpee

sorry for the long wait! i really do want to write more this year :)

Before Kane could get a single word out, he was tackled.

He just barely managed to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling to the ground as Bellamy’s arms wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him in warm and tight.

“You were dead.” His voice came out squeaky, thick with quick-forming tears. “There was that incident last month, but everyone thought that must have had to have been an impersonator. You’re truly here! Truly!”

“I’m here.” Kane hugged him back, but they only stayed like that a moment before Bellamy pulled back to see his face, still looking quite as though he couldn’t believe Kane were real.

“Where on Earth were you?” he asked, hands still clutching Kane’s arms with the grip of a man who imagined those arms would vanish if he let go.

“It’s a long story.” Kane took a deep breath. “Bellamy, I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I know–”

“Oh, don’t worry about that right now,” Bellamy did free one hand then, requiring it to gesture flippantly and then wipe the tears from his face. “Appreciated, to be sure, but there will be plenty of time for that after more pressing matters. Please, do come in, darling.”

A soft smile grew on Kane’s face. Bellamy wasn’t angry with him, at least. “Thank you. I would love to.”

It was only after he’d crossed the threshold of the doorway that Bellamy dared to let go, though he didn’t let his eyes off Kane for a moment as he made his way to sit on a plush couch in the living room.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, all politeness, though Kane knew exactly what he must look like. What Bellamy must see. Perhaps if Bellamy had seen him months earlier, he would have been unable to maintain such composure.

Not that Kane really minded at all. He was being offered food. “Yes, please.”

Before he knew it–Bellamy having dashed the whole way to the refrigerator and back–there was a pack of cold blood in his hands. “I’m able to warm it up for you, of course, but I do recall that when we were boys, you’d always said the pre-packaged never tastes as good reheated.”

“I don’t mind either way, nowadays.” Truthfully, Bellamy could have tripped and spilled the blood all over the floor and he would have gladly licked it up without much thought. He had before.

He bit into the soft plastic casing and drank. The cool blood was a bit stale, though nowhere approaching spoiled. He wouldn’t have cared if it was. It was delicious nonetheless, and after he’d exhausted what he could suck out through the holes, he tore the packaging apart and licked up every remaining drop clinging to the sides.

“It’s ethically-sourced,” Bellamy commented. “From free, willing, paid humans overseas.”

“It’s really good! Can I have another?” Kane asked before he could stop himself. He’d never been able to indulge before, not since his capture. He was grateful for what Jim had given him, of course. Grateful would be the understatement of the century. But Jim was one human, and he could only give so much at a time.

“Of course!” Bellamy clapped, just once, delighted. And when Bellamy returned, he had two.

Kane downed both, in the same manner as the first. Three meals, just like a human.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Bellamy started slowly, despite that it was very obvious he quite badly wanted to pry. His voice got a touch lower, gentler. “But Kane, my dear. Have you been… eating well?”

Kane crinkled the empty casings, something to do with his hands. He’d really been very proud of the progress he’d made. When he’d first seen himself in Jim’s bathroom mirror, he looked almost like a skeleton, every available bit of fat and muscle his body could spare cannibalized in its attempt to find something to keep him going, until there was nothing left.

He did look better now, after six months of regular meals. He was still far, far skinnier than he was before the hunters, but he had some meat on him now. His cheeks only sunk in a little bit. His collarbone jutted out in a way that just barely bordered ‘passably normal’. You could see the bones of his arms from the inner arm, but not the outer, so as long as he took care to hold his arms just so, no one could tell. Not that he ever really made an effort. His hair didn’t have bald patches anymore, didn’t shed every time he touched it. If he wore layers, which he always did–and not even for that reason–you couldn’t see his ribs. So long as one didn’t look too carefully, he could pass as a regular man.

But Bellamy always looked carefully.

Bellamy didn’t look starved at all. He didn’t have to try not to, of course. His skin was smooth and his face was full. His hair was thick and lucious and styled. He had the figure of a healthy man, one who had food available to him every single day of his life. He only wore one shirt and his abdomen didn’t fall inward from under his ribs like Kane’s did. He smelled like lavender cologne. He practically glowed.

“I… went through a period where I hadn’t been eating very well at all. But as of the past few months, I have,” he answered honestly.

Bellamy sat beside him. “Truth be told, I do mean to pry this time. On account of my increasing worry, you see. Where have you been all this time?”

“Human territory.” Kane looked down at the empty packaging in his hands. The label used the same phrasing Bellamy had–Free, willing humans! “I was captured by vampire hunters when I’d, I’d, ah, hunted f-for a new human. Things were not, um, good there. I wasn’t fed, as you’ve gathered. Then Jim, you remember Jim? He came and got me out. I’ve been living with him for the past seven months. Not owning him!” he clarified hastily, looking up then. “As roommates.”

“I see.” Bellamy’s eyebrows had slowly drawn together in concern more and more the longer Kane had talked. “Well, I’m certainly glad you’re out of there now, dear. I did always like that Jim boy.”

“And I’m sorry,” Kane tried again. “You were right about everything. About humans, about me, about our families, all of it. And I was a bad friend. Even before we parted ways, I always acted like I was better than you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. I really am sorry.” And then, before he could stop himself: “Do you think we could try again?”

Bellamy smiled. “Well, I really am right about everything,” he mused. “I’ll admit, it’s all true. It took me a time to see as well, that you really were dreadful, though I never imagined I’d hear an apology from you.”

Though Kane had expected worse to start, it still tore a hole in him to hear Bellamy call him dreadful. Even if he knew it was true.

“That said,” Bellamy continued, “We were children. I was never the one bearing the brunt of your wrongs, and you’ve clearly turned over a new leaf. If even Jim has forgiven you, I see no reason not to. Absolutely, we can rekindle a friendship.”

Jim has not forgiven him: he’d made that clear. But he moved forward anyway. Maybe he could do that himself, too.

“I would love that.” Kane let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding, like a weight had been lifted from him after a century. “Maybe–maybe you could visit sometime. If you want to. I’d have to get permission. Do you ever go to human territory? I mean, you shouldn’t, but if I got permission, Jim’s sister is a hunter, you see, so it should–”

“Oh, yes, the sister! Elizabeth, if I recall? Yes, I’ve spoken with her, though well over a decade ago,” Bellamy cut in. “I do imagine she’s quite pleased to have her brother returned.”

Kane blinked. “You know Liz?”

“Oh, Jim and Caroline had exchanged phone numbers that night we met, you see. Caroline and the young girl had had a few conversations, but the girl had stopped at some point when she’d realized we had no way to affect Jim’s situation. I do not mean to imply I know her, I’d merely answered the phone and handed it off to Caroline a time or two. She’d always sounded frightened when I’d been the one to answer, so I did not linger,” he explained. “My, she must be grown by now. How time flies!”

“Oh. That’s–she never mentioned,” Kane stammered. “Is Caroline still…?”

“Alive and well, I assure you, though she has moved on to greener pastures. She’s found love, you see. She lives with her boyfriend nowadays, though she’s over often enough that my kitchen is still stocked with human food.” Bellamy reached to collect Kane’s empty packages, which he reluctantly released.

“So she’s back in human territory?” he asked.

“No, just across town. Her boyfriend is no human.”

Kane’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh my.”

He supposed he shouldn’t be too scandalized by the thought of a human and a vampire together. Humans were people, he knew that now, he’d accepted it long ago. Still, it felt… odd, in a way he could not adequately explain.

Bellamy laughed. “You must get with the times, darling.”

They sat there chatting for hours, and Kane had almost never felt lighter. It was like he was someone else, a version of him he’d never been before, where he was not horrible to anyone and no one had ever been horrible to him. Bellamy didn’t know what happened, not really, and with him, it was like he could forget, too. Just for an evening.

Just until he happened to glance at Bellamy’s clock and notice the time.

He startled out of nowhere. “It’s late,” he gasped. “I’m not–am I going to be able to get home in time?”

“Well, I’m not sure, as I’ve no idea where you live,” Bellamy points out. “Will you?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Kane grabbed Bellamy’s sleeve, terror striking his heart. “Please don’t make me go out there,” he begged. “I can’t–please, Bellamy, please.”

“What?” Bellamy put his hand over Kane’s, though he made no effort to remove his hold. “Of course, dear. You may spend the day if you wish. Why on earth would I force you into the morning?”

It was all crumbling apart. Of course he couldn’t be normal.

“I’m sorry,” Kane squeaked out, tearing up, but before he could say more, he found himself enveloped in a hug.

“It’s alright.” Bellamy held him as he struggled to collect himself. “You needn’t explain. Or you can, if you’re ready, or once you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Kane breathed.

It was silent, then. He didn’t want to explain. Not yet.

When he’d stopped crying–not that long after, by Kane’s standards, to his pride–Bellamy pulled back. “You know, I was wondering… how you’re getting blood? Is it still Jim?”

“Oh, yes,” Kane sniffled. “He’s very generous. But he’s actually just recently stopped, and I’m to provide my own from now on. I was meant to go to my parents and clear my status as deceased, but at the last second I decided to come here.”

“I’m flattered,” Bellamy said haughtily, a hand on his chest. “You’d mentioned my going to visit you. What if I were to bring you blood? The kind you’d ‘sampled’ tonight.”

“You’d really do that?” Kane asked. The idea was beyond tantalizing–he could have all the blood he wanted, and not have to run across human territory, even the part with friendly hunters.

“I do. I would so like a chance to visit human territory without scaring the locals, besides!” Bellamy enthused. “A win for us both!”

The next night, Kane returned home with a bag full of blood packs. For once, he could see a future for himself.

…

He reviewed the grainy VCR footage captured by the security cameras at the de Sang estate. It was the strangest thing: he just ran up to the gate, stood there for a moment, and ran away. And everyone else was ready to write it off as if it had never happened, all hush-hush. The boring lot of them.

Anton smiled. “Well, look who’s not dead.”

taglist in reblogs

#kane and jim #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #vampire whump #recovery whump #comfort #starvation #whumper turned whumpee

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mattslilies · 17 days ago

Text

✩ criminologist!reader - lets matt comfort her after seeing a bad scene ✩

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warnings: general descriptions of human remains/bodily fluid such as blood in context of a crime scene

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you couldn't sleep. you'd been laying awake in bed for god only knows how many hours, your boyfriend sleeping soundly beside you. he'd fallen asleep ages ago, curled up against your warm body.

you reached for your phone, seeing that the time read 3:56 am.

sighing you put your arm out to put it back onto the nightstand, your heart jumping when you accidentally knocked over matt's phone and water bottle, hearing them clatter to the floor.

swearing under your breath, you immediately got out of bed to pick up both items, as well as putting your own phone back onto the charger.

getting back under the covers, you were just about to thank all the gods that matt was a deep sleeper, when he started shifting next to you.

he rolled over to face you, blinking his eyes open and trying to make sense of the darkness surrounding you both.

"babe?"

"sorry, sorry, just knocked over some stuff off of the nightstand when i was trying to put my phone back." you quickly apologized, hating that you had woken him up.

you didn't want matt to know that you were having trouble sleeping, knowing that it would cause him to worry, and you hated when he did that, despite knowing it came from a caring place inside of him.

"what were you doing on your phone? 's the middle of the night."

you just shrugged, laying back down and resting your head on the pillow.

squinting, matt reached over and flicked on the lamp next to your bed. when the dim light shone on you two, he could very clearly make out the rapidly darkening circles under your eyes from lack of sleep.

"you never went to bed, did you?"

your silence was enough of an answer, and he sighed, but not a disappointed or annoyed sigh, a quiet one, filled with concern.

it wasn't often you had nights you couldn't sleep, or that you saw a case or a scene bad enough to rattle you, but matt had seen you through a few of them, and he knew what this meant.

you didn't often talk about your cases with matt, knowing he didn't stomach them as well as you did, but on nights like these, exceptions were made.

"cmere, baby." he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, and it didn't take much more than that for you to begin crying. sobbing, really, which you would have considered embarrassing around anyone else.

"there was just so much blood, matt. and it wouldn't have bothered me so badly, but it was a kid, and their mom, just laying there. you're not supposed to realize how much blood can come out of a child."

he didn't say much, letting you cry, a hand rubbing your back and another one gently caressing the back of your head.

"and i can't sleep. i can't sleep because i can't get that image out of my head. they should be sleeping, safely, and they're not."

he kissed the top of your head, softly whispering. "i know, i know. it's horrible. i'm so sorry, baby. i'm so sorry you had to see that."

"i love my job, matt, i really do. this one just hit hard."

he gently lifted your face from his chest, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before kissing your lips, and wiping tears away with his thumbs.

"i know you love your job, and you're damn good at it. cases will stick with you, baby, you see horrible things every day. i don't know how you do it, because i wouldn't be able to handle it. it makes you human. i'd be much more concerned if they didn't ever stick with you, although i hate that it gives you trouble sleeping."

you let out a small sigh, enjoying the comforting words and presence of your boyfriend. he really was your rock when you had difficult nights like these, and never failed to make you feel a little bit better. as you laid in his embrace, both the late hour and the exhaustion of crying caught up to you, and you let out a large yawn.

matt smiled down at you, kissing you again, before getting comfortable himself and pulling you against him.

"i've got you, baby, try to rest. it's going to be okay, tomorrow is going to be a better day."

when you closed your eyes for the final time that night, all you saw was peaceful darkness, clouded with love from your boyfriend, and you finally fell asleep.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #mattslilies

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year ago

Text

The Only Reason

➪the one where leon finally gives you some much needed closure after four months of feeling nothing but regret from what he did.

Warnings: angst, fluff, making out, swearing, mentions of cheating, cheating, toxic relationships, mentions of a bad past, mentions of weight loss, all the ada slander in the world because i actually cannot stand her, mentions of unwanted sexual attention (from ada to leon), unwanted intimacy (from ada to leon), eating disorders (implied)

Word Count: 5.2k | Part 1

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The loud music and thumping of the walls were the last thing on Leon’s mind as he scanned every single room of the house. Chris decided to throw a housewarming party for Claire at her new place, and of course Leon was invited.

Leon refused the initial invitation, but quickly changed his mind when Chris told him that you would be there. It seemed as though the brunet had long since grown sick of his friend’s moping and knew he had to do something about it.

Pretty much everyone that Leon knew was here, yet he couldn’t seem to find you. The house wasn’t big, and it didn’t have very many rooms, but it seemed like it was still impossible to locate you. Not that he even had a right to.

If he does manage to find you, what would he even say? “I’m sorry for everything, and for letting you leave without trying to fight for you. Also, I don’t blame you for ignoring my calls and not texting me back, I deserve that.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he sounded that desperate. Back when he was a dumb twenty one year old, he supposed.

Leon has been here for over an hour now, and he still hasn’t seen you once. He was beginning to think that Chris lied to him just to get him out of the house he used to share with you. While he wouldn’t put it past him, Leon wanted to give Chris the benefit of the doubt and believe that he had good intentions when he invited him to this thing.

Nearly giving up on his search, Leon heads back to the kitchen, where Jill hands him a bottle of beer. She leans against the counter and he does the same, his eyes still expertly scanning the room, just in case. “Hey, Kennedy,” she greets as she sips on her own beer. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Been busy with work?”

Leon shrugs, his face almost emotionless. “Yeah,” he lied. Of course he had been going to work and successfully completing missions, but he hadn’t left the house outside of that. Work usually took up a good portion of his time, and the rest of it was spent thinking about how badly he fucked things up with you.

It wasn’t even worth it. Ada.

He hadn’t seen her since he broke off their little agreement a month before he confessed to you, despite her texting him and asking to meet up so he can fuck her in exchange for information he thought was worth more than you.

It really wasn’t.

He’s been ignoring her texts for months now, just like how you’ve been ignoring his.

Leon had never blocked someone’s number ever in his life, but Ada was about to be the first if she didn’t take the hint and leave him the fuck alone.

As much as he wanted to put all the blame on her, he knew it was half his own fault, as well. He couldn’t believe he had gone back to Ada Wong when he had you, his entire world, waiting for him at home.

He knew he would never forgive himself, even if you somehow managed to move on and forgive him for the worst mistake he had ever made in his twenty nine years of living.

Four months.

It’s been four months and he was still beating himself up for what he did to you.

“Yeah, Chris and I are looking into this new virus that is spreading down in Oxford. The cases have been going up daily, might be something you can help out with,” she offered, leaning closer to him so he could hear her better over the loud music. “You’re more experienced with viruses than anyone else I know.”

Leon gave her a tight lipped smile. “Sure, Jill,” he replied. “Whatever you need.”

“Great,” she says as she finishes off her beer. “You staying long? I never took you as the party type.”

He really wasn’t. He hadn’t been to a party since he was nineteen. Even the frat parties he was invited to were boring, so he never had the urge to go to anymore after the age of twenty. Until now, because he was told that you would be here.

And he wanted to see you so badly.

“I’m not, really,” he agreed and brought the bottle up to his mouth. “I just thought someone I know would be here-”

He wasn’t able to take a sip of the alcohol before his eyes landed on you as soon as you entered the room.

All words had died on his tongue and the bottle was raised half way before his hand froze.

You looked beautiful. Your cute white dress fit you well and showed off the concerning amount of weight you had lost. He hadn’t seen you that small since the beginning of your relationship, back when you didn’t know how to take care of yourself and listen to your body’s warnings.

Leon felt his heart constrict at the thought of you going back to your old ways of ignoring the signs your body tried giving you. You were barely getting by when he met you, and you hadn’t gone completely back to that since leaving him, if your makeup and pretty hair were anything to go by.

You hadn’t given up on yourself entirely, and that gave him enough hope that you would be okay. Even if he was given the chance to talk to you and explain things, he knew you weren’t completely broken like you were when you first started dating, and that you would be fine if you decided to never forgive him.

Looking as shy as ever, you inch further into the room, seeming to have not noticed Leon yet as you ventured over to the bottles of booze that had been set out on the counter. “Oh, shit, is that Y/n?” Jill asked as she squinted in your direction. “I didn’t know she was coming, but that pretty much explains why you’re here. Are you okay?”

Leon watched as you browsed through the drink options, dropping his arm back to his side and not caring about the beer that splashed onto his hand at the quick movement. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he slowly shook his head, a quiet “No,” leaving his mouth afterwards.

Jill looked between the two of you, unsure of what to say. “Do you want to move to another room?”

Leon shook his head again. “No. You said it yourself, Jill. This is why I’m here,” he muttered and watched as a younger guy moved to stand next to you. He helped you pour a large amount of vodka mixed with ginger ale into a cup, and he quickly recognized the guy as one of the new agents Claire had befriended named Kegan.

Kegan stepped closer to you and Leon could instantly tell that you were uncomfortable. He knew you like the back of his hand and could tell when you got nervous or anxious, like how you are right now.

Leon stood up straight and placed the untouched bottle of beer behind him on the counter before making his way across the kitchen.

Within four strides he is behind you and towering over Kegan, who noticed Leon long before you did. “Kennedy? Leon Kennedy is actually at a party? Wow, never thought I’d see the day,”

Leon glared at him and it was then when you realized who was standing behind you. “You don’t know me,” Leon stated as you turned to face him, but he just kept his eyes on Kegan. Leon had quite the reputation at work, and he was well known as the guy who is more than capable of completing any mission, no matter how tough it may be.

That being said, his superiority often annoyed the new guys as they tried to live up to the high expectations and standards of Leon Kennedy.

“And you don’t know her, but I do, and I know she wants you to leave her alone but is far too nice to actually say that to you, so I’ll do it for her,” Leon continued and felt his heart skip a beat at the quiet gasp that left your lips.

Kegan looked between you and Leon, and more specifically the protective look in his eyes, before backing away with his hands up. “My bad, man,” he shrugged. “Didn’t realize she was with you.”

He disappeared in the crowd as you turned completely to face your ex. “You didn’t need to do that,” you muttered and Leon could feel his face heat up at the fact that you were actually talking to him. You wore an annoyed look, but still, you’re talking to him. “I could’ve done that myself.”

Leon forced a grin to form on his lips. “But I bet you’re glad I did it, instead,” when you just shook your head and began to leave the kitchen, Leon stepped in front of you, refraining from grabbing your hand like he so desperately wanted to. “Wait, please.”

“What, Leon?” You asked and you sounded so exhausted, it made his heart physically break a bit. “What could you possibly have to say to me right now?”

“Everything,” he answered instantly. “I want to say everything I didn’t say the day you left. Please, give me a chance.”

You narrow your eyes and cross your arms. “It’s been months, Leon,”

“Four,” he confirmed, watching the brief shock that flashed across your face. “And I’ve thought about you everyday for every one.”

You give him a conflicted look that is quickly followed by a sigh. “There is nothing you can say that will fix what happened, just so you know,”

Leon nodded and held his hand out to you, surprise filling him when you actually took it. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t your fault, and that it’s all on me,” he promised as he led you towards the front door, missing Chris’ look of relief as he passed him.

While he didn’t know the full story of what his friend did to you, he knew Ada had been involved in the reason you were no longer together. Chris was never a fan of Ada and how she treated Leon whenever the two crossed paths, and he was sure the blond felt the same way after being her little pet for years. He was sure the two of you would end up getting married, so he could not fathom how the fuck Leon had let Ada get in the way of what you and he had.

All in all, he was sick of Leon’s bad moods, and wanted his friend to go back to normal. Well, as normal as Leon Kennedy could be.

Leon led you out onto the front porch, and with one look from him, the two guys who were standing out there quickly scampered back into the house. Once you were alone, he turned back to face you with guilty eyes, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what to say to you.

He had wanted the chance to talk to you again for months, and now that you are actually here in front of him he was blanking.

But he wouldn’t let his inability to form a proper sentence be what cost him his once chance at explaining to you why he did what he did.

An apology would be a good place to start, right?

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he finally allowed himself to look into your guarded eyes. You looked at him as if he were a stranger, and he supposed he kind of is now. The person you both thought he was would’ve never done what he did to you, no matter how important those fucking files were. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

You nod and lean back against the railing, crossing your arms as you stare at him with a soft glare. “I’m really glad we agree on that,”

He knew he deserved that. He deserved worse, actually, but you were simply too kind to completely go off on him, and he simply never deserved you in the first place. “That’s fair, you’re being hostile,” he mumbled and felt his skin begin to heat up under his dark leather jacket. “I know I have no right to even be talking to you right now, but I just need you to know that what I did with Ada was the worst thing I have ever done, and I’ve done a lot of bad shit in my life. None of them cost me you, though, so they’re not very high on that list.”

You tense up at the name you’ve hated since the second you heard it, and the mention of her sent your insecurities right back to the front of your mind. “Yeah, well,” you trail off, kicking a stone that was on the porch away from you as you avoid his stare. “I hope she was worth it, because I haven’t been able to wrap my head around the fact that Ada fucking Wong is the reason the best relationship I had ever been in ended.”

“She wasn’t worth it,” he said instantly, taking a cautious step towards you. “She was never worth it, even back when I was a stupid twenty one year old and trying to start my career. She never cared, and I wasn’t smart enough to see that. I’m not smart at all. If I had half a brain I would’ve never gone back to her ever again.”

You shake your head. “You can say that now, but it doesn’t change anything,” you mumbled. “You cheated on me with the one person I’ve been worried about since day one. You promised me that she was in your past, and that you were over her. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe that. Guess we’re both fucking dumb.”

“No,” he said sternly. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Ada hasn’t had control over my heart for a long time now, it’s always been you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met, and that was years ago. I know I fucked up, but I’ve never stopped believing that you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else, and that was clear after I met you.”

Your lip was quivering just slightly and you blinked back tears, trying to stick to your promise of never crying over the man in front of you ever again. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep that promise if you were to continue to talk to him. “Then why did you do it? Why did you ruin what we had?” You regretfully ask and quickly add, “And I want the truth, not some bullshit story you always seem to come up with. Be honest with me, Leon.”

Leon really felt pathetic at this point as he felt his heart jump a bit at the fact that you said his name. He missed you so much, he missed hearing your voice, and he missed the way his name sounded when it came out of your mouth.

He knew his answer wouldn’t satisfy you at all, but he said it anyway, “It was just about work,”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you say angrily, wiping under your eyes before he could see your tears. “Don’t waste anymore of my time, Leon. I refuse to spend another second with you if you’re just going to lie to me. You’ve done that enough.”

Leon shut up after that, shifting from one foot to the other and beginning to feel anxious. He shouldn’t feel this way around you. He had known you for four years and been with you for three, he should feel comfortable around you, but he supposed he lost that right, too.

At his lack of words, you turn away and are about to head back inside when he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the door. “Y/n, wait,” he begs, blue eyes clouding over with desperation as he stares hopelessly down at you. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. There are no words that could ever describe it. I hate that I hurt you and I hate that I fucked up the best thing I had going for me. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You fell silent as your eyes flickered from his lips then back to his eyes.

What if….for just one more night…what if.

“I should’ve never let you walk out that day without explaining to you that it was all my fault, just like how I should’ve never let Ada come anywhere near me. But I’m weak,” he was saying all the words he should have said to you the day he confessed that he had been seeing Ada. God, even her name made a feeling of disgust creep into his bones. “I’ve always been weak when it comes to you and my job and everything. I’m not cut out for this kind of thing, but you made me feel like I was. I can’t believe I took that for granted.”

Your eyes burned once again and you moved to lean back against the railing when he inched closer.

“You’re everything to me, sweetheart,” he sounded so genuine, you almost thought you could believe him. He placed his hands on the railing behind you and leaned down so his face was close to yours. “You always will be. She is, by far, the biggest mistake of my life and I promise that I haven’t seen her since. I can’t stand even thinking about her-”

He wasn’t able to finish that sentence as you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

Just one more night.

You just needed one more night with him, one where you could pretend you were still happy and still in love. One where you were still oblivious to the affair he was having with his ex…or whatever the fuck they were.

Just one more night to fuck him out of your system, then you’ll never have to see him again after this.

Leon got lost in the feeling of having your lips on his for the first time in months. His hands immediately grip your waist and his body presses right up against your own.

He missed you more than anything else in the entire world. Every single inch of you, he craved it everyday. He was so fucking angry with himself for how he destroyed your relationship and for how he hurt you after he swore he wouldn’t. After he swore he was different.

Really, he wasn’t far off from the assholes you had given your heart to in the past, even though he tried so hard to be.

His fingers bunch up the fabric of your dress and he wanted to take you right there, right against the railing of his friend’s new porch, but you deserved more than that. He wanted to give you more than that.

Your hands slide up to tangle in his hair and he never thought he’d ever get to feel your soft yet firm touch again. He couldn’t help but melt into it.

Your lower back pressed against the cool metal and the contrast of it had you gasping against his mouth.

Leon groaned at your quiet sound of pleasure and couldn’t deny how it went straight to his dick. Sometimes he really hated being a man who had no control over that part of his body. “Missed that sound,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Missed everything about you, pretty girl.”

You moan into his mouth and he swallows it like the greedy man he is. “Take me home, Leon,”

It was like a switch had been flipped. He pulled away but kept his hands on your hips. Now that he had gotten a taste of you again, he never wanted to let you go. But he needed to focus on why he sought you out tonight. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he trails off, noting the brief look of embarrassment that flashed in your eyes. “I don’t want you to think that this is all I wanted out of-”

“I want it, Leon,” you cut him off, pulling him closer by his jacket. “I want you. I know you don’t want me anymore, but-”

He shook his head and pressed another kiss to your lips, against his better judgment. “I do still want you, baby,” he promised. “I want you, always.”

You bite down on your lip and don’t miss the way his eyes flicker downwards when you do so. “Then take me home,” you pressed, watching as he seems to have an inner battle with himself.

You weren’t sure what result you wanted out of this; him agreeing and getting you off one last time, or him rejecting you of what he so gladly took from Ada.

Either way would provide you with some closure, you’d hope.

A few more seconds pass before he’s moving away and taking your hand. He leads you to his car and drives the familiar road to the house you lived in with him not too long ago.

As he guided you through the very door you walked out of the day he told you what he did, he gave you a conflicted look as he said, “Just so you know, this isn’t all I want from you. I meant everything I said before,”

You give him a blank look as you move closer to him. “I don’t care,”

Leon looked like he was in agony as you grabbed his jacket and pulled it from his body. “Don’t say that,” he begged. “Please.”

You don’t say anything else as you pull on his hands and walk backwards until your knees hit the edge of the couch. Sitting on the armrest, you run your fingers down his toned chest and try to remember that this will be a one time thing. He wasn’t yours and this wouldn’t be like all the other times you and he had been intimate.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to your chest. “So please, don’t say anything else.”

Leon could only nod, regret filling him at what he knew he made run through your head. You thought this was all he wanted, when in reality he just wanted you back.

He leaned down and gently grabbed either side of your face as he kissed you deeply, pushing you back against the very couch you broke up with him on four fucking months ago.

It was too much, but he couldn’t stop. He was too afraid you’d leave him forever if he did. He really was fucking weak when it came to you. He was selfish.

He wanted you back so badly, his brain couldn’t keep up with his body. His lips were placing kisses desperately to your mouth as he felt your legs wrap around his waist.

Leon wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to function again if you were to never talk to him after this. He didn’t even want to think about it.

But it seemed as if you were doing the opposite.

He kissed along your neck for a few seconds before hearing a sharp intake from you that was followed by the push of your hands against his shoulders. “Wait,” you nearly gasp, sitting up when he instantly pulls away from you, proving to you that he is at least a little better than your past boyfriends. They would have ignored you and continued touching you until they got what they wanted.

Leon stood back and put a bit of distance between the two of you, his eyes guilty and his heart on his sleeve. “I’m sorry,” he says and you just shake your head, straightening your dress back out.

“No, I initiated this. I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me,” you apologize and stand up. “I should go. This was a mistake.”

Leon felt his heart break as you quickly stood up and made your way to the door. He got flashbacks to the day you left him, and he knew he wasn’t prepared to see you walk out that door for the second time.

Maybe he didn’t have to.

You passed by the counter and abruptly stopped, your eyes fixated on something on the granite. Leon held his breath as he watched you move towards the island, your hand reaching out to grab his keys. “Leon,” you gasped quietly, your fingers gently moving something on the chain. He knew what was on it. The ring haunted him every time he used his keys, and that was the exact reason why he attached it to the chain in the first place.

He stayed still when you turned to look back at him, his keys held tightly in your hand.

“You kept it?” You asked in a hoarse voice. You would recognize that ring anywhere, even after only seeing it one time. You couldn’t believe he kept it instead of selling it, and you were heartbroken to discover that he saw it every day whenever he entered or left his house.

Your question offended him, but he’d never show it. “Of course I kept it,” and yet another flashback flickered in his head.

You weren’t sure you wanted the answer, but you asked, anyway, “Why?”

Leon hardly moved as he answered, “As a reminder,”

And it was the truth.

And then you broke your promise as the first of many tears began to fall.

You wished you never met him. Never said yes when he asked you out on a date, said no when he asked you to move in. You wished you didn’t agree to come to that stupid housewarming party, because now you felt lost all over again.

Setting the keys loudly on the counter, you turn to face him fully. “Why?” You asked, your voice angry and shaky as you tried to keep your cool. “Why did you do it? I loved you more than anything else. You saved my life, Leon. Why didn’t that mean anything to you?”

Leon felt his own eyes burn as he stepped away from the couch but made no move to walk over to you. “It means the world to me, Y/n,” he promised, his heart begging his body to take you into his arms, but he held back. “So do you.”

Your lower lip trembled as you moved to stand in front of him. “Why?” You ask again, much quieter this time around. You reach up and push on his chest just slightly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t faze him one bit. And it didn’t. “Why did you go to her?”

Leon refrained from taking your hands that were still on his chest in his. “Because she had something I needed,” he regretfully answered.

Your brows furrow and he knew he accidentally offended you with his poor choice of words. “What, I wasn’t good enough? Didn’t put out enough for you?”

“No,” he said immediately, going against his better judgment again and wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “You’re more than enough for me. You always have been and you will be forever. The thought of doing that with her made me sick and I hate myself for it, but it was the only way she would give me the information I needed for my job.”

Your eyes softened a bit but your whole body was still guarded. “Your job you can’t tell me anything about?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his face twisting up in agony when more tears fell from your eyes. “That’s the only reason I went to her. She had something I needed, but if I ever had to do it all over again, I’d tell her to fuck off and I’d get it some other way. I can’t stand the fact that I hurt you like that.”

You tried to process his words, but you didn’t know what to think anymore.

You believed him, and it was clear he felt awful about all that came out of his encounters with Ada. But you also weren’t sure what he wanted out of this encounter with you. Yeah, it appeared he wanted to fix things, but who’s to say he won’t shatter your heart again?

You couldn’t take much more. You knew that.

“It was just for work?” You asked quietly, avoiding his eyes as he pressed your hand flat against his chest. “You’re not in love with her?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head to further get the point across. “No. I don’t love her, not anymore. Maybe I never did. She never made me feel the things you did and still do. My heart was never hers. It’s yours. Even after tonight, I’ll still be yours, even if you aren’t mine.”

Your eyes were begging for a break, but the tears kept coming. “My heart is yours, Leon. It’s yours to break,” you whisper. “And you did.”

He couldn’t stop himself from taking you into his arms. He wrapped you up and let out a sigh of relief when you let him, and even held onto his waist. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “So fucking sorry. I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’d use my last breath for you, baby. You’re my entire world. You’re everything.”

“Leon,” you beg, bunching his shirt up in your fists. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t hurt me again, I-....I can’t take it.”

“I won’t,” he promised, cradling the back of your head in his hand as if you were the most frail and fragile thing in the world. “I love you so much. It’s you who I want for the rest of my life. I never doubted that. I never want you to doubt that.”

You nod and press your head to his chest. “It’s going to take some time,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe a lot of time-”

“I’ll wait forever for you,” he swore, leaning back and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He was shaking now, disbelief filling his entire being at the fact that you were letting him hold you like this again.

You look over at his keys before meeting his eyes again. “I won’t forget about what you did, Leon,” you murmur, watching the guilt seep back into his blue orbs. “But I’m willing to forgive….I just need time.”

Leon nodded, wrapping you back up in his arms. “I’ll give you all the time you need, I promise,” he rasps. “Just don’t leave me again.”

He had no right asking you that, but he also had no control over his words at this point.

But you just pressed your lips to the side of his neck. “Don’t give me another reason to,”

#leon #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon re #re4 leon #leon smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil x reader #angst

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pedropascallme · 4 months ago

Text

Stars Above

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!Reader

Summary: "Perhaps sensing your discomfort, he smiled, and the thin remnants of his lips cracked open to display yellow teeth. 'You ain’t never seen a ghoul before, vaultie?'"

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) canon typical violence and lots of it, threatening language, angst, description of a panic attack, descriptions of cannibalism and dead bodies, age gap obviously (Cooper is canon 200+ years old; reader is written as early 20s), guided masturbation (f receiving), themes of voyeurism/exhibitionism, a ton of dirty talk, very mild degradation, phonetic spelling of Cooper's accent because I can, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: part 2 here!!

You had miscalculated just about everything about the surface.

You’d underestimated the ability people had to be cold and calculating in their cruelty. You’d underestimated the difficulty of navigating the endless Wasteland. You’d underestimated the effects radiation might have on you, leaving you fatigued and nauseous despite the Rad-X you’d been sure to pack away safely in your satchel.

Maybe you should’ve read the warning label.

What was worse, you thought, was how badly you had overestimated yourself. You were so certain you would be able to make a name for yourself—make a name for those you would meet; find kindness in the sand and friends in low places.

But you were just a small drop in the bucket, and nobody wanted a name. They wanted to survive in silence and safety.

You were out of rations, and nearly out of water. You’d sweat gallons through your vault suit, making the fabric itchy as it clung to your skin, and causing you to shiver sporadically as the setting sun invited a chill over the landscape. You dragged your feet over the sand, leaving a path behind you, and part of you wondered if you should just drop dead right there. The sand was soft, warm, and maybe dying on your own accord would be more comfortable than dying by the hand of someone who would kill you simply for the sheer rush of spilling blood.

You stopped moving, slumping down to the ground and coughing. There was a deep ache in your lungs, and heaving up dry air did little to quell the overall discomfort.

You wove your hands through the sand, letting it fall through your fingers.

Could you just go home? Had you ever really had a home?

You pushed down a wave of nausea, swallowing the bile that pushed up against your throat, Tumbledown buildings crumbled around you, and for once in your life you felt truly small. Once, when you were young, you had been sent to your room, and in a moment of frustrated panic you’d felt as though the walls were caving in on you. You’d stood on your bed, pushing up on tiny tiptoes, pressing your hands to the ceiling, refusing to let the walls squeeze you into a cube of yourself.

You smiled at the memory. You wished now more than ever that you could stand on your toes and push against the sky.

You heard something echo in the distance, and, flinching, squinted up into the horizon. Metal rooves reflected against the fading burden of the sun; another echo sounded, something like spurs on scrap, and you sighed, heart heavy in your chest.

Maybe this town would be the one to offer solace.

You stood on tired legs, making haste in the direction of the noise.

~~~

The tinny sounds had ceased long before you walked through the broken arch announcing the town. It was desolate, as if everybody had vacated the area before you’d made contact. Part of you took it personally, and you pouted rather childishly.

In the dimly lit dusk, you roamed the empty paths under flickering lights, stepping over caps and carts that had been turned over. When you came across a body, it became apparent that the clamor you had followed was the result of a gunfight.

You stepped over the body, too.

You had never stared at death before making your way to the surface, and it had come as a shock to you that it didn’t bother you more. Blood wasn’t as bright as it was in the movies, nor did killers give any heated last words before pulling the trigger. Any executions you had seen thus far were dull and hurried. You thought back to an old movie you watched once, one that ended with a cowboy executing a rowdy criminal, and you wondered if anybody bothered to monologue their slaughters the way he had.

You’d long forgotten the title of the film and the name of the actor, but you remembered finding him handsome.

You stooped on bent knees to pick up a piece of fruit that had fallen from one of the overturned carts. You sat there, gnawing at it, feeling the sour bites you took fall into your empty stomach. You made it to the core, tossing it over your shoulder and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. But you paused, remnants of the bitter juice still on your lips when your head shot up to analyze your surroundings.

Someone was watching you.

The sound of footsteps approaching were made all the more unsettling when paired with a boisterous, ugly laugh. Still on your knees, you squared your shoulders, looking up to meet the eyes of a man in bloodied garb and a gun on his hand.

“Saw you eating that,” his teeth were sharp, and his voice high, “Not good to litter, vaultie.” He stopped in front of you, hands on his hips as he scrutinized you. “Why don’t you go crawl over and pick that up.”

You didn’t move. He put his hands on his knees to lean over you, fumbling with his revolver.

“No,” you tried to sound confident, though your voice was quiet and didn’t carry far, “I don’t want to. Thank you.”

He howled, and it made you wince. “Thank you, now that’s sweet,” his gun came up to poke under your chin, “Thank you…I wasn’t asking, girl.”

You tried to find your voice again, but the barrel of the gun was pressed into your neck, and you knew he would seize on any reason to pull the trigger. You inhaled through your nose, trying to buy yourself some time.

A shadow came up behind you, wrapping you in darkness as something approached soundlessly. The man in front of you faltered, and you watched as the confidence drained from his eyes.

“Ain’t that sweet…” A drawling voice, almost saccharine, came from the source of the shadow, and you knew then that it was someone. “Find y'self a toy there, Otis?”

The man—Otis, maybe—who had previously seemed so cocky with his demands, retreated into himself slightly, straightening back up to his full height to meet the eyes of whoever stood behind you.

“You’re not welcome here, Ghoul,” he scowled, “Finders keepers.”

“Well, now, I don’ think y’really in any position to give orders.” It was only now you that wondered whether you were being fought over not out of any sympathetic, weeping heart on behalf of the person behind you, or whether this was a battle for who got to see your blood flow.

“Yeah?” Otis chuckled, “Why’s that?”

You saw the man behind you gesture with his gun in your peripheral. “You got a hole in yo’ neck.”

You watched Otis squint in confusion in the split second before a shot whirred above your head and hit him clean through the throat. He crumpled to the ground, gagging on death, before he let out a damning noise and ceased all movement.

You took deep, shaky breaths, finding the courage to stand up, to turn around and get a good look at your savior.

When you did finally came face level with the man called ‘Ghoul,’ you felt that your initial instinct in referring to a thing behind you had been more apt after all.

His skin was reddened and chapped, marred with scars that covered his face and ran down his neck. He was hairless, as far as you could tell, and his eyes were sunken deep below the ridge where his eyebrows should’ve been. He was decked out in a cowboy costume, long duster to match his Stetson, gun strapped to his hip that paired nicely with his ammo belt.

He had no nose.

Perhaps sensing your discomfort, he smiled, and the thin remnants of his lips cracked open to display yellow teeth. “You ain’t never seen a ghoul before, vaultie?”

You continued to scan his face, and after a few fleeting moments you met his eyes; you couldn’t tell what color they were, if they were hazel or brown or maybe just yellow, muted by the evening, and the shadow cast over his face by the brim of his hat.

No matter the color, you thought they were pretty all the same.

You hesitated, shaking your head.

“Well, ain’t you lucky. Now yo’meetin’ The Ghoul.” His eyes widened, menacing but amused, and you took a step back, nearly stumbling on Otis’s lifeless feet.

“Th—um. Thank you,” you ignored his grandiose introduction, “For…” You gestured behind you.

The Ghoul tipped his hat forward, “Not a problem.” He took a step back, mirroring your movements, “C’mon now. S’dark.”

You made a face, “Oh—no, I…Thank you, for, you know, for helping me out, but I don’t—I’m not really looking for—”

He whistled, and the shrill cut you off, “You really don’know a question if it hit ya in the ribs, sweetheart.” He smirked, “I wasn’t askin’.”

“But I don’t,” you started, watching as he unraveled a rope from his side and tied a knot into it, “I would rather not go with you. I’m—you caught me at a bad time, really, I’m usually just fine by myself.”

“Well…” He tightened the knot, “you keep tellin’ yourself that while we walk.” He swung the rope over his head, and you realized too late that he had been tying a lasso. It came down around your midriff, trapping your hands at your sides when he pulled.

“Hey!” You tried to fight, moving your elbows beneath the constraint and burning your skin in the process.

The Ghoul circled you, stooping down to pick up the gun that had fallen off of Otis’s person, before his face came to peek over your shoulder, cheek to cheek with you. “Hi, there.” He smirked, tugging your restrictions.

~~~

You were used to endless roaming by now. It’s all there was to do; outrun the danger before it could find you, then do the same again when faced with a new conundrum. But the Ghoul walked fast, long strides made tuneful with the help of the spurs on his boots. There was a nice consistency, the metal almost sounded like a lilting voice, though you wished it was less frantic.

You had lost feeling in your fingers, unable to grip your belongings properly, and in a kind gesture that you hadn’t expected from him, the Ghoul hoisted your bag onto his shoulder. You were stiff and sore, and maybe the rope was keeping blood from rushing to your brain, because you couldn’t stop staring at him from behind, watching the way his gloved hand pressed into the bag—your bag—on his hip.

“Where are we going?” You piped up, breaking the silence you’d been stewing in for the past hour. You got no response, so you pushed on. “Where are you taking me?” He didn’t break his stride, pulling you along like the lost puppy you were. You pulled your body against the strain of the rope, digging your heels into the ground and stopping in your tracks. “And what’s a ghoul?”

You watched his shoulders slump as he, too, came to a halt. He let out a sigh, turning around to face you. “Nowhere,” he counted on his fingers as he began to answer your questions in order, “Wherever I go. Me.”

You shifted awkwardly on your feet. “So…you’re the only one?”

“Never said that.” He turned his back to you again. “Y’see that clearin’ there,” he pointed into the distance at a group of rocks sunken into the sand. “That’s your bed t’night.” He started walking again, and you followed suit.

The night cast long shadows over the expansive nothingness, and the air made you shiver. The wind pushed at your hair, which in turn clung to your temples with the excess sweat of the day.

“You aren’t the only one, then,” you kept talking, “Are you—is it the radiation? Or are you a…a people?”

He let out a short chuckle. “The only people left. Far’s I’m concerned.” He skirted around your question, leading you around the rocks and finding a comfortable spot that left you hidden in the darkness. He dropped the rope, tossing your bag to the side as he did so, and you grumbled about how he shouldn’t be so careless with things that weren’t his own. He ignored you, walking over with an expressionless face and deftly tugging the knot from the rope. It fell in a heap around your ankles, and you let out a thankful, happy noise. He tossed a glance your way, eyeing you almost curiously, before beginning to make a small fire at the center of your open-air hideout.

You fell to the ground, exhausted, and addled by the events of the past few hours. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back. The rock behind you may well have been a pillow, the ache in your bones finding comfort in even the most unyielding of resting places.

You opened your eyes tentatively, reluctant to see any more of the Wasteland that you had so callously thought would welcome you with open arms. When you finally blinked up, the blackness of the night blanketed you, and with it, there were stars.

Not stars like the ones on a TV screen. Not stars like the ones behind your eyes after staring into your lamp for too long. Not stars like the ones you drew on your ceiling as a child. Not stars like the ones projected in the common area during a dinner you were told was meant to authentically replicate a Fourth of July celebration.

Real stars.

Gaseous beings that reflected against the sand, lightyears away but close enough to touch, if you could just reach out and grab one; cradle it in your cupped hands and let the fire permeate your palms.

Treat it like a child. Treat it beautifully.

“What’re you lookin’ at,” the Ghoul’s rasp broke you from your existential musings.

You looked forward, finding his sunken eyes across the light of the fire that paled in comparison to the light above you. “If you…if you wanted to kill me, I’m ready now.”

You watched weathered skin stretch taut across his yellowed teeth. You knew it was, perhaps, a bit inappropriate, but for a moment you couldn’t ignore the way the word ‘beautiful’ bounced around your head when you looked at him.

“Not gonna kill ya,” he poked at the fire with a stick, “No good t’me dead.”

“Well then, what?” You lost your filter, uncaring. There were stars in the sky, there was air on your skin, and you didn’t care if you died in the middle of the barren land your ancestors would have once called home. “What good am I to you alive?” You let a laugh out, thin and strained, “Are you just keeping me around so I—so I don’t get lonely?”

He tossed the stick to the side, and the sand caught it with a pathetic thump. “How long you been in them vaults?” He leaned forward.

You made a face, searching for a tone in his gaze. “My whole life,” you scoffed. He knew that.

“’N how long you been up here for?”

You looked away, embarrassed, and tried to hide how you attempted to count the days on your fingers. “I…don’t know…” You gave up.

“You don’ know,” he stared into the fire, “Don’t know shit about lonely.” There was a beat of silence, and the whisper of the wind filled the gap in conversation. He straightened out, meeting your eyes again and smirking as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just been thrown back to a time when he would’ve come home to a freshly cooked meal and his daughter on his hip and his dog circling his feet. “Plus,” he rustled a hand in his pocket, pulling out an inhaler and taking a puff, “You’ll make good bait.”

“Good bait?” You interrogated him.

“Ya noticed how bad news seems t’follow you round here?” He stretched his arms behind his head, and you felt a sudden heat on your cheeks that you chalked up to sunburn. “Pretty thing like you pro’ly has a whole army o’folks after her. ‘N I’m guessing them folks ain’t the kind you’d like t’hang around.”

“Like you?” You raised a brow, throwing his words back at him.

“You’d like that,” he huffed. “Darlin’, I’m playin’ the oldest game there is: set a trap ‘n the critters will fall into’t.”

You mulled over what he’d said, narrowing your eyes and looking at your hands as you came to your conclusion. “You’re talking about—you’re a bounty hunter…” You looked back up at him, and he was grinning. “And you’re talking about using me as a decoy!” Your posture straightened, and you stared daggers into him.

“Guilty as charged,” he tilted his head at you.

“You can’t do that—I’m not just going to let you do that.” You fumed.

“Don’t have to,” he shrugged, jutting out his lower lip, “Can leave right now, ‘f’ya want.” His features morphed into a grim smirk, “But I don’t think a li’l vaultie like you knows a goddamn thing 'bout what’s waitin’ round the corner.”

You swallowed, trying to form a biting response, but he continued.

“But, hell, f’you wanna risk it…” he put the inhaler back into one of his pockets, “Be my guest, vaultie. Free t’go.”

You huffed, and he smiled. He was right, and you both knew it; left to your own devices, you'd be dead in that town he found you in. You settled into your fate.

“Don’t call me vaultie.” You muttered, tired of the way the seemingly derogatory title had been hurled at you since you first emerged from the safety of your life underground.

“Gonna have to tell me y’name, then,” he tilted his head, waiting. You told him your name, and he laughed. “Look’it that. Friends already.”

“You’re not my friend,” you didn’t know where the venom was coming from; somewhere between him helping you out and him sitting in front of you now, you’d decided he was attractive, charismatic, maybe not the worst company you could be stuck with. But after learning what your new role was, you felt more than a little cheated.

“Damn right I’m not.” He whistled, and you turned away from him, curling into a ball on the ground.

“’M going to sleep,” you grumbled. “Wake me up if you decide to go fishing,” you raised your head for a moment, “You’ll need your lure.”

That got you a real laugh, the first genuine sound you'd heard from him.

And you liked it, despite the ire you felt towards him now.

~~~

You woke up under the blazing sun with sand in your hair. You blinked hard, trying to remember where you were, how you got there, and what had happened to your bag.

Your questions were answered when a shadow engulfed you from above, and you looked up to face the Ghoul.

He had his hat off, letting you gather more evidence to support your belief that he was completely hairless. He stayed quiet, looming over you and watching you groan under the misfortune of wakefulness.

You grunted at him, pushing yourself up to stand, shaking the sand from your body as you did. “You didn’t wake me up last night.”

“You complainin’?” He knit his naked brow.

“No…just, I figured you might want me to keep watch,” you dug sand from your ear, “You trying to tell me that you’re fine just going without sleep?”

“Succeedin’, by the sound of it,” he smirked, and you pursed your lips. “You can stay up as late as ya want next time, darlin’. Don’ let me stop ya.”

“I won’t.” You snatched your bag from his hand and turned to find a way out of the maze of rocks you’d slept in.

He grinned. “Lead on, then.”

And you did, spending several days on a loop; walk, rest, walk, sleep, wake up, pick a direction, repeat. He shared rations and water, he let you sleep when he could’ve forced you to take watch, but he was quiet. It was as if he was so used to life as a predator that he couldn’t even toy with the idea of letting his guard down when there was nobody but you around for miles upon miles. And it wasn't as if you were any threat to him.

It drove you crazy. The benefit that came with having someone like him, skilled and sharp, was greatly dampened by the lack of any real socialization.

You were grateful, at the very least, that it had only taken him a night to decide you no longer needed to be constrained; you liked being able to carry your own things, and, even more, being able to use your own hands. Your arms still felt raw, fading rope burn wounds licking shallowly at your skin under your sleeves, but at least you were free to stretch them now.

The Ghoul stayed several steps behind you when you walked, always keeping his distance but watching closely as you struggled to pretend to know where you were going.

Now, you wiped sweat from your forehead, stopping momentarily to let a cool breeze whip at your face.

“Hell are you doin’ now?” The Ghoul’s dry voice was carried to you by the wind. It was the first thing he’d said to you, unprompted, in two days.

“Feels good,” you sighed, turning to him with your eyes closed and holding your arms out beside you, “The wind. It’s nice.”

“Won’t be in a second.” You opened your eyes to green clouds in the distance behind him. “Because that,” he motioned back at the clouds with his head, “s’a radstorm. And you,” he tipped his hat at you, grazing the brim with his fingers, “Ain’t gonna do too well out in it.”

As if on cue, a bolt of lightning shot down, followed by a loud clap, emphasizing the Ghoul’s words.

“Better have some Rad-X in that bag, sweetheart,” his lips were parted, and you noticed that, although his teeth were yellowed by years of chewing on god knows what, they were remarkably straight. “Oughta get ya under cover.”

You’d heard about radstorms, and assumed, in your naivete, that you’d be able to make it through one without any problems. But the speed at which the disagreeably green clouds approached, and the tone of voice used by your companion, made you feel as though this, too, was something you’d been wrong about.

Maybe you went pale, looking as nauseous as you felt, but then there was a guiding hand on your waist. You jumped, unprepared for any contact and ready to gripe about it, before following the man’s gaze beyond a small sand hill.

“C’mon,” his eyes stayed trained on a ramshackle house just a short distance away, “Can wait it out.”

You nodded, falling over your own feet when he began walking at a brisk pace. The hand he’d placed on the small of your back worked as leverage to get you to hurry up and match his stride.

You closed the door just as the wind started to pick up.

“Woo,” the Ghoul raised his arms above his head, stretching. “S’a nice place we got here.”

You looked around the building; some remaining wallpaper clung to the walls for dear life, there was a couch that looked to be more sand than cushion, and a single table, overturned, in the corner.

“Is it?” You questioned.

“Ya wanna go check outside, see f’ya prefer that?” He challenged, and you backed down, scowling at him.

“How long will the storm last?” You trailed your eyes over the cabin, trying to see if there was anything worth looking at.

There wasn’t.

“An hour,” the Ghoul situated himself on the sofa, “A day. Maybe two.” He took off his hat, fanning himself with it.

“So…we’re stuck here?” You finally let your eyes wander over to him, finding yourself oddly enamored by the way his high, hollow cheekbones framed his face.

“You got somewhere you wanna be?” He stretched his arms over the back of the couch, leaning back and spreading his legs. You blamed the pulse that went through you on radiation, turning away to rummage through your pack for Rad-X.

“Just not much to do.” You swallowed the pill, kicking at a pile of sand that had found its way onto the wooden floor.

“Welcome to the surface, darlin’,” he gestured vaguely, and you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile that etched itself onto your lips.

“Doesn’t help that you don’t talk.” You tried to fill the silence that you knew was imminent.

“Talkin’ now,” he shot back, moving his hips from the couch to get properly settled, and you knew you couldn’t blame radiation for the way you squeezed your thighs together.

“Yeah, but,” you acquiesced to your urge to join him on the old sofa, “I’ve known you for less than a week, and even I can tell it’s a rarity.”

“Maybe I just don’t like you,” he smirked, putting his hat back on, and you frowned at him.

“Then you wouldn’t be keeping me around for company.”

“Bait,” he corrected you.

“Call it what you want,” you let your head fall back onto the couch, “Still choosing to keep me around.” You waited anxiously to see if he would point out that it was you who had taken the opportunity to stick with him, after his vague threat of what loomed in the wastes made you back down from your plan to run that first night.

You closed your eyes, listening to the storm batter the house outside. He took the moment to look at you, analyzing your features. He took in the positive glow that reflected off of you, yet to be rubbed off by the experiences you were sure to have.

Maybe he’d be able to buy you some time. Maybe that glow wouldn’t fade.

“Sure,” he nodded, “Whatever y’wanna tell yourself.”

You nudged his knee with yours. It was an adolescent approach, something you would’ve done during classes; playing footsie with the boy you thought was cute, with his hair slicked back and his vault suit pressed and tidy. Something done for attention, in the hopes that maybe he’d take even the smallest of hints and return the childish gesture of affection.

The Ghoul was not pressed and tidy. But, and you were slowly admitting it to yourself, he was cute.

You couldn’t see yourself ever admitting it to him.

“You never answered my question yesterday,” you realized now was as good a time as any to quiz him, stuck with you while the storm raged. “What’s a ghoul?”

“Yes, I did,” he had let his eyes close, too, “I am.”

“That’s not a good answer.” You tsked, “I wanna know—I want the real answer,” you moved to sit on your knees, “Give me the real answer.”

He opened his eyes, scanning you up and down. “Yer damn good bait, sweetheart,” he nodded, giving in and facing you. You thought maybe he was paying you a compliment, but you swallowed the urge to ask him what he meant. “I don’t know what to tell ya other than I am a ghoul.”

“Why?” You pressed.

“Why’d’ya think?” He countered, “Case you didn’t notice, we ain’t in one o’your underground lairs. Radiation’s gonna get us all, and when it does,” he leaned forward, “Y’gonna look just like me.”

You swallowed, unsure if this was a threat or a warning. You looked down at his gloved hands, then back up at him. “Does it hurt?”

His expression was blank. You continued.

“Your—is it your skin?” You tried to clarify, “Does it hurt?”

His expression gradually changed to one of confusion as he processed your words; nobody had ever asked him something as simple as that. “Don’t hurt. f’I get shot…stings for a sec, but…y’get used to it.”

“So, you can’t really feel it?”

“Oh,” he let out a low chuckle, “I can feel it. Where it counts.”

You stuck out your tongue, and heat crept over the back of your neck. “Don’t be crude.”

“Ain’t try’na be,” he smiled, “You’re the one whose mind’s wanderin’.”

“So it just feels like skin?” You changed the subject, “Or is it more like muscle…or scar tissue?” Without thinking, you raised your hand and extended it forward, curiosity getting the best of you. He caught your wrist in his hand, the leather on his fingers pressing softly into your bone. You gasped, and he looked at you, cautious, fingers shifting on your skin. As if in slow motion, he raised your hand to his face, and you stretched out two fingers to ever so gently graze down his cheek.

His breath caught in his throat, startled by the intimacy of having someone touch him just to touch him. To feel him.

Similarly, you’d stopped breathing all together.

His skin was ridged and rough, but the small grooves between the scarred flesh were smooth, almost downy. You didn’t look him in the eyes, though you could sense his as they bore into you. You chose to examine the rest of his face instead, the bumps and scars and jagged edges that your hand ghosted over. Finally, you gave in, looking into his eyes for only a brief moment.

He had eyelashes. Small lashes, barely noticeable beneath his hat and the sunken hollows of his eyes, but they were definitely there. He looked pretty, this small part of him capturing some kind of hidden essence of humanity underneath his daunting character. The tiny detail had caught you off guard more than the act of being allowed to touch him had, and your fingers faltered, stuttering against his skin.

You let your hand go limp in his grip, and he let you retract it.

“So?” He questioned after a beat.

“What?”

“What’d’t feel like?”

“Oh,” you remembered what had led you to the opportunity to touch him in the first place, “Scar tissue.” You landed on, easier to say that than trying to explain that you thought his skin was as comfortable as velvet to drag your fingers across.

He lifted a brow, nodding in approval.

“How come you don’t have a nose?” More questions bubbled from your throat before you could stop them, eager to force the tension in the atmosphere to dissipate.

“God almighty, y’ask a lot of fuckin’ questions,” he wiped a hand down his face, “Decades of radiation ain’t forgivin’ on cartilage.”

“Decades?” You narrowed your eyes playfully.

“Don’t you go askin’ more, now,” he chided, “Ain’t polite to ask someone their age, they not teach you that down there?”

You dropped it for now. “You still have ears. Those are cartilage.”

“Not part of the original model.” He smirked, and when he saw you tilt your head, confused, he took a deep breath and continued, “Sometimes, darlin’, ya gotta use what ya find.”

Your eyes went wide, “They’re—you stole body parts?” Your eyes narrowed again, “You’re lying.”

He didn’t answer verbally, just shot a devious smile your way.

“How come I can’t see your brain?” You bounced to your next question.

“Would ya like to?” He shot back, and you cringed. “Didn’t think so.”

“But how come—”

“Jesus Christ,” he dipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his inhaler and taking two short puffs, “Can I get a word in, here?”

You let your next question die in your mouth, shelving it for later. You nodded.

“Why’d you come up here?” The Ghoul’s voice took a softer edge, and you couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or if he had some genuine interest in your case.

Either way, you thought it was improper, and you shook your head, barely enough for it to be noticeable. You’d been trying to ask the obvious questions, things you were certain he was asked all the time, that he’d have answers for at the ready. You hadn’t asked about his life, how he got out here or why he dressed like a goddamn gunslinger. You could’ve, but you were trying to be at least a little bit polite.

“That’s not fair.” You said simply.

“Alright, how come you got a nose,” he smirked, letting his words hang in the air before they dropped at his feet when he saw the way your demeanor had changed on a dime. “Now, look—I didn’t mean to make y'upset, sweetheart—”

“I, uh…” You took a long breath, gearing up for the challenge of communicating a logical answer. “…Do you ever sit somewhere so nice for so long, and then after a while you start thinking that it’s too good to be true?” You looked up at him, and the tears in your eyes were evident, “Like, maybe you sat on something, or the whole time there was a snake in the grass right next to you...or something?”

The Ghoul watched your face intently, hardly nodding.

“And even though the snake didn’t lunge at you, or, you know, you got to enjoy the peace and quiet before getting up and noticing you sat on something, it’s like, you’re flooded with these what ifs about what would’ve happened if you’d been sitting just a second longer…” You were looking at him, but you weren’t, really; your eyes went right through him, and you pictured a time when you thought nothing could ever go wrong. “Or if you’d never sat there at all.” You blinked, shaking your head, and you wiped a tear that had dared to breach over your lash line. “I had to get up, right? Outfit was stained…and I could see the snake getting ready to…make quick work of me.”

You cradled your chin in your hands, trying to control your breathing so you wouldn’t have to subject yourself to the embarrassment of crying in front of someone that likely wouldn’t care.

Your explanation echoed in the Ghoul’s mind. He thought about his divorce, that dumb fucking suit he’d been conned into wearing without really knowing what it meant.

A snake and a stain. He understood.

“Ain’t no snakes up here,” he tried his hand at reassuring you, “Can’t promise y’won’t get dirty, though.”

“I know,” you sniffed, “Got blood on me already.” You knew it was stupid to complain about, but you didn’t even know whose blood it was.

“There’ll be more,” he sighed, “But you’ll care less.”

You let yourself laugh softly. “Yeah,” you wiped your eyes, “Yeah. I hope you’re right.”

“I tend to be.” He smirked, back to his carefree, cocky demeanor. You rolled your eyes weakly, laughing quietly, and you found yourself leaning against him. His shoulder was stiff beneath your head, like he wasn’t sure how to hold himself in the situation that you’d put him in. You turned your head slightly, nosing his neck, and he didn’t stop you, though he stayed rigid.

You let yourself breathe him in; arid and smoky, the leather of his clothes mingling with the scent of sun that clung to his skin. There was something else, a note of iron buried under the warmer scents, the cold bouquet of dry blood. Having death flood your nose like that, you recognized, probably should’ve been alarming, perhaps even petrifying. But it wasn’t—not on him.

You liked it.

You sat back up, your face close to his, and if he had a nose, you were sure it would be touching your own. He didn’t look upset as his eyes darted over your face, which felt reassuring, even though you already knew you hadn’t really done anything wrong.

“Y’hear that?” He muttered.

“What?” You turned your head, trying to listen for whatever he was hearing.

“Storm stopped,” he cracked a small smile at you, and you breathed a sigh of relief. He stood up, making his way over the floor. “C’mon, darlin’,” he gestured to the door, “See if we can catch ourselves a rainbow.”

You let out a real, honest to god laugh. It gave you a hint of whiplash, how the Ghoul had managed to save your life, make you hate him, and then make you want to kiss him in such rapid succession over the course of only a few days.

You found yourself suddenly aloof to the idea that he was threatening to use you as a lure for unsuspecting bounties. He was keeping you around, keeping you safe, and you liked him just fine.

Maybe even a little more than that.

~~~

How far, at this point, had you walked? Miles of ground in front of you, miles of ground behind you. It felt like you’d gone nowhere, despite the thousands of steps you’d taken over the course of the week. You were going nowhere, you reminded yourself; aimlessly trekking across the Wasteland and finding what there was to find, looking at what there was to look at.

The Ghoul didn’t seem to have a job at the moment. He’d made it clear that he was employed—if you could call being a bounty hunter a regular nine-to-five—but he hadn’t made any moves to imply that he was searching for anybody, or anything, unless you were to count the vials and chems he ransacked from every hole and hovel he came across.

He continued to surprise and delight, and occasionally disgust, you. You’d seen him eat the raw flesh of dead and desiccated creatures—some that looked human—off the sand. (“Remember what I said, ‘bout usin’ whatcha find?” “That’s disgusting, you don’t know what kind of germs could be crawling around there.” “Think someone that looks like me’s worried ‘bout germs, sweetheart?”) You’d seen him draw a weapon faster than you could take a breath; you’d seen him kill a man without blinking.

But you were wowed by him all the same, the rasp of his voice and the way he whistled through his teeth, the life behind his eyes that teemed with stories of a past you hadn’t been able to shake out of him yet. You hadn’t touched him, had barely closed the often yard-wide gap between the two of you that had become the unspoken norm, since the day the radstorm hit.

Maybe it was for the best. What would your family say about him? They'd be disgusted, horrified by the mere thought of him.

That just made you want him more.

“Can we stop soon?” You withdrew yourself from your thoughts, tired of the way your muscles tensed with every step. The Ghoul didn’t respond, side-eyeing you from beneath his hat. “I’m tired. My legs hurt.” He smirked, and you thought you heard him huff a laugh, but the distance between you was too vast to pick up on the smaller sounds. “Don’t laugh at me, I can’t help you if I can’t move.”

That got his attention. “Y'think you’re helpin’ me?” He smiled.

“Not burdening you…” You argued about what he’d left unsaid.

“Not doin’ much work, either.” He grunted, and you shot him a dirty look. “Keep on walkin’, darlin’.”

“I don’t want to.” You stomped your foot, regressing into the same shielded, spoiled vault-dweller you knew he thought you were.

“Then how ya gonna get over there’?” He nodded forward, and you followed the direction of his gesture, squinting to see a large, semi-burnt down storefront. “C’mon, sweetheart.” He kept walking, picking up his pace and forcing you to speed up after him. “Y’wanna break, or what?”

The building was in alright condition, as far as the other spaces you’d seen; the windows were broken, the glass finding its way to the ground and becoming sand after what must have been centuries of effort. Someone had started a fire, and ash flaked off the brick. You forced yourself on tired limbs to close the distance between yourself and shelter.

“Go on,” the Ghoul leaned against the doorframe of the store’s entrance, “Check it out.”

“You’re not coming?” You whispered. You knew he wasn’t. This, too, had become common: you were sent in—bait—and he followed behind you at a distance to keep an eye out on who- or whatever might jump out.

He stayed quiet, showing his teeth, and you pouted at him, making your way deeper into the old store.

There was no electricity, but the sun seeped through the cracks in the walls as it began to dip in the sky, creating an almost cozy ambiance. It was huge, the ceilings were high and the store itself must have once housed a near infinite amount of material goods.

You’d be lucky now if you could find a corner that hadn’t already been raided.

Everything was bathed in grays and blues, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the way your eyes adjusted to the dim light, or if the building had been standing for so long that the color had drained out into the desert. Either way, it was eerie, and your finger trembled on the trigger of the rusted pistol the Ghoul had given you as a means of self-preservation. You didn’t really know how to use it, but it was the principle of the thing, you figured.

You maneuvered your way around spent bullet casings and glass, trying to stay silent despite the echo of your footsteps. You heard spurs behind you, the Ghoul following your trail at a safe distance. There was a clamoring, something further into the building down a dark hall that sounded like machinery groaning. You jumped, and the gun in your hand slipped from your grip, sliding across the floor with a harsh skid.

You froze, wincing, and listening for any sign that you’d been heard. The sound of the Ghoul’s steps behind you had also stopped, and you knew then that you’d fucked up—if he was listening, waiting the way you were, then there was cause for alarm. With your heart beating in your ears, you bent forward, fingers creeping across the floor until you managed to get a grip on the tarnished metal of the gun. Standing with a sigh, you worked on regulating your breathing, trying to ease the way your heart beat in your ears.

And then you heard the snap of glass shattering, the rhythm of voices without any real words besides grunts and snarls. You jumped, and your back hit a wall with an unceremonious thump before you fell to your knees.

The sources of the noise approached, surrounding you and leaving you with no route out. You looked straight ahead at withered limbs, clothing torn around ankles and skin peeling off of bone.

And when you looked up, it was him.

Except it wasn’t, not really; the Ghoul was only one man, and before you stood four. All similarly scarred, with broken teeth and missing noses, but there was no individuality—no light in their eyes to tip you off as to who they may have been, once upon a time. The sounds they made were inhuman, screeches that seemed torn from their lungs, maybe due to pain, maybe due to joy, you couldn’t tell. And as they circled you, you didn’t want to find out.

You fumbled with your pistol, unsure of whether the safety was on or off. Your aim was unsteady, and the darting movements of the figures that crowded you made it even more difficult to find a proper target. You winced, aiming at a leg and pulling the trigger.

There was a bang, but it didn’t come from your weapon.

“Gotta do all th’fuckin’ work,” you heard the Ghoul, snide and confident even despite the gravity of the situation. He shot to kill, quick to find weakness, and chuckling when they fell in heaps atop their own feet.

You watched him kick at a corpse. The noise subsided as he holstered his weapon, but you had covered your ears and were unwilling to remove your hands.

“Hell was that?” The Ghoul was standing in front of you now, his voice muffled through your palms. You stared past him at the bodies on the ground, at one point daring to let your eyes dart from the deceased to the man who killed them and back; the similarities were glaring, and it made bile rise to the back of your mouth, fighting your throat’s constriction as you choked down tears.

And suddenly you were sobbing, pulse beating hard against your skin and sweat collecting on your back. You felt sick, you felt scared—maybe even betrayed. You were panicking, unable to breathe or speak or think, only aware of the fact that you were utterly terrified.

“Well, now—hey,” You’d uncovered your ears, wrapping your arms around your knees and squeezing them to your chest, letting the Ghoul’s voice travel to you with more ease.

“Y—” you felt like you were hyperventilating, “You.” Trying to voice your concerns proved difficult in this state.

The Ghoul watched on, the muscle in his jaw tightening as he debated what to do.

He didn’t like you like this. He liked you feisty and stubborn, chatty and glowing. In the dark light of the building, splattered with feral blood and choking on your own breath, you were far from what he’d gotten used to. It startled him a little, not the image of you crying—he’d seen you cry before, and he'd seen far worse from others—but the knowledge that, to an extent, it was his fault.

And he could blame his response on the part of him that still felt shame, something that morphed into a nagging urge to defend himself against accusations of being a downright monster. But he knew, deep down somewhere, that it was because of the part of him that still felt compassion; empathy, even fondness, for you.

That’s why he sat next to you, sliding his back down against the wall while you spluttered and coughed through tears.

He eased the old pistol away from you, pushing it into a crack in the wall and cursing himself for letting you have it in the first place. You’d be better off without it; he’d do all he could to keep you protected.

“Not me, darlin’,” he kept his voice low, “Ferals. Of which I am not one…” Yet, he could’ve mentioned, but even he could choose denial.

“They look—had your face.” You heaved, rocking back slightly.

“You really think I’m that ugly?” He laughed, but you remained despondent, painted with a thousand-yard stare. He took on a different approach. “Listen, now. C’mon, sweetheart, look.” He draped a hand over your shoulder, and despite the loose, open-ended nature of the touch, you felt significantly more grounded. “’Member how I said this face’ll be everybody’s someday?”

You nodded, remembering his jab at your question during the radstorm. Your heartbeat wailed against your skull.

“’N then, someday…” He hadn’t experienced difficulty in picking his word choice like this since trying to answer Janey’s question about where babies came from. “Someday it all turns to shit. You turn into a—a nameless drop in the bucket.” He said, frankly. “But it’s, uh…it’s preventable, to an extent.”

“You don’t have a name.” You stared at him, skin blotchy and eyes swollen. It broke his heart a little. “You already don’t have a name.”

“Happens to the best ‘f us.” He tamped down the stutter in his chest, finding a way to circumvent your unspoken question. "All ghouls, eventually...go a little feral."

“All ghouls turn feral…” You repeated the moral of his story, and he nodded.

He fished a vial from him pocket, holding it out to you. “Long as I got these, I’ll be jus’ peachy.”

You let him drop the vial in your hand, looking at the off-color liquid inside of it and squeezing it in your palm. “I don’t want…” You let go of the glass, holding it back out to him. “I don’t want it to happen to you.”

“Makes two of us,” he put the vial back into his pocket, sighing. “But I got plenty o’these, ‘n there’s always more t'be found.”

You stayed quiet, letting your limbs finally relax and spreading your legs out in front of you. There was a long pause that you spent calming your heart rate, letting your lungs relax.

“I like you the way you are.” You whispered, and it was those words that finally made him own his feelings; the way you are. Not the way you were, not who you could’ve been or who you were meant to be. You appreciated him as he was, and it was the first time in more than two centuries that he had felt any sense of warmth from another living thing. It was the first time in just as long that he’d felt like a man and not a monstrosity.

It was why he didn’t fight it when you wrapped yourself around him, arms tugging him down into a tight hug. He scoffed at the display of what he assumed—hoped—was affection, but he let his arms circle your body.

Your face pressed into his neck, firmer than the brief moment you’d shared on the couch, and you breathed him in now just as you had then; the heat and the tin of his skin, the leather of his duster, and the iron of his ammo belt that dug into your front. He was softer now, malleable to your touch, unlike the stiff, unmoving man he’d been when you leaned up against him all those weeks ago.

He rested his chin on the crown of your head, taking a long, deep breath. “’N I like you much more when you ain’t blubberin’ like a goddamn newborn.”

You giggled, knowing that it was the closest he'd get to telling you that he cared, even a little bit.

“The stars,” you mumbled against him, and he pulled back, trying to look down at your face.

“What’s’at?”

“That first night, outside. You asked me what I was looking at,” you explained, “And I told you that you could kill me if you wanted, instead of just answering you. But I was looking at the stars…” You sighed, settling back against the wall.

He scoffed. “Jus’ stars.”

“No.” You argued, “Not just stars. They’re everything.” You tilted your head at him, and he accepted with a shrug.

He let his head loll back, removing his hat and scanning the surroundings. He caught a glimpse of something in his peripheral, a wide crack in the upper part of the wall that let the night seep in. He elbowed you, nodding his chin in the direction of the hole that opened the building to the sky.

“Look‘t that.” He smiled at the way you lit up next to him, and he followed your gaze to appreciate the view in silence with you.

Comfortable next to him, centimeters replacing the usual feet between you, you saw life in the stars the same way you saw life behind his eyes. And he didn’t understand your excitement, until he looked hard enough and saw the same shimmer in the sky that he saw in you.

“Cooper.” He mumbled, still looking at the stars. You turned to him, lips parted in preparation to ask what he was talking about. “My name. I got one—Cooper.”

You smiled, an inexplicable sense of tranquility washing over you as the new knowledge settled in your brain. “Cooper.” You said, testing the weight of the letters on your tongue.

“Don’t go usin’ it up. Make me regret tellin’ ya,” he smirked, trying to hide his satisfaction upon hearing you say his name behind a veneer of callousness. “Got a reputation t’keep.”

You breathed deep, not quite a yawn but more than a sigh. “I know, Cooper.” You rested your head on his shoulder, not to test the waters or attempt a romantic gesture; it was just pleasant to experience something quiet, personal, like this. “I know.”

~~~

“Christ, you sleep like a fuckin’ rock.” His voice was the first thing you registered when you opened your bleary eyes. Your neck was stiff, your cheeks felt crusty with the residue of dry tears, and the floor was crooked. You’d fallen asleep on him, perched just under his shoulder, and he’d let you. “Snore, too.”

“Yeah, well,” you sat up, rolling your neck and wincing at the cracks that sounded from your joints as you stretched, “Sleep comes easy when I have my guard dog watching out for me.”

He scoffed, a small smile forming on his lips. “Don’ expect me to bark for ya, sweetheart.”

“All you do is bark.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to find the motivation to stand.

“S’not true,” there was a glint in his eye that you couldn’t read into fully, “Could bite ‘f’I wanted.”

You’d seen him land a shot without so much as glancing at his target. He was telling the truth.

You sighed, finally standing. You folded yourself over your front, touching your toes and trying to loosen the knots in your back. “Well, Coop,” you straightened, “Can I call you Coop?” You second guessed your courage, unsure of whether or not he’d take kindly to you shortening the name he’d only just entrusted you with.

“You my fuckin’ publicist?” He quirked a brow up at you, recalling the dozens of conversations he’d had that had begun just like this.

“I should be,” you straightened out, rolling your shoulders and shooting him a grin. “You could use one.”

He scowled at you. “Y’gotta question or what?”

“What now?” You shook out your limbs lazily.

“What now?” He echoed your words. He stayed on the floor, legs in front of him crossed at his ankles. “What’ya mean, darlin’?”

You didn’t really know what you meant; usually it was him calling the shots, but he seemed to be waiting for some kind of prompt. “You know, I mean…what should we…do…today?” You spoke slowly.

“Today?” He laughed, “Today…sweetheart, today’s come ‘n gone.”

You knit your brow, confused, and he pointed in the direction of the crack in the ceiling. It was still dark—dark again if you understood him correctly.

“You let me sleep all day?” The notion made you feel a bit frantic for some reason, having grown accustomed to sleeping for barely four hours at a time over the past few weeks. His constant need of movement made it hard to rest easy.

“You needed it,” he shrugged, picking at a spot on his duster.

And you had needed it, but the idea that he had let you doze for what was, as far as you could tell, close to a full twenty-four hours was more than a little puzzling; that he had let you sleep on him for the duration is what really threw you for a loop. Maybe the fact that you knew him by name made him nervous. Maybe it made him nervous enough to let you make decisions for the both of you now, for fear of the fallout.

Or, and much less likely, you thought, but much more appealing: maybe he just wanted to let you rest. Because you needed it. And he didn’t mind acting as a placeholder for a pillow.

The butterflies in your stomach made haste upwards in your body and settled in your heart.

“I did.” You deflated a little. Regardless of any reason behind why this had happened, you still felt guilty about making him lose the span of an entire day that could have been spent wandering in whatever direction called to him. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Ain’t got a reason to be.”

“I made you—”

“Didn’t make me do a goddamn thing, sweetheart.” He ground his teeth together, jaw swaying back and forth.

“We could be somewhere else by now.” You tried to argue, squaring your shoulders.

“Got nowhere to be.”

His words were spoken with a sense of finality, and you knew when to back down.

“I been thinkin’,” he piped up again when you got quiet. He finally made the move to stand; he winced as he bent his knees, his body having grown accustomed to staying in the same position for so long.

“About?” You watched him stretch.

“You still wanna wear that?” He waved his chin at your figure, forcing you to examine the tattered sleeves of your vault suit that were caked in dirt and debris—and more than likely a few pints of blood from various donors. “Just—seems like more of a hindrance than anything.”

“It’s fine.” You sneered at him, unsure of why you decided to get defensive. It was a creature comfort, of sorts, and while it certainly got the wrong kind of attention out in the open, getting rid of it felt like stripping yourself of the only identity you’d ever really had.

And he knew that, which is why he had voiced his thought. Not only was it something people would use—and they had used it—against you, but it was obstructing your ability to move on completely. He felt a sense of responsibility in ensuring that you managed to maintain a level of dignity in your soul searching.

“It’s hangin’ off o'you in shreds.” He continued, and you shifted on your feet. You couldn’t deny that any emotional connection to your outfit was outweighed by discomfort of the holes and tears it had collected. You bit your cheek, looking down at the floor and back at him in silent acknowledgement of his point. “Y’gotta change o’clothes in that bag?” He grinned, and you frowned.

“No...” There was no use now in coming up with any snark retorts. He licked his top teeth, staring at you “So, what?” You tried to find his point, “You want me to strip down and wander around naked?” If he asked you to, it was more than likely that you would obey without a second thought. By now, you knew better than to feel disgust for confessing things of this nature to yourself. But even so, you knew this admission was probably not a good reflection of the unrelentingly self-contained attitude you tried to show him.

Not to mention that nobody had ever so much as seen you without a shirt on, let alone the whole nine yards.

He bit back any response that might expose the interest he had in your suggestion, though he raked his gaze up and down over your body, smirking, before sucking his teeth and shaking his head. “We’re in a fuckin’ store.” His eyes finally met yours, and you stared back at him blankly. “Full ‘f clothes.” He continued, and you understood.

“There’s nothing left,” you spread your arms out for emphasis, gesturing to the run-down remains of gutted shops.

“Ooh, I bet ya there is.” He turned on his heels, taking long strides that had you jogging to catch up with him as he made his way down a corridor and towards a defunct escalator.

The sound of his boots against the tile floor echoed across the building, and even despite your long period of rest, you felt sluggish and unprotected; your back was an easy target, and with every click of his heel you found yourself turning your head, peering back into nothing, just in case.

“Nobody here,” Cooper noticed the constant swivel of your neck, “Relax.”

“How do you know?” You tried to cement your gaze forward.

“Would’a heard.”

“That’s—you can’t expect to hear people coming in this building, it’s huge.”

“Can hear you,” he gave you a pointed look, and you quieted yourself. “Here we go.” He nodded to a heap at the far end of the open space you’d found yourselves in. You squinted at the pile, and you could make out individual shapes and parts.

Bodies. Stacked atop one another as they wasted away into soggy organic matter. You began to make out whole people, some fresh enough that they could still leave an identifiable fingerprint.

“Cooper,” you froze, shoulders rigid and eyes wide in fear and disgust, “I don’t—”

“C’mon now, sweetheart,” he walked right up to the collection of putrefying bodies, bending down to peel a strand of flesh from a bloated arm that flopped out of the mass. “Clothes for you, meal for me.” He smirked, rolling the loose skin in his fingers before putting it in his mouth.

You sucked your lips into your teeth; the primal actions he often displayed made you feel pure in a way you wanted to rinse yourself of, shower in the wild side.

But only if he was the one scrubbing.

You shook your head. “This is the best you could do?”

“Tailor’s outta town,” he sneered, “Could’a just said thank you.”

“I—no, I respect the…attempt…” You dug your toe into the worn floor.

“But…” Cooper tilted his forehead at you, picking skin from his teeth with his tongue.

“But this is gross. Come on, even you know this is gross.” You crossed your arms, peering up at him beneath knit brows.

“Use what’cha find.” He said simply, reiterating his mantra. You huffed, letting him have the final word.

You rounded the pile of bodies, looking out from behind Cooper as he sorted through the gore to find a suitable mark for his next move. He let out a triumphant noise when he turned over a man who was yet to begin the latter process of autolysis, providing the ability to smoothly undress him.

“This feels wrong.” You grit out when Cooper had removed the corpse’s overshirt. “This goes against—this is unethical.”

“You wanna change o’clothes or not?” Cooper rolled his eyes, and you piped down.

Despite your protests, spoken and cringed, you continued to watch as the body was stripped of its earthly possessions. Shirt, shoes—lucky bastard even had socks. Cooper tossed them all your way, throwing the clothes over his shoulder and at your chest. When he reached to undo the man’s belt, you felt your chest tighten; it wasn’t discomfort, per se, but it wasn’t anything pleasant, either. Something about seeing someone naked for the first time in this context made you feel melancholic. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, both in the sense that you felt that you were invading the privacy of the dead, but also in the more selfish sense that you felt it would be ruining something for you.

You turned around, trying to find something else to stare at instead of following the Ghoul’s hands as they roamed over the corpse for any hidden gems. He didn’t notice your movement, holding the jeans he’d unfastened from the dead man behind his shoulder to pass on to you.

“What the hell’re you doin’?” He turned to face the back of your head after a minute of shaking the denim at you. “Don’ tell me you decided t’get squeamish now, darlin’.”

You turned around to swipe the pants from his hands. “Not squeamish,” you started walking away, scouting out an area that would offer some seclusion, “You’re just being gross.”

“Me?” He feigned shock.

You stopped walking, turning to face him, rolling the skin of your cheeks between your teeth. “Come on…smells bad.”

Cooper waved you off, unsheathing a dagger and butchering a nearly unidentifiable limb off of a corpse. He flopped the meat over his shoulder, putting the dagger back into the sleeve it had been pulled from. After fiddling for a few more moments with the bodies, discovering two more vials of his precious chem in threadbare pockets, he held the carved appendage out to you; he swayed it as if it were part of his own arm, urging you forward. You scoffed, turning to walk away, staying several steps ahead of him.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

~~~

You had to hand it to him, Cooper knew how to scavenge; the clothes he’d taken off the body were only slightly too big on you. It was nothing rolling the cuffs up and tearing off some excess fabric couldn’t fix. You felt less constricted—free to move about without the limitations, both physical and mental, of your ruined vault suit.

“Couple holes.” You ducked out of the old storage room you’d found to change in and made your way back to the Ghoul. He’d started a campfire on the linoleum flooring, and you didn’t question how or why.

“You’ll live.” He tore chunks of flesh from the decomposing arm he’d procured. “Better than what ya had.” You watched as he rotated the meat clumsily over the fire with his hands, barely giving it enough time to rise back to living temperatures before taking it off the flame to gnaw from the bone.

“Yeah,” there was no point in arguing. He was right, and you felt silly for finding issues with what you supposed he might consider a gift.

You sat next to him in silence, knees grazing but not creating any real tension. Something about him was so much more reassuring now, a sort of consolation to being stuck in a world so far from what you’d imagined, than just the mysterious man with no nose or empathy that you’d pegged him for that first day.

Even if he was noseless, you tried not to laugh at your internal monologue, he definitely had more feelings than he let on—he cared and commiserated and let you sleep for way too long.

And you felt safe in a way you’d never felt safe before; far from any made-up threat you’d been taught to watch for in the vault, faced with genuine danger for the first time in your life, you still felt that, somehow, by his side, no harm would come to you.

It was more than a feeling. It was a fact.

You stared, unashamed, as he continued to take bites out of the disembodied arm. Cooper glanced at you from his peripheral and slowed his chewing, daring you to say something.

“What’s it taste like?” You finally gave in.

“We playin’ twenty questions again?” He shot back, swallowing what was in his mouth and throwing what was now mostly bone and muscle to the side.

“Is it like regular meat?” You pushed on, ignoring his quip.

“Y’ever had reindeer?” Cooper leaned back on his hands, and with his face only a few inches from yours, the position felt oddly intimate.

“No…” You tilted your head.

“Gamey,” he explained, “Like beef.” He smiled, “Course the flavor, it varies…person to person.”

“Funny.” You stuck your tongue between your teeth. You still thought it was gross, but you couldn’t deny that he made even cannibalism a light subject.

“Yeah? My turn now.” He sat up, “Why’d you get weird ‘round the bodies back there?”

“I was weird with the bodies?” You tried to play dumb.

“Got all prissy.”

“Did not.”

“Oh, yes y’did.”

“You were being disgusting…”

“When am I not?” He pointed out, grinning, and you conceded with a small smile and a nod of your head. “Cmon sweetheart…did it really bother you to see me doin all’at?” He seemed genuinely puzzled by you in this moment. You looked away, staring at your thumbs as you twiddled them in your lap. He took a chance, gloved fingers coming up to your chin and brushing your skin ever so gently. He refocused your gaze on him. “…Cause I won’t do it no more if it makes y’feel…weird.”

“No. it’s not…” You took a deep breath. Maybe it was stupid to get sensitive about it, maybe it was stupid to feel strange about the situation in the first place. You doubted that anybody in the Wasteland ever thought twice about seeing another person’s body—dead or alive. “I’ve just never seen anybody naked before.”

Cooper’s hand dropped from your face and into his lap. “Y’fuckin serious?” He grinned, “You’re kidding.” He was clearly on the verge of laughter, whether from amusement or shock, you couldn’t tell.

“No, I—look. I know it’s not a big deal, it’s probably not something people even think about up here. But it felt—something about seeing another person naked when they’re not…like, when they’re completely lifeless and unaware, it felt wrong to do that.” He didn’t respond, so you continued, “And honestly, it probably sounds insane, or, at the very least, maybe, a little selfish, but I felt like it was wrong because it would be stripping them of a choice, but it would also be stripping me of any choice. You know? Like, maybe it doesn’t matter to everybody else out here, but I’d like to…I mean, I want it to matter as much as it can, at this rate.” You sucked in a breath, deciding that you were done with your rant.

The Ghoul stared at you, his eyes wide but his bald brow knit in an obvious combination of delight and curiosity.

“You never seen a naked body before?” He tried to make his voice come out evenly, hiding his amusement.

“I…never like…” you failed to think of something that might lessen the blow of your revelation, “Not really, no.”

He let out a whistle, shaking his head. “Hell are y’all doin’ in the vaults if you’re not fuckin’?” It was rhetorical, you knew that, but you still felt defensive.

“There’s plenty to do.” The words came out flat, and you laughed nervously to lighten your tone.

He chuckled. “I bet.” He sucked his teeth, letting his eyes flicker over you again. There was a pregnant pause. Dead air hung between the two of you while you tried to ignore his gaze, opting to pick at a loose thread on your new shirt.

“Plenty to do…” You tried to steer the conversation somewhere—anywhere—that would help ease the tension.

“Yeah,” Cooper let his head loll back, “Let’s hear it, then.”

You scooted back on your hands to give yourself the room to properly face him, situating yourself a foot away to allow for the physical space to think.

“Movies to watch and…chores to do…” You tried to think of anything worthwhile you’d done growing up in the vaults but found yourself coming up dry. “Sometimes there were, you know…events.”

“’N you never found yourself at one o’those events with some arm candy?” He was taunting you, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that he was getting a sort of sadistic thrill out of seeing you squirm under his playful interrogation.

“Slim pickings.” You huffed, staring into the fire.

“I’ll be,” he smirked, “For someone so sure of herself, you ain’t seen nothin’, have ya?” He was thinking out loud, analyzing you to your face.

You felt the need to correct him, both out of self-preservation, but also because, and this was a bigger reason than you cared to own up to, you wanted him to know that you weren’t scared of anything—especially not the thing he was implying.

Maybe you were naïve, but you weren’t stupid.

“Don’t really need another person to have a good time.” You made a point to catch his line of sight, eyes holding his as you tilted your head against your shoulder.

The Ghoul whistled, long and low. “Well, now. Talk about self-sufficient.”

You felt heat rise in your face, dappling your neck with a rosy veil. “I’m not stupid, Cooper. I know what you’re talking about.”

“What am I talkin’ ‘bout, darlin’?” He goaded, fingers toying with a button beneath his collar.

“Just cause I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’m some sort of—I dunno, some sort of…poor shrinking violet who can’t figure it out,” your heart was in your throat now, afraid to take the conversation too far but so desperate to get a reaction out of him. “I know how to…to, you know…” You let your voice fade, chickening out when he failed to change his facial expression.

There was another long stretch of silence. Cooper let his head fall forward, arms coming to rest, folded, over his stomach, as he anticipated the end of your sentence. When you didn’t come out with it, he prodded you verbally.

“Know how’ta what?” He grinned, yellow teeth on display and tongue darting between them in a movement you were sure he wasn’t even conscious of. He leaned forward further, moving his face towards you without actually budging an inch from his spot on the floor. “You don’t know how to deal with death, how t’use a gun—y’barely even know when you’re too tired to stand…” His tongue pushed through the crack in his top and bottom rows of teeth, wetting his lips. “But ya expect me t’believe that y’know how to make yourself cum?” He let his tongue rest on his bottom lip before closing his mouth, sneering mischievously. There was a bright speck of something in his eyes that seemed to be fighting with the more devious glint brewing in him, and paired with his brazen statement, it tugged at your core.

And despite it all, you felt completely at ease; the sudden suspense and the violent thrum of your heartbeat aside, you were almost entirely calm. You knew you were safe, that the solace he cloaked you with spanned to even the most random and uncertain situations or conversations.

So you continued on.

“Took some trial and error,” you felt nervous laughter bubble up from your throat, “But I got the hang of it.” You smiled, before quirking your brow and addressing yourself more so than him, “I think.”

“You think…” He repeated, eyes narrowing as his gaze turned inquisitive.

“Just, you know…” You squirmed under his gaze now, “Not really a how-to manual on touching yourself…”

He exhaled, laughing through the hole where his nose should’ve been. “Maybe not in the vaults.” He dug in his pockets, unsure if the lightheadedness he was feeling should be blamed on a lack of chem in his system or on the topic of conversation. He took a puff before settling again. “Plenty o’guidance up here.”

“You mean, like…porn?” You smiled, shooting him a knowing look.

“At one point. Not anymore,” he sagged a little, “Lucky if ya find a fuckin’ playboy mag up out here.”

“You seem disappointed by that,” you prodded, teasing.

“That’s cause I am,” he shot back, stretching his shoulders.

“Well, all I’m saying is I know what I’m doing.” You rested your back against the wall, hands clasped in your lap.

“And I’m sayin’ that I sincerely doubt it.” He put the inhaler back into his pocket, deciding it was definitely the conversation that was to blame for the way his head swam.

You let his words hang between the two of you momentarily. Then, on a whim, figuring that you’d had plenty of chances before, and being unwilling to let another one slip away: “I could show you.” You didn’t look up at him, but he stiffened, his eyes unwittingly falling to stare at your hands. “How I…how I touch, I mean.”

You braced yourself for rejection, looking up sheepishly and letting your hands fall to your sides. He was already looking back at you, lips parted and eyes half-lidded—he could say no, and he thought about it for a moment. But, Christ, it had been a long time. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t say no.

Not to you. Not when it came to something like this, a vision, a woman untouched by the grit and grime of the surface, offering up something that now seemed so holy.

He sucked in a breath; he had never been a church goer. He thought maybe now was a good time to make up for all the sins he’d committed—worship at the shrine of you, talk you through your own wrongs and absolve himself of the thoughts he’d been having since he’d first encountered you all those weeks ago.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, sweetheart…go on ahead…”

You exhaled shakily, not even realizing that you’d been holding in a breath. You scrambled to lose the jeans he’d gifted you, eager to expose yourself, immensely grateful for the chance that had dropped in your lap.

“Hold’t,” his voice cut through your motions, and you froze. You’d gone too far, surely. He recognized the error he had made by giving you the go ahead and was now taking it all back. “Y’gonna listen when I say you’re doin’ it wrong?” He sucked on his lips.

“I won’t—I don’t do it wrong.” There was no bite to your argument.

“I asked ya’a question,” he continued, “Y’gonna listen t’me? Gonna fix your mistakes ‘f’I tell ya to?” He bent one knee, resting his hand limply between his legs. “Do what I fuckin’ say to do?”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to hide the impact his words had on you. “Yeah,” you nodded, “Yeah, Coop. I will.”

You thought maybe you heard him growl, but any noise coming from him was muddled by the sound of your zipper finally coming undone.

“Good,” he nodded, “Knew you could be a good girl. Just need’a blow off some steam, huh?”

This time, you couldn’t avoid the soft moan that slipped past your lips. Cooper let out an amused exhale in response, eyes trained on your hips as you wiggled your way out of the pants.

“Yeah, you like this,” he got comfortable, resting one arm behind his head, only nearly knocking his hat off. “Like gettin’ bossed around more than you let on, darlin’.”

“Shut up,” you tried to keep it together, kicking the jeans off your legs and tossing them to the side. But your words were unconvincing, especially with the way you barely smiled, breath hitching already and eyes wild and blown out. You did like it—but only because he was doing it.

He tsked at your response. “Not very nice. Big talk from someone with no panties on.”

In such a short time span, you’d already forgotten that you’d ridded yourself of your underwear. It was gross, and you’d had no change, and it wasn’t as if you’d be thrilled to peel the undergarments off a corpse. You figured commando was the most obvious way to go.

“That a bad thing?” You goaded him, running a palm down your naked thigh and seeing how long it would take to break his collected demeanor.

“Never said that,” he drawled, following your hand on its path down your leg. “Y’gonna keep puttin’ on a li’l show f’me, or ya gonna do what’cha promised?” He licked his lips.

“You don’t like a little showmanship?” You squeezed your thighs together, not missing how his chest rose.

“With my killin’,” he found your eyes, “Not with my pussy.”

If this was a competition to see who could keep it together the longest, you’d be losing by a landslide.

“Spread those legs f’me, baby.”

And with all the pet names he’d given you in your time with him, something as simple as the word baby falling from his lips and landing on your skin had you flooded with arousal.

You did what you were told, straightening your legs and feeling the tile of the floor cling to your skin as you opened them. The Ghoul’s gaze flickered between your face and your core, both positioned perfectly towards him.

“C’mon,” he nodded, “Show me how good ya make yourself feel.”

You knew what he wanted to see. Even after his claims of disliking the display you were putting on, you could tell that he was just being impatient for show. You wanted to draw this out, watch him come undone in sync with you despite the physical distance.

You let your hand roam over the tops of your thighs, feather soft touches making goosebumps erupt on your skin in anticipation for what was to come.

“How y’feel?” He disrupted the otherwise silent escapade you were undertaking.

“Soft…” you mumbled, “Warm.” You didn’t know if he was asking about your emotions or for the physical description of what your skin felt like on your fingers, but your mind was blank with adrenaline, so you subconsciously chose to focus on the latter.

He took a deep breath, afraid that if he were to blink, he would miss something. “How ‘bout you drop that hand a li’l lower.”

You sighed as you followed his instruction. The pads of your fingers brushed your clit, and you squeaked out a moan.

How long had it been since you’d gotten any time to enjoy yourself? Certainly longer than the month or so you'd been on the surface; with Cooper, you never had the solitude or time to let yourself unwind, and even before joining him, you were more focused on surviving than you were on unwinding.

You let your fingers circle your clit, building the pressure with every swipe. The friction made you buck your hips gently, sweat-slick skin sliding on the floor. You could feel the way your cunt began to drip, and you spread your legs wider, wanting to give him a proper view. You looked up at him, your face painted with an underlying uncertainty behind the overarching pleasure.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he reassured you, briefly biting down on his tongue when he saw the way your slit glistened, “Show me.”

You relaxed into your own body; fingers dropping lower to tease your entrance were met with a backing score of delicious wet sounds as you let the pads graze beyond your folds and kiss at your hole. You moved your hand at an angle to allow one finger to push into your cunt down to the first knuckle, but Cooper tsked at you.

“Not yet,” his breath was already becoming labored, “Show that pretty pearl a li’l more love first.”

The timbre of his voice made you shiver despite the heat that engulfed your skin. You nodded, staring up at him for guidance, just as you always did—though this circumstance was far different.

Your fingers came back up to toy with your clit, and you let out a breathy sound. He had been right to tell you to slow down, to continue to enjoy the friction instead of diving straight into the penetration; you felt light and malleable, like your body was taking a natural route towards the apex of pleasure without needing the frantic thrust of your finger.

Another moan slipped past your lips, and the Ghoul groaned in front of you, eyes glued to your center as you massaged gentle shapes onto your clit.

“Knew ya didn’t know what y’were doin’,” he chastised softly, voice uncharacteristically tender given the state of events unfolding. “Impatient thing like you just needs some instruction. S’at right, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, bending a knee, “Needed someone to tell ya how t’do it so it feels real good?”

You bucked against your hand, in the midst of discovering something new about yourself; maybe you did need it—maybe you liked it. It could have been the simple fact that it was him taunting you, telling you what you wanted and how you wanted it, but his words had you keening, and you let go of any remaining inhibition.

“Yeah,” you mewled, “Yes…” Your movements were getting sloppy, fingers frantic against your swelling bud. “Like—like it like this.”

He growled, pushing air through gritted teeth that formed a menacing smile meant only for you. “Slow down there,” he wanted to grab your wrist, to replace your hand with his own, but something about the chaste, urgent nature of how you touched yourself made him all the more eager to watch how your own movements played out. “Don’ gotta rush it, baby.”

You knew you'd been right—he did like a little showmanship.

“But—” You wanted to argue; it felt good, and the thought of stopping made you squirm harder. But with his eyes on you the way they were, and his hat tipping forward to emphasize his demand, you let the response die in your throat, slowing your fingers.

“Atta girl,” he praised, and your smile was paired with a small whine. “You like the way I’m talkin’?” He was playing with you, flirting while making sure the waters were still welcoming.

“I do,” you responded with a whimper, thrilled by the noises you made, having only ever touched yourself in silence for fear of getting caught.

“Good. Cause I’m’a keep goin’,” he leaned back once more, shifting slightly to ease the tightness that had sprung up in his trousers. “Give that pussy what she needs—slow, now.”

You pressed a finger into your hole, watching it soak in the wet that dripped from you. You wanted to go faster, to push it in completely and fuck yourself on it, but you refrained from the urge to do so and went leisurely as instructed.

“Fuck,” you breathed when the webs of your fingers stretched over your lips, as deep as you could get inside yourself. “Been a—it’s been a minute since I’ve done this.”

“Easy, now—s’why I’m goin’ slow.” He spoke as if he was the one touching you, as if his finger was buried within you in place of your own.

“Can I…” You fidgeted around your hand, “What next.”

“So fuckin’ eager t’please,” he chuckled, “Where was’s obedience out there, huh?”

“Had to make you work for it,” you smiled, your words carrying no malice as your hand became more saturated with your juices.

“Curl’at finger up,” he ignored your retort with a blunt demand, “Like yer callin’ me over.”

You did, and the spot your finger grazed made your limbs buzz and your core tighten. Your face must’ve changed to display your sudden pleasure, because Cooper let out a proud grunt.

“Didn’know’at was there, did’ya?”

“No…” You didn’t bother to explore the shameful feeling that nipped at your heels for being so unfamiliar with your own body after talking such a big game, too focused on exploring the tantalizing feeling that traveled through you when you nudged at the spot again. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“I know,” he looked smug, clearly impressed with himself for teaching you something new about your own body. “Add another.”

“Another finger?” Your skin flushed.

“Go on.”

“I—I’ve only ever done one.” You explained, more embarrassed about this fact than you had been to strip and fuck yourself in front of him.

“Y’can do it,” he shot you a jagged grin, “Would I ever lead y'astray?”

You swallowed your reminder to him that he used you as a lure in any situation he could get away with. Your head drooped, and you watched as you pulled your hand back enough to press a second finger to the one that had been nestled inside of you. You prodded your entrance, sinking them in slowly as you had with the first one. You hissed, unfamiliar pressure filling your abdomen, though not in an unwelcome capacity; it was a warm tension, weighty and grounding, and you quickly found pleasure in the new sensation.

The way you stared down at yourself, legs spread and lips parted, nearly made him snap; you were so curious, so hungry for instructions to follow—so deeply trusting of him. Cooper’s mouth went dry, and his hand fell to his crotch, palming at the growing tent there.

“Look’t that,” he licked his lips, “Y’feel the stretch, sweetheart? Feel nice?”

“Mm,” you whimpered out an answer, remaining focused on the way your hand met your cunt, swallowed to the last knuckle and still wanting more.

“Curl ‘em again f’me,” he muttered, squeezing his cock through the fabric of his pants.

You did, throwing your head back and hitting that same spot he’d directed you to earlier. The sound you made was desperate and primal, coming out husky from deep in your chest.

“God!” You felt like crying happy tears. Something built inside you that you couldn’t stop, and it felt good—it felt right.

“He can’t help ya now, darlin’,” the Ghoul’s mouth hung open, hypnotized by the urgency in your sounds and the way your body contorted as you tried to keep up with your own pleasure. “Now pull ‘em out ‘n’do it all again. Fast, now—you got it.”

Hurriedly, you pulled your fingers back, then pushed them back in with equal haste, bending them upwards and grazing the delicious spot you’d been missing out on for god only knows how long. You did it again, and again; your repeated movements helped you chase the high you were looking for, hurtling you towards the finish line, and you wanted him to see it as badly as you wanted to feel it.

“Look’t me,” his voice was gruffer now, a dominant edge finding its way in by way of his own lust. “Lemme see y’feel good, sweetheart.”

“C—ooper,” his words hit you exactly where you needed them, finding his gaze with your own and falling apart completely. You pulsed around your fingers, gluey and hot, your skin pricked with gooseflesh despite the humidity and the rush of warmth you felt all over. You moaned, loud and long, but your ears buzzed and your eyes screwed shut so that not even your own sounds could distract from the intensity of the orgasm that washed over you.

When you opened your eyes, squinting in the light of the fire while you took heaving breaths, you expected a blanket of embarrassment to wash over you, some type of mortification for what you’d just done—exposed to another person for the first time, allowing him a view you’d rarely ever even given yourself.

But when you peeked up at him through heavy eyelids, gulping down air, he looked dazed, his mouth agape and eyes wide. And suddenly you felt pride more than anything—you’d managed to leave the most feared man for miles at a total loss.

His hand was still on his crotch, raking his eyes over you, your form illuminated by the campfire. His throat felt dry, and he coughed a few times, hunching over to collect himself before he made eye contact with you again.

“Goddamn,” he gasped, swallowing his coughing fit, “Fast learner.”

“Good teacher,” you grinned, toeing at the discarded jeans that had been left in a heap at your feet.

“Pretty when you cum,” he rolled his shoulders back, still foggy with arousal after seeing you whine and writhe for him.

That made you blush, not out of embarrassment, but because it was the first real compliment he’d paid you. “Never done it like that before.”

“Never had a ghoul teach ya how t’do it right.” He joked, and you smiled at the way he returned so quickly to his usual snark.

“Never cum that hard, that fast.” You admitted, shooting him a glance before leaning forward to grab the wrinkled denim off the floor.

“Had me fooled,” he took out his inhaler, “Needy fuckin’ thing.” That sent a buzz through your body, and you pressed your thighs together to alleviate the ache in your cunt.

“You liked it.” You quirked a brow, dropping your gaze to your legs and pulling the oversized pants back on.

“Never said I didn’t,” he pointed out, “Almost made me cum my pants like some fuckin’ schoolboy.”

“Never done that either,” you yawned, “Made someone else cum.”

“Don’t think it’d be a hard lesson for y’t’learn,” he smirked, “Natural’at you are.”

“It’ll have to wait,” you didn’t know why you assumed it would happen at all, subconsciously hoping that this wouldn’t be forgotten in a day’s time, “Tired.”

“Course y’are,” he offered no explanation, shifting in his spot. He raised an arm and beckoned to you, encouraging you to come closer.

You did, no stranger to doing what he told you to do, and found yourself curled against his side. He smelled like smoke and sex—musky and dewy in a way that made you feel at home.

“I got first watch, y’fuckin—” he cut is taunting short when he looked down at you, seeing you fast asleep.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #ghoul smut #walton goggins #walton goggins x reader #walton goggins x you #fallout #fallout show #fallout series #fallout prime

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mehiwilldoitlater · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! i really love your writing about wukong and reader and i always waiting what's new from you 😄

can i request?,

am i the only one who put interest to the broken sage shell?

can you write about reader who in the past she was wukong's most beloved person, and she join Bajie (who also know the reader very close) to accompany destine one till the final fight with wukong's stone monkey. however the stone monkey or in broken sage shell mode, even as broken shell he still can sense her presence, and miss the reader so much even for just a touch, when he knock down the destine one so badly, he take his time to walk closer to the reader who watching the scene from a small boat behind transparant wall 🥺

Thank you!

Sorry for my english 🙈

As the story said, the Lady Bone demon was a mere spectacle, a monster that wanted nothing but to devour the Tang Monk. The story said that she was merely a cause of the first exile of Sun Wukong and that she had done nothing special per se.

But no one ever said the other side of the story. That the demon once was a servant for the Celestial Court, then the bride of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, and only then became the monster that she was.

When the Destined One First Met you, what he saw was a mysterious ally to his quest, a Yaoguai that could manipulate ICE and had some strange abilities. What he didn't know was that you were an old acquaintance of old Bajie...and maybe something more.

When he saw you hug each other like friends that haven't seen each other for decades, he knew that he could trust you.

"Ah! Pesky Witch! Were you hiding yourself for so long?!" The old pig laughed, giving you some strong pats on your back.

"Hiding from that snout of your, old pig!"

Bajie explained then everything—or at least what Wukong wanted him to know. He did understand the surprise in the Destined One's eyes, knowing that the Great Sage did in fact have a wife that turned into a demon for grief. Well, it was a lot, but he was used to learning more about the old king that he was supposed to.

"I didn't know...no one knows...why?"

Your gentile gaze was veiled by a sadness, old like the legend itself.

"Oh young one, if I knew the reason for it, I would have certainly found piece by piece."

And so, you helped him.

Maybe it was that gloom that still unted your eyes when you were talking about your deceased husband; maybe it was Hope or just some silly fantasy of yours, but you did trust the destined one. You wanted to trust him and the idea that your beloved husband could be back together once more.

So you helped him, you followed him, and you assisted him, just like Bajie. Both of you became the nearest thing to a parent that the young monkey ever had, and this thing never bothered you.

And so, when the relics were reunited, you Hope still stood, only to be crushed by the painful truth.

Sun Wukong was long gone. Your husband was gone.

You didn't cry; maybe you knew that it was just a silly hope, or maybe you had already consumed all of your tears in the last centuries.

Or so you thought, because rivers of tears were falling when that stone creature, only a shell of what once was Sun Wukong, was slowly approaching the wall in his mind.

Even as a fragment, he was strong; he was able to outstrip your young protege in one strike.

"PLEASE DON'T HURT HIM! MY LOVE, DON'T DO THAT TO THE BOY!"

He stopped, and the staff stopped on his finale strike. Those burning flames that he had as eyes searched for the origin of the voice, and they met you.

A long past memory, regrets, hope, and love.

While the younger monkey was getting back on his feet, the shell slowly approached the wall where you were watching the fight, refusing to move forward there. Despite the heaviness of this aura, you didn't flinched. How could you? He was never a threat for you, and Brother was now.

He was there, only the thing Wall of his Mind separated the both of you, just like the thing line of life and death. Like Always...

His hand reached the wall, now resting where your own was. You could swear that you could sense that warmth that it was always meant just for you—the warmth of the sun and the kind fire of the house that you wanted to share with him.

Your cry stopped, realizing the most agonizing reality that your poor heart could feel: despite the time, the distance, and death itself, he had never forgotten you. As a mall portion of you was still alive in that shell.

Even now, he was trying to console your cry and tell you that it hurt him more than anything seeing you like that.

He loved you. After all that time, he still loved you.

You wanted to hold his hand; even though it was made of stone, you wished to hold him once again. Instead, your tears fell on the boat, Bajie watching this heartbreaking scene, uncapable to say anything that could help.

"I wished nothing more than to hold you again in my arms, my love." You said between hiccups and sighs. Your forehead touched the wall; he mimicked that action, trying everything to just feel you.

"But before me... I want your own happiness... it's just like you always said, I'm too nice."

The destined one was once again on his feet, the weapon of your husband in his hand. He approached the scene, his hurt grieving for you now.

"I love you...more than everything. Be free, my love."

And while two lovers shared an untouchable kiss, the final strike settled the fight.

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edenesth · 1 year ago

Text

The Way to His Heart [8]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 7 | Fic Masterlist | Part 9

"Sir, the dressmaker has arrived with the mistress' first batch of clothes. Should I send him directly to the House of Lotus?" Jongho asked tentatively from the entrance of his master's study.

Removing his hands from his head, Seonghwa looked up and shook his head miserably, "Lord, no. Send him to me first," The assistant bowed and went to do as he was told, "Right away, sir."

Hongjoong entered the study without bothering to knock, hands propped on his hip as he stared at your husband, unamused, "Would you mind explaining why I'm here instead of presenting the new clothes to your wife, Park Seonghwa?"

"I need advice, Hongjoong." The general croaked, feeling quite lost for once. He had rarely ever been in such a situation; who knew all it took was one woman to put him in such misery. Not even the most vicious enemies he had fought in war could have ever fazed him this much.

He returned from work the day before, enthusiastically sharing his plans for the grand wedding he wanted to give you. However, things went south when he dropped the bomb about the visit to your old home, foolishly believing you would express joy at the prospect of flaunting your newfound happiness to your wicked family. Instead, you were gripped with fear at the idea. You ended up retiring to your quarters early and refused to come out ever since.

Goddamnit, I'm the biggest moron ever.

The dressmaker raised an amused brow, having never seen Seonghwa like this before. He went over to sit down across from his friend, "Hmm, I didn't think you'd be having trouble in paradise this soon. Let's hear it; we'll see if there's anything I can do for you and that lovely wife of yours."

Taking a deep breath, your husband started from the beginning, recounting every single thing that happened from the start of your arranged marriage until the present.

"Wait, you're taking her back to that wretched place? No wonder she's upset, you idiot! You said it yourself; she suffered so badly being caged in there all her life. I mean, sure, your cause is very noble—wanting to make her family pay for what they've done with this plan of yours. But you'd been so focused on that, you forgot how traumatising it could be for her, huh? You really didn't think that one through, my friend."

Letting out a groan, the general pulled at his hair, "Yes, thank you for repeating it all to me like I didn't already know what I did wrong. Now, tell me what exactly it is that I can do to make it all better."

"You're welcome. Oh, I'll tell you what to do, all right. You best keep your dumbass seated here while I talk to her," instructed Hongjoong, watching expectantly as your husband frowned, "What? Why should you talk to her? It's my mess; I should be the one to clean it up."

Sighing, the dressmaker explained, "Look, we all know the only way for you to make things better is to not take her back to the damn house at all. But you do have a point, okay? You've come this far with your plan, and as much as it sucks, she must go there with you in order for this to work out. So, you stay put, and let me convince her to go willingly with you, got it?"

Seonghwa nodded reluctantly, realising his friend was right. As much as he hated how charming Hongjoong was and how persuasive he could be, he would have to rely on those skills to help you see things in the bigger picture. Sure, you were not privy to any details about the revenge, but hopefully, he will be able to make you at least want to stand up to your family for once.

"Lady Park, it's Hongjoong. I've brought your first batch of clothing. May I have permission to enter?" Blinking in surprise, you straightened up, not expecting to hear the dressmaker's voice, "O-okay, please come in."

Despite the anxious state you'd been in since the revelation your husband had dropped upon you the night before, you couldn't help but smile at the unusually colourful outfit of your visitor. Eunsook followed behind him with a group of servants filing in to deliver the precious cargo into your quarters.

The head maid felt relieved to see you smiling again, even if it was only a little. She had been concerned about you after witnessing your retreat into your old shell the previous night, as the fear you demonstrated reminded everyone of your initial arrival.

In an effort to distract you from your upsetting thoughts, the dressmaker quickly pulled out a few designs he thought you'd love, "Come, take a look at this! I made it the way you preferred and added a little touch of my magic. What do you think?"

Fortunately, his strategy worked like a charm, and you immediately moved over to him with sparkly eyes, marvelling at some of the most beautiful hanboks you'd ever seen, even prettier than the ones he had displayed in his shop.

As you admired the clothes in front of you, Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look with the elderly woman. Nodding, she quietly exited your room along with the rest of the servants, leaving you alone with your husband's old friend.

But you weren't entirely alone, of course.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa was right outside, listening intently. He didn't spare any of his servants a glance as they all passed by him with a deep bow, waving his hand carelessly in a gesture to ask them to leave quickly.

"Hey, you haven't answered me. Do you like them, Lady Park?" The dressmaker asked, a teasing smile on his face as he found your endearing shyness adorable.

You nodded quickly, "Yes, I do. I love them. They're all perfect. I just... don't know if I deserve to wear any of these." The general felt his heart clench at your response, realising you were still far from being able to love yourself.

With a scoff, Hongjoong moved to stand beside you, "I'll have you know I only make dresses for people I deem worthy of them. Not just anyone can wear my designs, you know. And you, by far, are probably my favourite client. So that says a lot."

Your husband silently agreed with those words, resisting the urge to rush in there and hold you tight, to tell you that you deserved only the best, that you deserved everything good in the world.

Lowering your head, you fiddled with your fingers before replying in a small voice, "You're only saying that because I'm the general's wife..."

Sighing lightly, the dressmaker turned to face you, "You're not wrong... but that's exactly because not just anyone can be Lady Park. Many women before you tried to be in your position. Regardless of their efforts, he never would have given them the time of day. Yet, he wholeheartedly accepted you."

Recognising the doubt in your eyes, he further explained, "I understand if you think these are just words. But that's probably because you don't know the general like I do. We've known each other since joining the military in our teens. Back then, the Seonghwa I knew would never bat an eyelash at any woman."

As you slowly looked up to meet his kind eyes, intrigued to learn more about your husband's past, he continued, "Those rumours about him being the cold-blooded general were not lies. He really was as merciless as they say. He still is, just not to you. When I saw him again for the first time after years that day, I couldn't believe the man in front of me was the same friend I once knew. He's different around you; he's different because of you."

"It's evident that you're special to him, that you mean something to him. He cares so much about you; do you realise that?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you hurriedly blinked them back. The thought of someone genuinely caring for you still seemed surreal despite the amount of care that had been shown to you since living here. However, you were starting to understand that he was right.

Hongjoong grinned, seeing the effectiveness of his words, "You're the first and only woman who can tame Park Seonghwa, so you are beyond worthy of my dresses."

Before you could even attempt to protest, he held up a hand, "And don't bother telling me I'm wrong because I'm never wrong."

You couldn't help but giggle at his sassy words, and he smiled sincerely at you, saying, "So don't you dare question whether you deserve these clothes. You're the only one who deserves them because these are made only for you, do you understand?"

This time, you nodded with a wide smile.

"I want you to wear my dresses proudly and show the world who you are: the great Lady Park, the only woman General Park wants as his wife. No one will dare disrespect or look down on you again."

Feeling as if he knew exactly what had been worrying you, you felt touched. He was right; you were not who you used to be. You had no reason to cower from your family, recalling their belittling assumptions about your survival in this marriage. Now was your chance to prove them wrong.

With newfound determination, you nodded firmly, "You're right, I will. Thank you, Hongjoong. You're a good friend; Seonghwa is lucky to have you."

He crossed his arms over his chest cheekily, "I sure am. That fool hasn't a clue how fortunate he is."

Mission accomplished.

Pumping his fists in victory, your husband silently cheered outside, brushing off the playful taunts from his friend. Just this once, he would forgive Kim Hongjoong.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

The general turned to you as your carriage came to a stop, marking your arrival at what you assumed to be the Jang estate, your former prison. With a resolute nod, you smiled up at him, "I am."

As you moved to exit the vehicle, your husband halted you. Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed reassuringly into your eyes, "Remember, whatever happens, I'm here with you. You're not alone from now on; I'll always be here to protect you."

"I know, Seonghwa. I believe in you."

His heart melted at those words, and he couldn't resist pressing a lingering kiss onto your forehead. You fluttered your eyes closed, holding onto his wrists, cherishing the warmth he was providing.

"Alright, let's go." Leaving one final peck on your cheek, he got out of the carriage and swiftly helped you down, his strong arm securely wrapped around your waist. Eunsook stood there, mouth agape, that was initially meant to be her responsibility but she realised her assistance was no longer needed at the moment.

Jongho grinned, nudging the elderly woman on the shoulder as they followed their master and mistress into the minister's estate, "Come on, we've got work to do."

Taking a deep breath, you surveyed the familiar surroundings that once made you feel small. Feeling a reassuring squeeze on your hand, you found comfort in your husband's presence.

Yes, he's here with you now.

Nothing bad will happen.

His grip on your hand tightened, and his warm smile, reserved only for you, vanished when a few of your father's servants nervously stumbled out, bowing deeply before both of you, "Good morning, General Park. Welcome to the Jang estate."

The brave front you had put on seemed to falter slightly as you realised the servants here remained the same, showing no acknowledgement despite you no longer being their prisoner. Seonghwa, glaring at the maids in front of him, growled in a low voice, "You've left out Lady Park. Will you not greet my wife?"

Gulping on behalf of the servants, you witnessed the return of the general's intimidating demeanour. Hongjoong was right; he was still terrifying, just not to you.

The maids bowed deeper, "B-but sir—"

"What is going on here?" That voice resonated across the courtyard, causing your heart to plummet to the lowest pit of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't ready to face them at all. Your father emerged from the main hall, wearing an expression that was far from pleased.

You pressed closer to your husband, and instinctively, he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close. The minister's eyebrow raised in surprise at your refined appearance; he nearly did not recognise you. You were even more stunning than on the day you left this place, seemingly given a complete makeover.

Aside from that, he realised the general had meant his words when he had spoken so highly of you during assembly. Witnessing the intimacy between the two of you, there was undeniable evidence of shared affection. Your father began to question whether marrying you to his enemy was a mistake in the first place.

Seonghwa smirked, "Ahh, Minister Jang, it seems your servants do not know proper manners. They did not greet my wife, and that, to me, is punishable."

The old man felt his eye twitch at the general's satisfied grin before responding, "Well, I'm their master, so I decide what is punishable, General Park."

"Right, well, I'm just looking out for you. Wouldn't want people to find out what rotten-mannered staff my father-in-law has in his estate, not knowing how to show respect to even the general's wife."

"You do realise that before she became your wife, she's my daughter first." Your father sneered, and you felt sick at that, to be called his daughter when you've never once been treated as such.

Remaining unfazed, your husband retorted, "All the more reasons for them to show respect to their eldest miss then, no?"

Jongho and Eunsook bowed their heads in an effort to hide their snickers at the minister's red face flushing in embarrassment. He should have known better than to think he could win the general in an argument, "R-right. What are you fools standing around for? Show Lady Park some bloody respect!"

The line of servants bowed all the way down pathetically, "Yes, master! Good morning, General Park and Lady Park! Welcome to the Jang estate!" They chanted loudly, enough to bring about the rest of your family, coming out to witness what all the fuss was about.

"Very well, let us head in then." With a bored expression, Seonghwa walked into the hall with you, moving right past your stepmother and stepsisters intentionally, paying them no mind as he helped you into a seat before settling down beside you.

All four of the women standing in the main hall were rooted to their spots, eyes bulging as they took in the sight of you and your husband. First of all, you were nearly unrecognisable. If they thought you looked pretty on the day you got married, you were now almost a hundred times more beautiful, though they would rather die than ever admit it out loud.

Beyond your enhanced appearance, they were more taken aback by the general's beauty. He was nothing like they had imagined; he must have been one of the most attractive men ever, or at least the most handsome one they had seen so far.

Suddenly, your stepsisters were even angrier than they were upon learning about your stupid grand wedding. They were now furious with their father for never having told them about how good-looking General Park truly was. If only they knew, they would have volunteered to marry him themselves.

But what if there was still hope for them?

What if they had a chance?

After all, you hadn't officially wed Seonghwa yet and were merely here to discuss plans for the upcoming ceremony. Perhaps, with enough effort, they could still win him over. If a peasant like you could seduce the general, why couldn't any of them? With this determination in mind, the three stepsisters promptly began adjusting their appearances as you all gathered around the main hall.

You didn't appreciate the way your stepsisters were eyeing your husband, although you understood their motives. Sensing your discomfort, Seonghwa moved closer to you in his seat, whispering in your ear, "Are you feeling alright, my dear?"

Nodding lightly, you looked up with a small smile, "I am, as long as you're with me," He couldn't resist smiling at your words as he gave you a gentle peck on the head, "Good."

That should be me!

The three stepsisters clenched their fists, their fury intensifying as they witnessed the handsome general being affectionate with you. It should have been them; the title of the general's wife was more befitting a noblewoman like them, not a rat like you. How dare you sit there in their place as if you deserved it?

In an attempt to break the silence, Jinah cleared her throat and made her move, "Have you been well, unnie? I missed you so much! Did you know how worried I was about you? You must have had such a hard time, especially after you adamantly refused to marry General Park."

Seonghwa raised a brow in amusement, while you remained quiet, unsure how to respond to such a blatant lie. Jinjoo scoffed at your lack of response, "Unnie! Will you really not answer Jinah at all? You've always been like that, so ungrateful when we care so much about you!"

"Really? My wife being ungrateful? That's wild. I cannot imagine her like that at all." Your husband chuckled, holding you close when he felt you begin to tremble.

Jinhee's fists shook with envy as she nodded pitifully, "Yes, that's because you haven't known her well enough, my lord. She can be so scary when she's mad, you know how the eldest usually are."

Minister Jang rubbed a tired hand over his head when he realised what his stepdaughters were trying to do. Of course, these foolish girls would easily be blinded by the general's appearance. Even his own wife, seated beside him, found it difficult to take her eyes off the gorgeous young man.

Jongho and Eunsook, positioned behind you and their master, were making every effort to contain the irritation they felt. The audacity of these women to feign innocence after what they've put you through all these years. They were once again thankful not to have any of these conniving foxes as their mistress.

Rubbing his thumbs over your hands, Seonghwa laughed sarcastically in disbelief, "I'm sorry, I just find that so hard to believe. Are you sure you're not all talking about yourselves?" In an instant, his smile dropped, and he sent your stepsisters a death stare as if daring them to continue spouting more ridiculous lies about you.

Left in stunned silence, they blinked nervously and avoided his eyes, unprepared for his questioning. It was clear that they hadn't planned their silly little act thoroughly.

Damn it, how did that worthless thing manage to gain his favour?

"That's enough." The minister declared firmly, not wanting his stepdaughters to continue embarrassing themselves. All he wanted was to get the general out of his house as soon as possible. Every moment that Seonghwa remained felt like a threat; your father was walking on eggshells around him.

Pushing himself off his seat, the old man addressed your husband, "You mentioned wanting to see the environment your wife grew up in, right? Let's proceed with that before we delve into discussions about your wedding arrangements. I don't have all day."

"Sure, can't wait." Seonghwa responded smugly, standing up with your hand securely in his. A sense of unease washed over you as you wondered what kind of deception your father would employ. Surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to reveal your actual room to the general. Dread filled you, and you longed to return home.

Your real home, not this nightmare.

« Preview of Part 9 »

As you all followed the minister around the estate while he showed the general what was supposed to be your old room, Jongho exchanged a glance with the private investigator who was still posing as a staff member in the estate.

"This is unnie's room; she has the biggest and nicest one out of all of us. She's so lucky and doesn't even know it. I'm the youngest and I have the smallest room; I'd honestly be happy to have anything at all." Jinjoo said innocently, playing with a strand of hair as she batted her eyelashes at Seonghwa.

You stared blankly at the room supposedly designated as yours. It was merely a guest room rearranged with some of your stepsisters' belongings to create the illusion of long-term habitation. Sensing Jinah and Jinhee's intense gazes on you, you turned to find them glaring daggers at you as if daring you to speak up and disclose the truth to your husband.

If you voiced your denial, who would believe you? It was your entire family against you alone. Would there even be a point in trying?

Just as doubt started to creep in, Seonghwa wrapped an arm around you, reminding you of his support, "Is that true, my dear? Is this your room? It doesn't really seem to be your style at all."

Everyone held their breath, awaiting your response, but you remained silent, fixing your gaze on the familiar space where you spent your entire life, now masquerading as a storeroom.

"What is it that you're staring at so intently, hm? Let's go take a look."

Oh, crap.

Shit will go down in the next part, I assure you. Patience, my dearest readers, patience HAHA this part was focused more on setting the stage for the main event.😈

Also, I've created a mood board for this fic. If you haven't already checked it out, go take a look! I might consider making another one that depicts Seonghwa's estate if I'm able to find the right images.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/3): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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manmuncher777 · 5 months ago

Text

𝐵𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒹

-༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ Jace x reader ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

jace is finding it hard to wait until wedding day

sexual themes

REQUESTS FOR HOTD OPEN XOXO

“Jace!” You gasp

Your betrothed now had you pinned against one of the bookshelves in the library, you were meant to be finding a new book for you to read, but it seems he has other plans.

“shhh" he whispered to you, his strong arms now had both of your arms pinned to your side, you were cased in to the bookshelf. His towering frame now left you with no option to escape (not that you would want to of course). He was very good at distracting you from the task at hand.

You stared up at him, big eyes staring into his dark brown ones. An expression you can't quite read littered all over his beautiful face.

Your betrothed was so handsome, you were so very lucky that you both had a love match. You couldn't have asked for a better husband. But this love match was coming with it challenges. One of those being your insatiable fiancé.

He was a constant tease, you were both painfully aware of how long you had to wait to be with one another, but waiting until marriage was something that have was growing to care less and less about with each day. When he saw you, all he could think about was being with you, touching you.

"Jace, we're going to get caught" you whisper yell at him, you didn't really want to be making excuses yourself, but you knew you couldn't be bothered to deal with the rumours if anything did ever happen

"It's fine, it's late, no one else is here. Is it so wrong for me to want to admire my beautiful betrothed?" he questioned you, knowing that you certainly weren't going to deny him. Of course you couldn't, you loved his affection. You adored the moments that you would share - few and fine - but those intimate times when he would visit you secretly in your chambers at night. You cherished those moments like precious jewels. Something you never wanted to lose. But you also had to battle with your kind, despite being engaged, there would still be speculation and gossip if you were to be seen coupling before the marriage.

Jaces breath fanned over your face as he looked at you, his stare almost intimidating as he eyes refused to leave yours

You knew that he was right. No one would come in here, you were the only people other than a few servants who were actually awake at this time. The library had already been closed down, you were the only two in there... so no one would even know if anything were to happen.

This was often the effect that Jace would have on you. One look at that face and all your judgement would be clouded. You couldn't help it when it comes to him.

Looking at him in those moments you could feel all you worries slip away, you face slowly leaning up towards his, trying to close the gap of tensions between you, craving the sweet release of his lips against yours.

You kissed him, sweetly at first, with love and passion; he soon turned that delicate kiss into soemthing aggressive, lustful. A kiss that left you moaning into his mouth as his toungue explored you. You allowed yourself to submit to him so easily. The kiss was erotic, leaving your legs feeling like jelly.

You ignored the wooden shelves poking into your back as you chased his lips, not wanting to let go of him for a second.

He could feel you fighting against his grip on your hands, but he never relented. He loved teasing you - he could see how badly you wanted to touch him, but he didn't want to give up just yet. He wanted to see you beg for it.

"I thought you didn't want to get caught" he mocked you, stopping the kiss for a moment to smirk at you.

#jacaerys valaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys strong #jacaerys targaryen #jace targaryen #jace velaryon #hotd #house of the dragon

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improbable-outset · 1 year ago

Text

📂 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

↳ 📂 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @m4dyy @going-through-shit @miguels-aranita @roserfz27

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: SMUT, PIV sex, unprotected sex, Roommate AU, oral sex (m receiving), brief fingering, accidental squirting. MINORS DNI!!🔞🔞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel has mixed feelings towards your new boyfriend. That was until you came back with very exciting devastating news

𝐀/𝐍: Was chatting to one of the Miguel cai bots. Tell me why the bot made him use a cattle prod on me 😭 electric play??

It was a short way to his bedroom. As soon as he stepped in with you in his arms, he closed the door behind him with his feet, before gently laying you on his bed.

There was no way he was going to do this on your bed, the same bed your ex fucked you on. He probably still left traces of his presence there, like his scent on your clothes, and Miguel wasn’t prepared to face that.

Right now, he was focused on you. He left a gap between your bodies for now as he climbed over to look down at you beneath him. He studied your face as you gazed back at him. A small smile formed on your lips as your eyes fell on his own lips and Miguel found himself smiling back.

It still felt surreal, having you below him like this and being granted your constant to take you right now. He dreamt of this moment for so long and he didn’t want to mess anything up. But that might be because of his perfectionism.

He felt your hand reach up to his face to pull him in and he obliged. The warmth of your breath ghosted over his skin before he pressed his lips on yours again, picking up from where he left off.

It was more comfortable for him to deepen the kiss here, with the firmness of the mattress keeping you in place rather than the couch. His tongue slipped past your lips and his fangs emerged, lightly scraped against you.

The built up saliva helped to soften the edge for you so it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. As he pulled away, a thin string of saliva trailed between his lips and yours.

“I don’t want to do anything if you’re not on some sort of birth control.” He said after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. There was still a rational side of him that was urging him to tell you the pivotal reminder. He had to know, even if he did want to stuff you. But an unplanned pregnancy could potentially derail the bond you’ve already built.

“Well, I’m still on the pills.” You replied. Of course, you were still sexually active with your ex before you broke up, which only happened a few hours ago.

He felt a wave of relief after hearing your answer, giving him a sense of clarity that he can still come inside you.

Your hands reached for his pants. Despite hovering over you, you still fumbling with the flier before feebly tugging on the edge of the fabric. It took him extra willpower for him to get a hold of your wrist and move your hand away, pinning them to the mattress.

“I know you’re eager right now, but we have to take it slow or I won’t last.” His composure staggered with his voice straining as he spoke. Your face dropped in disappointment.

“It’s your fault. You’ve left me second guessing about this for so long. Let me do this Miguel, please,” the eagerness from you took him by surprise.

If he knew you wanted this just as badly as he did, he would’ve taken you a long time ago. Your pleas only made his cock twitch more, desperate to be free from the bondage of his clothes.

He couldn’t bring himself to argue back, his dick will hate him for it, instead he laid back on the bed so you could easily access his crotch.

After finally removing his pants, his dick sprung free, hard and heavy. Shock was written all over your face with your mouth slightly agape and your eyes gawking at his impressive length. By the look of your face, you’ve probably never seen anything comparable to his size. The pride in his chest swelled in his chest exponentially. The little blood vessels were bulging from where the base was and his precum was already leaking from the tip.

But his confidence quickly disappeared when he felt your hand clamp around his length, swiping your thumb over the tip where the precum was leaking from. He threw his head back and groaned from your touch.

You lowered yourself and he felt your tongue lapping at the tip before you took his length in your mouth. He watched through his squinted eyes as you took his dick, disappearing inch by inch into your pretty mouth.

It was obvious that you had your fair share of experience, the way you moved your tongue around his dick. You knew what you were doing to him and how to get him riled up.

His hands went to grip your hair, grabbing a fistful of it as you kept sucking. Watching your cheeks hollow and your eyes firing with lust up at him was dizzying. He couldn’t help the moans that slipped from his mouth from the sudden peak of pleasure. However, he didn’t expect you to pull away so suddenly. Just when he was close to reaching his peak.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want you to come just yet…” you uttered but Miguel could sense the teasing in your tone. He didn’t argue back though.

Instead he removed the remaining clothes he was wearing before his hands reached your zipper. You still had on the dress you were supposed to wear with your date.

You always looked breathtaking whenever you dressed up and put in a little extra effort in your appearance. But now he felt a little bit of hope that maybe he could see you put that effort when being with him now.

The dress quickly slipped off of you and Miguel disregarded it elsewhere with the rest of his clothes. He immediately caught the sight of your panties and how damp they were already. You were wet. For him. He felt his cock twitch again from the sight.

The fabric candy glistened from your own sweet juice as he took them off. His hands reached for your folds, feeling the wetness between his fingers while drawing lazy circles around your clitirous.

You gasped from his touch as he continued to work with his fingers. You were so responsive to his touches, it was driving him insane. It was all for him and him only.

But his dick was getting too desperate to feel you now. He pulled his hands away from your fold and repositioned himself with his cock lining up against your heated cunt. The tip brushed against the skin before nuzzling over your opening.

A wave of relief and pleasure washed over him as he pushed the head in, finally feeling your walls open up for his cock. He halted once he was fully inside of you.

He took this moment to fully analyse your body language. He noticed how you were gripping the sheets below you from how much he was stretching you to accommodate his size. You felt so good around his dick, caressing every surface area of the sensitive skin.

Your breathing pattern became shallow from how much you were overwhelmed by him taking you like this. He saw you look up at him and let out a shaking breath of approval, or it could be anticipation, he couldn’t tell.

“Are you okay?” He asked. He needed to know how things were in your end. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you or cause you any discomfort, even if you did have experience with this.

“I’m alright, just trying to adjust right now.” You replied.

“Let me know when you’re ready.”

After you gave him the signal of approval, he dragged himself out, feeling the suction of your walls from the withdrawal, before carefully rolling his hips back into you. The friction you had around his cock would be the death of him. But he would die happy if this was the way he would go.

He continued rolling his hips in a steady rhythm, feeling your nails dig into his back — just as he had always imagined. He sunk himself into you, nuzzling himself into your neck and feeling your pulse against his lips.

He quickened his pace now, having familiarised the feeling of your walls clenching him desperately and your legs clamped around his waist in response.

Your moans were more needy and frantic now than what he overheard from those nights with your ex. Perhaps a sign that he was doing a better job than he had. Your chest pressed against his as you arched you back up and threw your head against the pillow.

Sliding one hand down between your bodies, he reached for your sensitive bud. Once he found it, he circled his thumb around the area before pinching it slightly, making you moan louder.

He felt a rhythmic contraction from your walls as you cried out. You unraveled before him and immediately, he pulled himself away to be met with your stunned gaze and shivering body. Your eyes widened as you tried to figure out what just happened.

“Did I just…” your voice was hoarse and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish off your sentence. Miguel was still inside of you as he soaked in the moment.

“You just came.”

“I…did?”

“Have you never done that before?” You shook your head mutely in response.

Then realisation hit him. You had been sexually active with your ex for months and he hadn’t made you come once during your entire relationship.

Now, this was your first time doing it with Miguel and in just under a few minutes of him ramming inside you, he already got you to reach your peak. To say that this was an ego boost for Miguel would be a heavy understatement.

Miguel felt his control slip from him and he continued thrusting, but this time his pace was sporadic and harsh, sinking you further into the sheets. You cried out in response, digging your nails deeper into his back and gripping hard.

“Miguel…Miguel-” your sweet, eager voice filled his ear. For him. Only him.

His pace was driven by his high ego and hunger, now knowing that he was able to achieve something that your ex could never. His rapid movements made his hair fall and stick to the film of sweat that formed on his forehead. The room was filled with your desperate moans and the wet slaps of his hips snapping into you.

After a few more thrusts, his hips flushed against your cunt as he finally reached his climax. A low groan drew out from his lips. His cum spewed out inside of you, almost scorching and dislodging your silky walls. His load reached every crevice, making sure he stained you. The sheer force made you tear up.

Even after he withdrew himself from you, there were still streaks of his cum that leaked from your hole. Both your laboured breaths filled his ears as he felt his erotic high slowly simmered down.

He felt your legs around his waist loosen before going limp on the bed. He lifted himself off of you, feeling the sweat stick to his body as he admired his handiwork.

You were still drenched in the afterglow and your legs on either side of his body were shaking now. Your hair was a mess from rubbing against the mattress from the friction of his thrusts, but it still framed your face beautifully. He couldn’t help himself from reaching over and caressing your cheek, admiring you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Tired,” you looked up at him, your gaze yielding with lust.

Miguel rolled over beside you, laying on his side to face you. His deflated dick settled back between his legs.

You rolled to your side to face him too, getting close enough to rest your hands on his chest and his arms instantly wrapped around your waist. Even after everything, he still couldn’t get his hands off of you. The warmth of your touch was a tangible reminder of the bond you both shared.

The air still smelt of sweat and sex as he drew you in closer. His mind wandered about the future ahead and how life between the two of you would unfold with the newfound revelation.

The thought stirred both nervousness and anticipation, not knowing how things would go. But despite that, there was still peace that overshadowed it all because he knew that his feelings for you ran deep.

“Do you wanna shower together?” He whispered.

“I think I’d like that.”

Icl, I’m kinda having mixed feelings for my Miguel fics now…I’m not too proud with how this one specifically turned out…

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman atsv #miguel o’hara atsv #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader smut #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o'hara imagine #♦︎— spicy #★— ayrus writes

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wosoamazing · 11 months ago

Text

Against All Odds

Summary: You find yourself with a career ending injury, but Beth and Viv, your guardians and Leah are there for you. Based on this request.

Warnings: Death (mentions of fact Rs parents are dead), allusions to cancer, very bad knee injury, hospitals, paramedics, passing out, one section contains talks of Leah’s endometriosis, a bit sad -> Let me know if there is anything else.

A/N: I really liked this when I first wrote it, but I don't know anymore, maybe just because I hate editing so I was projecting my feelings about editing onto my fic. But anyway I hope you like it.

You were part of the AWFC and the Lionesses, however football wasn’t the only sport you played in at a professional level, you were also a Track and Field athlete, you were a youth world champion, but not many people knew, the Soccer seemed to outshine the Athletics, so no one found out. It was getting close to the stage of having a discussion with the British Olympic Association about whether you were going to do both Football and Athletics at the olympics or whether you could only do one, and if you could only do one whether you got to make the choice or if they did. But that conversation was no longer needed. Team GB wasn’t going to be at the Olympics for Women’s Football so you only had one choice, and that was Athletics, however there wasn't really the question of whether you would qualify or not. It was a certainty now that you were going to the Olympics, considering the fact you were running sub 10.6 for 100 metres. You actually qualified for the 2020 Olympics but you were only 13, so it was decided you weren't going, even though you were faster than some of the athletes you were just too young.

You were one stride away from the finish line, you had done it, shown that even despite your age you deserved to be at the olympics, that last stride would cause you to have run sub 10.7 at the qualifiers, which was a good time, since you hadn’t trained in 6 months, due to the World Cup and England Olympic qualifiers. However that last stride went wrong, you still made it across the finish line, but something went badly wrong, a shooting tearing splitting pain went through your knee as your body collapsed onto the ground, tears were streaming out of your eyes, your surrounds were a haze, heaps and heaps of bright yellow people surround you, they were paramedics you think, they were asking you questions, but it hurt too much to process anything. Your brain was also preoccupied with the fact that you would most likely not be going to the Olympics this year, or maybe even never. You weren't dumb, you couldn't actually process what the paramedics were saying, nor had you seen your knee, but there was no way this was a simple injury, your knee felt like it had exploded, a bomb had gone off, this was a big injury, if the pain causing you to be on the verge of passing out wasn't enough to tell you this, the immediate arrival of like 10 paramedics was definitely enough to tell you something really bad had happened. Your world was literally crumbling around you, you needed football and track, you didn’t want to face the fact that you might never get to be a pro again. You thought you heard someone say something about moving you onto a stretcher and to the ambulance before you passed out.

_____

“Viv, has she sent you a message? She isn’t replying to any of mine, she should be here by now.”

“Maybe it's just run over time and so she is still racing.” Viv replied, trying to comfort Beth.

Beth and Viv were two of the three teammates who knew about your athletics. You couldn't really keep it from them, considering you did live with them, the trophies, the photos, the ‘shrines’ you had. Leah also knew, as you went to the same school and due to the schools sport buddy system she was your sport buddy, you messaged her almost daily since you were 10 and looked up to her so much, she was an inspiration to you. However, Leah never realised how much you actually did idolise her until she saw said ‘shrines’ when she came into your room the day you were setting it up, to give you a present. She looked around the room, above your desk she saw your Mum’s last olympic Jersey framed, with photos of you and her at the track surrounding it in a heart shape. There was also a single photo in the middle of the heart of you and her, you were holding a massive trophy and a huge grin was plastered on your face, but she couldn't help but notice how weak your Mum looked she was in a wheelchair, then it clicked that was the last time your Mum saw you run. You had just won your first junior athletics championships, in that photo, it was a week before your Mum died. Leah knew that because you told her one day, when she asked you which sport you would choose, you said you would forever do both. She then saw the photo from your Dad’s military honour funeral, along with his cap hung next to it, above your dresser which was placed just next to your desk, another heart surrounded it, but this time it was photos of him and his platoon wearing their Y/L/N bibs watching your races at the championships while they were deployed, a photo of him in rehab, kicking a ball to you after he lost his leg and was learning how to use to prosthetic one so he could go back to duty, the photo of your Dad’s platoon surprising you at on of your competitions just after you Dad had died on duty was also there. Between the two hearts was a family of the three of you, you were only small, it hurt her to think that was most likely one of the last family photos you had, you were just so young. She then turned to see what the third ‘shrine’ you were in the middle of making was. She saw you placing framed letters, certificates, medals, and photos in a heart shape around yet another item and photo of someone who helped you massively and inspired you, expect this time she felt her heart grow warm, it was her england debut shirt, she had signed and gifted to you, along with a photo of you mid jump into her arms, after the 2020 Euros Final, celebrating her win with her. You saw your so called shrines your three lifes, your Athletics life which was inspired by your Mum, your everyday life which you attributed to your Dad, and your Football life which was inspired by Leah.

There was also another reason Beth and Viv knew about the athletics and that was because you had no other family, and someone had to sign permission slips, and when you moved in with Beth and Viv and they become your legal guardians according to the state, meaning that they were the ones now required to sign permission slips, so they knew everything.

—

“Viv, I’m going to go call her,” “Okay,” Viv said as she saw Leah walking towards her.

“How did she go?” Leah asked Viv, “We don’t know she hasn't replied to us.” Viv said as Beth started walking back over.

“She wont answer,” “Shit” the next three minutes Beth and Viv continuously called you.

“Beth we need to go now,” “What why,” “She got hurt badly, she is in surgery currently,” “Why didn’t they call us, to get consent for surgery. Shit, it's bad, let's go.”

They rushed off from training, and drove as fast as possible to the hospital. Leah stayed to inform Jonas and finish training before she quickly found herself, driving to the hospital, knee bouncing, hoping you were semi okay.

_____

When you woke up from surgery Beth and Viv were either side of you, holding your hands in theirs. A doctor walked in shortly after you woke up, to update you on your condition.

“Split Patella. Torn MCL and meniscus, partially torn LCL. Patella ligament was torn slightly in half vertically due to the separation of the Patella. Pins in the patella, sutures in the LCL and Patella ligament, meniscus was cleaned and sutured. In the end we went with a graft to fix the MCL in hopes to have a better recovery. No one actually can figure out how it happened, but it’s lucky your didn't tear your ACL or PCL.”

“Yeah but everything else is torn or split, would prefer just an ACL”

“Sorry about that, she comes with a bit of an attitude,” Beth said, as Viv glared at you, you just glared back, you were right after all, he was making it seem like nothing, when literally everything was stuffed.

He just dismissed it and continued “You’ll be lucky to walk normally again, let alone run or play football again. And even if you do somehow ever get back to running or playing football it will never be anywhere near the professional level.”

“I want a new doctor please,” You said to him blankly

“Hey, that's not very nice” “Yeah well I’ve seen what happens when doctors don’t have hope. I don’t want this halfwit in charge of my recovery, if it was up to him he would probably just put me in a wheelchair and be done with it. People come back from injuries that seem impossible to come back from. People lose limbs and still go back to war, it’s not impossible, as long as you’re not lazy. Just someone get me a new doctor. And you can go, I can’t believe you even got to operate on me.” He scoffed and walked out. You were fuming, your breath increased, your face turned into game mode and your nostrils started to flare, Beth and Viv knew that had to do something, so they tried to comfort you.

“Hey it's okay” Beth said as she rubbed her thumb on the back of the hand she was holding. You turned to her and glared at her before yelling at her. “No its fucking not, this isn’t okay, nothing about this is okay or fair or fine. Just leave, I want to be alone.” They both slightly jumped before quickly getting up and leaving. You felt your response was a bit harsh, but it was nothing compared to how you were actually feeling in this moment.

After 5 minutes the door slid open and a body slinked into the room, and sat on a chair near the end of your bed. It was Leah. She just smiled at you before she looked down at her phone. You felt a small tear roll down your cheek, the first one since your surgery, you quickly wiped it away and sniffled, however that caught the attention of Leah, and soon your single tear turned into more tears. She didn’t say anything, you didn't know if that was because she didn't know what to say, or if it was because she knew nothing she said would help. She did however get up out of her seat and walk towards your bed. You tried to shuffle over but your leg was holding you in place, you looked at her longingly. She looked at your knee and back to you, checking if thats what was the problem, you nodded. So she ever so carefully shifted your leg as you moved and then climbed onto the bed. You immediately moved closer to her, so that you were almost on top of her, and just melted into her comfort, as she held you tight.

After a while Beth and Viv walked in. “I’m sorry” you mumbled, feeling bad for pushing them away.

“It’s okay, you’re in a lot of pain both physically and emotionally, but we want you to know we are going to be here for you every step of the way. Okay.” you nodded, Viv sat down in the chair and beth sat down in her lap.

_____

When the fourth new doctor of the day entered the room, you jumped the gun, speaking before he could speak. “If you’re going to tell me I’m never going to play again or if you are a phycologist or some shit you can go, I don't want to hear it. Untill this hospital can find me someone who isnt a fucking sissy I won’t talk to any of you, and if they cant I’ll go somewhere else, another country if I have to.”

He sat down on the ‘doctor’ stool before wheeling himself on the chair closer to your bed, he leant forward slightly, and looked you directly in the eyes before he started speaking. “Well, I’m here to tell you that my team and I can get you back to playing pro. I’m not going to lie, its not going to be easy, its going to be fucking hard, harder than anything that has ever happened to you, everything combined. But we have done some research on you and had some conversations to people and we believe you can do this, we believe you are the right type of person, that you have the right support system and most of all have the determination, to not only now prove that dumb doctor wrong, but to show the universe that you won't break, nothing they throw at you, will cause you to break. So what do you say?”

You nodded slowly, looking at him before looking at Beth and Viv, almost seeking permission or maybe just reassurance, they both smiled and nodded at you, Leah squeezed your upper arm with the hand she had wrapped around your shoulders. You turn back to the doctor.

“I think like you,” “so is that a yes” “yes”

_____

He wasnt wrong, this was fucking hard, you were in agony, your face was scrunched up as tears streamed down from the first minute of rehab. You were told that you could stop if you needed to, but you weren't going to, you wanted to keep going, you needed to keep going, you needed to get back to playing.

Beth had been watching your first intensive rehab session from the window along with Viv and Leah. 10 minutes into the session she couldn't bear to watch, she walked away from the window before she broke down, she couldn't bear to see you in such agony. She was second guessing her choices, maybe you were pushing yourself too far, maybe they shouldn’t have signed the consent forms, after all you were only 15. Viv and Leah followed her, Viv wrapped her arms around her and tried to comfort her.

“Maybe we take away the consent forms, she shouldn't be doing this.” Beth said, as she started to calm down slightly.

“No you fucking wont. She needs this, you may not entirely understand but she does, this is her absolute world. You don't get it.” Leah snapped back at her.

“Oh. So I don't understand what it's like to have a serious injury that takes you away from the thing you like doing, and I don't understand what it's like to lose a parent.”

“That's not what I mean Beth, and you know that.”

“Oh so what do you mean then.” Beth replied snarkily.

“You don’t understand the uncertainty of whether you will get to play or not, you knew you were going to come back, she doesn’t, she won't ever know until she gets there. You don't get what it means to know you are going to miss out on something that is 100% a given, well something that was 100% a given. She said to me when she was 10, that she was going to win an olympic record for her Mum, and that is something that was almost guaranteed to happen this year, she was going to become the youngest person to hold an 100 metre olympic record for her Mum and now she might never win an olympic record let alone go to an olympics. I was going to captain my country in a world cup that we had a very good chance at winning and that was taken away from me, that certainty, the thing that shows who we are and what we have strove for just gets taken away from us. And yes you did miss out on the world cup too beth, but this is different. Your injury meant something different with your Mum too. Your injury gave you time with your Mum. Her injury is taking her away from her Mum.”

Beth just nodded at Leah, not knowing what to reply, Leah was right, but it didn't make seeing you like that any better. Leah walked away and opened the door, joining you in rehab, she sat on the side of your good leg, speaking encouraging words to you the whole. Which admittedly did help.

_____

Beth and Viv came to some of your rehab sessions, but they struggled watching, they couldn't deal with they were the reason you were in pain, it's what you wanted to do, but if they didn't sign the consent forms you wouldn't be in this much pain, but they knew deep down this is what was best.

Leah was there for you every rehab session she could be, she was in a different position, she understood how Beth and Viv felt and would feel the same if she was in that position, but she wasn’t. She felt differently about this because she was in that position and so she was determined to be your constant through this. She was so insistent on that, that when she had an endo flare-up really bad you had to instruct her to stay home, she tried using the excuse that because you were in pain and still doing rehab she should too, you told her that was dumb, and you had to be in pain to get better, she needed to rest to get better. The main reason was that the past few days you had started working on walking without assistance, and if you passed the tests today you would be able to, well more like strongly encouraged too, walk without assistance in small intervals, it would only be max 30 mins a day in total currently but it was something. But you didn't want Leah to know this. You wanted to surprise everyone.

You did exactly that in their next training session.

“Are you sure about this?” Viv asked you concerned

“Yes, are they all in there?” you replied.

“Yeah Jonas said we had a meeting to be there by 8:10, we messaged and said sorry we will be 5 minutes late.” Beth replied and you nodded

You crutched your way into the centre and gave Viv your crutches just as you neared the dining room entrance, Beth went ahead of you as you walked, albeit very slowly, behind her into the dining room. All heads turned to you, no one expected you to be there, you hadn’t had a day off from rehab since you started, and as you were doing external rehab you hadn’t seen much of the girls.

“Oh we thought you were Jonas, do you know where he is?” Kim asked.

“Yeah he is just behind u-” “Wait Viv, why are you holding crutches that are definitely not your size” Steph asked.

“Holy fuck kid, you’re walking,” Katie said when she finally realised that you were walking, once everyone realised that you got your crutches back from Viv, standing without your crutches was painful, everyone came up and hugged you and congratulated you, except for one person, the one person that you really wanted to surprise. You continued looking around the room thinking you just missed her or something but your search was interrupted by a hand on your shoulder, “She isn't in here kid, she is with the medics. I can take you to visit her if you want.” Lia whispered in your ear, you nodded your head.

“Beth, Viv, I’m just going to take Y/N/N to see Leah,” Lia told them, they nodded their heads.

“Leah, I have someone who would like to see you,” Leah chimed through the door,

“What Lia, you can't say that about yourself,” “No, it's not me who would like to see you, it’s someone else” and with that Lia opened the door for you and you walked into the room cautiously, Lia followed behind you holding your crutches.

“OMG Y/N/N you're walking” you just grinned and nodded at her, she went to reach out to you for a hug but before she could she winced in pain and retracted into a ball.

“Le, I think you need to go home, I told you, you shouldn’t have come today,” Lia said as she walked to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Can Y/N come?” Leah asked timidly, “I’ll check with Beth and Viv first but yes.” Both you and Leah perked up at that

–

You entered the house a while after Lia and Leah, considering you had to get up the stairs which wasn’t the easiest task to do with crutches, but you managed it. You walked into the living room, and saw a photo, a photo you had hanging on your wall, it was bigger on this wall though, and sat next to what you could only assume was Leah’s Euro Final Jersey framed and her medal. You thought that it was sweet she had hung that photo of you up. You decided to sit on the couch and wait for Lia or Leah to come back out and talk to you, however you quickly fell asleep. You had basically been sleeping, eating or rehabbing since your injury so it wasnt out of the ordinary. Lia came out to check on you but found you asleep, so she decided to leave you asleep.

_____

You were lying in your bed, when Beth and Viv returned from their game, you were now getting a day off rehab every week, to slightly allow your body to rest. You had begged your rehab team to let you go to the game, but they said no, but they did mention maybe next week, so you were determined for that to happen. But currently you were in your bed tearing up at the thought of playing football, you were so determined to just get back you had forgotten about why you wanted to get back to it so much, the family feeling, the feeling once you scored a goal, the feeling of winning with some of the closest people in your life, the feeling of being free, having nothing else on your mind other than the game. You were in sobs by the time Beth and Viv had opened your door.

“Oh Baby, what’s wrong?” Beth asked as she went to sit beside you on the bed.

“I-I’m s-so-sorry,” you cried out, Beth pulled you into her side, wrapping her arms around you, you buried your head in her chest. Viv walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to you, before she started to rub your back.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, it's okay to cry, what you’re going through isn’t something small, and isn’t something easy.” Beth reassured you.

“No. I’m sorry for yelling at you the first day in the hospital, and for being mean to you both when you’re just trying to help me, and that you have to look after me.”

“It’s okay, we’re here for you Kleintje, this injury hasn’t been easy and won’t be, so if you need to get mad at us sometimes that is okay. And we will always look after you, we love you, we wouldn’t want to do anything else than help you when you’re sick or injured.” Viv replied.

“But you shouldn’t have to look after me, it's not your fault I dont have parents.” Beth was surprised it took this long for the emotions of your parents not being able to look after you to hit, she felt it while she was recovering from her ACL and she didn’t have her Mum. The date also hadn’t slipped her mind for the entire day. She felt as though this conversation, this set of emotions, would be something you would prefer to have with just Beth, someone who understood in what you felt, she was older so it was easier on her in some way, but it doesn't make it hurt any less, it just meant she understood what was happening to her Mum where you didn’t. She looked up to Viv, and gave her a soft, sad, warm smile. Viv picked up on what Beth was silently communicating. Beth had a small tear roll down her face before she looked up at the roof, Viv wiped the tear away and kissed her quickly before she got up and headed to the door.

“I’m just going to have a shower, let me know if you need anything.” Viv said, she really didn;t want to leave you two but knew she needed to.

“Thank you,” you mumbled before she shut the door, she knew that it wasn't just for helping you, but for leaving, even though it went against everything in her being.

“I-I’m sorry,” “It’s okay Vivy understands. Can you sit up for me quickly?” You did as Beth said, she sat more upright resting her back against the pillows on the headboard, before pulling you onto her lap, you sat parallel to the headboard leaning your side into her, resting your head against her shoulder. You pulled your good leg into a ball, trying to feel safe. Beth wrapped her arms around you tightly, and started slightly rocking side to side. She kissed your forehead before she started talking again.

“Y/N, it's okay to be upset, every date is just as important as the other. Today means something, every date means something. Today marks the start, and that’s just as important as the end.”

“It’s hard Beth.”

“I know it is, but you’ve got this, I’m here with you, I’m here for you, I understand, you never have to explain anything to me, I get it, but just know that she loves you, and she would be incredibly proud of you.” You felt a drop of water hit your shoulder, Beth was crying now too.

“I-I love y-you, th-thank you.” She nodded, you knew she wouldn’t be able to talk, you were struggling to talk, your tears choking back your words. She unwrapped the arm that was in front of you and you saw her moving her hand towards yours, you quickly grabbed it and held onto it tightly. You sat there soaking up Beth’s comfort, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

_____

Commonwealth Games 2026

“We’re here trackside with Y/F/N Y/L/N who at just 17 years old has broken 4 records today, 3 officially and one unofficially. She has just finished her first competitive 100m back since her career ending injury, with an absolutely insane time of 10.45. Giving her a second gold medal of the day.”

“An absolute masterclass out there Y/N/N, how do you feel?”

“Honestly amazing. On a high. I-I can’t believe it. Let alone find the words to express it” you said puffing.

“How’s the knee feeling? Recovery mustn’t have been easy.”

“Yeah no, the knee is feeling great, recovery was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I had some fantastic people surrounding me and helping me and guiding me through it all. And I just wanted to give a massive thank you to Tim and his team. Without their belief, fantastic skill set and unbelievable knowledge I probably wouldn't even be here competing today, let alone standing here with a gold medal. But also to all my teammates, and to my parents who made me who I am, I love you both.”

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader #arsenal women #beth mead x reader #vivianne miedema x reader

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